How to Make Them Spill Their Guts

by Non Uberis

Rating: mature
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Fetish, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Other, Thriller, Porn, Sex, Profanity, Big Macintosh, Violence, Death, Alternate Universe, Anthro, Nightmare Moon
Length: 7659

A prisoner is resistant to the usual interrogation methods. Nightmare Moon steps in to personally oversee the operation.

It is quite regrettable that there are ponies in Equestria who remain opposed to Nightmare Moon's rule. Inevitably, some rebellious souls are captured and taken in for questioning about their motives. Most are beaten into submission by the soldiers of the Night Guard before long, but sometimes there are those who prove to be particularly obdurate.

One such stallion, after days of resistance, is visited in his cell by none other than the Mistress herself.

= = = = =

This story is a continuation of the events of Pride and Punishment.

Contains the following: anthro, brutality, torture, intersex, hyper, fat/BBW, whipping/paddling, masturbation, orgasm denial, sadism and masochism, boobjob, cum, and arbitrary lack of a given name.

Caution: The death in this story is largely offscreen/implied but a death nonetheless, be warned.

Written as an entry for Dezmo's NSFW Contest.

Cover art by Kevinsano. (DB ID 1531768)

The Onyx and Ivory Series:
Night Service
Pride and Punishment
How to Make Them Spill Their Guts

Published 2022-08-23 15:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-08-23 15:20:01 UTC

Special Interrogation Methods

There was definitely a crack that time when the fist smashed against his chest.

“Come on,” the guard in midnight blue snarled at him.

He grunted and wheezed but said nothing, continued to stare straight into the slitted eyes of his interrogator, which glared back with acidic fury.

“Come on!” she barked again, nearly frothing at the mouth with spittle. “Say…some…thing!” Each syllable punctuated a punch to his gut.

The stallion coughed each time, retched, feeling bile rise in his gorge, but there was nothing left inside him; he had already thrown up what paltry meals they’d given him, adding to the reek of the room. He faltered, weakness putting its cold hands upon him, strangling him. His head lolled limply under its own weight. The stringy strands of his carrot-orange mane fell over his face, and he dimly saw the droplets of blood tinging his red fur, trickling over the bridge of his muzzle. Everything was sore, and it wasn’t the kind of soreness he could take pride in, the kind that came from a hard day’s work in the sun. Oh how he missed the sun.

Another blow to the shoulder broke him out of his thoughts, and this time he nearly cried out. It was the same shoulder that had been dislocated in the struggle that ensued when he broke out of his bonds two days ago (or, at least, what felt like two days ago) and it had barely had time to heal. He wasn’t sure the medics had even properly set it, either as another form of punishment or out of sheer incompetence. The chains they now had to tie him to the chair didn’t chafe as badly as the ropes had, but the iron was a harsher reminder of his imprisonment.

“Stardust,” came the guttural tone of the other guard. He was bigger than his comrade in arms and looked a whole lot nastier too, a scar running from the corner of his muzzle over his eye, a pale sliver etched into his dark coat, yet all this time he’d done nothing but watch.

“Don’t you start!” Stardust shouted shrilly, whirling about to jab an accusing finger at him, almost looking ready to turn her fists upon him instead. “I’m not done yet!”

“You’re going to want to be done before the boss comes down here,” he growled at her unflinchingly, “which, I would remind you, is going to be any minute.” This one struck the bloodied stallion as being more honor-bound, obeying his duty to the letter, but that wasn’t saying much in the context of the Night Guard.

She looked from one of the stallions to the other and back again. Even through her bulky blue armor it was clear that she was breathing heavily, seething with rage, her leathery wings flaring in and out. It appeared briefly that she was starting to still, to calm down, but the prisoner knew better than to get his hopes up. Sure enough, a moment later she turned and swung in one motion, shrieking as she brought her fist into his cheek. Stars flashed, and by the time his vision refocused he was starting to tilt, the blow having been forceful enough to knock him and the chair over. The impact when the other side of his head hit the floor was even harder.

“I hope she cuts your balls off,” Stardust hissed at him before stalking out of the room. Before she went through the door, he caught her wincing while she rubbed her knuckles. “Son of a whore, it’s like trying to punch a rock.”

The other guard spared him only a glance before leaving as well. He didn’t contribute to the brutality, but he certainly wasn’t lifting a finger to do anything about it either.

They left the door open. Were they so confident that he wasn’t going to make another escape? He’d love to prove them wrong, but with his arms and legs chained to those of the old chair there wasn’t much he could have done. The arm that he was leaning against was digging into his side painfully, the dull metal like a rusty knife poised to break the skin.

(like the knife that—)

His breath seized in his throat and his eyes clenched shut until the thoughts passed.

