The Trottingham Terror gets beat up by a janitor

Sleeper trains were generally more comfortable then regular trains. Coming here, he had taken one of the cheap economy class trains, which had been a mistake. He wasn’t going to be repeating it again, he was rich enough to be able to afford the more expensive trains and the finer things in life. After all Hatter had done and been through, he felt as though he deserved such luxuries.

Behind him, he was pulling a large baggage trunk that rolled over the smooth surface of the platform with a soft rumble, easily able to be held in his magic. Already, he was starting to feel better about this outing. The train that pulled into the station was a grand old thing made out of iron that had been formed and bent into an areodynamic shape, blowing clouds of steam everywhere as it waited to roll on once more.

Now that was a train.

He moved his way over to the train, a nice young colt in a red outfit that made him look like a doorpony holding out a hoof clad in a white velvet glove towards him.
“Help with your luggage, sir?”

Hatter shook his head, “That’s quite alright. I’ve got some life left in my old bones yet,” A polite chuckle followed, before he turned around and almost popped something out of place by improperly lifting his luggage over the lip between the train and the platform.

As he walked past the stallion, he took a moment to note how neatly sewn his uniform was. A custom job, if he wasn’t mistaken. Moving past the rows of economy seats that day passages could sit in, he made his way to his room.

A room on a train. It was an exciting thought. They didn’t build things like that these days. Young ponies were always in too much of a rush burning themselves at both ends to enjoy such luxaries. Ponies were meant to be ponies, not double ended candle sticks.

The room was grand, but cozy. A set of two large couch seats that were big enough to lay in, if you didn’t sprawl out too much, along with a wooden table! He wasn’t sure why he’d gotten quite so excited over the table, but it looked like one that would be found in some fancy manor house, and even had a table cloth and several doilies spread across it.

Looking over the red fabric, he decided that it was some kind of felt or velvet replica. The room also had large windows with blinds that allowed him to look outside. For now it was simply showing off a brick wall, but once the train got moving, there would likely be something more interesting to look at.

There were two luggage shelves overhead, but Hatter wasn’t interested in putting his luggage away. Instead he lay it out across one of the seats, closing the blind at the entrance to the room, then pulling the case open.

Puffy Petals glared hatefully up at him from out of the suitcase, a rag firmly secured in her mouth to prevent her from making too much noise, although honetly he shouldn’t have been too worried as by this point she had completely given up making noise.
She had been neatly packed into the suitcase along with her limbs and several bolts and lengths of silks and fine fabrics. It had been a long time since he had visited the city, and he simply had to buy some fabric, as he didn’t know when he was going to get another chance to do so.

Hefting her from out of the suitcase, he placed her gently down in the seat across from him, ignoring her attempts to glare holes through him once again.
“Now, are you going to scream for help if I remove your gag, or are we going to sit nicely and have a nice time together? The choice is up to you… Nod your head if you understand.”

A stiff nod from the mare, and a gentle smile from him, before he leaned over and gently removed her gag. One would have expected him to dish out some kind of hateful torture from this point onwards. This wasn’t what happened however, instead the stallion moved over to her, gently brushing her brown mane.

Sweet promises of better things to come were uttered, promises that he was going to look after her. Lies or otherwise, the exact details of what was said were lost.

The train begin to roll out of the station, and a stallion with a thinning beard and a failing moustache entered the room, dragging a cart behind him. Being of an obviously polite upbringing, he didn’t even mention the limbless mare currently lying against the chair. If he had been paying closer attention, he might have felt the palpable tension in the air, as if both the ponies were waiting for the other to try and make a move, wordlessly goading each other on.

He wasn’t paying attention however, simply going through the motions of his job.
“Enjoy your tea. Call a member of staff over when you’re done.” With that, he left.

