Punished for Her Pleasure

by AmethystMare

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Fluttershy, Original Character, Porn, Fetish, Non-consensual
Length: 25915

Mistress Shy punishes her pony-pet for her pleasure...

Mistress Shy decides to see how far she can push her pony-pet, filling him with aphrodisiacs and flaunting her assets to him so that he simply can't escape her feminine charm...

Only, she hasn't told him he's permitted, the punishments rolling out, trapping Arctic in a never ending cycle!

Tags: M/F, femdom, domination/submission, pegasus pony non-anthro form, oral, anal, vaginal, hyper cock/balls/cum, extreme teasing/arousal, public, humiliation, whipping, spanking, watersports, marking, bondage, BDSM, plot twist, waste, filth, scat, extreme, piss, gas, erotica, commission.

Published 2021-05-22 09:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-08-29 07:09:36 UTC

Part One

Author's Note

Mistress Shy decides to see how far she can push her pony-pet, filling him with aphrodisiacs and flaunting her assets to him so that he simply can't escape her feminine charm...

Only, she hasn't told him he's permitted, the punishments rolling out, trapping Arctic in a never ending cycle!

Please note that this is a commission written to specification for a client.

As always, I am open for commissions starting at 30 GBP per 1,000 words - please e-mail arianmabe[at]gmail.com for more information or see my profile!

Story © Amethyst Mare / Arian Mabe
Characters © respective owner

Part One

Punished for Her Pleasure
Part One

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by anonymous

Arctic smiled, sitting on his small cushion beside Fluttershy’s breakfast table, perfectly content as always. He was never allowed to sit at the table with her, of course, as that was a space only for his mistress and his mistress alone, but he was more than happy to be near her, serving her breakfast, ensuring that her tea was topped up at all times.

“More pancakes with your breakfast, mistress Shy?”

She smiled at him.

“Yes, pet, that would be lovely.”

Angel, her pet white rabbit hopped about merrily, as in as good a mood as ever – which was, to say, that he was never in a good mood at all with a perpetually annoyed expression. He waved a paw at Arctic and, though it stung to obey the bunny too, he obliged by adding a little more carrot tea to the rabbit’s tiny cup. It was his favourite and it told the tale of how long Arctic, the pegasus, had been the pony-pet of Fluttershy, considering how well he knew the rabbit’s personal tastes too.

The pegasus’ coat was light in shade, for once lacking in dirt from the exploits and desires of his mistress, his mane and tail falling down in a spill of dark blue hairs, perfectly combed out. His wings were teased and preened with every feather in the right place, though it was his mistress’ wings that he had spent hours doting on the night before, spreading each feather carefully to nuzzle and preen with his lips as well as his hooves. Her yellow coat glowed with good health, her mane and tail pink, though her tail had grown out so much that he didn’t need to fix her tail extensions every month anymore – all under his good care of her, of course. Arctic didn’t like to brag though.

The pegasus mare smiled again as he fussed around her, sitting down to his own breakfast only when he was satisfied that she was taken care of. The muscles in his face softened, no touch of tension there, though his tail was flicked carefully to the side so that he didn’t sit on it. In her home, he still knew better to not conceal any part of himself and his body from his mistress.

He was getting good. Too good. Fluttershy frowned. That could be boring.

She’d just have to spice things up a notch, in that case, just to keep things more interesting for her.

It started slowly, of course, with her flicking her tail a little too high when leaving the breakfast table.

“Clean this up, pet.”

Arctic gulped. He knew that he was supposed to be focusing but that flick of her tail had sent a waft of her sweet marehood floating towards him, though it dissipated through the air between them too swiftly for his liking. A flash of her folds, uncouth for a pony mare like her, glistened on show, but he still wasn’t sure that he had seen what he had seen. It would not be unheard of for his mistress to be aroused so early in the day, of course, though it was hard to justify any exact reason why.

He brushed it off. The view had been nice but anything more than that he had to have been his imagination.

Still, Fluttershy was relentless. She directed him to take his supplements mid-morning, the ones that helped keep his natural abilities to replenish the seed in his nuts more swiftly than any other pony in tip-top shape, but he did not know that there was something else in the mix. A little aphrodisiac here and there did no harm but the stallion did not understand at all why his gut was tingling, aching and throbbing back in his hind end so swiftly after taking his supplement.

“Um... Mistress?”

Fluttershy put on a frown, though even she had trouble hiding the amusement dancing in her eyes.

“No, not now, pet. I’m busy.”

She was not busy, not really, not anything that she could not put down. Brushing a new feline was always a tricky thing but the gorgeous little kitty was purring and rubbing against her so softly that she doubted she was going to be a problem at all. Soon enough, she’d have a new home for the tortoiseshell cat, but Arctic, yes... He was going to have to wait until she could give him her attention.

Yet, he could not. Or, rather, his body could not wait for her. Arctic fidgeted and whined, trying to look anywhere but at her as every scent outside in Fluttershy’s garden tugged at his nostrils. Still, not even freshly cut grass could possibly overpower the scent of mare, his sheath thickening and swelling as his shaft pushed within it, the tip showing lightly.

He didn’t want to think about it, not when he had not been ordered, but it was as if his mistress knew just what was going on, glancing over at just the right-wrong time with her eyes dropping to his plump sheath.

“Oh, pet... You can’t always have your cock out. Good pets know when to keep that hidden!”

Arctic whined. He was a good pet, wasn’t he? But his mistress was just as quick to punish as she was to reward when the mood so pleased her, adding another collar to his neck over the locking one with her cutie mark tag that never left his neck. That was a posture collar, uncomfortable to wear at best, something that kept his head up and in place, not even able to turn it back and forth.

“This will control where you’re looking, pet. Now everypony will know that you can’t keep your eyes straight unless you are controlled.”

Arctic’s cheeks burned with humiliation but there was still more to come, the game on, as Fluttershy went about her business, expecting him to keep pace with her and take on any and all chores she had for him. But he couldn’t help it, couldn’t help himself, grunting softly, trying to restrain himself, for he always seemed to be looking at his mistress, regardless of just where she placed him. Her under-tail begged his attention, those plump, ripe folds of her marehood, and he tried to avert his gaze even as she tapped him around the head with one feathered wing.

“Pet! Pay attention!”

Thus, he was forced to look at her, how her lips were parted, his mistress sitting in just the position so that her udders were on show. They were not generally large, except when she had taken something or used magic from her friends to allow lactation, but they were thick and full, his eyes unable to help locking onto them.

“Not that kind of attention!”

It was still every last bit the kind of attention that she wanted, as much as she was toying with him, playing with him, breaking him down, slowly, so slowly. His cock pushed out a little more, though her tone never usually affected him that badly, fleshing out more and more as she teased and taunted him. After that second instance, she added a crupper under his tail, linking it to his collar and making it so that he could not pin his tail down again if he tried. It dug into his dock, the pegasus swallowing hard, trying to gulp down his shame to the best of his ability.

She didn’t care. All she cared about was seeing him struggle, giving him a glimpse of her udders again just to see his cock thicken again. She forced his head down into a pet bowl for lunch, not allowing him to eat off his small table even, though lunch was usually an affair that they would share as equals.

“If all you are going to act like is a pet, that is where you shall stay, pet.”

It was not even his usual food and Arctic whimpered, eating the mush of food without complaint. It pushed around his mouth, tingling there oddly on his tongue, his taste buds...feeling strange. Very strange. It looked like dog food, though he didn’t want to think of that, as long as it was all suitable for his vegetarian stomach. His mistress would never give him anything that would hurt him. Maybe things would be better after he had some more food in his belly.

The aphrodisiac in the food, however, went to work quickly, twisting and turning within his gut, absorbed quickly, Mistress Shy keeping a close eye on him. His cock beaded with pre-cum and the pegasus mare smiled softly. It was working and he hadn’t noticed a thing – well, not enough to stop him from shifting his weight and devouring the food obediently all the same.

He was a good pet really... But she didn’t have to be the one to tell him that, not ever.

Yet his shaft never seemed to retract fully, his mistress taking him out to the market on a leash as yet another punishment. She didn’t always take him out in public as obviously her pet but pretty much everypony in Ponyville knew what he was and who he was owned by. They didn’t mind, not considering that his consent had been clearly put, though that did not make it any less humiliating for him, with how he was displayed.

“He must have done something bad...”

“Oooh, maybe I should punish my husband like that next time!”

Arctic quailed, though there was something in those prying eyes that had him hardening again, his eyes fixed on his mistress, those perfect flanks. She looked like she was posing for him but that could not be so, the curve of her hindquarters drawing his eye.

His cock thickened, pushing out more than before, nearly all the way hard.

“Getting hard in public now, pet?”

Her steely tone cut through him and he whimpered as she forced a set of metal hobbles around his hind legs, tucked between his fetlocks with a short length of chain. It was not quite as restrictive as a spreader bar but kept him slow and shuffling where she could see him, his shaft, tenaciously, refusing to soften.

She had him sample a drink behind a tent, scowling and shaking her head.

“This will calm you, pet. I must ensure you do not embarrass me in future.”

Of course, that was the exact opposite of what she was going for as, on ingestion of the potion, his cock hardened to his full length, thick and throbbing. It could not be hidden, not out there in public, desperate and groaning, his tongue pushing out as he panted like a dog. He could not even stop his tail from lifting as Fluttershy gasped in shock (mock shock, though he didn’t know that) and stalked off with her head held high to find a suitable tool with which to discipline him.

Whipping him in semi-public was not her usual style but a walking stick formed out of a cane, was a suitable enough implement for her to punish him without breaking a sweat. Yet the potion that she had given him had his hide prickling and tingling, every strike of that cane over his rump and the backs of his legs making him jump and jolt, sent straight to his nuts. It was not even pain as he moaned out loud, little more than lust on legs, his cock hard and throbbing, though not quite yet drooling pre-cum.

His mistress was furious, leaving long, red welts on his hind end. They were not enough, no, not enough, as she swore to Celestia that she’d see him walk home like a colt-whore if he could not keep himself under control, locking a cock ring onto him. With that band in place, locked around the neck of his sack too to keep it in place, he couldn’t even soften if he wanted to, panting wildly, his eyes wide as if he could not close them either.

No... No, he wanted to obey her, wanted to be a good pet, but he just couldn’t. His eyes wandered too much and he stumbled over his own hooves as he fought to keep up with her, other ponies more in the know than him pointing and giggling at his situation. Yet every bit of it was his fetish, his inclination, why he had submitted and given in to his mistress in the first place. It made him harder than ever and his cock jerked and slapped up against his stomach as he was paraded all the way home, his mistress adding something more when she thought that he was not trying to do what he was there to do at any point.

“Keep up.”

A pair of blinkers, narrowing his range of vision.

“No drooling.”

From his cock and his lips, of course. That warranted another set of hobbles around his front hooves, not just the hind.

“No thrusting.”

He was horny, relentless, mindless even though he kept right on putting one hoof in front of the other. That was the most humiliating of all, a butt plug shoved up under his tail as he passed the Ponyville post office, others gasping and laughing, pointing out just how easily his tight tail hole flexed open to accept the toy. He took it so easily that no one could have denied that he was her pony-pet, a submissive colt who was only there to please his mistress and his mistress alone. There was nothing else that he could possibly have a use for, after all, not when his mistress dominated every aspect of his life and more.

The afternoon and evening... They were not any better than how the morning had begun. As much as he tried to concentrate, back in the relative privacy of her cottage and gardens, he could not. He spilt seed when going out to feed the birds and she pinned him down, grinding on his muzzle, forcing him to wear her essence. The mixed juices and sexual fluids had soaked into his coat, making it matted and sticky, never fully drying as much as he wanted it to, the smell cloying and yet something that a part of him wanted too.

His work too, as she put him to work, made him slick with sweat, not allowing anything to run off him, hopelessly matted and used, his tail hanging from the point of his dock, which was pushed up high. Strands of hair clung to the strong yet velvety part of his tail-dock and even his tail-star was marked with a mare’s juices, Fluttershy’s arousal clinging to him, a sensation that he could not forget in any way.

Not that she would let that happen, of course.

Yet Fluttershy would not deny that her arousal too had grown through watching him grow more and more aroused, stumbling over himself to please her when there was nothing else he could do but to fail. She’d set him up well and she panted open-mouthed, sunshine glancing off her smiling lips, pinning him down and back into the ground as she humped and rode his muzzle to her ultimate delight.

“Please me, pet... But you better not be getting any pleasure from this! This is for your mistress, not you!”

How could he not be hard and ready when his muzzle was buried under her tail, taking in her sweet, honey essence? Arctic’s head swirled and pounded but he could not say, could not move, on his back out in the garden where, truthfully, anyone could have walked by at any time and he would have been powerless to stop them from seeing. Did all Ponyville know about his debasement by then? Oh, he didn’t want to consider it, grunting and groaning slurping up into the deliciously wet folds of her succulent sex, which twitched and pulled around his muzzle.

His mistress knew just how to demand more without saying anything at all and there was a big part of him that lusted for that too, his cock throbbing, his mistress mocking him, poking at it with a look of complete and utter disgust on her face.

“Honestly, pet... This really will not do. You have me sounding like Rarity here and all because you have not pleased me!”

Arctic shuddered. How could he do such a thing as to not please her? All he wanted to be, all that he wanted to do, was to be her good pet pony, her slave-pony, everything that his mistress could have wanted him to be and more. He whimpered into her sex, his head foggier and foggier with lust, though pleasing her cunny was a self-fulfilling prophecy for there was no way that he could not become aroused with her juices sliding over his muzzle, so slick and so delicious. He could have spent all day down there under her if he had ever been allowed, though it helped a little when his nose was shoved up into the musk of her dock and the pucker of her tail hole.

It seemed like entirely the wrong place to be doing such a dirty deed, Fluttershy’s head thrown back as she moaned and bore down on his tongue, forcing him to rim her, to eat out her pony doughnut in the dirtiest and most carnal of ways. It excited him but differently, turning Arctic’s stomach into knots, the pegasus stallion sprawled flat on the ground, weak under the power of her.

“That’s it...pet... All of this, all the time. You need to learn how to be a good boy again, don’t you?”