There were hoofsteps outside.

“Your majesty,” the male guard said, presumably alongside a salute.

And then a new voice spoke, one that rippled with authority even in such short statements: “What’s that?”

There was a sputtering from Stardust. “Wh-what?”

“On your hand there.” The voice sounded mirthful, but it was mirth concealing a sinister intent. “Did you spill strawberry jam all over yourself?”

“I-I…” The mare was breathing heavily again. “Mistress, I swear, I only wanted to act in your will to—”

“Enough.” There was a momentary silence in which it seemed that everything had frozen. “My will was that he was to be left in isolation. We will discuss the repercussions of your actions later. Umber, is there anything new?”

“No, ma’am,” he replied promptly, “there has been no change in the prisoner’s behavior, nor has he spoken a single word. He continues to be resistant to our methods.”

“I see. Very well. You are dismissed, then, I will take over from here.”

And then Nightmare Moon walked into the interrogation room, a towering shadow veiled in a nebula of swirling stars.

He had seen her occasionally, during the official visits she made to Ponyville. She always smiled in good cheer while she spoke about her grand plans for funding the town’s infrastructure. Many of the townfolk cheered, but many also took note of the midnight guards standing around the square. The reception was never quite as great as it had been for Princess Celestia’s visits, or even one of Mayor Mare’s public addresses, but nopony dared to outright boo her.

One time, the dark alicorn had paid a personal visit to the farm, but he hadn’t met with her. His sister handled the proceedings while he had prepared to evacuate with the rest of the family. In the end, though, it had turned out that she was only stopping by to inquire about purchasing some of the family’s cider stock. The oldest and finest that they had on hand, naturally. They were in no position to deny her.

No, the first time he had personally stood directly before her was after he had been captured. They dragged him to her throne in chains and he had looked up at her—much in the same way that he was now—and felt the true terror of her icy gaze, the awesome power of her magic radiating from her in an aura of dread. She spoke to him, but he said nothing, just as he had when the guards had bellowed at him. At that time, though, it hadn’t been so much a result of strength of will, as his current resistance efforts were, as much as being too drained to do much of anything. In that moment, he had been prepared to accept the death that he was certain she would bring upon him. But, instead, he found himself here, waiting in limbo for the end.

He wondered what she was going to do. He wasn’t sure that a simple farmhand could have imagined the capabilities of a veritable goddess. Unicorn magic was something he was scarcely familiar with to begin with; alicorn magic was on a whole different level. Getting dogpiled by a half-dozen guards all over again suddenly seemed a whole lot more preferable.

Or maybe it was something different that had him worried—the most infamous aspect of Nightmare Moon following her return to Equestria. The half-skirt of her dress didn’t exactly make it subtle, but at this low angle it was all too easy to focus upon the girth that hung between her legs, cradled within a capacious thong. It made him all the more conscious of the feeling of air and cool metal upon his bare skin. The guards had stripped him completely after his last escape attempt, one step out of the way for the alicorn were she to have her way with him.

But her expression was not one of malicious glee, nor of furious indignation. Her lips were drawn into a flat line. Her blue eyes with their thin, predatory pupils were evaluating him.

He didn’t want to look at her, but he couldn’t help himself, it was as if she drew his gaze in. It was a feature that he thought was not unlike Princess Celestia, as much as he didn’t want to think of that (and he doubted that Nightmare Moon would have appreciated that comparison). Her form was garbed in dark violets and blues and greys, tailored to accent the curvature of her physique; the half-skirt showed, in addition to her bulbous groin, the swell of her hip and thigh on one side, black painted with splotches of violet and a blue crescent, and her bodice clung tightly to her chest, emphasizing the breadth of her bosom. Nopony could deny that she was immaculate, with her billowing night sky mane, long horn, and leathery bat wings, but being an alicorn brought more than mere physical majesty, it also came packaged with a presence that inspired awe in those around her. Where she differed significantly from the past ruler of Equestria, though, was the intensity of that presence, far more oppressive—an invitation to submission more than anything welcoming. It was as if the atmosphere thinned around her, depriving unprepared ponies of their strength.

Nightmare Moon’s horn lit up and she made a twisting gesture with her hand. He had a moment to wonder if he was about to be thrown about, or if she would fire a beam of energy through his stomach, or if she would rip his head from his shoulders with but a thought, or if she would clench his heart until it burst. He felt short on breath. She was stopping his lungs from pumping. He would asphyxiate. There was a choked noise in his throat.

Then he and the chair floated upward and were placed upright on the floor once more. The sensation of gravity’s hold leaving him, however briefly, was enough of a shock that it got him breathing again.

