Saddled

The applause didn't stop when the kiss did, the assembled guests pouring their praise on the freshly married couple. Mac smiled as his lips left his wife's, their small act of intimacy sealing their bond and announcing proudly to the world their love and unbreakable union. She smiled back at him, beautiful in her white gown and veil, her cerise eyes brimming with love and pride, speaking a thousand words to him without saying a single one out loud. Turning to the crowd, they beamed at their gathered friends and loved ones, sharing their triumph and delight, hand-in-hand and ready to go out into the world together.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, holding him in place as he moved to step forward, her tone playful and her grip far too light to actually stop him.

"Headin' off," he told her. "The two of us, together. To our reception."

"But we haven't consumated our marriage yet," she pouted, smirking at him in a devious, sultry way.

"Uh, no, we ain't," he agreed. "That comes later, when we're alone..."

"And deprive our friends of the experience?" she questioned, gasping in faux-horror. "First, you kissed the bride, now it's time for the bride to kiss you." She ran a hand down his chest, biting her bottom lip lasciviously. "Let's not be squeamish when it comes to the more...powerful aspect of demonstrating our love."

The stallion stammered in surprise as she sank to her knees in front of him, her palms gliding down his hips and legs and back up again, caressing his inner thighs until she caught his zipper with a deft pinch of her thumb and forefinger and unzipped him shamelessly in front of the assembled guests. Without a hint of bashfullness or hesitation, she shoved her hands into his underwear and retrieved his awakening ardour, threading it through the space she'd made for him, and exposing his stallionhood to everypony present. He should've been mortified, as should everypony else, but all he could muster was a muted surprise as she began to stroke his shaft, delivering soft kisses to the sides in an effort to bring him to full hardness. The guests, too, didn't react with disgust or contempt, but watched on approvingly, smiles adorning their muzzles when he turned to look at them.

"Uh, honey, wh-what're you doin'?" he asked. It was all he could muster; his arms only raised far enough so he could bush his fingers through her magenta mane, and despite his trepidation, he couldn't summon the will to stop her.

"Giving you a wedding gift," she responded, circling her tongue around the rim of his crown in a sinful display of precision.

"But ponies are watchin'!"

"I know." Her fingers were divinely soft as they stroked his staff, massaging great swathes of his rod even as they failed to fully enclose around it. "It's the perfect time and place."

Mac found himself unable to disagree, letting out a sigh as her lips passed over his glans, forming an airtight seal and suckling expertly at the sensitive tip, her tongue rolling up and down his plateau as she did so. Her technique was measured and sublime, and the presence of a multitude of onlookers only made the experience more exciting, if somewhat tense. His wife didn't care at all; she thrived on it, in fact, her soft little moans conspicuous so the guests could hear just how much she enjoyed tasting the huge member her husband was boasting. Slowly, she engulfed more of him, closing her eyes as she bobbed back and forth in gentle passes, smoothly and incrementally annexing more and more of his shaft to the embrace of her lips and attentive tongue, swallowing happily around his girth.

The appearance of other mares was sudden and immediate. Without warning, an azure pegasus dropped to her knees next to his bride, grinning up at him from below a swept-back white mane and, with a wink, licked her way down from his medial ring to his sheath. With his trousers in the way, she unlooped his belt deftly and popped open the button holding his trousers together, pulling them down along with his underwear to better expose his equipment. It took Mac a few seconds to recall her name - Night Glider - by which time Cheerilee had sank down to her knees on the other side of him, kissing her way down the side of his pride and lowering herself to his groin, planting her lips on his right nut and smooching it tenderly. Around them, more mares took their place, waiting their turn to praise his stallionhood, among them ponies he'd known since his childhood, and some he'd only met more recently, all of them eager to sample his goods.

"How romantic," Mayor Mare cooed, wrapping her arms around his torso and hugging his back. "Having everypony celebrating openly like this, without shame or fear. I officiated your parents' wedding, too, and it's clear you love each other as much as they did. I'm glad you can marry your beloved without having to do so in secret." She sank down, trailing her hands down his sides until she reached his narrow hips, and pressed her lips unhesitatingly against his buttocks, each at a time, before worming between his legs and lapping at his sack from behind, taking advantage of her position to jump the queue.

Mac let out a staggered breath, hands roaming his belly and chest, holding onto his hands, massaging his stones and appraising his legs while he received oral bliss from every angle. Looking up, he saw that all the guests were standing, queuing for a chance to get to him, all of them looking on lustfully and longingly. Applejack was among them, smiling proudly at him, her eyes brimming with satisfaction and a small but growing amount of excitement. That should've been weird, but it just felt natural. Didn't it?

Something wasn't right. He looked down again, something scratching at the back of his mind. Why was he getting married? He couldn't recall anything before the marriage, not without it swirling and fading into obscurity. He vaguely recalled them being together, but hadn't they broken up? Why were they getting married? As those thoughts entered his head, the sensations from around him began to cool, becoming more abstract until they were completely absent. He didn't feel like he was standing up, but laying down on something soft. The afternoon sun didn't feel warm against his skin, as if it was just an illusion. All he could feel was the gentle suckling on his pride, and hands massaging his jewels - those sensations became more vivid, more sharply defined, until it was all he could feel and hear.

His eyes flickered open, the scene around him dissipating instantly, the final frame of the dream lingering in a frozen flash, which itself began to disappear like a photo developping in reverse. He was in an unfamiliar room, a gentle breeze entering the room from an open doorway which led to a balcony overlooking a city. Noises of a bustling street below followed the fresh air into the chamber, greeting him as he roused from his sleep. Beneath him, a thick mattress morphed to his shape, leaving him weightless within an angelically soft embrace, feathery pillows cradling his head.

"Good morning, master," a sultry voice purred. It was feminine, confident, and distantly familiar.

Looking down his body, he saw the bedsheets had been thrown to the side, and two females were stationed at his waist, nursing his morning wood. A striped beauty was blowing him, taking the first half of his erection in her maw and bobbing in focused rises and falls, keeping to a strict rhythm as she moved, smoothly, gracefully, and achingly slowly, paying due attention to every inch of him, and making sure her technique was flawless. A griffon rested her head on a claw, smiling knowingly at him as she stroked at his member, trailing her talons carefully and lightly up and down his sheath, and dipping down to cradle and fondle his balls. As she toyed with him, her eyes twinkled with mischief and delight, anticipating something to which he wasn't yet privy.

She was Gaia, the one smirking at him. The other one, the zebra with gorgeous braids, was Zemballa. They'd visited him while he was bathing last night after the feast, and they'd done the sorts of things he wouldn't have had the imagination to fantasise about merely a week ago. The information returned to him as quickly as the memories did, and his eyes widened in shock and embarrassment.

"I hope you don't mind us helping ourselves to breakfast," Gaia continued, shifting her head to his sheath and licking upwards in a slow drag, letting her tongue draw itself over his veiny skin. "We were just so very hungry, and Z here was just so parched, she absolutely needed a drink right away. I hope you can forgive us, master." She kissed his medial ring softly, imitating innocence and flashing him a saccharine smile.

