Digging Deep

“Is everything alright in there?” Shaka called out, lightly tapping on the door.

“E - uh - Eeeyup,” Mac warily replied, glancing to the bathroom’s exit.

Everything wasn’t alright, but he - no, she wasn’t about to say that. Turning her attention back to her reflection, she was overcome with a strange cocktail of anxiety, pride, and just the smallest bit of lust. It had been nearly two months since she’d surprised her big, burly stud with the lingerie she’d gotten from Rarity, and her life, much like her body, had gradually been changing since then.

First and foremost, she’d started dating her lover - well, sort of dating him. She’d visit her coltfriend every single day, sometimes twice if she was lucky, and she’d even stayed at his place a few times over the past couple of weeks. Though they had yet to go out on a bonafide date in Ponyville, given the little town’s size and the residents’ tendency to gossip, her stud, treated her like his dainty, little mare.

Between the way Shaka treated her, the potion she’d continued taking on a daily basis, and having been locked in chastity for weeks on end, she’d increasingly felt like a mare - so much so that she’d starting thinking of herself as a mare. She knew she was still a stallion in the strictest sense of the word, going to great lengths to act as she always had while on the farm and around her family, although that changed behind closed doors. When she was with herself or with her mate, she was like a totally different pony.

She still didn’t speak much, preferring to stay tacit, but her behavior was nothing like it used to be. Instead of being stoic, impassive, and unreadable, she’d taken to blushing or giggling demurely in Shaka’s presence. What had once been her rich, sonorous voice was now so high that she barely recognized it. If it wasn’t for the fact that she rarely if ever spoke, she’d be willing to bet that ponies would be thrown off by how effeminate she sounded.

The icing on the metaphorical cake, for better or worse, was that her brawny physique was fading by the day. She’d slimmed down quite a bit, her muscles withered away seemingly more and more as every night passed, while her hips and flanks had filled out considerably. As if gradually metamorphosing into a svelte pony hadn’t been astonishing enough in and of itself, even her face looked different.

Were it not for the burnished cage affixed to her groin, she could honestly pass for a mare - a somewhat tall, bashful mare, but a mare nevertheless. Her eyes were wide and bright, her lips were full, and there was a delicate femininity to her features - a femininity made all the more prominent by the makeup she’d taken to wearing while she was around Shaka. Turning her head having snapped snapped from her thoughts by the sound of retreating hooffalls from just outside, she gave herself a final once-over.

Aside from the cosmetics she’d painstakingly applied, she’d slipped into a form-fitting cocktail dress, leggings, and heels. While she wasn’t one to brag, she actually thought she looked pretty good - nevertheless, her anxiety was wreaking havoc on her. Wearing something enticing for her stud was one thing, but going out and about in public, where anypony and everypony could see her dressed in such a scandalous way, was another matter entirely.

She sighed, knowing full well that there was no point delaying the inevitable, and turned to the exit. Shaka had repeatedly told her he’d wanted to take her out for a night on the town, a notion which evoked conflicting feelings within her, and ultimately made her a curious offer. Realizing she had many, many reservations about doing anything in public with him in Ponyville, he’d offered to bring her to Fillydelphia for a weekend.

Stepping out of the bathroom and into the hotel suite, she softly cleared her throat. Her attire, leggings, and the pair of golden hoops hanging from her ears had been carefully selected by none other than Shaka, though this was the first time he would have seen her wearing the particular ensemble. She fidgeted anxiously and kept her eyes on the floor, hearing him approach.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” he rumbled, stopping and looming over her. “And your other accessory?”

She nodded, instantly knowing what he was referring to. Though she’d been in chastity for quite some time, the cage locked to her package was, like her outfit, new. Smaller than the last, the little silver prison that constricted her coin purse and restrained her clit could only be unlocked by a key Shaka had taken to wearing around his neck like medallion - not like she minded.

Turning and going to hike a hind leg, to show off her nethers, he reached out and pressed a hoof to her shoulder. “Not now, darling. I’ll wait to see it until I unwrap you like a Hearth’s Warming gift tonight.”