Yes, yes, yes... He thought dimly. Yes, he would be a good pony for her, the best piss-pony slut, anything at all that his mistress wanted him to be. It almost didn’t matter what he did for her, cock throbbing and aching, thick pre-cum still drooling even if she was set on taking her pleasure from him at that moment, only that he was there for her, to serve her. His tongue wormed into her tail hole and teased deliciously up against the sensitive flesh inside, Arctic inhaling her light musk, the noticeably light sweat around her hindquarters, her dock, even the insides of her legs. After a day, a pony could not help but be a little sweaty if they did anything more than sit around all day daintily sipping tea (that was more Rarity’s scene than Fluttershy’s, as busy as Rarity was with her multiple businesses). He didn’t mind that. He didn’t mind it one bit when it meant that he could spend even more time with his mistress, moaning into her backside, slurping away, serving her in any way that she pleased.

It was a distraction but not quite the right kind of one, his tail hole feeling tight as if there was something stuffed in there, aggravating his old scars. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he think straight anymore? Some things no longer made sense as Mistress Shy rolled her hips down against his muzzle, grinding on him, forcing him to sway between rimming her and eating out her cunny, tongue wriggling wherever it was bid to go. It was not for him to say what his mistress did to him, after all, only to serve her time after time again.

“Be better, pet... Or else there will be punishments.”

She squealed, climaxing on his muzzle, her hooves bearing down into the grass as she half-bucked and forced herself down on him again and again, only intent and caring for her pleasure. Of course, that was the way of a mistress, coating his muzzle in her fluids, the slickness of them lingering as his beautifully light and yielding coat was stained.

“Don’t lick it off, pet. I’d be very disappointed, even more so, if you did.”

Arctic shuddered.

“Yes, Mistress Shy. Anything for you, Mistress Shy.”

His cock throbbed, agreeing and disagreeing at the same time.

Still, wearing her juices was both punishment and another nuance that pushed him on to further heights of arousal. How could he ever have been expected to control himself when her scent so warmly enveloped him? Arctic groaned out loud and shook his head, though he knew better than to tell his mistress that that was something that he could not do, he could not behave. He wanted so badly to be good for her, behaving for her, though every tiny indiscretion was met with a punishment that he simply could not hold in.

He could barely get to her to serve dinner, but he was unsatisfactory, of course. There was no way that he could carry a tray of food without scattering it everywhere, whimpering and whining, cowering on the carpet to the extent that his hobbled hooves allowed him to. None of the bondage had come off, not so far, as she towered over him, her wrath building, an angel of death and doom as she scowled darkly. The look did not suit her sweet muzzle, even though he had seen just how fearsome she could look in the midst of a beating or worse.

“Pet... This time you have gone too far!”

No dinner for him, except more of a drink that she said was enough to sustain him. All it seemed to do for Arctic, however, was worsen his state, panting heavily by her side as she prepared her own meal, the pony-pet stuffed with a vibrating butt plug that kept him on the edge constantly. He gulped it down, behaving as he knew she wanted him to, though he had to chug the fluid to keep himself from spilling it. Still, a few drops marked his muzzle, automatically scooped up by his tongue. He didn’t realise that his mistress was watching his every move in his sexual distress.

Mistress Shy cast him a glance out of the corner of her eye, pretending not to notice his predicament, how he twisted and wriggled and squirmed on the wooden floorboards of the cottage, not even allowed to sit on a rug. That would have been too kind to him, yes, when she was trying to push his limits, push him beyond anything that she might have thought possible for him before. The potion she’d added to his drink that was his dinner would supply him all the nutrients needed, of course, but it contained a more potent aphrodisiac still that was tangled up in the need to be stimulated. In effect, the stimulation from his butt plug and the cock ring combined forced the aphrodisiac to double in potency, setting his skin tingling, burning, need rising tenfold.

But he had to be a good pony, he had to have restraint. He had to do what his mistress wanted of him.

Arctic licked his lips, the drink having left an oddly gritty feel on them. Was that something that he normally had? Gasping and panting, he could barely keep himself quietly under control, grinding down into the floor just to get a drop extra sensation from the butt plug, with whirred and rattled down into the floorboards as it buzzed and buzzed and buzzed. Arctic grunted, cock forcing out pre-cum despite his predicament, everything that she did to him designed to burn through the restraint of his mind in commanding his body.

“Ohhh... Mmmph... Sorry, Mistress.”

Her eyes snapped onto him, a scowl on her lips. He would have quailed if his body had not already been locked in position, eyes strained and wide, desperation lining the tension of his muscles.

“Saying “sorry” isn’t good enough pet!”

He’d have no relief, not that night, her dominant cruelty stretching to peaks that he had not thought she would ever go to, though merely the act of thinking was more and more difficult for the stallion. His cock was kept in such a state that he could neither soften nor ejaculate, the cock ring putting pressure on just the right spot to stop him from getting off, trapping blood all where it was needed, in his dick, the band around his balls proved to be not simply to keep it in place but able to be tightened too, almost like a humbler, though it could be adjusted in or out, putting his hugely swollen nuts on full display. Not that they were easy to hide as they normally were, bigger than those of any normal stallion, grossly overloaded at all times. It was the best state in which Mistress Shy liked to keep him.

That night, as punishment, he was forced to sleep in a cage, not at the foot of her bed. It was not where he belonged, not where he wanted to be as her adoring pony-pet, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. He couldn’t remember what he’d done to warrant that punishment, everything blurring into one, though he thought that it might have been because he had been so lust-stricken that he had not even been able to lap and please her adequately. Or had he not drunk her piss correctly like a good piss-pony? Had it been applying her hoof-polish? Drawing her bath?

It was impossible to know.

Continued in part two…

Part Two

Punished for Her Pleasure
Part Two

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by anonymous

Continued from part one…

The next day did not dawn any better for him, grinding and humping, thrusting his cock out against the bars of his cage, regardless of how restrictive his imprisonment in there was. As much as Arctic wanted to shove his cock all the way through the bars, it was simply too big for that, bowing up against the metal as he whimpered and whined, barely able to get words out through the sheer, raw depth of his need.

“P-p-please...” He stuttered, tongue dry and stuck to the roof of his mouth, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. “I need... Need to... Mistress...”

It could not be denied, not even then, but Mistress Shy faked shock and disgust, holding her hoof over her lips so that he would not see her amusement at his predicament. Just how far could she push him? He was so far gone right then and there that she doubted he would even notice any more obvious ploys at forcing him into punishment. There was, however, only one way to find out on that count.

She dragged him out and re-set his bondage for the day, a hood covering his head for the morning. Of course, he still had to go about his chores with a fat, stallion-cock shaped dildo rammed up under his tail, aggravating the old scar with how it had been forced in with barely any lube. She wasn’t trying to hurt him, not that time, only humiliate him, break him down, see just how far she could push him before he... Well, Mistress Shy didn’t really know what happened at the end of it all, but she was most certainly keen to find out. A pony like her didn’t carry on through the soft and simple day to day without a little excitement to keep her on her hooves!

The hood was only the start of it as he stumbled around, managing to work his way through breakfast, though he was not permitted any himself. She fed him through a tube, letting the nutrients flow straight into his belly along with another hefty dose of aphrodisiac. It was too much for him, to be fair, his cock hard and wanton, not even slipping back into his sheath for the day. The blindfold part of the hood was lowered so that he could not even see, hooked up to something in the living room, his hooves all locked apart, hinds with a spreader bar between them, fetlocks all shackled to the floor with thick, heavy O-rings. Chains linked them, shortly, to the manacles around each fetlock, ensuring he could not move an inch, clamping his fetlocks down. His back hooves had to be kept wider, far apart, for her access to his nuts and tail hole, the abuse he faced, lovingly and willingly, as her pet pony.

Arctic groaned, seeing nothing, his balls aching. So much... So needy... Would he ever feel like he had free thought ever aching with need coursing through in such a way?

“Quiet, pet... This will drain your need for the time being.”

Alas, Fluttershy had “made a terrible mistake”! She was not draining his balls to help him out, the heaving orbs rolling and sagging, his body producing too much seed with all the magical potions she’d fed him, all to see just how far a stallion’s arousal could be pushed. Not everything happened slowly, only a centimetre or so added to his nuts from the first failed climax, Arctic humping and grinding, whimpering helplessly. Something was wrong, something was very wrong, but he was hopelessly bound, her little slut there to do with as she willed.

Another failed climax, his nuts aching, another few centimetres plumping them up, his sack sagging more and more heavily. She massaged his nuts with a hoof when she came back to check on him, admiring his quick progress.

“You’re doing so well, pet...”

In a way, he was. He had already borne through more than she had thought he could, which was impressive in itself. Fluttershy even took a moment to refresh him with a drink but, of course, that was laced with a sweet-tasting potent aphrodisiac too, though it was so sweet that he gulped it all down without thinking, murmuring his thanks for the refreshing drink. Wasn’t it kind of her to offer that to him? Yes, yes... His mistress good to him, a squealing gasp heralding the rise of another failed orgasm, his balls throbbing, aching, swelling another five centimetres, though he could not see how big they were. Not yet heavy enough to brush the carpet, that would come in time but that would by no means be the extent of his growth that day.

They grew with every hour that passed, large enough to scrape on the ground as he walked, yet Arctic was well enough used to moving with them, even if the brush was still too much for him even then. The stallion snorted and rolled his eyes, but he had nothing to escape from, his nuts as large as beach balls, though it was harder for Mistress Shy to judge the size as they started to squash out to the sides of his body. The pump of cum within them, swirling and pounding... Arctic’s eyes rolled, unseeing, darkness closing in around him through the mask. It was too much, everything was too much.

Still, they bloated out, squashing beyond his body, his underbelly squeezing down against him, even them feeling as if they were trapped and pinned in place, the surrounding area too small, so small. Were they going to blow up as they did when he was truly inflated too? Fear stirred in his heart, but it was hard to even worry about that as broken pleasure mingled with strain, pressure closing in on him from all sides, a cloying, clawing embrace that could not be mistaken for anything else.

Desire. It was potent, more so than anything, but Mistress Shy was crooning to him even as he whimpered, tried to tell her of his predicament, tipping his head back for another drink that made his mouth tingle and his grasp on reality fuzzier than ever.

He had not realised what she had been doing to him in their living area, the machine locked around his cock not even noticeable, pumping away. All that Arctic could focus on was the aching need, how his cock tried to twitch and flex, tried to bounce up against his own stomach. There was nothing that his body could do to hold back, wanting more, craving it, grunting thickly, losing all sense of himself in a moment that was not his own.

It had been meant to milk his balls without allowing him true orgasm...but all it did was make him needier and needier, his nuts aching, churning, hips rocking even as he shakily tried to cling onto the moment, to keep his sanity. Fluttershy had had him dressed in a full latex suit and a hood that allowed him to see, at least, though his cock was still out and there was no simple suit that would both allow him to move and keep his heaving, swollen nuts contained. That was something that would simply have to come at another time.

The pulse of it, oh... Oh, he leaned into it, unable to see, turning his head lightly back and forth, craving something, everything, something. He needed a moment for himself but there was no way to take anything at all back for himself, not then, not ever again. He tried to thrust, his hind hoof stomping, but he did not feel he could even lash or flick his tail with how high it was pulled.

Things should have been easier there, at least a little, the draining relieving...but it was not. It could not be with how his mistress had set it up, Arctic whimpering and running his tongue around his mouth helplessly, unable to open it with the securing latex hood, thrusting, grinding. More... Maybe he’d get a little more sensation if only he tried a little more, thrusting a little harder? He could hope but, oh, his hopes had been so very hopeless of late. Maybe it was better to give in, to forget, to sink, to be the submissive little slut that his mistress in charge wanted him to be.

He shook himself in his bondage, panting and heaving, his sides rolling out through the latex suit, though that was by means of his breath alone. It was so tight, so restrictive, not even able to move his hooves. He didn’t know the full extent of his bondage with the hood limiting his vision, allowing him to see only a small sliver, and, somehow, that was more erotic than even knowing everything that was happening. His mistress could steal away his vision by covering the small vision-holes too, which were like looking through a faded screen, muddying and distorting his kinky world further. Sight could be taken from him as she pleased, always as she pleased. Fear tickled at him, a cold chill nipping at his spine, yet the pony was in no position to push back against her, head swirling, need spinning.

His cock ached, a fake orgasm rolling through him, though he did not feel the pleasure, only the sensation of his cum moving down his cum-tube and then back again, backing up into his swollen, grotesquely overfilled nuts, telling him what was happening. It was not orgasm and neither was it a true milking but a reverse one of sorts, the sort of one that made him whimper and moan and rock his hips.

Oh, how he wanted that release, the scent of her thick in his nose, taking in heady breath after breath in stallion-like, puffing snorts that wouldn’t truly get him anywhere. Just what did Arctic think would help him in that case? He had to try to bear through, try not to think of how his nuts churned, able to feel the cum weighing them down, forcing his sack to stretch to accommodate them as they inflated with the sheer volume of cum forced back into them.

It was too much but still not enough, not enough in any way as he whimpered and stomped, head spinning while he was trapped in place. The hood kept him silent, blindfolded, but he didn’t even know if he was alone there. Would it have been better if Mistress Shy had been watching him? There was no way for Arctic to say.

Regardless of everything, he could still taste her and smell her on his muzzle, the fog of lust growing ever-thicker as the hood slipped off, revealing bright daylight – or at least the kind of light that was cast into the living room.

He swayed, breathing heavily, eyes unfocused. The scent of her confused his senses, making his milking even worse as Mistress Shy frowned at the “full” containers, though there was not really semen in them, only to Arctic’s eye. He gulped and panted but his mistress had freed his head from the hood for a reason, taking advantage of him, using and abusing in the best of ways or the worst of ways, depending on how one looked at it.

He blinked at the containers, not understanding. But he’d felt his cum going back into his nuts, not coming…out... What did that mean? None of it made sense, not as his stomach gurgled, every part of his body aching, his balls churning, wanting to spend a load that simply never seemed destined to come out again. Nothing matched up as he was forced to see the containers, his mistress swapping them out for another and yanking his head around so that he couldn’t see what she’d hooked up. He didn’t need to see the empty containers not filling, after all, furthering distorting his perception of reality.

