Slavery in Equestria was still, even in the time of the Nobles, illegal. But it did not mean that they were unwilling to find ways around it. In the mines of Canterlot, that meant prisoners. Lots, and lots, and lots of prisoners. Imprisoned for a variety of crimes, ranging from simple theft to outright murder, thousands of ponies toiled day and night in the weak mago-lights of the shaft, pulling gems and ores out of the ground for the country that had all but abandoned them. Deaths were commonplace; ponies could find bad air zones with a single shovel full of dirt, killing dozens, or strike a vein of methane. It did not matter to the overseers. All they had to worry about was completing their quotas.
And it was in this darkness that the Wonderbolts, the former premier fliers and military experts of Equestria, toiled. Captain Spitfire was no fool. When the Noble Council had banished the Princesses and imprisoned the Elements and Cadance, she had not believed their tripe about treachery for one second. For three months, the Wonderbolts had worked hard, scouring the Noble houses for any way to bring back even one of their beloved rulers. Unfortunately, their efforts had been noticed. With a well-planned ambush in the center of Cloudsdale, one that left thirty pegasi dead and the entirety of the Wonderbolts captured, the Brothers Horn blunted their threat entirely. But with an outraged Pegasi Tribe threatening war, they dared not execute the Wonderbolts as was first planned. Instead, they were tried and imprisoned for high treason, condemned to toil for the good of Equestria for the rest of their natural born lives.
Wings bound to their backs with thick iron rings, the former fliers had been down in the darkness for the better part of seven years, slowly wasting away, kept away from their birthright. But the Wonderbolts persevered, unwilling to give the Nobles the satisfaction of seeing their torment. Captain Spitfire kept her team organized, leading the other slaves better than any overseer as they pulled plenty of ore from the mines, and kept each other alive. The middle-aged mare was wizened and battered from her efforts, fur and mane scorched from methane fires, hooves nearly shattered from the back-breaking work day in and day out. And unknown to her teammates, Spitfire didn't know how much longer she could take. A sharp stone to her wrists was looking more and more enticing every day...
When the battle above began to go south, the explosions and screams had echoed down even into the deep mines. Overseers, many of them just civilians paid a wage, panicked en masse, fleeing into one of the elevators and up to, supposed, safety. Spitfire scowled as she watched the cowardly stallions race past... and blinked, as a ring of keys was flung down in front of her. She could catch sight of a nodding, cringing white-pelted servant as he was tugged past...
"Guys, get up!" Spitfire hissed, grabbing the keys in her teeth and turning to unlock the shackles that kept her bound to the wall-chain.
Fleetfoot, bleary-eyed, slowly got to her hooves. Recently, a blast of methane had nearly blinded the young Wonderbolt, leaving part of her muzzle twisted and scarred. Nearby, Soarin' rose to his haunches, eyes widening as he noticed Spitfire unlatching them.
"Holy shit... how'd you-"
"Don't mind that now," she muttered faintly, eying the last of the fleeing overseers, "We have to use that last elevator and get the buck out of here. We gotta get the other ponies freed, before-"
High above, the constantly whiring fan blades that pumped down life-giving oxygen to the deep miners slowed down.... seized... and went completely silent. A time-limit practically super-imposed itself on Spitfire's mind.
"Wonderbolts, move it!"
Racing from line to line with all the strength and speed they could still muster, the former soldiers and trick fliers unlocked each set of ponies from their work stations, directing them towards the elevator station. Many ponies stood stock still, gazing at the pegasi with stunned, glassy eyes. Spitfire had no time for that.
"GO!" she barked to them, "That's an order, damnit! You don't want to get left down here!"
That got their attention; yelping quietly, they darted towards the station, sometimes scrambling around their slower companions. Desperation was running high already in the caverns, and with a way to freedom open for them... More than a few ponies were trampled into the ground, helped up by the Wonderbolts herding the ex-slaves along. Spitfire couldn't blame them. The urge to race into the elevators and escape the hell they had been living in was incredibly strong. But she knew her duty. All the Wonderbolts did. Not a single one entered the elevators while the rest of the slaves were outside, even as the air became harder to struggle down with each second.
With a loud snap, every light in the mine went down, and several dozen ponies let out screams of despair. The power! Without the power, they would never escape! They would suffocate in the darkness, a horrible death for ponies who had already suffered horrors beyond the limits of most. Cries to the heavens, to the lost Princesses, even to the darkness below... all was heard in those first few, terrifying minutes.