Giggling to herself, she ground her thighs together and peered up at him. Celestia help her, she really was hopeless around him. Everything about him, from his dulcet, rich voice to the way he smelled, was unfathomably arousing to her. Trotting forward and lifting her head, she closed her eyes and tenderly necked him.

“I presume you’re ready to go,” he hummed, stroking her upper back.

“Mmmhmm,” she quietly replied, relishing his warmth.

He stepped back and away from her, turned to face the door, and offered a forehoof as he peeked over his shoulder at her. “In that case, let’s be off. Our reservation is still thirty minutes away, but I simply can’t wait to see how jealous I’ll make other stallions with you by my side.”

With only the slightest bit of hesitation, she moved up to his side and locked forelegs with him. While she was nervous, there was a certain excitement to actually going out looking the way she did. The logical part of her told her that she had nothing to worry about, that the chances of her running across somepony she knew in Fillydelphia, a town she’d never even been to before, were extraordinarily slim, yet that didn’t comfort her nearly as much as being escorted by her coltfriend.

She trotted along beside him, down the hallway from their room, through the lobby of the hotel, and out onto the sidewalk. The cool night air caused her to shiver slightly and reminded her how quickly autumn would be upon them. Thinking about the upcoming harvest at Sweet Apple Acres, she knit her brow and lowered her gaze.

Though neither Granny Smith, Applejack, nor Apple Bloom had confronted him about it, she was absolutely certain that they knew he’d been up to something behind their backs. She looked different, sounded different, used every opportunity she could to run off and see her lover, and she apparently even smelled different - at least that’s what Shaka had told her. Her best best guess was that her family was simply too polite to directly ask her what she’d been doing with herself, although they had, much to her relief, given her her privacy.

“Such a lovely night,” Shaka remarked, drawing her eye up and over at him. As he looked down upon her, the corners of his lips turned up. “And it’s made all the more wondrous with a beauty like you in it.”

Trying and failing to keep herself from giggling, she batted her hoof at him. Just like that, with a simple line of flattery, he’d managed to derail her worry and bring a smile to her face. She drifted closer to him, bringing their bodies together, and rested her cheek against his shoulder. Things would almost assuredly get complicated in the very near future, with many long, grueling days of harvesting, processing, and selling apples nearly on the horizon, but that would be a problem she’d deal with later - for now, she wished for nothing more than to enjoy her evening with her mate.

Without breaking stride or calling attention to himself, Shaka grunted quietly. “Look across the street…” he whispered.

She lifted her head, glanced to the side, and pursed her lips. Several carts and carriages trundled along the road, there quite a few ponies out and about, and the subtle din of the busy city rang in her ears, leaving her to wonder what he was talking about, but then she noticed it. Lingering on the other side of the street, a trio of young stallions peered over at her.

“I bet they wish they were as lucky as me,” Shaka smugly noted, keeping his voice low and his eyes forward. “Don’t be afraid to show yourself off a bit - after all, we both know who that juicy flank of yours belongs to…”

The titan slowed, fell slightly behind her, and drew a forehoof up her hind leg. As her dress was drawn up her thigh, nearly high enough to reveal her backside, she had to fight to keep her tail from flagging. Regardless of where she was, what she was doing, or who was around, being teased by her stud had a way of making her weak in the knees. Glancing back at the zebra, seeing him nod subtly back in the direction of the three stallions she’d spotted, she turned her head and bit back a smile.

Her admirers had gone from passively watching her to actively ogling her - for buck’s sake, one of them stared with his mouth hanging open! As she walked past the three, emboldened and more than a little turned on by the attention, she flicked her tail up to the side and gave them a peek at her backside. She would have been happy to have them keep gawking at her, undressing her with their eyes, but one was bold enough to issue a wolf-whistle.

“See,” Shaka chuckled, straightening her dress and striding back up beside her, “I told you that you looked gorgeous.”