"Ah...'scuse me," he muttered, sitting up and shimmying to the edge of the bed hurriedly, doing his utmost to avoid kicking them in the process. They seemed surprised at his action, remaining silent as he rummaged through his wardrobe for the dressing gown he'd packed, and hastily donned it, using the cord to tie his throbbing need against his body. Folding the gown over his immense pride, he hoped nopony would see the crown resting between his pecs. It was inconvenient, but he couldn't really do anything to make it go down, and he couldn't wait long enough to see it deflate naturally. "Ah've gotta go do somethin', just wait here."

"As you wish, master," the griffoness said. "We'll be here for you when you get back."

"Do you want us to do anything while you're gone?" Zemballa asked. "Make your bed? Clean the room?"

"Play with each other?" Gaia suggested, pulling the black and white mare up to her. "Something nice for you to come back to."

"If y'all want," Mac replied, opening the door. "Nothin' specific, just keep yourselves busy." Not waiting to hear their response, he stepped out and closed the door behind him, looking both ways before picking a direction and travelling down the corridor.

The estate felt bigger as he paced through the corridors, the clack of his hooves against tiles echoing briefly before being snuffed out by the open space looking over the courtyard, giving his walk an odd staccato that felt oddly distant. His heart thumped, his mind racing with questions and concerns, and as far as he could tell, there was only one horse he could approach to address anything that was flashing through his head. He had to ask for directions from a passing servant before he found his way, but after only a little bit of a walk, he found himself in front of the door he needed.

"Aidkhul," a voice called after he'd knocked, which Mac took as an invitation to enter. Creaking open the door, the pony saw Tajir sat at his office desk, scribbling something onto parchment. Upon seeing Mac, the stallion smiled warmly and placed his quill back into its inkwell. "Sabah alkhayr, my friend," he greeted, spreading his arms wide. "I hope you slept well. I did not wish to wake you before you were ready, but my servants will still prepare breakfast if you wish to eat. Lunch is not too far away either, if you would rather wait."

"Thank you," Mac replied, shutting the door behind him. "Ah'm not hungry, but ah appreciate your hospitality." He walked over to the desk, trying to organise his thoughts. Tajir watched and waited patiently. "The, uh...ah woke up with two of the servants in my bed..."

"Yes, the zebra and the griffon," Tajir recounted. "Do you wish for their paperwork?" He began rummaging through the drawers, the sound of flicking paper reaching Mac's ears.

"Ah was more wonderin' why ah woke up to them in the first place," Mac admitted, scratching his cheek bashfully. "Ah didn't expect last night to happen, an' ah certainly didn't expect them to still be around today."

"I see," Tajir lamented, managing to look professionally apologetic. "I didn't realise this would need an explanation. This is clearly a mistake on my part; I should have forseen that our customs would not be as immediately obvious to you as they would to one of my countrymen. Allow me to explain; the two eahirat are now yours, in perpetuity."

"They...what?" the pony asked, blinking in confusion. "They're mine in what way exactly?"

"Yours," Tajir repeated, gesturing with his hands. "Your mares, your servants, your slaves, your property, however you wish to call them. You own them now, in full title and deed, from late last night until the end of time. Unless you choose to sell them, of course. They are your property to dispose of as you see fit."

"How exactly did ah come t'own them?"

"Is it not obvious, my friend?" Tajir asked, standing up and coming around the desk to take Mac's broad shoulders in his hands. "They are my gift to you. Many of the servants you saw last night were provided to me on loan by an acquaintance of mine, and once you had pointed to me your prefered females, I saw to it at once that they would become yours. I purchased them expressly for you, all costs and deductions paid for in full and up front."

"They're gifts?" the earth pony asked, uncertain what he was feeling as he heard the news. "Why?"

Tajir chuckled at the stallion's question, patting the red male's shoulders in a friendly manner. "You are quite the remarkable stallion," he started. "You were the first Equestrian to impress me upon your arrival, and your gift was truly magnificent. I do not feel any shame in admitting that it made me feel wholly inadequate. Your open mind, your humbleness, your respect and politeness, all of it truly put the grand total of my riches to shame. I had expected ignorant foreigners to arrive in my country, and instead, I was met with a wise and commendable stallion the likes of which I am hard-pressed to find in Saddle Arabia at all. I had expected outrageous attempts to force your way into our industry, and was shown for a fool by your restraint and shrewdness. I tried to find something truly valuable enough to compensate you for your character and your personality, and all I could manage was the superficial comfort of a feast and pretty females. When we spoke last night, I was beside myself with worry that you would find me to be an unfit host." He shook his head sadly, but then his smile redoubled.

"But then came the answer I had been seeking, and your honesty was the key. You admitted to feeling unfulfilled, to being worked hard and unappreciated, to lacking that one thing in your life that you truly needed to be complete, and I understood what needed to be done. It was perhaps the one thing I was in a unique position to buy you which did not rely on simple commercial value, but on investment as well as something deeper and more meaningful. You selected your desired partners, and I did the rest. They are yours now, Mac. Yours to have and use as you see fit, to form a family and to provide for you. May they serve you well."

"A family?" the stallion asked, his awkward confusion overcoming his reluctance at piling on question after question. "But ah...ah'm a pony, and they're, well, not ponies. How could we have foals together?"

"Another serendipitous strike of fate," the horse revealed, grinning jovially. "The bridles around their faces, about which you asked last night? They have many properties, of which a few you're acquainted already, I'm sure, but all of them share a common, singular purpose; to shape the wearer into a proper female. Some females need guidance to become their true selves, some need to be aligned in behaviour and appearance to the ideal they secretly strive towards, and sometimes nature poses a barrier to partners of differing species. The bridle is Saddle Arabia's answer to these complications, and it performs exceptionally. A good female cares for her male, keeps him comforted and cared for and loved. She tends to his needs, material and otherwise, and perhaps most importantly, she continues his lineage. In order to facilitate that, the bridle ensures optimum fertility in the wearer, guaranteeing that they will bear children for their partner."

"But different species can't-"

"Not naturally, no," Tajir interrupted, acknowledging the pony's point as it arose. "But with magic, anything can be accomplished, and far more effectively than if nature were allowed to take its course. Childbirth can be a rather unpleasant affair, but the bridle makes it a swift process of utter joy and triumph. Pregnancy can be a scary and capricious time, but females who wear the bridle know only boundless excitement. Conception can be a difficult and stressful necessity, but the bridle heightens the female's fertility and makes sure that the process is pure ecstasy for all involved. And if the female happens to be a different species from her male, the bridle ensures the mating results in a successful impregnation, and the male is granted offspring of his choice of either species. Without the bridle, who is to say what might occur? Birth defects? Sickness? Weakness? We've seen to it that these defficiencies are removed."

