Talons and Lace

“Ser and I are leaving at eleven-thirty,” stated Mapper, just as Serenity floated over a folded note to Artur in her magical aura. Granting each other a nod of the head, a silent communication between them, the unicorn couple departed.

Artur unfolded the note and, what he read written perfectly in his native language made a predatory smile tug at the edges of his beak. There was a Vampony play on floor two, in room two zero one. There was a large glass window. And Mapper would be looking for them.

This was perfect!

In the lobby area, Black Lace’s head and her dark blue eyes were on a swivel, the young mare trying to look in all directions at once to take everything in. The wooden walls were a deep rich red, the carpeted floor a crimson. The lighting was a brighter red, the mini-chandeliers and torches hanging from the ceiling and walls casting eerie lighting over the room. “Oh wow!” she breathed, awed by the setting.

“Silence.” Ordered Artur, who had crumpled the note in his clawed hand and swallowed it. “You are a reflection of me.” Black Lace, who was so full of questions she felt her head was going to explode, instead clamped her open mouth closed, bent her forelegs and bowed her head low.

Just as curious as she, Artur turned and walked through the entrance lobby to investigate what it was like on this floor. The red décor from the lobby continued through here. His sharp eyes noted an open bar along the far side, and there was heavy bondage everywhere he looked.

A veteran of Trixie’s Place, he had been expecting to see such a sight. However, what he drank in made Trixie’s look like a foal scout party. It seemed that doms using their subs as seats was the norm. Most used their backs, some used their faces. There was a long line of urinal subs placed against another wall, some currently being used. The rest were being degraded and humiliated by their respective owners.

Mapper had told him this place was hardcore, and he wasn’t disappointed.

Having not been instructed to move, and unsure what the rules were, Black Lace thought it best to remain bowed where she was in the lobby. At least the towering minotaur who had been guarding the door was silent and unmoving as a statue. Should she follow, should she not? Indecision froze her hooves.

Realising he was alone, Artur turned and looked over his shoulder to see the white unicorn where he had left her. “Are you leaving already?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Looking up, Black Lace’s eyes were wide as she realised her mistake. Quickly, she scampered to catch him up. Naturally that meant she was exposed to the debauched scene in the huge main room. Not that she was a virgin, by any means, but she was unprepared to see bound submissives forced to drink pee from pet bowls (and that was the tamest thing she saw). A second look left and right made her blush around the bridle she was wearing, the small town mare more than a little shocked at the sights.

“Bring me a mug of Stable Hopper,” Artur held out twenty bits in his clawed hand when she was by his side. “You may use your magic.”

“Yes, Master Ironclaw,” Black Lace forced herself to be calm just so she could ignite her horn and channel her magic to hold the small stack of coins. Holding her head up high, and focusing solely on the bar across the room, she walked in a composed manner she didn’t really feel.

From the table he had chosen, Artur watched the pony like the sharp eyed creature he was. He could hear her heartbeat, thudding like a cannon in her chest. He could smell her, even from across the room. She was scared, and she was fighting through it. The fear he detected aroused the predator in him. The bravery she showed made the dominant in him proud of her.

On the way to the bar, Black Lace passed a pegasus stallion using an earth pony stallion as a stool. “Nice teats you have there, little mare,” the dominant pegasus openly leered at the unicorn.

As she passed the next table, Black Lace encountered an earth pony dressed in black stereotypical dominatrix gear sitting on a unicorn stallion’s face using a crop to bat his erection around. If you need to piss, stop on by, girlie,” the mare smirked. Black Lace saw the inhibitor ring the stallion wore and hurried on her way to the bar.

Wisely, Black Lace chose not to reply to the couples she passed. By the time she reached the bar, it was all she could do to keep her black tail down and her mind focused. Fear and unease prickled at the back of her neck, her fur raised.

The bartender, a rather swarthy looking earth pony stallion who wore a long scar on one side of his face and several gold teeth, saw the unicorn coming and instantly labelled her as ‘fresh meat’, in his head. “What?”

Black Lace recoiled from the stallion, for he smelled as unpleasant as he looked. The mixture of tobacco and alcohol didn’t do him any favours. “A mug of Stable Hopper for my Master, please.”

“Twenty bits.”

“Here you go, sir.” Black Lace marvelled at how smoothly she floated over the bits, given the tempest of emotions roiling inside her.

Not even bothering with her, the bartender poured the requested drink into a stone hewed flagon. “Mouth or magic?”

Black Lace glanced quickly at the receptacle as it filled. She noticed, to her slight disgust, that it wasn’t exactly the cleanest thing she had ever seen. The thought of having her mouth on that, or any part of it that the greasy looking bartender had touched, made her want to retch. Thankfully, she had an out. “I am allowed my magic, sir.” she lit her horn ready.

