A unicorn by the name of Blank Slate is using his magic to get ponies to do things they normally wouldn't. Little does he know that his actions are being watched from the shadows.
Blank Slate was a unicorn that knew what he wanted in life. Good food, fine drink, an occasional sex partner to fulfill his desires, and a roof over his head. He had the power to acquire all of these and more and used it liberally, always believing he was too smart to be discovered. But from the shadows ponies have been watching him with a critical eye for some time, gauging his abilities and preparing to approach him with an offer he simply can't refuse.
Warning! This fanfic contains themes of Rape, Humiliation, BDSM, Torture and Submission, Bisexuality/Homosexuality, as well as OC characters including one that is the writer's ponisona. Do not read if you don't like any of these
A muscular and bored earth pony stallion looked down at a male unicorn standing in front of him. With arms crossed, he examined the unicorn with extreme prejudice. He had seen his type before, stuffy rich bastard that made more bits in a day than he would make in a year, doing nothing more than sitting on his ass and telling other hard working ponies to work harder or faster without knowing what they did to begin with. That slicked back brown hair, that finely groomed white fur, and a suit that looked like it was made by the finest designers in Canterlot. All were signs of a typical privileged stallion who had no business being here.
Being the bouncer of one of the hottest nightclub in Seaddle, the earth stallion had seen this before. Rich, upper class ponies wanting to amuse themselves by going to something that the ‘commoners’ did for fun, usually just so they could ridicule the other customers for finding the loud music and laser lights amusing. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he had turned someone like this unicorn away at the door, and seeing them sneer as they walked away after an hour long wait in line was always a satisfying feeling. Unfortunately he couldn’t do that this time without hearing from his boss.
It wasn’t because the stallion was a potential source of money; most ponies like him hardly bought drinks or food there since they thought it was beneath their sophisticated palates and mostly just came to be belligerent. His boss even instructed him to refuse to let in the snobs if he felt that they would be more trouble than they were worth, but that rule came with exceptions. If they were accompanied by someone with them that had a look that would bring in more customers, and boy did he have with him a date that caught the eye of anyone that looked at her.
It was the first time he had seen a mare from the Crystal Empire, they still kept to their kingdom for the most part, or so he heard, and thus were incredibly rare to find outside of its borders. It was even more amazing to see that she wasn’t of the earth pony variety either, and was a crystal pegasus. Her body sparkled as the lights of the club’s sign shined on her, giving bright speckles of white over the pale yellow fur that could be seen outside of her blue fleece dress. Her lovely lavender hair was long, wavy, and incredibly attractive as it too shimmered as light refracted off it. The earth pony cursed his luck that he couldn’t have been her date instead, which made him think that any guys seeing her off the street would gladly pay admission to the club just to have a chance to take her home that night.
“Ok, you pass,” He said, begrudgingly watching as the pegasus pressed his arm between her breasts so she could plant a kiss on his cheek. Some guys got all the luck.
The white unicorn stallion smirked; he had assumed that this nightclub was the kind to pick and choose who to allow in based on appearance. He could have tried to blend in, messed up his mane, gotten some clothing more suitable for dancing, but why conform when you can work around the system? A little eye candy was all he needed to get inside, a hot piece of tail to show off to the cretin blocking his path to prove he deserved to be a patron of the establishment. Anything with a nice body would have sufficed, but he hit the jackpot stumbling across a crystal pony in a nothing town like Seaddle.
He hadn’t even known her for an hour, having spotted her walking down the street while looking for an escort. She was a timid creature, but a few moments alone allowed for the unicorn to work his magic and let loose her inhibitions. Now she could hardly keep her hands off him, letting the bouncer know how desirable he was. As she was, he could take her into an alley, drop his pants, and tell her to take the entirety of his shaft and balls into her muzzle and she would do it, no objections. He had other things on his mind though, something that he wanted more than even the crystal pony practically dry humping his body.
The earth stallion moved aside, unclipping a velvet rope to clear his path into the club. “About time,” He commented as he passed by, amused at how predictable some ponies were. Though if for some reason his date would not have been enough there was always that, but he would rather not bring attention to himself if he could.
The inside of the club was pretty much what he expected once he got inside, typical of this kind of club really. The front entrance led almost directly into the main room, being separated by a small corridor that had window in it with a mare waiting on the other side. Just beyond it was the club’s main room, a large area comprised of a large dance floor for the patrons to shake their stuff on surrounded by a few elevated platforms for those who enjoyed making themselves the center of attention, and a few booths for ponies to sit at so they could talk or watch others dance.
The unicorn could even spot at the end of the main room was a large bar with seats spanned round for ponies to order drinks, almost all of which alcoholic, and to complete the cliche was a large booth for a DJ pony to play records for the amusement of everyone there. The stallion wasn’t really a fan of the kind of music they played at these places, but he believed that one running the booth was called Nylon Tights, or something like that.
