Music thudded through the club like the opening salvos of a war, the ground vibrating, the air shaking with every pulse of bass. Young men and women shifted and swayed, packed together in the flickering, strobe-lit dimness, breathless and drunk on the beat. Half of Canterlot High's students had to be there, cramming the club to capacity.

She danced without a partner, swinging her toned body around with manic exuberance, perspiration glistening on her skin. Heavy eyeshadow circled her large green eyes, mascara darkening and lengthening the lashes. Her blonde hair was shaved on either side of her head, the centre standing up in a fluffy, messy mohawk with dyed green tips; a pair of large, expensive headphones covered her ears, the headband flattening a channel through the broad stripe of hair. A crumpled black top bared her arms and shoulders, sleeveless, deeply cut to show off her freckled cleavage, over a tight purple miniskirt and ripped fishnets. Loosely fastened, spiked cuffs slid up and down her forearms as she swayed her hands above her head, matching the long, many-strapped boots she wore to the knee. Glowsticks were shoved into her hair, her cleavage and through the silver loops decorating her accessories; studs gleamed in the side of her nose and below her lower lip.

From the corner of her eye, she saw one girl tug on another's arm and point at her, her expression incredulous. Even though the words were drowned out by the tide of music, it wasn't a surprise to see her mouth to the other, as many people had over the last couple of months, 'Is that Applejack?!’

It had all started with a tape.

Vinyl Scratch had come up to her one day, in the hallways at college, and offered it to her - without saying a word, as was customary for Vinyl. Applejack had taken it, as much to be polite as anything, and thanked the other girl. That was when Vinyl had tapped a hand-written label on it, which read 'listen all the way through', and given her a stern look over her ever-present purple glasses.

Applejack had promised.

Even so, it had taken her a few days to get around to listening to it. She was a country gal herself - 'Always have been, always will be' - and while Vinyl knew her way around a boombox, it wasn't usually Applejack's kind of jam. Still, seeing the tape lying on her dresser had pricked her conscience, and with a sigh, she'd slotted it into her tape deck and hit play.

It was exactly the kind of thing she'd expected from Vinyl; heavy on the electronic beats and synthesised sound, layer upon layer of musical patterns growing in complexity, then collapsing and resetting before developing new themes once more. It was probably impressive, if you looked at it the right way, but it really wasn't the kind of music she was into. She'd almost turned it straight back off again, but she'd promised to listen through, and that was that. Instead, with another sigh, Applejack had let it play, and got on with tidying up her room.

The funny thing was, after a while, she found herself nodding along with it, tapping out the beat with her fingers. It sure did seem to go on for a long time, but the more she listened, the more it grew on her. There was this weird familiarity about it, like there was a song she knew, sampled and remixed into the distorted electronic tones. When it did finally finish, she rewound the tape, and played it again.

Vinyl hadn't been smug about it when she'd confessed, with some reluctance, that maybe there was something to this here 'electronic music' that wasn't total hogwash. Instead, the DJ had just grinned at her, and pressed another tape into her hands.

Where the last one had had just a single, long song on it, this one had a good dozen new tracks, and to her initial bewilderment, then increasing delight, Applejack had found each one was catchier than the last. The country music that her family played around the house seemed so dull in comparison, just a few simple notes, picked out over and over. Applejack had fought the realisation, because that music was a part of her whole identity, but one day, she'd just had to give up and admit to herself she was all about the electronica, now.

The third tape had had lyrics. Not that the others hadn't had sampled vocal sections, but this voice was both familiar and unfamiliar, woven through the music - Vinyl's voice, Applejack was pretty sure, even though she couldn't remember getting the gal to talk out loud. She had a sweet voice; shame she used it so rarely. As if to make up for that, Applejack listened to the music obsessively, humming the tune when she was out and about, and letting it play her to sleep at night. There was still something familiar about it all, but it had been restructured so heavily, she couldn't put a finger on it. "...soon you'll all be singing along," she hummed to herself, without quite knowing why.

It was around then that she started asking Vinyl for recommendations for clothes. She'd only intended to try on an outfit, two at most, but once she wore her first set of leather knee boots, it was like something had broken loose inside her. Within days, she'd junked most of her wardrobe, and put away her collection of hats, going instead for ripped jeans and brightly coloured tube tops.

Now that, admittedly, had got some attention. Her friends could hardly believe it. Still, a few visits to her house to see her new collection of clothes, her music pumping away in the background, and they started to see the stylish side of it. Heck, several of them had tried a bit of a punk fix-up to their clothes themselves!

