Under the Rule of Yaks

“Ow, ow!” grunted Apple Bloom, being dragged by her mane. “Ah told ya, it wasn’t me!”

“Don’t care,” grunted her master in turn. She’d been told his name once, but having never actually used it, she couldn’t remember what it was. She was just to call him “Master,” and that was it. If she became separated from him, she was tagged, and any other yak would know where she belonged. After having their way with her, of course…

She’d been sold out. By whom, she didn’t know, but she could be sure it wasn’t Sweetie Belle or Scootaloo. Three other slaves shared that room, having come from out of town. They were outsiders. They just showed up one day, their names missing and replaced by their new owner. Bed Toy spent the most time alone with him, and Fat Arse may have said it to be able to steal their food, but if Apple Bloom had to guess who told their master that she’d been hiding rations, it was probably Ugly.

She was pulled into the colosseum’s lower levels, where slaves were made to go when it was time for them to perform. Apple Bloom had only been down here once, and that was to deliver paperwork. It was a small office with a desk. The room she was dragged into this time was a large one.

“Bind her,” commanded her master, to no one in particular.

It was Thunderlane who came over to tie her up. “What’d you do?” he whispered in her ear.

“Allegedly stole food,” she whispered back.

“Where is organiser?”

Thunderlane pointed to a small office, where the yak then went.

“”Allegedly” stole food?” asked Thunderlane. “How’d you end up in that mess?”

“Ah was sold out,” answered Apple Bloom. “One of the others musta’ said somethin’.”

“Blaming others for your mistake?”

“Only mistake Ah made was bein’ caught. That apple turnover was a gift to me an’ two others.”

“Ah, yes, your two friends. What were their names, again?”

“Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.”

“I know what their names used to be. I forgot what they are now.”

Apple Bloom snorted. “Deep Breath and Cocksocket.”

“Cocksocket; that’s the one. How is she?”

Apple Bloom didn’t answer.

“You know, Rainbow Butt was asking about her.”

“Ah have no idea who that is,” she lied.

“Fine. I’ll just tell her that her little orange friend choked on a turd and died.”

“Oh, go fuck yerself.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound like a lot of fun.”

Apple Bloom said nothing else. It was nice of him to be gentle with the rope, but now he was just trying to piss her off, and it was working.

“You stole a whole bag of them?!” he suddenly blurted out. Apple Bloom looked up, and noted that the event organiser, along with her master, were now within earshot, and they were looking right at her after Thunderlane’s outburst.

“You can suck a dick,” she muttered under her breath.

“Oh, but not today,” he snorted, still wearing his shocked face. “I just bought myself a day off. Because guess who’s going on in my place?”

“I have place for little thief today,” declared the organiser. “Slot just open up. Black Beans, you’re done for today.”

“The show must go on," nudged Thunderlane as he stood up and walked off. “Give my best to Deep Breath.”

Apple Bloom lowered her head. Thunderlane wasn’t evil. He’d very much been in defense of Ponyville when the yaks attacked. But he was still an arsehole. He was cunning, conniving, and worst of all, lazy. If he could find a way to not put forth the effort, that was his prime directive. He hadn’t done what he did to cause her more suffering, he’d done it to go home early.

He had done her two favours, though. The first was tying her up gently, though anypony could have done that. Even if somepony had tied her up tight, she’d understand. More than that, though, he’d moved her up. It was certainly true that she didn’t want to face her punishment, as she barely deserved it and definitely didn’t deserve the new, harsher punishment, but at least she was doing it today. She’d be back in her own bed tonight, rather than having to sleep here.

She was left tied up on the bench for a good half hour before being grabbed and dragged out to the field. Hundreds of yaks lined the stands, and even several ponies, most of which were bound to a yak and acting as chairs, tables, hoofstools… Whatever their owner or client desired.

“Cows and gentlebulls,” called the announcer as Apple Bloom was pulled out to the center of the arena. “I have just been informed of an alteration to the schedule. Those of you who came to see Black Beans wrestle a minotaur, that show has been postponed until tomorrow. If you go to the box office right away, you may exchange your pass for tomorrow’s showing. Alternatively, if you’d prefer to remain seated, we do have a replacement show for you.”

Apple Bloom shivered as she watched several yaks stand up and leave. A few gryphons, too, and even a zebra. She was a strong filly. A very strong filly. Unlike most, she wasn’t afraid of hard work, and even if she wasn’t the strongest, she was certainly a contender, given her age and gender. Still, despite her significantly greater-than-average strength, she could not take on a minotaur. Especially one that was meant to give Thunderlane a hard time.

“It seems that Stinky was accused of stealing food from her owner,” continued the announcer. “Normally, this would be a private issue, and would be solved in-house. However, today, her master has requested that she be publicly humiliated, that she may learn her place in the hierarchy that governs her life.”

