Anything in Return

“So.” Fiddlesticks allowed herself the briefest of pauses between hungry kisses, her mouth taking just enough of a break from wandering the hickey-marked expanse of Candy Apple’s throat to form words. “Whatcha got planned?”

“Depends.” Candy purred just as much as she spoke, luxuriating in the attention that Fiddlesticks was lavishing her with. “Those nipples of your’s still as sensitive as they were last year?”

Fiddlesticks took her sweet time answering, choosing instead to trail playful nibbles across Candy’s collarbone. “You’d think that after everything Lightning’s put them through the answer’d be no but what you hear next may surprise you!”

What was heard next was not words, not in any classical sense at least. It was instead a yelp of surprise followed by the special sort of moan one could only draw out of a mare who treated pain the same as pleasure. Candy had reached a hoof down and pinched one of Fiddle’s nipples, twisting gently before pulling away.

Fiddle’s concentration broke, collapsing against Candy’s chest. Candy seized the initiative here, rolling Fiddlesticks onto her back.

“So as you can tell: still very sensitive.” Fiddle’s voice was playful, eager to see what sort of fun Candy had in store for her.

Fiddlesticks had a few guesses, if the low-heat candles, nipple clamps, and variety of spanking instruments that sat in waiting were any indication. Candy was a tried-and-true sadist, a regular master of her craft. So impressed was Lightning after the first time Fiddlesticks and Candy had ‘met’ that she endeavored to schedule a private session for the three of them.

They all learned a lot about each other that day. Lightning learned how much she enjoyed inflicting pain upon her wife, Fiddlesticks learned how much she loved being hurt, and Candy learned that Fiddlesticks could hold her breath for two entire minutes.

“Good. I hope they stay that way. You make some of the cutest noises.” As if proving her point, Candy nipped at the same nipple she had pinched just a minute prior. Fiddle squirmed in gentle ecstasy, her voice escaping unbidden in a heady moan.

It was nice to cut loose and make as much of a racket as she wanted. Or as much of a racket as she was capable of making as Candy redoubled her efforts. What was at first an isolated nibble became something else entirely. Candy closed her lips around Fiddle’s petite teat, suckling insistently.

Fiddlesticks kicked her legs weakly, trying and failing to shake out the pleasure that was starting to course through her body. The pressure only grew as Candy now shifted her focus to Fiddle’s left teat instead, opting to leave a hoof to toy with the right. She was relentless, a quality Fiddlesticks admired in a mare. It was one of the things that drew her to Lightning Dust in the first place; that sort of dogged determination made her heart sing.

What was making her sing at this moment was Candy. Sing in pleasure, in pain, and then finally in disappointment as she pulled away. They each took the moment of respite to compose themselves, sucking in a few deep breaths. Candy slid gracefully off of the bed and sauntered over to the table. Fiddlesticks enjoyed the view as Candy docked her tail to the side, her marehood slick with lust and winking eagerly.

The show continued as Candy took turns hefting a few implements of impact play, teeth clamping down around the handle as she swung them through the air. Fiddlesticks' breath couldn’t help but hitch in her throat as each tool completed arc after arc. It was impossible not to imagine the sort of sounds they’d make when they struck her or the sort of marks they’d leave behind.

Not to mention the pain, Oh stars the pain was sublime. The sting, the bite, the dull heat of bruises forming; all of it scratched an itch that proved nigh-impossible to satisfy elsewhere. It was lucky for her then that she wouldn’t need to simply contend with these fantasies in her imagination as Candy’s voice cut through the muddled miasma of her thoughts.

“Present, slut. Now.” There was something about the tension evident in her voice, of the rough edge of a mare who knew she was in control that made Fiddlesticks’ brain go fuzzy. Slut. Such a simple word wielded with an elegance that belied its crass nature.

Fiddlesticks wasted no time in doing what she was told, rolling from her position on her back to one where her groin was pressed against the edge of the bed, hindlegs pressed firmly against the floor. She focused on her breathing, trying to steady the nerves that arose despite having been in this exact position dozens of times.

It never got any less nerve wracking, really. She supposed it was something she should be happy about. The thought that someday such triumphant pleasure might be relegated to nothing more than rote, a carnal desire fulfilled and nothing else; such an idea sat poorly with her. She’d rather the nerves, the excitement, the tingle of gooseflesh as she felt Candy approach.

