"And just where do you think you're going, Dr. Caballeron?" said Moondancer, her strong hind legs clamped around the sub's trunk. "Tell me where you're hiding the sacred totems you stole from Chief Thunderhoof, and I promise to go easy on you."
"Nuh-Never..." said the sub. "If you want those totems back, you'll have to... have to..."
His protest ended with a croak, which Moonie drowned out with a louder "Nnnnggghhh," her quads trembling in response to their own power. One bore deep into his lower spine, the other his tender underbelly. He could feel them inching closer and closer together by agonizing degrees, each intent on meeting the other in the middle.
The "middle" being his rib cage, of course, and all the squishy bits it encased.
Moonie was fast becoming his favorite regular. Lots of his clients enjoyed roleplaying during their domination sessions, but only Moonie offered scripts adapted from her own erotic fiction: commissions she took from strangers for fun, and to make a little side money.
Tonight's story featured the brave and beautiful Daring Do (played by an equally beautiful Moondancer), and her arch nemesis, the nefarious Dr. Caballeron (played by the sub, naturally).
After searching tirelessly for Chief Thunderhoof's stolen totem heads, Daring Do had at last cornered Caballeron on a train headed for Dodge City. The fiend had tried to escape, hopping from train car roof to train car roof, but the heroine had chased him down, tackled him, and quickly cinched in a crippling bodyscissor.
Now Caballeron was utterly trapped.
Of course the train car was only Moonie's bed, but she was a powerful magician, and had cast a spell that manipulated the sub's senses. Dry, desert air raked through his mane and tail as the train roared onward, and, impossibly, the chugga-chugga of iron wheels on iron rails resounded within his ears. It was the kind of elaborate roleplay only Moonie could pull off. His favorite touch was the strength-enhancing spell she'd used on herself, which granted her the athleticism one expected from a heroine who spent many of her days raiding tombs.
The interplay of reality and fantasy had awakened something in the sub - something apparent in the brazen tightness of his already snug briefs. In his unique line of work, he'd grown accustomed to yielding to the hottest and fittest creatures in Equestria. It never got old, the way good food and better sex never lose their vice-grip on one's endorphins. But if one indulged often, as the sub did, he risked diminishing his lust for hind legs and torture and humiliation.
He risked forgetting the Game. Not all of it, but the tiny nuances that had hooked him in the first place. The details.
And if anypony could remind him of the details, it was Moonie, who had transformed her wooly sweater into Daring Do's button-down shirt, which she wore open to expose pillowy tangles of chest fluff.
Maintaining both the spell and the scissorhold proved difficult for Moonie, whose scrunched face illustrated as much. Like an extension of her racy costumes, she always wore the hottest expressions while dominating him. He got back to all fours and tried to scramble away - not because he wanted to escape, no, never that, but because he wanted to force Moonie to subdue him. To pin him down and hold him there and make him think twice about fleeing a second time.
Moonie did not disappoint. Still gripping his trunk, she rolled all the way over: first dragging his body atop hers and then slamming him back-first onto the mattress.
No, not the mattress, the train car's roof - he felt hot steal rattle beneath his spine. He tried to scramble again, but she seized his fore, yanked it straight and hugged it to her barrel. Her chest fluff caressed the ensnared limb. Using the bend of one knee, he hooked her quad and tried to peel it off his underbelly. Still, the mass of muscle only plunged deeper and deeper, leaving visible lines where it creased both flesh and fur.
"Ah-ah-aahhhhh...," he groaned, exaggerating his dismay for Moonie's sake - but not by much. She was really hurting him tonight. He thought of their first session together, when she was still new to the experience of living out her fantasies, still too reserved to lose herself in the Game.
She had come a long way since then.
"Surrender, Caballeron," Moonie growled. "Unless you wanna lose one rib for every totem you stole."
"Th-Those totems are mine..."
"And this is mine," said Moonie, her quads rippling as they went on compressing his aching diaphragm, his tortured ribs and spine. "You're so weak. How's it feel to get crushed by a mare half your size?"
Agonizing.
Humbling.
Phenomenal.
"You call this a scissorhold?" he said, his strained voice undermining the bluff. "Feels more like... a light snuggle."
Moonie smirked with Daring Do's lips, her swaggering confidence.
Breaking the hold, she turned the sub in her grip and forced their chests to meet, then tucked his head under her foreleg. He expected her to cinch in a guillotine choke, but instead she hooked one of his hinds and then joined her front hooves, applying a kind of modified cradle pin.
With his leg hooked and his head stuck beneath her forelimb, the sub had no hope of escaping. He was helpless against the sweat-slick hinds that once again scissored his body. Moonie stuffed him in nice and deep, quivering with anticipation as her pelvis mashed against his underbelly.
"And now?" she taunted. "Still feel like a snuggle?"
The sub tried and failed to suppress the quivers that racked his own body. "You smug mule! When I get out from between your fat, misshapen thighs, I swear I'm going to feed you those damn totems one by on-wwaaahhhnnn!"
His rant broke into yet another pitiful groan, as Moonie shut her eyes and bucked her hips and flung her head backwards in a carnal show of euphoria. Her hat fell off during this harder, firmer squeeze, and her mane spilled across her shoulders, gorgeous in all its matted glory.
A burst of pain erased the sub's concentration. Despite the whistle of the speeding train, and the feel of hot, dry air rushing all around him, he forgot to stay in character. He was supposed to fight back, because the villainous Doctor Caballeron would never surrender to his arch nemesis - never! But now, with his vision blurring and his ribs ablaze, all he wanted was to lean against his beloved dom and let her take him.