“Here, pet...”

She giggled deviously and Arctic flinched from the sound. That was not a good sound, not the kind of sound that promised good things for him, only good things for his mistress. But that was a good thing as the machine pulsed and flexed around his cock, drawing it deep, massaging the length, Mistress shy rearing up onto her hind legs to expose her udders to him. There was only one thing he could do, belly aching, guts churning, his balls swelling and swelling... Yet he knew that it would only make things all the worse to lock his lips around her teats, one at a time.

“Mmph, yes, better, pet... Maybe there’s hope for you yet. Think of me, only me, not your needs. Those don’t matter anymore.”

Yes... Yes, she was right. He could not resist the cream of her milk flooding into his muzzle, his world narrowing back to her, even though there was no longer either a hood or her favoured pair of blinkers to obscure his sight. He just saw her, knew her, wanted her. There was nothing else in the world for him, her milk flowing down his throat, pooling in his stomach. It was so sweet, so very sweet, so creamy, taking him away from reality, though the throbbing pulse and tug of the milking machine could not be denied.

It claimed him, took everything that he could have thought was still his own as a pony-pet from him. The throb and the pull of it over his cock, the flesh rippling. Dimly, he wondered just how it would look, the machine pulsing around him, how his flesh tugged, the head of his cock flaring. Would it be constantly flared or soften between “loads” that took from him? Well, that would be the case if the cum there was actually flowing from his dick but, well, he knew just where that was going, even if nothing about it made sense.

Was his mistress...toying with him?

Grunting, Arctic shook his head, her teats pulled from his lips as she surveyed him through the milk dribbling from the corners of his hips, hopelessly hers. His bondage, what locked him down to the ground only, fell away.

What was she planning?

“Come now.”

What had he done to deserve that? He tried to say something as she ushered him out into the garden, a crop cradled in the crook between her hoof and her fetlock, but Fluttershy did not allow him to stop or speak. A gag would take care of that.

“Pet...”

Her eyes narrowed and Arctic blinked, pulling back ever so slightly. What was wrong? Had he been staring again? Despite everything he was locked into, the band around his cock forcing him to remain hard, there was still a drop of pre-cum drooling lustfully from the head of his cock, begging for attention even then. There was no blindfold and her garden stretched out before him – then the gate and beyond, onto the path that led into the heart of the village.

“Unnff!”

He started and grunted, fighting it. He didn’t know, could not go that far – but Arctic was not under his own control.

“Pet. Turn back to the path.”

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He had no will to obey.

Thus, she would make him. Forcing him down, she pinned his head to the path and squatted over him, the hood peeled back. If he’d thought it would be difficult to walk out and about with her juices marking his muzzle again, her piss was another matter as she let out a sigh of relief.

“That’s better... Maybe this will put you in line, pet.”

Of course, she knew that it wouldn’t. It would have been boring for her if it had as she let him reek of her piss, splattering it all over his head, letting it soak into his mane, his forelock. Fluttershy even flexed her hocks more to lower her hind end even more, smearing the slicker juices from her pussy all over his muzzle, grinding in her urine so that he would have to scrub and scrub to get the most carnal of her scents out.

“Take it all in, pet... You little slut-pony, this is where you belong. This is what bad pets get. And you’re a bad pet for displeasing me.”

No... No, that could not be. He couldn’t be bad, she just turned him on so much, his cock throbbing, aching, twitching and jerking back and forth, the veins lining it bulging where he had never honestly noticed them before. Even the medial ring seemed fatter as she smeared her piss into him, grinding her cunt down over his muzzle, his ears, soaking his forelock and his mane. No drop went to waste as it trickled down his muzzle, even into the curves of his nostrils, used and abused.

Yet it was not to end just yet.

“A little spell too, pet.”

Fluttershy grinned, releasing the stopper on a potion bottle that allowed the gaseous magic to float free, sparking off, Arctic’s skin tingling under the latex suit. It felt wrong but she doused the rest of his body in her urine, her bladder evidently magically full, the suit gleaming and then...

Wetness. Arctic shuddered. He felt wet where there should have been no wetness to be had, the suit tight and restricting and still more clinging than it even had been before. With his mistress’ giggle, he jolted in shock, realising just how the magic had allowed her piss to “soak” through the latex, allowing fluids in but not out. A one-way system designed to humiliate and soak him in her reeking, strongly scented urine for hours upon hours on end.

“You don’t deserve to go out without everypony here knowing what a piss-pony you are, pet. But isn’t this how you want to be? You disobeyed me, after all, so you must want punishing so very severely...”

He didn’t know about that, only feeling the hot gush of urine splattering over him, soaking in, matting up his coat so that it filled out the suit. Some pooled around his crotch, swilling around his latex-covered nuts as he lay on his back, though his cock got a dose straight from her urethra, her back end pressed down to his shaft, grinding over it, making him all the needier. Even without the cock ring in place, he would have been so hard and desperate for her, the smear of her piss and sexual fluids too much for even him to bear.

The aroma of it all combined even as the suit bloated a little and pooled in all the wrong places, his head falling back, only there for her, always for her. She could use him however she liked, his tail soaked and clinging where it had been encased too, though no one cared for the comfort of a piss-pony like him, punished, disobedient, needing that punishment.

He had to show her how sorry he was for disobeying her.

He licked his lips, whimpering and whining, even then trying to drink down her piss. It came with a bitter, acrid taste that lingered and clung to the back of his mouth, but it may as well have been the nectar of the gods to a pony in his current state. Arctic grunted and nickered but Fluttershy had no more “punishment” for him and his swollen balls, jerking her head to direct him up again as if there was nothing else for him there.

“Up. Pet. Now.”

It did not bloat out his suit as he stood on shaky legs, but soaked deeply into him, marking him, though he could not speak for just how the potion worked. He didn’t have the sense of mind to even wonder as his head hung, breathing in the scent of piss over and over again. It squelched into his fur as the suit clung uncomfortably to him, feeling as if it was sliding over his piss-soaked coat even while he moved. It saturated his coat perfectly, displaced as he shifted his weight, though he felt it most strongly around the base of his sheath, cock and around his nuts, the squishing sensation sending a shiver down his spine.

“There will be more punishments if you do not please me, pet. You have an order for the animals to carry home for me. So, do try to be pleasing.”

Thus, before the eyes of everypony in the town, he was forced to walk slowly, so very slowly, through Ponyville there and home again, a pile of supplies on his back, stacked up in crates. His cock was on show and he knew that was wrong – but it was wrong because his mistress had put it there? That didn’t make sense, the pony’s mind foggy with lust, others whispering, pointing.

His suit clung wetly in the reek of piss to his body, his hood back in place, though it allowed him to see only so that he could walk, allowing his muzzle free too so that it could be used. Oh, he had no illusions about that. And everyone knew how far he had fallen, his complete humiliation sinking lower than he had ever thought was possible.

“If you let even a single box fall, I will punish you again.”

He knew the consequences of his actions and yet he could not help himself. Arctic could not have explained it, lifting his wings in a desperate, vain attempt to balance the boxes on his back, but he felt empty without something under his tail. It was not a sensation that he wanted usually, only when his mistress deemed him fit to take a toy or her strap-on cock...but something in him had fallen so twisted that he could not help it.

Thus, he looked, he turned, only wanting to adore her with his eyes, panting with the hood over his face and leaving his muzzle and eyes open. It had the end effect, his boxes toppling to the ground as Fluttershy growled – a feral, rough sound that came up from deep in the back of her throat.

“That’s it! There’s no more of this now, no more!”

There was no softening of “pet” for him that time as he was dragged off into an outbuilding, some little shed and shack that perhaps had once been attached to some business. It was the perfect spot, however, for a beating, his mistress smacking him with the riding crop, laying into his balls even as she bore him down to the ground. His legs were not strong enough to keep his body up as he collapsed onto his own cock and balls, that sensation too much as his shaft spurted and drooled, the band tighter and tighter. It could not hold off forever.

Fluttershy took the one box that was hers out of all the ones that he had carried, revealing a thick length of silicone dildo. It was new, that much was certain, but she wasn’t about to help him along at all as she forced it up under his tail without any lube.

“This is what pets get when they disobey!”

He reeked of her piss, his forelock showing in the holes in the mask around his eyes. His tail-star throbbed with pain. Her juices were in his mouth, cloying under his tongue. His head spun. Was it pleasure or was it pain? Was there any way to tell anymore? There was no telling one feeling from another, coursing through, colliding into each other.

Every spurt of pre-cum from his aching shaft brought another restriction, something more to punish him. He had to drag himself home, practically, in a cart and harness: the only thing left that would carry all of the items that she suddenly needed, parading him all over town. There were blinkers but she yanked the reins attached to the bit gag in his mouth back and forth, sawing his head from side to side so that he was forced to look at every mare around.

“Don’t stare.”

Impossible. It couldn’t be done. She pressed a remote control, the dildo strapped up under his tail inflating every time she depressed the button. The mares... Oh, he couldn’t stop looking at them all! They were not any more beautiful than his mistress, but they were all dressed so provocatively, little skirts drawing attention to their hind ends, their thick, shapely legs.

He stared, he drooled, his cock throbbed. The button was pressed and pressed, forcing the toy stretching his anal passage to inflate and inflate. It was too big for him, much too big, but had no say in it, striving to break into a trot even as Lyra flirted and flicked her tail up for him.

“You can spare me a look, cutie...”

He groaned, the toy so big rammed up under his tail that it interfered with his motion, knees clunky, trying to jerk himself onward, homeward. Obeying his mistress was all that mattered as the sexy mares were paraded before him, smelling so sweet, his nostrils flaring, sucking in breath after needy breath, every last one ripe with their delicious aroma. It seemed to sift through the distance between them, flowing straight to his nostrils, though he did not see the spells that carried it there. He only felt the effect of her punishments, how he heaved, his cock throbbing, the band tightening. It even pulsed and sent tiny shocks through his dick, punishing him for every glance, every lingering look, pressure coming from all sides, straining and bulging, the skin around his nuts stretched practically to the point where they felt they were going to burst.

“Here, ladies... It seems that his new suit needs marking too. He deserves this.”

Arctic whimpered. What had he done that time? Fluttershy smacked his backside, eyes dancing.

“More punishment for more looks, pet... If you can’t control yourself, I shall control you.”

The mares lined up, though it was hard for him to recognise them. Pinkie Pie...yes...maybe...Nurse Redheart, Lyra again, Lightning Dust, even Rainbow Dash? He definitely caught her mane, but the mares all backed up to him, one by one, pissing on him, coating him with their urine, grinding back on him to make sure that every last drop of it went where it was best deserved.

“Filthy piss-pony whore.”

“Should have done better for your mistress.”

“You’ve disappointed her.”

“You reek!”

“Does my cunny make you horny?”

Arctic grunted, turning his head back and forth, standing still, his legs buckled. He pretty much rested on his huge cock and balls by that point, letting them support him where they would have otherwise been dragged around behind him. Nurse Redheart backed up to his nuts and made sure that she covered them completely in her piss, grinding on them, moaning out loud.

“Ohhhhh!”

She climaxed on them, forcing his arousal even higher, eyes rolling, not that anyone was paying attention to that part of him. No, they were more interested in the parts that they could abuse, laughing and mocking him, poking his nuts, squeezing and groping them.

“Look how big they’ve gotten... My, oh, my, he must have been such a disobedient pet!”

“You’re doing the right thing, Fluttershy. Bad pets need training.”

Was that Rarity? He recognised the tone but there were no gentle words to be had from the Fashionista as she shoved her pussy into his muzzle, forcing him to eat her out even as his tongue automatically wet to work. More jets of piss, as if they were forcing it out at greater pressure and volume, hit his sides, making him feel as if he didn’t know which direction it was coming from at any time, though he was aware, vaguely, that the earlier potion had worn off. It was no longer soaking through the suit but staining and marking the outside, a dose of humiliation that had him quaking where he cowered, balls pulsing.

Oh... Oh, they’d never ached that badly before. It was wrong how much he wanted it, trying to slurp into Rarity’s sex, though her folds pushing around his tongue felt strange, almost as if he was not present in the moment. His heartbeat seemed to throb at the same rate as his pulsing nuts, aching and itching, strange sensations colliding into one another.

His mind confused it even as Rarity climaxed on his muzzle, another mare taking her place, one with a cream back end and a blue and pink tail held high over his piss-soaked head. One changed over for another as he grunted, pushing on, hips rolling, rocking forward, driven without his command as if someone was controlling him with magic. Yet magic was no greater control than what his mistress held over him, watching him the whole time, ensuring that her pet was getting the public humiliation that he deserved.

“You shouldn’t stare at mares on the street!”

He didn’t know who that was, but they had a voice as sharp as a whip and a little raspy too as if there was a strike of lightning dashing through the air at the same time. She was familiar... But he did not care, could not care, her hot piss streaming down his nuts as he was pushed so hard against the mare in front of him that his nose practically disappeared into her sex. She moaned, appearing to like it, bucking and grinding on his muzzle to her ultimate orgasm, painting him with another dose of mare-juices while the others laughed and pointed.

The stream of piss running over his swollen nuts, however, was a marking of the lightning-like mare that had claimed him in another way, dominating him, putting him in his place. The piss streamed and streamed down his balls, making them gleam, shiny and lustful, though he knew that he was still where he belonged, as much as a pit of snakes curdled and twisted into one another in the tuck of his gut.

Was he where he belonged? Was he doing the right thing? Arctic wasn’t sure, his muzzle presented to a tail hole that he rimmed and plundered with his tongue, cheeks heating up. But no one cared about him, the pony-pet who was being punished, his mask making him appear even further distanced from their reality as he whimpered and groaned.

No whips, no pain, but that was not the point of it. It was the strain in his growing balls, practically swelling more and more with every passing minute, with every splatter of piss that marked his nuts, his fat cock. Every failed orgasm backed up and up, even pushing his legs a little off the ground as he wobbled helplessly, though he could still just about get his hooves under him to walk, if he had to. Whether or not he had to while his mistress was punishing him was another question.

