It's not Rape Unless They Say "No"
It's not Rape Unless They Say "No"
The room is dark, the only light coming from several candles and the few rays of the moon that slip through the window's blinds. Its walls are adorned with family pictures. A unicorn with a mane of white and mint and a coat of green paces the room, occasionally stopping as if in thought. She’s wearing a black, flowing dress, a green ribbon tied loosely around her waist. Lyra looks into the mirror as she sips her drink, a simple mixture of rum and pineapple juice. It’s not often that she gets this opportunity, and it’s the first time she’s worked up the courage. She finishes off the glass of alcohol and sets it down shakily, its effects slight but apparent.
“Three years,” she says as she turns to the window. “Three years since Anon’s moved here. Three years since I’ve known him. Three years of chances.” She puts on a black, silken mask and, with a flash of her horn, her dress shifts and stretches to cover her, leaving room for only the mane and tail to flow out from beneath its folds. “Well tonight, I go for it. Tonight…” she stops, her ears perking as if listening for the slightest sound. Hearing nothing, she puts on a wide, toothy grin, and with excitement exclaims, “I’m going to get laid!”
Grabbing a length of rope and a gag on her way out, Lyra opens the window and slips out onto the roof into the cool night, cautiously shutting it behind her. She creeps across the roof, making as little noise as she heads to the edge. She glances around for any onlookers and, seeing none, hops into the bushes below. They rustle louder than she would like, but it’s nothing she can help. She moves along the side her home, trying her best to remain hidden as she heads towards the edge of the shrubbery. She reaches the street, as attentive as ever for any witnesses. Still hearing nothing beyond her own breathing and movement, she sprints across. The padding of her clothing muffles the clopping of her hooves on the packed dirt road, letting her make no sound beyond a slight thumping. Lyra dashes behind a box, checking once more to see if anyone caught her. Again in the clear, she moves on.
After about thirty minutes of going from cover to cover and having one or two close calls, she arrives at the home of Anonymous. Lyra walks around the house, looking for some sort of entrance. To her dismay, every window on the ground floor is locked, as are the front and back doors. Luckily though, she notices he’s left a second story window open. There’s no way to climb up to it directly, but Lyra notices the neighbors have an upper story porch with an external staircase leading up to it. She’ll have to jump, but she can probably make it. She trots up carefully, the wood creaking ever so slightly beneath her hooves. She takes a moment to prepare herself, then climbs the railing and leaps the gap between Anon and his neighbor’s house. She lands with a thud, loud enough to cause worry. The sound of someone moving grabs her attention, not coming from beneath the shingles she stands on, but rather the house she just jumped from.
“Is someone there?” a mare calls out.
She is sent into a panic and makes a run for the window, caring not for how loud she is so long as she gets hidden. Throwing herself through the open window, she crashes into a wall as she lands. It disorients her, but she thinks she’s managed to escape. She rests a short time, both catching her breath and listening for any sign of the mare having raised an alert.
Rising from her stumble she looks to see where she might be. Pictures adorn the walls, an oak dresser rest in the corner, and in the center of the room lays a bed, complete with a mound beneath the covers. To both her luck and fear, she realizes that she has landed in Anonymous’ room. Lyra props her front hooves on his bed and checks his eyes. His beautiful orbs of white and brown are still hidden beneath their lids, and she doubts he would be pretending to sleep if he heard. She grabs her rope, and with her magic begins to prepare a knot around each of his limbs, keeping it loose as to not wake him just yet. As she’s finishing the last knot, the covers begin to shift, and Anonymous begins to rise.
“Hmm, wha…?” he moans out in a sleepy daze. He begins to rise from his bed, the covers flowing off of him as he does. Shortly before he’s sitting upright, a green flash of light reflects off the walls in the room and the four knots tighten simultaneously. The shock of being suddenly secured to his bed quickly rids him of his foggy state, and he begins to yell, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the fuck? HEL—“is all he manages before Lyra shoves the gag in his mouth. Realizing he will recognize her if she sees his assailant, she pulls off a blue pillow’s case and places it over his head. He attempts to spit it out and begins to strain against his bindings. Anonymous keeps up the struggle for a while, kicking and tugging with desperation. He tries every option in his restricted set of possibilities to escape, keeping Lyra from getting a good view of his pants. She tries to hold him still with magic, lighting up his chest with a green glow as she pushes him into the mattress, but his strength easily overcomes her efforts. She goes for a different method, and twists one of his sheets into a makeshift rope. Looping it beneath his bed and tying it around his waist, she manages to keep his struggling to a minimum. He still tries, but Lyra giggles happily. She’ll finally get what she wants.
She starts by fiddling with his pants, trying to figure out how to remove the obstacle. She toys with the button at his waist, finding it difficult but simple to remove. Below that however is a brazen zipper, glinting as it moves with Anonymous’ slight squirms. She slowly unzips it, giving herself a slight show as the teeth separate. Though unable to fully remove the pants due to the rope bindings, she manages to get them down far, only to reveal another pair, much thinner and shorter, beneath.
