The Life and Times of a Terrible Pony
A biography and admission of guilt by Velour, son of Rarity, the element of Generosity and friend to the Crown

It is said that a good stallion is one who is kind to all ponies and creatures around him, who embodies things like Loyalty or Honesty or Kindness - a good stallion is a caring one.

I am not a good stallion.

I am Velour, owner of the Ruby Velour Company and Carousel Boutique and Velvet Rarity Boutique, top donator to the Princess’ School of Friendship, and the second richest stallion alive. And I am a Terrible pony.

I won’t bore you with some origin story. I wasn’t beaten as a foal, I was never kidnapped, I didn’t have some grand awakening - I simply like to see other ponies suffer. You won’t have known this, prior to reading this biography, because I am not stupid. I know very well how to play a part, to play nice, to make myself the most likable stallion in the room. And I do it very well, as I’m sure you’ll agree.

I make a lot of bits, I have a very large mansion, and yet I keep only three servants - a groundskeeper, a chef, and a maid. My house has twelve foot privacy fencing and every window is decorated with exquisitely beautiful black out curtains, which are secured in place to ensure no stray Pegasi could ever peek into my abode. I have no basement, no extra rooms, no suspicious doors or hidden passageways that would make any of my many guests concerned or curious - I read like an open book. I am just written in a language that they do not know.

Under my facade is a rich, secret personal life - one which, if you are reading this, is about to either become my legacy post mortem, or be wrenched cruelly from me by imprisonment, should this tome have gotten out early.

I am a deviant. A hedonist. A libertine, if you will, though that term has gone all but forgotten since the public execution of Pony de Sade some thousand odd years ago.

The point is, I get pleasure from things that other ponies find disgusting. Pleasure is all I truly care about. I’ve tried the generosity and kindness thing - it’s bland, and boring. I’ve tried the BDSM lifestyle, being a normal kinky stallion that takes pleasure at others pain but never at their expense. I even attended the most high class of kink parties, ones my mother used to frequent, or so I’ve been told. But it was...unsatisfying.

I raped somepony for my first time the night after one such kink party. Her name was Silver Seashell - though I’m sure that part will be omitted from the release, I want to fantasize that she’ll be questioned about this and forced to relive her worst night ever. I’m sure she already has, a million times over, given how often my face is on magazines and billboards.

Silver Seashell is a submissive bitch of a mare, who likes to be tied up and called names. Well, liked. I’m quite sure she’s not able to enjoy it anymore. She had taken quite a liking to me during the party, and I saw opportunity in her star-struck eyes. I asked if she would be my date for the night, and accompany me to my home.

We’d hardly made it halfway there though when I pushed her face into the dirt and fucked her in an alleyway.

I was far more stupid then, as colts often are - I was an adult of course but young and foolish still, hardly the refined and graceful stallion I am today. I was overcome by my desire and I though to myself, Well, Velour, you simply MUST have her. And so I mounted her, and shouted her down, and I had her, right there in that filthy alleyway. I’d never fucked in the dirt before, or so close to a pile of trash, but I found it excites me. She was into it at first, though consenting would be a bit of a stretch given that I didn’t ask. But she moaned and became aroused as I fucked her, hard and rough, and held her cheek in the mud with one hoof. But when I bit her, she called red, and I didn’t stop. And she said it again, louder, and I pressed my hoof into her throat.

“If you scream, I’ll kill you. And they’ll find your body in the trash, where it belongs, and they’ll never even start to think that maybe I had been the one to do it, because I am simply better than you. No pony would find my fucking you to be even remotely believable, that’s how disgusting you are.”

She sobbed the entire time I fucked her, but she never screamed. I appreciate that, which is why I left her with only her mental scars, and no real physical damage aside from a slightly torn pussy. I came on the fresh pile, telling her it was more deserving of my seed than she was. She was still crying when I walked away.

I haven’t seen her since - but I know she’s seen me. I went a private eye after her, recently, just to make sure the poor sod hadn’t offer herself already, and she’s still running that pathetic jewelry shop at the beach. Single, of course.
I doubt she’s had sex since me.

I was a good boy, after that, for a while at least. I fell so deep into my facade that I would almost call it a genuine second personality - I certainly felt like I cared for my mother and my aunt, during that time. Can’t be sure though.

That’s for another time though. I don’t want my opener to bore you with too many details of the past.

Suffice to say, three months later, I was hungry for more, starving even. And I took a wayward Pegasus into my home. She would eventually become the mother of my second foal - but only after I’d broken her. The story of he breaking, and where you’ll find my daughters, you’ll find later on. I have to keep you prides reading somehow, don’t I? And I feel the promise of saving young ones and mind-broken slaves is about all that will do that. I’m speaking to you, of course, Twilight. Oh, I’m sorry, Princess Twilight Sparkle. If this is for my arrest I must be courteous to my betters, those who have captured me. If this is post death, well. Know that I don’t think so highly of you. That you never managed to catch me...my, what horrors have I done?

I suppose you’ll learn soon enough.

Signed, Velour.
End Entry the First.

Author's Note

Hey y’all it’s ya boy, Playbrony, back at it with the rape and murder.

Okay but seriously, first real try at an OC story. Inspired of course by the works of De Sade, and 120 Days of Blueblood by Bronystories. Check that shit out for me, please.

Constructive criticism welcome on all but the fact that I’m choosing to write about pony rape, cause that’ll never change.