The Equestrian Scourge
~~Dear Diar~~
~~Hi, my name i~~
I… I don’t know what this is to be. I don’t see this as a diary, I think that sounds rather more childish than what I would like my memoirs to be perceived as. Although that’s doubtful seeing as my life would seem pretty disinteresting to the common stallion, especially in the patriarchal regime I live under, in all honestly my crude penmanship isn’t likely to tempt anypony to read the scribbles that I write.
I’m not sure who will read this, I’m not even sure why I’m writing this, all I know is that I fell I need to right this. What I do know, as I struggle to convey my emotions through my poor untrained expression, is that these papers will be personal to me and will, hopefully, contain everything that has come to pass since I began my residence in the Vino household and things that will happen in the future.
Where should I start?
My name is Soft Harmony, I am a ~~family member of the~~ Mare of the Vino household of the ESM. I live in ‘Morgan County’, a seemingly peaceful and sleepy county present within Southern Equestria, just north of a ‘living hell’ and eastwards of ‘Get Me the Hell Out of Here!’. Some writers may put emphasis on romanticism here, describing their attachment to the area, what they love about it, where a pony would be best off going if they wanted a quiet drink with friends or where the nearest brothel was to bed a mare for the night – not for me.
I am a Unicorn who was born and raised in the city of Baltimare. My life used to be so peaceful, so... free. Sometimes, all I would do was practice the piano and dream about what it would be like to make it big as an accomplished pianist, all the things I could do, all the things I could see! But, then things changed when my family moved to Morgan County.
My family – my biological family that include my mother and father – moved here out of my father’s lust for power and the want to access Morgan County’s success in both trade and economic stability while prospering in its wealth. Especially the wealth that is enjoyed by companies operating under the parent organisation of the ESM.
I’m not well-versed in every aspect of the systems in place that boost sales and revenue for those companies and I won’t pretend to. To be succinct, the ability to trade, buy and sell goods as an independent company in Morgan County is walled off from the masses and is heavily regulated by the ESM. To be even more succinct, if you’re run a business and are not in the ESM then you are seen as a nobody. But, I digress.
To be clear. I was not born in Morgan County. I have no attachment to this County other than ‘I live here’ and more importantly; I do not like this county. In my eyes, this county is an Equestrian scourge that is allowed to breed misogyny while the powers at be turn a blind eye.
I can see that I’m going off on a tangent, I’ve just got a lot of pent up frustrations and there are a few items that I should clarify. First of all, what is the ESM?
The initials ‘ESM’ stand for the ‘Environment for Submissive Mares’ and from what I am aware was founded thirty-six years ago by the ‘Cotton’ household. It is known that their initial wealth was heavily attributed to the sharp rise in demand during Morgan County’s first population boom. By selling their harvest to the town of Nokota Valley, at rather inflated prices, not only gained wealth and fortune, but influence and power.
I should also inform you about the Cotton’s ideals and beliefs as they aren’t necessarily tradition… During the “boom”, the head of the household – Crop Tender – was becoming heavily influenced by a Germane Philosopher who went by the written alias of ‘Parx’ and quickly falling in love with the philosopher’s vision of a ‘Stallion Utopia’.
This ‘Utopia’ was envisioned be the foundations for a society whereby all mares in Equestria would openly submit themselves to their Stallion Masters that would “rule” them. Crop Tender was clever, he realised quickly that these ideals would be wholly rejected by the more liberal Capital of Canterlot but was well aware that many inside Morgan County either shared or empathised with them.
Using the family business’ influence, Crop Tender was able to fund and promote the young organisation and successfully set up the framework for the ‘Environment for Submissive Mares’. Gaining the signatures of three other households; he formed the original EESM, at the age of Fourty-three. The Original Committee held the signatures of the Households; Cotton; Marble; Ono and Silver and was quick to place the Cotton household and Crop Tender as the chairman and honorary leader of the organisation.
The combined wealth of the ESM allowed the organisation to flourish, slowly buying up land and businesses that granted them a monopoly on most of Morgan County’s agriculture market – the largest market at the time. Now, you may be wondering how the ESM went from a coalition of wealth to an organisation that can take away the freedom from Mare’s? The answer is quite simple.
Considering that you have to own land to vote in Morgan County, I doubt you’ll be surprised when I tell you that an ESM-sympathiser was eventually voted into the position of Mayor of Nokota Valley. A close Ally of Crop Tender, no less.
It’s with this instrumental power that ESM was allowed to expand, slowly incorporating more and more of the Cotton’s views on the relationships between mares and stallions as well as the position of mares within a household. Furthermore, with the Mayor’s willingness to turn a blind eye to these depraved ideas, the ESM became emboldened and set out the fundamentals of what the social hierarchy of a household should be.
