Death of a Spy

by Sweet Chili Heat

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Death, Porn, Fetish, Bon-Bon, Non-consensual, Violence, Fancypants, Sex, Anthro, Profanity, Fleur de Lis
Length: 3618

Things go poorly for a pair of spies when one gets captured during a mission.

When things go south during a mission, Secret Agent Sweetie Drops is forced to watch helplessly as her fellow agent is dragged on stage and snuffed.

Contains: Snuff (Hanging), Rape (Corrective), and Torture

This is a SADE fic.

Also, why not, this fic was written for DLS' Dirty Little Contest.

Published 2020-03-01 03:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-03-01 03:00:01 UTC

Death of a Spy

Secret Agent Sweetie Drops surveyed the smoke-filled room, examining the various socialites as they lounged at their tables, chatting, drinking, and smoking with one another. To your average pony, these would just seem to be your ordinary members of Canterlot high society. She saw bankers chatting with lawyers, who bought drinks for aristocrats, who in turn exchanged business cards with tycoons.

Yet, this group was far more sinister than it appeared, being the monthly meeting of the Canterlot Republican League. These ponies may have seemed like good citizens in the public eye, but behind the veil of private life, they were a collection of radicals who wanted nothing more than to overthrow the monarchy and instil a new model of governance.

Hence, why Sweetie Drop was here, to get names, to gain the trust of high-rank members, and in the end, to dismantle this organisation before it became more than just an idle threat and glorified gentlemares club.

Though, her vital mission was made a whole lot harder by the sudden and concerning absence of her partner.

“Where’s Fleur?” Sweetie Drops muttered under her breath, smoothing out her dress with a hand as she glanced around the room.

She hadn’t seen the other mare all night, which was bad considering they were supposed to rendezvous ten minutes ago. This whole situation had impending disaster written all over it. Yet, what could Sweetie Drops honestly do? She was in the very den of the republican effort, in a backroom theatre brimming with hired goons and cutthroat megalomaniacs.

If she was already compromised, they’d have eyes on her and those eyes would be extra cautious about her heading towards any feasible exits. And if she wasn’t compromised, she couldn’t very well leave without knowing what the hell happened to Fleur.

“Ah Bon Bon,” a voice called from a nearby table.

Sweetie Drops turned towards it, offering the gentlestallion a practiced smile. “Mr. Pants, I must thank you again for getting me into tonight’s meeting.”

“It was my pleasure dear,” he said, offering his own inviting smile. “Can’t very well turn down fresh blood.” He motioned to the seat beside him. “Would you care to join me for a drink? My treat of course.”

Sweetie glanced around the room, still seeing no sign of Fleur. Yet, even without her, she couldn’t very well turn down an opportunity to socialize with one of the leading figures in the republican cause. There were few names as wealthy as Fancy Pants, nor were there as many dedicated to the dreams of an Equestrian Republic.

“I’d love to,” Sweetie said, stepping towards his table. As she did so, she swayed her hips from side to side, allowing her abundant earth pony assets to sway back and forth.

The motions had their intended effect, drawing Fancy’s gaze towards her body. He eyed her up hungrily and with little reservation. Though she had no doubt that the cut of her dress, designed to attract a stallion’s gaze, helped this cause greatly.

“I’ll admit…” Sweetie Drops began, taking a seat beside him, “I thought this event would offer more speeches and political showboating. This honestly feels more like a fundraising event than anything else.”

Fancy laughed and motioned towards a waiter. “Well that’s pretty much what this is. We put on a show, ask for donations, and use the money to fund whatever causes the central committee deems necessary.” He paused for a moment, ordering a pair of cocktails before continuing. “I’ll be painfully honest dear, most of these ponies don’t have the gusto for planning a change of government. What they do have is a lot of money and a vested interest in wanting an advantageous position in our new world order.”

“A show?” Sweetie Drops asked.

Fancy smirked. “Yes, dear. Food, drinks, and entertainment. Nothing opens up wallets more than those three factors slapped overtop of a good cause.”

He reached over and placed a hand on her bare thigh. Even with the training of a spy it took a lot of willpower for Sweetie Drops not to flinch away. She knew that sometimes her duties called on her to play the role of a femme fatale but she had never felt even the remotest attraction to the opposite sex. Not an impossible factor for the job, but one that made it far more uncomfortable at times, for sure.

Still, Sweetie Drops played her part, placing her own hand against Fancy’s as she shot him a seductive smolder. “Well I hope you don’t find me completely useless. Though, I’m afraid I don’t have too much money to spare. Don’t get me wrong, ponies love their sweets, but I’m not exactly Filthy Rich.”

Fancy chuckled. “I’m sure we’ll find a position for you in our organization, Bon Bon.”