Hatter peered over the plates of teacakes, scones and cucumber sandwiches towards the light red mare.
“This looks delicious doesn’t it? Been absolutely ages since I’ve had tea.”
“Why didn’t you kill me?”
Hatter barked a laugh at this, “Why didn’t I kill you? Because you… Well, you’ve got the spark in you. I hate you so much for what you’ve done, but I don’t do killing any more. I’m a changed pony now.”
“Bullshit. You just want to see me suffer.”

Another soft laugh, followed this time by a long pause as the stallion picked up a butter knife that had been set out, using it to spread butter over a scone as he chewed his lip thoughtfully.

“Now, if I wanted to see you suffer and hurt you, why in the world would I be sitting here serving you tea? If you don’t want tea, it just means more for me… But, you’ve put me in a strange position. I can’t exactly kill you, so now I’m just going to have to look after you.”

A smirk spread across her face, “And how long do you think you’re going to live, you’re so old you’re practically spent already. Are you just going to get bored of me one day and cut my throat?”
Hatter shrugged, “No, but I’m hoping by that point you’ll have learnt some manners, and come to realize that killing ponies isn’t a viable long term solution to anything…” He leaned back in his seat, apple green magic lifting the teapot and pouring it into a set of two teacups. “Ahy… It’s been a long road for me, and I think I’m likely going to end up in Tartarus for my part in it… I never claimed to be any kind of hero, but maybe… Maybe there’s a tiny bit of hope for you?”

He sipped softly at his teacup, then set it down, “Not that it’s all going to be sunshine and rainbows. I’m still totally going to do some pretty terrible things to you, after what you did.
He lifted the teacup to her lips, and although it was clear that she wasn’t really interested in drinking tea, but with the fact she hadn’t had anything to drink in a while, she hadn’t had much to drink. As he gently offered her the teacup, she took a gentle sip of the fluid within.

Hatter slid over next to her, grinning softly to himself as he bought up several items of food and laid them out. Scones, cucumber sandwiches, it was a practical feast of a tea party. As Hatter fed her, he produced a brush from within his jacket, running it gently through her brown mane, gently teasing all the knots out of it.

Once she was fed, Hatter begin to kiss against her body. She shuffled uncomfortably and attempted to pull away, but Hatter didn’t allow her to do so. Several more items slipped from out of his jacket, tape measures and strips of fabric, quickly taking measurements.

It seemed like she was trapped with him. She didn’t feel good about this of course, and desperately wished that she had paid more attention in any of her classes or had done something to make herself more educated. She soon resigned herself to the fact that it would take some kind of genius to think their way out of this one. She was many things, and maybe a bit self centred and overconfident of her abilities, but she was nowhere near a genius.

The most concerning thing about this whole situation was the fact that he was being so nice to her. She would have been fine with the torture and the abuse, but the stallion being nice to her? It was something she never could have expected, and it deeply unnerved her.

Was he just toying with her? Was he going to grow bored and kill her once this was all over? There was no way to know, and that terrified her more then any amount of abuse he could have dished out.

Things only got weirder for her from here, as the stallion had the staff draw water for a bath! She didn’t even know where they’d get that much warm water on a train, or why they were being so nice to Hatter.

Hatter had carried her around on his back, and for a few moments she had considered screaming for help, but she realized that even if she did end up getting the guard involved, she’d end up at the end of a noose for her crimes just as much as Hatter would.

That’d be fine. She wanted out of this situation, but unfortunately she couldn’t muster up the courage to bring this nightmare to an end. As they passed by ponies, instead of looking upon her with worry, they looked upon her with pity.

She wasn’t some broken down mare. She didn’t need or want their pity, and once again she felt rage bubbling up inside of her. Hatter made his way into the bathroom, which was more of an old, out of the way room. It was by no means as fancy as the rest of the train, but it had a tin bathtub in the middle of it, filled with thick lavender bubbles that scented the air and made her even more angry.

Puffy refused to smell like such girly scents. She refused to let this stallion bathe her out of some kind of sick pity… Or maybe he was getting off on it.

She didn’t know, she didn’t care.
“Fuck you,” She spat at the stallion, “I don’t like Lavender.”