Almost as soon as the bartender pony set the mug on the bar, his attention turned to serving another guest. On way back, the same mare leered at her, “That should have some creature pissing. send them my way.” She ignored her, as she did the stallion, who asked her if she had milk in her teats. She was beet red in the face when she made it back to Artur. “Your drink, Master,” she set the mug down.

Artur had been watching her the whole time. He was, at the same time impressed with her composure and put on edge at the apparent sleaziness of the place. “Fold up your legs and lay belly down.” The time to test her had begun.

Quickly, Black Lace did as she is told. She laid belly down on the floor by the big strong griffon’s rear paws, her dark blue eyes cast down. This served two purposes. One, she didn’t trust the cleanliness of the floor and two, it kept her gaze away from the other patrons. “May your pony speak, Master?”

Getting up, Artur proceeded to take a seat on the unicorn’s back. That seemed to be the way things were done in this room. “You just did,” he replied with an irritation in his voice, “and I have not yet asked for your opinion. Silence and observe.”

The first thing Black Lace noted was that, for as big and muscled as he was, the griffon was surprisingly light. The second, she guessed she had carried as much weight in fabric on her back. However hot she found the situation, and it was very hot, the thing she needed to say was still on her mind.

Artur finished the beer rather quickly. In truth, it wasn’t to his taste at all, but he doubted they had bloodwine. He set the mug on the table and stood, having seen everything he wanted to from the first room. He turned to walk away, as he did so, he nudged his seat with his rear paw.

Shaken from her reverie on the floor, Black Lace got the hint and was up very quickly, following Artur at his side without question. The griffon headed up a set of wide, dark stairs until they were at the second floor, then he headed to room two zero one. Following him, the unicorn tried again. “Master, it is important your pony speak, before we go much further and... deeper.”

Turning to face her, Artur sighed. This was the second time she had spoken out of turn. He was beginning to rethink his assessment of her. Maybe she wasn’t the prize he had thought she was. “There is one word you can speak at any time, and it was none of those.”

“But…I don't want this to end. Not yet. My friends are expecting a call from me at midnight. That's all, Master.”

Artur stared at her in disbelief. His green eyes were wide with incredulity. He was facepalming a claw to his forehead before he knew it. “Mapper said you were new, but really!” he snorted through his nose, and made her flinch. “Your safe word doesn’t end the night, it ends the scene!” he exclaimed with a most frustrated sigh. How could his friend set him up with a submissive who was this green?

Black Lace felt incredibly stupid, and greatly out of her depth. “I... I apologise, Master, for my lack of understanding. Thank you for educating me…” she was babbling, and she hated herself for it, for her nerves and for her constant mistakes.

“Why are you still talking?” he cut across her, silencing her with just his voice. On the verge of crying, Black Lace clamped her mouth shut and held her head up high. She drew on her professionalism, and she forced herself to be calm. Artur heard her slowing heartbeat. He smelled her growing fear recede. Maybe he was too hasty. “Now, if you need something outside the scene I've set up, what do you say?”

At rigid attention, Black Lace answered, “Stitch, Master.” She was determined to make him proud of her. To make him want her.

In the hall, Artur sat. There were other ponies and creatures walking around, but he made sure he was blocking no door. “Now Lace,” he held her with his steely gaze and rumbling voice, “I will upgrade you to two brain cells. You may speak freely as we are outside the session.”

“Thank you, Master.” Black Lace couldn’t help but feel a little silly now, as she stood by his side. “I was afraid, in my hotel, earlier. I called my friends back home, and told them what I planned for tonight, they suggested the safety call.”

“When do they expect the call?”

“Midnight, Master.”

Artur altered his expression and gave the pony what was obviously the ‘idiot’ look. “Mapps is leaving at eleven thirty. I was leaving with her.”

“I wasn't aware you are planning to leave at eleven thirty, Master. That time will do instead.”

“You didn't need to know when I was leaving,” stated Artur, “You're going to lose that second brain cell. Now if it was closer to midnight, I could see what played out playing out. You, are a naughty sub.”

Black Lace wanted to protest. She wanted to scream that she wasn’t naughty, she was new. How was she naughty when she didn’t know what she was doing? Instead, she swallowed all of those roiling emotions and simply nodded. “I am,” she admitted, owning her errors, “but I want to be a good sub, I want to honour you, Master. I beg your forgiveness.”