Mistress Candy.

Her voice was a husky whisper, dripping with need. “Safeword is strawberry, okay?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Fiddlesticks had not needed to use a safeword in several years. It took some work to get to a point where everypony understood each other's boundaries, sure, but that was part of the fun! Getting to explore the limits of one's sexualities, to truly indulge in each other's desires; that was worth the risk of getting hurt. Hurt could be learned from — silence in the face of hurt was like poisoning the well.
“Good girl.” Candy’s reply came with a firm clap of hoof on ass, drawing a delightful yelp from Fiddlesticks.

Fiddlesticks liked being a good girl. Being a good girl meant that she got to get her ass beat.

Another clap bounced off of the room’s pale orange walls, punctuated by a hiss of pain. Behind her Candy tsked, clearly disappointed in Fiddlesticks' performance so far.

“I couldn’t help but notice you’re not counting, toy.” Candy backed up her statement with another smack. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

“One! Sorry Mistress; it won’t happen again. I promise.” Fiddlesticks loved the counting to be honest. She loved keeping time, falling into the rhythm of call and response such an activity demanded.

Such a rhythm was quickly established. Candy had a skilled hoof, knowing when to strike and when to languish on Fiddlesticks' tender rump. Her work was steady and precise, befitting of a trained farm worker such as Candy. That was the sort of thing Fiddlesticks really enjoyed about the Apple family — they knew how to use the talents they’d been given in all aspects of their lives.

Far too often had Fiddlesticks taken a unicorn or pegasus lover in her youth only to find herself disappointed when their bite didn’t match up to their bark. Lightning Dust was definitely an exception; that mare talked a big game and delivered every time. The Apple family was typically a more humble bunch, choosing instead to let their actions do all of the talking for them.

So it was that Fiddlesticks’ was more than content to fill the otherwise dead air with her wavering voice as she slowly counted up and up and up. Her ass burned, raw with pain; even if her mind knew that this was just the warm up her body had yet to get the memo.

“How many are we at so far, hmm?” Candy’s voice was measured, asking a question she knew the answer to.

“Forty. Twenty for each cheek, Ma’am. Why do you ask?” Fiddlesticks couldn’t hide the hopeful edge to her voice even if she tried. She didn’t need to look behind her to know that Candy was taking her time carefully selecting another implement of pleasure.

Candy had apparently found what she was looking for as the wide and unrepentantly flat surface of a paddle cracked against her rear .

“Shit!” Fiddlesticks hissed in equal parts surprise, pain, and pleasure. Despite the shock she didn’t forget her role for a moment. “One.”

Another clap, the peal of leather against flesh hanging in the air. “No reason.”

Candy began to let some of her reservations slip as she continued. The blows were less carefully measured, less agonizingly paced; Candy now worked with a palpable fervor no doubt spurred on by the undeniably crude language that spilled ceaselessly from Fiddlesticks’ mouth.

No longer content on simply beating her ass, Candy turned her attention to the thick but firm expanse that was the back of Fiddlesticks'’ thigh. That hurt in a way that made her loins burn with a desperate longing, a fiery lust that burned hotter than the throbbing pain she was currently experiencing.

Fiddlesticks was grateful that Candy seemed to favor her ass, at least; the occasional thigh blow did a lot to add spice but would’ve been entirely too much otherwise. Counting was proving to be an ever more difficult endeavor — the cocktail of pain and pleasure made it difficult to keep anything in her brain organized. Such was the peril of subspace, she supposed.

No sooner did the twentieth count leave her lips when the relentless attacks ceased. Candy, it would seem, was feeling something approaching mercy towards her beleaguered charge. Mercy gave way to a brief moment of kindness, not at all unusual in this sort of environment. “Need any water?”

“Yes please, Mistress.” Fiddlesticks took the cup she was offered, drinking greedily. Feeling refreshed, Fiddlesticks returned the now-empty glass. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, slut.” Candy planted a demure kiss on Fiddlesticks’ cheek before returning to her position at Fiddle’s rear.

Fiddlesticks heard the whoosh of a riding crop cutting through the thick air before she felt its bite, a brutal sting that drove any coherent thought out of her mind in an instant. That she could still count was a testament to her dedication as a sub, desperately clinging to the only instruction she had been provided like a lifesaver in the middle of the ocean.