With the crystal mare at his side, the unicorn headed right for the dance hall, not getting one hoof onto it before hearing the mare behind the window cleared her throat to get his attention. There was a sign under her window that told what she wanted, the club having a fifteen bit cover charge per pony. It annoyed the stallion that they didn’t post that kind of thing outside, he had been waiting for at least a solid thirty minutes outside and he didn’t have any money on him.
“Wingshy, pay the mare for me would you,” the stallion said, “I seem to have left my coin purse at home.”
The crystal mare got in her purse, happy to pay admission for her date if it could make him happy. She placed thirty bits on the window’s counter for the mare and received two green wristbands in return as proof that they hadn’t snuck in somehow. “Thank you,” Wingshy politely said as she took the wristbands, turning back to the stallion to see that he had already made his way out of the corridor. “Smooth Moves, wait up!”
The stallion blew air out his nose as he denied himself a chuckle. “Smooth Moves”, he liked that name, but only for what it portrayed him as. A debonair pony that could sweep anyone off their feet with a few nice words and a little body language. It was complete nonsense, as it wasn’t real his real name to begin with, just one of many that he would cycle through to suit his mood. Good Looking, Hot to Trot, Studlee; each one served their purpose to make him seem desirable. Ponies did always see names as a verbal representation of who a pony was, even when it came to themselves, so why not take advantage of it. It wasn’t like his real name helped him find purpose in his identity, which was why he wasn’t as hung up on it as most other ponies were about their own.
Blank Slate, a name that literally meant nothing. He couldn’t take anything from something like that, no meaning that would guide him to some assumed destiny he was meant to fulfill. When other children were deciding they would become doctors, athletes or chefs before they were out of elementary school, Slate was stuck wondering what his role was until he eventually let it go, dismissing the concepts of pony names and cutiemarks altogether since he refused to be “nothing”.
With this perspective he begun to focus on the inner workings of the pony mind, which was probably an inevitability anyways seeing certain factors in his life that he tried not to think about, and with that focus came a realization of how the simple choice of a birth given name could decide what a pony would or could become. By adding a word like “Brave” or “Honest” the ponies subconsciously tried to live up to it, which is why he wasn’t surprised when his crystal mare tried to avoid speaking with him when he first approached. He loved seeing ponies break those stereotypes and strived to force them to do so when he would hear one of those self fulfilling names.
“Smooth Moves, please!” The pegasus called out to him, falling behind as Slate waded through the ponies enjoying the music and atmosphere the dance club provided.
Slate had his mind set on one thing though, something that he had heard rumored when he had entered the city. He only had to find it and his own fun would begin. However, while he felt what he was pursuing was more important than Wingshy, he did not want to lose her either. He had plans for her later that evening; a glorious series of events that would make this night one to remember. Well, at least one for him to remember.
He wasn’t going to get anywhere just wandering around aimlessly, he needed to figure out the layout of the the place and check the hotspots for what he sought. One of the tables would make for a good place to get his bearings, as well as provide a spot for he and Wingshy to meet up if they got separated. Not that he had any notion that she would want to leave his side.
Slate claimed an empty booth, Wingshy scooting in right beside him when she caught up, “Smooth Moves, don’t you want to dance a little before you sit down?” The pegasus asked, once more getting so close that she practically enveloped him. Perhaps he had caused her to be a little too loose, but he was still satisfied by making her act so far out of her normal demeanor.
Besides, this was a problem that could be solved with a light shove. Placing his hand between his and the crystal mare’s bodies, he gave himself some much needed space with an extension of his arm. “Wingshy, your affection is appreciated but I need a rest. We were standing in that line for some time, with you hanging onto me like a flash hurricane could come through.”
Wingshy straightened herself out in the seat, looking embarrassed as she heard how she had been acting, “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I usually don’t do this sort of thing, believe it or not, but for some reason I feel I can be open around you.”
“Yes, yes, I tend to bring that out in ponies,” Slate said offhandedly while surveying the area. There were so many ponies that he assumed that it would take all night to find what he wanted. Within a few minutes he was proven wrong, his eyes landing on one of the ponies on the dance platforms. The grin that grew on his face was so filled with perverse glee that even he was aware that it might of come off as creepy. He watched the swaying wrapped up tail on the pony’s flank but, as dark as it was, he allowed himself to express his enjoyment.
That white body covered in black stripes, concealed partially in form fitting leather that left little to the imagination, it was exactly what he imagined a zebra would look like. That tight ass that begged to be grabbed which lead down to slender legs that he wanted wrapped around his waist, the slim stomach toned to a perfect range of not being too solid or too flabby, a pretty face that showed how the zebra was absorbed by the rhythm flooding the room as they danced, and a spiky mane with two long braided ropes of hair coming out from behind their head that reached down to that lovely ass, each ended in one large ring. Then there was that muscular chest and decent bulge in the zebra’s shorts that let the stallion see that what he was staring at was male. Slate could feel his erection build as he followed his dance; each motion a fluid display of youthful energy and sensuality.