Vinyl must have been shy about other folk hearing her voice; she'd checked in with Applejack not long after that, and when Applejack had shown her the lousy little tapedeck she listened to, Vinyl had given her a pair of headphones and a portable MP3 player that were just top quality to listen to instead. Applejack had felt a bit awkward about accepting the gifts, but she'd tried them out at Vinyl's urging, and the sound was so much clearer! Pretty soon, Applejack wore her headphones just as much as Vinyl did. Maybe it was her generosity, or maybe it was listening to her music so much, but Applejack found herself thinking of the friendly DJ more and more.

Admittedly, though, it was a bit embarrassing the first time it happened while she was playing with herself. Applejack had a tendency to think of a few guys from the college when she got a bit frisky, even if they'd never get to find out, and lately it had been Thunderlane who - though a total jerk - tended to turn up in her fantasies of being rutted good and hard. Maybe he'd annoyed her more than usual lately, because no matter what she did, she just felt irritable when picturing him pawing at her. Huffing in exasperation, she'd done her best to relax, and just touched herself for a while without picturing anyone at all. That was better. She was getting pleasantly horny again when, without warning, an image of Vinyl had flashed into her head.

She'd given up and gotten dressed. It had happened more and more since then, though, and though she always pushed the image aside, she wasn't particularly surprised by it anymore. Not that it meant anything. She was into boys, always had been, always would be.

She did like spending time with Vinyl, though. It was restful, being with someone that wasn't yammering all the time, the two of them listening to their headphones and nodding along, side by side. She'd gotten into club dancing, wherever Vinyl was playing a set. This club was one she hadn't been to before, but she hadn't really bothered to read the posters. Vinyl was going to be here, and that was all that mattered.

Oh, it felt good.

Every pulse of the bass thrummed through her, tingling, pulsing, making every tiny hair on her body stand on end. She was being hammered by it, driven, letting her body move the way it wanted to move on pure instinct. Vinyl's music pulsed into her ears from her headphones, in perfect counterpoint to the deeper, heavier thrum of the club speakers. She was being watched, stared at, and she knew she looked incredible. She wanted to touch herself, right here, right now, in front of all these people, wanting her, desiring her.

Her fingers crept under the edge of her skirt. She inhaled sharply with anticipation.

A hand touched her shoulder. Applejack twisted around, flushed with guilty excitement, and looked straight into Vinyl's opaque purple lenses. The DJ grinned, angling her head to let Applejack look into her crimson eyes over the top of her sunglasses.

Applejack couldn't help herself; she giggled, panting for breath, weirdly delighted by Vinyl's conspiratorial amusement. Her voice lost in the tumult, she shouted, "Guess you caught me, huh?"

Vinyl squeezed Applejack's shoulder, then reached up and took hold of her chin with her other hand. It all happened in drifting slow motion, but somehow Applejack couldn't quite understand what was happening, until the exact moment that the DJ's hot mouth covered hers.

Then sensation caught up with her again.

It was as though every part of Applejack's body lit up at once, a shuddering, overwhelming flush of pure, molten arousal, without compromise or hesitation. She kissed back, urgently, desperately, not even caring that everything she thought about herself was suddenly being proven wrong. She needed Vinyl, more than anyone in her whole life. She needed - yes! - she needed to touch and kiss her and stroke her smooth skin and soft breasts, she wanted to know what Vinyl's body tasted like, she wanted to know everything. The rush of infatuation was so powerful she almost fell, and she rocked loosely on her feet when the other girl pulled away.

Something wrapped around her neck. She looked down, and with an odd lack of surprise, saw the collar in Vinyl's hands, felt the cool metal of the buckle against her skin as it was done up. A catch clicked, and as she felt the first tug, she realised she was on a leash.

Applejack's eyes snapped closed, and she arched, gasping. She could feel her pussy spasming, soaking her thong, and dimly through her headphones, she heard the crowd catcalling. She was being watched, and wanted, and she was on Vinyl's leash. Oh, stars, she was gonna melt.

A stronger, sharper tug on the leash jerked her forward. Vinyl's grin was intimately sly, and her pierced nipples showed clearly through her thin, clinging white t-shirt. It felt so good to know Vinyl wanted her just as much as she wanted the DJ, and she followed the other girl in a daze, breathing fast and shallow, her knees quivering with every step. A door opened before them, then a narrow corridor, then another door, this one guarded by a suited, older man, his arms folded.