Of course, that part of his punishment had all been set up the night before by Mistress Shy, tripping him up at every opportunity to make him so hard and horny that even his will to obey her was overcome by his rampant horniness.

It was a splash of hot piss and desire that he did not deserve. Even that urine was more arousing than humiliating, despite everything, a grunt and a groan in the back of his throat. He was supposed to hate it, to twist away from being a piss-pony, reeling in disgust, but his cock jerked and rolled forward in a thrust, the cart clattering to his back, even as they soaked his dick in piss, droplets running down the length, marking it, showing everyone who cared to look what a slut he was for them, for his mistress. His length ached for release but there was none to come, too much stimulation pouring over him as punishment came from all sides, his mistress controlling it all.

“Come now, pet.”

She didn’t know how far to go, toying with him as much as she enjoyed herself, directing the mares to do as they wanted to him and to do what she wanted to him too, though they could have refused. Everyone enjoyed using her favourite pony-pet too much, however, to say no, flagging their tails high and grinding back on him while his head hung, making sure that their sexes and tail-stars squashed down onto him as they ground, marking him with another saucy twist of their lewd scent, showing everyone else just how far he’d fallen. It would last for weeks, the mares lusting for him, abusing him, knowing that he was the pony-slave of any mare in town that Shy wanted to whore him out to.

But he had to go with her, had to go...with Mistress Shy. Every step home warranted a punishment. The mares left at some point, leaving him with just Fluttershy, but she forced his nose down into a bowl of mushy food as soon as they entered the cottage again. He barely remembered how he’d gotten there, how the harness had been unstrapped from him, despite going there himself, taking one step after the other, finding his way home with his mistress mocking him for being so easy to turn on, how his obedience had slipped.

Continued in part three…

Part Three

Punished for Her Pleasure
Part Three

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by anonymous

Continued from part two…

“Honestly, pet, I may just have to find another to show you just what comes of stallions that don’t do a good job... You’ve been failing, fading and slacking.”

The mushy food, not real food to him, was not enough to get his cock to soften, arousal rampant. Of course, it had contained the largest, most potent of all aphrodisiacs, though it was not as if he truly needed it right then! Even then, all Arctic could do was swing back around to her, desperate for something, anything, trying to mount, to hump and to grind. He needed it all desperately, a whimper on his lips.

“You stare. But you don’t know how to please your mistress.”

No more. No, he didn’t know how to even do that anymore. He wasn’t pleasing her and that warranted a punishment, something fitted to his cock, reverse milking him, giving him pleasure that only served to force his body to ejaculate – but straight back up into his nuts. It could not come out, of course, not with the cock ring in place, the one constant in his consensual abuse.

She pushed his limits, forcing her teats into his mouth and mocking him when his cock flexed and twitched.

“Can’t control yourself? Pathetic, pet... This is why I need to punish you. You only bring it on yourself.”

Maybe that was true, but the flow of her hormone-tainted and magic-infused milk only filled his belly in the most lustful of ways. His balls tingled and pulsed with every gulp of her milk, his throat working furiously to please her, only her, though it was not enough for him. He could do no more than what she told him, his world narrowing, forgetting even that anything else existed as his stomach bloated out and out and out and she growled at him for his fervent desire. She could do anything to him. His mistress owned him, dominated him, the pony grunting as his wings were bound, locked down, his muzzle stuffed with a cock-shaped dildo that rammed straight up into the back of his throat.

“This is just the start, piss-pony.”

He reeked of it, sure, but he was not just a piss-pony slut. It was what he needed as she covered him with her urine, working her way over his body, though ensuring that his cock faced the most of it. It was the most humiliating of all, even more so than taking her urine down his throat, being treated as a toilet, but he still did it for her. Yet everything aroused him, even that, her marehood winking at him even as she faced away from him, bending over to ready a whip.

She spanked him, the stallion swaying, too caught up in lust to even move. All he knew was his mistress, how hot she was, her flanks calling him, the strikes raining down and meaning nothing as she bent him over and gave him hell. His bath earlier had been no different, cock protruding above the bubbles as he lowered his head, eyes always on her, swivelling in their sockets while his cock leaked and leaked, pre-cum even then backing up into his nuts.

Arctic groaned. The bench was no longer under him, but he didn’t remember being dropped to the floor of the playroom. It didn’t matter, the scent of her marehood pouring over him, impossible to deny. He needed it, craved it, wanted her, only her, only Fluttershy...

His bondage creaked. She lashed him down with more and more bondage and yet the strikes of her whips and canes brought rises of heat to him like nothing ever before. He groaned deep in the back of his throat, wanting release, having eyes only for her, though she did not blindfold him. The reasoning for that would never come to light as his tongue pushed out against the cock-shaped ball gag, desperate for anything, humping and grinding, his balls backing up more and more.

He was cumming but not, his seed inflating his nuts, pushing up his backside, the ropes with which she had heavily lashed him down to tie-off points in the floor of her dungeon strained taut. There was too much bondage there but even that made him want to thrust through it, the aching power of his cock straining for release, balls bulging obscenely as if they were about to burst. And through it all there was his mistress, standing over him, dominating in a latex dominatrix outfit that left nothing to the imagination and set off his mind in terrible, wonderful directions both at the same time.

“What is it, colt?” She scowled. “Cock got your tongue? I’ll teach you to disobey...”

Alas, Fluttershy pushed it too far, far too far. She’d robbed the blood flow from his brain for too long, demoralising him to nothing more than a lust-crazed hunk of stallion, his balls aching, throbbing, even visibly pulsing with the raw, rampant desire behind them. She should never have expected her pet to retain some semblance of control over himself, drooling and slavering around the dildo-gag, the sounding rod crammed into his cock ensuring, even with the cock ring, that there was no way for him to either cum or relax.

The first rope snapped. And it was all downhill from there.

Fluttershy reeled in horror as her stallion’s wings flared up, giving more power and strength than she could have ever imagined, breaking free, tearing away, rope after rope pinging off. From fetlocks to the base of his wings, they tangled like the shroud of a monster, his eyes raging with lustful intent, already in motion.

She couldn’t react and Arctic crashed into her with a growl, twisting his head, a hoof wrenching the gag from his mouth. Yet it was not his mouth that he wanted to please right then and there but his cock, scrambling, the humping gyrations of his body too much for everything that she had locked him into. No one could have said quite how he did it, in the aftermath, but the cock ring and sounding rod came free, leaving his rampant cock drooling, spilling cum even in that moment, flowing out freely with nothing stopping it.

But that was not orgasm and that would not satisfy his lust as he pinned his screaming mistress to the floor and rammed into her cunt. It was a tight fit, it always was, but he could not accept anything less as he ground into her, humping savagely, taking her in a far more feral and raw fashion than he ever had before.

“Pet – get off me! You’re in for it now, I’ll – mmph!”

He pressed his hoof over her muzzle, though Arctic would never remember doing that as he gagged her, holding her tight. Half on the floor and half standing, he growled deep in the back of his throat as he thrust and thrust, single-minded with it, nothing else existing for him. A stallion who had been tormented as he had, of course, could not be held accountable for the end result, pleasure washing through him, his first orgasm blistering forth as his overfilled nuts sought to spill what had been backing up in there for two, lustily pain-filled days.

Fluttershy squirmed and fought but she hardly moved at all. He was bigger than her, more powerful than her, and his cock only wanted what it wanted. He slammed into her brutally, not even thinking of her pleasure, the shape of his cock slamming into her womb and forcing her inner barrier to accommodate him. He bulged out her abdomen as he thrust, more and more cum pouring into her, his entire manic thrusting encompassing one, huge orgasm, seed flowing into her body without any semblance of it being stopped.

She had no breath with which to complain, her body taking him even as the dominant party in her rebelled. Fury seethed and twisted and yet it felt good too, tickling a need deep inside her as he battered her into submission. The pounding force of her pony-pet, who was not so much a pet, was relentless, though his tag still jingled with every thrust, whipping back and forth as he hurled his body over hers. Her wings tried to pop up to push him off, but it was a futile, last-ditch attempt to get back control when her body, at least, had already given in to the stallion.

He thrust and thrust but a stallion in his state could not be held to task for missing. He drew back, still spurting, for an extra-long thrust, missing her cunt entirely and slamming into her tail hole. She squealed against his foreleg, but he only held onto her tightly, though it was no rude tugging open of her tail-star but a crude slam and grind that demanded entry. There was no saying “no” to him as he used every muscle and scrap of power in his body to slam in, brutal force overwhelming even Arctic as he bared his teeth in a grunt and a groan that only took energy from his thrusts.

Still, he had to howl, had to throw his head back and flap his wings, feathers drifting off, the tightness of her anal passage drawing more and more from him. It was a mistaken hole but all he knew was lust as he tightened and tensed his glutes, throwing even his body weight into his thrusts, a hoof scooped up below her hips to drag her weak and limp body back onto him with every driving stroke. Magic and hormones fuelled his passion and there could be no end until he collapsed from exhaustion, his shaft stretching out her insides, pushing deeper past her colon. Such a huge length, one that had made many mares quail in the past, could only hope to not cause damage, though she had taken him before – all under her control.

Things were different under his control, though the sex-crazed stallion was hardly in control of himself, to be fair. Fluttershy was just a vessel on which he could expend his frustration, pouring it out over her as he slammed in furiously, ears pinned. He didn’t see her as his mistress, he didn’t see her as anything – just a pony that he needed to fuck, even a set of holes that he could fuck.

His cum poured into her, bloating out her belly from the other end, though it overfilled her stomach too quickly. Fluttershy wriggled under him as it was her turn for her stomach to squash out to the sides, lips moving silently, but only cum bubbled up from them as she coughed. There was too much seed for her smaller body, the stallion hammering in as he kept filling her, a stronger flow of cum heralding his actual climaxes, though there was little difference in those from the endless flow of seed that seeped into her. There was nowhere else for it to go, even as he blinked and took one hesitant step back to reality, though he was nowhere near back to normal as yet even then.

Fluttershy couldn’t get her legs under her, too weak and wobbly to stand, her pony-pet’s nuts still dragging on the floor. She knew then how far she had pushed him as her stomach bloated, eyes wide and an equal mix of fear and lust as he filled her, pumping her belly up as she clamped her mouth shut against an outpouring of cum. Even then, she could not stop it from bubbling up tenaciously from the corners of her lips, working its way out just as her body was roughly and crudely forced to accept what had been building up in him for days.

Her legs flailed, no longer able to touch the floor as he drained himself into her, drawing back only long enough to slam into her pussy again. Her womb accepted him, cock pushing straight into the slop of cum that he had already deposited in there, though there was still so much more to erupt from his dragging nuts. Every last drop had to go, had to leave him, and Fluttershy there was the best hole to be filled. Her cunt swallowed him up as he leaned over her, using the leverage of her belly, her legs dangling, to bear down even more, hammering and pounding, thinking of only the one thing.

To cum. To seed.

There was nothing else for a stud like him, as much as he had only been a colt before. Maybe he could not truly be a stud if he had been broken down so much but the hormones that she had pumped into him still worked away, breaking him further, Fluttershy gulping the cum in her mouth back down as he unloaded another jet of seed inside her.

“Pet! You’ll be whipped...ah...to an inch of your life...”

She squirmed, his cock dragging out slowly, so slowly, her body wanting him, even then.

“Think you’re a big stud now, huh, do you? You’ll be back between my hooves in no time.”

“Quiet! You talk too much!”

“I’ll decide how much I talk, thank you, pet!”

But Arctic snorted, his cock threatening more with pulses, the cum that had been ploughed into her threatening to bubble up from her throat all over again.

“No... No, you don’t know! You...unff...made me like this... So, you can be quiet! Or I’ll make you!”

He didn’t know what had come over him, but he knew he could deal with it. Not having to put up with that anymore, he dragged his dick out and around to stuff her mouth with his dick instead, effectively gagging her. He grunted as he shoved her head down his cock, his hot shaft pounding into her throat, stretching it out, the flow of his cum easing it a little but not much. She breathed sharply through her nostrils, eyes closed against erotic rage, though there was nothing she could get out with his dick stuffed there.

Cum drooled from her pussy but it was what his endlessly spilling cock forced out of her back end that was more alluring. Every orgasm he spent down her throat, pulling back only briefly to ensure she could breathe, for he was not entirely lost to lust yet, forced more and more into her belly and, well, she just wasn’t used to that. Her body churned it through her system, great, big, thick dollops pumping out from under her tail, almost as if she was pushing it out herself. It was the driving force of his rampant length, however, that forced it from her, the thrust and grind of his dick down her throat simply not allowing her body to keep it all in her belly.

Her nose reddened from the slap of his hips on her face, not caring for her comfort. In a way, it was what she had needed too, even if she would have preferred to orchestrate it more directly for herself, barely consciously when he finally finished pounding her mouth and trotted around to stuff her cunt again. Her marehood was so stretched around his cock that pain melded into pleasure, orgasm after orgasm ripping through her, her body overly pleasured despite all the strain that he put her through. Arctic had to rear up to get into her cunny, she’d grown so large, but he knew how to handle something like that, of course, after he had been in the same position so many times himself before.

Arctic stomped and let loose a growl that may have been better suited to a dragon, his mistress flopping to the side so that she rolled over onto her back, the weight of her massively bloated stomach, filled with his cum, dragging her over. To think that she had ever been in control of herself and him was ludicrous considering all that was going on, moaning and whimpering, gurgling cum from her bubbling up lips. The pony under Arctic was hardly recognisable as his mistress anymore but he was so lost in lust that he would not have even thought to stop even if his nose had been pressed right up to her cutie mark.

Fluttershy’s eyelids fluttered, dipping in and out of consciousness, though there was a big part of her that lusted for so much more, the pound of his cock sinking into her tail-star while she lay on her back. At least in such a position, her swollen stomach was less of an issue, though Arctic still had to rear up and push over it to get into the best position to fuck her, hooves squishing and digging into the softness of her belly, so overfilled and slopping about with cum.

