Rarity awakes to a searing heat in her loins and reaches her foreleg down past her chest and belly and across the cold bedrock, releasing an involuntary moan as her hoof massages the damp, sensitive area between her thighs.
Wait, that's not right. Her bed is laden with soft, feathery blankets that mold around her delicate body and ward off the night air and a certain rainbow-maned, voyeuristic pegasus pony, yet an uncomfortable shiver runs down her spine even as her arousal burns hot enough to toast bread.
In contemplating her unusual choice of analogy, she hears a low, unladylike growl and presumes that, on top of everything else, she's famished. Reluctantly, she ceases her ministrations, every fiber of her being crying out in protest and longing for the unspeakably wonderful touch of her now-sticky hoof. She whines in sympathy but determines to get her bearings first and cracks open her eyes. Neither a bite to eat, a cold shower, nor the bright morning sun is there to greet her. The faint light of a nearby lantern casts the shadows of rusted iron bars on the slate-gray cavern wall where she's curled up.
Her heart sinks, drowning in the flood of memories the hazy glimpse of her surroundings triggers. She went out alone the previous day to harvest gems from Rambling Rock Ridge, where she was apprehended by a trio of diamond dogs, the leader of which had the inspired idea to stick a grimy muzzle on her, effectively neutralizing her attempts to subjugate them with high-pitched whining. She touches her clean hoof to her face to confirm that the barbaric contraption is gone and laments not having told her friends where she went, for they'd surely have rescued her hours ago. She'll just have to find her own way out.
She tries to shift into a sitting position, but the frigid stone floor brushing against her highly sensitized nether regions sends a shock of pleasure up her spine, manifesting in a squeal she fails to suppress and eliciting another growl. Having gotten her bearings, she realizes the growl wasn't her own. It came from the other side of the room.
A heated blush splashing across her cheeks beneath her snow-white fur, she slowly rotates her head to face the diamond dog slumped against the wall outside her cell. As her wide cobalt eyes meet his solid leaf-green ones, the burning in her cheeks rivals the burning wetness matting the fur between her thighs, which flares brighter in response to her efforts to suppress it. Exposed, vulnerable, and fighting to keep her lust from seeping into her voice, she chides, "Is a little privacy too much to ask?"
The diamond dog, who she recognizes as the leader from his blood-red vest, charcoal coat, and citrine-adorned collar, rubs his eyes with his dexterous paw and grumbles, "I volunteered for guard duty because I have sensitive ears and the others keep me up with their snoring. Had I known you'd be just as bad, I would never have bothered."
"A thousand pardons for interrupting your beauty sleep," Rarity reproaches, "but I can't exactly help it."
"What are you—"
Rarity cringes, realizing she's said too much and sincerely hoping embarrassment is a viable cause of death as he sniffs the air and takes in a noseful of the powerful, unmistakable scent of the her arousal.
"You're in heat, aren't you?" the diamond dog asks dispassionately.
Embarrassment is evidently not a viable cause of death, so Rarity seeks refuge in propriety, "Could you be anymore blunt?"
"I could help," the diamond dog offers casually.
My Goddess, he actually just said that. There are a hundred things wrong with this picture, not least of which being the species barrier, his being a predator, albeit one who's more inclined to eat gems than ponies, and her being his cornered prey, but through her heatstroke-inducing blush at the mental image of him burying his head between her splayed thighs and dragging his wide, coarse tongue over her slick vulva to lap up her natural lubricant and send her into convulsions, the only one she manages to squeak out is, "I don't even know your name!"
"Ziggy," the diamond dog answers her implied question. "Ziggy Stardust."
Rarity arches her eyebrow, her compromising position momentarily forgotten. "That's an unusual name for a diamond dog, isn't it?"
"What if it is?" Ziggy asks, crossing his ape-like forearms defensively as if daring her to make something of it.
"My apologies, Ziggy," Rarity says with a smile, feeling firmer ground beneath her hooves. "I didn't realize you were so insecure about it."
"If you don't want my help, fine, but finish quickly. I value my sleep, and you're stealing it with each minute you spend yapping."
Rarity wants to revel in her victory in reducing Ziggy, the fearless diamond dog leader, to a sulking heap, but his words remind her that there's a more pressing matter at hoof. Her embarrassment returns, but she finds some respite in seeing him pointedly averting his eyes. Reluctantly, she slips her hoof back down to her nether regions and gasps when it makes contact with her vulva, which is practically dripping and far more sensitive than it was a moment ago.
The pure bliss her massaging sends coursing through her body allows her to ignore the unpleasant implications and the squishy noises her hoof makes as it grinds circles between her spread labia. She's barely been at it for a minute, and she's already panting, her tail tilted up and her quivering hind legs splayed out behind her. As her hoof migrates down to her clitoris, eliciting another gasp, she closes her eyes and tries to imagine an athletic stallion gently rolling her onto her back and laying over her chest so his belly rubs her smooth nipples as he takes her like the delicate flower she is.