She muttered, “Hold still.” Before the stallion could react, she was leaning over him and her hands were upon him. The perfect position to gouge his eyes out, to tear open his jaw, to snap his neck. But all she did was trace her fingers along his skin. The touch was tender, but he felt the tingle of magic laced within it. Whenever she touched a place that was especially sore, the tingling intensified, seeping into him, and the pain numbed—not gone, merely dulled, as if a sheet had been thrown over it, designating it as something not meant to be paid heed to. He winced when she touched his chest and shoulder where Stardust had punched him, and she glowered in turn, though seemingly not at him specifically. She worked her way steadily downward, along both of his arms and then his stomach, closer to—

He gasped and lurched forward, on the verge of forgetting his vow of silence.

Immediately a wall of force pressed down on him, holding him in place better than any chains could have. “Calm yourself,” Nightmare Moon intoned sternly, “I’m not going to yank it off.”

The stallion didn’t believe her, but he couldn’t do anything to resist, couldn’t budge in the slightest, while she reached to his stallionhood. He had allowed himself to be lulled into enough of a a daze that he didn’t realize when he had gone erect from the tantalizing stimulation of the alicorn’s touch, as well as her aroma—sweet and chilling, a nightly breeze rolling across a meadow. His penis jutted out from his crotch, a thick pinkish shaft that nearly reached as far as his knees. His testicles pulsed in response to his arousal, globes that were, rather appropriately, the size of apples. He had never been a pony prone to boasting—indeed, he had trended toward being quiet for most his life; the silent treatment he’d been giving the guards wasn’t far off from how he’d normally act—but he’d always had some shred of pride for his size, though he was far too embarrassed to admit to it. At this moment, however, being sexually charged was the last thing he wanted. He held his breath when Nightmare Moon’s probing touch passed over his genitals, not even wanting to think about what she might do to him. In the end, though, that was all that happened, and she continued on with the procedure. It was over before long.

“I apologize for the rasher actions that my subordinates have taken,” Nightmare Moon said dourly while she stood. The metallic clangor of her hoofsteps echoed in the confined chamber as she paced. “Stardust, in particular. I am concerned that she may be too frivolous with the power that her position affords her. Perhaps she is in need of a change of perspective.” There was a faint tilt at the corners of her lips.

The stallion only stared at her, legitimately uncertain of any response to make, not knowing why she was bothering to tell him this, if it was supposed to change his mind on anything. The lot of the Night Guard could rot in Tartarus for all he cared, and they should bring their queen with them.

“But, I suppose, I cannot begrudge her feelings.” She turned to look at him again, and this time her gaze pierced straight through him. “After all, she was quite close to Thunder Crack.”

That prompted him to freeze up, breath catching in his throat.

The mare continued to stare while she perched upon the countertop of a table (it was at the center of the room when he was first brought here, but it had been moved to the corner to make room for their new interrogation methods). “You have less to be afraid of than you believe. After reviewing the evidence, it is clear to me that your actions were made purely out of desperation. My guard retinue would not be pleased, but they would have no choice but to accept my ruling if I moved for a pardoning. However”—she breathed a heavy sigh through her nostrils—“the fact remains that you were acting in opposition to my authority, and you were not alone. I cannot sit idly by and allow somepony who may be part of a rebellious effort against me to walk free from all consequence.”

There was nowhere near the same degree of venom in her tone as any of the past interrogators who had come in—threatening more extreme forms of torture, pain and eventually death, promises to extend that same treatment to his loved ones—and yet the pressure was greater than ever. The stallion had never wanted to recognize Nightmare Moon’s rule, but now that he was within her presence he felt that he was being crushed by her sheer force of will. It was all a trick, he knew it had to be, lulling him into a false sense of security before the jaws of the trap closed on him. Assurances of goodwill were merely honey that would ensnare him. His loins were throbbing through the numbness.

“It truly would be easier for all of us if you were to simply answer our questions,” she said with total glibness. She rubbed at her chin while her other arm crossed underneath her bosom, heaving the pillowy mounds upward, and a leg crossed on top of the other, still teasing slivers of her masculine package. “All we wish to know is who was with you when you raided the camp and where they are based. If you are concerned for their safety, I can assure you that they will merely be taken into custody; I intend to do so with as little harm done as possible.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Though I do not know why you would be so concerned after they…abandoned you.”

The stallion twitched in his seat and grit his teeth. He was actively aware that she was working her way under his skin. He had to control himself. The smell was growing more intense, more heady.

