On a quiet, pleasant summer night, inside the homestead of Sweet Apple Acres, Strawberry Sunrise fidgeted and wondered how the heck she found herself in the situation she did.
She’d turned up at the front door, not but a few minutes ago. The idea of even turning up at Sweet Apple Acres was anathema to her, but after helping save her harvest after recovering from a wing injury, she owed Applejack and some more of the Apple family.
The moment Strawberry stepped through the door, Applejack hurried her through the foyer and into the kitchen. The smell of smoke, oil, and fried vegetables hung in the air, and messy pans and plates sat on the counter. Despite the chaos that all that implied, the space was remarkably clean.
Applejack had dipped beneath Strawberry’s skirt a few minutes ago, and whatever she was fiddling with, it pinched Strawberry and made her squirm more, shuffling her hooves and wringing her hands.
“Sorry, sugar cube,” Applejack drawled. All Strawberry could make of her was her mane, tied back and slung over one shoulder, and her hips and tail, clad in and poking out above a pair of worn-down denim jeans. “Didn’t mean to nick y’there.” There was an audible click, and Applejack leaned back, smiling at Strawberry. She was without her hat, but between it being late and being indoors, Strawberry supposed it made sense. It definitely looked a little weird.
“I feel like I’m making a mistake,” said Strawberry. She tried to keep her hands calm, laid flat at her sides, but one had reached for the table, bunching up the deep green tablecloth, and the other fiddled with the hem of the dress.
“Not too late to back out.” Applejack chuckled and stood up, rising a few inches above Strawberry. “I ain’t said a word to the others about you, so all I’d be is a little disappointed I ain’t got some fun out of it.”
Strawberry shook her head though she struggled to maintain eye contact with Applejack. Instead, she kept her eyes on Applejack’s throat, the defined shape of her neck and collarbone poking out from the loosely buttoned shirt. Usually, that would be covered in fluff on a pegasus like Strawberry, hiding anything bar cleavage, but Applejack was the descendent of a hard-working, hard-sweating family. “I’d rather just do it this way and get it over with than worry and stress over the debt for months and months.”
“It’s not like I’d try to bankrupt you, but if you’re sure.” Applejack let the words hover momentarily, then turned to the kitchen’s outside door. “I’m gonna go fetch a few bottles o’ cider; let you stew a moment more on this. I’d rather you chickened out now than halfway through.”
Strawberry almost spoke out, wanting to insist, but Applejack was already out the door, leaving Strawberry alone. With a sigh, she leaned backwards on the table beside her, sitting on the edge while her curled-up hands helped support her.
Aside from a bowl of fruit—unsurprisingly, it had little variety—the panties and bra Strawberry formerly wore laid flat across the surface. She had to admit it was somewhat liberating not wearing either in the light dress, but something about errant breezes and hungry eyes nibbled at her brain.
She was pretty sure that was the whole point of removing them.
There wasn’t much time to ruminate on the situation, and it turned out Applejack really did only need to step out. She must have kept a crate just outside, maybe in the shade, to be easily accessed, and she had several bottles shared between two of her hands. As she walked by Strawberry, she made a follow-me motion with the remaining free fingers, and Strawberry did as she was told.
Stepping into the living room, Strawberry was greeted by the smell of smokey wood and the lingering scent of sugar. Stacking some small plates covered in pie crumbs, Applejack plopped the bottles onto the table in the middle of the room before the widest sofa, then deposited herself in the middle of it and beside another earth pony mare, one with pale green fur and a messy red mane held up in a bun. Whatever words were shared before fell quiet, and eyes rose to meet Strawberry’s, sending heat to her face.
“Is that…?” the pony beside Applejack started.
“I think it is,” drawled yet another mare, sitting on the floor with her legs curled under her. She was a pastel green earth pony with a blonde mane, small, slight, and probably slimmer than Strawberry. Strawberry recognised her; she was Apple Munchies. “Something you ain’t telling us, cousin?”