There was a certain charm in getting lost in the sensation, sure, but that absent-minded pleasure was better saved for later in the night. Pain of this caliber demanded at least some level of awareness; if not for her own good then at least for Candy’s. She was a delightful mare, a shrewd bookkeeper who could drink you under the table without batting an eye. She was also surprisingly sensitive, as fragile as sugar glass at times.

So, Fiddle promised herself that she’d be honest with Candy before anything else. Honest about her feelings, her intentions, and about the moment at hoof. Were she asked to honestly describe her feelings regarding their time spent together tonight, Fiddlesticks would have only one word in response.

“Fuck!” Fiddle slurred as much as she spoke, any meaning dissolved by the constant stream of expletives and delirious mumblings that it swam amongst.

Candy had abandoned any pretense of care, now thoroughly enjoying whipping Fiddlesticks’ hindquarters. If Fiddle was counting on Candy getting tired at any point she was terribly mistaken; time had apparently only served to improve the force and vigor she leveraged.

After a certain point Fiddlesticks gave up on counting. She gave up on coherent speech of any sort, opting instead to moan desperately into the thick cotton blanket she rested on. Her entire world was on fire, a burning haze of masochism that permeated every fiber of her being. The moans slowly gave way to begging as Fiddlesticks tried to plead with her tormentor for just a moment of peace. To her credit, Candy relented.

If only for a moment.

That moment passed as quickly as it came as Fiddlesticks felt a hoof tangle itself in her mane before yanking upward sharply, pulling her muzzle out of the comfort of the bed and into the warm air.

“Have you had enough, whore?” Candy growled through clenched teeth, playing the role of a villain remarkably well.

“Yes, Mistress. Y-your toy would like to be finished now.” Fiddlesticks could only barely manage to choke out a reply, the corner of her eyes welling with tears.

Candy relented, this time in earnest. Fiddle collapsed into the bed as her mane was let free, letting her hindlegs go limp underneath her. She only stirred when she felt a cool glass of water against her hooves.

“You did fantastic, dear. Just wonderful.” Candy took the empty glass and set it on the nearby nightstand. “Want to go for anything else?”

Fiddlesticks chewed on that question, her brow knitted in thought. Her eyes scanned the room, looking over the instruments of pleasure and pain that littered its various surfaces. Her gaze rested on the clamps and candles and it was a simple process for Candy to follow the direction of her eyes.

“Use your words, dear.” Candy idly stroked Fiddle’s mane, enjoying the brief opportunity to be more delicate with her affection.

“The… the clamps and the candles. I want those, please.” Fiddlesticks leaned into the tender touch that was offered to her like a lifeline, clinging to it in an attempt to soothe the burning pain that ebbed throughout her hindquarters. She thought for a second and made one last request. “Some aloe ointment would be nice as well, please.”

Candy hummed happily, staying in that window of sapphic bliss for just a moment before pulling a way to attend to her sub. From the loosely-organized pile of sex toys that lay on the table across from them, Candy pulled out a bottle of ointment, a set of clamps, a box of matches, and a few low-heat candles.

The bottle clicked open and moments later Fiddlesticks cooed in appreciation as a cool gel was spread carefully across her tender ass and thighs. The subdued smell of aloe lulled her into a quiet trance, losing herself in the feeling of a soft hoof rubbing small circles on her sore body. The effect was immediate, helping to dampen the pain a good deal.

Fiddlesticks heard movement as the hooves left her body and opened an eye to see Candy holding a pillow, waiting expectantly.

“Could you scoot closer to this side of the bed for me? I’m gonna give you a pillow to rest your tailbone on so the aloe doesn’t come off.” Fiddle did as she was told and Candy tucked a pillow in underneath her, keeping her rump and thighs elevated from the rest of the bed. “Now then, I think I have a sub to play with…”

Fiddle could only nod in response, that familiar swirl of lust beginning to churn in her stomach yet again. She sucked in a breath as Candy fixed a pair of rubber-coated clamps to her nipples, letting out a sharp hiss. They were just tight enough to be the perfect kind of uncomfortable, the gentle sort of pain that would quiet over time but never leave the symphony of sensation that lovemaking brought with it.