Fat chance, thought Apple Bloom, doing everything she could to steel herself. That’s what Applejack would do, or so she thought. She’d face her punishment and come out the other side, unbroken and stronger. Applejack could do it, and Apple Bloom was more than willing to put on full display the robust durability of the Apple Family.

All of her confidence went out the window as she was pinned to a small platform in the middle of the arena. Her front legs, still bound, were left behind her back, but tightened down against the platform. Her back hooves were fitted into stirrups and bound to an A-frame.

The organiser that had walked her out here fitted a gag with a metal ring into her mouth. It was still wet from the last pony to wear it. “They’re here to hear you cry, not talk,” he snorted, tying her tail to the back of the gag to keep her facing forward and her hind end on full display.

“I have been told not to tell you what the punishment is, as it’s meant to be a surprise, but you’re all going to know before our guest, here. Please find your seats if you’re staying, as the fun is just about to begin!”

Apple Bloom took a deep breath as she felt something wet sponging against her flank. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it smelled awful. No matter. She would endure. She had to. For Applejack.

The crowd was mostly silent. She could pick out a few voices, all of whom she didn’t want to see her like this. There was a soft din amongst the crowd, but nothing big.

Then there was an uproar. Whistling, cheering, applause and laughter rang out through the crowd. Whatever was going to happen, it was going to happen soon, and it was going to hurt. Maybe not physically, but the crowd wouldn’t be laughing if her sense of self wasn’t at stake.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she let out a loud whine. She didn’t intend to, but with her mouth held open, she couldn’t help herself. She wondered what was going to happen. A whipping? Being drawn on? Having a bucket of excrement dumped on her and smeared around? Not knowing what had the crown so raucous was hell.

Then she felt it: a cold, wet, flat thing on her thigh. It was bristly and coarse, and it scratched her as it moved around. Not a hard scratch, like the claws of some wild beast. No, this was more like a scrub brush with hard bristles, or a low-grit sandpaper.

Air rushed across her skin, first toward the brush, then out, then back in again. What kind of brush had an air pump?

Then it pulled away with a few guttural grunts, followed by a high-pitched squealing. A squeal that was all too familiar to her. That was a hog behind her, and the bristles were the hairs on his chinny-chin-chin.

This was the moment where she knew what her punishment was to be. She was stuck in a breeding position, made to lift her tail, and there was a pig behind her. She was going to be his sow, whether she liked it or not.

The feet of a pig were not like the hooves of a pony. While Pony hooves were but a single toe, pigs had four toes. The two in the front curved inward, and when they pinched, it hurt. But behind those were two more, shorter, but equally sharp, toes. They were almost like claws, meant for digging through rocks and mud and roots. And Apple Bloom certainly felt that she was mud; at least, her name was mud.

Another pitiful cry escaped her lips as she felt the tip of his cock poke at the back of her thighs. She had to be brave, like Applejack would, but she wasn’t Applejack. She didn’t have the strength of character to keep steady as the pig pushed its way into her. While she had lost her virginity within the first week of being purchased, she knew she was too small for it. It hurt every time.

This was different, though. She had felt the touch of a yak, in hoof, tongue and cock, but the pig was a new shape entirely. He was able to penetrate deeper than her master, and he had a corkscrew design. He was screwing her, literally.

It was hard to focus on resisting. It was hard just to breathe. The hog riding her may not have been the heaviest, but he was still bigger than she was, and his pressing her diaphragm against the platform below her was limiting how much she could breathe. It was like somepony had wrapped a belt around her that was being pulled tight at every thrust.

The crowd cheered, laughed and whistled at her misfortune. Some even made oinking noises to berate her, or to cheer the pig on. And while she had cried out in agony, she could at least feel some small victory that no tears had run down her face. The worst of it was over, and she was able to weather the blow to her self-esteem.

Before long, the pig was done, and after cumming inside of her, left a plug. She could feel it; a swelling in her gut that wasn’t going away when she squeezed. It was sticky and stretchy, and would seal the pig semen inside of her until it dissolved and fell out or was absorbed into her body. She wasn’t sure which, but having grown up on a farm, she knew that sows were capable of birthing more than just a single litter. That plug would not last forever.

The pig, now dismounted, was likely being brought back in by its handler. At the very least, she wasn’t being crushed by his weight.

Except, it was brought around in front of her. At first, she was afraid that, as it jumped up on her shoulders, that she was going to have to lick it clean. However, this was proven to not be the case. Right as the tip of his penis was in her face, a torrent of yellow liquid shot out. First up her left nostril, then into her eye, before finally draining down onto her tongue.