Before Mac could ask any further questions, there was another knock on the door, and Tajir turned to answer it. Another horse peeked inside, saying something in his native tongue that Mac couldn't understand. As he and Tajir spoke about whatever had brought the servant to the room, Mac mulled over what he'd learned, uncertain as to exactly how he felt about the bout of truth. All the females he'd seen at the feast yesterday, all of the servants who had provided him food and tended to his every need without a care, all of them were stupefied by something as innocuous as a decorative garment. They were brainwashed, or drugged up - but they weren't unhappy. If what Tajir said was true, it wasn't as if there weren't upsides to this. The females he saw were all happy - exuberent, even - while he, a free stallion, was stressing and fretting about his farm, his family, whether or not he was doing the right thing by accepting this gift. He-

"Mister McIntosh," Tajir spoke up, cutting through the swirl of the pony's thoughts. "I have been informed that your sister has arrived safely at my estate. She has been escorted to your room, where she was intended to be given over to you directly. However, as you are here, she has been left there for you to meet her. I presume you would like to go and see her at once?"

Emotions surged through the big red pony, switching from shocked to relieved to nervous and back to relieved again. He let out a sigh he hadn't inhaled, and nodded affirmatively at the horse. Making sure he was presentable, he moved towards the door, followed out by Tajir, the messenger heading in the opposite direction.

"You are welcome to stay for another night, if you so please," Tajir explained, matching his guest's stride so they walked together. "If not, then I want to say that it has been an absolute pleasure to host you, and I hope you visit again soon."

"Thank you," Mac murmured, his heart thumping heavily in his chest, his nerves growing with every step he took. "Can ah ask 'bout this gift you gave me? It's...somethin', alright, an' ah'm wonderin' why you thought ah deserved it."

"Because there is simply nothing of equal value I could otherwise provide in exchange for the gift you brought me," Tajir explained, warmth exuding from his tone and smile. "Your gift to me was one nurtured by your own hands, and mine is one purchased with a section of my wealth, but both our gifts to one another are things which are long-term benefits; investments, if you will. Just as your tree will contribute to my business and shall feed my household for generations, nurturing them as they rise to greatness, these females will contribute to your family and shall provide you strong and healthy children, giving you generations to build a legacy and care for that which you build. It is, I hope, a fair exchange."

"But when ah bring them home, to Equestria, how will I be able to...won't they be seen as....aren't they...slaves?" he asked, wincing at the words. He expected to be firmly rebuked, to be told to not be so crude or insensitive, but instead, the horse snorted in amusement.

"My dear Mac, what they are is up to you. They're yours - if that makes them your slaves, your household servants, your concubines, your wives, or anything else, that is what they are."

"Ah'm just worried that ponies will think ah'm-"

"Mister McIntosh," Tajir interrupted good-naturedly and stopping in front of their destination, turning and taking hold of Mac's shoulders again. "You are a strong and powerful stallion. Your qualities are numerous and noble, and you are truly the first foreinger I consider to be my equal. Your only weakness is that you don't seize your destiny, you refuse to act like the stallion I know you are, and that I see you are. You must let go of your fear and trust that you are the master of your destiny - and of the destiny of many around you." With a comforting pat on the pony's shoulder, Tajir took hold of the door handle and turned it, creaking open the door into the lavish bedroom. With a gesture, he directed the pony to step inside. Mac took a breath and did so, his heart beating like a drum against his chest.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting. At the mention of Applejack's return, he'd entirely forgotten that the two females in his bedroom were even there, doing whatever they'd decided to do when he'd left. The thought that she might've stumbled into a room with two females acting very lewdly - a room she had undoubtedly been told was his room - had never crossed his mind. What had been even less of a thought was the idea that she'd be any less Applejack when he finally got to see her again. He'd always envisaged her grumpy, frustrated self greeting him, but as he came to a sudden stop, jaw dropping to the floor and eyes bulging, he came to realise for the first time just how unobservant and mistaken he'd been.

There were now three naked females in his room, all of them in comfortable, relaxed postures, chatting eagerly amongst themselves. When he and Tajir entered, they turned to face the newcomers, their visages bubbly and happy. It took a couple of seconds longer than it should've for him to recognise her from how much she'd changed, the differences apparent from his memory of her less than twenty four hours ago, but he'd been brought to her, and it was so obviously still her. She still had her blonde mane and orange coat, she still had her freckled face, she still had her sap green eyes, but the rest of her wasn't her. Her abs were gone, her muscled physique was gone, and her loudmouth, outspoken demeanour was noticeable - audibly - absent. She beamed at him joyously, a feminine smile without a trace of a grin or smirk, and untarnished by anger or irritation.

"Big Mac!" she called out, striding forward to hug him. He cautiously opened his arms, embracing her as she reached him and gripped him in a tight hug. It should have been tight, at least; as he held her, he could feel how soft she was, her iron musculature reduced to a necessary layer within her. "Ah've missed you so much!"

"Ah missed you too," he told her, stroking her back. "How 'bout we get you some clothes, an'-"

"Nuh-uh, don't need 'em," she answered, pulling back and smiling happily up at him. "Got special permission from these here nice stallions to do without their fancy garments." She puffed out her chest, her round breasts bared for everycreature in the room to gaze upon. She was actively proud of her nakedness, seemingly displaying the same simple satisfaction with her body that she'd always had. It was odd to see her so familiar, yet so different at the same time - and her nakedness was a mildly uncomfortable element, too.

"As you can see, she still has some backtalk to deal with," Tajir mused. "But otherwise, she is a perfectly obedient, physically and mentally attuned mare. Much of an improvement from yesterday." When he received no reply, he continued, "In my humble opinion, at least. Is everything okay, Mac?"

"What am ah gonna do?" he asked, sighing.

"Take her," Tajir replied, patting him on the back. "She is yours, improved to be a proper mare. Consider her another gift to you. All you need do is claim her. I shall leave you to go about your affairs as you see fit. If you wish to join me for dinner, you are welcome to do so."

By the time Mac found his words, the horse had left the room, the door shutting behind him and his hoofsteps fading down the corridor. Pushing his sister back a little, he looked her up and down, guaging - again - how severe the changes were. She simply posed for him, placing her hand on her hip and flicking her mane over her shoulder. She looked just like the other two; a decorative bridle morphed to the shape of her face, hugging her muzzle, and piercings through her nipples and clitoris, rings that caught the eye and marked them as owned mares. As she spoke, he'd spotted the flash of gold on her tongue, too. She wasn't Applejack anymore, not the sister he knew.

"We'll get you to Twilight," Mac declared. "She'll fix you, an' we can go back to normal."

"Fix me?" Applejack asked, sounding shocked. "Ah don't need fixin', Mac. Ah've been fixed. Like you said, ah should've listened more, not said the stuff ah did. Ah see that now; they've made me realise what ah should be doin'. Bein' uptight all the time because ah've got decisions to make? It sucks. Followin' orders? It's liberatin', freein' me from the drag of life's hardest and most pointless choices."

"They brainwashed you," he told her, running his hand through his mane. "They took you and they twisted you into somethin' that ain't you."

"Ah'm more me than ah've ever been," she rebutted, smiling disarmingly. "Ah'm cute, sexy, an' real ready to make right on what ah did wrong. Ah want this, and ah want a strong, handsome stallion to take care of me as ah take care of him. Ah'm more than ready to be a mare for you, Big Mac."

"What in the hay?" he asked, grimacing at her. "A what? For me? What are you talkin' 'bout?"