The mental image she gets instead is a burly, charcoal-coated diamond dog gripping her thighs in his claws, spreading them as wide as they'll go, and thrusting his throbbing erection between her engorged vulva and into her vagina, stretching it to the point where pain mixes with her anticipation and precipitates mind-numbing pleasure. Catching herself, she wrenches her eyes open to find herself staring up at the ceiling, musters the willpower to pry her hoof away from her clitoris moments before orgasm, and cries out in dissatisfied frustration.
"Will you please shut up?" Ziggy groans. "I have a long day ahead of me, and so do you."
"You're the reason I can't think straight, you stupid, sexy diamond dog!" Rarity rebukes, blushing as her words betray her, rolling onto her side and tucking her legs and tail against her body in a futile attempt at modesty, and trying in vain to avert her eyes from the lean chest muscles stretching taut the skin beneath his open vest. As her eyes travel lower, they're drawn to the loop of a rusty skeleton key sticking out of one of his pockets.
"I could help," Ziggy reiterates as casually as before.
"How can you be so nonchalant about this?"
Ziggy shrugs, answering in a tone bordering on philosophical, "It's what you want, it'll help me sleep, and while I don't generally find ponies attractive, you're an exception."
"Do you really find me attractive?" Rarity asks, her heart fluttering and her voice softer than before for reasons her logical mind can't begin to fathom.
"You have a feminine air about you even without the intoxicating scent of your arousal, and I can tell from the lush purple curls of your mane and tail that you care for your appearance more than most. In contrast, most diamond dog females are as gruff and hairy as the males."
For some inexplicable reason that may be more than just heat muddling her thoughts, Rarity can think of nothing she'd like more than feeling his no-doubt-substantial girth filling her. She catches herself before another depraved fantasy worms its way into her mind's eye. She's had her share, some involving her friends, others involving Spike when he's more mature, but this one tops the list. If anypony finds out, she'll forever be known as the mare who gave a diamond dog a bone. On the other hoof, it'll just be a one-time thing, and nopony need ever know about the pony she apparently is in the dark. "Oh, all right," she says. "Let's just get this over with."
Ziggy makes no indication of having noticed the giddy undertone in her voice as he rises to his hind legs, fishes around in his vest pocket, takes out the key, blows the dust and lint off its teeth, slides it into the lock, turns it with the clunk of metal on metal, opens the cell door, and steps inside, not bothering to close it behind him.
Rarity gulps, staring up at his towering form, seeing the lustful glint in his eyes, and wondering what she's gotten herself into. Not knowing what else to do, she rolls onto her belly, shakily rises to her hooves, turns to him with a weak smile, and asks, "How shall we proceed, then?"
"Turn around," Ziggy says as if explaining something to a foal, drawing a horizontal circle in the air with his claw.
Rarity puts two and two together, and forgetting the power dynamic at play, says, "You are absolutely not going to mount me, so put the idea out of your head."
Ziggy rolls his eyes as if the figurative foal has just tried to convince him the sky is actually orange. "That's kind of how it works."
"I understand that may be how you canines do it, but I am not going to plant my face in the dirt and prop my haunches up in the air for you to ravage," Rarity says, momentarily getting a faraway look in her eyes as her fantasy from earlier interrupts her thoughts to try convincing her that his way might not be so bad. She shakes her head resolutely and continues, "If we're going to do this, we're going to do it the equine way. Now lay on your back."
"You find something to complain about even when about to have sex," Ziggy sighs but sits down and lays back against the stone floor, his foreskin retracting and his alien erection sticking straight up like a ship's mast. If his physical stature is intimidating, his, shall we say, sexual stature, is even more so. Being that his body dwarfs hers in every other aspect, that's only to be expected.
Her heart thundering in her ears, Rarity has second thoughts, but the expectant look in his eyes tells her there's no turning back now. She'll be taken one way or another. The only difference is whether it happens on her terms. She considers fleeing while he's down, but the fire in her loins reminds her she won't get far. She steps over him, lifts her tail, and slowly, gently lowers her hind quarters. Feeling his glans rub against her slippery vulva like a hot poker, push it apart, and slide between her labia to fill her deepest recesses, she releases a decidedly unladylike moan.
Ziggy stifles a yawn.
Indignant, she presses her hooves into his abdomen and lifts her hips, sighing blissfully as his erection slides back out to where her labia just barely hugs his glans and her eyes roll back in the ecstasy of long-awaited relief such that she sees neither the pained look on his face nor his paws reaching up to grasp her forelegs and pull them off to either side.
"Aah!" she yelps, her hind quarters thrusting back into his groin, her vagina aching from the sudden, too-deep penetration, and her upper body collapsing against his rock-hard chest. Her hooves finding purchase on the floor, she pulls herself forward to release the pressure on her cervix and asks in a voice matching the hurt in her abdomen, "What was that?"