The unicorn leaned in forward on the table, wanting a closer look at the exoctic dancer. With moves and a body like that the zebra could have been making money instead of letting everyone watch him for free, but he could not complain. A show like this was rare, there were not many zebra in Equestria to begin with and he had been looking for one for a long time. He had once heard of something that sounded like one in some out of the way town called Ponyville a long time ago, but his search of the town proved fruitless, no one knowing what a zebra was, let alone where one would be.
Years of hunting was about to pay off though; the prize right before his eyes. He was perfect, a shining example of his race, and would be a fine notch on Slate’s belt by the end of the night. He only needed to get the zebra’s attention, get close enough to talk, and he would have him join Wingshy for an evening of pleasure. He might even keep him around for a while, if he proved to be as amusing in the sack as he was on the stage.
Slate thanked Celestia for being born a unicorn, as it made the first step a simple one. With a glow of his horn, Slate focused his levitation spell on the zebra’s bound tail first. Surely the club had some no touching policy that applied to using using one’s horn, but with all the flickering multicolored lights no one was going to be able to tell was was going on or where it was coming from. A quick flick was all he needed anyways, something strong enough to make the zebra aware something was going on.
With a hasty motion, he covered the wrapped up strands of hair and lifted them high up, briefly giving him a clear look at that firm ass, before allowing the tail to drop back down. As expected, the zebra stopped his movements and darted his eyes around the room as he tried to figure out who or what had touched his tail, but when he couldn't locate the perpetrator he slowly resumed his dance.
This amused Slate, as most ponies would’ve promptly left the stage upon such an intrusive sensation. What was that zebra thinking, he wondered. Could he be waiting for another tug? Slate wanted to believe that no pony in an outfit that revealing was out for just a night of dancing, but he couldn’t take that as anything more than himself projecting his wants onto the zebra. Still, the hard cock pressed uncomfortably against his pants demanded that he give it another go. His horn glowed once again, but this time he went for one of those lovely mane rings.
With his magic aura around the metal loop, the unicorn pulled it towards him. He wanted to make it obvious, lead the zebra to him directly. Once the braid went taut Slate was surprised to see the zebra grab hold of it, keeping his arm rigid and then using the appendage to lead him directly the unicorn. Slate knew he had gone too far, that he was going to lose his shot with the zebra as the look on his face was fierce. He had gotten the zebra’s attention, but with a look like that it wasn’t the kind that he wanted.
That seemingly hate-filled glare soon gave way, replaced by one gentler and intrigued that a pony wanted his attentions so badly to interrupt him mid performance. Keeping one eye on Slate, he stepped down from the stage, giving a quick wink before slipping into the crowd.
Clever little slut, Slate thought to himself as he watched zebra move through the other dancers, right to the spot where he was sitting, but, lucky for me, not too clever.
When the zebra got to the table he placed his hands on its edge, leaning towards the unicorn stallion, giving off a feeling of curiosity and interest at the one who had hassled him, “So it’s a stallion, a unicorn, that pulls tail and mane with its magic horn.”
Slate resisted the urge to squeal when he heard the zebra speak. It was just as he had heard in rumor. That rhyming was exactly as he had imagined. The quirk made them sound intelligent in a way, like they set up their sentences ahead of time and focused on the things they’d replied with, but for all he knew it could’ve just been how zebra was translated to pony. Either way it was a trait that Slate adored.
“I have a good idea as to what’s your aim, so why don’t you tell me what’s your name.” the zebra added, curving the edge of his lip up into a smirk.
“Smooth Moves,” Slate answered, “And this lovely mare is Wingshy. I hope you can pardon my rude behavior, but I just couldn’t resist. Those long braids just demanded to be pulled.” Though Slate believed he had little to worry about now that the zebra had come to him, he still did not want him or Wingshy to know his real name. There was advantage in anonymity, especially with what he had planned. “And what to they call an attractive colt like yourself?”
“I guess it’s only fair you pry, my given name would be Zunrai.” The zebra male removed himself from the table and slid into the booth next to Slate on the opposite side from the crystal pony, “Your bold actions have earned you a name and a wink, but for us to go further it will cost you a drink.”
“A very low price for the company of such an attractive pony,” said Blank Slate, “Wingshy, would you be so kind to fetch the three of us some drinks?” Wingshy, eager to please her stallion companion, flapped her wings and went into the air so she could go the bar without having to go through or around the occupied dance floor. “Isn’t she a treat?”
Zunrai nodded, “I’ll say that I have to agree, but with a pony like her what interests you with me?”
“Well I’m a stallion who feels that they shouldn’t be tied down to one pony, or one gender for that matter, and if I can be so forward, you don’t look like you’re against a night of unadulterated passion yourself.”
“You’re not the first to pull my ring, but how are you so sure of which way I swing?”
“I’m not,” Slate replied, “Or at least I wasn’t. Your dance was so enticing that I had to give it a try though, but now I think you’ve made it clear that you aren’t repulsed by the idea. If you were, I’m sure I would’ve been tossed into the streets on my ass by the bouncer the moment you found me out.”