He wasn’t thinking, blowing hot air, his nostrils flared, his fat cock ploughing into her backdoor entrance, slamming in harder and faster, deeper than ever. At least, it felt like that to him, everything heightened as his lust did not abate in the slightest. His stamina had been legendary before and yet he could not stop or pause in the slightest for rest that, perhaps, should have been taking, the tip of his cock flaring again as it pounded into her.

“Unff... Yeah... Yes...”

Arctic’s mind was not connected to his mouth, gritting his teeth, chewing on nothing. He gulped and panted, breathing harshly through his mouth, though all his mind knew was lust, pounding, driving lust. He heaved over her, hooves skidding back, tail flagged, spending yet another load into her, the flesh of her stomach rippling and pulsing where a new dose of seed flowed into her. Her body had to take it, bloated and inflated, the towering swell of her stomach looming, though it was nothing that would be at all foreboding to him. He’d had a stomach far, far larger than that on many occasions before anyway. Though perhaps the pony-pet turned rogue knew how to deal with it better than her, despite how things were.

The slap of his hips on her flesh rebounded off the walls, grunting and heaving, his nostrils fluttering with thick gasps of moist breath. His nose pressed into her bloated belly as Arctic breathed in her scent again and again, slamming in, her tail hole so tight around him still and yet forced into submission by the power of his cock.

“Mmmph... Pet...”

Fluttershy grunted, trying to push back, but her legs flailed, not even one in contact with the floor. She was forced to flex at the hocks, her head wedged up against a bondage bench, rolling it from one side to the other. Her tail tried to flick but there was so much cum slopping and oozing out of her tail hole that it was sodden and damp, too heavy in such a position to even consider letting a drop of tension tease out in that manner. Yet his cock was so large inside her, stretching her out, that the pony-mare could not help but whinny through yet another orgasm, a hind leg jigging in the air, even her fetlock flexing, bending, trying to contain the rippling pulses of ecstasy.

Her belly churned and ached, his huge cock, so big that it made most mares quail for its hyper phallic length, sliding from her. Fat globules of cum oozed forth, drooling and slopping down, her backside slick and wet. But there was nothing she could do as she rolled and tilted back and forth in orgasmic bliss, a part of her admiring too that she appreciated that he had broken through, that he was a stud in a way too.

He could fuck her out of breath and he could fuck her into unconsciousness and there was a power in her slut of a pet that ran rampant in the power of his cock swapping back to her needy marehood all over again. She might have been ready for a rest and a break, but Arctic most certainly was not, grunting like a wild stallion, pawing at the ground and kicking out, untamed and unbroken. He was not bridled, the ropes still trailing over his body, and he neighed out in victory as he climaxed even then, thrusting straight through it as he pounded into her pussy, her folds squelching lewdly around him.

“Ah...”

Arctic’s ear flicked but he didn’t really hear her. He was only glad to revel in bliss, as untamed as it was. There was nothing he could do to hold back and, to be frank, the notion did not cross his mind. He grunted, flanks trembling with sweat, his fur matted with sweat, though there were still so many bodily fluids marking his coat that it was hard, in a way, to see the pony beneath them. But he had to keep going, had to keep fucking her, slamming in harder and harder as if his life depended on it.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

His ears twitched, taking it all in, the scent of sex heavy in the air, rolling his eye wildly, the stud in him relishing in it. It was what a part of him needed, a deep, dark feral part, the part of him that was better ruled by his cock, his heaving, churning balls. Maybe that was just how he would have turned out if he had been allowed to expend his lusts whenever he pleased, if he had never been controlled by Mistress Shy. Maybe it had been his destiny, therefore, to come under the ruling command of her dominant hoof, even as his fat cock swelled inside, the medial ring thick, every inch of it so sensitive, tingling and yet feeling everything at the same time.

Yes, yes... Yes, he needed to cum, a mindless drone, a stud who had been pushed too far. His tongue pushed out over his lower lip as he whimpered, ears sliding back. He grunted and tipped forward, putting his body weight and muscle mass behind his thrusts, forcing a groan from his mistress’ lips.

“Ohhh... Oh, pet, I’m going to beat you...”

But her words were weak, lacking in conviction. It was hard to appear strong and dominant, even if one was naturally like that, when they were getting railed.

Her pussy clenched and tightened around him, driving him on to further fervour, his cock shoving all the way up into her womb again. There was no resistance there anymore, though she would not be harmed long-term, of course, her body far too resilient for that. There was nothing that Arctic could do to hurt her, even if Fluttershy did squeak and squeal as his hips connected with her rapidly throbbing butt and thighs, the tops of her legs where he pounded her.

“Ooof!”

Though orgasm ripped the soreness from her yet again, Fluttershy was there in the moment, squealing through it, her pussy milking and milking that delicious, throbbing length of everything it had to give. She’d stoked the dragon’s fire and now she had to bathe in the flame, juices soaking his cock and squirting out, marking his sheath, his nuts – everything – though she was hardly the one in control at all.

Arctic was dimly aware of his cock going even harder in her, how she was even tighter around him, but he could not stop, would not stop, barely coming to his senses enough to give a smirk. To have power, his glutes aching for better reasons, power thrumming through... Oddly enough, for a brief, fading moment of clarity, it was good to feel that power, to know what he’d done, even if he would be punished for it later.

Another load flowed into her cunny, but he did not stop, pulling out and spending it over her cunny, the fleshy folds of her marehood, her drooling tail hole. No, he had a sweeter treat in mind as Fluttershy gulped and gave him a “look”, glaring at him upside-down, legs waving in the air.

“You better not take my mouth again, pet – you’ll be in for it! You already are but all of this is only adding to your punishment!”

Arctic laughed, though there was no humour in his tone, pushing his forelock off his face to the other side as he smeared his cock and all his cum too over the side of her muzzle.

“Oh, yeah mistress? What do you think you’re going to do to stop me?”

Spluttering, she gaped like a goldfish, lips moving but little comprehensible sound coming out.

“Well – I never! You’ll never get to use that cock again if I – mmmmmmph!”

He laughed as he gagged her with his dick, ramming it into her throat and wiggling it deeper, throbbing and pulsing, the tip already flared. He doubted that it had even softened at all since he had started fucking her, constantly plumped out and ready to send a load of hot and heady seed forth where it belonged.

“Quiet! Suck it!”

It was not for him to be naturally dominant and yet the words came from his lips far more easily than Arctic could have ever expected, grunting and pushing on her chest with his hooves, bearing as far over her as he could to wedge all his cock in. She could breathe through her nostrils when he pulled back, of course, but he was more concerned about his pleasure, batting away his mistress’ hoof with a snort and a warning flick of his tail.

“Now... I’m in...huff...charge!”

Arctic speared into her raw throat, letting her hack and gag around him, though it was mostly a remembered reflex from the sensation of a cock ploughing deep where one was not meant to go. Fluttershy’s eyes rolled back in her head, trying to look at him, yet she spun in lust, twisting and turning back and forth, struggling to stay in the moment while her other holes drooled cum. Yet there was still not enough seed coming out of her to deflate the wobbling rise of her stomach in any meaningful way, cum pooling around their bodies as Arctic’s hooves even slipped a little in it.

He gagged her and there was no more Fluttershy could say to halt him, though her gut rumbled with lust and desire for him. He was a stud, though her pet too, and perhaps a side of him that she would have to unleash more in other times too, his cock ploughing deep, stretching her throat and driving down so deep that she swore she could feel the head of his dick ramming into her stomach too. He climaxed, filling her stomach down her throat too, the fatness of his bulge showing through her throat as he thrust and thrust, driving on and on, intent only one on thing.

It didn’t matter that he’d cum so many times over, but he had to do it again and again, his mistress going limp under him, cowed into some kind of submission. She was still conscious, of course, but still tiring more quickly than him, though Arctic could not be far behind. At least, that was what she hoped, groaning around the meaty length of his shaft, the medial ring pounding over her lips and into her throat with the force of his long, driving thrusts.

Yes...

Her throat stretched, his dick blocking off her ability to breathe while he was inside, though concentrating enough to breathe when he drew back was hard, harder than even his cock was. Fluttershy whimpered and grunted around his breeding pole but she was more and more lost in the moment, too lost in the moment to care even as she lusted for him more and more.

Her cunt, her tail-star, her mouth... She lost track of which hole he was fucking, managing to roll onto her side which gave him easier access to her marehood too while her legs were tucked forward and pressed together. Yet there was no easy way for her to lie and hardly any way for her to move as her belly swelled, much larger than she was, the pony “attached” to the cum-filled stomach appearing comically tiny. She was still not as large as she had had Arctic swell from time to time, moaning and gulping down loads of his cum as soon as it was offered to her. She wanted to keep it there, tightening her anal ring and pussy as much as she could.

There was a pleasure to be had too in giving in...but maybe not all the time. Not even as his cock rammed into the back of her womb, into her pussy, her tail hole meeting the same treatment too. To get that again and again from a pet-stud who wouldn’t stop... Hm, that was something indeed that Mistress Shy knew she could make good use of going forward.

The moment slowed, just a fraction, but he was not done with her, her body aching and sore while Arctic thrust on and on, grunting and stomping, his proud whinnies of dominance bouncing off the walls. His mistress quivered deliciously under him as he moaned, her belly trembled even more as the weight of her stomach dragged her back around onto all fours, or something like that, Arctic slamming and pounding into her as if breeding her was the last thing left in his life or, indeed, his mind.

Cum slopped from her tail hole, along with a little of waste, though no one cared about that as he forced more and more creamy seed into her womb, the flow slowly but erupting at the point of orgasm every time. Her belly pushed her up higher and higher, bloating out in front of her so that her head was tipped up, her back end down towards him so that he could keep rutting her furiously. The virility boosters, of course, were what kept him going for so long, even when his balls should have drained from a constant stream of cum, shrinking to something like their normal size and still giving her more and more.

His tongue hung out in dizzy lust as he slammed in, her head reeling, yet the slap of his hips on her backside echoed through the playroom. Her outfit was practically ruined and Fluttershy wondered dimly at that she hadn’t even noticed herself bursting out of it, latex hanging in ruined shreds from her. That would be just another thing to punish him for later, even if it had been set up by her too, in a way.

She may have been more upset if she hadn’t gotten such a good rut out of it, though her pet would know his place again soon even as his thrusts slowed, exhaustion, at long last, getting the better of him. He was barely with himself, eyelids drooping heavily, cum spilling from her lips from where he had fucked her mouth, though most of that, to be fair, had been deposited straight into her belly. He might have swapped to her tail hole again at some point, but the stretch was all the same to her as her muscles weakly worked to clench down around him, milking him of the last drops of seed that his rapidly tiring body wanted to give.

They collapsed at last, Fluttershy slouching to the side with her belly for a rest, head lolling, lips parted with a bubble of cum pouring from within, though there was nothing she could do about the red marks on her, thoroughly bred and used. Maybe it was the blows to her head from his rampant thrusts that had sent her off into dreamland so swiftly, Arctic slumped against her, half-upright and not really understanding why, even though his lips were stretched in a goofy smile.

He hadn’t got one over on his mistress...but she’d think twice about riling him up like that again! Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe the punishment for him would be worth it, though he’d have to consider that again while he was back with reality, his body softening, still aching, passion slipping as he passed out. He would come back around and fear the retribution from his mistress but, frankly, there was no way for a stallion so thoroughly satisfied and spent to care.

Together, they slumbered, Mistress Shy’s stomach gurgling with cum, her body digesting. But she would always remember his power as he pushed over her.

Certain punishments would be for her pleasure…

To be continued…

Part Four

Punished for Her Pleasure
Part Four

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by anonymous

Continued from Punished for Her Pleasure, a three-part series…

Punished for her pleasure…

Or maybe for his punishment. Who was to say after Arctic had taken things so far, beyond all comprehensible means? Burned out and lust-struck, he’d been too far gone mentally and emotionally, his arousal beyond anything that he felt he could control for himself, mounting and breeding his mistress in all ways.

Mistress Shy stalked back and forth, the very next day.

Clip, clop, clip, clop…clip…clop.

Her hooves rang out against the wooden floorboards and, for once, it did not bring a rise of pleasure to her heart to know that she was striking fear into his at that very moment. Her mane was combed and soft after a morning at the spa, though she had not sent Arctic for a bath that time. It was not in her mind to consider him at all deserving of such a thing, not after what he had done.

Ah, but he was not to be blamed, not entirely, even if she could continue to orchestrate everything to best suit her. The dominant pony, the one who had, once, been so quiet that everyone passed her by, but had a quiet confidence to her in daily life, after much soul searching. That did not mean that she did not like being quiet either, only that when she chose to speak, everything she said was very deliberate, precise, as if she had considered it for some time beforehand. Maybe she had or maybe she had not. It was entirely up to her, Fluttershy, to disclose that information if she chose to.

Arctic, however, had gone too far. After being pumped full of aphrodisiacs and teased relentlessly, abused in public, he’d lost control and fucked her multiple times, so savagely and raw that she had not been able to do anything at all to stop him. But she couldn’t let him get a big head over being “pushed” into being a stud, if only for a time, oh, heavens, Celestia, no! That would not do, simply would not do. It would be wrong for a pony pet like him to think that he was anything about his natural station in life, exactly where he was, where he had always been meant to be.

So, she had to come up with something to put him in his place, to show her pony pet exactly where he was meant to be.

Beneath her, in the living room, though he had only had a cursory clean-up, with Angel, Fluttershy’s pet rabbit, staring at him disapprovingly the whole time, Arctic quaked. Still, the pegasus pony’s cock was out and hard, not able to restrain himself even then, the aphrodisiacs still in his system, even if to a lesser extent. His shaft flared, the head thick and plump, still drooling pre-cum, though he hastened to clean it up as soon as it was spent, throwing everything that he dirtied in the laundry. It was one of those terrible cases where he feared making a mess and could not help himself from doing so at the same time. Why, even plugging his dick up may have been more appealing at a moment like that.

“Pet.”

He froze, suck in a breath, his wings flared out, though the lightness of his pale blue coat would not remain such for long. His mane and tail were still a little damp, feathers soft with moisture, but he was no fool. Arctic knew well enough that he had done wrong, that he had pushed things too far, though he didn’t know why either. None of it made sense to him, why everything had spiralled out of control so quickly, his breath catching, flanks heaving, a dark line of sweat marking his flanks where the heat rose to the surface, his body striving to expel it.

