Affectionate Antipathy

With light playing over his face, rousing him from his slumber, Shaka yawned. The breeze coming through his window, along with the warming rays of sunshine, was a welcoming start to the day. As he sat up and stretched his arms over his head, a pleased smile crept across his snout.

He’d toyed with Sahira for the better part of a week, bringing her home and toying with her endlessly since he’d improved her, and he’d grown quite fond of having her around. When she wasn’t serving him in a fleshly sense, enthusiastically sucking him off or presenting herself like a needy bitch in heat, she was making herself useful in more conventional ways. Simply put, due in no small part to her desire to please him, his home was spotless.

Turning and peeking to one side, he frowned. He should have known she wasn’t in bed with him, considering he hadn’t awoken with her plastered against him, although that wasn’t all that shocking. His tutelage had encompassed more than his carnal needs, including how a proper mare is expected to make breakfast for her stallion and tend to the home when she wasn’t submitting herself for erotic affairs, so she was likely in the kitchen.

“Darling, I…” he trailed off as the words passed his lips.

His voice, normally resonant and sonorous, was a pale shadow of its former self. Coughing and clearing his throat, he shook his head. For an instant, it had almost sounded like a complete stranger had spoken. While he brushed off the preposterous notion that he was somepony other than himself, assuming he just needed a drink of water, something peculiar caught his eye.

Everything around him, the chamber he slept in virtually every night, appeared odd. While nothing discernable was out of place, with his possessions and furniture being exactly where they should be, his perspective seemed different - like things were larger than they should have been. Puzzled, he peered down at himself.

A thin sheet lay draped over him, concealing him from the waist down, yet he could instantaneously tell that something was amiss. His feet, usually reaching down to the very foot of his bed, only came to the center of the mattress - all the more troubling was the rest of him. As he cast his blanket aside, his brow knit.

He didn’t say a word, keeping his lips pursed while he inspected himself. The sight which greeted him was completely bizarre. Though he felt fine in every appreciable way, his figure had changed dramatically. His long, powerful limbs, all the muscle he’d amassed from years of hard work, and a substantial amount of his body mass were all gone.

With a soft grunt, he wrinkled his nose. One of two things was happening, and he wasn’t particularly concerned about either; if this wasn’t some figment of his imagination, being a dream or the remnants of one lingering in his waking mind, he wasn’t nearly as imposing as he should have been. Most stallions would have been wildly disturbed by such a happening, being dismayed for being inexplicably robbed of their strength and stature, but such a development, real or otherwise, was a mere inconvenience for him.

Turning his attention down to his loins, he guffawed. “At least you’re fine…”

In spite of his squeaky voice, frail frame, and diminished height, his stallionhood was completely unaltered - well, he was fairly certain it was unaltered. Wildly entertained and grinning like a fool, he reached down and clutched his semi-flaccid length. Irrespective of what was going on, being unable to close his hand around his shaft was so amusing that he couldn’t have cared less about the strange circumstances.

He twisted his torso, eager to get a better look at himself, and peered at a standing mirror sat against one wall. No sooner did he see his reflection than his suspicions were confirmed. Shaka, the hulking colossus that was feared and renowned, had become a scrawny, underdeveloped colt.

Immediately recognizing himself, but it wasn’t a version of himself he’d seen in ages. In his youth, back before he’d developed the ambitions that would lead him into adulthood, he’d been a sad little creature. Frail and a fraction of his normal, intimidating size, he openly laughed.

“Right…right…” he relented after composing himself.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, held it a moment, then slowly exhaled. Life had taught him many valuable lessons, with one of, if not the chief amongst them being to never get ahead of himself. His senses were intact, his mind was as clear as it had ever been, and there weren’t any meaningful problems he was aware of, barring his regressed age, though those presented an issue all their own.

Assuming he wasn’t dreaming, his first thought was that Sahira was at fault - then again, that didn’t make any sense whatsoever. The conniving mare was still under his thrall, when last he’d checked, and it was dubious at best to consider she wouldn’t restrain him in some way. He didn’t know her all that well, but he highly - highly doubted that his nemesis was the type to dole out light punishments.

“Trying to figure it out ~ eh?”