She blushed and kissed his neck in thanks, appreciating his impromptu, admittedly risque bit of encouragement. He’d praised her looks since the moment they’d first spoken, and was quick to reassure her that she was attractive, yet being catcalled by a total stranger stroked her ego like few things ever had. Continuing in silence, simply happy to be with him, she followed him down another three city blocks until they’d reached their destination.

Stopping at the entrance of the restaurant, an extremely fancy establishment named Pomme Dorée, he stopped and opened the door for her. “Mares first…”

Demurely dipping her head at him, she stepped inside and was struck by how opulent the establishment was. She’d gone on the date blind, only having been told that he was going to give her a night she’d never forget, yet she’d been unprepared to find herself in the lap of such luxury. Stopping just within the foyer, she marveled at the well-dressed customers, the bustling staff, and the grandeur in which she stood.

“Reservation for two,” Shaka began, trotting over to a small podium and what she presumed was a waiter. “It should be under Shaka Eze.”

The pony, a mare in a vest and jacket, lifted and inspected a clipboard. “Right this way, Mr. Eze.”

“Please,” Shaka laughed, “call me Shaka. Come along now, Delicious, let’s not keep the fine maître d' waiting.”

Nodding, Mac quickly but smoothly sauntered up to him. As an extra bit of precaution, just in case they did stumble upon somepony who was familiar with the Apple family tree, Shaka had gone so far as to craft an alias for her. When they were in their suite, he’d refer to her as he always had, but she was Delicious Tart when they were within earshot of anypony else. She came to a halt when they were shown their table and allowed him to pull out a chair for her.

Waiting until she’d seated herself, Shaka trotted around and eased himself into his chair across from her. “Quite a nice place.”

She nodded and looked around, drinking in the atmosphere. Compared to the Hayburger in Ponyville and the hoofful of fast-food joints she’d stopped at while on family trips, the restaurant was an absolute palace. Ambient music drifted softly from a number of violinists, she could smell all sorts of exotic, unfamiliar spices, and everypony, including the staff, looked fantastic. While she’d be the first to admit that she was entirely out of her element, she beamed all the same.

“Would you like to…,” Shaka cut himself off, shifting his focus over to a waiter who appeared at their tableside. “Yes, I’ll take a caesar salad, the chef’s quiche, and an apple strudel for dessert.”

The server nodded and scribbled the order down before looking over at Mac. “And for the Missus?”

Put on the spot, she stiffened in her seat. How in the hay was she supposed to know what to order? She didn’t even know restaurants like the one she was sitting in existed, let alone that she’d actually visit one someday! She reached for the menu, praying she’d be able to see something she recognized, and started when Shaka reached out and patted her forehoof.

“Would you like me to order for you?” he inquired.

She quickly nodded, relieved beyond measure that she wouldn’t have to make a spectacle of herself while looking at dishes she’d likely never heard of. Lifting and offering the menu to the server, she smiled over at Shaka. Darned if she knew what he ended up ordering for her, some sort of salad, an entree, and a dessert by the sound of it, but she trusted his judgment implicitly.

“Oh and one more thing,” Shaka stated, catching the waiter before he left. “I’d like a bottle of your finest sparkling cider, if you’d be so kind.”

“Of course,” the server cheerfully affirmed, jotting everything down. “I’ll have your cider and some freshly baked rolls out to you shortly.”

Swinging his attention back over at her, the mohawked goliath reached across the table and pawed at Mac’s foreleg. “Don’t worry, so long as you’re with me, you’re in good hooves.”

“Eeeyup,” she coyly murmured, blushing beneath the chandelier under which they sat.

There were a number of things she loved about Shaka, although one of the best was that he never pressed her for conversation. He could talk with her for hours on end, regaling her with stories of his homeland or his past, without her having to say a word. On the occasions when he did have questions for her, or needed a response of some sort, she could often answer with body language alone.