Dirty. He was filthy, something to be used, not a “somepony”, only a “something” to be abused. And he was fine with that, even as he lowered his head submissively to his mistress’ hooves, gulping and heaving, trying not to say anything even as anxiety twisted and curled in the pit of his stomach.

He had not earned the right to say anything, but she snapped a leash onto his collar, which was still in place with her pink butterfly tag, the cutie mark of his mistress, dangling and bouncing lightly where it belonged. Arctic was still hers, would always be hers, even as she dragged him bodily down to the playroom of the basement, which was set up more like a fetish dungeon than anything that any other pony in Ponyville may have held in their home.

Arctic whimpered, but knew better than to fight back against her, to even say a damn thing. He couldn’t, not when he knew that he’d done wrong, his mistress saying nothing at all, which was even more terrifying than if she had lost control, ranting and screaming at him. He had to obey, whimpering, whining, trying to be as quiet as possible, not to upset her, Fluttershy shoving him onto his backside with a targeted push of her fore hoof.

“Oof!”

He dropped onto his rump with his hind legs kicked out in front of him – not all that much of a natural position for any pony to find themselves in, but it was of her design, all for what Mistress Shy had in mind. She grunted, slamming a ring gag between his teeth, right up into the back of his mouth behind his teeth. He couldn’t close his mouth, not with that in there, the strap locked behind his head, the buckle one that came with a tiny padlock. Not that there was any way he would soon be able to get his hooves back around there to undo it anyway, the lock merely symbolic. She probably didn’t have the key anywhere near either, not when it would likely be…well…

That tale would only be told when her pet’s punishment was complete.

A posture collar locked around his neck as she faced him down, a curl of mane falling across her face. The ragged edge of it, a flyaway end that needed trimming… Somehow, it only served to make her appear more feral, taking his breath away, the collar tight and restrictive, forcing him, constantly, to keep his head perfectly in place.

For her. All for her.

She locked his fetlocks together, his hind legs awkwardly stuck out in front of him. No rope for him that day: it would be too hard, later, to clean, and she would make him clean up every last little bit of the sordid abuse she still had to put him through. Manacles. Only, cold, hard, Canterlot-engineered metal, all infused with magic to be unbreakable. His forelegs received the same treatment, bent at the knee and tucked up close to his chest, metal binding above the knees and around the fetlocks, though the former proved more uncomfortable than the first.

He didn’t need to be locked down to the ground. She would have more than enough in her to keep him in place, right where she needed the dirty little pet pony to be.

“You’ve been a bad toy.”

Arctic shivered, tongue pushing through the gag. Now, he couldn’t do anything, say anything, not even if he wanted to. But it was the right place for him, his cock throbbing, aching, pulsing before his eyes. The length of his shaft, hyperphallic to most ponies, even though he was quite a large stallion too anyway for his type of pony, was so long that he could see it even with the posture collar keeping his chin up. So thick around that it would leave a mare not experienced with his kind of size stretched and gaping for days, it was a rod of breeding prowess to be revered.

But not when he was used. Not when he was a pet pony. Mistress Shy stalked him, eyes dark, head lowered, though she was far, far from the submissive in such a situation.

“It’s time to show you what happens to bad toys of mine.”

He shuddered. No… No, she wasn’t going to leave him, was she? Of course, that was never an option on the table, yet it was still the worst-case situation that came to mind, the greatest thing he feared. To be without his mistress would be to not live at all, to not love at all, to not experience life at all in the way that he wanted it.

She threw her head back, a vial between her lips, sensually caressing it, even as she swallowed it all. It was not all that big of a vial, disappearing straight down her throat in only a couple of gulps, the red fluid slipping down easily. Mistress Shy, however, made a show of it, licking her lips, tossing the vial away, an evil smirk pulling at her lips, straining them apart in a kind of grin that Arctic could not have said that he’d ever seen before.

“Yes…”

She shook out her mane, smoothing out the light waves in it, grunting and groaning as the magical potion infused her. Her body swelled, all in proportion, for inflation was not something that she partook in – maybe if it ever pleased her. Until then, she would not concern herself with such a thing, not when there were other things to lean into, like her size growth, her body larger and larger, hooves bigger, bigger than ever Arctic’s. Her limbs thickened even more with muscle, demonstrating her strength, even though she was still feminine, towering and looming, a pony mistress that could truly dominate any stallion.

Arctic shuddered, though the working of his jaw did him no good as he stared at her, eyes wide, whimpering – not that that would stop Mistress Shy, of course. Her rump was thicker and rounder too with muscle, yet in a way that he wanted to lay his muzzle over it, adoring it, even if he knew he was there to be punished. She just had that effect on him and even the broadening of her chest, rounding out her sizeable new form nicely formed the perfect picture for him, her flanks lean and her body pristine, shoulders a little more defined up to the more “cresty” rise of her neck, which was almost stallion-like.

The perfect blend of power and Mistress… And it terrified him.

He stared in shock, though not horror, his cock throbbing and bobbing before him, pulsing with arousal despite everything. Even the pegasus stallion could not deny that he was turned on by her, irrevocably so. None of it was anything that he could hold back as the growth potion made his mistress bigger than him, her body the same but larger, more dominating, taking his breath away as his chest tightened in a shudder that truly lacked the presence of breath for such a thing.

“There now…”

Her words should have been soothing but they were low and dominating, a creepy smile tugging at her lips.

“Isn’t that better?”

A few feet taller than him, she still fit easily within the dungeon, even if she might have had a little trouble getting back up the steps, having to wriggle back up through the entrance into her cottage. The animals that day might have considered speaking back against her with greater trepidation when she had a few feet greater size on them, all around.

Arctic whimpered, quailing. Well and truly bound, he had nowhere to go, at the mercy of his mistress. He knew that he deserved everything that he had coming to him, even if he didn’t want to truly go through with his punishment either. He tried to shake his head, though the posture collar kept him in place, restraining even that. Nerves bundled and stretched in his stomach, teasing through, yet his cock remained hard, wanton, desperate to know, in sexual arousal, what abuse his dear, dear mistress had in store for him.

“You thought you could breed me, pet?”

He flinched, her hoof grabbing his muzzle, forcing him to look at her. As the posture collar dug into the soft part of the underside of his jaw, where it joined with his neck, he wheezed, eyes watering.

“You thought you could fuck me?”

Mistress Shy’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s not how we play my games, pet.”

No. No, it was not. Fluttershy did not need to tell him what she was doing, turning around, shoving her thick, round buttocks into his face. The fleshiness of her rump was layered perfectly over muscle, giving her backside that shape that had lured him to her for the very first time. And, oh, how times had changed since then.

He should have known, should have guessed, but he still gasped, nostrils flaring, as she hosed him down with a hot stream of piss, splattering and coating his face, his neck, his chest. It trickled down, warmed by her body, soaking his somewhat clean fur so that it was no longer recognisable in its usual pale, light shade. No more would it be clean or anywhere near pristine, his fur soaked and sodden, the wet feeling cloying and clinging to him. He panted and whimpered, though could not even wheel, his own weight keeping him in place. If he did tip over backwards, however, the wall was not all that far from him, ensuring that he would merely tip and not fall, supported by it, grunting and groaning, a piss pony to start with as the searing heat of her piss soaked into him.

He tried to squirm away, pretend revulsion – though that was only partly too. There was a part of him that was too turned on by her urine, that wanted more of it, to debase himself further, yet that part was deeply locked up within himself, a part of himself that Arctic was, in a way, still afraid to let out. That did not mean that it was a pleasant experience, however, to be hosed down with piss and he struggled even more as she ground her marehood back into his mouth, his chin tipped up to the fraction that the collar allowed, forcing him to gulp and swallow every drop she fed him, lest he choked on her fluid.

“All of it, slut! I didn’t say you could spill a drop!”

There was a harshness biting through her tone that sent equal amounts of fear and excitement into him as he grunted and heaved, the bitterly acrid taste of her piss flowing down his throat, swilling around his tongue. Some marked the corners of his lips, yet all he could do was try to bear through all of it for her, his mistress, his mistress who he knew that he had very much wronged.

But the pain… Oh. That was there, the strain of feeling more and more hot piss flow down his throat. It stretched his throat, his belly, filling him up to the brim. Yet anyone who truly knew Arctic knew that that did not by any means entail the extent of her abuse of him, his body flexible, able to stretch and stretch and stretch beyond the means of any imagination.

Out and out and out. It was not a huge swell, but it was enough for him to feel it weighing him down, as if he had eaten too large a meal, his stomach bloating out obviously, fluid sloshing around messily inside. When she pulled away slightly, the reek of piss already sunk into his fur, his forelock and his mane, he thought that that part was over – and he was right.

It was not over. Not as she lowered her hips slightly to feed him something else, something far dirtier than anything that could possibly have come from her bladder by any means. Her tail hole puckered and pulsed as horror swept through him, his futile struggles twisting him barely back and forth, though, to Arctic, it felt as if he was thrashing passionately, struggling with all his might. He may as well have been an ant fighting the might and power of a giant for all the good it did him as she unloaded her bowels too into his maw.

It was not clean, not in the slightest, and not every bit of her excrement, the filth from her backside, pushed its way down his throat. Some squashed and squelched out the corners of his mouth, where the ring gag forced him to hold his mouth open widely, to take everything that he possibly could straight down his throat. With the throbbing hole of her tail-star crammed into his mouth, behind his lips where he may otherwise have been able to rim her with his tongue, he could not help but take it down.

Logs of scat forced their way down his throat, one after the other, stuffing him full – fuller than her piss could. Dimly, he was vaguely, grossly, aware that her greater size meant that there was even more inside her to fill him up with, Arctic whimpering, grunting, groaning, trying to pull away.

He’d never had it from Mistress Shy before. Somehow, though he could not quite say how, that made it all the dirtier to take it from her, swallowing her scat, taking her filth straight down his throat as he was forced to swallow. If he did not, it only filled his mouth, squashing around the gag, his tongue, reminding him of what he was doing all the more, lumps sticking to his tongue where they should not have. It should have been wet and slick enough in his mouth for the scat to wash itself out, though it was not going anywhere, not in a hurry.

Disgust riddled him, his mistress’ backside taking on a darker, ranker sense of being in that moment. It was wrong to eat her scat from her backside, it was wrong to consider her filthy in any way – but maybe that was just why every lump, transforming into traditional, round droppings as her natural waste pushed itself out, had to be emptied into him. He was the scat stallion, the slut who took it all, who could be bloated and inflated with waste beyond anyone’s wildest imaginings.

Once someone had realised that about him, there was no going back from it. His belly blew up more, the swell rising, though Arctic could only be thankful that it was only what her body naturally produced, even if she was larger, that he was fed with, the filling of his mouth too much on occasion so that his throat was wedged open, only the push of more and more scat able to grind it grossly and laboriously down his throat.

The filth of it clung muskily to his tongue, a taste that would not go away, not in a hurry. He would remember it, night after night, day after day, shoved back quite unceremoniously into the position in her life that he had always been meant to serve and inhabit.

Some things weren’t worth changing.

“Ah…”

She groaned above him, the last splattering spurts of watery droppings filling his mouth, washing down what was already there, marking his muzzle with brown smudges of filth. There was even a touch of green there too, showing where she had been indulging in richer grass at restaurants of later – a delicacy when it was served with a fresh salad, vegetables and fruits that one could not find in Ponyville or near spread out on her plate for display. Arctic, of course, had not been asked to accompany her to dinner at such places.

Yet there was no limit to the scat in her bowels, Mistress Shy ensuring that there was no way that what was stuffed inside him could come back out by strapping a ball gag right over the ring gag. The ball was just about small enough to slot neatly into the ring, not a drop of scat, however watery it was, escaping, which was just how she wanted it to be. Strapping it tight, she pulled the straps harshly, tightening it around the back of his head.

“A start.”

She hopped off him, having stood carelessly on his legs to get the gag in place. She didn’t care about his comfort, not then, not usually. For the moment, her business there was done, his stomach bloated out as if he had a large meal, or two if she was being more accurate about how much she had stuffed into him.

Fluttershy smirked. As she’d said, it was only the beginning.

Arctic squirmed, painfully bloated, the strain in his belly impossible to ignore as she left, just for a moment. But what Fluttershy had set up for him was already in a corner, reeking, stinking, though he could not smell it over the rankness of his own fur, the stench of thick scat cloying and clogging up his nostrils.

He stewed, panting heavily, his chest shuddering, though every breath was hard to snatch for his own. He needed to gulp down what he could though, to regain what of his strength that he could manage, before she returned.

It was not easy, not by a long shot. Not as she returned, freshened up, her mane loose and flowing, every bit the beauty that he had fallen for. She dragged out the tub from the corner, more easily with her larger size, something sloshing about in the bottom that he could not quite work out.

“This was already prepared with my morning release, but another fresh, hot dose should up the ante for a slut like you.”

She squatted over the tub, sighing as she relieved her bladder into it, her hocks slightly flexed as the hot stream of piss steamed as she filled the tub even more. The tub was just about large enough for Arctic to sit in, but that was all that would be managed, watching her with his eyes wide, struggling, trying to fight it. Giving in might have been easier but some things, the wiles of the body, were not so easy to simply set aside.

“You next, pet.”

He whimpered and fought, pushing his tongue urgently against the ball gag, though he was too weak to do anything, submission making him weak, his legs shaking. He had to lean into her, take his support from her, though Fluttershy kept him at the length of her foreleg, making a face, disgusted by the state of him, even though it was her that had caused it to begin with.

His manacles clanked as they fell away, the posture collars and gags remaining in place, his legs trembling as she got him back up on all four hooves. Arctic could have pulled away, but his struggles were futile as the larger, stronger pony marched him to the tub, steam wafting from the surface in a way that would have been alluring if not for the fact that he knew what was in the tub, the reek of it clawing freshly and sharply at his nose.

He dropped into the tub with a muffled squeal, urine sloshing up around him, though he could not help but be glad that there was no scat in there, as much as his aching cock still throbbed. It had to be the aphrodisiacs, yes, she thought, that kept his dick hard, but no one would truly be able to find out the answer to that question until he was presented with a similar scenario, artificial arousal out of the question.