"Ah've been discussin' stuff with these girls here, an' they've been helpin' me realise some stuff. They have a lotta good things to say 'bout you, Big Mac." Her emphasis on the first part of his name was accompanied by a sultry lidding of her eyes, a sight which sent a shiver through the stallion. In disgust, he assured himself, though he didn't feel the assurance. She skulked towards him, placing one hoof deliberately in front of the other in a slow, precise walk that oozed purpose.

"You're my sister," he pointed out, instinctively taking a step back, despite her diminutive presence.

"Who better to be close to you?" she asked, walking forward until he backed against the door. Closing the distance swiftly, she ran a hand down his chest. "We're already close, an' we're already livin' under the same roof. All that changes is that ah start treatin' you like a mare should treat her stallion. An' since you're the male of the house, it's only right that ah take my place as your mare."

"But...this...we..." He couldn't get out more than a word at a time, trying to argue as to why this was wrong, but failing to produce the sentences. Did he even know why? He didn't know if he knew. All he knew was his thundering heart, the blood roaring in his ears, his flushing face, and the three females all eyeing him hungrily. He wanted something, but he didn't know what.

"But nothin', you silly pony," she giggled. Something so feminine sounded wrong coming from her, but the sound itself was angelic, and a swell of pleasure rose in his torso. "Stop bein' so stubborn an' just agree to it, already." Her hands moved to his gown's cord, tugging it open, and tried to part his gown.

"Applejack, we should talk 'bout this," he complained, pulling his gown over himself as she pulled the halves to the side, trying to maintain his modesty as much as he could.

"Nothin' to talk 'bout," she responded, reaching for a different part of the gown to shift it. She was persistent, moving to change her hold whenever he stopped her, never giving up on her quest to strip him. "You never liked words much anyhow. Wasn't that what happened when we arrived here? You said you had it hard 'cause you had to do the talkin'? Well, now there's no need for talkin', but definitely a need for somethin' hard."

She ignored his weak objections, dismissing his platitudes about it being wrong for reasons unexplained, and continuing to rub and reach, disregarding the words even he didn't believe. Thoughts swirled like a typhoon in his head, a distressed overlap of reservations, uncertainty, excitement, and apprehension. Gaia and Zemballa watched on wordlessly, observing with obvious interest, and despite the horse's absence from the room, Mac felt like Tajir was watching, too. Judging. Keeping silent and stoic as he watched the pony being manhandled by his sister, no differently than how he was verbally manhandled by her when they arrived. The strong and noble stallion, directed by his smaller, weaker sister. Applejack leapt against him, and he caught her instinctively, holding her so they were face-height. She smirked at him - smirked - and shoved her breasts into his face, shaking her torso to jiggle them teasingly at him. Mac twisted his head away, trying to remove himself from her cleavage.

"Stop bein' such a silly pony," she chided teasingly, holding his head to encourage him. "It's what you're supposed to do, Mac. Come on, you've already given it to these two good an' proper, why can't you give it to me too, hm?" She tried to dart down for a kiss, pressing her lips insistently against his.

"ENOUGH!" he roared, startling everypony in the room. She lurched back, nearly falling from his arm, his free hand having to reach back and secure her. The griffoness and zebra eeped in alarm, jumping back a few paces. "Ah am tired of you considerin' yourself better than me! Ah'm not lesser than you! You don't get to boss me around! You don't get to talk down to me! It ain't your place!" Seething, he narrowed his eyes at her. "Y'all want me to be your big bad male? Y'all want me to be the head of the household? Fine, ah will be. Y'all will listen to me now, no exceptions."

"That's what ah've been tryin' t-" Applejack began tentatively, before a snarl from her brother stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Shut up," he snapped at her. "You wanna be a mare, huh? You wanna be my toy? And ah'm the silly pony?" He snorted in disgust. Despite his mood, his blood was pumping hot and fast around his body, and his shaft had slipped free from the confines of his dressing gown, leaving him very obviously aroused to the anxious room. "Stupid fuckin' mares," he grunted, disrobing in sharp, angry jerks. "You two, get over here, get this damn thing off me."

Regardless of how scared or not they were, both his servants obeyed him immediately and without question, hurrying to his side to help the gown from his shoulders and body. When it was off, they stepped back, but he stopped them with a hand. Pulling the zebra towards him, he shoved her down onto her knees, her task clear. Applejack watched in awe as the stallion directed them to service him, having the zebra take his crown and as much of his shaft as she could muster, while the griffon leaned under to lick at his hanging fruit. The stallion let out a grunt and a sigh, showing his approval, before he looked at the mare in his arms again. She swallowed, intimidated by the gruffness and raw power he exuded.

Without a word, he took one of her nipples into his mouth, his hand grasping at the other, and set about playing with them, tugging and pinching, using his teeth and fingers to great effect. She whimpered, grasping him more tightly, and in turn, he grasped and gripped her harder. His tongue swirled around her ring, curling through the hoop to tug it before returning to lapping at her areola, feeling out where the flesh merged with fur. His fingers pinched, pulling at the metal and the density of her brown bud, dragging it as far as her supple tit would allow before letting go. When she hissed in discomfort, he lessened his pressure, but returned to that point to hear her hiss again, finding her limits so he could explore and enjoy them. He switched breasts, evening out his approach, and giving her tender side a chance to recover while he visited the same treatment upon the one he'd just suckled.

Pulling back once both of the tits were properly treated, he grunted at Zemballa and Gaia to get out of his way, waiting for them to scutter back towards the bed before he turned and shoved Applejack against the stone wall, ignoring her oof as the breath momentarily left her. Reaching down, he guided his shaft towards her thick lower lips, brushing against their leathery, elastic surface and snorting in amusement at her shudder of delight.

"Beg for it," he commanded.

"P-please," she whimpered, biting her lip. "Dick me down good, Mac. Ah need it, more than anythin' ah've ever needed before."

"Why do you need it?"

"Because ah'm a slutty mare whose place is being stuffed by strong stallions," she answered. "My only purpose is to take commands an' take dick."

"But you'll only be takin' my dick, wontchu?"

"Yes!" she breathed. "Ah'll only ever take your dick, Mac."

"Who's a silly pony?" He brushed his glans against her labia, her nethers sweltering and soaked from their foreplay. She barely suppressed a moan at his movements, the spongiest part of his cock still hard enough to set her nerves aflame.

"....Ah am?"

"Say it."

"Ah'm a silly pony."

"Louder." His tip brushed her clit, and she gasped, quaking at the warmth that blossomed through her entire body.

"Ah'm a silly pony!"

"Keep sayin' it."

"Ah'm a silly pony! Ah'm a silly pony! Ah'm-"

She screamed as he thrust in, her pussy clenching like a vice around the sudden intruder, burying himself in three quick shoves. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she came hard, crying out as the sudden orgasm overtook her body. The stallion held her against the wall, her tunnel rippling against his shaft, trying to milk him for all he was worth. He ignored it, struggling to pull out of her contracting canal and battling the insistent hold of her legs, managing only a few inches at a time. As she wound down, he was able to start thrusting again, sawing back and forth at a good pace, taking her at his own intermediate speed.

