Whatever Will I Do With This Mare?
The Batpony found herself in quite the predicament. True it was that she would not have been there were it not for her own desires. She wished to be like this: muzzled and bound with rope tied around her back, between her haunches and across her stomach. It dug into her flesh in a way that was both achingly uncomfortable and pleasant, like the dull warmth of a hearth. Every time she shifted, the rope dug further against her marehood, riding up between her petals and pressed firmly against her dock. If she tugged or pulled just slightly, it would rub against her in such a way that she could almost bring herself to orgasm if she really tried.
But a good pet did not do that, and she was a good pet, indeed.
An average-sized pegasus sits at his writing table, a great many words cluttering up his mind's eye. Dipping his quill in ink he furrowed his brow and prepared to press it down. Behind him, some rustling caught his attention, and he turned his gaze. His charge, his confidant, his lover, neigh, his pet was shifting restlessly where he'd bound her, rattling around against the bars of her kennel. One wordless look from him was all it took, and she quieted down, features drooping. He began to write.
To the esteemed Gentlecolts and Fillies of the Society,
It is with great regret and sadness that I hear of the rejection of my application of Membership.
It is also with the utmost respect and admiration for the Society that I write to you now.
His quill having run dry, he moved to dip it once more, when there came a soft whimpering sound behind him. He paused, waiting for the sweet sound. Not a plea, nor a beg. It wasn't even truly a word, but a sound. Then it came.
"Skreee" It came barely loud enough to register a few feet away, like a whisper.
He turned, eyebrow raised. Waiting.
"SkreeeeEEEEEeeeee!" came the reply. Pressed against her kennel the batpony tilted her muzzle up, ears flopped back and her eyes shut. It was embarrassing and degrading, and they both knew it, but it was precisely what he had wanted to hear.
The pegasus put down his quill and trotted across the room. At the foot of his bed was a large black rectangular cage, with a small dog's bed and a bowl for water. Inside, a young mare was huddled within. She didn't dare make eye contact, her eyes peering down. She wore a muzzle halter that connected to a matching collar with a shiny tag that read 'Bat Slut'.
He walked around the cage and peered inside with his head dipped lower. She cowered, knowing always to be lower than he was. He smiled at her obedience, at how well she'd learned under his firm tutelage. A hoof gently rapped at her cage, and he spoke to her finally.
"What is it you need, my sweet?" he spoke in a simple, condescending tone, like one would use to speak to a favourite pet, or a very small foal. She opened her mouth to speak, before realization that he was testing her struck. Instead, she dipped her head down and chittered softly, baring her fangs and nibbling insistently at her leash, despite her muzzle making it difficult to do so. It felt so alien to her, to make those sounds, yet so familiar and instinctual. It was exactly what he wanted to hear.
"Ahhh. It must be snacktime." He smiled and unlocked her cage, bring a hoof around to pet her. "You've been good and quiet today, so I think you deserve a treat beyond the usual." At his words she perked up, ears swiveling to and fro while she sniffed the air. He couldn't mean...
Mangoes, so juicy and sweet, yet tangy and robust. He brought them nary a moment later, sliced up in small bites, and placed them in her bowl that was within reach of her head. His pet grinned wildly and displayed those pointy fangs again.
Once again at peace and content that all was well with her, he returned to his letter.
A few moments later, the pegasus leaned back in his chair to check on his batpony. She had finished her snack, and with a careful glance in his direction, had decided to go about licking and grooming what parts of herself she could reach, checking to make sure he was watching every now and again.
The Society holds an important and special role to many in our community. For some, it is an outlet from the drab of day-to-day life; others, an escape. More still, a place of worship. The universal truth is clear: that yours is the place for which many come to embark on journeys of self indulgence and discovery.
Dear sir or madam, it is for this for which I write. For clearly the Society takes utmost care in its rules, and it is these rules that keep its members safe. Of this I do not refute. Yet I find myself rejected for not having read myself the great books for which your society takes its name, due to their sheer length and the wide breadth of coverage!
If I might be so bold as to say, this is something that I cannot so simply acquiesce. The core guidelines of the society contain a great deal of information, and with respect, I do not envy those who pour over textbooks like an eager study, though it is with great regret that I do find that it is in this spirit that the core books are written!
As such I make in good faith and in the spirit of your devotion to individualism this letter as my reapplication to the Society. I would make clear my adherence to the Society's laws and uphold its spirit with the highest standards.
His inkwell nearly empty, he set down his quill for a moment. The rustling of fur against cage and the jingling of a collar brought him back from his train of thought, and a deviant idea sparked within. He rose from his chair and approached the cage, trotting around with the scrutiny of a commanding officer.
She wanted to speak, to beg him to do something, anything to her, but couldn't. Instead, she whined and gnawed at her confines. Her ropes had been tied to the cage in a manner that kept them taut and digging against her fur. He grabbed at them with a strong forehoof and tugged, causing her to jump up to the tips of her hooves as they dug so tightly into her most private of places. She wanted to just scream. Her eyes watered and she squealed out, letting out the familiar sound again and again. The one so well known to her kind.
"Skree! Skreeeee!" She flagged her tail high beyond what her confines had already done. The pegasus merely chuckled as he unlatched the cage and undid her ropes tying her to its roof. She was tugged out by her leash abruptly, still dipping her head low and obediently until she was lead to the bed.
She knew, then, what was expected of her. What would make her a good submissive and pet to him. Her cheeks lit up in shy hesitation but her body showed no such reluctance. She climbed onto his large, soft bed and sprawled out near the edge.
Her wings and tail had been bound to her sides and her back prior, and he made no effort to release them now. She shrunk down against the bed, hind legs splayed for him, breath coming in sharp and heavy. She was so wanting now, so ready.
He climbed on top of her, his size nearly dwarfing her as he put his weight on her back. There was a moment of silent communication as he shifted above, her shifting back. They found contact and kissed in the most intimate of ways, though not with their muzzles. Then all of a sudden he was in her, thrusting away with earnest, and she took him with desperation and want. The room was filled with the sounds of grunting and moaning, wet slaps from their conjoined bodies, the smell of sweat heavy in the air. He bit down on her ear and she squealed in delight. His member trembled and shook and erupted inside of her, leaving behind a sticky, hot mess and a deep satisfaction in both of them.
They collapsed in a heap and he untied her, letting her finally stretch her aching wings. She went to him at once and burrowed into his chest fur, craving his affection. He gave it freely, kissing and massaging her all over, rubbing those sore joints and her aching haunches, wrapping her up in the blankets. A shower would come later. Her needs came first now.
Hours later, the pegasus returned to his desk and dipped his quill once more. There was little more than the dim light of a candle, a soft snore coming from the bed behind him. He remained thoughtful for a moment as he gazed at the page, considering his next words. Decisions made, he started to write.
It is my hope that you would reconsider my official application as member, so that I may write more in the future my own personal chapter of the Society. It would mean the world to me to be accepted.
Respectfully yours,
Rough Draft
