The Mistress & Her Stallion
He couldn't see, that much was certain.
He moved his eyes around in their sockets, moving from object to object, but there was still nothing but an all-encompasing blackness surrounding everything.
Was he blind?
He began to panic at this notion, realizing that it could be very possible. How, though? He had no recollection of doing anything that would lead to blindness, temporary or permanent. He focused hard, trying his damndest to keep calm by reliving moments happier than the one he was currently in.
His name was Stone Cold, which was rather unfitting for a stallion like himself. He lived out his life—as much as he could actually remember—in Ponyville, the bright and cheery nature of the small town opening his eyes to a whole world of wonder, something that greatly benefited him as a colt with no siblings. He would spend his days exploring, waking up before the sun and going to bed before the moon.
He tried to stand, but was met instantly met with resistance. He cranned his his head downwards, but all he saw was black. He squirmed, his legs rubbing together, almost as if he were hog-tied, yet still having the ability to stand. He wiggled more, trying desperately to still determine whether or not he was blind, but now also trying to escape his bonds.
He worked one leg out of the ropes, and prepared to do the same with his others, but he stumbled, causing himself to crash to the floor. The air was knocked out of him, searing pain radiating from his shoulder. He coughed and wheezed as he worked himself onto his haunches, using his front-leg to cover his shoulder. Tears of pain brought themselves to his eyes, and he blinked rapidly to try and clear them away.
Eventually, his breathing returned to normal, and the pain became somewhat bearable. He tried to stand himself up, but his shoulder wouldn't allow it. He chose instead to just remain down on his haunches, continuing to look on in vain, hiping that something, anything, would appear as more than a black space.
However, such a wish was not granted.
He raised the hoof of the freed leg up to his face very clumsily, then rubbed over his eye, suddenly feeling tired. He tried yawning, but found he couldn't open his mouth, the yawn instead escaping through his barely opened lips.
He raised the hoof back up, taking note that he did indeed have more rope around his snout.
Why was somepony doing this to him? What had he done?
Stone's thoughts were interrupted when he heard a thunderous noise come from somewhere around him. He flinched as it happened, still not being able to see, and frightened by what the noise could possibly lead to, if anything at all. Silence was all that followed.
He rolled his eyes, but what followed next sounded as if one-hundred microphones were each receiving feedback at the same time. He tried desperately to cover his ears, but it was no use.
Finally, as he opened his eyes as the sound stopped, he could see light. A smile found its way on to his face, but quickly left as the door shut quicker than it had opened. He hung his head in despair, but perked up once again when the soft 'clip-clop' of hooves could be heard, each step giving a small echo off the walls if the room. Stone had no idea who or what the sound belonged to, but he wanted it to arrive quickly, whether it be his death or salvation didn't matter.
That would not have been an easy thing to ask for, however. Due to the unknown size of the room, Stone had no idea where the creature was, each step seeming to be just as loud as the next.
Then, just as suddenly as the hoofsteps had started, they stop, cloaking the room in silence once more. Stone raises the freed leg, intending yo wipe his brow, but misses and jabs himself in the eye.
"Ow, fuck..."
"Did I say you could speak?"
Stone's eyes widened, his ears perked up and he freezes in place. Finally, something that makes sense.
Something that is sure to be utterly horrifying.
It was feminine, he was certain of that. Two more hoofsteps followed the unknown captor's question. He was going to find out who this was, find out why they were doing this, and keep completely calm about the whole thing, no matter how frightened he was on the outside.
"H-hello?," he called out, his words instantly betraying his thoughts.
"Did I stutter?," the mare answered with a question of her own.
Stone was taken aback by the suddenness of her response. He still wanted to find out who the mare was, but he was going to be less quick about the whole thing, choosing instead to just let things happen, remembering that he was the one that was in no position to be getting angry. He sat in silence, the only sounds now being his controlled breaths. She spoke moments later, shattering the almost-peaceful quiet.
"Good. You're probably wondering why you're here, aren't you?"
Stone nodded, but stopped shortly after, realizing that it was of no use, as she was sure to continue whether he responded or not. He waited, and sure enough, she did.
"Well, I'm not gonna tell you. I'll leave that one open-ended."
He felt crushed, knowing now that one of his only questions was never going to be answered. Maybe...
"What's your name?," he asked, instantly regretting the decision.
"Did I fucking tell you you could talk?!"
Stone tried to hide, but couldn't, due to both his arm and the ever-present blackness of the space around himself. A hoof brought itself down upon the back of his head, and he lurched forward, trying to avoid any further contact. A shriek filled his ears as the mare made contact with his head for a second and third time.
The beating stopped, and he heard several loud stomps, hopefully taking his captor away from his now-shaking body. He tried to regain his composure, but couldn't find the ability to.
"Let that be a fucking lesson, you sorry sack o' shit!"
A door, not the same as when she entered, slammed itself shut, and the room fell silent once more.
He didn't know what had just or happened, or even why, but he did know one thing:
If this was to be his life now, then he wished for nothing more than a quick, merciful death.