"You're a silly pony an' a dirty whore," he told her, stretching her unexplored depths around his demanding girth. "Now you're bein' taken by your own brother because you ain't nothin' but a dirty whore."

"Dirty whore," she repeated, running her hands through his mane. "Ah'm a dirty whore. Ah'm your dirty whore, Big Mac!"

"Master," he corrected, growling the term at her. "Address me properly, whore."

"Ah'm your dirty whore, master!" the orange mare proclaimed, squeaking as he delivered heavy thrusts into her, slamming forward in sharp, powerful shoves. With the wall behind her, there was nowhere for her to go, no way for her to get away from the spearing as he rammed himself into her depths, striking at her insides like a hammer on an anvil. The force was amazing, the sheer roughness of it heightening the simple pleasure of being stuffed and filled, her nerves blazing from the friction and the presence of a hot, throbbing slab of meat inside her. She was doing what she was supposed to do; what she was made to do. The friction built up quickly, igniting the volatile pressure inside her and sending her careening into another body-wracking release, her muscles tightening as lightning surged through her, crying out as she clamped around the stallion claiming her.

Mac didn't stop as she spiralled, thrusting into her contracting cunny and pushing her to greater heights. Her orgasm persisted, fuelled by his pounding, until his cock had been wrung enough by her desperate attempts to milk him, and he pulled out completely. She began to whine, unwilling to end their vicious passion, but he detached her limbs from around him and lowered her to the floor, her cushiony behind absorbing the impact. Without any warning, he brought his flare to her lips and slammed forward, shoving his length into her mouth and ignoring her startled yelp, grabbing her head to stop her pulling back as he jerked his hips in sharp, short jabs. She gagged, strained as he pulled her towards his crotch, her throat forced to accommodate his girth without any buildup or warmup, barely able to fit half his length. It didn't take long before he blew, grabbing her ears and holding her in place as he shot volleys of cream straight into her stomach, grunting as each pulse rippled through his shaft, ejecting thick spurts into her unready gullet.

"Is that what you're going to do to me, master?" Zemballa asked hopefully as Mac stepped back, retracting himself from Applejack's maw. Thick strings of saliva came with him, bridging the orange mare's muzzle to his pipe, snapping as his swaying cock moved too far and fast for them to keep their integrity, splatting against the orange earth pony's throat and chest. She gasped for air, hacking and coughing, tears rolling from her eyes at the brutal treatment. In spite of it all, when she wiped her muzzle with her wrist and looked up, she was beaming, loving what she'd just been exposed to.

"Nope," the stallion answered, striding over to the zebra. "Get on the edge of the bed, on your back. As much as ah love your dick-suckin' and amazin' ass, ah've got another plan for you. Spread your legs. Gaia, stand over her."

The two mares smiled, happily jumping up and obeying his commands without question. As he stepped towards the bed, a hand touched at his hoof, and he looked down to see his sister trying to regain her breath, her chest rising and falling in heaving gasps.

"An' me, m-master?" she asked, her voice rough and raspy. "Where do ah go?"

"You don't," he answered. "Sit an' watch; you're gonna learn what a good whore does, an' if ah feel generous, maybe ah'll give you another go."

"Y-yes, master." Her disappointment was palpable as she let go of his leg, but she didn't try and argue, instead looking on dejectedly as she was refused proper participation.

"You really like watching her eat me out while you slide your fat dick into her cock-pocket, master," Gaia observed, her words slathered with lustful approval.

"Ah do," he admitted, unceremoniously guiding his messy, spit-coated crown to the striped mare's thick black teardrop and pushing into her, pulling a whimper from her as he did. "But that ain't what we're doin'. Not this time." Sheathing himself fully, he set a rhythm and let it run its course, swivelling his hips in a smooth, automated cycle, his attention almost entirely on the griffon. Pulling her in close, his lips sealed around one of her stiff buds, the stallion suckling shamelessly at her teat, his cheeks hollowing from the thorough effort he was putting into his job. With his free hand, he grasped her unattended boob, groping her pliant pillow with a familiar certainty, his fingers sinking into her flesh as if it were foam. The presence of the rings was far too distracting and tempting for him to not pay any attention to, and he made use of their presence to tease and toy with the griffoness, tugging on the metal with his teeth and his fingers, switching from pulling and biting at her engorged points to exert his power over her through her jewellery. There was something exciting and powerful about adding inanimate material into the dynamic, keeping her just that little bit removed from him, a symbol as well as a practice of his control over her.

If Gaia had been sitting on Zemballa's face, the griffon would've been the loudest of the two purely from muffling her only competitor, but with her standing upright, the zebra's voice was free to fill the room. Squeaks and squeals, huffs and hums, gasps and groans, all from Mac's repetitive, unending rotation, his confident pace fast enough to make her feel his every movement, and steady enough to not wear her out too quickly. His size reached every part of her, stretching her around him, firing up her nerves and caressing her insides with a passion that exuded control and tenderness at the same time, and she let everyone in the room know just how wonderful it was. Some of her exclamations were sentences and words, or simple utterances of 'master', while others were just noises which conveyed as much - if not more - than anything language could achieve. Her legs wrapped around his waist, begging him to not remove even an inch of his glory from her, desperately trying to pull him back in as he sawed and pumped.

The climax was a slow burn by comparison to yesterday's rapacious sprint towards release, but it was still a satisfyingly simple journey to get the mare over the edge. Her voice grew louder and heavier, her excitement filling her tone, and her contractions became regular and rhythmic, signalling well in advance that she was on her way to finishing. When she peaked, it was a normal, run-of-the-mill panting squeal, and then an elongated groan, her marehood rippling and squeezing his pistoning pride. Mac felt it was a good milestone by which to judge his activity, and pulled his mouth away from Gaia's breasts for the last time, giving both a final smooch to summarise the play, and kissed down her belly to her pelvis.

Gaia gasped and chirped as the pony's lips sealed around her clit, his suckling no less enthusiastic than when he'd been playing with her chest, his tongue lashing at the pierced organ with a controlled precision that shone through in spite of the strength and speed he displayed. Like he'd done before, he tugged at the ring, evoking a squeak from the griffoness at the intensity of the movement, the simple act sparking the spot he'd touched. Greedily, he wrapped his arm around her upper thighs, squishing the flesh of her butt as he lifted her towards him, exposing her loins for him to taste and feast upon. He was relentless, slurping at her muff with abandon, reaching from one end of her slit to the other before returning his focus on her pleasure-centre, his all-encompassing technique soon driving her to a quaking climax, her claws running through his mane as she sung his praises.

Zemballa finished three times before Mac did, and Gaia was so close to her third that his grunting and groaning was enough to send her over with him. Like the zebra, his climb was linear and predictable, a set journey with a known arrival time, and so his end was standard and unremarkable, even if it was still amazing. He thrusted throughout, spilling his load into the gasping zebra and smearing the hot gush against her walls with the same pulsing piece pushing the cream into her. With his muzzle pressed against the griffoness' twat, his exhalations and instinctive, rumbling groan was felt in full, the vibrations stimulating her sensitive little clitty and nudging her into a leg-shaking release, fresh juice dribbling onto his lips and tongue. The three of them remained in place, joined together until all of them were satisfied.