She put latex gloves over her hooves, snapping them up her legs and into place, though she had no real aversion to urine herself. Yet it was for the piss pony to get soaked, to learn where he was meant to be, the position that he was meant to stay in, even though he might have, from time to time, thought that he was above such things.

No. Not at all. Arctic quailed and whimpered as she worked piss into his coat, soaking his mane, his tail, down the arch of his neck. His balls throbbed as they dripped with urine too, but he could not spend his cum, the disgust of it all mingling with stimulation to such an extent that he could not get off, though remained hard. His balls were still busy replenishing all the cum that he had spent into his mistress the day before, anyway, but that would all be seen in time.

Maybe she would use his nuts for something else. Arctic had no say in it, so he didn’t need to know either.

“Stay still.”

The command was snapped and he had to obey as she rubbed it into his mane, pouring it over his head with a jug, though he did close his eyes to keep it out of them. That was one, tiny thing that came to him, something he could control, though neither of them was going to get anything out of getting it in his eyes.

But he could not escape it, his wings even turning a greenish hue as the piss mixed with his feathers, staining every bit of his body through in such a way that could not be ignored or denied. He would reek of her piss more than he ever had before, a piss pony slut that was there to be abused. He knew it, though it had been him that had wanted that, to be nothing, a submissive slut who always needed the iron hoof of a mistress over him.

His fur soaked through with yellow, though the different shades seeped into him, marking every bit of him even as she yanked him, without saying why, out of the tub. There was no nook or cranny of his body that was left dry as he stood there, dripping, his mistress yanking the ball gag only out of his mouth as piss and scat churned uncomfortably in his belly.

Was that it? Oh, of course not – what a fool he was! She shoved his head down, to the release valve of the tub, spending the dirty piss-water into his mouth with a gush, though the ring gag locked around it, despite the uncomfortable angle for his neck. He could only just get his head down into position as it was forced straight down his throat, bloating out his stomach, his belly sloshing about with more and more fluid, belly swelling viciously.

She looked down on him with imperious glee, forcing him to submit even as Arctic weakly squirmed. He may not have been actively bound, but his submission was still there as he grunted and gulped, trying to make it a little easier to bear. Somehow, the dirty piss-water was worse still than urine all on its own, his throat working painfully to take it all down, gulp after sordid, dirty, gulp.

“All of it, whore.”

A whore for her. Had she spoken so roughly to him recently? It made sense, however, for him to be like that. He grunted, swallowing hard, though a lot of the fluid was already in his fur, which held more than he had realised it could, tail sodden and heavy with the sheer weight of all of it.

He gulped it all down, so that his belly bloated like he was pregnant or at least comically overfilled. He didn’t know what comparisons at all to make with himself anymore, not with so much going on, not with so very much all at once. The stallion whimpered, his mistress dragging him away, the tub empty, the gag keeping his mouth open, though that was all for Mistress Shy’s pleasure.

He moaned through the gag, not even able to do anything as she shoved her tail hole into his mouth again. The pucker of her tail-star was no longer something that he wanted to please, in the sense of serving a mare, but he had to take down yet another load of scat from her backside, pony droppings plopping out messily, one after the other. They spattered into his mouth, forcing their way down his throat, as he grunted and heaved, guts shuddering as if the churning mass of his stomach was going to rebel against every bit of dirty waste that had been forced into his strained belly.

He didn’t have any choice, but neither did he want to, his cock softening a little, the aphrodisiacs, finally, wearing off. But not completely. His cock was still half-hard, his body as confused as his mind as filth squelched into his muzzle and down his throat, pushing over his tongue, into the back of his throat where he had no option but to gulp it down.

“I’m sure you’ll get used to that.”

The coldness of her tone was not something that he had heard before, not in that way, but it did not matter. Not as she handled him roughly, as if he did not matter to her anymore, his tail hole screaming as she rammed a thick plug into him, pumping it up.

He was familiar with inflation, but it had been a while since he had had something that grew larger rammed up under there, the old scar pulling and twinging as the thick plug inflated further. It would have locked itself well enough inside him from that swelling alone, if she had left it at that, but that was not the matter that she had her attention on, not at that moment. It was locked into him with a heavy padlock, the straps going around his hips and between his legs, letting him know just how he was to spend his time in there.

The pet cage loomed, a large, physical cage that he was locked up in from time to time, whether for pleasure or punishment. Sometimes the line between them was blurred so much that he could no longer tell the difference between them, his gut lumpy and sagging near the floor when he stood. The additional meal of filth that she had given him hadn’t helped his stomach at all, churning and gurgling, his fur soaked with piss and reeking all the while.

Would that last for long? He didn’t know what the time was, how long he had been down in her dungeon – he couldn’t see it as a basement alone anymore. Time had no meaning while he was serving her, playing his part as her devoted pony pet, always devoted, in all ways. It was all he had to do, all he wanted to do, all to serve her, completely and utterly, forevermore.

That didn’t mean that everything was comfortable as his huge belly pushed back against his cock, straining between his legs, so lumpy that he could feel logs of scat inside, bringing a retching rise to his stomach. Only after slapping the ball gag back into place on his muzzle did Fluttershy leave, a flirty flick to her tail betraying her enjoyment of his abuse.

“Sleep well, pet. I’ll be back when I feel like it.”

Such was the way of being a pony pet, Arctic settling down, however uncomfortably on the lumpy cushion of his own stomach, in an attempt to get some kind of rest.

It would not, so to say, be restful.

Continued in part four…

Part Five

Punished for Her Pleasure
Part Five

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by anonymous

Continued from part four…

Arctic woke with a start, neck aching, the posture collar digging in viciously as if it was actively trying to stab him. He didn’t know why he’d been left in it, only that it dug in, viciously so, his breath catching, heaving, weighed down by the bulging of his gut.

The bars of the cage rose around him but there was a plastic sheet too, keeping in the stench of him, though the red light of the dungeon could dimly be seen on the other side of the transparent sheet. Stifling a retch, for it was not as if it had anywhere to go, Arctic grunted and groaned, taking his weight more firmly on all four hooves, though his belly still sagged and dragged. It was not, after all, as if he was able to relieve himself.

“It reeks in here, pet.”

Mistress Shy was there. Well, there had to have been something to wake him up. His cock was hard and it was only then that he realised, in all the confusion before, that she’d locked a cock ring around his dick too, complete with a butterfly-shaped padlock. In a way, it was fitting, but he trembled at the thought of his arousal being forced for so long.

“Disgusting… To have this infiltrate my playroom would be an abomination. Do you not agree, pet?”

There was a lofty edge to her voice as she wrinkled her nose and waved her hoof in front of it, though the plastic kept him well enveloped in the reek of his own body, the waste churning about in his gut.

“Speaking of which…” Her lips twitched in a smirk that she did not yet want to show him. “My dinner… Oh, pet, it really isn’t sitting quite right in my stomach. So, I think I have a new use for my piss pony slut, all nice and lumpy, tucked away in its box.”

Arctic shuddered, trying to shrink back, but the cage was not all that large. If his stomach had not been so bloated, he might have been able to turn around in there, but the heft of it made turning impossible. That meant that he had to stay exactly where he was as Mistress Shy backed up to a special valve in the sheeting, her pucker grinding up into it. He gasped through his nostrils, but she didn’t allow him anywhere to escape to, her pony pet in a sealed, plastic box to contain every drop of stench, blasting her guts out through her backdoor entrance.

The rippling bellow of wind bursting from her backside rolled forth with raw abandon, not the sort of thing that even she needed to keep in. Arctic gasped and tried to reel as her gas flooded him, worse than the scat, though maybe only because it was fresh to him. It clawed at his nostrils and sunk its way into his lungs, his still much larger mistress easily reaching the top of the cage where the valve was located.

It may have been strange to him to see her sitting up there if not for what he knew she was doing to him, the putrid scent of her blasting forth, pulse after pulse, though there was no softness in the rhythm of it. It did not need to be as he was flooded with pump after pump of viciously noxious gas, clawing at him, surrounding him, shoving him down to the ground as if the very fumes were striving to make him submit.

Green-tinted smog infiltrated the box, swelling around him in a heated wrap. It was putrid, rancid, worse than anything at all that he had ever smelt before and ever wanted to smell again. He dropped like a stone to the floor, fighting to avoid it even as it came for him, thickening in the air around him, pumping and swirling until, even with the mass of his lumpy stomach in the way, there was nowhere for him to go.

Mistress Shy laughed out loud as she hiked her tail for him, more farts rippling forth, her tail hole flexing and clenching, muscular contractions helping her to relieve her guts of the pain there. Yet any pain that she relieved herself of only proved to be more straining still for him as he hacked and gagged even around the two gags crammed into his muzzle, staggering and wobbling back and forth, though Arctic was far from a drunkard. If he was drunk on anything, he was intoxicated by her fumes, her rump letting loose more and more blasts, the pony’s eyes watering, coughing, spluttering, choking out whimpers and pleas even through the gags.

“Mmph… Ooommmph… Oooooohhhh!”

“What was that, pet?”

She cupped her hoof up to her ear, an eyebrow raised.

“I’m afraid I can’t hear you!”

She didn’t want to break him completely, not yet at least, but it was alluring too as he begged through the gag, eyes streaming, her fumes encasing him completely. She filled every bit of the airspace in there with her reek as he fought for some kind of relief, though nothing was to be found where he flailed and staggered, forced to take in gulp after gulp.

Through the green-tinted air, the smog thick and heavy, she drew his leash up to the plastic barrier, forcing his head up to the valve on the side, hopping down to best match up to him there. She dragged his head down, low enough so that she could reach through the hole and undo the ball gag – the ring gag would have to stay on for the moment, the ball gag dangling from the side of his face – so that she could take care of his morning debasement.

“Open wide, pet…”

As if he could do anything else, though he still pushed his tongue through the gag, whimpering and moaning, his pleas coming without words. There might have been words in there, but they were not ones that even Arctic could fish out for himself, gulping, eyes watering, even as she forced all words from his lips, relieving her bowels, once more, into his open mouth.

The stallion fought and gagged and squirmed, but couldn’t do anything at all as she forced her droppings down his throat, one after the other. They squished around his teeth and tongue, flooding his muzzle with a fresh dose of a stink, though the reek of her gas settled into his fur, his mane, even the feathers of his wings. It was even more cloying, clinging to him like nothing else, than her piss, a deeply set humiliation that did not at all seem as if it would be easy to, one day, slip away from.

Log after log squeezed down his throat, showing an obvious bulge in his neck, the swell of his oesophagus obvious, the scat only having one way to go. He wasn’t even sure that he had a gag reflex anymore as his larger mistress excreted into him, using him as nothing more than a living toilet while she added yet another load of scat to his churning, gurgling, already pained stomach.

Only when she was done with him did she shove him away from the plastic and the bars of the cage, sealing up the plastic again, leaving him with only the ring gag in. It would be a good reminder for him of how his mouth was always to be open for her, always available for use, the stench of her gas seeping into his maw, down his throat, even clawing its way around his tongue, a smell that he could also taste, in a way.

“That will do for now, pet.”

It would have to. She could not smell a thing from inside the plastic box, sealing the valve up again quickly and ensuring all was locked away. He slumped against the bars of his cage, panting and heaving, blinking away moisture from his eyes, though he could not even pin his tail down for some semblance of modesty as everything clung to him, his humiliation nowhere near complete, heaving and snorting, even his nostrils moist. Not everything seemed to come together as he wanted it to, but it was not under his control.

He’d never wanted it to be under his control. Arctic sighed, closing his eyes. It didn’t make things any better for him. Not even knowing that he had to do every sordid, vile, disgusting thing that his mistress wanted to put him through too.

He tried not to breathe too deeply as the minutes passed. It didn’t help.

*

He didn’t know how much time passed, though it was only a couple of hours, not that that helped him any. The pegasus grunted, so large that his hooves barely touched the floor. He could just about drag himself about the cage a little, but that last load of scat had inflated his belly more, making it more difficult still for him to even consider lumbering about the cage, hauling the sheer weight of his stomach forward and back, sliding and dragging.

The logs of scat in his belly, with nowhere to go through the rest of his body with his tail hole plugged up, stayed right where they were. His body could inflate to hold them, but that was not something that his body could digest, not even then, panting, his mistress standing before him without him even realising that she had returned. Grunting through the gag, Arctic tried to show her how hard it was for him to move, the posture collar feeling, finally, as if it was a part of his body that could never again come off his body.

Maybe it had always been meant to be there. There was some depraved part of him that liked the restriction, though it was not quite possible for him to say why.

“Hello, pet.”

He flinched, eyes averted. Was there any point in begging anymore? He didn’t know, could not know, groaning softly, his nose tipping slightly down.

His hooves flailed as the larger pony dragged him out of the cage, towards the same tub as before, even though he looked at it with horror. There was nothing good that could come of that tub, nothing good at all, flanks heaving, struggling with the weight of his body, the sheer volume of scat and piss filling his body putting pressure on his organs.

“Don’t resist, pet.”

The steel in her tone cut through him as he whimpered, lowering his head. It was no use, no use at all, though she did, finally remove the posture collar, bringing a fresh ache to his neck, working its way back down his spine. Mistress shy tied off the leash to his regular collar, which had been beneath, though locked it to the edge of the tub so that he had to watch what she was doing without being able to pull away.

Arctic groaned, though could not look away as Mistress Shy emptied her bowels first into the tub, a steaming pile of shit piling up as her pucker pulsed and pushed out lump after lump. Like before, it was not all the same consistency, some watery splatters oozing forth, dripping and trickling, the thicker logs pushing out in a thick “plop plop plop”, all to add to the pile.

Thicker, rounder droppings topped it all off in a steaming mass of scat as Arctic moaned, able to easily anticipate what the half-full tub had in store for him. Maybe he would have liked to do more with her, considering Mistress Shy’s larger size, but that was of no option to him as she squatted over the tub again, relieving her bladder too.