Gazing into her eyes, he flashed his teeth. “You know, in case you would like something to do tomorrow, there are a number of specialty shops in Fillydelphia that we could visit - shops that cater to certain adult clientele…”

What he hadn’t said spoke volumes, sending blood rushing to her nethers. Her clit feebly twitched within its confines, titillated by the prospect of something naughty, while her pucker winked in excitement. Shifting in her seat, gave a bashful nod.

“Splendid,” he quietly remarked, reclining in his chair. “There are a few things I was hoping to buy for you, since we’re afforded such a rare opportunity, and I’d love for you to help pick them out.”

Her mind went wild, thinking of all the sinful possibilities. He’d done more than just open her eyes to the wonders of what a true stallion could offer, making her feel things that were too incredible to put into words, and his creativity within the bedroom was seemingly limitless. He’d trussed her up like a hog, used blindfolds on her, edged for what felt like hours, and given a number of slatternly garments to wear, pushing the envelope and dragging her into deeper depths of depravity throughout their relationship.

“Would you like that?” he inquired, peaking a brow and prompting her to eagerly nod. “Good, because I’d like to find you a collar, though that begs a question; would you like one with something cute like Princess or something naughty Slut to be emblazoned upon it?”

Gnawing her bottom lip, she locked eyes with him. Imagining herself wearing a collar and being leashed to him was painfully arousing - to the point where she felt a bead of pre-cum escape her cage and creep down her coin purse. While they hadn’t had sex the since they’d arrived in Fillydelphia, having come in on a midnight train, she knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. It wasn’t a matter of if Shaka bent her over and plowed the cum out of her, but when.

Withdrawing and inspecting his hoof, Shaka pretended to pay her no mind. “I suppose we can wait to see what catches our fancy,” he mused, “but don’t think you’ll be the only one getting anything new to wear. I’ve been considering buying a - no, I really shouldn’t spoil it…”

She subconsciously leaned forward, bringing herself closer to him, and held her breath. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never seen him wear anything whatsoever, so the mention of him buying a garment immediately piqued her interest. Waiting for a reply that didn’t come, she pouted and gave a quiet snort of frustration.

His eyes swept back over to her and settled on her face, before he innocently shrugged. “Would you like me to ruin it or would you rather wait and be surprised?”

Squint at him, she held his gaze. A surprise would almost assuredly be nice, especially any surprise he was going to give her, yet she was dying to know what he intended to purchase for himself. As she forced herself to sit back and straighten up, she cleared her throat and waved for him to continue.

“Fine,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “If you must know, I’ve been considering getting a harness for myself - not expressly for myself, but because I thought you may enjoy it.”

Images of him strutting around in such a getup, having thick leather straps clinging to his chest and back, flitted through her mind. He was a paragon of masculine strength, being as handsome as he was strong, and there wasn’t a thing she would change about him - that being said, she would love to see what he looked like adorned in something overtly kinky. Reaching down between her thighs, she rubbed at her cage.

Glancing to the table then back to her face, he shook his head and waved a hoof. “Ah ah -” he tutted. “While I’m glad to see you’re excited by the idea, you must behave yourself. Good little mares only touch themselves if they’re given permission ~ correct?”

She tore her eyes off him and nodded, realizing she’d made an error. Though he was loving, generous, and always left her satisfied, he was strict with her. Proper behaviors, like dressing well, speaking softly, and placing his needs above her own, were rewarded, while unbecoming transgressions were met with disdain and small punishments. She didn’t think he’d ever do anything to hurt her, genuinely unsure if he even was capable of getting angry, yet his disappointment in her was enough to make her feel awful.

“Good. Now that we’re - oh!” he chirped as the server reappeared. “Thank you, my good stallion.”

The waiter placed their salads on the table, poured each of them a flute of sparkling cider, then assured them he’d be back shortly to check on them. Mac looked down and inspected what she swore was just a slice carved from a head of lettuce drizzled with some sort of dressing and shaved cheese. Having given the dish a sniff, she lifted her fork and helped her to an experimental nibble.