Outwardly, Artur shrugged. Inwardly, he was surprised – and proud – that the pony didn’t start blubbing and making excuses. She was new, yes, but she was worthy of his time. “Back in session,” he said simply, giving her a steady look. Choosing not to speak, the unicorn instead remembered the lower floor and she folded her legs to lay on her belly so he could sit off the floor.

Satisfied, Artur stood and walked to the door he wanted. A simple gesture later and he had it open. What lay beyond was a large twenty foot square room lit dimly with a false moon and hanging lights to represent stars. On the right wall was painted a gothic castle and forest. On the left, the wall was thick glass. A watching crowd was assembled beyond. All that he noted, but what really drew his attention was the blood.

The smell of it was thick in the air. He could taste it on his tongue. He could feel it on his feathers even as he walked in. Black Lace was up as quickly as her dress allowed. So determined was she to absolutely do and be better. One step inside the room and she froze. She sniffed and looked around. Blood was everywhere. Splashes of it were all over.

She hoped it all wasn’t from one pony.

Her eyes became adjusted to the dim lighting. She saw two other griffons in the room. A jet black female wearing a long red cape had just that second mauled a male. She was over him, lapping up the blood she had just spilled. Three other ponies also wore capes, and they harried and toyed with scared frightened subs who tried to escape them.

Seeing the capes hanging on the wall next to the door, Artur put one around his shoulders and as he advanced upon his pony, he saw the fangs in the dominants mouths. The subs were all bleeding, from shallow and – some not so shallow – wounds. “Close the door behind you.”

This would test her nicely. Or break her to the point she needed lifelong therapy.

Without making a sound, Black Lace closed the door to the large room with a kick from a rear hoof. She shut out the light from the hall. Her world was twilight darkness. Her heart beat a tattoo on her chest. Advancing on her, Artur rubbed his clawed hands together. “Vell my little pony,” he affected the voice to throw her off. “You look sweet tonight.” He cupped her cheek and moved her further into the room, past several pony shaped coffins.

Staring into Artur’s deep green eyes, Black Lace’s first instinct was to laugh at the ridiculous accent, which she did. She snorted as she moved with the touch of the claw. “I am the sweetest treat, my lord.”

Artur smiled, the edges of his beak lifting. She thought this to be a game. She was so off guard he almost felt sorry for her. Almost. He pinched her left ear with his index talon. Slowly he increased the pressure until his talons pierced her skin. Held it there like that as the red trickled down her face.

She wanted to play with a griffon. He would give her what she wanted. All, of what she wanted. First, he had to tame her.

“Aaaaah!” Black Lace let out the low moan, the unicorn arching her neck to look up into the green eyes like she was all vampirically mesmerised. Like she’d seen on the TV. Aroused by the sheer eerie strangeness, her black tail went all the way up behind her, her scent of mare adding to the smell in the room.

Leaning in close, Artur at once licked her blood from her face and adjusted his grip so that his clawed hand closed around her neck. A heft, and he lifted her easily off the floor. When he laid her down, it was in one of the open coffins. Quick as a flash, he lifted it and pressed it up against the glass.

‘I'm in a coffin!’ the horrific realisation that she was in a very restricted space made Black Lace panic. She saw the crowd beyond the glass watching her freak out with a disinterested casualness that only served to increase her heart rate further. “Help me! Please Somepony help!” she screamed, beating on the reinforced glass. A few looked at her. None moved to help her. “Fuuuck...ooh fuck...HELP ME!”

Black Lace could see the ponies in the ground floor bar. She could see them pointing at her, talking about her. The ones on the opposite side of the glass placed bits on the tables and drank, obviously enjoying her fear. Beating on the glass lead to her struggling, her panic rising as she attempted to shove back against the glass.

Artur leant in close to the carved wood of the coffin. He could taste her fear, her mounting terror. It was like sampling a fine wine. “There is no escape for you.” He spoke just loudly enough for her to hear him. “I'm sure those below will admire your bones, given time. You’re going to rot here. No creature will miss you.”

“My lord, no!” tears began to flow down Black Lace’s face, smearing her pale blue makeup. The more she succumbed to her fear, the more she struggled. Panic made her a bit stronger, though she only managed to barely move the box a little, it was quickly pressed back against the glass.

Then, she remembered she was a unicorn. Lighting her horn, she aimed a telekinetic blast behind her, which moved the coffin backwards. Her magical power was enough to overcome the griffon’s raw strength, but she wasn’t given more than a second to celebrate her win. Artur allowed the coffin to fall, but he twisted it so that it landed face down. Then he sat on it.

“AAARGH!” what started as a ‘play’ suddenly became very real to Black Lace. She let out another scream that echoed in the now pitch black enclosed space. A series of futile bucks from her front and rear legs had the coffin barely moving. She was just tiring herself out.