Hatter didn’t bother responding to her words. He was busy stripping off his jacket, removing her limbs from within it and placing them on the cold, bare floor, likely one of the only parts of the train that didn’t have carpet.

It was a weird sensation, being able to feel her limbs even though they were detached from her body. As her golden eyes stared at his form, she came to realize just how badly fucked up this stallion was.

She had seen him bare before, when she had stripped him down and tied him to a bed, but seeing him standing, seeing his muscles working, it was… How was he still functioning? How had this bastard survived for so long.

Large battle scars from slashing weapons covered his sides, mixed with circler scars from puncture wounds, and scars she couldn’t even hope to understand the origin of. It looked like he had been dragged through barbed wire, then stabbed and slashed to shit, before managing to drag himself from the grave using sheer spite alone.

And he was by no means a strong stallion. His limbs were thin and looked like they were barely taking his weight. One of his shoulders was swollen. The only part of him that looked like it had any actual mass to it was his flank, which was thick and feminine… Giving the impression of a mare.

“You’re a fucking mess.” She said with a cold laugh.
Hatter nodded, “My jaw and my teeth are fucked too, I took a war hammer to the face and it wasn’t pretty. That’s why you shouldn’t follow the same road as me, this is what it gets you.”

With those words, he picked her up, and despite her many attempts at complaining, she was dumped into the water, which was actually temperate. She felt like a cork bobbing about in a bottle of wine, desperately working her stumps to try and break free or swim, but it didn’t work.

Hatter just stared down at her for a few moments, then bought up the wash sponge, supporting her with his hooves, he used his magic to gently work the sponge into her fur, washing over her body in a series of gentle motions.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have shampoo, so your mane won’t be as nice as it could be.”

She simply glared up at him like a half drowned cat. The stallion gently moved the sponge over the entire surface of her body, before pausing upon reaching her private parts.
“Errr…” The stallion muttered, seeming lost in thought, “This is going to be a weird question, but how do I wash a vagina? If I like, open it up too much, will your womb fill with water or something? Or is it like washing foreskin where your dick don’t f-…” He seemed to take note of her glare and shrugged. “Alright, but if you get a waterlogged vagina, don’t come crying to me.”

With that, he gently worked the sponge against the outside of her vagina, working it into the opening slightly, clumsily cleaning her to the best of his ability. She was not amused in the slightest by this, and it made her feel violated on an incredibly deep level, but she was glad to have his foulness washed from out of her.

Once she was done being washed, Hatter pulled her from out of the bathtub and gently dried her off with a plain white towel. The shame she felt from this was beyond anything she could have really imagined, but at least she was clean, and it was better to be clean then to be comfortable.

With her bath done, Hatter laid her hooves out around her form, producing a… Hoof cleaning kit from within his jacket? She didn’t know why he had so much junk in his jacket, or how he managed to carry it all around with legs as thin as his, but she wasn’t about to ask.
“Mmm. I’ve always had a bit of a thing for hooves you know? Not to a creepy extent, but I’ve always appreciated them. You can tell a lot about a pony by looking at their hooves, like how I can tell that you’ve lived a hard, honest life despite the crimes you’ve carried out.”

As he spoke, he leaned forward, pressing his nose into one of her back hooves and taking a deep sniff that was the creepiest shit she had ever seen, and felt incredibly weird as the sensation was translated over to her.

The stallion glared over to her, before forcing the rag back into her mouth, preventing her from voicing her complaints. With her complaints silenced, he planted a kiss against the frog of her hoof, then dragged a slow seductive lick over it.

“Remember… you deserve all of this. You’ve ruined and torn apart so many lives, and I’m just getting… Revenge for that. You caused this to yourself.”

She was expecting him to follow up that statement with more abuse, but instead he carried on cleaning and caring for her hooves, using the bath water to clean them, before bringing out a hoof-file and cleaning them to perfection.

Once her hooves had been molested and cleaned, they headed back to their room. From here she was sealed back in her suitcase, and she wasn’t able to see or hear anything.

