Anything in Return

“Do I have to wear this ridiculous getup?” Fiddlesticks picked petulantly at the straps of her garter, quietly relishing in the snap that echoed through the air as it made contact with her flank. It chaffed a little at her bruised hindquarters, a necessary evil that lingerie brought with it.

Apple Cider was currently making slow laps around her, studying every angle and making sure everything was in place. Fiddle never figured Cider for the lingerie type; not that she was complaining! Just that none of the extended Apple family seemed too keen on the pomp and circumstance that lace brought with it.

“You do! You’re mine for the next little while, remember?” Apple Cider stopped in front of Fiddlesticks, tilting her chin up with her hooves. They locked gazes, an animalistic passion burning in Cider’s eyes.

As if to punctuate this statement, Cider pulled her in roughly for a kiss. Their lips collided and Fiddlesticks melted into the touch, surrendering whatever illusion of control she had to her better. This was how this was meant to go, after all. A pretty girl stuffed her tongue into Fritter’s mouth and she handed the reins over in an instant.

“Now then,” Cider’s voice was husky, dripping with intent, “who do you belong to?”

“You.” Fiddlesticks knew she had that traitorous dopey look on her face, those half-lidded eyes and that corny smile writ large across her muzzle. It was a dead giveaway for her buttons being pressed, a klaxon call alerting any interested domme in the area to make their move.

“Good girl. Now get on your knees.” The lust in her voice remained, tempered with the firm tone of a mare in charge. Fiddlesticks gleefully complied.

As she settled into a kneel, she turned her thoughts briefly to the tarp coating most of the floor. It was a good couple feet across, spread neatly across the rug it covered. Given what she remembered of Apple Cider’s predilections from last year, the tarp’s presence made a lot of sense.

Fiddlesticks came face to cock as soon as she tore her eyes away from the tarp she was laying on. Cider’s marehood was just barely visible in its sheath, hiding a considerable length. She didn’t need to wait for instructions before she opened her mouth eagerly, letting her tongue loll out of her mouth in anticipation.

Her anticipation would be rewarded as, wordlessly, Apple Cider advanced. She shuffled forward until she was straddling most of Fiddlesticks, the brow of her head brushing against the middle of Cider’s barrel. Slowly Cider’s cock freed itself from its sheath. With a steady and gentle rock of her hips, Cider guided her cock forward and into Fiddle’s waiting mouth.

The moan of appreciation that spilled from Cider was enough to make Fiddle smile around the mouthful of cock she was currently enjoying. A few more awkward thrusts and the two of them had finally found their rhythm, settling into a steady facefucking that suited them both perfectly.

After the comfort of the shower she shared with Apple and Lavender Fritter, Fiddlesticks was honestly excited to be put back to work. As much as she loved the brief intermissions between the hours of lurid passion that awaited her, the most degenerate part of her soul yearned to be yet again made an object of pleasure by another mare. Or mares. Or stallions even, if they played their cards right.

It was only as Cider began to pick up her pace that Fiddlesticks remembered the tarp that she was laying on, the crinkle of it ever present as Cider thrust eagerly into her mouth. There was a dull burning in her loins, different from the raw pleasure that even now coated her thighs with marecum. This was…

Fiddlesticks’ hurriedly tapped her hooves against Candy’s flank, politely requesting that she pull back for just a moment. Thankfully Candy complied, stooping down for a moment to come face to face with Fiddlesticks.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but… I really have to pee.” The second those words left her mouth Fiddlesticks knew she was going to regret saying anything. To call the look in Candy’s eyes sadistic was a dramatic understatement.

“Is that so? Guess you’ll just have to wait till I’m done to go. Unless you think you can’t hold it til then, in which case there’s a tarp on the floor for a reason.” Her voice had a genuinely evil edge to it, making it clear that no reprieve would be granted.