As she screamed and fought, a thought entered her mind from the rational part of her brain that was still working. “I'm being played...” as she said it, she knew it. He was toying with her. Cultivating her fear like a farmer grew wheat. This time when she used her telekinesis on the coffin, the unicorn rolled to the side before he could trap her again. Panting hard, she reared up on her hooves, her eyes wide and with blood marring the side of her face.

“Got a feisty one there,” commented one of the fanged cape wearing mares just as Artur pounced on his prey from behind. His claws, complete with razor sharp talons, dug into her back, shredding through the dress she wore and penetrating her flesh underneath fur. His beak was at her neck, poised to strike.

“OOOOW!” Black Lace hollered, and her Equido martial arts training kicked in. Instinct made her roll forwards with the force of the pounce, and as she came out of the roll, she aimed a force push to get some separation between her and him. Blood gushed from the six taloned wounds at her shoulders as she ran in a little zig zag to throw him off. When she came to the wall, she turned to face him, her own blood seeping down over her forelegs.

Artur stalked forwards. Blood on his claws, he smeared it over his beak. The copper tang hit his nostrils. He let out a courage shattering screech, reared up and flexed his powerful arms. He expected her to cower. To cry. To beg for her life.

He did not expect her to attack him.

Caught with a wall at her back, Black Lace snorted through her nose, and she reached back with a forehoof. She ripped off the rest of her torn and shredded dress she had been wearing. Wrapping it in her magic, she sent it and her telekinetic power flying at the griffon as a distraction.

At the same time, the blooded mare galloped at the advancing Artur. When she was close, she reared up onto her hind legs and she spun on her right hind hoof, aiming a kick with her left hind right at his torso. The blow connected. The technique was flawless. She yelled a "HAAA!" to give her blow force. It had a good sting behind it, but all her Equido skill in the world didn’t matter squat when she hit the unmoveable slab of muscular griffon.

All she succeeded in doing was get in close and expose her whole left side to him, all the way up to her neck.

The force of the flying spin kick caught Artur by surprise. It staggered him backwards two paces, but that was all it did. Snarling, he seized her horn in his clawed hand, squeezing it with his talons to cancel her next spell. Then, he swept the leg she was standing on with his broad powerful wing. With a pained, “Guuuuh!” she landed on her back, new pain blossoming in her head from her horn that made her see stars.

Artur knew his prey was stunned and disoriented. He could see the adrenalin bought on by her fear had faded. She was vulnerable. She was his. With no wasted motion, he bowed and went for her exposed throat. He pierced her with his beak, just enough to bring out a drop of her blood. “Surrender to me and live. This place cares not about your death.”

His terms were simple indeed.

“Stitch!” Black Lace didn’t just say her safe word. She screamed it, and in griffonian, to make sure he didn’t miss it. Her dark blue eyes were staring wide, terror bubbling under the surface. “I surrender to you, Master Ironclaw, I surrender!”

Artur held her for a few more, long seconds. Long enough to draw out the moment as long as he could. His tongue lapped up the drop of blood and he could taste her vitality. He tasted her essence right then. At the point between life and death, she revealed who she was to him. He almost came on the spot.

There was a furious clapping of hooves and claws from those other players in the room, as well as cheers of “well played” and “masterful performance”. Neither Artur nor Black Lace heard them. Each only had eyes for the other.

“Pick up your rags and follow.” He ordered simply as he dropped her and walked out of the room without looking back.

“Master, y-yes Master…” the impact of the drop bought the unicorn back to her senses. She scrabbled to her hooves, wearing just her socks and bridle, and she scooped up her tattered dress. Certain she had pissed herself, she hurried out of the dimly lit room and into the brighter space beyond.

Out in the hall, Artur turned to her when she closed the door behind her. He marvelled at the art he had created on the canvas of her body. It was beautiful. Blood marred the white fur at her back. Tears smeared makeup down her face. Her pee completed the look. He wished he’d bought a camera. “Do you know healing magic?” he asked, putting a tone of care into his deep voice.

“O-Only for minor things, Master,” the unicorn forced her brain to work. She could heal, but she only knew minor cantrips, for things like pin pricks and paper cuts. Nothing that could help her now.

Artur said no more on the matter, and he walked off. He expected her to stay conscious long enough for her to follow him. Following, Black Lace stayed quiet. She concentrated her efforts on walking, staying upright, and not passing out from the agonising pain she experienced with every step she took.

Without looking back, he led her back to the lower level. Instead of going to the bar, he turned away and headed across the room to a door marked with a serpent eating its tail. Artur opened it and inside he was presented with a bright white room inhabited by a neon blue unicorn with an ochre green mane. “I do not wish for this one to bleed to death,” he stated, placing several bits on the table.