"Good girl," Mac huffed, letting go of Gaia and leaning down to kiss the zebra, his tongue sliding past her lips to give her a taste of the feathered woman's nectar. Zemballa whimpered, tightening her leg-lock around him, delighting in the taste of her friend mixed with her master's. Mac himself was reluctant to break the kiss, but knew he had to - it was his responsibility, after all. "Damn wish ah could slide my dick into your throat an' bust a fat load down there, or play with your ass until I ruin you forever. Ah reckon you wouldn't take long to make me nut, would ya?"

"I-I hope not, master," the zebra answered, blushing adorably. "Is my butt really that tight and f-fuckable, master?"

"Ain't no mare ah'd rather take," he told her, biting her bottom lip playfully. "An' your throat technique is like bein' sucked by a goddess. Unfortunately, we ain't got time to give you the chance to show off. Budge up. AJ, get over here, now!"

"Is it my turn, master?" she asked, eyes brimming with excitement and hope. She appeared at his side immediately, desperate for his attention and approval.

"No," he told her, watching her face fall. "You get t'see just how a good mare takes it. Lay on your back in the middle of the bed. Gaia, on your knees, head 'tween her legs."

"Oooh, a good choice, master," the griffoness complimented, taking Zemballa's place in front of the stud, presenting her rounded ass to the stallion and waiting for the newest addition to their group to do her part. "Z's better at this than I am, on account of her muzzle and lips, y'know? But I'll give it 200%, master! It'll be the best muff-munching she's ever had!"

"Ah've never tried it before," Applejack admitted as she crawled onto the bed and turned onto her back, blushing a bright red even as she smiled. Gaia gasped in excitement, eyes gleaming with anticipation and her smile bright and wide.

"What an amazing opportunity!" the griffon squealed, nuzzling the pony's calf. "Spread those legs for me, babe. I'm so thirsty."

Applejack's gasp came just as the stallion parted the griffoness' slit with his glans, pulling a groan from the feathered slut that Mac felt was timed perfectly. As he slipped inside her, gliding easily into her ready passage, she focused her attention on fulfilling her master's orders, attentively running her small tongue up and down the dark labia in front of her, the scent of horny mare undoubtedly thick in her nostrils. It couldn't have been easy to continue with her duty, but she stuck at it, valiantly licking and lapping like a good girl should, tasting the newest female with an obvious delight as her master filled her with his abundance, his sheath pressing demandingly at her mons and his hands gripping at her waist, holding her rear end up so he could delve as deep as he could into her depths. He didn't stay still for long, exactly as she'd wanted; as soon as he had the angle and the penetration set, he drew back and began a rhythm, rapidly accelerating to something heavy and harsh.

"Master," Gaia whined happily, the single word broken over several syllables by his unrepentant hammering, his groin slamming noisily into her natural padding and using it to slow his momentum. The rest of her words were spoken into Applejack's pussy, muffled and incomprehensible from his position, but still audible enough over the fleshy slaps of their bodies to show how much she loved his roughness. It didn't matter what she said; it was clear she wanted, needed, him to keep pounding her like she was nothing but a sex toy, to truly use her for one of her only purposes in this world. As long as he was taking her, treating her as an object for his enjoyment, she was fulfilled and happy. He did exactly that.

"She eatin' good?" he asked, directing the question at the writhing mare in front of his cocksleeve. From the way his sister's hands were roaming over Gaia's head, running through her crest and gripping at her urgently, it was already apparent what the orange pony's answer would be.

"S-so good," Applejack answered in a groan, sucking in air to keep her constant whimper and moans going. "P-please, p-play with my-" She broke off into a squeal as the griffoness turned her oral attention to the mare's clit, lapping at the sizable protrusion, deftly flicking her muscle around the metal of the piercing and swiping at it directly. "K-keep goin', sugarcube, ah...oh, please, please...PLEASE!" She arched her back, gyrating against Gaia's face, her pleasure peaking swiftly. Several seconds later, she came hard, groaning and squeaking as the orgasm rolled through her, enduring the ceaseless licking as she throbbed and pulsed, her vulva and dense bud winking in time to her contractions.

"Such an easy slut," Mac grunted, laughing at the display. "Still ain't as good as this slut here." He puctuated his point with a resounding slap to Gaia's ass, knowing she could handle the impact. It was heavy, her jiggle feeling solid from the speed and weight of his palm walloping into her globe, and she let out a short scream from just how hard he hit her, but the squeeze of her honeypot, and the beads that rolled down his nuts, told him just how much she loved it. "She's tight, she's willin', she's capable, an' she's got a killer body. Proper meat on her bones, cushion for the pushin', everything a mare should have." The words came easy, sounding natural to him, a perfect fit for the depravity of what he was doing. Saying them gave him a rush he'd never felt before, a sort of freedom and pride he'd only have been able to imagine before now. "Damn, this ass is just- fuck!" He spanked his slut again, grinning as she whimpered, and quaked.

"Sh-she's perfect," his sister agreed. "Sh-she's...f-fuck..." The rapidity of Mac's fucking pushed the spitroasted slave against AJ's mound, her beak slipping into the open gate sometime during the endless ravaging. The griffon's tongue reached out, swirling around the dripping walls surrounding her beak. "You feel so g-good..."

"She's damn good," Mac agreed, spanking the griffoness again. His long, swift strokes sent his balls swinging full-pelt into her clit, beating her tiny bump and drawing more juices from her cute grove, their loins soiled with the affluent product of their vigour. "Takes cock like a champ. Much better than you do. From what ah see, she knows how t'use her mouth better, too. Is there anythin' you can do, Applejack?"

"Ah..." She trailed off, pouting at the accusation. "Ah'm sorry," she said at last. "Ah c-can do better. Ah promise."

"You'd better," Mac warned, bring his hand down sharply on Gaia's butt again, and again, repeating his slaps on one cheek and then the other, alternating with as much fluidity as he could. His effort were rewarded with the climbing pitch of the griffon's squeaks, her stifled vocalisations ascending to an urgent, desperate level, signalling to him that every strike was raising her towards her release. A final hit sent her over the edge, her cunny clamping down and her whine escalating into a shriek as he dug his fingers into her waist and upped his pace to a blur, driving her orgasm onward. The trembling set off his sister, her second orally-induced climax arriving with a simple groan and an arched back, her hands pulling Gaia's head closer against her mons.

How the winged whore could keep servicing the orange pony after her brutal affection was an arousing mystery to Mac, who followed up his jackhammering with a series of slow, aggressive thrusts, his hips crashing against her rear with an ear-splitting SMACK that overshadowed the power he'd put into his spanks. She screamed in joy at his effort, uttering a delighted 'master' after every spark-inducing thrust - at least, that's what it sounded like with her head still buried between his sister's thighs, dutifully tonguing the groaning mare. Between the two females, there was enough utterances, verbal and non-verbal, to understand just how good they felt. Ten harsh slams were enough, he decided, and so resumed his long strokes, starting slower to vary her experience, interspersed with far shorter and faster flurries of pussy-pounding. It didn't take her long to cum again.