She couldn’t say exactly what it was she was eating, but the greens were amazing. Forcing herself to eat slowly, she savored each bite of what would be the first course of her meal. Either out of luck or the skilled staff at the restaurant, their entrees were delivered mere minutes after they’d finished with their salads. Both she and her lover relished the food, only pausing to sip their cider or to exchange bites with one another, yet there was a subtle tension in the air between them.

A lick of the lips here, a wink there, the almost imperceptible flaring of nostrils - though they didn’t speak, appearing to do only be enjoying their dinner, there was an exchange between them. The look in Shaka’s cold, unyielding eyes was almost predatory, boring into her like she would be his real dessert that evening, and it thrilled her to no end. Reclining and extending one hind leg beneath the table, she caressed his thigh with her hoof.

Dabbing his mouth with a napkin, only barely having touched his strudel, he grinned over at her. “I think I’ll save the rest of this for later,” he grunted.

He quickly but politely waved down a server, asked for their desserts to be packaged to go, and asked for the bill. As soon as the check arrived and Shaka slipped from his chair, Mac unseated herself. The dinner had been exquisite, easily the most sophisticated she’d ever had, but she’d lost interest in it some time ago. She stuck to the zebra’s side as he paid for their meal, thanked the maître d', and exited back into the night.

Languidly trotting down the sidewalk and in the direction of the shopping district, he glanced over at her. “Now that we’re finished, what would you…”

He trailed off as she stepped in front of him and turned to face him. It had always been hard for her to seize the initiative with him, effectively having had to retrain the way she thought about stallions, although he’d taught her well. Standing tall and reaching up, she wrapped a foreleg around his neck, closed her eyes, and locked lips with him.

It only took him a moment to reciprocate her affection, dropping their bagged desserts to embrace her. His hot breath washed over her face as he drove his thick tongue past her lips and into her muzzle. She shivered in delight, uncaring of the scene they were making, and softly moaned. While she may have surprised him with the kiss, he quickly put her on her back hoof.

Pulling away, he peered down his snout at her. “I see somepony’s feeling a bit feisty…”

It took everything she had not to avert her gaze, but she managed to hold firm and give a little nod. So what if somepony saw them kissing? What did it matter that she was a pony and he was a zebra? As far as she was concerned, she was just a happy, very aroused mare on a date with her hulking, studly coltfriend.

He looked past her, his eyes settling on something behind her, and grunted. “Are you still hungry?”

She opened her mouth to reply, wondering what in the world he was talking about, yet she remained silent when she heard a loud, meaty smack. Her hair stood on end, her heart skipped a beat, and her tail twitched reflexively, knowing full well what had made the sound. Leaning to the side and peeking beneath him, she spotted his semi-rigid stallionhood.

“Follow me,” he instructed, trotting by her and into a nearby alley.

Trotting along after him, she trailed him into a shadowy backstreet. After walking several dozen paces away from the road, he suddenly stopped, reared onto his hind legs, and braced his forehooves against one wall. Though their surroundings were anything but romantic, the sight of his silhouette in the gloom was stunning. Flexing his pelvis and sending blood surging into his swelling length, he stared over at her and smiled broadly.

She knew what was expected of her, yet their surroundings made her hesitate. Though it was especially dark in the alley, there was nothing stopping any passers by from seeing her and Shaka. As she twisted and looked behind herself, hearing two townsponies trotting by, her raging libido grappled with her better judgment.

“Don’t be afraid,” he purred.

Steeling herself, she looked back at him. For buck’s sake, she’d let random zebras rut her ass and her face before, so it shouldn’t matter if a stranger she never saw again got to watch her choking on her coltfriend’s cock! She didn’t even have to duck as she sauntered under him and faced his swaying, titanic endowment.

There wasn’t much room to maneuver in the cramped confines beneath him, but she had enough room to work with. Lifting one forehoof to fondle and lovingly knead his balls, she lolled out her tongue, closed her eyes, and wrapped her lips around the tip of his shaft. Even though he’d showered before they’d left, wishing to look his very best for their date, the taste of his flesh and the scent of his loins made her depths ache with desire.