To maintain their place within the ESM each it is compulsory for each Household to follow and comply with the rules set out by the committee. The ‘Environment for Submissive Mares’ is an incredibly strict society and any Household that are found to have broken the rules face harsh consequences. The main rules are as followed:
The Fundamental Rules
·A Master is tasked with the ownership and unconditional submission of their Mare’s under the terms of the ESM contract.
·In the presence of a Master, a Mare may not speak unless they are spoken to.
·It is forbidden for Colts and Fillies to hold the titles of Master or Mare before the age of 18.
·A Master may only continue his bloodline through the appointment of a Breeder.
·A Master is permitted to take on an unlimited number of Mares, but only if their social security can be maintained, and that Mares are suitably provided for.
·A Master may only take one Mare as their Breeder. Illness or subsequent death of a Breeder will permit a Master to take another to further the bloodline.
·Mares are to carry out their Master’s tasks unconditionally.
·Mares are not permitted to hold places upon the ESM committee.
·A Master and Mare must consummate their contract within forty-eight hours.
·A failure to comply with ESM rules may result in severe consequences and may lead to subsequent fines and potential expulsion from the organisation.
The fundamentals of the ESM are simple, the rules are designed to give “Masters” instrumental power over the ‘submissive’ mares that they preside over. In a nutshell, it’s a society built by rich Stallions which make their own rules that ensure that we mares don’t step out of line.
To promote and encourage more households to join the ‘society’ it is encouraged that households ‘personalize’ the ‘environment’ to suit the tastes and needs of the household’s ‘master of the house’. However, while households can alter and change certain aspects of their ‘environment’ it is essential that all households devoutly follow rules of the ESM.
This consolidation aided in winning over many of the younger Households and even now, after thirty-six years since the ‘Environment’ was originally conceptualized, the ESM is still popular amongst the rich and wealthy. At my current age of seventeen, soon to be eighteen, twelve households continue to partake within this fraternity, with my former house - Alto - being the most recent.
And so, upon the night of my eighteenth birthday, I went to bed with a knot in my stomach, unnerved by the prospect that by that time the next day I would cease to be filly of the Alto household and become a Mare of the ESM’s Vino household and begin my new life with my Master[i/].
To be continued…
[CH1] - Changing Residences
Changing Residences
It was raining heavily on the evening I was presented to the Vino household. Rain is considered a bad omen in the best of times, but how much bad luck can one mare have, especially on the night that her rights were taken away? It seemed as though I was cursed, from the moment that I had awoken my stomach had felt like a pack of timberwolves were ripping me to shreds, this of course meant that I could barely eat a tiny carrot in one sitting.
I was truly sick to my stomach. However, that was only a part of my emotional torment, thoughts raced through my head - awful, awful thoughts that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst of enemies. To have your entire life stuffed into suitcases and dumped to the other side of the county to be some stallion’s concubine… A concubine to somepony of whom I didn’t know his name. I can barely describe the mental pain I was going through.
For some reason, the powers at be had decided to conceal the identity of said Master until our first meeting. Perhaps, if I had known who I was dealing with - good or bad - I may not have been so nervous. His concealed meant that I had hope, hope that he might be a decent stallion and a Master who would treat me like a pony should be treated. The situation looked to building up my hope only to have them shattered by some slob who wanted me for nothing more than my sex.
Although, I already knew the life that awaited me, it would be a life of servitude to the masters of the household, to be displayed as trophies when needed then moments later be hidden from society in order to be bred, beaten and used for their pleasure. Although, my family had only lived in Morgan County for a couple of weeks, I was daily force fed a diet of the rules and etiquette of the ESM, preparing me for the day where I would become the ‘mare’ for my young master. I can barely describe the mental pain I was going through.
You see, under the banner of the ESM, a mare’s worth is dependant upon two life-defining conditions; their ability to serve their role as a “Mare”, and the eligibility, as well as the legality, to have sex - both of which require Mare’s to be eighteen. On the flipside, a Master serves as the face of a household, the breadwinner who plays an active role within the community and gets to live his life as though he were a normal pony. To put it bluntly, in the ESM, the ceremony of placing a mare under the care of a Master is more of a right for stallions than a privilege.
Image of the flag used by the ESM organisation.
To have a Mare under your name is a status symbol, a right of passage for young colts and stallions taking their first steps into adulthood. It is looked down upon when an of-age stallion does not have a female in place to parade around as eye-candy at parties or obligatory bed-warmer for when it’s cold. Simply put, if you are eligible to take a Mare and do not possess one, you’re a nobody. In the ESM, females give you clout - usually in more ways than one.
And that was the impression I held over the colt I was to be paired with, from what I had read and experienced I knew that I would be lucky to be paired with a Master who wouldn’t immediately try to breed me. The terrifying part is that there is no way around it, the organizations rules clearly state that Mare’s are to submit regardless of what the Master wishes from them.