Artur watched her stagger into the medical room. She had lost so much blood, was so weakened, he was amazed she was still walking. He knew he had chosen well with this one. He watched the unicorn healer light her horn and cast a bright blue glow over his pony. Instantly, all the bleeding stopped and the wounds on her back and shoulders closed but left behind six nasty scars. “My thanks.” Healing completed, he walked out of the room and moves deeper into the building to another door with a water drop on it.

Inside, were four ponies in the shower room. He led her over to an empty corner where there was a shelf and a seat under a vacant shower head. “Take off your socks. Time to clean you up.”

Black Lace nodded her head in acquiescence. The bleeding may have stopped, but everything. Literally everything, hurt. From nose to tail, pain lit her up. And she was weak. So much so that she cried, sobbing as she struggled to non-magically remove her socks. Numbly, she took a moment to fold them and put them on the shelf first.

Demonstrating a degree of gentle care that belied his fierce look and sharp claws, Artur began the cleaning process. Carefully, he licked the still wet blood that coloured her scarred withers and shoulders. He was pleased she offered him no resistance. His coarse tongue went all the way down her back to her loins and even her croup. This he repeated several times until her coat was just an off pink rather than blood red.

Artur took his time with this. More than was strictly necessary. Each lick over her withers to her croup reinforced in her mind he would care for her. That he was there for her, and he would protect her. He started the water, making it barely lukewarm, and gently massaged in body shampoo to her fur. He took even longer with this, making sure her battered mind recognised his touch, welcomed his touch, and needed his touch.

He rinsed and reapplied the shampoo three more times until her coat was shining pure white. Then he started on her sweat matted mane. He coaxed conditioner into her black hair, smoothing it, caressing it. All the time he worked he muttered little nothings in her ear. “Master will guard you. Master will keep you safe. Master will care for you.” Over and over, he calmed her, making sure the aftercare soothed her psyche and her soul as much as the bathing soothed her body.

She was his. And he would keep her safe in every way a good dominant should. “You have done well, my precious pet.” He whispered in her pierced ear as he turned off the water, only when it ran clear.

“I - I did?” Black Lace looked at him wide eyed for a long moment, like she was seeing him for the first time. “Thank you, Master,” she offered him a smile that was as weak as she felt.

Artur spent another twenty minutes drying her with a towel so soft it defied physics, then he brushed her mane and coat until it glowed, and his arm ached. Only then, did he set aside the brush. “Socks back on, my pet. And don't leave the rags behind.” He was still in the session, but his rumbling voice was softer now.

Black Lace, having been calmed and groomed to within an inch of her life, simply nodded her head and pulled her socks back on, one after the other. She took a long few minutes to do it by hoof, but however long she took, she didn’t seem to be hurried in any way. When he finally left, she took up the remains of her dress and followed.

Calmly, Artur led his charge back to the entrance lobby, where the towering minotaur waited like a silent statue. “Gatekeeper.” He addressed to eight foot tall creature.

“Yes,” the immense male stared down, his fearsome visage unreadable.

“When Mistress Mapper leaves, tell her Master Ironclaw has left before her.”

“Done.”

Outside the disused theatre, now in the dead of night, Artur led the way along Bridleway, past a couple of theatres lit up with hundreds of neon bulbs, just one block to an all-night diner. Inside, he ordered two breakfast specials, with orange juice for Black Lace and a coffee for himself. The earth pony waitress took the order, nodded and left the griffon to claim an empty table. With a claw, he motioned for his pony to sit next to him.

Black Lace’s brain was still in a frazzled state of shock. Numbly she sat very carefully in the booth seat, so as not to aggravate her recently healed wounds. The skilled and experienced dominant in Artur recognised her silence for what it was. He knew the fragility she was feeling. “The session over. Well Lace, am I griffon enough for you?”

Black Lace was quiet with her thoughts for a few moments more, the mare processing what had happened to her. “Yes Master,” she replied eventually, when she felt confident enough to speak and form coherent sentences. “That…was...a lot. A lot of a lot.”

“You said earlier that lace is strong and durable. I will give you that.” Artur was only too happy to pay her the compliment. She had earned it. “That was a nice kick. A little higher and you might have knocked the wind out of me.”

“Ha...” the unicorn snorted out a laugh, “a bit of my brain is still processing the coffin. I... I’ve never felt fear like that before, not ever.”

“You did surprise me with the strength of your telekinetic magic,” the praise was genuine. “There is a type of lace. A term I heard somewhere before. Fil a something?”

