Night Shift

by Leapingriver

First published

The residents of the Canterlot Prison have reason to be terrified when the sun goes down. What terrors patrol the Canterlot Prisons late at night? And more importantly, what does he want?

The mares of the Canterlot Prisons live in fear each and every night. His company is the source of their pain and suffering. And he walks on the other side of their cells, searching for his next victim.

I extend my supreme gratitude to Exilo for helping to write this story.

Trigger warnings: Rape, sex slavery.

Pain

View Online

Locke trotted down the familiar corridor of the Canterlot prison, located just a little ways away from the capital city. Once again, he was working the night shift. He didn’t really mind, he prefered working evenings. After all, there were benefits to the night shift. In fact, the only thing that bothered him was he had been forced to take this shift, the shift no one wanted. If he had been offered the shift, or asked to take it, he would have been fine. Instead, his superior had simply told him he would work it, ordered it, and that was that. As the newest officer in the village, the “low stallion at the barn” as an earth pony would so quaintly say, he simply had to do what he was told. And if that meant watching the local prison, that was that. It annoyed him to no end.

As he strolled down the hallway, the baton he carried with his magic rapped against each cell door. He stopped at Cell 26. Smiling, he casually knocked against the door with his baton several times. A subtle grunt from within confirmed it was occupied.

Retrieving a ring of keys from his belt with his magic, and replacing his baton, Locke walked up to the large door. Bracing himself against it, he peeked his head through the barred window and peered inside. The prisoner was huddled in a corner, her little head peeking out from her arms, which were braced at her front. Their eyes met for only a moment before she retreated deeper into the corner. Her fear was amusing, and he contemplated having her tonight, but he grimaced as he recalled the night before. She had begged and pleaded him to stop, like any good mare should, but she had cried when he finished. There was nothing that he hated more than a mare crying, revealing the weak and cowardly simpletons they were. The fact that she was a mud pony certainly didn’t help matters. Even at a distance, he could smell her.

He pressed his muzzle against the bars and peered at her. The cell was lit with a dim light. It was night, after all. The ponies were supposed to be asleep. Despite the faint glow, he could see her eyes more clearly than he could last night. The mare inside had had her mane cut that afternoon along with a number of the other inmates. He growled in annoyance. No, he wouldn't have her tonight. And probably not for the next month or so as well; not until her mane grew back. With one last glare shot at the whimpering earth mare he continued down the hallway.

All the other inmates were awake and staring at him, terror stricken that he would choose them for the night’s game. They never knew when or who he'd pick on any given night. Even if spared his entrance into their cell, they would be forced to listen to the shrieks and cries of the other mares as they were taken, because he always chose one. It was just him and them, until Celestia's dawn brought the morning patrol.

Breathless minutes passed, the only noise in the entire prison the rhythmic thud of Locke’s hooves pounding the stone and the beat of many frightened hearts. The noise of a skeleton key fitting into a lock was like thunder, rumbling through the stone corridors. “No,” came a panicked voice, distinctly feminine.

“Oh yes,” came a deep, feral, monstrous grunt.

The older mares covered their ears and closed their eyes. Some hummed to themselves, desperate to drown out the screams and begs of their younger sister. The younger all listened in some desperate hope that they might help their sister through this, somehow alleviate just a smidgen of her burden.

“Sunny Day,” Locke said as he approached the large mare. “Such a beautiful name for such a horrid little pony.”

Her yellow coat, and her dark orange mane and tail stood out in the dark prison. This, and her golden eyes, which peeked through the long locks of her mane, helped Locke to see her in the dim, darkness of the cell. “Sunny Day,” he continued. “For what you did in Appleloosa, you’re never going to see the light of day again." He pulled her forcibly from the corner she was hiding in, "And no one is going to listen to your screams or begs for help.”

Throughout the prison, mares hid their head. The revolting grunts continued for what seemed like an eternity. Perhaps it was minutes, perhaps it was hours. None knew for sure. The hoof-steps resumed, and the soft weeping of a mare filled the corridor as she nursed her sore body.

The pain was intense, but the mare knew to count her blessings that he had only stayed for one round. She thanked Celestia as she cleaned her dirty tail and bloodied legs. Despite the prison setting, the cells were far from inadequate. They boasted a sink and toilet with warm water, even a warm, comfortable bed. Though the mare could not bear to look at that, as it still carried the stallion guard’s scent. Wetting a washcloth, she brought it down to her hooves and did her best to wipe away the stains. He could have hurt her more and for longer, if he had wanted. This time was probably just to remind her he was in charge. He spared no opportunity to remind them all who that was. Sunny thanked Luna for giving her the strength to bear the abuse, and prayed that she guard her the rest of the night.

Her prayers went unanswered.

She barely choked back a sob as she saw him unlocking her cell door not even an hour later. Her backside was still sore and her eyes were wet. The rules were well known however. When Locke entered a cell, the present mare was to climb onto the bed. But she remained in the corner, unmoving, unable or unwilling, it mattered little. He growled at her insubordinance, and lifted a hoof to smack her. Wincing, she quickly trotted to the bed and laid down, sparing her a crack across the jaw. She bit her lip as the stallion placed his hooves against her back and mounted her once again. He growled into her ear, telling her what a dirty bitch she was, how she was lucky he came back, but she knew better. He would've come back sooner or later for more, she has just hoped it would have been later. She stared blankly at the wall in front of her as he rammed himself inside.

He finished, and she felt warmth spill down her hind legs and into her tail. Her legs trembled as he dismounted, but she remained propped against the bed. She heard his hoof beat against the stone and thought that he had left. She turned to check, but slipped and fell to her knees. Sprawled out on the floor she looked up and saw him standing above her. She looked away, but her head was roughly jerked up. He smiled cruelly down at her before grabbing her forelock in his teeth and yanking her below him. He reared up and placed his hooves on the wall behind her. She knew what he wanted. He'd forced her to do this many times before.

She didn’t want to open her mouth, but if she didn’t he would hit her. Eyes screwed shut, she rolled out her tongue, and felt the warmth touch her taste buds. Despite the times she had done this before, just how revolting and vile he was still took her by surprise. Gagging, she turned her head away, aware he would hit her but unable to bear what was happening. She was willing to take any other punishment, but refused to do this. Grunting, he shoved himself closer. The mare felt the flesh slap against her cheek, and his teeth tugging at her tail to keep her under his control. Anything but this, she said to herself. By the moon, anything but this.

"Take it bitch," he growled. "Take it, or I'll make your world a living hell."

And it isn't now? she wondered. But she knew better than to speak and give him a way to enter her mouth.

“Take it, or I will find some filly here who will.”

The mare’s eyes opened at those words. If there was one thing that made this hellish prison tolerable, it was her sisters supporting her, caring for her, helping her. And, in turn, she did her best to support them. She felt her tail pulled harder, and her hind legs lift off the ground. She winced as she felt several strands of her tail yanked out of her dock. With a sob she turned and opened her mouth tentatively. The taste was no less vile, but she pressed on. She could not suppress the gag that rippled out of her throat, nor could she stop the cough. As she gasped for a breath of air, he only shoved himself deeper inside her. "Bite me and it will be the last thing you ever do, to say nothing of what I will do to your sisters."

Surrendering to him, she began to suckle. The moans above were like a dragon’s rumble. Her hind legs flopped down to the ground as he released her tail and threw his head back. Even the youngest, most defiant mares had to hide their head and cover their ears. They could not bear to listen.