The familiar voice, coming from his doorway, wasn’t enough to make him open his eyes. “Trying, yes. Was there something you needed, Sahira?”

“Not at all,” she coolly replied. “I hope you don’t mind, but I helped myself to some tea.”

He shook his head and continued contemplating. “Not in the slightest. I’m guessing you found some way to liberate yourself last night?”

“This morning,” she corrected. “With nothing but time to spare within the confines of my own head, I was able to reverse engineer your hex, undo it, and slip from my shackles.”

Cracking an eye, he peeked over at her. “I presume you were only partially successful…”

“Oh no, not at all,” she tutted. Stepping in and setting her mug on his dresser, she groped her chest and tilted her head back. “I must confess that there’s a certain charm to having curves, although the lips had to go.”

“Regrettable,” he murmured, sneering at the markedly high pitch of his otherwise deep tone. “And I see you saw fit to borrow one of my t-shirts and…” he paused while squinting over at her groin. “Are those my boxers?”

She grinned and hooked a thumb over the waistband of her purloined underwear. “I did, yes. After wearing nothing but thongs and revealing attire for so long, I was - excuse me, am feeling a bit more modest.”

With a small snort, he clamped his eyes shut. “I for one would rather appreciate the labors of my work, but it’s your choice…”

From what he could see of her, her body being largely concealed by the comparatively oversized shirt and billowing boxers, she still had the body of a buxom bimbo. He genuinely wasn’t bothered by her making herself comfortable in his abode, nor was he troubled by her borrowing something of his to wear, yet her presence was unsettling. As things stood, she could likely overpower him physically; metaphysically, she had no advantage over him.

“Figured it out yet?” she giggled.

Scowling and knowing that pondering with her in the room would be a fool’s errand, he sighed and gave her his full attention. “If given enough time, I’m sure I could.”

“But you haven’t ~ have you?” she smugly pressed.

He reclined, laced his hands behind his head, and flexed his groin. “I have not, no, although I couldn’t help but notice that you were keen on keeping part of me in all its usual glory.”

While she slowly approached him, her eyes settled on his steadily rising stallionhood. “Most of its glory. You’re not packing quite as much as you used to, although it’s plenty for a mare of my tastes.”

“Well then, unless you’d like to start talking, I can think of another use for that muzzle of yours,” he mused.

Much to his shock, she didn’t object, give a pithy retort, or chide him for his glib request - no, she removed her shirt and flung it aside. “You’re right. This is your house, I’m your guest, and you’ve been gracious enough to accommodate me for several days, so willingly repaying you for your kindness is the least I can do. Should I put on a show or would you rather I choke myself on your monstrous colthood?”

Rolling his eyes, he shrugged. “A show would be a pleasant start. With this small heart of mine, it may take me a moment to become fully erect.”

“Completely understandable,” she breathed. Fully facing him, she bent over and slipped the underwear down her legs. “You’ll have to forgive my appearance. Seeing as how I’ll be looking after a colt, it felt appropriate to make myself a bit more maternal.”

Maternal - yes, she’d most certainly done that. To accompany her heaving breasts, foal-bearing hips, and doughy backside, one she showed off by turning around to display herself, she’d developed a not insignificant amount of pudge. While she wasn’t fat by any means, the added padding on her belly and thighs made it easy to mistake her for a middle aged mother.

“Excuse me for being so rude, but I do have a question ~ is there a purpose behind all this?” he inquired.

She reclined against his dresser, spread her legs, and stroked the engorged, hairless mound of flesh between her thighs. “Like I said, I wished to show you a bit of gratitude in a way that felt fitting for a stallion of your nature. Out of curiosity, did you ever fantasize about procuring a busty, older mare for yourself?”

“When I was younger, yes,” he hummed. “I may be mistaken, but I believe its a common dream of most colts.”

“Good,” she cooed. Strutting to the foot of the bed, she rested a knee on the mattress and fell forward onto all fours. “Now just relax and let mommy take care of you, sweetie.”

The view of her crawling up to him, dragging her massive udders over his feet and lower legs, was a welcome one. Mares had various uses, yet their most crucial one was serving stallions. While Sahira was vastly more capable than most, a near equal to himself in shamanistic arts, it pleased him that she’d seen the error of her ways and finally accepted her place in the grand scheme of things.