Before he could continue the waiter returned, placing down a pair of drinks. Sweetie Drops was given something very colourful and sweet looking while Fancy was left with a copper mug.

Sweetie snorted. “I didn’t take you for a Stalliongrad Mule kind of guy.”

Fancy shrugged. “Why waste the talents of the bar staff on pouring some scotch over ice?” He took a sip and let out a content sigh. “Honestly feels like a waste of their talents.”

Before Sweet Drops could rebuke that statement a mare took the stage, instantly silencing the murmur of the room. Whoever she was, she apparently held enough sway to garner the complete attention of Canterlot’s high society.

“Liberty, equality, and fraternity, brothers and sisters,” the mare said. “I’m so glad to see you all again, and I’m even happier to see so many fresh faces amongst our ranks. We have so much wonderful news to cover.” She motioned with her wrist. “For starters, I am proud to announce that we’ve recently formed a delicate partnership with the Equestrian Labour League and the Revolutionary Peasant Front of Equestrian-Borne Gryphons.”

This was met with a cascade of jeers which the mare masterfully silenced by holding up a commanding hand, once again taming the room.

“I know, I know, the last thing any of you want is a socialist revolution after the fact. But let’s face it, I know none of you are really planning to man the barricades when the time comes. As such, we’ll unfortunately need these groups as our foot soldiers and enforcers.”

Fancy chuckled and shook his head. “She really does know how to play the room, doesn’t she?”

“Beyond that, I’d like to welcome a few guests tonight, including the leaders of our Manehattan and Trottingham branches. Can we give them a round of applause please?”

A reluctant ripple echoed throughout the room, and as Sweetie Drops glanced around, she noticed that everypony was now sitting on the edge of their seats. Obviously, they were familiar with this routine and were eagerly awaiting what came next.

“And we of course have lots of other matters to discuss. However, I can tell that you didn’t come here tonight to hear my blab on and on, so all the lesser issues can wait until after tonight’s festivities.” The mare donned a rather cruel grin. “And boy let me tell you, tonight is going to be loads of fun. Because tonight we captured an honest to the goddesses monarchist spy trying to infiltrate our organization. Can you believe it?”

Sweetie Drops’ blood instantly chilled as the room thundered in applause.

“Everything alright?” Fancy asked, giving her a cautious eye. “You seem tense?”

“The spy isn’t part of tonight’s entertainment, is she?” Sweetie Drops asked.

Fancy nodded. “What can I say, Bon Bon, ponies like rare forms of entertainment and well… our host caters to the rarest market of them all.”

His lips peeled back in a perverted smile at that comment, sending a shiver up Sweetie’s spine.

Fuck, this wasn’t going to be good.

The rowdiness of the room seemed to grow with each passing second, the murmur for whatever was about to unfold growing louder and louder. Their host didn’t seem to taper this lust, instead allowing it to fester and grow until they were all banging their fists against their tables, practically foaming at the mouths for what came next.

“Alright, alright, I can see that you’re done with me,” their host said, rolling her wrist and bowing. “Now, I just want to let you know that tonight’s opening act has been a little roughed up, but I know you sickos don’t give a rats ass about that. So…” Off to the side a drum roll played. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Their host stepped off the stage and the curtains drew back.

Sweetie Drops eyes widened as she saw Fleur De Lis on the other side. She was perched upon a stool with a noose around her neck and hands bound behind her back. She’d been stripped completely naked and was blindfolded. Yet, even as the room thundered at her appearance, screaming for her blood, she kept a steel faced determination.

Her flesh was brutalized, bruised, and burned. Welts coated her face, each one designating a place where a fist had landed, deforming and discolouring her usually beautiful complexion. Bandages, swollen with blood, coated parts of her body. Yet, what really made Sweetie Drops stomach churn was the distinctive stains of white that coated Fleur’s crotch. Their host hadn’t been lying when she said this mare had been through quite a bit.

Fancy hissed. “Oh, this is going to look so bad on me.” He shook his head slowly. “I was the one who sponsored her. Honestly, its so hard to find ponies you can trust.” He punctuated this point by patting Sweetie Drops on the leg.

Sweetie swallowed a lump in her throat. “That it is.”

The crowd grew more and more rowdy, their chants demanding the sacrifice of this mare, of this traitor to their cause. And well, they weren’t left waiting for long.

A stallion in a black hood came onto stage, earning howls of encouragement as he postured for the crowd. He seemed to play them up like a professional wrestler would, making his way over with showy steps, each one pumping up the atmosphere a little more. Though no matter how slowly he took them, it would not prevent the inevitable from happening as he eventually made his way over to Fleur.