He gave up any hope of fighting back, and Moonie's breath quickened at the feel of his body going limp in her grasp. She opened her hinds, wedged him in deeper, snapped them shut again. Then her horn ignited with a power even her thick thighs couldn't match - not yet anyway.
Raw magic crackled through her hind legs like electricity through a power-line, supercharging the muscles that laced them. The sub felt her quads grow denser, the muscles chisling themselves into ever more impressive shapes - shapes diamond-like in look and texture. He cried out as they gained a full inch in diameter.
"Stop! Stooooop!"
His pleas acted as the very twist of the vice's screw. The more he cried out, the harder Moonie compressed his trunk.
The hot air swirling around him was nothing but a clever magical illusion - but the heat radiating from Moonie's inner thighs was real. She was sweaty and flushed all over. Her teets went stiff with ecstasy, and her chest and belly heaved against his own, her mouth ajar as ragged breaths shuffled in and out, in and out.
"St-Stop..." He could only whisper it now. Moonie answered him with a head-shake - uh-uh, no way, not gonna happen - and then sighed with pleasure at the feel of his body shriveling into a fetal position.
She held him like that for what seemed like ages, her hind legs fully extended, stifles locked out, quads boring in to pulverize an already over-taxed rib cage. She muttered something about how good it felt to finally capture her arch nemesis. The sub tried to retort, to stay in character, but ended up choking on his own words.
And then tapping out.
Three pats to her flank. The physical counterpart to their safety word, which he used whenever asphyxiation kept him from speaking.
Her demeanor changed instantly. All the trappings of her spell - the speeding train, the unbuttoned shirt, the desert air, the new and seductive definition that laced her hind legs - vanished. She opened her hinds and sat upright on the bed, suddenly flustered.
"Oh my goodness!" She sat him upright as well, pressing her chest to his shoulder blades, then hooked her fores under his and gently lifted them above his head. His first full breath came too quickly, and he broke into a painful coughing fit.
"Ssshhhh," said Moonie, her voice tender. "Ssshh. You're okay now, you're okay. Just breathe."
The sub settled down, followed her instructions.
Just breathe.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
"There you go. Like that. You're okay, just breathe."
It took a while, but the sub eventually caught his breath. Moonie lowered his forelegs and pulled him into a gentle hug. She was careful not to squeeze him too tightly.
She nuzzled his hackles, kissed the depression between his shoulder blades. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
He told her what she really wanted to hear. "You did. But not too badly."
She hugged him a bit tighter. "Really?"
"Really."
"But you're okay, right?"
"I'm okay."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
Her voice crackled with excitement. "But I really did hurt you, huh?"
"You really did."
He turned around and kissed her on the mouth.
They finished the Game. The strong and sexy Daring Do abused Caballeron until he surrendered, and then returned the totems to a grateful Chief Thunderhead. Next she turned Caballeron over to the authorities, and later, after nightfall, she broke into the jailhouse and snuck into his cell.
They tumbled with each other once more, on the cot in his cell, this time enjoying an altogether different kind of wrestling match.
The guardpony did all he could to fend off the intruder, even as he literally bent to her will. Pins, chokeholds, joint and compression locks – she hosted a veritable grappling clinic in the dimly lit library, manipulating his body like it was her personal practice dummy. Three years of combat training were all that kept his lungs working and his bones intact – for the most part. Again and again he managed to wriggle free of her submission holds (eventually), and again and again she caught him, marehandled him, humbled him.
Utterly humiliated him.
He put up a decent fight but still the contest ended with the earth mare glued to his back, her forelegs coiled around his neck, hinds fully extended as they scissored his trunk.
"Try not to wheeze too loudly." The arousal in her voice was palpable. "After all, this is a library."
Leaning against a bookshelf, she shut her eyes and gritted her teeth and flexed all four limbs. Her quads ballooned to compress his trunk, looking suddenly thicker and firmer and curvier in her thigh-highs, while her bicep and forearm sank deeply into either side of his neck. A low and oddly sensual "Nnnnggghhhh…" rolled off her lips, tumbled into his ear.
She punctuated the grunt with a breathy, "Yeah… that’s it," her tone brimming with the kind of carnal satisfaction that often followed the first bite of a hot meal, the initial sip of a cold drink. A taste – just a taste – and she wanted more.
Gradually, she wrung the air from his lungs and the fight from his spirit. He groped at a dense bicep with one hoof and a bulging quad with the other, his mind swimming as he struggled to gain purchase on either, to grip them and wrench them away. The mare chuckled at his efforts.
Feeling her gaze on him, he craned his neck and tilted his chin toward the ceiling. His eyes rolled upward to meet hers. She smiled and rested her jaw atop his head: a gentle gesture, almost intimate.
"You’re not very good at this, are you?" Something new had snuck into her sultry tone, meshing seamlessly with the arousal. Tenderness? Compassion? "Meet me at the courtyard once you wake up. If you don’t turn me in, I promise to teach you all my best moves."
Something about the way she said "all" made his wings twitch. If not for the solid chest pressed to his back, they would have jutted to their full length, stiffened to their full rigidity.
The last thing he felt before passing out was her teeth grazing his ear. Maybe she whispered something else, maybe not. He wasn’t sure. He was only semi-conscious now, already drifting off to sleep, and looking forward to their rendezvous in the courtyard.
