The location was a dimly lit basement with only a single bare bulb illuminating the space. The floors were solid concrete, the walls the same, though with a few cracks already running through the foundation. A series of wooden pillars were also present, support beams which looked damp and a little moldy.
What was most surprising was just how empty the venue was. If this was a proper basement there would’ve been shelves and boxes littered everywhere. After all, normally basements were the realms where you hid away hobbies that you lost the time to enjoy, passions that waned, and memories that held just enough attachment to you that you couldn’t bear to discard them.
This was a special type of basement, one which radiated a foreboding energy. A dark energy.
A camera was set up, turned towards the space directly under the bare bulb. It wasn’t recording. Yet, that could be changed easily enough by either of the pony’s present.
One was dressed in solid black, with a hood over their head disguising their identity. This was done more for the camera and its eventual audience. After all, the other mare, the one with a soft blue fur already knew who she was.
“Are you ready?” the hooded figure asked.
The blue mare nodded. “Trixie is always ready to perform.”
The hooded figure motioned towards the space under the bulb.
Trixie moved towards it, winking at her partner as she swayed her naked flesh back and forth before her eyes. The nudity was her idea. After all, it would asset in making any visual media more profitable and this film was going to be a doozy of a money maker.
The hooded figure enjoyed the sight greatly. Trixie was a beautiful mare with a shapely form. Curvy, thin, and could’ve easily gone into modelling or porn if she hadn’t opted instead to try her hand at being a mage and escape artist.
The later skill set would be the focus of their current film.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go over a safeword? Maybe set up some kind of way to get out if things go wrong?” the hooded figure asked.
Trixie shook her head. “No, Trixie has complete and utter confidence in her abilities. Either I will escape on my own or I will perish.” She shrugged. “I thought we agreed to this?”
The hooded figure sighed. “We… we did, yes.”
“Plus,” Trixie said, “you must have more confidence in Trixie’s abilities. She has escaped from a dozen feats that are a hundred times more daring than this. This is merely something a bit more indie, a cheap film to help pay for our upcoming spectacles.”
The hooded figure nodded before letting out a grim sigh. “That’s fair, that’s fair. I just… I’m worried, is all.”
“And that’s fair,” Trixie said, “but imagine that fear, that anxiety you’re feeling. Then imagine how the stallions and mares who buy this film will feel. If we cheapen things with safety precautions, then aren’t we devaluing their experience?”
“That… doesn’t make sense but…” the hooded figure shook her head, “but I’m not going to argue with you. I know how that goes.”
Plus, just because Trixie refused to take the necessary precautions, it didn’t mean that the hooded figure had to play by the same rules.
Trixie got on her knees and the hooded figure came over, holding a plastic bag at her side. Inside were a few items that would assist with this evening’s performance.
She knelt beside Trixie and pulled out the first of the items, a roll of shinny black bondage tape. Sure, not as strong as duct tape but it would do the job well enough without damaging Trixie’s fur.
“Hands,” the hooded figure requested.
Trixie nodded and held out both, with her fists tightly clenched.
The hooded figure then began to wind the tape around the left hand, looping it again and again. She didn’t stop until the entire hand was encased in a solid ball of the rubbery substance.
To prove that it worked, Trixie attempted to extend both of her hands. The free one, moved with ease, the bound one merely shuddered against its encasement.
The other hand was given a similar treatment, bound in layer after layer of tape until the whole thing was trapped and useless. The balls were perfectly smooth with no visible points that would allow Trixie to get a grip or potentially tear anything.
“Good?” The hooded figure asked.
“Trixie couldn’t have done it better herself,” Trixie teased.
The hooded figure nodded and grabbed the next of the items, a little pink bullet vibrator.
Trixie cocked a brow. “Really?”
“You’re the one who said that sex sells,” the hooded figure said, allowing it to sway back and forth, dangling from the cord connecting it to its remote control.
Trixie sighed. “Fair enough.”