SNAP!
"What was that!?"
SNAP!
SNAP!
With a shudder, the elevator jerked around for a moment... and slowly began to rise a few inches.
"Wonderbolts!" Spitfire's hoarse voice roared out in the shadows, strained, "PULL!"
With a lurch, the elevator, and the hopes of the slaves, rose. The Wonderbolts.
"PULL!"
"AGAIN! KEEP GOING!"
With each yell, the elevator rose higher, and not a pony said a word. Sobs rang out quietly here and there, but nopony could say a word. They were being saved, but at what terrible cost? What terrible sacrifice?
"AGAIN! ONE MORE TIME!"
Spitfire's lungs were on fire, and her strained body was giving out. They had tied the cables to the iron bands around their barrels, and each pull was utter agony. She was certain several of her ribs were shattered, and her left forehoof was definitely cracking. But she could not give up. Not yet. Fleetfoot was panting and sobbing weakly, several feet to her right, doing her best to walk in the winching circle that was raising the elevator higher. Spitfire closed her eyes, regretful tears slipping down her cheers for the younger mare. Fleetfoot was a good Wonderbolt, one of the best, and had her whole life ahead of her. She did not deserve this.
And in front of her, Soarin' Windsong, her second-in-command, was silently straining and pulling with the two mares. Soarin' was her best friend in the world. The old-souled idiot with a soft spot for pie and commanding mares. He should have been in a herd by now. Surrounded by adoring wives and squealing little foals, getting fat from pie and even more laugh-lines around his eyes. Not dying, unseen, in a fucking pit. She could only hope that the other members of her team, wherever they were, would live on, and pull the Wonderbolts through.
"Goddamnit," she muttered, trembling faintly before drawing herself up, "PULL!"
Roaring, all three Pegasi took one further step; far above, the elevator locked into place with an almighty thump, and the ragged cheers of the slaves echoed down to the three exhausted, spent Wonderbolts. With the last of her strength, Spitfire shakily pulled a sobbing, quivering Fleetfoot against a nearly comatose Soarin'.
"B-been a pleasure... f-flying beside you b-both..." she whispered, trying to get the breath to actually speak.
"I-I don't w-wanna d-die," Fleetfoot whispered faintly, burying her head against her commander's... no, her friend's, chest, "S-spitfire..."
"Just... c-close your eyes, F-fleet," Soarin' replied weakly, hugging them both tightly, "W-We... we will..."
His head, and Fleetfoot's seconds after, hit the hard ground with a soft thump, but Spitfire struggled on, just a moment more. She always had been the stubborn type. And perhaps, the dreamer. Because before the darkness completely overtook her, Captain Spitfire of the Wonderbolts sweared, SWEARED, she heard the flapping of wings, and a familiar, shouting voice. The craziest thing...
*****************************
Waking up HURT. And... surprised, actually. Spitfire let out a muffled moan, shuddering as consciousness slowly returned to her stiff, aching body. How she was still alive was a complete mystery to the mare... unless she was dead, which meant heaven SUCKED, considering she still hurt. Of course, it... could also be Tartarus. Spitfire had done a few... dark things, in her time in the military. Did she have to do penance for them? She... supposed that must be fair.
"Mmm, that's it, Soarin'... just let it all out," purred a very familiar voice, though the husky tone was... quite new.
Doing her best to open her eyes, Spitfire gave a small, muffled hiss at the piercing brightness of a nearby candle. Damnation, she had been far too used to the near pitch darkness of the mines, hadn't she? Keeping her eyes to a small squint made the light somewhat more bearable. And let her stare straight at Soarin's furry balls, not inches away from the tip of her muzzle. Meep.
Now, Soarin' was an attractive stallion. Spitfire had long since comes to terms with that, and her small attraction to him. Indeed, she had an attraction to all the members of her team, and all their little quirks. Rapidfire and his wide, innocent eyes; Surprise and her cute blush at any compliment. Fleetfoot's cockiness and smokey voice. And Soarin's gigantic cock and balls. The fleshy orbs were quivering heavily , streams of white, creamy cum running down them and pooling beneath his plot. And engulfing his cock was an absolutely luscious, firm plot; sky blue and perfectly rounded, it was pressing down just above Spitfire's wide eyes, somehow managing to handle all of Soarin's marehood-destroying cock with a widely stretched, clenching pussy.