The only thing she could do was sit in darkness and wait for something to happen. She could still feel her hooves, as strange as it was, and with all other sensation cut off, she found whatever feelings and experiences they were having was magnified several times.

She felt a soft tickling, teasing sensation against her hooves from outside her prison, and with a soft squeak she tried to suppress a laugh. What the hell was that freak doing? How could he go from hardcore torture to… Tickling?

The tickling sensation was back. Her back right hoof suddenly lighting up with a firm sensation like feathers being dragged back and forth across it. Normally it wouldn’t have been that bad, but with her body currently just lying in a dark trunk with no light or sound, beyond the odd noise coming from the vibrating train, the sensation was magnified to the point she couldn’t hold back.

A loud laugh ripped forth from her lips as she thrashed about on her back. With the gag in her mouth, she was forced to draw breath in through her nose. This wasn’t torture, it was simply weird! But the sensation grew stronger, and then her back left hoof joined in with the sensation.

She was flopping about like a fish on land in moments, her desperate breaths through her nose instantly being expended by the howling laughter that was attempting to break through the gag and failing to do so.

It seemed that the past day or so was one filled with firsts for her, and this was certainly a first. She couldn’t see anything, and with her only body overwhelemed by the tickling sensation, she couldn’t hear anything over her only laughter. All her senses but touch and taste were shut off, her brain was desperately trying to find whatever stimulation it could, and it seemed that the only stimulation she could get was in the form of this hellish tickling.

She thrashed and writhed, screaming her laughter into the saliva soaked rag. Nobody could hear her, and even if they could, she was being completely ignored. The tickling sensation coming from the feathers being dragged along her frogs suddenly came to a stop, just as quick as it had began, and she was left desperately sucking in breath through her nose.

It felt like Puffy was suffocating. Losing control of her own ability to draw breath was scary. It was as if her own body was attempting to choke the very life from out of her.

A cool sensation splattered across her hooves next, some kind of oil or cooling substance. She didn’t care what it was, it felt good on her overstimulated frogs, and forced a soft gasp from her lips.

What the fuck. What was even happening? Then cooling sensation quickly turned to a warm one, and then it felt like her frogs were burning! It felt as though she had suffered some severe allergic reaction. She writhed softly and tried desperately to will her front hooves to move as the oil was applied to them, but there was nothing that she could do.

They weren’t currently a part of her. They were completely out of her control and all she could do was lie there and hope that the torture was over instantly.
All four of her hooves felt like they were on fire, and there was nothing she could do to get away from it.

The tickling sensation got even more intense, feathers now working her front hooves, while what felt like the hooves of the monsterious stallion himself worked at her back hooves.

She couldn’t hold herself back, coiling and writhing like a spider in a frying pan, her stumps frantically waving at the ground as she writhed and squirmed in a desperate and failed attempt to get free.

The sensation was frying her poor brain, laughter kept trying to howl from her lips as her nose worked desperately to draw all the breath it could, but was unfortunately unable to do so.

Her mind. She could feel her mind starting to fail as it lost the ability to put coherent thoughts together and instead was only able to focus on the sensation of her hooves being brutally assaulted.

Air. Her body was soon screaming out for it, her nostrils flaring in an incredibly unladylike fashion as she desperately tried to pull more oxygen into her blood. By this point, the limbless red mare was curled up, as if she was attempting to fold herself in half. Tears were starting to form in the corners of her eyes, and folding herself over was not doing anything to disuade the constant overstimulation.

She was dying! Why the fuck was she dying? Her body was compressing itself by doubling over, preventing her from drawing air easily into her lungs and instead forcing it out. She couldn’t breathe. The tickling had forced every ounce of air from her lungs and she was dying! She was choking on her own laughter in the most literal of senses.

And then just like that it was over. She was left lying on her back in the box, her burning, screaming lungs heaving to try and allow her the chance to recover. Her tingling hooves were left with an after-image of the sensation, something she hated to admit, actually felt pretty good.