“Ahhh… Much better…”

The stench of piss mingling with shit had him gagging, not that the ring gag helped him in the slightest. His breath caught, flanks shuddering with a heavy line down the side, tail trying to flag, though it was still sodden, if a little drier, with her piss. Maybe he would never feel dry again.

The piss and scat mixture mushed together as she unlocked his leash from the side of the tub, unclipping it from his collar too before shoving him, head-first, into the tub. It was abrupt, as if it was an everyday event to her, Arctic gasping, his world turning brown. Slushy scat mushed around him as he tried not to get it in his mouth, though that was impossible with his mouth forced open with the ring gag, squashing it all in against his will. Pushing it out with his tongue was a futile endeavour, but he still strived with all his might to ward off his humiliation for a little while longer.

Mistress Shy wasn’t having any of that, grabbing him by the collar at the back of his neck and shoving his face into it.

“Swallow it down, pet – I’m watching.”

He had to, there was no other choice! His legs quaked, joints weak and achy even then. Scat and piss swilled into his mouth and he maintained eye contact with her as he swallowed laboriously, wondering if he would ever want to swallow anything at all down ever again. Maybe, maybe not, though times would carry on, changing, the larger mare rolling him over, pushing him onto his back so that as much scat as possible was smeared into his coat. No more was he destined to bear the yellow and green marks of her piss, even some of her smoggy gases having marked his mane and forelock, but stained in brown, some of it a darker, richer shade of green struck through.

“You’ve got my hooves dirty!”

Making a face, she shoved her forehooves into his face, letting his tongue come out, weakly swiping along her hooves, though he was exhausted, cleaning them. There always seemed to be more scat there, her dirty, mucky hooves shoved into his face, and his tongue flicked out, again and again, pushing along them, lapping and swirling, trying to do as she asked.

His muzzle, however, wrinkled in disgust, at the thick taste of scat penetrating his muzzle, bits working their way down his throat when he tried so very hard not to swallow. Then there was the stench, the cloying reek, how it clung to him, sank into him, stained his coat in ways that he had not even realised were possible, up close and personal to the process, for once. Coming from Mistress Shy, all of it was so much more intimate than he had been expected, even if it was a lot, so much, a time of change in their relationship that he wasn’t so sure he was up for, ultimately.

But that was exciting. Exciting in a way that he didn’t want to consider, as much as his guts churned, roiling with discomfort. The pain could not be ignored as he lapped her hooves, scat smeared into his coat and squelching obsessively.

He slipped down, whimpering, rocking his hips back and forth as she hauled him from the tub, rubber socks encasing her forehooves. They were cute, in a way that he had not considered before, but he didn’t want to say anything as the gag held his mouth open, stifling a whine, sitting there as scat slid down his body, his pale hide stained dark brown, obviously gross. His head was tipped back, a funnel locked into the gag, though it was not as if the ring gag was still needed. His jaws could stay open for longer still and it was another play on control for her, another way in which she could use and dominate him.

“Bottoms up, pet.”

The use of her calling him “pet” should have soothed him, but there was no way that it could as he submitted, keeping his head tipped back, swallowing hard, scat forced down his throat. If he did not swallow, it would squash out the corners of his mouth and that would upset his mistress more, and he couldn’t have that. He had to please her, had to do everything possible for her, sinking deeper and deeper into submission while his belly bloated.

After all, there was over half a tub of scat and piss in there, maybe three-quarters full, pouring into his guts. The tube of the funnel crammed into the gag a little more securely as it poured straight down his throat, pump after pump, the tub held up over his head, tipped by a pony who was so much stronger than him. Mistress Shy held the scat tub easily in her hooves, clad in rubber socks, ensuring that she stayed clean even while she filled up her pet.

His stomach grew, squashing out to the sides of his body, though there was nowhere for him to go. His hooves did not touch the floor, flailing to either side of him, panting and heavily, eyes half-closed, gulping and gulping, doing as she willed, even as his stomach revolted, thrusting back against the drive of scat. The taste of it still pulled over the back of his tongue and his mind filled in the rest of the gaps in the raw reek of it, stomach gurgling as it was forced to take down everything, absolutely everything.

He couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to, whimpering and trying to turn his head back and forth, the tension in his neck building all over again, even without the posture collar in place. He grunted and shook, struggling to bear through it, eyes watering. Through it all, some part of him wanted to do it for her, even as his belly succumbed to pressure, bulging out to the sides, lifting him further from the floor so that his hooves dangled a foot from it, even when he stretched down. His belly was larger than his body, lumpy and bloated, tail flicking weakly back and forth, but it was not for him to protest, her dirty toilet slut, there to be abused and punished for his misdemeanours against his mistress.

“Oops, seems we forgot something, pet…”

The funnel pulled from the gag, allowing one last dollop of scat to plop onto his muzzle, marking his face, over his nose, into even his nostrils. He grunted, trying to pull his tongue back, but it was not to be as he whimpered, mane falling down his neck in a stinking mess, hair all clumped together into thick locks and lumps. Mistress Shy set him back, shoving his shoulder so that he wobbled off-balance, plopping onto his butt with his huge, gurgling stomach out in front of him, offering some balance. It kept him in place, at least, though that was little comfort as the ropes came out again – not the good ones, the ones that would be thrown away later, after they reeked of scat and piss and Celestia knew what else.

“Urf…”

Mistress Shy made a show of waving her hoof in front of her nose as she sat him perhaps a little more comfortably on his backside, shifting his position so that he was not perched so much on his pelvis, though a pony like him was never supposed to sit in such a position. There were more aches and pains in his body than just the strain of his bloated belly, though he couldn’t do anything about that, only grateful that it helped balance him a little.

He wobbled. It helped, but not enough.

Ropes lashed him in place, tightening around his chest, keeping his forelegs tucked up to his chest, so that they were well out of the way of his stomach. But what she wanted to show him was the pipe coming down across the ceiling, her eyes following it even as his even could not help but follow the line of it…

…All the way to a point halfway down the wall where it connected to another. Arctic could not have known what Mistress Shy had planned, yet his stomach still chilled.

“Ooof!”

She made a face at the pipe, for that manner of play was not her inclination, disconnecting it as the smell from within seeped forth. Yet there was a hole for the end of it to fill, attaching a flexible hose to the open end of the pipe and stopping up what was left unused, so as not to let that smell get into everything in her playroom unduly. The hose crinkled lightly, the extendable ripples in its length compressed in some places and let out in others, though the tip could be inflated in a ring that would fit perfectly behind the ring gag still in his mouth.

“I’m having guests over for dinner, pet, but I do not require your services up there today.”

She fixed the hose to the gag, pumping up the inflatable ring on the inside, locking it in place behind the gag where only she could remove it. Arctic whimpered, squirming, his belly gurgling, overfilled with scat.

“I do not want any embarrassing issues like last time, the pipes getting clogged… This is where you come in.”

The evil smirk on her face, the wild edge of her mane – both things sent a sharp pang of worry into his gut. His shaft, however, was plump and hard, the cock ring fixed in place, keeping him aroused even if it pressed down in such a way as to make orgasm difficult, if not impossible. That was one of the positions that she liked him to be in.

“You’ll take it all, pet, and I know you have room in you. Look how big you were after you came back from the castle! If I have lots of friends around…maybe we’ll even surpass that. Who knows?”

He whined, flailing in his bondage, though he hardly seemed to be moving at all, muscles twitching, pulling, as helpless as he’d ever been. Yes, his belly could inflate, bloating out more and more, his balls and bladder too. Perhaps there simply were too many parts of his body that could be blown up and abused, making him the perfect victim, an ideal target for ponies just like Mistress Shy that knew how to use and abuse him, to bend a weak little pony like him to their dirty, sordid, filthy will.

He stayed there, alone, Mistress Shy disappearing, still larger than she had been, though he was sure it would become all part of their talk up in the cottage. It must have been later than he’d thought if she was hosting a dinner party or something larger, though it was a moment of respite for him that he could not help but take.

His cock throbbed, pulsing lightly, testing the limits of that cock ring, even as it kept him hard, wanton even if the bondage would not have done so. The pegasus tongued the hose lightly, the fresh and clean rubber coming with a strong taste that did nothing to wipe the feel of scat in his mouth, the lingering aroma and taste in the back of his mouth.

The toilet above him gurgled. He didn’t want to think about it, though he could not have thought that it would take long at all for the pipes to churn waste down to him, the less than willing toilet slut in the basement. Arctic whined, something thick and dirty grinding into his muzzle, mixing with the saliva on his tongue, pushing into the back of his mouth where he had no choice but to swallow. The ring gag pressed most of his tongue down but, with the scat squelching through his mouth, he could not help but taste it, all the while shuddering at the sense of hooves clip-clopping above his head.

So many ponies. And all of them had needs, using him without even really knowing that they were using him, contributing to his debasement. He grunted thickly, trying to slip away to a different reality, though that was not possible as waste funnelled straight into his mouth, squeezing down his throat. If he’d known the ponies better, he might have been able to guess who was excreting into his mouth, but all he knew was the texture of their waste, the musky taste of it, winding through the filth.

Some excreted typical “horse apples”, round droppings that were hard to swallow. The logs of waste pushed their way down, somewhat connected. Splattered, watery droppings hinted at a different kind of diet and went down easier, though was the filthiest kind of waste to take down his throat. It just seemed to get everywhere, flowing under the ring gag into his mouth, swilling around his tongue and teeth, hacking and gagging and, finally, striving to resist in some small way.

It was hard, and only possible because he breathed through his nostrils rather than his mouth. Even as a gush of urine, potent and reeking strongly, flowed down his throat, he forced himself to stop swallowing the scat, despite everything. Holding it back, he grunted and resisted the natural urge, disgust pushing through the pit of his gut. Maybe there was still some manner of rebellion in him from the day before, or was it a couple of days earlier… Time was difficult to keep track of, but he forced it back, no longer “flushing” the waste of the party guests for his mistress, hooves moving back and forth above his head.

Of course, she had to notice as it backed up in the pipe, his belly gurgling, though inflating slowly as he took down only one pony’s worth of waste at a time. Mistress Shy stormed down the steps to the playroom with her eyes already narrowed, her mane fluffed up and prim and proper again, though the glare in her eyes should have sent more of a chill down his spine than it did.

“This…” She stopped dead in her tracks, eyeing up his bulging throat, his strained eyes, the gurgling rumbling of his gut. “This will not do.”

Somehow, those cold words were more chilling than her anger, though he held fast. Truthfully, there was too much scat for him to swallow anymore, blocking up the entire length of the pipe back up to her toilet, and she yanked the pipe out with a savage growl, unbuckling the ring gag. Sweet relief was his as he worked his jaw for only a moment, a thick, huge length of silicone dildo ramming into his mouth.

“Mmmph! Unnff!”

No! She had a massive toy between her hooves, using it to messily ram the waste down his throat, the mushed-up mess of scat and toilet water and piss, slamming it past the blockage that had been entirely of his own doing. He grunted and groaned, his stomach bulging, swollen out before him as it dwarfed the size of his actual body.

If he hadn’t resisted, maybe things would have gone better for him, even as she shoved the silicone length down his throat too, forcing the waste all the way down. The pony chuckled, prodded it deeper, a glint in her eye as she forced the toy deeper and deeper, the toy slick with waste and filth, a huge bulge in his throat betraying its passage. It didn’t need to be gentle, of course not, grinding on, shoving more and more into his guts, jamming it crudely into him.

Yet she did not stop there, whereas she could have simply used the toy to cram the waste down his throat. Oh no, she had something far worse in mind for the pony, grinding and pushing, the dildo one without a flared base so that it could be pushed violently past his teeth, no matter how hard his tongue pushed at it. He wailed and whimpered, muted and muffled, and Mistress Shy ignored him as she forced the toy into his throat too.

“Swallow!”

What else could he do other than to obey, though it took several, hard, sobbing swallows before the dildo pushed down his throat, bulging it out, showing how it travelled down into his stomach, where it joined the rest of the filth. Heaving and gasping, Arctic tried not to think about the wetness around his eyes too much. His mistress… He only had to think of her. Then he could get through it.

Mistress Shy chuckled. It was too easy to abuse him sometimes… And it made her heart sing, leaping, pounding, almost as roughly as she drove the toy down into his throat. Freeing the way for her toilet slave, Mistress Shy brutally took him, opening him up. Only then could she take the hose again, without the ring gag, and cram it down his throat straight after the dildo had been removed, only to lock it in place, binding it there crudely and roughly with a length of rope wrapped around and around his muzzle so that it could not possibly slip free.

“Get it all down, pet…”

She laughed as she left, leaving Arctic there, once more, with a heaving volume of waste to take down him, belly gurgling all over again as it was forced to swell. The taste of scat lingered in his mouth even though he could not feel it sliding over his tongue anymore, yet she stripped all resistance from him so efficiently that it was hardly something that he could believe was present before.

Why had he fought back? He moaned and closed his eyes, though that only heightened other sensations, how tight his throat felt around the hose, how much he wanted to swallow something fresh and clean. Yet the only fluid that seeped down his throat into his stomach was piss and toilet water, the squashed-up scat flowing in a more sludgy fashion, even though it only had one place to go.

It could only go into her slave stallion, for he could not be a pet when he was so filthy, dirty, scat clinging to every part of his body, reeking of so much waste that he could not possibly ever think of being clean. His lumpy stomach bloated out and out, though it was hard for him to see, large enough that it pressed up against the bars of the cage, though he was outside it. That meant that it had to be at least two metres in diameter to reach that, a thought that send a fearful shudder through him, panting and trembling away, whimpering, wishing for relief. That was not to come, however, as waste bulged into his stomach, bloating out, fat and swollen, a lumpy slut that was only there for the sole purpose of servicing their toileting needs.

The cage creaked as he pressed into the bars from the outside, a spanking bench bumping across the rubber floor as his gut pushed it out of the way. He was not even recognisable as a pony anymore as the strain in his throat grew, his belly inflated, a lumpy mess, stained and marked with filth upon filth. The fluid within him only marginally cushioned it, though it was small comfort to him as his belly grumbled, trying to rebel, striving to revolt, yet Mistress Shy had made sure that he was plugged from both ends with no option to escape.

Continued in part six…

Part Six

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