There was a low, rumbling hum in her throat. Her eyes subtly twitched up and down as her gaze shifted across the features of his body. He fought to keep his own focus on her directly, not to drift to her shapely physique. “It really would be a shame to keep you in a cell,” she muttered, seeming more to think aloud, “it won’t be long before that gorgeous musculature of your begins to deteriorate, deprived of proper sustenance and exercise. I don’t want to imagine what you would look like all skinny and scrawny.”

His brow furrowed. He wanted to ask what she was getting at, but he also didn’t especially care. All he wanted was for her to get to the point.

“You know, you remind me of somepony I used to know,” she mused, ever more casual in spite of the circumstances, “he was a guardspony here in the palace, in the old days. His name was Brass Blitz. A real mountain of a stallion, that one. A little too muscular for his own good, perhaps, he wasn’t the quick or athletic kind of soldier, but he could crush rocks with his bare hands. How I relished every time I passed by him or saw him training. I tried to have him stationed outside my quarters, but then Celestia”—the calm air was sharply interrupted when she sneered vehemently, and the stallion found himself glad that she wasn’t looking directly at him—“caught wind of what I was doing, and she shot it down, prude cunt that she was. Said it would be improper of me to engage in relations with a mere guardspony.” She snorted. “It’s not like I wanted to marry him, I just wanted to grind my tits on his cock and oil him up with my cum.”

He blinked dumbly and throbbed. For just a moment, he forgot to think of Nightmare Moon as the tyrant who had wrested control of Equestria. That left a new impression that remained, of a mare who was utterly obsessed with sexual depravity. And he was in the same room as her, tied down and naked. He shuddered as he breathed.

“Hmm…oh well.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose there is nothing to be done. We will get the answers we want sooner or later, even if it means waiting until you are a shriveled shell of a pony.” She spoke utterly nonchalantly. “I should get on with the rest of my business here, I have other matters that need to be tended to before the end of the day.” Then she clapped her hands together, and the sound echoed strangely, an effect that shouldn’t have happened in such a small space.

There was movement outside the holding chamber: heavy, shuffling hoofsteps. The stallion was prepared for more guards to come in and beat him senseless while the alicorn looked on impassively. Instead he was met with the sight of maids. The two mares, one white and one cyan, were dressed in the same uniform, jacket and leotard and leggings, stretched tight around their enormous fleshy frames. It was common knowledge across most of Equestria that Nightmare Moon had a particular preference for large mares, but, much like how it was different to be directly before the alicorn than it was to see her from afar, to see them up close was a shock. Their obese bodies wobbled gelatinously within the confines of their clothes as they squeezed through the doorway—the white mare in the lead did so uneventfully, her expression dour and neutral all the while, two mops held in her hands, but the other one seemed to have more difficulty, in no small part on account of her broader hips and thighs, and at the same time having to carry in buckets of water that splashed haphazardly over her. They were utterly enormous, taking up a significant portion of the room’s floor space, their girth surely outstripping his several times over, and he had the startling thought that even if they didn’t have the same raw strength as a guard (though they surely had to have a fair deal, just to be able to carry themselves), the results would certainly not be pleasant if one of them were to throw themselves on top of him.

“It had occurred to me that this room has not been cleaned in some time, as you have no doubt noticed,” Nightmare Moon remarked plainly.

If the stallion weren’t committed to his silence, he might have commented sarcastically on the scent of blood and sweat and filth that he’d grown numb to over the past nights, but as it was he was mesmerized by the two mares, unable to look away from them. The only other thing he was conscious of was his erection, continuing to pulse, yearning for release. Surprise was steadily giving way to bubbling arousal. His chains rattled.

“So, I have decided that we might as well rectify that sooner rather than later—under my supervision, of course. Not to worry, we will be out of your hair before long, and you will have more time to stew over your thoughts.”

He wasn’t sure he had much thoughts to begin with at the moment. Everything about his imprisonment had been forgotten as he watched the maids begin to mop the floor. It struck him as grossly inefficient; the white one, being a unicorn, had it easy, using her magic to handle a mop and move it in widening arcs, but the cyan one didn’t have that luxury, she had to fight with the breadth of her bosom to hold the handle and reach it past the immensity of her gut, probably not even seeing what she was washing, her ears folded back and a frown creasing into her puffy cheeks. He was left with the impression, though, that that was very likely the entire point, given that Nightmare Moon was here to watch them—she wanted to see them struggle with their encumbrance.

But then the unicorn came closer to him. A breast that could’ve smothered his torso came just shy of brushing against his arm, carrying a faint scent of lilac perfume with it. He shied away as much as he could in his chained constraints, wishing to remain respectful, but he couldn’t stop the heat that flushed in his face, turning his cheeks a deeper shade of red. She was so close; he could just reach out with his fingers and—

“Careful.” He heard Nightmare Moon’s voice directly in his ear, as if she were standing right beside him. He was certain that she was still seated in the same place, but he didn’t dare look now, frozen stock still, bristling along the nape of his neck. Her tone was more dreadful than ever before, not even attempting to hide her violent glee. “If you so much as touch them, your worst nightmares will be preferable to what I’ll do to you.”