Sandwiching his shaft in the valley of her bosoms, she faltered. “A tit-job first?”

He dismissively waved a hand. “If it pleases you or if you’d like to chat. By chance, and at the risk of sullying the mood, was there a particular reason for your change of heart?”

“Oh there’s been no change of heart,” she tittered while stroking him with her breasts. “This is nothing more than an appetizer for what’s to come.”

There was no animosity in what she said or how she said it, although he got the nagging sense that she wasn’t being fully forthcoming. What was she scheming? Surely, after what he’d put her through, she wasn’t willing to capitulate ~ it couldn’t be that easy, right? Suppressing a thrilled shiver, he was given the first hint of what she’d done.

“Heightened sense of touch?” he thought aloud.

“Amongst other things,” she softly responded. Coaxing a bead of pre-cum from his stallionhood, she dipped her head and kissed the tip of his length. “Anything for my precious little colt.”

He fidgeted while staving off the temptation to buck his hips. “Could it be that you’re projecting a bit, and that you have some penchant for robbing foals of their innocence?”

Dragging her tongue over his cock-head, she smiled. “Don’t be mistaken, this isn’t a habit of mine - be that as it may, I do enjoy such indulgences from time to time…”

She’s spoken truthfully and openly with him. Her liberation from his thrall had only been enacted several hours prior, there was a fresh tea steaming within his kitchen, and undoing the physical elements of her metamorphosis would require access to ingredients she didn’t have on hand, although she had omitted certain information that would eventually make itself known. Peering past his abdomen and deliciously flat chest, she took him into her maw.

Every element of him was delicious. His scent, typically so strong as to be overpowering, was muted and almost floral, while the taste of his unwashed shaft, tainted with the flavor of her marehood from the night prior, had grown sweeter. He’d become a delicious dessert, a tender morsel to be consumed, and was going to savor him until the very last bite.

Forcing her head downward, after filling her lungs, she throated him. She’d only shrunk his endowment by the smallest of degrees, making him nominally easier to fellate while ensuring she’d get plenty of stimulation when, not if, he rutted her. While she bobbed her head and closed her eyes, sensing a small tremor in his hips, she tweaked her nipples.

Having regained control of herself, and been rid of the cock-addled bimbo that had been dictating her actions, she was able to revel in the novelty of her form. She was fully satisfied with herself in every way, loving her litheness and petite figure, but could see the appeal of being curvaceous. The heft of her breasts, the way various portions of her jiggled as she walked, and the ability to command stallion’s attention without trying were charming, even if they weren’t generally things she cared about.

Pulling back, she ran her tongue over her lips and reared back onto her knees. “I have to thank you, Shaka. Without your intervention, I wouldn’t have realized how fun this can be.”

“Think nothing of it, my dear,” he chuckled. “For what it’s worth, I’m positively delighted that you didn’t run off with your tail tucked between your legs.”

“Or knifed you in your sleep,” she added with a wink and a smile. “Humor me, Shaka, what sinful things would - will you do with me…”

He tilted his head back as he thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “As we are currently, there’s no end to what we could do - granted, I’m sure the public wouldn’t be too amused with an older mare taking advantage of a colt, and you’d be risking incarceration for breaking multiple laws, but the perils involved would add a certain je ne sais quoi of doing anything in a less private setting.”

Backing up slightly, she spread his legs and lowered her face to his nethers. “Perhaps we could go to a park and you could show some colts and fillies how a real stallion treats his mare.”

“That would be a phenomenal start,” he haughtily remarked. “And once I was finished with you, filling you with my seed, I could let them take turns popping their respective cherries.”

She shivered while she ran her hands up and down her body. “Incredible, though I’d hope you’d flush their inferior essence out of me before we finished.”

“But of course,” he cheerfully clucked. “Your womb is mine and mine alone, and I’ll not risk having some mere colt knocking you up.”

“My thanks,” she reverently uttered. “You truly are the first stud I’ve ever met who’s worthy to claim me.”