Vinyl's hand pushed down on the back of her neck, and without knowing or caring what was happening, Applejack sank to her hands and knees, her tiny skirt riding up with every movement of her legs to expose her broad, muscled ass, inadequately covered by her torn mesh tights. The bouncer nodded approvingly, and stepped aside. Vinyl walked forward, pushing the door open, and Applejack crawled after her.

There was a whole other dance floor inside. Smaller than the other, more confined, but within that space, it was equally packed. Men led women on leashes, women rode naked on the backs of crawling men. Bare breasts and exposed cunts were on display everywhere; corsets and latex and things Applejack didn't even know the names for, lit by the flashing, alternating colours of strobes and disco lights. Music pulsed into her ears, her headphones filling her with the thrum of the bass, and the silk of Vinyl's voice.

It was the single most erotic thing she'd ever seen in her life. Applejack shuddered in an echo of orgasm, and if she hadn't already been on all fours, she might have fallen. Vinyl's hand rested possessively on the back of her head, stroking the small hairs at the base of her mohawk, and the leash jerked again, squeezing her throat. Moaning loudly, hearing a dim, faint echo in her own ears, Applejack followed the tug, crawling onto a slightly raised, knee-high platform. It was one of several; some others were vacant, some occupied by - by bound slaves. Just like her.

The realisation made her bite her lip hard, her head arching back, her nipples almost painfully stiff. People were watching her. They were watching her. Vinyl wanted her. She wanted Vinyl, so, so badly. This was everything she wanted. Everything. Vinyl looped her leash around a hook at the front of the platform, and Applejack tensed upwards a little, just to feel the glorious feeling of pressure as her choke-chain squeezed her neck. Vinyl's hands slid over her upturned ass, and she whimpered again, gasping, "Do me, do me! Right here!"

The music filled the air; Vinyl couldn't possibly have heard. Nonetheless, Applejack jerked as she felt her skirt being flipped up, and Vinyl's neat, tapering fingers rip open the back of her tights. Men and women were approaching, their eyes hungry and unashamed of their interest, and it was all the farmgirl could do not to squirm around too much.

Cool, slick pressure pushed against her tender asshole. Lubricant trickled down the valley of her ass. A buzzing tingled against her skin.

"Oh, fuck," Applejack gasped, her arms going limp, eyelids fluttering as she sank down to rest her upper body against the platform. "Oh, no," she breathed with delirious desire, rocking back and forth to grind her nipples against the unyielding surface through her shirt, "Ah've never - never even imagined-"

Her words cut off as the pressure mounted, and the slim, buzzing shaft pushed slowly into her body. She couldn't speak, couldn't think, as it penetrated her, deeper and deeper, until she finally felt the flared base come to rest against her. She'd stopped breathing; now she shudderingly sucked in a gasp of air, fighting back the darkness that had narrowed her vision. She was surrounded by the crowd now, grinning, looking at her lustfully, touching each other, touching themselves. She could feel the heat of their gazes, burning her up, burning away every part of her that ever didn't want this.

"Fuck me, Vinyl! Ah'm yours!" she panted, raising her voice to a shout to try to be heard over the music pounding in her mind. "Fuck mah ass, mah pussy, anything! Anything you want!"

Vinyl stepped into view. This time it felt like Applejack's heart would stop beating. She was half-naked, those gorgeous smooth tits capped with silver barbells through her cobalt blue nipples, her headphones resting loosely around her neck, glasses slid down her nose so Applejack could meet her eyes, and yes, oh yes, a big, heavy strap-on webbed to her hips, already dripping with lubricant.

Vinyl's lips shaped the silent words, 'Want this, lover?'

Applejack reached out desperately for the other girl, her hips squirming uncontrollably as the vibrator buzzed away in her ass. "Please! PLEASE! Fuck me right here! Do it! DO ME!"

Vinyl grinned, and blew a kiss. Circled around her, out of sight.

Applejack lowered her head, whimpering, her pussy spasming, as the shaft stroked along her folds, and began to push firmly into her. Strobe lights played over her glisteningly damp skin, bass thudding through her very core as the thick dildo began thrusting back and forth. "Watch me! Watch me get - get f-fucked senseless!" she cried out.

Some songs you really just couldn't get out of your head.

Author's Note

I didn't intend to do two mind control via music pieces this week, but here we are. My usual daily writing quota is 500 words; I averaged over two thousand a day for this challenge. It was really satisfying to complete the last day and know I could relax a bit, but I did have a good time writing all the different scenarios I came up with.

I hope you've enjoyed the results as much as I did writing them! Bonus chapter tomorrow!

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