The hooded figure turned on the device and began to trail it down Trixie’s naked stomach. She didn’t stop until she reached her folds, holding the vibrator against them and edging forth a playful little moan.
“Ready?” the hooded figure asked.
Trixie nodded and the figure slowly pushed the egg into her, sliding it deep enough that it would stay in on its own. The hooded figure then used another strip of tape to hold the controls against Trixie’s thigh.
Next, the hooded figure drew forth a pair of steel cuffs, separated by a long rigid bar. Each cuff looked strong and sturdy and would be locked in place by a pair of padlocks that were also in the bag.
These were meant for Trixie’s ankles.
The hooded figure grabbed one of her feet, causing the unicorn to snicker, due to her ticklishness, as she moved it into the cuff. She carefully rubbed the ankle before closing the heavy steel bondage and grabbing one of the padlocks. These were chosen at random, from a pool of twenty, meaning Trixie had no feasible way of knowing what the combination would be.
The other ankle was given the exact same treatment, and when the hooded figure was done, the two feet were kept spread apart, ensuring that they could not come together or be easily moved.
After all, the best part of any escape act was watching as the magician slowly freed themselves from a state of nearly complete immobility. At least, that’s what Trixie claimed.
“How does that feel?” the hooded figure asked, gently massaging one of Trixie’s feet.
“Not uncomfortable, but Trixie wouldn’t want to stay in this position for too long,” she replied.
“Can your toes reach the padlock?”
Trixie grunted, angling her foot in such a manner that she was able to wedge the dial between two of her toes. She then gave it a few turns, proving that it could be done. This was important because when it came down to it, this would be her only option for release.
The hooded figure nodded, pleased by the display. “Alright, then we’ll move on to the next item in our fun bag.”
She grabbed a silver ring with various runes spotted around the perimeter. It was a pretty common item within escape artist circles, being used by unicorns to suppress their natural magic. This one was a pretty pricey variant, having cost Trixie at least a couple hundred bits. Though she simply shrugged this off as a necessary expenditure to deny herself access to her powerful magical prowess.
A bold face lie, as the hooded figure knew that a ring worth half as much could’ve done the job easily enough. But she knew that Trixie’s ego was fragile and that alone made the cost worth it.
The figure slipped it down Trixie’s horn, causing the mare to draw in a breath as her connection to the natural world was robbed in such a complete fashion.
“That always feels so weird,” Trixie grumbled, squirming in her bondage.
The hooded figure chuckled, reaching forth and stroking her cheek. “I could only imagine. I was lucky enough to avoid wearing one during my redemption.” She then sighed, shaking her head. “Are you sure you really want to go through with this? No one will judge you if you decide to back out.”
“Please, Trixie does not get stage fight.” She proudly tilted her chin towards the roof. “She will best this challenge and make a fuck ton of bits while doing so.”
“Is the market for this kind of material really that big?”
Trixie shook her head. “No, but the meagre market that exists is more than willing to pay out of the ass for something that looks legitimate. It’s the law of supply and demand, only supply is almost non-existent.”
The hooded figure could not rebuttal, nor did she think continuing this discussion would be especially fruitful. When Trixie had her mind set on something, there was nothing anypony could do to stop her.
At the very least, Trixie had a minder, someone who could make the rational decisions for her when she was so obviously lacking in that department. Someone who was going to have to save her ass if she failed.
Oh sure, Trixie wouldn’t be happy about it but… the hooded figure would much rather have a living pissed off diva, than have to deal with putting together a funeral and a million excuses as to why Trixie was suddenly dead.
The hooded figure reached for the bondage tape, the last piece of this macabre performance. She placed a fat piece over Trixie’s mouth before coiling the roll around her head, effective denying her the ability to use her mouth.
Trixie huffed through her nose, looking at the hooded figure, daring her to do that last little thing and take the fateful step into ending this.
It took the hooded figure a moment to build up the courage. Then she moved to the side, allowing the camera to look at Trixie. She used her magic to turn it on, giving the future audience a few seconds to witness the mare and her peril, to really revel in how dire of a situation she was in.