Sitting upright, he extended his arms and sank his fingers into her tits. “Indeed. Shall we warm up that hungry foal-factory of yours now or should we wait for our little educational session?”

She’d been hoping he’d ask. “If it’s all the same to you, let us practice patience. I’d like for the moment to be special, although we can tease one another to heighten the anticipation.” Rolling to the side, she seated herself beside him and patted her lap. “Come and nurse from mommy.”

“Mommy,” he quietly repeated. Shifting and laying across her thighs, he smiled up at her. “You’re not trying to give me a new fetish ~ are you?”

“Perish the thought,” she mirthfully countered while leaning forward and smothering him with a bosom. “If anything, I’m simply preparing myself for when I’m caring for our foals.”

Reaching over and wrapping her fingers around his pillar-like cock, she stroked him off as he began to suckle on her teat. She didn’t have offspring, she didn’t want offspring, and she’d damned if she was going to let a fatherless wretch like Shaka sire an offspring with her, yet the sheer wrongness which came from envisioning herself becoming amorous with her son was enough to make her marehood weep with excitement. Trembling and cradling his head to her bust, she tightened her grasp while pumping his shaft.

Within seconds, he was quietly groaning as he nursed on her - within no more than a scant few minutes, rivulets of pre-cum were dribbling down his length and wetting her hand. With his enhanced senses and adjusted biology, his hormonal balance and brain being that of a colt, she was confident that she could make him cum from a hand-job alone - as a matter of fact, were it not for a small gift she’d imparted upon him, it was entirely possible that he would have blown a load already. Shifting and swinging her legs to the side, she lowered him to the mattress and released him.

Shaka slid over, placed his feet to the floor, and stood at the bedside. “I know just the place where we could enjoy a small outing. It’s Saturday ~ correct?”

“It is,” she affirmed, rising up and looming over him. “Where might we be going, my special little colt?”

“There’s a large park with a playground in Fillydelphia what is likely brimming with foals at this hour,” he explained. “If we hurry we could ~ what are you doing?”

Lifting his arms and slipping a t-shirt onto him, she pecked his cheek. “Getting you ready. Inafaa,” she muttered. While she knelt down and presented a pair of boxers, the garments shrank to fit him. “If you would…”

He stepped into the undergarment and allowed her to pull them up his legs. “At least I know my progeny will be adequately pampered.”

“Would you not get jealous of me despoiling him?” she wryly quipped.

“Hardly,” he snickered. “Should he share our traits, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he started making advances toward you.”

Pushing herself up, having dressed him and refitted his clothing, she donned a shirt and the most conservative skirt she had available. There was no sense in wearing a bra or pair of panties, given what they’d be doing, so she let her breasts and nethers remain largely uncovered. As he took her by the hand and nodded up at her, she willed her power to life.

“Sambaza…”

The world around them exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors and a cacophony of sounds that defied comprehension. Shaka may have had means to teleport himself, yet she, unlike him, didn’t need some paltry bauble for such a thing. Blinking away the spots in her vision, she held Shaka steady.

He grimaced as he looked around himself. “This is unfortunate. Unless I’m mistaken about our whereabouts, the park is on the other side of town.”

“While that’s a bit of a bother, we’re in luck ~ see?” she noted.

It wasn’t by happenstance that they’d appeared by a bus stop. Their location, as well as the remainder of the day, had been planned with the utmost care, and she had plenty of surprises in store for him. Gently guiding Shaka over to a nearby bench, she motioned for him to sit.

Easing himself down, he hung and shook his head. “It’s a shame I’m not larger, because I’d be willing to let you sit on my lap.”

“Who said I can’t do that now?” she whispered. Stepping before him and presenting her back, she gradually lowered herself then abruptly stopped. “Whip it out…”

With the disparity of their sizes, sheathing herself on him in a clandestine manner would be easy enough to pull off. As soon as he reclined and flicked open his shorts, his stallionhood sprang free and into view. She acted with haste, wasting no time with positioning herself, squatting down, and hilting him in her depths.

Reclining and draping his arms over the back of the bench, he playfully thrust into her. “Comfy?”

“Very,” she moaned.