The big red stallion deliberately waited until Applejack was getting close before he allowed himself to finish, slowing down and tugging at Gaia's tail to keep up their play without driving himself over the edge, or reaching down to toy with the ring hanging from her overly sensitive nub. When all three of them were either on the rising crest of an orgasm or on the heels of one, he barked his sister's name, making sure she was looking at him, and locked eyes with her, gritting his teeth as he pulsed and pumped his nut into the wailing griffoness. He didn't stop moving even after he'd stopped throbbing, his stream drying up to a dribble, slowing down gradually until he'd properly spread his jizz over her walls. She couldn't hide her lust at his actions, falling back into the throes of climax right after it began to fade, and another after that.

"All th-three of you," he announced, wheezing a little, but quickly regaining his breath. "Hands an' knees. Facin' away from me." Pulling out of his cumsleeve, he waited impatiently for his property to arrange itself, the three mares adjusting to better suit his wishes. Gaia was a mess, her cunt gaping from his recent ravaging, the pink flesh covered in goopey white effluence, her walls trying to pull back together into a more natural resting state. Zemballa had had time to recover, and her inviting garden looked particularly appealing to him, her tail raised onto her back to give him a proper, unrestricted view. With his junk twitching at his immediate, involuntary decision, he stepped over to her, his hooves clacking loudly on the floor as he strutted over with purpose.

He didn't try to be gentle, pushing in as soon as his crown met the widest part of her teardrop, the elastic, leathery black giving way to satin-soft pink. His messy cock sheathed itself in her twat once again, at home in her sodden depths, and she cried out softly in wanton delight. With his hands on her hips, he sawed back and forth, picking up his pace until he was satisfied that it was right. Her body reacted with approval at his movements, squeezing down encouragingly, her breaths shoved from her as he battered her box, his groin smashing against her vulnerable, athletic butt. It was far less padded than Gaia's, offering her little protection from his rightful wrath, but the way she whined and moan and whimpered and uttered her praise for his glorious, magnificent cock made it clear that his roughness was always welcome, now and forever.

The stallion grasped at her braids, tugging her head back as he pounded the small, lithe mare, her pert backside suffering the full impact of his body-battering thrusts, her quim hugging his shaft as it rocketed into her depths and ground against her passageway. She was jolted forward with every slam of his groin against her butt, rocked forward and pulled back into him so he could shove her forward again, ravaging her wonderfully tight but oh-so-accommodating hole, shaping her canal with every drive of his hips into a mould of his cock, and feeling her velvet walls squeeze lovingly down on him as he did. Her wailing, already loud and constant, rose to a tempest, the noisiest the meek mare had ever been, and her tunnel clamped down on him more tightly and insistently, until her tension unwound and she screamed out his name, quaking and splashing his muscular thighs with her nectar.

Leaving her to collapse onto the bed as her orgasm diffused, still shaking, Mac pulled out of her slippery grove and moved to his griffon, grasping her buttocks and squeezing roughly, feeling the give of her supple, well-rounded rear. She shook her ass for him, offering a little bounce as he let go so he could see the jiggle her padding afforded. His response was a heavy smack, spanking her loudly enough to compete with her yelp. Guiding his plateau into the shadow of her caboose, he sought out her slit, finding the soaked groove without any difficulty, and sliding in with the same casual demand as he had the zebra. Gaia shuddred, her back arching as his full length bottomed out inside her, shaping her vagina to perfectly ensconce him, the watery remnants of his last spillage pushed with a soft, wet bubbling around his sheath.

His hammering began immedaitely, the force of his blows ripping through her rump and up her curvaceous body, showing off the strength of his pounding to anycreature who couldn't figure it out already. Of course, the sound alone was enough to demonstrate his unbridled power, the whap-whap-whap emnating from their colliding bodies without so much as a pause between the wallops. A broad hand closed around her tail, grasping it like a leash, and he pulled her back to deepen the penetration, wordlessly demanding she do more. Obediently, the griffoness rocked backwards, taking over most of the effort and impaling herself over and over on his shaft, gladly clapping her cheeks against his abs and moaning whenever he impatiently yanked her back to coax her to move faster and harder, unsatisfied with merely a spectacular job; he wanted her best.

Between the sharp twinge in her lower back with every harsh tug of her tail, the feeling of his unyielding body against hers every time he bottomed out, and the sheer sensation of being filled by his meat, Gaia found herself peaking quickly. She slipped a claw under herself, flicking her bean in a hurried attempt to drive herself over the edge. A punishing swat to her rear stopped her, the stallion moving his own rough fingers between her legs to do the job for her. Returning to her claws and knees, the griffoness whimpered, panting heavily and letting out chirps as her master strummed her diamond-hard pleasure centre, her climax rushing towards her like flame roaring through a tunnel. With a bellowing caw, she came, her body tensing and her wings shooting out to the side, tremors wracking her body. A splash hit Mac's fingers, making his toying that much easier and sloppier. By the time he was done, her arms were shaking, barely holding her up.

One more to go.

"Eyes forward," he barked at his sister, growling threateningly as she turned her head to watch his approach. She snapped her head forward again, casting her eyes downward in shame. "Y'ain't got the right to look at me just yet." His palms slid over her rear, feeling the soft curves of her ass. He hadn't gotten a good look at them before, never feeling the need, but he'd distinctly remembered her friend's butts from the amount of time they spent around one another; Pinkie's was huge and jiggly, Rarity's was round and respectable, and by comparison, AJ had seemed normal, at least to him. Again, he'd never felt the need to look - but now he could appreciate just how much better it was like this. The orange mare yelped as he swatted her ass, a slap to each of her pillows, and the stallion snorted in disdain, kneading her flesh and drawing a series of stifled whimpers and needy moans.

"Ah ain't even done nothin' yet," he admonished her, spreading her cheeks wide to give himself a better view of her treasure. "Gaia here took a hit ten times harder than that, an' you're squealin' like a pig already. Zemballa had t'put up with me splittin' her in two with basically nothin' to lessen the impact, an' she ain't moanin' like you are. Hay, you're already whinin' like a filly goin' through her first heat, an' all ah've done is touch this fat ass of yours." He swatted her again, chuckling at her squeak. "What does that say 'bout you?"

"That ah'm really sensitive, master?" she suggested. "Ah'm new to this, an' you're just so good, an'-" Another blow to her reddening rear shut her up quickly, and she fell silent at his unspoken command.

"All wrong," he informed her, tracing his thumb over the circuit of her labia, following the track from her ponut to her clit and around again, letting her shiver at the gentle touch. Her large nub winked at him as he passed, her parted tunnel dripping with need and stringy effluence, her femlube thick from the sheer desperation, the imperative to be taken and claimed by a strong male. "It tells me you're a mare who's always had it easy, thinkin' you could just go an' do whatever took your fancy, while ah had to do all the work."

"Th-that ain't fair, master." She howled as he spanked her hard, refusing to hold back. The pain took a while to blossom into pleasure.