I have to be dreaming. What the hell...
Glistening marecum trailed down those sky blue thighs, adding to the mess upon the bed-Bed! Spitfire shifted a little, wincing at aching muscles but also feeling the firm but soft resilience of a real mattress underneath her instead of a pile of stinking half rotten straw. Her eyes suddenly stinging from something other than the light as she swallowed hard to disperse the urge to sob out loud. Seemed impolite to disturb the pair next to her, even if she was about to have a sudden loss of her trademark poise for something as simple as her aching body not laying on the floor.
The deep male grunt beside her and a shudder through the mattress was greeted by a pleasured coo from Soarin's partner. Spitfire blinked back tears and her eyes widened at the sight of Soarin's hips bucking gently, his potato sack tightening visibly before the flow of fresh cream from the mare's overfilled pussy increased as she hissed in delight at the latest deposit. The heady aroma of sex intensified and Spitfire felt her cheeks beginning to burn. Slowly, still oddly loathe to disturb the rutting pair, she gritted her teeth and rolled onto her back, her wings flopping against the bed, muscles too weak to properly control them anymore as she shifted her gaze to the dimly lit ceiling.
"Good boy, Soarin'," that voice purred again, a giggle bubbling out, "Two more to go."
Oh goddess.
A soft flutter of movement to her right caught Spitfire's eye, and she quickly turned towards it, eyes widening despite the painful twinge in her neck. Fleetfoot, fur brushed and mane slicked back with wetness, had her chest pressed firmly to the bed, forehooves stretched out in front of her as she gritted her teeth around a thin bridle. Her oddly purple eyes were quite wide, twitching and rolling as the shadowed shape of a large, purple-furred mare hunched over her. A mare!? From her position beside them, Spitfire watched in stunned, blushing silence as the larger mare slowly, jerkily stuffed a massive cock inside her younger teammate, each slow movement tearing a quiet, ragged moan out of the pegasus. A set of reins lead from the bridle to the large mare's mouth, and she pulled Fleetfoot's head back with each gut-distending thrust in, stretching her neck back erotically.
With an eye-twitch to the hips of the mystery mare, Spitfire's entire world seemed to stop, locked on the familiar cutie mark in the dim guttering light of the single candle . A purple starburst. No... no, it... couldn't be. Twilight Sparkle had been banished. All of the Elements had been, Princess Cadance too... Twilight Sparkle could not be back, doing... this. But... With her discerning but tired eyes straining to focus in the faint illumination, Spitfire had to admit... it /sure/ looked like her. Maybe a little more wizened, strained even. But... how...
In Spitfire's stunned, slightly pheromone-drunk state, it was a somewhat beautiful sight. The larger mare, who Spitfire dimly noticed had a pair of wide, leathery wings stretched out behind her back, was incredibly slow and gentle with the smaller mare, murmuring softly. Wet noises filled the room as she moved almost hypnotically in and out, heavy balls slapping to an upturned plot at the slow but firm end of each loving thrust. Moving Fleetfoot's head about with gentle tugs and little leads. The pleasure-overloaded look on Fleet's face was easily enough to get Spitfire's own marehood drooling beneath her, and she shuddered, doing her best to keep from rubbing one out.
What is going on!?
Their twin orgasms came almost as a surprise to them both; the larger mare letting out a deep groan around the reins in her mouth, tugging Fleetfoot's head back firmly as she stuffed her mare-destroying length in deep, hips bucking gently with what had to be heavy, cum-laden spurts deep inside the younger mare. A fillyish squeal bubbled out of Fleetfoot as she quivered and shook on the pole lodged inside her, slim stomach swelling out after several heavy spurts. Spitfire had to admit, Fleetfoot's o-face was absolutely adorable, and she logged it away in her mental Attraction folder for the smaller mare. Finally, she was allowed to fall fully onto the bed, huffing and snorting loudly around her bit and bridle, hind legs and hips quivering as the larger mare slid herself free. She moved slowly, shakily, a soft purple glow surrounding her flaccid but amazingly ample stallionhood before it faded any along with the light. The mare winced as she dropped back to the bed. With a soft, kind smile, she leaned over to gently kiss Fleetfoot's forehead... and turned her purple, slitted gaze on the staring, stunned Spitfire.