She didn’t have to pretend to enjoy the feeling of fullness he afforded. Large enough to give her a good stretch, while being just small enough to be manageable, his dick was practically flawless - yeah, she’d actually grown to like how big and bestial his adult endowment was, but his marginally lessened size let her handle him with relative ease. Keeping her movements subtle, she braced herself and lazily worked his shaft.

Being naughty in a public setting, while fun, was going to be particularly dangerous. She easily passed for double or even triple his age, anypony who saw him would mistake him for a minor, and doing anything out in the open was illegal in and of itself. Had it not been for Shaka’s intervention at the mall, using his abilities to wipe the memories of all parties involved, both of them would have ended up being locked up - now, balls deep on a stallion who could pass for her son, she felt certain that any Royal Guards would throw the book at her.

Constricting him in her depths, she peeked back at him. “Fuck me…”

He kept his arms outstretched as he planted his feet and drove his hips upward. Their precarious circumstances simply didn’t let them go all out, but that was the point. Unless they wanted to deal with a massive series of headaches, they’d have to be sneaky and screwing in the most unobtrusive way possible.

She slapped his hand away when he went to tug down her top. “Not yet. If you’re - Mmmn - fast enough, we’ll have to take the bus while your seed is taking root inside me…”

Her comment, given largely in jest, apparently tickled his fancy in the most wondrous of ways. Hugging her from behind, he pressed himself to her back and railed her out with renewed vigor. With his stallionhood kissing her womb with each plunge, she glanced over and spotted a bus rolling in their direction.

Every second was going to count, and she was going to ride him until she had no choice but to stop. As she milked him for all her worth, the shirt brushed against her bosoms. Though the stimulation of fabric against her nipples was faint, barely enough to notice, it drove her closer to her limit.

“Don’t stop,” she rasped while she swung an arm back to caress his side.

His breakneck pace, his stifled grunts, and the feeling of him flaring were perfection made manifest. Purely from a tangible standpoint, there was no way she would have been able to climax from such a short-lived fling - fortunately for her, pleasure wasn’t something locked to the corporeal. Fixating on what her designs for him, she apathetically got up when the bus eased to a stop.

“Legelege,” she said peacefully over her shoulder.

With a sweat-streaked, Shaka looked from her to his rapidly softening length in consternation. “W…what did -”

“The bus is here, sweetie,” she chirped. “Are you ready to go to the park?”

She played her part so impeccably, acting like his mother or a close family member, that nopony on the bus batted an eye at her. With a welcoming smile on her face, and an outstretched hand, she beckoned to him. Having to obey her, lest he come across as some unruly, petulant foal, he wavered for only a moment before zipping up his pants and stepping to her side.

“I’ll find us somewhere to sit,” he groused as he boarded the bus.

As he cast himself into the first seat found, his mind raced wildly. He knew what had just happened, that he’d nearly climaxed at record speed, but he was totally bewildered as to why it had happened. His endurance, honed through decades of bedding all manner of creatures, was a mockery of its former self - more serious still was that he hadn’t been able to cum!

Swiftly checking around himself, ensuring he wasn’t being watched, he pulled at the front of his shorts and glared down at his package. Everything looked fine, his limp stallionhood was the same as it had been when he’d first roused from his slumber, there was no overt sign that anything was wrong with him. Just as Sahira joined him, seconds from asking her, he spotted something on his brimming coin purse.

He couldn’t see it clearly, and he had no interest in playing with his goods on a bus full of passengers, yet he’d spied what seemed to be part of crest or sigil on his balls. Zebrican magic was a far departure from what unicorns or alicorns wielded. His variety of sorcery relied heavily on something akin to conjuration and alteration, as opposed to Sahira’s who utilized abilities that leaned heavily on suggestion and alchemy - at least, he was relatively certain of how her powers worked.

“What’s that?” he hissed.

“That’s called a penis, dear!” she answered. “It’s what stallions like -”

Seizing her by the collar, he pulled her closer. “No, that mark. What spell did you just cast?”

“That was just to help you, namely a certain part of you, relax,” she coolly replied. “That mark has been there for hours, long before you opened your eyes this morning, and it was the first thing I did after I’d shattered the curse you placed on me.”

“What is it?” he raged.