Instead it was right back to work for Fiddlesticks. She made it a point to focus not on the growing pressure on her bladder but rather the sensation of the cock in her mouth. Apple Cider had clearly been busy elsewhere if the taste of sweat that coated her tongue was any indication. Fiddlesticks had always been curious what the girls got up to when she wasn’t there to entertain them.

Beyond the taste was the scent as well, as each thrust brought Fiddle’s nose closer and closer to the base of Candy’s marehood. The aroma of a day's worth of work and arousal clung to her nostrils, soaking her world in a thick veneer of musk. It was intoxicating, the sort of smell that Fiddle could get lost in.

Lose herself she did, her entire consciousness fading away until nothing remained but the taste and smell of marecock. No sensation was left except for the kinetic experience of meeting the base of Candy again and again, her mouth and throat reduced to nothing more than a hole to be used.

That was, until something started nagging more insistently at her, managing to break through the lust-drunk stupor that pervaded her senses otherwise. Not even the moans and exaltations of pleasure that trickled from Candy’s mouth were enough to distract her anymore. She really, really needed to pee.

It seemed Candy sensed this as well, no doubt picking up on the way Fiddle’s body tensed as their time together continued. To this end, she picked up her pace even further. Gone was any sort of tact or measured movement, in its place was a frantic hammering away at Fiddlesticks that she could barely keep up with. So preoccupied was she with steadying herself against Candy that she fatally failed to account for the pressure on her bladder.

Her blood ran cold when she realized what was happening, but by then it was too late to stop it. It was wet and hot, in extreme contrast to the icy shame that ran down her spine. The smell was unmistakable, pooling as it did around her hind legs and soaking through her panties. As Fiddlesticks succumbed to her base needs, so too did Candy.

Her thrusts had grown more and more insistent until finally, with a brief moment of respite as she pulled back, Candy came. It was warm and salty and before she had a chance to greedily swallow, a voice commanded her to wait. So wait she did, a load of marecum on her tongue and a puddle of piss underneath her.

“Stand up.” Fiddlesticks did as she was told, pushing herself to her legs shakily. Her coat was slick with cum and piss. The smell of the two mingled, creating a powerful aroma that dominated her senses.

Candy walked around to behind Fiddlesticks, roughly yanking her panties down and pulling them off of her. She knew where this was going before it happened but it still didn’t prepare her for the sensation of cotton soaked in piss to fill her mouth. She did everything in her power not to gag as her own lewd fluids dribbled down her chin and coated her tongue.

“There! Isn’t that better? You can’t taste anything except my cum and your piss, just as it should be. Although, I think something’s missing…” Candy tapped her chin for a moment, studying Fiddlesticks with intent. “Kneel back down and close your eyes..”

Again Fiddlesticks did as she was told, receiving the harsh reminder that just moments ago she had, in fact, pissed herself. It was demeaning enough to have her mouth stuffed full of it; to be asked to sit yet again in a pool of her own shame was… electrifying, honestly.

The degradation only deepened as she felt a stream of hot piss hit her muzzle, soaking into the cotton gag that occupied her mouth. Seemingly satisfied with the bit of extra flavor added, Candy directed the remainder of the stream to her mane, coating her in the rich stink of a mare who needed to drink more water.

It was… powerful, being owned so completely by another mare that the only thing you could smell or taste was her piss. Fiddlesticks reveled in this feeling, secretly hoping she could stay this way for just a little while longer. Her wish would be granted as she heard the sound of coat-safe bondage tape being unrolled.

She held her head straight and level as Candy carefully began wrapping it around her mouth, holding the cloth gag in place and sealing in all of those flavors that Fiddlesticks had come to be so familiar with. Candy took a step back, seemingly admiring her work with a sadistic gleam in her eyes.

“With that done, why don’t you follow me to the barn? Don’t want to keep the boys waiting too long, eh piss slut?” Without waiting for a response Candy heel-turned and began walking, confident that Fiddlesticks would follow.

And so she did.