“A fair assumption that could be, I might’ve based what I’d do on what I’d see.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, but I promise that I’m more than just my good looks,” Slate remarked, finding what the zebra said shallow, but not unwelcomed. He was after one thing, and part of his scheme revolved around ponies thinking he was attractive so he could be close to him. It made the next part of his plan all the easier.
“I’m back!” said Wingshy over the loud music, having walked back carrying three glasses filled with alcoholic beverages, doing what she could to not spill a drop on the ground. With much effort and concentration she made it back to her place aside Slate, setting the three glasses on the table.
“Very good Wingshy,” said the unicorn as he gave the girl a congratulatory pat on the head.
With his drink placed before him, Zunrai reached out to take it, but when his fingers touched the glass it was suddenly pulled away. He spotted quickly the cause, as the the unicorn wasn’t yet done toying with him, his magical aura covering the glass so he could float it around and out of reach.
“Not so fast,” said Slate, “I promised a drink, but if you want it you’ll have to humor me.” Using his spell, Slate brought the glass to the zebra’s mouth, pressing it softly against his lips, “Now open up and let me do all the work.”
To Blank Slate's surprise, the zebra seemed delighted by the idea. Zunrai had never been given a drink this way before. He really did not intend to go with him or the crystal pegasus after all this, he just wanted to make the jerk pay for spoiling his night. He had done so plenty of times before; someone would be unable to keep their hands or horns away from his body, so he would offer his company for a free drink, requesting another after another to make the pony think they were keeping him satisfied and open to whatever ideas they had.
When the stallion or mare would try to get them to go home with them he’d come up with some reason that he could not, that he had to go to work in the morning or had some other engagement that slipped his mind, arranging another meeting that he would “forget” to return to. It was the least that those ponies deserved for being so grabby and assuming that after invading his personal space he would be willing to let them take that violation to the next step, but maybe if this one played his cards right he would give some consideration to letting him watch while he and the pegasus went a few rounds with each other.
Closing his eyes, Zunrai allowed the stallion to tip the glass upwards, pouring its contents into his mouth. The drink had a strong taste of cherries that made it sweet while masking the powerful taste of vodka within. He might not have noticed it if he had not focused directly on the flavor, but the zebra knew his drink and could handle it well. If it was the stallion’s goal to get Zunrai drunk so that he could have his way with him, then he would find that it was not going to be so simple and it would cost him a few points for the attempt.
To his surprise though, the zebra felt the glass tilt back down and move away from his lips before its contents could be emptied. Opening his eyes, he saw the unicorn levitating the glass aside his head while he took a sip his own drink.
“Aaaahhhh…. refreshing,” Slate said, setting down his drink before looking back to Zunrai with mock surprise, “Oh, did you want some more?” he asked, “I suppose I could let you have another sip if you ask me for it in one of those pleasant limericks you do.”
Zunrai rolled his eyes, both at the unicorn’s showing ego, and that he did not seem to know what a limerick was. Still, he did want that liquor and all he wanted was for him to speak and beg a little. “Very well, if it will appease, I would like some more of that drink please.”
“That’s a good boy,” Slate said with a bit of joy in his voice, returning the glass back to Zunrai. Though while he gave the alcohol back to the zebra, he did not put it back where it was before, instead putting it at the zebra’s side so he’d have to turn his head to get his alcohol. Zunrai went along with this action, the idea of turning this into a game was appealing to him. For a small twist of his head he was rewarded with a few more sips before the glass was taken away once more.
“So Zunrai, Equestria is a far way from zebra lands. Mind telling how you ended up out this way?” the stallion asked, though he really didn’t look interested in his story. Zunrai figured he just wanted him to talk more, that he was fixated on the way he spoke and didn’t matter what it was he talked about.
“I came to Equestria to see the sights, but money soon became very tight. The foolishness of staying I couldn’t discern, and a valuable lesson I rightfully learned. So town to town I now roam, to earn the money to get back home.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Slate said, looking the zebra in the eyes, “Somepony like yourself shouldn’t be alone in a big place like Equestria.” He levitated the drink back to Zunrai, this time sending the glass all the way around his head.
The zebra shook his head, slightly amused at the stallion’s antics. There was no way around it though, so this time he turned around to receive his reward. At least this “Smooth Moves” was playful, and perhaps it wouldn’t be too much to let himself go for one night. It had been some time since he had a good lay.
He thought about what he and the two other ponies would do later that evening as the cherry flavored concoction hit his tongue again, that was until the glass slipped away from his lips for what would be the last time. The cup was not empty and the unicorn hadn’t pulled it away to further tease the zebra, instead it had simply fallen, dropped down into the zebra’s lap, making what remained in it spill all over Zunrai’s lap.
He could feel the liquids splashing across his lap, some of it making its way inside his shorts, soaking his crotch. He didn’t react though, for some reason not finding the sudden sensation bothersome, nor did he think much of the hands gripping his shoulders firmly, or much of anything at all for that matter. He was overcome by a feeling of tiredness, along with a strange sense of… well he was unable to explain it, but it felt like something inside him suddenly changed dramatically.