The stallion slowly curled his fingers back into a fist and pursed his lips.

His erection was becoming painful, balls pulsing against his thighs on either side. He wasn’t used to this kind of prolonged stimulation, and he couldn’t even stroke himself. In truth, sexuality had never been a strong part of his nature, despite his testosterone-laden masculinity; he had never been especially interested in seeking partners, and he only occasionally felt the need to indulge in his own pleasure. Now, he felt as if every breath he took was laced with aphrodisiac, swirling in his brain and stoking his arousal. The urge for release had never been as strong as it was at this moment, and it was eating at him.

The maids continued their work. The stink of the chamber was being replaced with soap and water, but that was insignificant in the presence of the ponies, the enticing scent of mares (and something more in the alicorn’s case). The stallion tried not to pay them any mind, but it was hard to do that when there was so much of them, drawing in his focus as if they had their own gravitational pull. He felt Nightmare Moon’s gaze upon him all the while, silently daring him to act upon his base impulses, though it wasn’t as if there was much he could do while tied down. If he could just have one hand free to reach his penis…

“So…” The cyan mare suddenly spoke. There was a plucky energy to her voice that was fighting against the bulk weighing on her chest. The stallion noticed that, although the maid uniform seemed to include hair and tails tied in buns, her rainbow mane was too short for that, combed back but rapidly coming unkempt as sweat trickled from her brow; she must have been a new recruit to the retinue. “What’s he in here for?”

“That matter does not concern you, Rainbow Dash,” the other maid said promptly without turning to face her, stern and severe. “Focus on your task at hand.”

“Now, now, Rarity, there’s nothing wrong with a little curiosity,” Nightmare Moon interjected with a thin smile on her muzzle, and then she turned to Rainbow Dash, “he’s here because he was part of a raid on one of our encampments.”

“A raid?” she repeated, realization dawning as her eyes slowly widened. “You mean…the one with Thunder Crack…?”

“Yes, the very same.” The alicorn nodded.

Rainbow Dash had stopped her cleaning to stare at the stallion tied to the chair. There was a moment in which a flurry of conflicting emotions flashed across her countenance, but all the while her violet eyes quivered with confusion, staring through the eyeholes of the plasticine mask her face had become, hiding something underneath the surface. He was not as good at it as his sister, but he could tell when a pony was hiding something—pretending, lying. Then the moment passed and her brows furrowed and she bared her teeth. “W-well…why…why is he still here?” she demanded impetuously, “Shouldn’t he be rotting in the dungeons with all the other traitors?”

“Rainbow.” Nightmare Moon spoke with kind firmness, her minute smile remaining all the while. “You of all ponies should know that it’s not so simple. There are many considerations to be had.” She glanced toward the stallion slyly. “His fate has not yet been determined, and we may still have need of him.”

She scoffed. “Why wait so long for him to spill his guts? I can get him to talk if that’s what you need.” She slapped her hands together and cracked her knuckles. She had a practiced grin that said, “I’m going to enjoy this.” It was one that the stallion had seen many times from the guards who came into the interrogation chamber. But her eyes said, “I’m sorry about this.” He wasn’t thinking much about any of that, though; his most immediate thought was what she might have in mind for him. He suspected that he could be buried between her ass cheeks and never see the light of day again.

“Rainbow Dash.” Rarity spoke again, volume raised, and this time she turned to glare at the other mare. While she stood nearby, there was an air of cold unfeeling about her that crept into the stallion’s senses; it was far more along the lines of what he would have expected Nightmare Moon to be, silently imposing, a threat just hidden behind a veil. He was inwardly grateful that she had scarcely even batted an eyelash in his direction, as if actively ignoring his presence. “It is profoundly unbecoming of you to speak against the designs of the Mistress,” she seethed, syllables slow and articulated. “And I reiterate, return to your assigned task.”

“You keep your nose out of this, Rarity!” Rainbow Dash snapped back at her, scowling, the two maids now at odds with each other. There was no more sympathy in her expression. “Just because I’m a tub of lard now doesn’t mean I’m not still Night Guard at heart! I came here to serve Nightmare Moon and I’m prepared to do whatever I need to satisfy her!”

The dark mare chuckled under her breath but said nothing.

“You will do the work that is given to you, not stray on paths of mindless violence and impulse at the drop of a thimble!” The stallion noticed that Rarity was gripping something hanging from her belt: a long wooden rod.