“Mmmmm,” he hummed above her, lightly bucking his hips and driving his stallionhood to snout.

Pinned with her rump against the wall, she hastily took in a lungful of air and relaxed her throat. There were times when he’d be more forceful than others, fucking her face with what felt like very little restraint, and she could tell that this would be one of those times. Her eyelids fluttered and she willed herself to remain still, as he thrust forward.

The fabric around her collar stretched from the intrusion, digging into her neck, while her throat bulged from the intrusion. She’d gotten used to fellating him, getting practice every time they were together, but she wouldn’t call herself a professional by any means. Though her eyes watered and her esophagus spasmed around him, she pushed herself forward and stared at his crotch.

He rarely if ever chastised her, almost always praising her for her skills, but that was because she avoided giving him a reason to. She knew she could do more than just stand there and be used like a toy, and that was all the motivation she needed to test herself. Inch after girthy inch of his shaft disappeared into her snout and down her gullet. Most mares would have struggled to accommodate somepony as massive as Shaka - then again, she wasn’t like most mares in a number of ways.

Bucking her hips and flagging her tail, she hoped she wasn’t going to stain the inside of her dress with too much pre-cum. Even without touching herself, she was leaking like a faucet, feeling the warmth of her excitement dribbling down her coin purse. Since he’d locked her up, having gone so far as to confiscate her dildos, he’d made sure that the only way she could get off would be if and when he let her.

As she did what she could to please him, gagging and weakly bobbing her head in tune with his plunges, her desires grew stronger and stronger. The teal of her lipstick streaked over his pistoning shaft, sharply contrasting his dark flesh, and she could tell her mascara was running. Regardless of what he ended up doing with her, she’d have to find some way to tidy herself up before leaving the alley.

He grunted and slowed to a halt before rolling his hips back and withdrawing a portion of his length. “Turn around…”

She practically threw herself backward, freeing his cock from her maw and awkwardly turning in place. Though she’d expected him to move, to mount her and plow her like he usually would, he didn’t budge. Twisting her head to peek up at him, she found him smirking down at her. It was in that moment, looking to the ice-blue of his eyes, that she understood what he wanted.

Leaning forward and raising her waist, she lifted her tush until she felt the weight and heat of his stallionhood settle into the cleft of her ass. He knew she wanted it, that her yearning to be claimed had eclipsed her fears about being spotted by anypony who happened to look in their direction, and that somehow made the scandalous situation all the more arousing. Determined to make the clumsy position work, she smiled when she finally managed to bring her eager, sensitive hole to the head of his cock.

Moments before she could buck back and impale herself on him, he chuckled and started fucking her. There was no warm-up up, nor was there a gradual escalation - he simply hilted her in a single lunge, readjusted the way he stood, and began pounding into her. The rutting was so sudden and intense that she had to cover her mouth to keep herself from howling out in bliss.

“I’m - Mmmph - wonder how often whores get fucked like this in Fillydelphia,” he growled.

She tensed hearing his words, stricken by how obscene and electrifying they were. Had anypony noticed them, they’d likely think she was some mare of the night attempting to make a few bits from a particularly large john. More turned on than she cared to admit, she clenched and relaxed her backdoor to milk his shaft.

Situated as she was, resting her face on one foreleg while trying to push back and meet his thrusts, she closed her eyes and fixated on the sinful pleasure he afforded. She’d assumed it would be difficult to get comfortable and she’d been correct, yet her rapture would not be denied. With her prostate ground to dust by his thick medial ring, she inched closer and closer to her limit with his every plunge.

The physical elements of being fucked by him were phenominal, although it was the psychological factors that ultimately did her in. In another time and another life, she very well could very well see how she’d end up selling her body to huge, strong stallions for money. Picturing what she must have looked like, her makeup smeared and her mane a mess, she whimpered and blew her load to the cold ground under her.

Though he didn’t stop screwing her, he shifted his weight, reached down, grabbed one of her hind legs and pulled it into the air. The position he moved her into was vulgar, like something out of a pornographic magazine or peep show, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love it. His weight on her back, his breath in his ear, and the sublime feeling of being stuffed with his stallionhood were the things she lived for.

