Wicked Bliss

The bulb was on, no lampshade, hanging on a white cord and giving off that cheap, yellow light. The room was reasonably big and nondescript like a spare room that had been emptied of all its furniture and decoration. It didn’t have any windows, and it smelled musty like one of those old, old houses even though the walls looked relatively new, painted a tasteless cream colour. There was nothing in the room except a bed frame that had been leant against the wall opposite the door. Instead of a mattress what looked like the top of a foldable desk from a school or a community centre had been nailed to the slats. On it was Rainbow Dash, tied thrice across the body and with her hooves spread out and fixed to the four posts of the bed frame using thick cord. Because of the angle of the bed frame she was pretty much vertical. Directly below her a mop bucket was sellotaped at an angle to the base. She was blindfolded with a black scarf, and the ball gag from the attack on the filly was in her mouth. She hadn’t been physically harmed; there were no visible wounds or bruises. She looked as though she were asleep, splayed there without moving. But every now and then a sound from above like a bang or hoofsteps would prompt her to shift her head, tilting her chin in the direction of the noise. She’d peed herself. The stain was on her legs and tail and on the desk top where it had run down and into the bucket.

When the pony she’d fought entered the room, he was whistling. He propped open the door with a stopper and rattled in with what looked like a tea trolley, but instead of cups and saucers it had wrenches and knives and screwdrivers, matches and candles, a handsaw, a hacksaw, a drill, a chisel, a box of needles, a rolling pin, all stuff you’d expect a house-owner to have in a cupboard or a shed. He brought the trolley to rest on the left side of the room, picked up the stopper, and dropped it on the floor outside. Then he closed the door and turned the key. Muffled sounds came from Rainbow Dash, at which he stopped whistling. He stood there for about five minutes, just watching her, listening to her breathe, matching his breathing to hers as if trying to convince her there was nopony else in the room. Eventually he went up to her and rubbed her belly, which made her fur stand up, and she twitched and made muffled protests. He grinned at that and kept rubbing, making shushing sounds as though she were a cat that needed calming down. He released the ball gag and hung it up on one of the posts of the bed frame. She spat straight ahead, and it missed him and hit the floor, and he chuckled and jabbed her in the stomach.

‘Wakey, wakey,’ he said.

‘Let me go!’

He snorted and lifted his hoof to the blindfold but seemed to think better of it and let it drop, watching her take quick, nervous breaths through her mouth now that the gag had come off.

‘Let me go,’ she demanded.

‘No.’

‘Let me go!’

He touched her belly. ‘Get away from me!’ she growled. ‘Don’t touch me!’ Rainbow Dash was tensing and trying to writhe free, pulling at the cords, but nothing budged, and she snarled in frustration. The pony watched her give up with a wide smile on his face.

‘You’re stuck tight and going nowhere,’ he said. Rainbow Dash spat at him again, and this time a little caught him on the cheek. He slapped her across the face, and she yelped. ‘You’ll behave,’ he barked, ‘or I’ll hurt you.’

‘You’re sick!’ she hurled at him.

‘We’re going to play a game. In two days’ time I’m going to open the front door. If you want to leave, you leave, and you win. If you want to stay, you stay, and I win.’

Rainbow Dash spat again, but he had stepped out of shot, and he kicked her hard in the stomach, and she retched and spluttered. ‘C—coward,’ she gasped. ‘Relying on … ropes to keep me here …’ He didn’t look happy about that. He went over to the trolley and took a needle out of the box. He went up to her, and she was struggling again, but like before it was nothing doing. He went right up to her and slowly poked the needle through the blindfold, and she must have felt it because she yelped and pulled her head back fast, and it hit the desk top with a bang. The pony let go, leaving the needle half in.

‘Spit once more,’ he said, ‘and I’ll push it right into your eye.’

There was a long pause while he watched her again. She didn’t say anything, just breathed. You could hear she was trying to control herself, slow herself down, to get out of panic mode. ‘Do you accept?’ he asked.

She didn’t spit this time, just snarled, ‘Do I get much choice?’ He grinned at that and nodded appreciatively as though he liked how brave she was being.

‘By the end,’ he said, ‘you’ll want to stay.’

‘I somehow doubt that,’ she snapped back at him. He stepped toward her and carefully pulled the needle out of the blindfold, and Rainbow Dash’s head relaxed a bit.

‘If you want to go, you go, and you win.’

‘I want to go right now!’

He seemed to consider this. ‘OK,’ he said eventually. ‘Give me a moment.’

He went back to the door, opened it, dragged in the stopper, set it so that it held the door open again, and came back for the trolley. He left with it. Overhead the hoofsteps were back, and Rainbow Dash was tensing up yet again, trying to find a way loose while he was out of the room. About two or three minutes later he was back, and this time he was carrying a baseball bat. He repeated the business with the stopper, getting it out the room before locking the door. Then he stored the key in his belt and walked slowly over to Rainbow Dash.

‘I’ll let you loose,’ he said.

And then just like that he swung the bat. It caught her square in the stomach, and she had no way of preparing for it, and the breath was knocked clean out of her. He was smiling quietly as she went from shout to choke to heaving and gasping. He didn’t let her find her voice. He swung again even harder, and this blow caught her lower-right leg, and she gave a snivelling cry in the midst of her battle for air. He waited for her, but she didn’t speak, so he swung once more, catching her lower-left leg this time. Rainbow Dash wasn’t screaming or begging, but she’d got enough voice back to make little moans like stifled sobs as though she didn’t want to show him how badly he’d hurt her. Snot covered her nose and chin. Tears were staining her cheeks. He was grinning as though at a job well done, and then with his free hoof he pulled at the knots. They’d been tied in such a way that they could be released easily from the one side.

To her credit Rainbow Dash the moment she felt that two of her hooves had been freed started struggling again, pulling frantically. This got her a whack in the head with the bat. She yowled like a kicked cat, and it slowed her right down as she fumbled at the belts, which he was releasing at that moment anyway. She slid to the floor with a hiss and landed on top of the mop bucket, which detached and tipped, and she ended up lying in a puddle of her own piss. The pony was laughing to himself, little snickers, standing over her and leering. The blindfold had slipped off. Rainbow Dash blinked up at her attacker, getting used to the light, her eyes rigid-hard and determined. He cocked the bat. She scrambled to her hooves, and he swung with a grunt. She couldn’t dodge. She took the blow in the back with another involuntary yelp as the breath was driven from her body on the opposite side. The momentum took her back into the desk top, and she slumped again, still scrabbling to find her balance. The pony gave a great big whoop and kicked her savagely to throw her off balance even more, and he brought down the bat like an executioner. It cracked her head. She looked unconscious for a moment when her legs went limp, but then her hooves crawled up to her face. He spat at her. It hit her near the eye, and she twitched but said nothing, now moving so slowly as though the room were full of molasses. He sniggered and raised the bat again.