He rested a hand upon her hip, caressing her battered flesh with a perverted tenderness. A few words were spoken, earning a scowl from her. She said something in return and then spit in his face. This earned a few shocked gasps from the crowd, who then taunted the executioner, building up the stallion’s motives with each passing phrase and casual insult.

Though, Sweetie Drops doubted he really needed the encouragement as he kicked out and knocked the stool out from under Fleur.

Gravity instantly took effect and she dropped, though by the barest amount. Sadly, it was not enough to snap her neck, instead merely cutting off her airway and allowing the agony of her weight to take its effect.

Almost immediately, she started to struggle, kicking out and seeking any form of leverage to prop herself up. Yet, there was none to be found.

The executioner gave her a potent shove, sending her swinging before stepping back. Sweetie Drops watched in utter horror as Fleur swung back and forth like a pendulum, her legs flailing wildly and body helplessly squirming in desperation against her restraints. Though the knots that bound her hands were far too tight.

Her execution was joined by the angry hollows of the crowd. They sounded as ravenous as drunken fans attending a buckball game, jeering and throwing insults at the opposing team. However, unlike that setting, there was not a soul in attendance who vocally supported Fleur.

Fleur’s horn started to glow and for a moment Sweetie Drops’ hopes rose. Yet, the executioner still remained close by and this act of defiance was met by a swift punishment as he launched a fist into her gut. In an instant, her spell dissipated, and if there was any wind left within her struggling lungs, it would’ve been knocked out by that act of brutality.

All that was left was the pathetic kicking of a mare who wasn’t long for this world, flailing in utter desperation. Soon her slender pink legs were darkened by a thin stream of urine as she wet herself, her piss draining down her shaking joints.

It was an utterly pathetic display and yet Sweetie couldn’t look away.

“Bother, they aren’t even toying around with her tonight,” Fancy murmured. “Our host really wanted this one dead, I suppose. Still, it's never fun being cucked like this.”

Sweetie Drops glanced at Fancy and then down at his crotch, noticing that the stallion bore a rather hefty erection from the display. When she looked back up, she saw him smiling at her.

“Not your type of entertainment?” he asked.

Sweetie Drops forced herself to nod. “A bit brutal for my taste.”

“Well I can’t imagine it’s easy watching a friend die either.”

Sweetie Drops tried her best not to show her shock. “P-pardon?”

Fancy chuckled and slowly shook his head, motioning for someone behind Sweetie Drops to come over. “Did you know that we have several officers of the royal guard amongst our ranks? Including well… unfortunately for you, a senior member of the Equestrian Intelligence Agency.”

“Fuck,” Sweetie Drops whispered.

“Fuck indeed,” Fancy said, chuckling. “I’m afraid you’re not getting out of this alive, Captain Sweetie Drops.”

He knew her real name. Double fuck.

As she turned away, to see who approached, she was ambushed by a fist slamming hard into her cheek. It landed like a meteor, knocking out any of the panicked thoughts her mind was trying to scramble together. Before she could even register the blow, she was violently grabbed and thrown onto the wooden table.

A fire immediately ignited in her shoulder and Sweetie Drops screamed in utter agony as the assailant’s knife pierced deep into her flesh. She felt the blade rip through muscle and shatter bone before tearing through the other side of her shoulder and embedding into the table.

She tried to move but the knife had her effectively pinned, with the only method of retreat being its removal. And this was not likely to happen, as a strong hand pinned her still functional arm to the table, holding her firmly in place.

As she looked up, through pain-stricken vision, she saw Fancy smoldering over top of her. He chuckled to himself and shook his head before looking to one of the assailants.

“Make her watch,” he instructed.

Another hand came forward and forcefully grabbed her hair, yanking on it sharply to turn her head towards the stage.

Fleur was still dancing, with a fair amount of vigour left in her slowly asphyxiating form. Yet, it didn’t matter how hard she tried, none of her desperate actions seemed to afford her even a moment of relief.

Fancy’s voice returned. “You know, Sweetie Drops, my contact within your agency told me that you were a lesbian.” He snorted and Sweetie flinched as her dress was hiked up, exposing her panties. “I think we should aim to rectify that before you join your colleague on stage.”

Sweetie opened her mouth to protest but someone twisted the blade in her shoulder, sending a fiery flash through her body and guaranteeing that the only sound that came forth was a bellow of raw agony.

She felt cold steel move along her inner thigh as another knife presented itself. It danced along her flesh, occasionally leaving a little nick or cut, making her flinch with each additional mark upon her flesh. Yet, the pony wielding it showed a surprising delicateness as he reached her crotch, ever so carefully cutting her panties off and exposing her sex to Fancy. As her undergarment parted, a pair of fat fingers prodded at her cunt, drawing forth a pathetic mew from her pain-stricken vocals.