Grinning from ear to ear, she ran her fingers through his mane. “You’ll have to find out, my special little colt.”

Enough was enough. He’d never shied away from making a spectacle of himself, though starting a fight would draw unnecessary attention and potentially result in him getting mercilessly thrashed by her - no, he’d have to resort to other means to beat her. Filling his lungs and dredging an exceptionally grizzly hex from his memory, one that would flay her alive, he froze.

With a look of concern on her face, she touched the back of her hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling unwell, dear?”

The blood in his veins went ice cold, his stomach twisted into a knot, and a wave of nausea over him. As with his indomitable physique, she’d taken or at the very least locked away his ability to use sorcery. Falling back into his seat, he stared blankly at the ceiling.

She gave him a peck on the cheek, sat back, and withdrew her arm. “That’s ok, sweetie, Mommy will make you feel better very, very soon…”

There’d been times in his life when he’d been helpless in one way or another, including the initial, impassioned exchange he’d had with Sahira, though never once to such a severe degree. She could kill him with a word - hells, she could have killed him dozens of times over that very morning, and he was completely at her mercy. He wanted to be angry, scared, and confused as to how he’d ended up in such a pitiable state, yet a cold numbness deprived him of his power to do or feel anything.

Turning to face him, she drew her hand along the imprint of his softened dick. “You didn’t think I would ever do anything to hurt you ~ did you?”

“Yes,” he flatly confessed while trying to ignore the pleasurable sensation of her sensual touch, “although I fear that whatever awaits me will make death look compassionate…”

She sat back while rubbing the imprint of his progressively hardening stallionhood. “So dramatic! If I did anything too severe, how could we keep playing our little game?”

Blowing air through his nostrils, he massaged his temples. She’d made a strong point, because of fucking course she had. Toys were only fun for as long as they lasted or until they were replaced, and he was willing to bet that she, in some small part, was thrilled with the challenge of breaking him.

The remainder of their ride was relatively tranquil, and they found themselves standing at the park after only a few minutes. While he trudged along beside her, his eyes swept over the sprawling greenery and the many ponies present. Families played or picnicked together, there were a few couples chatting and enjoying one another’s company, and a few individuals sunned themselves atop beach towels. The scene would have been a tranquil one, had a wolf not been in their midst.

Pulled off the path, he growled. “Must you?”

“Must I find us a secluded spot? Yes, I should think so,” she demurely responded. Bringing him to a tree surrounded by shrubbery, she let go of his hand, sank to all fours, and started clearing a patch of grass. “There’s nothing stopping you from trying to unwind a bit - honestly, you’re just so uptight.”

While he peered at her backside, a heady mixture of rage and lust welled up within him. There was nothing stopping him from doing any number of things, including rutting her into submission. She’d overly said she wasn’t going to murder him, he was still extraordinarily well-endowed, and it may be possible to turn the tables on her.

Silently loosening his shorts, he pantsed himself. “You may have forgotten something…”

“What’s - Mmmmmn!” she whimpered as he slid into her from behind.

“I’m still a stud, sow,” he rasped.

Filling her in a smooth thrust, he clung to her backside and began fucking her with everything he had. She was a mare, an inferior creature in every retard, and he was going to remind her of that. Clamping a hand over her snout, she muffled herself and collapsed onto her chest. If it was the last thing he ever did, he would prove that she was beneath him.

Sahira mewled into her palm as a tide of bliss washed over her. Had she known she would be mounted so forcefully, she would have spread herself open and gotten into a more comfortable position - regrettably, he hadn’t been kind enough to give her any warning. Getting and straightening one arm under herself, she lifted her torso.

“H…harder,” she sputtered. “Plow Mommy harder, baby!”

Rewarding her plea with a harsh smack on her tush, he snarled. “You’re so pathetic. A supposedly proud mare being utterly dominated by a colt! I’d say you should feel ashamed of yourself, but I wouldn’t want you to cum quicker than you -”

She interrupted him with an orgasmic squeal. There were many things she could fake, yet a deluge of nectar and the way her depths convulsed were not two of them. Her capitulation, taking only a few thrusts, would have been sad, were it not as gratifying as it was. Seizing and violently wrenching the dock of her tail, he stepped onto her calves and changed the angle of his plunges.