Rainbow Dash only responded by blowing a raspberry at her and turning away as a misbehaving filly would.

In an instant, the lash whipped out from Rarity’s hip, carried by an aura of cyan magic that blurred like a comet’s tail, and slapped against the pegasus’s rear. Ripples spread throughout the surface of her flesh like waves on a pond. She yelped, flinching, her wings snapping outward. The noise shifted almost immediately, though, when she staggered and her hoof came down on the bucket she had been using for cleaning, the cry of alarm extending seamlessly into a second one as the container tipped over, spilled, and her balance went out the metaphorical window. She stumbled, unable to stop the inertia of her own weight, and she toppled forward, directly onto the table in the corner of the room. There was a tumultuous crash as wood sundered beneath her, falling to pieces, and she landed on the floor in a heap.

The stallion watched all this, staring wide-eyed, and still, distantly, throbbing. The fact that he was a prisoner in the castle of a mad tyrant was almost forgotten. He watched Rainbow Dash groan as she shifted, struggling to move, to stand again, a red welt rapidly developing where she had been struck. For just a moment, he found himself wondering if she had crushed Nightmare Moon in the process, if this altercation had unexpectedly resulted in the elimination of his persecutor. Then, however, he saw the tall mare standing to the side, looking down on the devastation, having already, silently, imperceptibly, slipped out of harm’s way.

“Oh, Rainbow, what a terrible blunder,” she remarked with a sigh and a shake of her head, disappointed, “you were doing so well until now.”

“N-Nightm-m-mare Moon, M-Mistress!” Rainbow Dash sputtered, having to fight even to speak and look up at her. There was a whole new tone to her now, a new mask that she was wearing. Audibly she sounded anxious, worried, as no doubt a servant under Nightmare Moon would be prone to under these circumstances. Just under the surface, however, there was something far more excited and eager, bubbling upward. “P-P-Please, I d-didn’t mean—”

“Ah-ah.” The alicorn cut her off while wagging a finger at her. “It’s too late for that, my dear. You have already grossly misbehaved, please do not be so uncouth as to beg on top of that. Now it is time”—her grin widened, flashing the pointed tips of her teeth—“for your punishment.”

“I do not believe that this implement will be sufficient for the task, Mistress,” Rarity commented as she came waddling over, swaying from side to side, plump rear directly in front of him now. She was nonetheless brandishing the rod, wringing both ends in her hands, as if impatient.

“Indeed, Rarity,” Nightmare Moon agreed, nodding, “this will require more severe action to be taken. Let us try this instead—” Her horn pulsed with moonlight and there was a flash before something emerged into being before her. Briefly, the stallion registered it as a sword, a handle with a broad blade, a huge slab that might cleave through whole ponies. As the light faded, though, he saw that it was actually made of smooth dark wood with silver gilding, a gridwork of coin-sized holes drilled in along the length of the flat.

The paddle floated toward Rarity, who took it deftly in her grasp. Her enormous bosom couldn’t have made it feasible for her to wield it properly in both hands, but she managed to heft it with only one, testing it while rolling her wrist and elbow. “Yes, this will serve quite adequately” The sterile edge of her affect never shifted.

“R-Rarity,” Rainbow Dash whispered breathlessly, “you can’t—”

But the unicorn didn’t give her the dignity of a response. She just brought the paddle down. The clap as it hit both cheeks simultaneously was thunderous in the enclosed space, and the prone pegasus cried out again. There was little delay before the second blow, or the third; Rarity struck again and again, unrelentingly. The only signs of exertion she offered were stifled grunts that could barely be heard over her victim’s exultations.

It didn’t take long, though, for the tone of the scene to change markedly. The alarm and dismay in Rainbow Dash’s voice melted away, shrillness replaced with sounds that were sharp and protracted. She moaned, low pants segueing into intense gasps on each smack, a vocalization of one long breath that never seemed to end. Her gelatinous body rocked back and forth, but it didn’t seem as if that was solely because of the impacts on her—she was leaning into the blows, making them hit harder. Rarity, whether or not she was aware of this, was only striking more and more forcefully, her jaw set in a resolute grimace.

In spite of everything, how long he had held out until now, the stallion found himself wanting to speak. This couldn’t be right, he had to do something to stop it. He had to get away from it. But the sound died half-formed in his throat, a weak squeal. He lurched forward but the chains still held him fast. After all the torture and pain he had been through, he had never wanted to be rid of this place more than he did now, yet there was still nothing he could do about it.