This scared me, I felt too young to become pregnant, in truth I felt too young to start participating in sexual activities, but I had no choice. I had nowhere else to go, I wasn’t naive about my options, there was too routes open for me - I could either be a Mare of an ESM family or be thrown out by my parents and forced into prostitution. So, there was only one thing I needed to do.
I took my time piecing myself together, using the time I had available to bathe myself in the soothing warm water that lapped at my fur, actively removing any dirt or blemish that mired my coat which had to be simply glowing when I met my family-to-be. You may wonder why I chose to put so much effort into how I looked for something I dreaded so much, the quick truth is that I’d be damned walking into such an elitist environment looking like a ruffian, it was a simple matter of pride.
Well, that and not wanting to risk the wrath of both my father as well as every other stallion in that room. It would be a disastrous start to try and get on the Pino’s good side.
Before our party left for the Vino household up in the hills of Morgan County, I did my best to look as clean and presentable as possible. I straightened my black mane that parted around my shined horn that protruded proudly from my head, brushed my matching tail to appear full and thick, combed my white coat so that it shone in the light and made sure that the piano keys on my flanks boldly announced themselves against the backdrop of my white coat..
After that all there was to do was to don my specially tailored black dress, still slightly warm from being recently cleaned and pressed to remove any and all wrinkles from the delicate fabric. I had to admit that it was beautiful which in turn made me look stunning when I used my magic to carefully put it on. With it on I moved to stand in front of my room’s mirror. The last time I did such a thing, I noted how the dress complimented my equally dark-toned mane and tail. I must have stood there for a minute or two when a knock at the door shook me out of my daydream.
It was my maid signifying that it was time to leave.
The road to the dreaded Pino manor was long, bumpy and cold. Dark clouds had rolled across the sky early that evening, blocking out what remained of the autumn sun which cooled the earth considerably before the rain began to torrent onto the soil that we rode upon. Thankfully, the carriage that I was sat in was waterproof, successfully protecting me from getting wet - one of the day’s only saving grace. We had probably been sat in the carriage for nearly twenty minutes before we encountered more hilly terrain, making progress slow and comfort nearly minimal.
I wasn’t alone, both my mother and father were making the trip with me, although it wasn’t due to them wanting to say goodbye with a kiss and a cuddle, it was more to make sure that I wouldn't intentionally mess things up. I’ll admit, when I had first been propositioned with the idea of becoming a Mare for the ESM I was a little more than vocal about my reservations.
We had probably been sat in the carriage for nearly twenty minutes before we encountered more hilly terrain, making progress slow and comfort nearly minimal.
“Sit up, Filly. Were you raised in a barn?” The gruff, weathered voice of my aging father demanded, ripping me out of my thoughts. It was from him that I inherited my black mane and tail, that was about it, our coat colours couldn’t have been further apart - his being a dark-grey while mine was a stunning white - the same rang true for our personalities.
It was from my mother that I inherited the majority of my looks, she was the one who gave me my unicorn genes, my white coat and smooth facial features too. I’ve always been surprised that I never inherited her beautiful pink mane and tail, perhaps that was nature’s way of making sure that I knew from whom I came from, keeping my father with me forevermore.
It appeared that whilst swimming in my dark, depressing thoughts I had begun to slouch, bending my spine and resting my weight upon my chest. Knowing my father well, I could tell that he too was nervous about the transaction’s success and was willing to skin me and where the skin to the meeting if it meant that the ESM were to accept his family and his business into the organization.
“Yes, Sir. No, Sir.” I said automatically, shifting my dress-restricted flanks I managed to straighten my back and correct my posture, not wanting to risk the wrath of my father.
“How am I supposed to present you to the Vino household with a hump in your back?” My father goaded ruthlessly, using his piercing blue eyes to scrutinize everything from my posture to the faintest wrinkles on my black dress. From his grumpy facial expression, it was clear that he was unimpressed with… something about me – I couldn’t keep track of everything with the thoughts I had racing through my head at that point.
Without warning, the smoothness of the dirt track was replaced with a harshness that sent shockwaves up through the carriage. The surface made the entire carriage shake, and I had to reach out with my right forehoof to steady myself using the wooden door as my support. Reaching out had caused me to lean to the right and from this position I could see a bright yellow light, dull at first, but which slowly grew brighter as we pulled near it.
The light was a useful tool for my eyes and I was greeted to the sight of a low stone wall that stretched off into the night in both directions. I’m a stickler for decour and well-designed structures and this wall was no exception as we approached, a flicker of light blinded me momentarily and I was quick to understand that it wasn’t coming from the lampost. It was a metal plaque that had been carefully hammered into the stone wall that divided the road from the landlord’s property with something etched onto it. I surmised that it was probably the name of the family who owned the land. As we passed the lamppost I was able to read it properly and immediately I wished I hadn’t.
PINO
To be continued…