Once that time passed, and the scene was set, the hooded figure broke off another piece of tape, placing it over Trixie’s nose.
And just like that, her darling was bound and suffocating.
The hooded figure couldn’t help but feel a little rush at the sight of it, a flash of heat assaulting her nethers.
She had no idea that such a display would be so erotic to watch. Even after all the promises that Trixie made. Yet, watching Trixie’s utter sense of helplessness was astounding, nearly beautiful to witness.
The hooded figure bit her lip and forced herself to move away, making room for Trixie to put on her show.
Almost immediately, Trixie began to angle her foot, fondling the padlock’s little dial. She was initially clumsy, merely prodding at it until she managed to get a half decent grip. At which point, she turned it by the smallest amount, feeling around for those little clicks that would mark her success.
As she worked, the hooded figure approached a wooden chair behind the camera, the only piece of furniture within the whole room.
She sat down, waiting on the very edge, ready to leap forward at a moment’s notice and save Trixie.
Only Trixie clearly had something else in mind, as the second the hooded figure’s rump touched the chair, it flashed a vibrant purple.
Soon, ethereal chains shot forth, coiling around her arms and legs and binding her tightly to the chair. She tried to fight against them but her magic was suddenly denied to her by some kind of suppression field.
“What the…” she grunted and looked at Trixie, who simply winked back.
That little bitch was really serious about doing this with no safety restraint, wasn’t she?!
“Not funny,” the hooded figure growled, caring little if her struggling was picked up on the camera’s microphone.
Trixie nodded towards the roof, turning a minute amount of attention away from her current situation.
The hooded figure followed her gaze and noticed a second camera there, recording her as well. She paled, realizing that she had become part of this performance. After all, what would make the peril more pressing than the fact that the victim’s savior was also bound and unable to come to her rescue.
But the question, that plagued the hooded figure, was how had Trixie been able to…
She paused for a moment, feeling something faint within the magical roping. It was a low thud, followed soon after, by another. It felt distinctly familiar, yet the hooded figure was unable to put a finger on where she…
It was a pulse.
The hooded figure gasped. The mythical rope was linked directly to Trixie’s beating heart.
She watched as Trixie furrowed her brow, dedicating her entire attention on the first of her ankle cuffs.
Trixie was slow with it, turning it only the tiniest amount, trying her best to pick up on that faint click of the internal mechanism.
At that moment, she looked fine, composed, like she wasn’t suffocating.
How long had it been? Only about twenty second surely. Yet, there was no greater time crunch than a pony’s lung capacity and the hooded figure highly doubted Trixie’s claims that she could go a full five minutes without.
The hooded figure gave up on her own futile struggling, focusing her entire attention on Trixie, pleading her to get through with this swiftly. She had no desire to watch her friend die.
Then why did she agree to this?
Because she didn’t think Trixie would be this stupid?
Well that was a bold assumption to make and we all know the saying about those. Something about making an ass out of ‘me’ and ‘u’?
Trixie let out a series of muffled grunting noises, her toe turning the dial by the most minute amount. Round and round it went until Trixie made a pleasured chirping noise and began to turn it in the opposite direction.
For a moment, the hooded figure felt her heart soar until Trixie overturned the dial and made a frustrated, yet also muffled, growling noise.
Once more, she began to turn it the original direction, though her pace now took on a hurried, almost panicked, quality. She started to squirm feebly and the hooded figure could feel Trixie’s pulse quicken through the mythical bondage that held her in place.
The vibrator was barely even a factor at this point, buzzing away, though having no effect on Trixie who was so concentrated on not dying that pleasure was obviously at the back of her mind. Though, a nice puddle of fluids had already formed around her rump.
Trixie reached up with her useless hands and pawed at the tape, though obviously, without any grip, this didn’t work out in her favour. Instead, she reached for the ring around her horn, which was also locked, this time by a mechanism that required a key. One that was in the hooded figure’s pocket and could not be handled by such clumsy appendages.