He felt the pain welling up within, agony surging through him, a fire igniting his senses. He could feel the blood pumping in his penis, throbbing like a grotesque phallic heart, and yet the urethral passage was completely empty, dry and gaping. His balls were so full—he swore they were occupying more space between his legs than they had before Nightmare Moon entered the room—but their burdensome loads had nowhere to go. He didn’t want to look at the maids, didn’t want to acknowledge their existence, their pliant and voluptuous frames, their tremulous, heaving motions, the lurid noises that they produced with every breath. He wanted to, so desperately, but he could not. Those girthy bodies filled the whole world for him. The chains rattled, grinding his flesh raw, but he could no longer be certain that if he were freed he would run for the door; he might throw himself at them, heedless of the consequences that had been promised to him.

“I apologize for this distraction.” Nightmare Moon was standing beside him again. Her hand rested on the back of the chair and her hip with its crescent moon marking was nearly brushing his arm. “I love my maids, I truly do,” she mused, “but, alas, it is necessary on occasion to discipline them.” She almost sounded apologetic, but he saw now that this too was only a front. All of this was nothing more than a play, every pony an actor. Her eyes bore into him; she was expecting him to play his own part. “But we are also free to take the good with the bad, wouldn’t you say? We’ll get back to concluding our business shortly, but for the time being we can enjoy the spectacle offered to us.”

And then she tugged on her thong and her cock came free. The fleshy shaft bounced while it pulsed with life, already partially erect. It was a monstrous thing, dark as the night sky, lined with veins, with balls like melons hanging beneath it. Though the alicorn’s curvaceousness had been dwarfed by her maids, her stallionhood made his look like that of a prepubescent colt’s in comparison. His cheeks clenched together reflexively at the sight of it; he desperately didn’t want to imagine how it was she could shove that girth into a pony. “I forgot that I hadn’t rubbed one out yet today,” she said with her ever-present smirk, “it’s important to work out that tension where you can when you’re running a kingdom.” She placed a hand on her member—she couldn’t even enclose its circumference within her grasp—fingers splayed and pressing firmly into the firm meat. With slow arcs, she stroked up and down along the dark shaft, engorging further as it stiffened to full mast, pumping up like a balloon filling with air. Her demeanor shifted, but the change was not as noticeable as it had been for Rainbow Dash; her breathing hitched in minute gasps, her chest bobbing, eyelids fluttering, yet she remained poised, her expression hardly changing. She licked at her lips as gobbets of pre began to leak from her flared tip.

The same could not be said for the stallion. He was squirming in his seat, fighting against his bonds. His penis was right in front of him and he couldn’t touch it, couldn’t even bend forward enough to rub his abs against it. That stimulation might not have even helped, though—he felt like there was something intangible but very forceful, stronger than any physical bindings, circling around the base of his shaft and his testicles, squeezing tight. The pressure was unbearable. He didn’t want to be erect anymore, didn’t want to be erect ever again for the rest of his life if he could help it. His tongue hung from his mouth as he wheezed, drool trickling over his lips. His whole world was throbbing lengths, a chorus of inequine noises, and vast fields of welcoming flesh that were so tantalizingly enormous and yet just barely out of his reach.

The air was thinning.

He looked up.

The walls and ceiling of the chamber were pulling away, the ceiling rising into shadow.

The sounds of Rainbow Dash’s orgasmic moaning and Rarity paddling her ass rang only briefly before muting abruptly.

There was a rumbling noise, a droning bass tone, and he looked up to see Nightmare Moon, looming over him, her stature colossal, cock monolithic, spraying torrents of viscous fluid.

The vicegrip around his groin tightened.

He clenched his eyes shut.

“Mac!”

He looked toward the voice, but then there was a roaring battle cry.

It was already too late when he looked back, the stallion in the midnight armor upon him, snarling, framed by a hellish backdrop of flames.

Taken by surprise, he fell over to the ground with the guard on top of him, and a fist collided with the side of his skull.

“Rotten thief!” the guard hissed before taking out a dagger.

The tip of the blade was plunging toward him.

He rallied himself and grabbed the other pony’s wrist, stopping him cold.

The guard was strong, but he was stronger.

He started to cry out while the dagger was being forced back toward him.

(no—)

“M…muh…”

“Hmm?” Nightmare Moon was beside the stallion in the chair. Her pleasuring had been forgotten. A moment later, she snapped her fingers, and Rarity stopped in place, her breathing labored. Rainbow Dash kept moaning a while longer.

He swallowed, his throat dry and sandpapery, and slumped forward, limp. “Mill,” he croaked.

“What’s that?” The alicorn’s words dripped into his ear like honey.

“The…old m-mill…south end of town,” he muttered. His own voice sounded alien to him after going so long without talking, rusty from disuse. “Puh…p-please…” He couldn’t finish the sentence that he thought was supposed to be “Please don’t hurt them.” He didn’t want to admit to himself that it was trying to come out as “Please let me cum.”