“There, there, just relax and this will all be over soon,” Slate whispered directly into the zebra’s ear, carrying a calm, comforting tone. “To be honest I wasn’t sure this would even work on you, but it seems to be no different than handling a common earth pony.”
Zunrai slumped back against the unicorn’s chest, moved far enough to spot the green glow of his horn, some of it reflecting off of Wingshy’s sparkling fur as she watched. He did not know what the stallion was doing, and he did not even care. All that mattered was that he was in the other man's arms.
“That’s right, just let it happen,” Slate said softly, “I have to say though, this is fairly disappointing. I expected you to be able to have some sort of resistance to this, with that supposedly complex brain of yours. How I longed to have you struggling against me as I explained that I was increasing the strength of your Id while simultaneously lowering your Super Ego, letting your desires become more important than your need to conform to social standards, but alas… Oh well, it’s not like you would’ve remember it regardless, or even understood what I was talking about.”
After roughly a minute Slate finished his spell, and released his grip on the zebra. From here on out it was going to be simple, he just needed to seal the deal with a bit of smooth talking and some incentive.
Zunrai opened his eyes and slowly he rose up out of the stallions lap, completely unaware of what just happened, “My gosh, you’ll have to forgive me. Asleep in your lap is not where I wished to be.”
Zunrai felt flustered by the sudden awareness that he was rubbing up against the unicorn, even if it felt pleasant in his arms. This feeling was quickly replaced though, as a rushing urge filled his body when an arm went around his waist and a hand gripped his dick through his clothing.
“No need to apologize,” Slate said, rubbing the zebra’s stiffening shaft with his index finger as the others rhythmically squeezed and released the concealed piece of meat. He was glad to to see that another rumor about the zebra was true, not that he was planning on taking the rod, but he’d find other ways of enjoying that cock, “I find it a compliment that you feel safe enough that you’d rest in my lap.”
Zunrai’s body felt aflame, heating up quickly as the stallion played with his privates. He had never met a pony so forward, touching his body without any expressed permission. He didn't think he would enjoy such a thing, but his body and mind were telling him that he loved it and wanted more. He hardly could think of a single objection to what he was doing, his primal desires overwhelming any sense of modesty or morality.
“I never thought it’d feel so good, to have a pony touch my w-ump!” Zunrai’s chin was grabbed, forced to turn in Slate’s direction so the stallion could plant an open mouthed kiss. A tongue shot into his muzzle, moving around wildly as if searching for something in desperation. Zunrai’s resistance fell little by little, and his own tongue joined in to return the deep kiss.
When Slate pulled away, he couldn’t hide his pleasure. The zebra had a look in his eyes like a virgin having just made out for the first time, despite the unicorn’s thoughts that he was not near the first male he’d done this with before. The rush of emotions the zebra must be feeling, confused on how a simple kiss could excite him so. In some ways Slate envied that he himself could not experience the intensity of desire the zebra was going through, not that he wanted to be in his place.
The hand on Zunrai’s cock moved upwards toward the waistband of his shorts, snapping the button apart that held it together before grabbing its zipper and releasing the zebra’s engorged dick from its leather restraint.
“How cute,” Slate stated, belittling the penis that was honestly bigger than his own by far. “I’m going to have fun with that. First though…. Wingshy, could you please ease this colt’s swelling?”
The crystal pegasus leaned forward, not having to be told twice. She too was completely unaware of Slate’s mental influences on her, and likewise didn’t care that she was acting strange because of it. All she desired was for her want to be satisfied, how it was did not matter. Bending over Slate’s legs, resting her breasts in the crevice between them, she put her head under the table and wrapped her lips around Zunrai’s pole.
The zebra threw his head back in the onset of pleasure, the sucking and licking of the mare on his sensitive flesh feeling wonderful. He couldn’t move, paralyzed by how good it felt. She did not do anything special, just simple bobs of her head as she licked up and down his throbbing rod. All the while the unicorn stallion just watched, only placing his hand into the girl’s mane so he could guide her motion. It didn’t take long for his body to tense up, his sack squeezing his balls as he shot his load into the back of her throat.
Wingshy did her best to swallow all of it, but small droplets escaped out of the cracks between her stretched lips and the zerbra’s penis. The white fluids steamed down, pooling down into his shorts. It was a little embarrassing, but incredibly satisfying…. and Zunrai wanted more.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Slate asked, knowing the answer.
“I’ve never done something like this before,” Zunrai replied, “It makes me feel kinda like a whore.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” said Slate, “I want to make you feel dirty, Zunrai, show you things that you’ve never done before. Wingshy and I can show you pleasure like you could never dream, but….”
Zunrai watched the stallion grip Wingshy’s mane and pull her off his still erect cock. He did not like that her warm mouth was no longer around him, and he almost whimpered aloud in dismay.
“If you want to join us you’ll have to give yourself to me tonight, as my submissive bitch. That is the price for the ecstasy I have to offer.”