For now she could simply lie there like some kind of dazed fish, her poor hooves lying somewhere, completely at the mercy of a stallion she hated with every fibre of her being. She hated it. She hated it! There, her thoughts were starting to collect themselves, and she was starting to get her senses back. And then she felt some kind of soft roller against her back hoof, something that made her snicker softly.

She hadn’t known it was possible to feel fear at the prospect of being tickled, but her body was somehow attempting to flinch away from the sensation. And then, something wet touched against one of her front hooves.

Gross! He was licking one of her fucking hooves again… The tingling sent a strange sensation through her, one that made her vagina wink with excitement…

What the fuck. What the actual flying fuck? What was this monster doing to her hooves? What, under Celestia’s blessed sun, was happening?

And then the feathers were back at her front hooves. Her thoughts were scattered, desperately trying to pull her body away from the over stimulation of body parts that weren’t even attached to her body any more.
She had no idea who would build what felt like a miniture paintbrush roller with nubs on it, or why it tickled, but she didn’t have the brainpower to even consider such things as her thoughts were currently under attack attack again, gasping, wheezing and laughing until her lungs were on fire.

Puffy had no idea when she was going to get to breathe normally again. Her hooves were still tingling from the first round of over-stimulation, and her lungs were still burning. But her body didn’t seem to have an off-switch for whatever the fuck caused a laugh reflex, and she was soon howling into the gag.

This time there was no way to hold back her tears, and they streamed down her cheeks as she bit down on the saliva soaked rag and did her best to keep her breathing under control.

It was hopeless. She was soon writhing around on her back again, eyes rolling back as tears streamed down her cheeks, screaming her laughter into her gag and thrashing around in a hopeless attempt to get it to stop. Nobody was coming to save her.

Hopelessness would have overtaken her body, but her mind was currently being torn apart, it wasn’t possible to think clearly with her instincts in complete control. It was only possible to focus on her own body freaking out, then trying to fix its freaking out by making her breathe rapidly and writhe like the pathetic creature that she was.

Tears soaked her cheeks, her eyes were unable to focus properly, and it didn’t even matter because she was in complete darkness. She didn’t even notice it happening, but due to the fact that her other senses were currently off, and her brain was currently being scrambled by the overstimulation, she lost track of time.

This wasn’t a good place to be in. She had no idea how long she spent in that dark box, the horrific over-stimulation of her hooves leaving her completely broken, but between each round of overstimulation, there was a round of soft kissing, rubbing and teasing.

To begin with, she found herself dreading the next round of tickling, then looking forward to the brief respites between tickles. She started off begging for mercy, then she gave into hoplessness, before looping around to pleading.

By the end of it, she was prepared to do anything to make it stop. Her tears of joy were replaced with tears of sorrow. Her eyes were so sore she was sure there was no more tears left in her entire body. The side of her face was soaked in tears and saliva, and when the tickling finally did stop, the only thing she could do was try to curl herself into a ball.

It felt like she had done a ten mile sprint. It felt like she had done thousands of ab-crunches non-stop for the past five days. Every single one of her muscles felt like jelly that had been left to melt in the sun. Her thoughts were scrambled and disjointed, and her cunt was absolutely soaked and burning, howling for proper stimulation as she begged for the opposite.

The only rest she had gotten was brief bouts where she had fallen unconscious, but they hadn’t lasted long, and they hadn’t left her feeling rested either. Her hooves were still tingling, but now the tingling felt like pleasurable television static that was trying to roll over the rest of her body.

Light. The dull cabin light was blinding to her poor eyes as Hatter lifted her from out of the box. This time she didn’t have any snarky remarks, she was on the edge of exhaustion as was far too spent to even think of angering him further.

She just wanted to rest. She’d do anything for some rest.

Hatter pulled her over to his lap, a grin on his face that could have only meant bad things, and as her eyes adjusted to the dull light of the train cabin, she was finally able to get her first look at what her hooves looked like now.