“Filigree, Master.” Only with that, did she at last realise a truth. A hard, solid truth. The whole evening, she had given him a lot of information about herself. Her magical strength, her physical ability and the limits of the pain she could take.

A moment later and the breakfasts arrived on two large platters. There were fried eggs, rashers of hay bacon, hashbrowns, beans, vegetarian sausages and black puddings. Artur thanked the waitress and then glanced at his pony. “Eat up, my pet. I shall name you Filigree. I'm pleased you used your safe word, but I thought you at your limit. Still, it is a good sign.”

Artur smiled to himself as he began to eat. He watched her closely. His pony. His submissive mare. His Filigree. There would be jewellery for the ear he had pierced, a just reward, to signify he had tamed her to his will.

Black Lace was quiet the whole time she ate her meal. Her belly was empty, and it demanded feeding. However, she didn’t rush. She ate slow, giving her body the food, salt and water it required to function. Her brain was working the whole time, the food kickstarting her higher functions. Only when her plate was empty, did she look at him. “You named me.”

“I have,” Artur confirmed, pleased and impressed she had a knowledge of griffon law. Not everypony did, so when he encountered it, it was refreshing. “But I will not own you. Not in the way the law demands. Your time in Manehatten will be interesting. I want tickets to the event for the day you show your work.”

“What?” Black Lace looked up at the big griffon at her side. “But...you named me. That means something! I know it does. I have griffon customers at home. They talk.” She blinked as the memory came back to her. “Tame, name, claim. That...isn't a thing?”

Artur laughed. Not demeaning, or to be mean to her. A genuinely affectionate laugh. “Yes, you are right, about the law. Were we in Griffonstone, naming you would make you my property in all respects. I amend the law. You are mine while you are in Manehatten. When you go back to your home, you will still be mine, but you will be on free time. At least until you return to me. I will release you if you tell me your name is Black Lace.” He paused and held up a claw, “You can give that name to any creature but me. I know it matters to your business.”

“I like Filigree, Master.” The tamed pony smiled and slumped her tired head to his broad powerful chest. “My name is Filigree, because I chose to be. I am your pony because I want to be. You are my Master because I let you be.” She gave him an upwards look. “So um, want to come back to my hotel?”

“Closer than my place, most likely.” Artur was so proud of her. In just a couple of hours, she had gone from totally green, to understanding and accepting her role and his. Trust so willingly given was the headiest of aphrodisiacs to him. “How are you holding up, Filigree?”

“Everything hurts, Master,” admitted Filigree with a weary smile, “but I'm alive. And... I’m horny, after all that.” she giggled softly, a blush colouring her face as she admitted she wanted him. “Plus, I'd rather be comfortable in my room when I call them.”

“Pain lets you know you live, my pet.” He gently stroked her black mane as he spoke softly to her. “Where is your hotel?”

“In that case,” Filigree shrugged, “I'm very much alive. It's not far. I’m staying at The Moxy, one of the hotels between the big train station and Saddle Row.”

“I wonder if you can walk a mile,” Artur tapped his beak with a talon. Part of him wanted to make her walk just to see if she could. However, the bit of him that would be murdered painfully by Mapper and Serenity if they found out he abused a tamed sub in his care swiftly dissuaded him. “Subway it is.”

“You are a generous and kind Master.”

~ ~ ~

When Master and pet reached the hotel room, the clock had just ticked over to exactly eleven thirty. Filigree slumped exhausted on the single large bed that occupied the majority of the room, and Artur closed and locked the door.

By hoof, the tired unicorn retrieved her phone from her saddlebag and forced herself to focus on the list of contacts she scrolled through. “You want in on the call, Master?”

“No, Filigree, I will listen to your words and forgive them their words.” Instead, he elected to perch himself on a seating pad by the bed, out of sight of the camera on his pony’s phone.

“That’s fair,” Filigree giggled, thinking of her two best friends in all the world. “Broadside and Sandstorm can be a bit...intense. They're sisters,” as she magically dialled the selected number, she prepared herself to – temporarily, thank Celestia’s grace – step away from Filigree and become Black Lace, for her friends.

“It's her!” a painted slate grey and dark blue pegasus squealed, the camera on her end taken up by her whole face.

“Duh, who else would it be, dummy?” an amber coloured mare shoved the first out the way so she could be seen too. Both mares shared exactly the same brown eyes.

“Hey girls,” Black Lace hated the sound of uncertainty and indecision in her voice. When she had been Filigree, in the diner and on the subway car, there had been none of that. All she had to think about was being the best pet ever to her Master. A whine from her throat said she wanted that again.

“Lace! You okay, girl?” Broadside caught the whine, but she didn’t know its cause. “How did it go?”