Zunrai didn’t even have to think about it, his want was slowly becoming a need, and he was shown what he believed was just a taste of what the unicorn had to offer. “I fear that I cannot refuse, so for this night… I’m yours to use.”
“Then zip up your pants you slut, we’re gonna go do some shopping. Then, we’re going to go to your place so you can earn the pleasure I have to give.”
The three ponies left the club together, drawing the attention of plenty of those waiting to get in. The trio of a unicorn, a zebra and a crystal pegasus was something that was not often seen often, if at all. There were three sets of eyes that kept specifically close watch, however. From the shadows of a nearby alley, a unicorn was leaning against the brick wall of a building.
“Did you see that?” He asked, pulling out a toothpick from his mouth, casting it aside with a flick of his wrist. “That guy has no sense of subtlety.”
“That’s the one that Schorl wanted?” said a voice from above him.
“He doesn’t seem all that special,” said another, “Just another rich unicorn with nothing better to do except find ways get laid… no offense.”
The unicorn looked up, spotting two dark mares with bat-like features leaning over the roof above. “He’s the one…“ he said with a heavy sigh in his voice, ignoring the second one’s comment. “And for his sake, he better be capable of something useful.”
Was the first thing out of Blank Slate’s mouth when he stepped inside Zunrai’s rented Seaddle home. It was small, Slate could easily see the kitchen and bedroom from where he stood at the entrance. There was another room off to the side that he assumed held the bathroom beyond it..That was pretty much all there was. He had hoped for something more from the zebra, but this was going to have to do. They could have went to Wingshy’s place instead, but she was renting out a hotel room and he did not want to be disturbed while he had his fun.
“I’m sorry and hope you forgive, the humble home in which I live,” said Zunrai apologetically. He was already deep in Slate’s control which the unicorn reinforced periodically. A slight touch here, a light nibble there, and plenty of magic to keep the zebra’s mind flooded with the prospects of pleasure and the idea that only Slate could provide it.
“It’s inadequate, but I suppose I can’t be too picky.” Slate said as he looked at the gaudy decorations on the walls. With his limited knowledge of zebra culture he could tell that they were trinkets from the zebra homeland: small shields, spears and other tribal decorations that put the unicorn in a state of mild unease.
The decor made Slate feel like he was in a bad documentary that featured a backwater tribe. He hoped that a zebra that had enough intellect to leave a place like that for Equestria would have a more sensible interior design, but the zebra did say that he was trying to go back to his homelands. “No matter, it will just add to the ambiance. Now why don’t we get down to what we came here for? Pull those shorts down a little and let me get a better look at what you have to offer me.”
A goofy grin crossed Zunrai’s lips and he reached down to unbutton his skin tight shorts and slowly slid them downwards until they reached his knees. His fully erect dick sprung out, the impressive exotic shaft flicking droplets of precum that had been streaming down it from its head. If the zebra had not been wearing leather, everyone would have noticed an enormous wet spot at his crotch.
Slate stepped forward, pleased with what he saw. This was the moment of truth, where he would see if his efforts were worth the trouble. The unicorn reached down, horn aglow as he cast his spell, and grabbed the cock. He squeezed it firmly and pressed his thumb against his urethra. He gave Zunrai a grin as he said, “Tonight this belongs to me, you got that?”
The zebra’s black and white face was joined with a shade of red; he had no idea why he had so easily accepted the unicorn’s advances. He was arrogant, rude, and, at the moment, aggressive with his most delicate of areas. But... something about it felt right, which was the most confusing part of it all. He had never been attracted to ponies like this, but maybe that was what made this different. He never gave them a chance, had never been with one long enough to know what it felt like. Whatever the reason, he was completely infatuated with the stallion. “In order to fix my penis’ plight, I’ll gladly make it yours tonight…”
Slate placed his free hand behind Zunrai’s neck and, using the grip on both that and the zebra’s lower appendage, pulled him against his chest, “You know what? I think I’ve changed my mind,” Slate said, letting it be known through his voice and facial expressions that he was dropping any and all pretenses that this was for the zebra’s benefit. This was to satisfy his own desires, and his alone, “All of your body belongs to me tonight. If you even want a chance to get any kind of relief from that meat rod of yours, you’ll agree to be my slave, for tonight at least, and obey me without question. Just say the words.”
Zunrai couldn’t think straight, becoming lost in the unicorn’s deep, entrancing eyes. Everything was telling him to just agree, to let him have his way. His body was flushed and felt like it was on fire, his shaft throbbed under the squeezing and releasing possessive hand on his shaft forcing his arousal higher and higher until his needs became irresistible. Even looking away from him to the crystal pegasus that was with them only let him see that she was engrossed in the scene as well, eyes wide as she took in everything while holding a plastic bag full of…. he could hardly remember. Seeing her like that made him feel guilty for even trying to resist; how could he refuse and deny the ponies what they wanted?
“Very well, I will behave, and for tonight I’ll be your sex slave.”
Blank Slate gave the male zebra a kiss on the cheek and released him. “That’s a good boy,” he said, releasing Zunrai and pinching his cheek where he had kissed it before walking away to a table right outside of the kitchen, “Wingshy, would you bring our supplies over here so we can start?”