They were laid out in a neat pile on top of each other, something that she wasn’t even able to properly feel as the overstimulated television static drowned out every other sensation she could have hoped to feel.

Her frogs were red and swollen, to the point they no longer sat comfortably within her hoof. Even if she did get them reattached now, she would have to press that part of her hoof into the ground, and she had no idea how that would feel, but it was unlikely to be good.

Hatter pulled her over to him, forcing her to sit in his lap as she removed the gag from her maw, staring at the saliva soaked rag with a mixture of disgust and bemusement, before opening the window to the train and tossing it into the great beyond with his magic.

She barely even had the strength to talk, but she attempted to form words, pulling her fractured mind back together and attempting to form an insult suitable for the torment she had been put through.
“Fuck you. Fuck… You…” She muttered, even those simple words had expended her strength.

Every inch of her body was sore. Every inch of muscle was aching… It felt like she was made out of rubber, and it was painful…
“Now now, that’s no way to talk to me, is it?” He swatted his hoof down against her flank. Her entire body was sore and sensitive, causing the smack to feel like a searing agony. A cry ripped from her maw, and then Hatter pulled one of her hooves over and begin to kiss gently at it.

The sensation was strange, rolling through her body, causing her to blush bright crimson at the shame that this was causing her. She was so helpless, so weak, and her body… It tingled. It felt so good. Her snatch was dripping down the inside of her legs, the warm juices mixing with the cold juices that were already there.

The stallion smiled down at her, then forced another rag into her maw, cutting off her speech. Next the stallion decided to torment her further by lifting up her severed limbs and showing them off to her like they were some kind of grim trophies or collectables.

Her frogs were bright red, swollen, and all of her hooves had been painted with a red varnish. She hated what he had done to them, but with the strange tasting rag in her mouth she couldn’t even swear at him.

With this in mind, she was also helpless when the stallion begin to rub at her frogs, sending that same pleasurable sensation ripping through her body, causing her cheeks to flush a bright red as he bought each of her limbs up to his maw, gently pressing his lips against each of her frogs and gently kissing against them.

Each kiss felt so good. Each kiss felt like heaven, it made her body quiver softly, but this time he didn’t stop after just a short round of kisses. His tongue spilled from out of his mouth and lapped around her frogs. She was forced to feel every ounce of this strange sensation as he reached down, starting to massage and molest her frogs.

She wiggled and squirmed in his lap, and was promptly placed on the couch, panting heavily into her gag as her snatch begin to gush over this strange new stimulation.

Puffy had no idea what the fuck he had done to her hooves, but it felt good. It felt heavenly. Her snatch felt like it was on fire as he worked his tongue into the extra sensitive spot right in the middle of her frogs.

Fuck. He was going to make her cum. There was nothing she could do to stop it. She was going to cum from having her hooves played with. The literal torture she had suffered was going to make her cum.

He pulled one of her hooves into his mouth and began to basically deep throat it, his tongue dancing across its surface as he moved a hoof over to her snatch.

Her flank felt so sore, but the gentle rubbing against her clit felt… Amazing. As he rubbed one hoof against her clit, the other hoof rubbed at one of her frogs, and his magic rubbed firmly against each of her frogs all at once.

The strange tingling sensation of his magic against her sensitive frogs, the rubbing against her clit… It was all too much, and she had never felt shame like she did right in that moment as an incredibly powerful orgasm suddenly ripped through her body.

Her mind and body had been sent tumbling many times before, but it was an immense pleasure that tore her asunder. She convulsed roughly on the couch as her snatch clenched and convulsed, desperately trying to milk a cock or something that wasn’t actually there.

Afterwards, she was spent, she found the world tumbling away from her. The pleasure was… Buzzing through her, rolling over every ounce of her muscles…

It was so good to just… Slip away.

Hatter looked over the unconscious mare, a contented smile painted across her face, and as he pulled her into his lap, he felt a strange cont feeling starting to grow within his own chest.

He finally had a toy, something to call his own. He begin to drift off to the gentle rocking of the train, and all was good.