She scarcely cared what he was doing, too enwrapt by the ecstasy of her climax to be bothered, but the sound of hushed whispers and a gasp wrenched her from her stupor. Looking over and toward the street, to the source of the noise, she spied two ponies watching from just beyond the alley. While she would have panicked moments prior, being anxious about being spotted, the sanity-shattering pleasure of being rutted by the virile demigod that was her mate stripped her of her common sense.

Comprehending what he was doing, feeling him draw her dress up to her waist, she went to tell him she wanted more but howled in delight when he altered the angle of his thrusts. Barely able to stay standing, with her cage bouncing about on her crotch, she slung ropes of spunk as her orgasm rebounded. He wanted to make a spectacle of her, to show their little audience that he could make her cum on command, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Nnnm! Ah! Mnnn! Aaagh!” she pitiably mewled, her eyes rolling wildly.

Though it was hard for her to see or do anything other than moan, she could tell that one of the ponies watching them was a stallion. She would have thought that anypony who’d unwittingly stumble upon such a depraved scene would run away, not wanting to bear witness to something so lecherous, yet the pair stared at her in open awe. Delirious with pleasure, feeling Shaka drape his head over her shoulder, she turned and hotly made out with her lover.

In spite of being shown off and having her identity as a stallion blown, giving the bystanders an unfettered look at her chaste clit, she didn’t think she’d ever been more excited in her entire life. His passionate kiss, the way he was deep-dicking her, the twinges of pain from his heavy balls beating against her coin purse - everything was simply perfect, drowning out what little shame she felt. She groaned around his tongue and tightened her battered hole around him, thanking him in the only way she could for choosing to be with her over anypony else.

He lasted what could have been a lifetime, plowing every drop of jizz she had out of her until her climaxes were dry, until things came to a head. His hammering hips lost all rhythm, he grunted and trembled, and she could sense him flaring deep inside of her. Though she’d known this moment would come, that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d pumped his virile seed into her, she reveled in knowing what was coming.

Giving a final, unstoppable plunge, he fully hilted himself, broke their kiss, and clamped his teeth on her collar. The pain was intoxicating, transcending her bliss and robbing her of her sanity, and it was too much to bear. Her hind leg, the lone limb she’d been standing on, gave out and she crashed to the earth. As she unceremoniously unsheathed herself from his throbbing length, his seething essence painted her back, mane, and one side of her face, leaving her looking like a freshly glazed danish.

He looked down at her with an amused, contented expression for several seconds, until he finally released her leg. “Maybe the slut collar would be more suited for you after all…”

Heaving air into her chest, clinging to consciousness for her life, she gazed up at him. She should have been upset for any number of reasons, not the least of which being he’d intentionally displayed her package, she just wanted to get back to their suite, take a long, hot shower, and crawl into bed beside him. She attempted to stand but failed, falling back into the puddle of their jizz, and whined to herself.

“If it’s that much of a problem, just wipe yourself off with your dress,” he sighed, stepping over her and blocking the view of her from the public. “I’ll wait right here until you’re ready.”

With a monumental exertion of effort, she somehow managed to get her hooves under herself and pulled the garment up and over her head. He didn’t seem all that concerned about how she looked or what ponies would think of her, yet that gave her little comfort. It took her a few minutes to get herself tidied up, finding herself fortunate that her cage wasn’t easily visible even without her attire, and she stumbled over to him as quickly as he could.

Glancing down at her, he slapped the sullied dress from her hoof. “Just leave that nasty thing here; I’ll just buy you a new one tomorrow.”

A smile graced her lips and she leaned against him, using him for as much physical support as emotional stability. No matter what obstacles life may throw at her, she put her faith in his big, loving hooves. He pecked the top of her head and nodded, elevating her joy, as he walked out and onto the sidewalk with her by her side. They’d only been in Fillydelphia for a day, but the trip had already been a once in a lifetime experience…