Applejack chuckled and gestured to Strawberry. “’ Member the help I called you for about two months back? Well, seein’ as it cost us individually a little and collectively a lot, I floated a few ideas her way, and one seemed particularly interestin’ to her.” She then settled her eyes on Strawberry but not her face. “Lift your dress for us, sugar cube. No sense beating around the bush ’bout why you’re here.”
Strawberry worried her cheeks were turning red as her mane, and she hesitated momentarily. After an insistent nod from Applejack, with another pointed gesture and some eye contact, Strawberry did as she was told and hiked up her dress. She exposed her thighs and hips, flat tummy and waist, and then bunched the fabric over her breasts. While she was slim, she had shape and apparently enough to get some oohs and aahs around the room.
“What’s with the thingy around her thingy?” asked the third and final mare. She looked like a heavier-set earth pony version of Strawberry, though whatever curves Strawberry lacked, she had in spades. “Looks kinda uncomfortable.”
The thing in question was a metal frame strapped around Strawberry’s sheath. It had just enough room to fit and nothing more, and already the blood was flowing and making her nethers tingle where it touched.
“That is…” Applejack trailed off and hummed. “Actually, why don’t you explain it, Strawberry. Tell us why I caged you up?”
After a moment of grumbling, Strawberry answered. “We’ve chosen to pay off my debt by being your plaything—all of you. I am here for your pleasure, not for mine.” She pressed her thighs together, pushing her sack forward.
“I know it don’t exactly pay the rent or taxes,” Applejack added. “I’ll be footin’ the bill to y’all, so you’re covered. Not sure Granny will be happy that I’m doin’ so, but I’m the one who does the financials.”
“Ain’t that the thing I brought?” the mare beside Applejack said. She was pointing at Strawberry’s crotch.
“Eeyup,” Applejack said, then popped open a bottle on the side of the table and handed it to her. “But I figured you wouldn’t mind me borrowin’ it, Apple Dumpling. The keys’re still in your luggage.”
“Well, it’s a good look on ya, if you don’t mind my saying.” Apple Dumpling leaned over Applejack, an arm outstretched to pat Strawberry’s balls from beneath. “Nothing better than a perfect pair of dumplings to savour and focus on, I say.” Apple Dumpling made a pleased noise, then sipped her cider.
Applejack elbowed Apple Dumpling, forcing her to settle back and spray a little cider over herself as she snickered.
“Don’t you dare get any of that on the furniture, y’hear?” Applejack chided, shaking her head.
Strawberry dropped her skirt back down, though as she did, she finally noticed what she hadn’t before. Munchies had slipped behind her, and it was just then her hands cupped Strawberry’s backside, her fingers brushing her thighs.
“It’s a shame there ain’t more of us here to enjoy you,” said Munchies softly, resting her chin on Strawberry’s shoulder. She had to rise on her tippy hooves, pressing her chest into Strawberry’s back. “But the fact most of ’em had to turn in means we get a bigger share.” With a giggle, she squeezed her fingers and palms together, gripping Strawberry’s ass tightly.
Every ounce of willpower that Strawberry had went into keeping her mouth shut, her voice quiet, and her hands at her sides.
“C’mon and sit over here, sugar cube,” said Applejack, and she gestured not to the spare seat on the sofa but to her lap. With less hesitation that time, Strawberry sat down on Applejack’s legs. Once settled, Applejack had her knees between Strawberry’s, and she forced her legs apart. Her skirt rode up, and Applejack helped it along a little more, putting her balls and caged-up member on display.
Without knowing where to put her hands, Strawberry placed them on her lap and helped Applejack a little by pinching the skirt between her wrists and thighs.
Now that her hands were free, Applejack reached up and tugged at the front of the sundress, pulling one of the straps down Strawberry’s shoulder. Peeling the cotton down, she cupped a hand around one of Strawberry’s breasts, pressing her palm down against her chest.