Another roar from the crowd drew her attention as the pig was actually being returned to its pen. “Cows and gentlebulls, it looks like the show’s not over yet!” called the announcer. “While that swine certainly cast a fair few pearls before itself, our next guest is sure to teach Stinky the consequences of being ba-a-a-ad!”

With such a terrible pun, Apple Bloom could only assume that there was a ram en route to her. He wasn’t subtle about it in the slightest, and the crowds laughing at the joke just made it all the more obvious.

This felt a bit more familiar. Not because she’d spent any amount of time fucking sheep, but because she’d been working with yaks. Her master was very hairy, and his coat grew in quite curly, meaning that whenever he was on top of her, she felt like she was wearing fifteen wool sweaters. Rams were actually covered in wool, so right off the bat, it felt like seven or eight. In any case, she was going to be drenched in sweat by the end, and it wasn’t going to be due to any exertion on her part.

At least the hooves of the sheep were softer than the pig. He still had dual dewclaws, but they were smaller, and his toenails flatter and less damaged. They didn’t hurt nearly as much as the pig had.

The penetration seemed like it would be easy, too. As the ram lined himself up, it was only a thin little worm that was exploring her cavern. This was easy. Compared to the pig, being used by a ram seemed hardly a challenge; barely an inconvenience. She just had to sit there and wait.

Unfortunately, that mindset shattered shortly after it was formed. The tiny worm was nothing more than an extended urethra on the outer end. As soon as it wriggled deep enough, the main body extended out to meet her folds, and while it wasn’t bigger than her master, it was still bigger than the pig.

Apple Bloom had been allowed to start shearing sheep of their wool a few years back. She was made to move slowly, and she wasn’t allowed to shave any further than their hips. As Applejack had put it, “There’s a lotta them parts down there with all kinds a’ sensitive nubs, so we need ta be ever so careful.” Apple Bloom had accidentally nicked a shoulder wart once, and while she was forgiven for it, it had forced her to stop for the day, and she was pretty shaky for a few days after that. So she was plenty happy to let Applejack take better care of their giblets until she had more patience.

Of course, the only reason that such experience mattered now was because she was very aware that this ram was not being cared for all that well. For one thing, his coat was very scratchy, which meant either it was dirty, or he’d lost a lot of lanolin; the sebaceous oil that kept his wool from becoming tangled and knotted. Either he was being kept in a filthy place that wasn’t cleaned, or he wasn’t being properly fed. Knowing the yaks, Apple Bloom wouldn’t be surprised if both were true.

As he picked up the pace, she figured out that at least the first was true. Even if his skin wasn’t producing oil as it should, his coat was filled with gunk. Something had scratched her pretty sharply, and if she had to guess, it felt like she’d been stabbed by a twig. Not to mention the fact that, as he was starting the move forward on her, she could see the burrs that were stuck to him. She didn’t envy whoever was meant to shear him next.

In any case, he was a quick shot, spilling his seed into her, which didn’t go far, on account of the plug that the pig had left. Once he was done, he, too, pissed on her face, and she was mounted by a goat, and then a llama. Each one brought her down just a little bit more, but she wasn’t finished quite yet.

The last animal she would face for the night, she heard before the announcer could drop a hint. “As you can see, this last one’s prepared for things to turn “ruff!”” he chortled. “Perhaps our little filly here will think twice next time, instead of being “knotty!””

The dog certainly sounded big. It had a big voice when it barked. And that would make sense, as it would be a disastrous climax to the show if, after a llama had spat in her face, that a tiny little chihuahua would be the last thing to conquer. His claws were huge, too, even bigger than the pig’s claws as they dug into her hips. If she wasn’t bleeding by the end of this, she’d be amazed.

He missed the first time, humping between her thigh and the wooden support a few times before readjusting himself. Then her other thigh, if a bit higher up. He was coming closer, for sure.

She felt something cold and metal press between her shoulders, hard. Growling and clicking could be heard, and as his breath hit the nape of her neck, she realised that he was trying to bite her and move her into position. Thankfully, his handler had muzzled him, so she wasn’t going to be torn apart, but that was of little consolation at this point, as she was starting to feel that death would be a release from her torment.

On the third attempt, he found his mark, and he plunged in as deep as he could. Due to the many creatures she’d just experienced, Apple Bloom was ready for his entire length. Even his girth was acceptable. His claws were sharp and jagged and his pace was particularly discomforting, but the regularity with which she had received cocks this evening, she was just waiting for it to be over.

And it certainly seemed like it was going to be over soon. The dog was hammering into her at a fast pace and soon, he started pushing harder, the sure sign that he was finished.

Except, he didn’t…

Nothing was shooting out of his dick when he pressed it into her as far as it would go. Something was up. Was he neutered? Did he have nothing to spray?