“Yes Smooth Moves!” Said the pegasus, excited that they were about to begin.
Reminded that he was using an alias, Slate decided to give his two new pets a more appropriate name to call him, “No more of that, my sweet Wingshy. From this point on both of you will address me by a more appropriate title: Master.”
“Yes Master, gladly!” said the mare, placing her bag on the table.
“And bring it down a little. No need to raise your voice all the time,” he said, starting to notice that he had gone overboard when increasing the mare’s enthusiasm.
“Oh, yes, Master. Forgive me, I’m just so excited. I can’t wait till we… you know.”
“Of course you are,” Slate condescended. Her mind was so easy to control that she was little more than a puppet to his whims, ready to dance at his slightest command. He had even gotten her to purchase the tools that he would be using this evening. “And no need for you to keep any of that modesty. Be as crass as you want.” Taking the bag from her hands, Slate realized the folly of that command, “On second thought, be as crass as I want. Don’t hold back any words that come to mind when referring to yourself. I want you to come up with a new degrading word to define yourself. Start off with ‘cock sleeve’, it’ll amuse me.”
“Yes, Master, this… um… cock sleeve will do her, or I mean, its best.”
It was nowhere near perfect, but he could only work with what was already up in that skull. From a girl who acted like she’d never seen a dick in her life till tonight, unless a certain dark lord decided to have her swallow his “Rod of Destruction”, this was the best he would get out of her. It would make for a nice contrast to the zebra, as that one looked like he’d had more than his fair share of dick and would suit his needs better.
Tossing the bag on the table, Slate took every item out of it and laid them out, organizing it all in a way that pleased him. With the items set neatly in front of him, he offhandedly beckoned the zebra to come towards him.
Zunrai removed his shorts fully and followed the directions given to him, heart pounding and unable to see past the lust building inside him. It was like all reason inside him was turned off completely, his inhibitions taken away from him. As he looked over the objects that the unicorn he had called “Master” had before him, he knew that he should stop and get the stallion out of his home, but that instinct was ignored. The mere chance to experience pleasure at his hand was far too great.
Blank Slate grabbed the closest thing to him on the table, a package of a hundred zipties of different colors . They were just regular strips of plastic made to hold things together, but Slate long ago found a purpose for them outside of their industrial usage. In fact every item on the table was something that could be purchased freely from a store of one kind or another. Slate never had access to proper equipment for his “hobby”, but that only spurred him toward creative ways of getting the same effect.
“Until I say otherwise your name is…. ‘Stripes’. That seems appropriate, wouldn’t you agree my zebra slave?” The unicorn turned towards the zebra, his eyes directed downward by that fully erect pole attached to his plaything’s crotch.
“My Master can call me by any name, in the end it’s all the same.”
“Very well, then turn around for me Stripes, and we can get you ready.”
Zunrai, or perhaps “Stripes” in this case, gladly turned around for his master as his mind slipped further and further away with each second. It put a smile on Slate’s face to finally see that tight ass in full view, unobstructed by the leather that hardly hid its form. It was all he could do to keep from pulling that black and white tail up, bending the foolish boy over the table and taking him right there. There had to be an order to all this, a set of procedures to assert not only his control over the ponies at his command, but over himself.
He could take both of them at any moment, rip the clothing off their bodies and ravage them like a ferocious beast so that he could get satisfaction as soon as possible. That would not please him though. Even with both their minds altered so that they were at his mercy, he couldn’t just let loose. He needed to savor this moment that may never come again, treat it like a fine wine and take in the flavor. Take his time, partake of this feast of pleasure and flesh in small bites, and make sure not to overload his palate. That would be what would make the most out of this encounter, what he dreamed so long about. What would bring him true pleasure.
“Remove your shirt,” Slate commanded, “And Wingsh- I mean, ‘Twinkle’, remove every piece of clothing on your body. I want both my slaves to be left bare before their master.”
They both obeyed without question, taking off every article of clothing that remained. “Twinkle” was particularly interesting for Slate to watch as her inherent reserved nature conflicted with her eagerness. How she rushed to remove the the clothes that hid her shimmering form from the eyes of those in the room, but took the time to fold them up neatly and place them in a stack on the floor.
He decided on the spot that she would not be getting any of them back, and when they were finished she would have to walk back to her hotel naked. Then as quickly he came up with that idea the unicorn’s mind stumbled onto a better idea: she could have the clothing when they were finished, but only so he could escort her to her hotel room and take every article of clothing she had. That would guarantee that she suffered the kind of embarrassment that would excite him when she would inevitably have to leave it after being released from his control, even if he would not be around to see it personally.
Now that his thralls were naked and waiting for his next command, there was nothing to stop him from proceeding, “Stripes, put your hands behind your back and hold perfectly still.”