"You ran off on adventures with your friends," he growled at her. "You treated me like ah was just some safety net so you could do whatever took your fancy, while ah had to plow the fields an' take care of the house! Ah wasn't asked, ah was told to shut up an' do what was best for the family, while you set your sights on bein' a hero! You didn't check to see if ah was okay when ah was up all night harvestin', while you an' Apple Bloom galavanted around the farm tryin' to find the Great Seedling! You never had to grow up, an' ah had to be the loyal, quiet brother gettin' everythin' done! Ah had to shoulder the responsibility, an' you got all the credit!"

With an angry grunt, he speared into her sopping snatch, sheathing himself fully in her sinfully tight hole. As she clamped around him, surprised by his rough, sudden intrusion, her body heat seeped into his shaft, warming and comforting him. Snatching her tail, he started pounding her roughly, without any compunction, fueled by his fury and compelled by how right it felt to take her like this, her body welcoming his violation as if he was the most welcome guest in the world. His sister cried out, struggling to remain upright as he furiously pumped away, technique lost to the simple need to throw his groin forward, to bury his cock as far and fast as he could into her pocket.

"Gaia's ass is better," he sneered, yanking the blonde tail in his grasp. "She's a better fuck than you are, she knows how t'move. Zemballa can suck a dick like nopony's business - what're you good for?" He heaved her tail sharply towards him, pulling her back into his crotch with a loud WHACK and burying his trunk in her cunt, striking her cervix and sending a jolt through both of them. Applejack screamed, spasming at the strange pleasure and the resulting climax, a rush of fluids messing the fur of Mac's groin and legs.

"Ah-ah'm s-sorry, m-master," she answered as soon as she was able, gyrating involuntarily against his entombed member, the aftershocks of her release still passing through her. She whimpered as her sensitive walls squeezed around his turgidity, doing nothing but sparking her nerves as they came into contact with his concrete hardness. "Ah-ah'll get better, ah p-promise."

"Yes, you will," he emphasised, grabbing a fistful of her mane and pulling her head back, the mare grunting in discomfort. His hips began their rotations again, his shaft dragging against her recently-recovered walls, filling up her ardour once again. "You've been a pain in my plot for years, AJ. You've been rude to me when ah've tried to help, you've been rude t'others who've tried to help, you've refused to see what you're doin' wrong, an' most of all, you nearly sabotaged our meetin' here."

"Ah said ah w-was sorry," she groaned, trying to sound sincere as the stallion ravaged her twat. "Ah'm sorry, master!"

"Ain't good 'nough," he grunted, upping his pace again, letting the sound of slapping bodies fill the room, joined by the mare's squeals and moans, the noises mixing into a lewd mess that reached towards an innevitable conclusion. With a final exhaling groan, Applejack clenched tight around her master's cock and shook, femcum streaming down her legs and adding a wetter sound to the already sloppy slaps. When he let go of her mane, she fell onto her face, harmlessly bouncing off the bedsheets.

"Ah-ah'm a silly pony," she huffed as she was pulled back onto all fours, the firm hands roaming over her chest and copping a feel of her bust. "Ah'm a dumb, stupid pony who needs to do better for you, master. Ah-" Her statement was cut off by a squeal as his finger and thumb trapped one of her nipples, pinching the dark, thick bud and rolling it possessively, pulling and tugging with a careless, experimental interest. Bringing his other hand around to her unattended tit, he cupped her bosom, holding her mounds and kneading them as his movements started up again, the slide of his drenched dick frictionless against her walls. He grasped and groped, palming and playing with her pierced puppies, leaning over her to better feel what he now owned.

If his mammary massage was magical, then his fingers dipping down to brush at the pearl between her legs was divine. Her eyes rolled back, and she couldn't hold herself up any longer. As she fell to the bed, he followed her down, his weight settling atop her, a comforting and domineering presence that did as much to fill her with an ecstatic warmth as his throbbing tool and his attentive hands and digits. She huffed and panted, her face flushed from the myriad of sources of pleasure, the feeling of belonging as she was stimulated and just treated like an object - albeit a cherished one - sending her soaring to new heights, climbing higher and higher. His thrusts were short and sharp, hitting all of her spots, his loins smashing her big bouncy butt, and-

He growled hotly in her ear, pinching on her nipple hard and working his fingertips across her clit furiously for a few seconds before he drew his hips back, grasped hold of her, and delivered several ravishing thrusts, finishing his marathon with a sprint. His flare stretched her wide, his nuts retracted towards his groin, and he tensed and let out a loud, feral grunt, burying himself as deep into her as possible and letting his tool pulse and pump, his seed surging along his cumvein and erupting into the helpless mare beneath him. His hips jerked, small rotations to try and eek out that little bit of extra pleasure, his body working on autopilot as his mind flashed with lights and shapes and colours he couldn't put names to. He felt oddly detached from his body, the intensity of his orgasm seperating his attention from his ejaculation and the vice-tight wringing of his slave's own finish, her juices saturating the bedsheets and his own coat. The heat of it all, the sticky pool he ejected into her, all of it was dwarfed by the satisfaction of how right what he'd just done was. He rode that wave longer than his cock twitched and oozed thick, virile jizz deep into Applejack's womb, his chest against her back and their crotches joined intimately.

"Master?"

He registered somepony was speaking to him, and opened his eyes, realising just how out of it he'd been. He became aware of his deep breathing, his capacious lungs drawing in great drags of oxygen following the momentuous end of what was undoubtedly the best session he'd ever had in his life. The voice had come from right next to him, and he noted the hot breath on his cheek. Turning his head, he saw the flushed cheeks of his sister glancing at him, her eyes tired. Maybe it was his imagination, but her pupils looked a little like love hearts.

"AJ," he greeted, nuzzling her cheek softly. "Good girl."

"Ah love you." She kissed his cheek adoringly. "Ah truly love you."

"Ah love you too," he told her. "An'...ah forgive you." He moved his arms to ensconce her, wrapping her in a loving embrace. "Just remember your place from now on."

"Ah will," she promised, sighing in contentment.

Smiling, the stallion rolled the two of them onto their sides. "You two, get over here. Y'ain't gettin' out of cuddlin'."

"Wouldn't dream of it, master," Gaia commented, happily laying down behind him, her breasts squashed against his muscular back. "It's not every day I get to cuddle with three other gorgeous creatures."

"It's nice," Zemballa agreed, joining on the other side, face-to-face with Applejack. They smiled, exchanging a soft, affectionate peck on the lips, and intertwined their limbs, wanting to be as close as they could. "I feel...loved."

"Me too," Gaia agreed.

"Me three," Applejack chuckled.

"Y'all are," the stallion told them, sandwiched between his three slaves. "Ah love y'all. When we get home, maybe we'll make it official. Who knows. Somethin' to think 'bout." He yawned, pulling Applejack and Zemballa closer. "Ah say we have a nap, figure it out later."

The others agreed, his yawn setting them off too, their soft murmurs of appreciation fading into a gentle silence, the room filled with the ambience of their soft breathing. The sheets were soaked with their fluids, the air was thick with the smell of their activity, and their minds were at peace.

Sleep came easily.