Fiddlesticks squirmed against the sweat-soaked sheets, letting out a nervous giggle as Candy lit a match. The smell of sulfur mingled with the thick aroma of mare musk that clung to the air, bathing Fiddle in sweet dopamine. She fixed a careful gaze on the softly-burning candle, watching as her dom moved it gently through the air.

Candy held it there, suspended above the soft fur of her stomach for what felt like ages. When the warm wax finally hit her belly, the wait proved to be worth it as she sang out in masochistic bliss. It was, for a brief moment, like a white-hot pin piercing right through her tender flesh. After that brief moment subsided and her body grew accustomed to the heat, the feeling changed. Each successive drop of wax felt more and more like a drop of warm water with the heat pooling in her groin as the bucket below.

The dull burning of the wax mixed with the constant sharp presence of the nipple clamps perfectly, creating a rising cacophony of pleasure that coursed through her fidgety body. Candy was adept at conducting this wall of noise into something more resembling a symphony, toying with Fiddle’s caged hen even as she carefully metered out drops of hot wax. Fiddlesticks had nearly given herself over to the sonorous tones of pleasure that dominated her frazzled brain, stopping herself only when she realized the steady dripping of wax had stopped.

Candy had snuffed the candle out, brandishing a new one in its place. Seeing the quizzical look on Fiddle’s face, Candy answered the unspoken question present in the air. “I’m getting a new candle that should make a slightly cooler wax. I intend on using this one on your teats while I facefuck you, hole.”

Hole.

Fiddlesticks smiled at the word, letting it seep deep into her dopamine-addled brain. “Just tell me where you want me, Mistress.”

Candy smiled back, eyes alight with a sadistic fire. “Turn to leave your head hanging off of the bed and open your mouth for me.”

Fiddlesticks dutifully did as she was asked, enjoying the admittedly disorienting view as she did so. Her Mistress’ cock was the same deep red as her mane and hooves and the aroma coming off of it was enough to drive out any thoughts left lingering in her head. Again the smell of sulfur filled the air as a match was lit. There was a brief moment of solace as the candle ignited and Candy positioned herself.

The solace was broken as Fiddle eagerly accepted her Mistress into her mouth, lips wrapping greedily around her thick shaft. The taste was divine; salt and musk clung to her tongue as Candy began to properly fuck her face. Each stroke forward was accompanied by a drop of wax on her sensitive teats, sending her body into a frenzied squirm as she tried desperately to acclimate to the sudden change in temperature.

It was almost too much to bear, a sensory barrage that left Fiddlesticks a frazzled mess of crossed wires and wayward neurons. As her body grew used to the biting heat of wax, Fiddle grew aware of just how deep Candy’s cock was in her throat. Each rock of her hips brought her marehood all the way to the base, where it remained just long enough for Fiddlesticks to enjoy the intoxicating scent of her Mistress’ balls before pulling away.

So it was that Fiddlesticks was locked in place there, a mare pumping away at her throat while she dripped wax onto her teats. She felt her own marehood strain desperately against its enclosure, leaking a steady stream of lurid fluid onto the bed sheets below. Her thighs were slick with lust, distributed in a thick coating by her constant squirming.

Then, before she knew it, Candy bottomed out in her mouth one last time. Her Mistress let out a sharp expletive of pleasure as her cock twitched, spilling hot cum down her throat. She pulled back, letting the last few pumps coat Fiddle’s mouth in her seed. It was rich and salty, a delicious treat for a well-behaved toy like her.

After a few moments, Candy carefully pulled back her now-flared cock, letting out an appreciative moan as she did. Fiddle pushed herself back onto the bed fully, head still reeling from the relentless fucking she had just received. They both took a moment to compose themselves before the scene slowly set back in.

Candy gingerly removed the nipple clamps, Fiddle letting out a quiet whine as she did so. Their presence would be missed. Next Candy put away the candles and matches, trying and failing to rearrange the messy toy table.

Satisfied with her work, she returned to the bed, a soft smile on her face. “Was there anything I could do for you, sweetheart?”

Mustering what strength she had left, Fiddlesticks turned onto her side and gave Candy a weak but genuine smile. “More water and some cuddles, please.”

Candy nodded eagerly, her demeanor a ray of sunshine breaking through the dark atmosphere they had built together over the last hour. “I’d be more than happy to.”