Rules be damned, Strawberry couldn’t help herself, and a pleasured whimper floated up and out her lips.
Munchies sat on the remaining open seat on the sofa and cooed. “Oh, that was an adorable noise. I wonder what others she can make?”
Dumpling reached over again, though she needn’t travel as far, and again her fingers met Strawberry’s balls. She cupped and squeezed them firmly but deftly, twisting Strawberry’s legs. When she tried to pull them together, though, the combined effort of all three seated cousins held her thighs tight, refusing to let her shut her legs.
While Applejack worked her tits and Dumpling worked her balls, Munchies decided it was her place to give Strawberry’s head plenty of attention. With her free hand, she cupped Strawberry’s jaw, her fingers curled up almost to her ear and forced Strawberry to look Munchies in her deep, orange eyes.
Half a second later, both mares had their eyes shut as their lips met, and tongues followed.
That, Strawberry could work with, and she leaned into the kiss, pressing her chest harder against Applejack’s hand. As if she feared Strawberry was trying to escape, Applejack brought her other hand into play, peeling the dress down a little further and squeezing the caps of each tit between her fingers.
The moan Strawberry breathed into Munchies was immediately sent back, hot and lurid, while their tongues took turns pushing against each other.
The cage made itself known as Strawberry’s excitement grew, as her prick wanted to fill and join in the fun but instead pressed itself to its confines. Each heartbeat brought a dim ache, each throb pulsing against the cage as if trying to break it.
There wasn’t much chance of that.
Eventually, Munchies broke the kiss off, seemingly having her fill. Strawberry’s eyes opened lazily, staring at the grinning green mare and barely noticing the bridge of spit between their tongues. She didn’t get the time to savour it as the hand on her jaw gently turned her head to face forward again, and she was face to face with the remaining mare’s crotch.
“Bumpkin here has something for you, hon,” Munchies said, purring out the words.
“Take yer time,” Bumpkin said, grinning down at Strawberry. The pegasus couldn’t get herself to make contact with those big, amber eyes. “Get familiar with me. I want you to decide when you’re ready to take it in, okay?”
Everything was moving so fast, and Strawberry wasn’t sure how to process the statement—the command, really—other than by nodding and leaning forward once more. This time Applejack let up a little, giving Strawberry some slack, though she refused to let go of her, to stop rolling her fingers from the wide base where boob met rib all the way along to the tensed-up nipples.
Bumpkin—Apple Bumpkin, Strawberry presumed—wasn’t a tiny woman. She was as tall as Applejack and wide-hipped. She had the biggest breasts in the room, which shadowed Strawberry as she closed the gap and obscured Bumpkin’s face.
Her jeans were pulled down, almost peeled off her hips, exposing her cunny to Strawberry.
“How come she gets to go first?” Dumpling whined. “It’s my toy we put on her.”
“You’ll get your chance,” Bumpkin said, laying a hand on Strawberry’s head, giving her a little nudge forward until her snout met the yellow farmer’s pubis.
Strawberry breathed in deeply, letting the smell of sweat and arousal overwhelm her nostrils. The breath she let out was meant to be quiet, but what came out was another whimper and part of her attention again fell to her cock. The cage was starting to pinch her sheath, and she could feel it bouncing a little as her shaft throbbed, eager to escape. A thumb or finger from the hand wrapped around her balls came up to wipe at the tip, bumping over the cage bars.
“At least she’s sure productive,” said Dumpling. “I guess I can enjoy that.”
Applejack chuckled. “Reckon anyone’d question it if I submitted her as breeding stock?”
The four mares around Strawberry chuckled. Meanwhile, she dipped her snout down until her lips met the start of Bumpkin’s slit.
Pushing her lips together, she kissed that first half inch, hoping to feel what Bumpkin wasn’t letting her see. It took a little nuzzling and a few more kisses to understand precisely where things were and how much force she’d need to give to tease her button.