Fleur kicked out again, her legs getting deflected by the executioner, who instead simply pushed her away. By now, a sickly shade of blue had crept into her complexion. It was obvious that she wasn’t long for this world. She’d last maybe a dozen or so seconds at most at the rate she was going.

Yet, Sweetie had more pressing concern to distract herself with, as she felt the flared tip of a cock press against her lower lips. There was no foreplay to prepare her for this rape, as the stallion seemed hellbent on using her. Fancy’s only sign of tenderness was a single gentle pat on the hip before slamming into her, hilting himself as deep as he could.

She gasped in pain, sobbing at both the fiery bolts that ebbed through her shoulder and the crude wrongness that assaulted her nethers.

“Please,” Sweetie Drops said. “S-stop.”

Fancy laughed, his amusement taking on a slightly haggard quality, obviously fatigued by the viciously pounding of her snatch. Yet, Sweetie barely even noted the laughter, instead focusing on the crude wetness of each thrust as his cock slapped into her.

“No,” Fancy eventually said, grunting to himself. “You royalist cunts think you can play spy and get away with it? I’m going to enjoy myself, then I’m going to enjoy watching you die.”

The blade was twisted again and Sweetie Drops gasped, her back arching as if an electric current was driven through it.

“Ohhhhh, that felt good,” Fancy teased, hissing through clenched teeth. “This bitch tightens right up when you do that. Try it again, would you?”

His orders were followed and once again another tortured scream was ripped from Sweetie Drops’ maw as the blade was twisted. She could feel a wet spot form around her shoulder and it took her a second to realize that it was her blood oozing forth and pooling around her.

Fancy moaned softly, his ecstasy coming out as a series of low masculine grunts, each marked by him forcefully bottoming out inside of her.

Sweetie Drops felt tears prickle in her eyes, as the first tortured sob broke free. It was a pathetic sound, a defeated sound, the type of sound you’d expect to hear from someone who had just been broken upon the wheel.

Before her vision was robbed by these tears, she saw Fleur give out. Her final kicks were little more than the desperate twitches of a body that was finally accepting the fact that it was dead. And with them, her dance came to an end.

Her body hung from the rope, limp, with only the momentum of her long-gone struggle giving her any form of movement. Though even this atrophied eventually, until finally, she was still.

The crowd clapped, cheering the executioner for a fine show.

“Bitch barely even lasted two minutes,” one of the nearby stallions muttered. “They could’ve drawn it out for a little bit longer.”

“You’re never happy with how long these things last,” another stallion chimed in.

The first stallion chuckled. “Of course not, I’m paying five figures for a two-minute cock tease. I’m telling you; they need to do less hangings and more live tortures. Now that shit can go on for hours.”

“Some of us don’t have hours, Smoke. I need to get back home to the wife and foals by like ten.”

Sweetie Drops failed to listen to them any longer, her senses fading as the puddle around her grew.

Fancy delivered a few more potent thrusts, each of them growing more sporadic and desperate, until finally he hilted himself nice and deep within her.

A final little groan escaped his lips as his seed shot forth. His essence felt like a toxin, hot and violent as it filled her well-used cunt. Not only was it vile but it was also plentiful, soon overwhelming her sex and spilling out onto the table.

Sweetie tried to speak, to beg, but her lips were too worn from her tortured screams. Instead, she closed her eyes and just waited, allowing the inevitable to come to her.

Fancy delivered his mercy soon enough, pulling out of her with a depraved slurp and additional gush of fluids onto the table. He chuckled softly and patted her pelvis soothingly.

“Shame we need to deal with you in this fashion,” he said. “Feels like a waste knocking you up, only to have to snuff you.” He sighed, probably shaking his head. “Oh well, at the very least we ensured that you’re a proper mare before sending you on your way.”

Sweetie sobbed softly and opened her eyes.

Above her stood the executioner, his cold eyes looking down upon her from behind the safety on his hood.

She glanced at his hand, seeing a hammer in it.

He tossed it gently in the air, letting it thud into his callused and strong-looking hand.

“Any last words?” he asked in a deep baritone, befitting for a stallion of his stature.

“Fuck you,” Sweetie Drops hissed, though her voice barely allowed for a whisper.

The hood creased as the stallion smiled. “Well you’re in luck.”

He rested the head of the hammer against her skull before drawing back.

“I don’t need you alive to enjoy that.”

Author's Note

Welp i finally bit the bullet and used this account. Hope you all enjoy a little bit of hardcore depravity. Also glad to be the first member of SADE to post a fic.

And if you're someone who just saw the 900 red tags and downvoted? Well, i'm assuming you didn't read this far :U.