“You aren't dead!” observed the ever astute Sandstorm. The brains of the dynamic duo.

“I’m not dead, Sandy. It went great,” as she spoke, Black Lace shot furtive glances to Artur, as if just getting a look from him would calm her like he had in the showers, “BS, I’m just...relaxing in my hotel room.”

Like she had for the past several years since school, Broadside chose to ignore her nickname. She had better things to sink her primaries into than hating ‘BS’. “Details! I want details!”

“So, want details!” added Sandstorm, who had taken the phone and placed it on a tripod so they could both be seen on the camera at the same time.

“Can't it wait?” Black Lace was aware she was sweating. “I'm really out of it…”

“No!” Broadside wore a determined expression.

“Not a chance. Spill, filly.” Sandstorm crossed her forelegs and adopted an identical expression to her sister.

Sweat poured down Black Lace’s brow. Her magic took care of it. “Fine.” She realised she had nowhere to manoeuvre. “I met a griffon Master. He's called Ironclaw. We went to a club, we...played a scene. He...tested me.”

While her sister was the ‘brains’, Broadside wasn’t completely stupid. She could tell her best friend was holding something back. The unicorn had never hidden anything from them, not ever. “How did he ‘test’ you?”

Black Lace wanted to cry. “Does it matter?”

“It so matters.” Stated Sandstorm, who after sharing a ‘sister knows all’ look with Broadside, wholeheartedly agreed with her.

“There was a Vampony room, in the club we went to,” admitted the struggling unicorn. “There was blood.”

“Blood?” Sandstorm’s eyebrow rose so high it practically crawled up and off her head and disappeared into her chocolate brown mane.

“My blood.”

“Are you?”

“BS, I'm fine,” however, Black Lace didn’t feel fine. She was on the spot, and she didn’t like it, regardless of how well meant the interrogation was. “I used my safe word. He respected it and me, I'm fine.”

Sandstorm, contrary to popular belief, had not fallen off last year’s hearths warming tree. “Show me.”

“Show me, too.”

“What?” dark blue eyes were wide as saucers, “You don't...”

“Show us now,” Sandstorm had had quite enough, “or we go to your ma and pa this minute, and they bring you home.”

“Ugh,” knowing she had no other choice in the matter, Black Lace held her phone in her dark blue aura while she turned her back to the sisters and magically lifted up the white fur on her withers and her shoulders.

“O. M. Goodness...” Sandstorm, far from a squeamish pony, had never been lost for words before. Looking at the six long scars that adorned her best friend’s body though, she wasn’t too sure.

“Sweet Celestia!” breathed Broadside, her brown eyes wide and staring, in the manner you’d look at a car wreck on the highway. “Are you sure you're okay? You look pretty fucked up.”

“Girls,” the word came out as a strangled whimper, “I'm fine, I promise.”

“Celestia’s fat cake loving ass you’re fine!” exploded Sandstorm, who had at last found her voice, “We can get your folks, three day train ride, you’ll be safe with us.”

“No!” Black Lace felt tears beginning at the corners of her eyes, “I don't want that, please!” Both sisters looked at each other, and because she’d known them both since she had been eighteen, she could read the intent on their faces. “I said I'm fine, girls, please listen!”

In his seating pad by the bed, Artur made a soft noise that came from the bottom of his throat, a noise that visibly calmed his ever distressing pony.

The noise was so soft, the mic on the camera phone didn’t pick it up. “Well, okay,” Sandstorm agreed reluctantly, “We'll back off, for now. Remember, call, or we get your folks in, like yesterday.”

“I don't like this, Sandy,” pleaded Black Lace, “I'll call, promise, just trust me, please.” With a nod and a winged salute from the sisters, the call ended, and Black Lace threw her head down, covering it with her forehooves.

Artur wasn’t having that. No pony of his was going to be allowed to be so miserable. Saying nothing, he snapped his taloned fingers to get her attention.

“Master?” the change was like flipping a light switch. By the time the unicorn’s head was raised and she was at attention on the bed, his Filigree was back. Her ears were forward, her eyes on him alone. Gone was her doubt and worry, replaced by the desire to be the best pet she could be for her Master.

“I so wanted to nip your ear while you were on the phone,” Artur smirked, his green eyes twinkling with mischievous light.

Filigree blushed, not from any embarrassment, rather pride that he had expressed a desire to mark her twice. “You've already pierced me once, Master.”

“And I will do so again, and I'm going to put a pretty earring in it. Now,” he raised up from the seating pad and stretched. It was almost time to bring this evening to a close. The right way. “Do you know how to massage?”