No, the only way out of this situation would be to deal with the padlock that held her ankle in place.
Trixie turned her full attention towards it and the hooded figure could feel her fear, feel the way her pulse quickened, burning through even more of her preciously low supply of oxygen.
A slight red discolouration marked Trixie’s complexion and her eyes bulged with genuine worry. Still, she tried her best, grunting triumphantly as the lock clicked for a second time in that attempt. One more success and she’d at least have her foot free, which would hopefully be enough to tear away the tape over her nose.
The hooded figure watched as Trixie attempted this, her foot straining to try and get the angle just right.
Then, just as Trixie seems on the brink of finding it, she roared against the tape, her foot seizing and fumbling with the dial, surely losing her mark in this escape attempt. She whimpered loudly and the hooded figure noticed that her whole leg seemed to tense up and seize.
She’d gotten a Charlie Horse…
“Come on Trixie, don’t give up on me now,” the hooded figure pleaded, squirming once more. “Use your other foot.”
Trixie nodded and, with her other less dexterous foot, started to repeat the process. As she worked, her brow creased, a whimper of despair coming forth through the gag, though no precious air was allowed to follow.
“Please don’t die, Trixie,” the hooded figure whispered, feeling Trixie’s heart rate spike through the rope.
There was now real terror in Trixie’s eyes, a fear that refused to abate. She continued to turn the dial but it seemed impossible for her to find success at this rate. Already, the reddish hue in her cheeks was fading away, adopting a bluish tint.
Her chest mimicked the motions of breathing, her breast swaying as her body instinctively had her suck the tape, desperate for even the smallest sliver of oxygen. Though none could be found.
This wasn’t going to work, there was no way Trixie was going to get out at this rate.
The hooded figure glanced around the room, looking for anything that could help. She then noticed the support beams and the coarse wood that they were made out of.
“Trixie,” the hooded figure hissed, “try using the support beams!”
Trixie looked towards one and frantically nodded, flopping onto her side and shimmying towards it, using her otherwise useless hands to drag herself across the floor. Her motions were clumsy as she fumbled her way over.
The hooded figure felt tears in her eyes as she felt the nature of Trixie’s heartbeat change. It was no longer strong but weakening, palpitating and sporadic.
Trixie made it towards one of the beams and began to rub her face against it, desperately trying to peel away the tape covering her nose. By now, there was no attempt to deal with the padlocks at her feet. This was her only hope.
The hooded figure’s vision blurred through tears she could not wipe away. She watched as her marefriend slowly succumbed to her condition, weakening with each passing second.
The pulse felt within the bondage joined it, slowing further and further until it was barely felt at all.
Trixie was feebly grinding her face against the beam, yet the tape would not tear, would not come off. It was too strong and was designed to hold up against such abuse.
She gave it one final attempt, pressing her face forcefully against the coarse wood. Yet, like all those before, this did not make any meaningful headway as the tape endured.
Then Trixie’s head dropped and she laid still. It took about another minute for her pulse to catch up to the reality of the situation before it too faded away, fading away to a grim nothingness.
The rope lingered for only a few very long seconds, then it melted away, giving the hooded figure freedom.
The mare rushed over, kneeling beside Trixie and tearing through the tape. No breath was taken as those blue lips were liberated. Trixie’s eyes were still open, stuck in a permanent state of utter horror.
The hooded figure screamed and immediately flipped Trixie over, planting her hands against Trixie’s chest and beginning her compressions. She pumped away, pressing her hot lips against her lover’s cold. She attempted CPR, or at least, the version of it she remembered from TV.
Yet, Trixie remained lifeless, dead.
And as the hooded figure continued to pound away, this was a condition that would not be remedied.
Author's Note
Sorry it's been so long, but writing commissions and Patreon stuff on my main has really taken it out of my snuff productivity.
Hopefully that'll change uwu.