The hum that buzzed through Bumpkin’s body said everything Strawberry needed to know, and she pushed in harder, tilting her head up a little to add her tongue in, slipping it between Bumpkin’s folds.
Bumpkin slowly fell back, controlling her posture with great effort, until her broad hips and ass were on the table while her legs remained spread for Strawberry’s sake. The change in angle gave her better access and an easier time applying her lips and tongue. It even allowed her a little extra depth, resulting in some beautiful shivers from Bumpkin that stood her fur on end. Strawberry braced and balanced herself by placing one hand on the table and wrapping the other around one of Bumpkin’s legs.
“You sure… You can hold that position…?” Bumpkin asked.
Strawberry hoped her silent continuation was confirmation enough.
So engrossed in the act of pleasuring Bumpkin as she was, Strawberry failed to notice that she’d been released by the other mares. At least, that was the case until two pairs of ears brushed against her torso and belly, and her back half bounced on the sofa where she knelt. The heads beneath her came with hands that helped support her weight so her back wasn’t bent as awkwardly by her strange stance. Meanwhile, lips met skin and fur, kissing her tummy and nipping at the underside of her breasts.
Strawberry’s hips, beyond her command, bucked, and she shoved one of the heads down. There was a second of swearing and shuffling, and then she caught Applejack standing from the corner of her eye.
It was only for a second as Bumpkin’s legs rose up, one of them wrapping itself around Strawberry’s shoulders. They locked her in, holding her tight and forcing her to finish the job she had started. As they gave her no choice where to go, Strawberry buried her snout into Bumpkin’s folds, and she ran her tongue the length of her sex, back to front. She tried again, changing the angle of her tongue, the direction of attack, making out with Bumpkin’s nethers in various ways.
Just as Strawberry got Bumpkin shuddering and huffing, clearly trying to keep her blissful cries down, hands grabbed her by the hips and pulled her back. Bumpkin’s hold on Strawberry was strong enough, despite her quivering, that Strawberry was worried her head might pop off. Her face burned while her hair was mussed up and cheeks squished in until she popped free, falling back against the sofa.
Panting, Strawberry was given a moment of rest, other than the combined effort of Applejack and Dumpling pulling her dress over her head. Strawberry’s throbbing, mildly painful attempts to escape her prison drew her attention to her groin. She was bulging against the bars, her balls tensed up in her arousal, while a trickle of something slick and clear ran down into the fuzz of her sack.
The break wasn’t long enough for Strawberry to regain her wits or stop panting. Hands shoved her sideways and rolled her onto her back, forcing her to stare at the ceiling. On the armrest—above Strawberry, in front of her point of view—sat Applejack, her now bare ass in view. She looked remarkably relaxed for a mare whose hand was vibrating back and forth like a piece of farm equipment and was leaning against the back of the sofa while looking down at Strawberry.
A weight was placed onto Strawberry’s hips, and she looked down her body to find Dumpling taking the spot. She’d removed her bottoms, too, revealing a dripping pussy that she’d placed precisely on Strawberry’s groin. She could feel the heat radiating off the mare against her cock, and it craved release.
Dumpling had also lifted her shirt and bra, showing off a pair of big, round tits and her muscle-toned body. Like Applejack, she wasn’t slim, but she was in shape.
Leaning forward, she supported her upper half by placing her hands on Strawberry’s wrists while her straddling hips began to roll, grinding her ass and groin down.
Something in Strawberry was hoping for the impossible, that she would get to feel and enjoy Dumpling’s warmth and depths. When all she got was the aching absence of either, she whined and squirmed underneath Dumpling.
“Please,” Strawberry whined.
Dumpling grinned and lowered herself down. Her breasts squished against Strawberry’s, and being the bigger mare, they engulfed them as she let more and more of her weight down. “Please, what?” she asked.
“Please.” The pegasus’ legs kicked out, though before she could buck hard enough to shove Dumpling off, a weight settled on them, pinning them to the cushions.
“Y’all better not get too loud,” Applejack warned, her tone teasing. “Now tell us what you want. Use your words, sugar cube.”