Filigree couldn’t stop her black tail wagging happily at the thought of wearing something her Master might chose for her. To wear it, them, and show everypony she belonged to him, it made her whole back end wag. “Yes Master, I can massage.”

Walking over, Artur laid his strong body out on the bed. At full stretch, his paws and leonine tail hung off the foot of the bed. He then spread his powerful grey wings out wide. “Preen too?”

Filigree’s face was bright scarlet, the submissive mare dumbfounded at the level of trust he was displaying to her by making himself vulnerable in such a manner. “Functional, not um...ya know, sexy preening.”

“Functional will do for now. Then I will know how much I must teach you.”

“Right away, Master!” eagerly, Filigree shifted her position and grunted on the bed as her aching wounds protested. She placed herself behind the griffon’s extended left wing. While she had done this once or twice for either of the two sisters, this was an altogether different prospect. She started by nosing through the feathers, detecting any out of alignment, any that were bent or old. One really shabby looking one she tugged out, and then she started to suck each primary feather long and slow.

“Good to know your family wouldn't let you avoid this,” Artur sighed as she worked. It wasn’t the most sensual or erotic, that was true, but her basic technique was flawless. Again, his Filigree impressed him.

“Thank you, Master,” after sorting the primaries like she had been shown, Filigree moved onto the secondary feathers. Like the ones before, they were broader and carried more mass than a pegasus feather. She assumed it was because the griffons relied on actual wing strength to fly than magic to do most of the work. Without hesitation, she cleared away some errant feather mites with her tongue. Is that good, Master?”

“That was sufficient, Filigree. You will be trained to my expectations. Now, the massage, my pet.”

Filigree preened and pushed her chest out, proud to have received such praise from her Master. For the massage, she began at Artur’s shoulders, circling her hooves around the muscles and channelling some of her telekinetic magic to aid her.

Then the best thing happened. She made her Master purr.

Artur’s growly rumbling purrs continued until Filigree had finished massaging his back. “Stand up, my pet.” He ordered her and, as if she was controlled by wires, the unicorn was up on her hooves in a flash. Artur then rolled over to his back underneath her. He was sporting an impressive erection the likes of which she had never seen before. “Ride me.”

“Oh!” Filigree’s dark blue eyes were very wide indeed at the sight before her. “Oh, spin my horseshoes...” shuffling her hooves, she got herself into position over Artur and squatted down. After everything she had experienced and endured that night, Filigree’s marehood was dripping wet. After two unsuccessful tries and readjustments, she finally got the right angle and she felt him slip inside her. “Oooh!” she went lower, inch by inch, feeling him fill her and stretch her.

A caw of pleasure left Artur’s beak as he felt himself stretch her. It wasn’t that he was moulding and reshaping her marehood to fit himself – much like he had with the rest of her – it was the simple fact that she allowed him to. She wanted him to. The consent she gave almost had him busting a nut then and there. Only a force of will stopped him. He lightly put his claws on her cutie marks. “Ride me, Filigree.”

“You're...hmmm...so b-big!” Filigree began the ride. She was slow and her motions were haphazard at first, her inexperience evident to them both. But, as was bound to happen, the unicorn quickly found her rhythm. She began to move faster and smoother, getting wetter all the time.

Lewd sounds of a sopping wet marehood being impaled by a ten inch griffon cock filled the hotel room. Under her, Artur didn't sink in the talons on his claws, but he did carry her up on the upstroke. It was all her and gravity that did the rest coming down.

Filigree didn’t make it past seven minutes before she was panting hard, her eyes rolling in her head and tongue hanging out. “M-Ma-Master…I-I don't think.... much longer!”

It was fortuitous she said that, because he was close as well. “Then cum!” he shouted the command at the same time he lifted her hindquarters up and used all his strength to slam her forcefully back down. He bottomed out inside her, the tip of his long thick shaft pulsating as he came deep inside her. Filigree was about to thank him, but as she opened her mouth, his tip battered her cervix, and she gave voice to a very loud scream. Her orgasm mixed with his, his load inflated her belly, hers squirted all over his crotch.

“You have done well, Filigree,” he heaped well deserved praise upon his tamed pony even as her head slumped forwards, the mare utterly spent. “Can you afford room service?”

“Yuh huh...service the room. I am many bits!” she giggled stupidly, her brain having vacated her head for the moment.

Artur couldn’t find it in him to reprimand her. She was so honest to Stormclaw cute, he had to laugh out loud. He carefully rolled to his side and took her with him so that she faced him on the bed. “Sleep now, my beautiful pet. I know a place to help you rebuild your blood.”

“Think I go sleepies now…” dark blue eyes were closed, and she was out cold in Luna’s realm in seconds.