“There, there, little one.” He didn’t have the energy to flinch when she touched his cheek. If anything, he leaned into her. Her palm was so gentle, so warm, her fingers delicately caressing the lines of his jaw. Managing to focus his vision, he saw her kneeling over him once more, her face hanging just above his. He didn’t even want to look at her breasts; he was completely drawn in by her smile. It was the smile of a pony who could do no wrong. “There’s no need to worry for your friends’ safety,” she crooned to him, “I promise that I will offer leniency to them just as I did to you.”

He gasped and groaned, his throat bobbing, unable to speak, so instead he simply nodded his assent.

“Now…” Her smile faltered, just slightly, to show her sincere concern. “You will be freed from your imprisonment, but I am afraid that you cannot simply be released right away. It is for your own best interest that you remain here for the time being.” Then she brightened again. “Don’t worry, our amenities are quite generous. You understand, yes?”

The stallion didn’t really understand, but he nodded anyway. The rush of rejuvenation that had come from Nightmare Moon’s kind aura was rapidly diminishing, and the agony of arousal was flooding back in to fill the void.

“You have suffered through so much, though.” Her eyes flicked downward, and a twinkle of mischievousness lit up in the icy orbs while her grin widened. “How would you like if I were to alleviate your pain once again?”

He nodded fervently, his orange mane flopping about.

“That’s the spirit.”

Nightmare Moon pulled on her bodice. The fabric ripped away into wisps of smoke that dissipated into the ether, and then her breasts hung free. He wasn’t sure if they might have been even larger than he thought; the black moons were bigger than his head, pert dark blue saucer-sized nipples capping their far ends. Now he was completely transfixed. He was welcome to having all his other pesky thoughts obliterated.

Then she descended. The supple mounds graced his groin, completely covering his lap. His cock and balls were swallowed up in the abyss of the alicorn’s cleavage. The soft embrace was heavenly, forcing a groan out of his throat. That was all before she pressed her hands on either side of her bosom and squeezed inward, grinding up and down, thumping against his thighs with each repetition, and it hardly took long to elicit a reaction.

The tightness vanished, and the stallion made a raucous whinnying groan as he finally came at long last. Nightmare Moon’s capacious cleavage swallowed up most of the discharge, only a few specks of white bubbling up to the surface, staining the dark fur. She chuckled while she dragged a finger through the cum, then brought it up to her muzzle and lapped at it. “Mmm…tart, quite the body,” she mused, “I believe we will quite enjoy having you here.”

But he was already drifting out of consciousness as the force of his relief hit him, slumping back in the chair.

Nightmare Moon stood, and her air of regal authority rematerialized immediately. Her tits and cock may have been out, but her visage was all business once more. “Send word to the guard,” she announced to the open room, “we’ll be setting out as soon as everypony is prepared.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Rarity replied between huffing breaths. She ran a hand through her mane, but there were still loose strands sticking out. Her other arm hung limp at her side, no longer able to support the weight of the paddle.

“And get someone in here to take him to the VIP wing. Gently.”

Rainbow Dash had gone back to struggling to stand when a veil of magic surrounded her, effortlessly lifting and righting her. She nearly stumbled on unsteady hooves but managed to hold her position. “Y-yeah. Sure,” she muttered.

“Mistress.” Rarity spoke again, her energy slowly returning to her. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I recall you saying that you intended to, and I quote, oil him up with your cum.”

Nightmare Moon looked at her, then at the red stallion chained to the chair, prone, unsuspecting. Her penis throbbed. “No, Rarity, I have decided that that is no longer necessary,” she replied plainly. “He has gone through enough; he doesn’t need to take a blow from a cannon to the chest.”

The unicorn hummed dully but said nothing.

“Or were you hoping that I’d be sparing it for one of you?”

Rarity only stared back placidly. Rainbow Dash glanced between the two of them and bit her lip.

“No, I believe this load is already spoken for.” Nightmare Moon stroked at her twitching length, and her lips stretched into a jagged grin. “I have a prior engagement with Stardust.”

Author's Note

Remember when I said a while ago that I imagined doing another story for the NMM series in which Rainbow Dash would have already been made into a maid offscreen? Well this was that story. Perhaps this is a little extreme for my usual repertoire but I had a rather strong idea for something that Nightmare Moon would do as a form of torture that isn't purely about violence. Probably only going to get darker from here on out.

I dunno I didn't really think it was needed to outright say Big McIntosh's name, you know who he is, dear reader.

Readers of Pride and Punishment may suspect what Nightmare Moon plans on doing to Stardust.

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