That’s when it happened. With the next push, something slipped into her. Something big. And once it was in, it didn’t want to come back out. And that was especially bad, because now, the dog was cumming.

It started out feeling like her vagina was being torn apart. Part of her hoped that was all that would happen, but as the dig dismounted her and turned around, she could feel her insides being twisted in a way that her legs could not follow. Then he started tugging, and it felt like she was about to lose all of her innards as they were being yanked out of her through the plugged-up hole. And all the while, she could feel herself being filled; expanded as if somepony had shoved a balloon in her and was trying to inflate it.

She didn’t know that she was screaming until a hiccup sent a shockwave through her whole body. Her face was soaking wet and burning, her eyes inflamed as tears streamed down her cheeks. If the pig had been punishment through humiliation, this was punishment through pain.

And the worst part was, nopony was coming to save her. Nopony was rushing in to help her. She was on her own. The yaks in the stand were laughing, the announcer was speaking to them in a jovial tone, though she couldn’t make out the bad puns and lazy wordplay over her own screams.

She squeezed her eyes shut, the gag digging into her gums as she tried to clench her teeth together, too. She could see a visage of Applejack, urging her to stay strong; strong and stoic. If the yaks wanted to hear her cry, then the most she had to do to win was just not cry. The most she had to do was nothing.

That visage was ruined as an image of Thunderlane pushed her out of the way, flopping down with a tub of popcorn and laughing at her. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were there, too, but they just turned their heads away, too ashamed to help.

She couldn’t help herself. She didn’t want to think of her friends as just letting her be tortured like this, but it was no use. She thought what she thought, and as much as she would love to trust that they had her back, she just couldn’t. Not in this moment. And that sickened her more than anything.

Finally, it happened. She was in so much agony that she vomited. Everything she’d managed to hold down all day, her rations from last night and this morning and the small amount of apple fritter that she’d split with her friends; all of it was coming out now. The pressure this caused inside of her skull was excruciating.

For the first time, she wished that she was weaker. She wished that she was one of those flimsy little fillies that could go down without a fight. If she were, she could pass out from the pain. Just like Sweetie Belle.

That, or she could be stronger. If she were stronger, she could take what was happening to her and tough it out. That’s what Applejack would do. Applejack was so strong that she could break her bindings and start ripping her way through the stands, the hound still latched to her.

But she wasn’t. She was neither strong like Applejack, nor was she weak. She was in agony, and it wasn’t going to go away any time soon.

Once she accepted that, it was just a waiting game. Waiting until she broke, or was released. To be honest, part of her was sure that she’d already been broken, and waiting for the end was part of that.

It seemed that release would come sooner. She didn’t know how she felt about that as the dog finally pulled free. Every fibre of her being was screaming in a burst of pain, but she reasoned that it was just the shock of the sudden change in pressure. Her insides slowly untwisted to match her outsides, leaking profusely. She looked up at the sky. It was dusk. She hadn’t finished her chores, either, because she’d been here. That meant no dinner. Not that she could stomach anything right now, anyway.

Just as before, the dog was brought around to piss on her face before being escorted away, but this time, she was unlocked when it was over. “Hung kou,” she wheezed through the gag, lowering her hooves to the ground. Her legs barely worked, and her tail was still held aloft as she was marched out of the arena.

As she did, though, she spotted the dog, a Doberman, hunched over. He was taking a shit. As she followed, her knees buckled, sore and stiff as they were, and she flopped to the ground.

“Oh, ho!” snarled the announcer. “Looks like Stinky is trying to steal dinner again! Can’t think of anything other than your stomach, Stinky?”

She tried to stand up, but the intense pressure of a yak on her shoulder kept her down.

“What do we think, everyone? Should we let her eat it?”

There was one final uproar from the crowd. They were into it.

Or perhaps they weren’t. When she threw up, a few members of the crowd had shown some disgust. If she could convince herself that eating this dog shit was a kindness; that they were allowing her to eat where she would otherwise go hungry, then maybe she could…

She couldn’t finish that thought. It was unbelievable. The yaks were nothing but cruel, and this “gift” was anything but.

Nevertheless, her stomach growled, wanting to not be empty. After all she’d been through in the past hour, this seemed to be nothing more than the cherry on top.

She licked it up, unable to close her jaw. It was still hot and somewhat moist, so it mashed easily between the roof of her mouth and her tongue, and she even managed to swallow it. And then she was dragged over to another pile. This one was likely left by the pig, if she had to guess.

This one was cold, which made it that much more revolting. The dried, crusty flakes on the outside crunched and crackled, just barely rehydrated by her tears and the piss dripping from her face. Thankfully, that was it, and she was finally allowed to leave the arena.