And it was then that Captain Spitfire finally noticed the nature of her friend's sexual partner. Large, black horns swept back from the mare's forehead, gleaming slightly with latent magic, and the sight of them sent a thrill of panic through Spitfire's heart. Demon! They had all gone through the Supernatural Enemies course during training, and for Spitfire, it was not her first encounter with one of the evil, chaotic creatures. Whimpering faintly, Spitfire's strained and tensed, doing her absolute best to move, to fight... But it was not to be. Her body had, finally, reached its utter limit. While her mind was ready to do battle once again, her body had long since thrown in the towel. Spitfire's sharp pegasi teeth bared, terror singing through her system.
Twilight slid a little closer upon the bed , but said not a word as she reclined with a sigh a few feet away from the tense mare, merely smiling gently as she scanned her. Behind her, Fleetfoot slowly sat up, body quivering, but her newly purpled eyes looking at Twilight adoringly, without any trace of fear. Glancing to Spitfire, she smiled as well, though a little more shyly as she shook her head. Gulping thickly, Spitfire looked between them with trembling eyes, a few frustrated tears slipping out, before her head finally hit the mattress with an exhausted huff and sigh. If she was to be eaten, then so be it. At this point, it might even be a relief.
With a faint giggle, Twilight Sparkle wrapped Spitfire in a faint magical field, the purple light scooting the pegasus across the soft bed and into her waiting forehooves, cradling the mare close.
"There, that's not so bad, is it?" she whispered playfully, that oh-so familiar voice echoing in Spitfire's ears.
"I doubt you'll believe me this soon, but I'll say it anyway. We're not going to hurt you." She leaned in to nuzzle Spitfires ears gently, something nopony had done in a very long time, and made the older mare coo despite her fear, blushing.
"We know what you did... what you've suffered for the Equestria you wanted to serve." She whispered softly in her ear, nose brushing the plush appendage. "We're going to make Equestria someplace worthy of you again."
Fear was quickly replaced by sorrow, and more tears budded in Spitfire's eyes, which she sternly tried to hold back. It was... shockingly hard to hear validation, for everything she and her team had gone through. Their failed uprising had been her darkest day, and knowing it was her fault that her people suffered had eaten at Spitfire's soul for years. Twilight's warm bat-wings enclosed the two mares in a soft, personal embrace, giving the two of them a little more privacy.
"I'm so proud of you, my brave little pony," Twilight whispered gently, muzzle right in Spitfire's quivering ear, "It's going to be alright. I promise you... I'm going to give you the sky again."
And after a decade of pain and suffering, Spitfire's iron will at long last shattered, as Twilight gently extended Spitfire's long-bound, now freed, wings out, letting Spitfire feel the once numbed appendages again. Deep sobs and whimpers tore out of the older mare, and she buried her face against Twilight's fluffy chest, venting a deep, soul-crushing sorrow.
Twilight held her close, letting her cry herself out. Spitfire felt as weak as a kitten in her embrace, yet Twilight was just so warm, so gentle. Her hooves, wrapped lightly around the larger pony's chest and back, brushed a scabbed over slash of healing flesh, and she could feel Twilight tense a little.
Slowly the Wonderbolt captain managed to find her extra gravelly voice. "Wh-what h-happened?"
Twilight stroked her back soothingly, one hoof gently rubbing at Spitfire's flight muscles. "Recently? Freed Celestia and Luna from their prisons. It was... uncomfortable. As in the last... decade? Spent in Tartarus. Their Badlands lie wouldn't have kept us away so long."
Spitfire nodded slowly, reaching up gently. "S-so, that's why..." She gently brushed a fetlock against the coarse, heat rippled surface of one of Twi's horns.
"Mmmhm, demons now... well, demons and devils.. I'll leave the definitions until you can take a look at A Fel Compendium of Tartarus and Its Denizens. Sufficeth to say, we're a 'little' different."
"So, Celestia is b-back in charge?"
Twilight gave a wicked grin, sending another little thrill through Spitfire's heart. "Oh... oh no my little pony. That would be me. Well, me and Cadance... Cadance and myself, if being grammatically correct. We sort of... well... conquered? Equestria? Umm... Celestia and Luna aren't quite okay with the... erm... change of leadership yet. Sorta working on that though." She booped Spitfire's nose. "And no, not in the mad cackling, flames of hell sort of way. But the ponies of Equestria need something different now, and Cadance and I are going to give it to them."
Gulping thickly and staring up at the mare in surprise, Spitfire bit her lip slightly.