"You had your hooves pressed into my gut," Ziggy explains. "Here, see how you like it." He clasps her shoulder and pushes her back into a sitting position with one paw, and as she braces her hind legs against the floor on either side of him to prevent him from sliding back into her, presses the other just below her stomach.
"Mmm," Rarity hums, reaching down with her forelegs to brush his enormous, padded paw through her fur and over her nipples. She closes her eyes to revel in the incredible sensation. "I like it a lot, actually. Keep doing that, and I just might forgive you."
Ziggy continues as she instructed for awhile before pulling his paw back to circle and rub her nipples with his individual claws. He smiles at the serene look on her face and the little gasps of pleasure she makes when he pinches. Continuing his ministrations with his padded palm, he lowers his other paw from her shoulder to grip around her abdomen just above her splayed thighs and slowly, gently begins sliding her up and down his erection, taking care not to penetrate her too deeply.
Rarity lays her body over his muscle-bound chest and hooks her forelegs under his arms, feeling him move his paw from her nipples to the other side of her abdomen, press her lower body against his, and accelerate his thrusting. His erection stretching and pounding her vagina in a steadily quickening rhythm combined with his rough, bristly fur rubbing against her nipples and exposed clitoris and her already built-up arousal swiftly drives her to orgasm.
"Oh, my Goddess!" she cries as her hind quarters convulse, her tail twitches, opaque fluid fills her vagina before oozing out around his erection, and wave after wave of unspeakable pleasure crashes over her, leaving her a quivering, soaking, panting heap of limp muscle wearing a satisfied grin. She pieces together enough of her disjointed thoughts to note that the unbearable heat has receded.
Ziggy ceases thrusting but stays firmly inside her despite her clenching vagina's attempts to push him out and comments, "That was quick. I hope you feel like going again, because I plan to finish too."
Having recovered mentally if not physically and decided that this has become a contest the only detail of which she's certain is that she doesn't plan to lose, she asks in a challenging tone between panting breaths, "You didn't think... I'd finish that quickly... did you? I could tell... you were going easy on me... Ziggy... Now shut up and give me all you've got."
Ziggy wastes no time in digging his claws into her haunches and assaulting her vagina with unrestrained vigor while barely maintaining enough coordination to avoid her cervix. His eyes roll back and his tongue flaps out of his jagged maw.
In the brief moments of dulled sensation while her arousal builds up anew, Rarity realizes how completely she's at his mercy. The claws scraping her skin are hard enough to mine through solid bedrock, the jaws hanging open just above her head are tough enough to crush gems, and the muscles rippling against her chest with each thrust are strong enough to bring her to a violent end with as little effort as he brought her to her first orgasm. She only has power over him because he wants her alive. If he changes his mind, she'll be powerless to stop him from flaying the flesh from her bones. She doubts it'll come to that, but even now, she couldn't tell him to stop if she wanted.
The idea clouds her mind with a mix of terror and excitement that blends with her growing arousal, heightening her senses exponentially. Every bristle of his fur rubbing against her soft coat, smooth nipples, and engorged clitoris, every scratch of his claws gripping her haunches, every rise and fall of their chests as they pant from pleasure and exertion, and every stretching thrust of his throbbing erection between her vulva and labia and into her delicate, sensitive vagina drive her to new heights until she can't hold it back anymore. A second, more powerful orgasm racks her body, shatters her train of thought, and forces squeals of ecstasy from her throat as she strains to breathe and clings to him like a piece of driftwood amidst a hurricane, "Ah! Aah! Aaah!"
Her vagina involuntarily clenching around his erection and utterly failing to impede its progress magnifies the sensations for both of them. Releasing a bloodcurdling howl that paralyzes her and makes her heart try to leap from her chest, Ziggy ejaculates, stuffing her like a cream puff.
The thought of warning her or pulling out apparently never crossed his mind, and while cross-species sterility means Rarity has nothing to worry about, she feels no less violated once the convulsions subside and the capacity for meaningful thought returns to her. At the same time, she's glad to be alive and unharmed, the numbness between her flanks and the claw marks just above her tail notwithstanding. Lest she have to explain how she acquired the latter, she'll have to find something with which to cover herself on her way home. A bath will also be in order, most likely in a stream somewhere. She cringes at the alternative—walking into town smelling like sex and dog—but knows she'll have larger problems if she doesn't seize her opportunity to escape while most of the pack is asleep.
She crawls up his chest to meet his eyes, sliding off his erection, which remains connected to her vagina by a strand of the thick white fluid that dribbles down her nether regions and pools on his belly. She begins to tell him how impressed she is in hopes of buttering him up enough that he'll let her go, but the words die in her throat when she realizes he's fallen soundly asleep. She rolls her eyes. Apparently some things remain the same no matter the species. She wobbles to her hooves, trots out of the cell, shuts the door behind her, and throws away the key. Consent be damned, that's what he gets for taking advantage of a mare in heat.