Fueled by raw determination, the burning need to subjugate her, and pure fury, he hammered into her with all the force he could muster. She’d stolen almost everything from him, yet through hubris or ignorance she’d let him keep his massive cock and the experience needed to transform it into a mighty weapon. While he watched her face twist with rapture, his smile met his eyes.

His victory over her was assured, and he had her to thank for it. Once he was finished with her, screwing her until she couldn’t stand, he’d trot off to inform the closest adult he could find that she’d taken advantage of him - after that, he’d find a way home and reverse engineer her hex. For as shrewd and formidable as she was, her actions would lead to one of two consequences - imprisonment or a life on the lam, and he’d live comfortably knowing that he’d bested her.

With his pride elevating his bliss, he flew into a frenzy. While his faculties were still those of an adult, his adolescent biology, including that of his brain, acted against him. As he rocketed to a climax, abandoning all technique, he lowered his head and bit down on her tail. The pain he delivered devastated her, compelling her to wail gleefully while she bathed his lower half in her orgasmic juices, was a testament to…

His thoughts derailed and panic shot through him. He’d been on the cusp of release for too long - far too long, although his end wouldn’t come. Seeing her affix him with a golden eye, he attempted to stop rutting her - attempted and failed spectacularly. There was a point where anypony, even somepony as experienced as himself, could no longer control themselves - for him, he’d passed far beyond it.

Fiercely bucking back against him, using her superior side, she sent him flying off of her. He landed with a dull stud, his vision filled with the sky overhead, and she was upon him faster than he could ever dare to react. Squatting over him, she pinned his arms to his sides as she savagely screwed herself on him.

“What’s wrong?” she jeered. “Does my little colt want some relief?”

That was it. It wasn’t that he hadn’t cum - it was that he couldn’t cum. The sigil on his balls, his unusually high endurance, the subtle hints she’d dropped - they all made sense in the most dreadful of ways. Torn between heaven and hell, he weakly brayed and squirmed against her. He’d had the arrogance to believe he knew what torment was, yet she’d opened his eyes to a new layer of agony.

His ecstasy reached such heights that they became excruciating, erasing the line between pleasure and pain. This wasn’t about winning or losing, it was about instruction. Their first bout had kicked off on somewhat equal ground, with both wanting to vanquish the other, and the second had set a precedent. She was devouring him, closing the icy, unyielding jaws of madness around him, and prayed he could survive it.

The foundations of his resolve quaked as his dignity gradually decayed and fell to ruin. A stallion shouldn’t cry for anything, not the least of which being some malignant whore who’d woven a depraved, inescapable web, and understanding that only made his pitiable lamentations all the more degrading. Feebly lifting his hips to meet her descents, only to have them slammed back to the earth, his fighting spirit was viciously snuffed out.

On and on she went, periodically changing her pace or her exact positioning, until tears streamed down his face. Release dangled above him, only barely out of his reach, and she was the key to his salvation. Sniveling and finding the courage to face her, for he had no other alternative, he gazed up at her cruel visage.

“Beg…”

“P…please!” he sobbed. “Please let me cum!”

Slowing to a halt, while keeping his length sheathed in her silken confines, she brought her muzzle to his ear. “Cum…”

Words couldn’t capture the absolute joy that flooded through him. She’d told him to cum, so he’d cum - it was as simple as that. His entire body spasmed, his mouth hung open in a noiseless scream, and his eyes crossed as he emptied his balls into her. The burden which had been lifted from him was astronomical - soul-crushing even, and it left him annihilated.

Sahira basked in the moment for what felt like an eternity. “I trust you haven’t expired prematurely…”

Seeing his chest rise and fall, yet getting no reaction when she waved a hand in front of his face, she giggled. He wouldn’t forget this anytime soon, and she couldn’t wait to see what he’d devise to use against her. Unseating herself from him, she stood and went to retrieve his shorts. Though she wasn’t fully accountable for their spirited competition, she was going to be the one who finished it - provided that he didn’t surrender. While she carefully and lovingly dressed him, she ruminated on what, if any, preparations she should make for her little plaything’s next visit…