In her frustration she rips them off with her magic, accidentally eliciting a slight yelp of pain from Anon. She’s surprised he hasn’t begun to struggle again, and feels that perhaps she was too rash in her action. Regardless, his humanhood is revealed from its cover. It appears rather odd to her, rather than being fully sheathed it’s mostly already out, though still flaccid and quite small. She can already feel a warm sensation growing in her groin, but knows she must get him erect first. Hopefully getting him erect will also increase its size. She begins by nuzzling it, rubbing it with her neck and muzzle, enjoying how her fur feels as it’s brushed and moved by her actions. It has a slight effect, but the results wear off before it gets anyplace. It’ll be a while before she gives any notion of giving up, and sucks it into her mouth with a slurp. The taste is odd, and perhaps a bit salty, but not unpleasant. She starts by nibbling various spots softly with the more blunt areas of her teeth, plays with the sheath, lapping it and twirling around it with her tongue, and tries to stick her tongue under the sheaths skin. This mouth play seems to work quickly and his member begins to get stiffer, soon supporting itself. The head of his rod begins to poke out from beneath his foreskin as the skin is pulled taut, and she continues, focusing her tongue more on it than the surrounding skin.
Lyra lets his length out of her mouth and begins licking it in long strides, enjoying his unique taste to its fullest. As she nears the tip she slows her ascent and begins to fiddle with it, almost as if she was playing in her attempt to get him to a full salute. It’s become much stiffer than a stallion’s cock, and despite his vastly larger stature his dick is about the same size as a pony’s. She eyes it hungrily, her prize presenting itself, and moves up his chest until her nethers are rubbing against his own. As her clit rubs against the side his cock, and letting out a moan she comes to realize just how worked up she’s become. Lyra begins to grind against him, bending down to kiss his stomach and chest between thrust and moans. She briefly wonders if giving him oral was enjoyable enough for her to distract from it, or if she became aroused as she was moving into position. She stops though as she accidentally inserts him with a misplaced grind, nearly screaming with delight as he enters.
The blood flow to her vagina was already making her sensitive enough to be content with humping, but when he penetrated her she felt amazing. His dick may not have evolved for sex with ponies, but every aspect about it drives her wild, from the sheer stiffness of it to the strange-shaped head rubbing and shifting against her inner walls. She bounces up and down on him, each time landing in his lap with a wet smack. He moans slightly, and increases in volume over time. She’s not entirely sure, but his moaning sounds as if it’s coming from his own enjoyment, rather than just from instinct. The sensations are driving her mad with lust. It’s as if she’s in as much control over her body as Anonymous is of his, driven by sheer pleasure and instinct just as he is held by rope. She soon tires of bouncing, unable to bring herself over the edge and also unable to bring him to his. Lyra stops for a moment, and begins to grind again, this time rubbing her swollen clit up against him while retaining his length inside. He’s squirming, but unlike his attempts to get free before it’s almost as if he’s trying to thrust. She’s getting much closer now, constantly rimming the edge, feeling herself more unable to keep herself from finishing more so with each thrust. Lyra feels a twitching in Anonymous’ cock, and suddenly feels as if she was flooded with a warm, viscous substance. It feels amazing, almost as if a gift from above, and finally, she cums.
She lies there for a while, just resting on top of him contently. It could be minutes to hours, but she doesn’t care. A light snoring snaps her out of it though, and she is reminded that she must leave. She grabs her clothing and cleans herself slightly with it, not trying to get the semen out of her, but at least what dripped out unnoticeable, and heads over to the window with it in tow. Lyra climbs out and loosens the bindings off Anonymous. Then, as the sun begins to peak over the horizon, she flees, equally from the risk of getting caught as from the shameful act she just committed.
The next day Lyra finds herself lying on a bench in the park, basking in the sun’s rays. She worries about being caught, wondering what would happen if such a thing were to happen. Letting out a sigh, she tries to push the thought to the back of her mind, knowing there’s nothing further she could do to keep it secret.
“Hey Lyra,” a voice calls out to her from somewhere behind.
She tenses up, recognizing the voice almost immediately. “Hello Anonymous…” she replies with fear.
“So, how was your night?” he says, causing Lyra to shake with fear. She knows that he knows but grips to the hope that he doesn’t realize it was her, however unlikely that may be.
Shakily, Lyra replies, “It was fine? Yeah, fine!” She curses herself silently for letting herself get so shaken up.
“That’s good to hear.” He says with an almost incriminating tone laced into his words. “I had ‘quite’ and interesting night. Someone broke into my house and we had a nice little fling.”
As he utters those last few syllables Lyra gives up. “Fine! Yes, It was me! I broke into your house and—“ He covers her mouth with one hand and shushes her.
“Lyra, calm down,” he replies, the accusatory tone leaving his voice. “I’m not mad in the least.”
She’s shocked, not understanding why he wouldn’t be seething with rage after what she did. “Y-you aren’t?”
“Not at all. Infact,” he pauses, and then continues in a more sultry tone, “how about we do it again, but this time with me being the one doing the binding and gagging?”
He walks off, leaving Lyra alone with a shocked look on her face. She manages to compose herself, but by that time he’s out of sight. She grins widely before screaming aloud with joy, “YES!”