“Please let me—“Strawberry swallowed. “Please let me fuck you. Please.
Tutting, Applejack shook her head. “That t’weren’t part of the deal, sugar cube. You’re not here for your pleasure; you’re here for ours.”
Strawberry’s whine reached a growling crescendo. “Please! Please, please, please!”
Strawberry’s body ached. Every limb hurt like she’d spent the day working, her head hurt from dehydration, and her balls ached for release to unload everything they’d prepared for the past day.
After the night’s teasing, and each of the remaining Apples had retired to bed in the small hours of the morning, Strawberry had stumbled out of Applejack’s home and found herself a secluded space in one of the smaller buildings on the farm. She’d spent the past few hours trying, fruitlessly, to get off, but no amount of groping her bollocks and squeezing her tits did the trick. By the end of it, all she’d managed to do was make a puddle of her own spit and pre-cum that soaked into the hay on the floor.
That’s where Applejack found her later in the morning. Despite the night’s activities, she looked rather put together, with just the bags under her eyes to tell the tale. She wore her usual jeans and button-up, with her iconic stetson where it belonged, all while carrying a tray. The only other things on it, besides a plate of toast and a mug of coffee, were the clothes Strawberry had arrived in.
“How’re you feeling today, sugar cube?” Applejack asked. She set the tray down in front of Strawberry and sat beside her.
Strawberry just groaned in response.
With a chuckle, Applejack nodded. “That sounds about right. We put you through the wringer, that’s for sure.” She picked up the mug, blew over the top, and then held it out for Strawberry to take.
Lazily, Strawberry grasped for it and sat up enough to sip at it safely.
It didn’t take away all the aches, but it was good.
“At least I can safely say I’m satisfied. Yer debt’s paid, as far as I’m concerned, plus we all got some cheerful memories out of it, wouldn’t ya say?”
Strawberry glared at Applejack and garnered another chuckle from her.
“C’mon. Don’t tell me you ain’t take a shine to Munchies, at least.”
Sighing, Strawberry looked away. “Yeah.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Strawberry caught Applejack’s gaze fall down to Strawberry’s groin, and she bit her lip. “Ah. I guess we got too caught up to realise that.”
Strawberry blinked, then followed Applejack’s gaze to her groin. Yep, the cage certainly hadn’t gone anywhere in the hour since Strawberry last attempted to remove it. She then looked to Applejack, who had the grace to look away and rub the back of her head, tilting the stetson forward.
“Can we take this thing off now?”
“Yeah,” Applejack said. “About that.”
With a grunt, Strawberry thunked the mug on the table and leaned forward on her hands and knees. “Please, take it off.”
“So, uh. You know how I said Dumpling had the key to it since it’s technically hers and all?” Clearing her throat, Applejack turned back to Strawberry. “She left at first light, headin’ back to Manehattan. She has the key.”
After a few seconds of staring, all Strawberry could manage was a flat “What.”
“I know, I know. We should have planned for that. For what it’s worth, we can still try and take it off before we see her again. I’m sure I can remove it with some of my tools—“
Suddenly and instinctively, Strawberry placed both her hands over her groin.
“—Oorrr, we can wait a year until she comes back over. I ain’t gonna be able to get over there unless some big national problem calls me over, and she’s gonna be too busy to come over here.” Applejack beamed at Strawberry. “Something tells me I ain’t sure you have the time or wherewithal to head over and ask her to uncage your hen. I s’pose that leaves us with just two options. Saw now, or wait a year?”
They almost didn’t seem like options to Strawberry. She was aching. She had to take it off right away. The idea of waiting a year to be uncaged, to get her relief… A single night was already driving her nuts.
On the other hand, fuck putting anything sharp to her dick.
Falling back onto her butt, Strawberry answered with a meek, “I’ll wait.”
Author's Note
Thank you for reading! This was a commissioned work, and if you would like one of your own, click here!