"S-so why are we.." Spitfire gestured to the soft sounds still coming from beyond the dome of Twilight's sheltering wing. Twilight gave the mare a soft kiss on the nose while grinning toothily.
"Ownership is a powerful force for devils. What we most care about is safest in our possession. I'll be plain, my dear Spitfire. You, and your Wonderbolts, are mine. In every way that matters, literally, figuratively, and philosophically in fact. And I take care of what is mine."
Her muzzle brushed along Spitfire's neck, finding the mark of a long healed lash. The pegasus gasped at the sudden touch of an incredibly hot tongue, tracing the scar, leaving a trail like fire in its wake as the taught puckered flesh began to relax. Spitfire's sharp gasp ending in a mute whimper. The mare was stunned both by the revelation of their... bondage? And the sudden inexplicable easing of the muscles in her neck. That whip wound had been with her for six years, impeding the easy twisting of her head. Now as she hesitantly shifted her chin to the side, there was no pulling, no strain.
Gaping up at Twilight in awe, she leaned up to nuzzle gently along her neck, a heated blush filling her body. Her nose brushed against the coarse flesh of a healing injury on Twilight's shoulder, a soft rasp of sensitive velvet to puckered regenerating flesh, drawing a slight tensing of the devil against her. Spitfire, knowing not what prompted her, parted her lips to lave the scarred flesh gently with her tongue. A tingling, almost electric sensation beneath her tongue, and a soft gasp left Twilight's lips against her shoulder.
"Ooooh, that feels wonderful, my darling Spitfire." The archdevil hissed quietly into her fur, lips brushing through the edge of her mane.
The former Captain of the Wonderbolts blushed at the admission, feeling a strange warmth in her belly as she repeated the soft stroke, beginning to almost automatically groom her mistress.... only for her motions to pause as she blinked... w-where had that thought come from? But the urge to tend to Twilight overcame the hesitance. The feeling of relief, of delight from the archdevil at her actions produced an urge she found... irresistable. Her eyes slid closed as she let her nose and her tongue trace the terrible wound marring her mistress' flesh, what power it must have taken to do such damage. The delicate shiver that graced Twilight's frame more than enough to keep her focused upon her ministrations.
Eyes half lidded, irises glowing faintly purple, Spitfire smiled gently. It would be so easy to simply submit to the archdevil. She saved them from the mines, s-she promised they would fly again. Spitfire pressed closer into Twilight's embrace, feeling those forelegs clutch tenderly around her. Her nose pressed into Twilight's chest, breathing deeply of her mistress' scent. Rubbing her face into the warm fur, spreading that scent against her forehead and cheek. Yes, she was Twilight's. Mind, body and soul. A rush of heat trailing down her spine, a blush of warmth in her cheeks, the sudden intensity of desire. Twilight cradled her close, eyes closed, the glimmer of tears budding in them as she reveled in the submission of such a treasure to her.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, her horns began to flicker uncertainly overhead, and each of the three Wonderbolts let out deep, shaky gasps as pleasant magic flowed through their sensitive wings, muscles long unused now kneaded and tenderly coaxed to renewed life in a binding, encompassing warmth. Twilight gently laid on her side, clutching the Captain to the chest as she caught her softly ragged breath. Spitfire, pausing in concern, could feel Twilight's smile as her mistress laid her head gently a top her's. The pegasus eagerly renewing her soft, loving ministrations as her wings tingled, giving odd little spasms of sensation. Taking advantage of the pleasurable healing, Rainbow Dash, as that was who the sky blue pegasus must be, carefully tugged a moaning, cum-bloated Fleetfoot over to Soarin', teeth gently gripping her mane. The smaller mare meekly rising on wobbly legs at the gentle insistence.
With gentle nudges and little nips, she backed the squirming, blushing mare back into an equally shy-looking Soarin's grip, his thick, wet cock poised just outside Fleetfoot's drooling pussy. Spitfire found her eyes locked on them in awe, numbly aware that Twilight was turning her around, drawing the fiery mare back to her chest even as a hot tongue began to gently lap and sharp teeth delicately nibble her fluffy ears. "Mmmm, Watch." Spitfire swallowing against a dry throat as she could do nothing but obey such a command from her mistress. The way Soarin's wide dick began to stretch open Fleetfoot's cum-stuffed snatch, the gooey prize from her mistress slowly oozing out around it... She squirmed softly in Twilight's arms, shuddering.
"Don't you worry, my little Spitfire... you're up next."