The zebra once more obeyed without so much as a sound of objection, putting his hands behind his back right above his rear, resting them crossed on the base of his tail. It was more than Slate had expected, this one seemed to have played this game before. Yes, this was in no way a fluke or coincidence, he was waiting to have his hands tied. If Slate was not restraining his emotions as he was, he would have had a good laugh at that. Instead he kept himself composed as he opened his bag of zipties and used his horn to levitate them one by one to their destination.
The unicorn started by wrapping several ties around Zunrai’s left wrists, five in total, sliding their ends into the eyes and pulling them through until little slack was left in each. It almost looked like they were ring bracelets if one overlooked the long strands of spare plastic. He did the same to the other wrist, giving both arms an appearance of symmetry, before slipping three more in between the two rows to link them together. When the unicorn finished up by tightening the ties around his wrists they formed into a pair of makeshift cuffs, allowing the zebra restrained movement within an inch apart from one another.
Zunrai tested his bonds and found them solid enough to hold even his most powerful attempts. The middle section of his cuffs had just enough give to them that they didn’t break when he pulled against them, while the ones around his wrists held firmly as they bit into his skin with every tug. The zebra had little time to admire the unicorn’s ingenuity as his world suddenly went black.
Slate, not wasting any of his precious time, tossed what remained of the bag of ties on the table and moved onto a small box of black trash bags. He took a small amount of joy watching the surprised male twist and turn his head in a panic as he used his magic to envelope the sack around his head. He knew he could not appreciate the zebra’s fear for too long, and grabbed a pair of scissors from his collection of tools.
He took hold of the zebra’s head and wrapped his arm around Zunrai’s neck. Unicorns weren’t exactly known for their physical power, but in the right position anyone could easily overpower one stronger than they were. Slate loved showing an earth pony that for all their alleged strength they could be just as easily taken down with the right holds. It seemed that zebras, even one in a state of disorientation and shock, could not compare to the fight they could give.
“Settle down Stripes,” Slate said in a loud, commanding voice to get it through the thin layer of plastic wrapped around the zebra’s skull. “This is part of your ensemble, and if you’d hold still a moment I’ll make it much more acceptable.”
The zebra’s flails stopped, but he still shook and trembled, unsure of what was going to happen. With him subdued, Slate brought the scissors to the top of the bag and cut two holes into it. He then reached inside the holes to pull out Zunrai’s ears so they poked cutely out the back of the sack.
“Better?” Slate asked, less concerned and more testing if he could hear properly. He received a nod in return. “Good, now keep still.”
Another few snips at the front of the bag created two slits for Zunrai’s nostrils, which gave Slate the comfort of knowing his new pet would not suffocate while he levitated over another item from the table: a simple roll of duct tape. Perhaps the most easily acquired and recognizable item related to his fetish, he could do so many different things with a roll of this wonderful silver material. Trying a pony down to a chair, use it as a gag, he could even completely bind one’s arms and legs in a sleeve if he had enough of it. But, he believed he had a new use for it that would be satisfying.
He started at the neck, wrapped it around and around while his magic kept the trash bag pulled down tightly. He formed the tape into a collar of sorts, circling the throat closely with the adhesive side holding the bag within. With the bag secured around his neck, Slate cut it free from the rest of the roll and proceeded to do the same around Zunrai’s muzzle, wrapping it up until the unicorn was certain he would not be able to open his mouth again. Another snip freed the roll again, leaving just one more spot for its use. He stretched and cut off a few lengths, finalizing his work by taping up the edges around the zebra’s ears to form a seal. It was completed. His jury-rig not as visually appealing as an actual hood made of leather or latex, but it would serve the purpose all the same. All it needed was a few more cuts to remove the large amount of excess tape sticking out from the tape collar.
“Ummm… Master?” a timid and worried voice spoke up voice at his side.
“What is it Twinkle?” asked Slate, testing his handiwork.
“Are you going to do that to m- I mean… to this umm… slutty pegasus?” Wingshy asked back.
“No, it takes too long to get this made. I want to play with my toy, hrmph!” Slate made a strong yank against tape collar to make sure it would hold together. It did, and the sudden and powerful pull caused Zunrai to announce his own discomfort in a muffled grunt.
“Oh…. well ok…”
Slate stopped and released the helpless zebra. He understood the sad tone that was coming from the crystal pegasus. All this time she had been playing second fiddle to the zebra, waiting patiently while the pony she was irresistibly and unexplainably attracted to fawned over another. He could use her to pay for everything he needed that night, and could use her mind altered state to his own amusement, but even he did not have the heart to remove her inhibitions and then neglect the needs he instilled in her.
“My poor, sweet Twinkle,” Slate said as he got close to the mare and grabbed her supple rear and squeezed it so hard it made the mare’s body tense up. “I haven’t been giving you the attention you need, have I?”
Wingshy’s breasts pressed into the unicorn’s suit as he pulled her against him, and in a flash her crystalline body went rigid in surprise. She had never felt this way before, and she would have never thought she’d enjoy the idea of being someone’s slave. She had been one back when the Crystal Empire was under the cruel rule of King Sombra where she had to mine for crystals all day and slept in a cold cell at night. This was different though, in the short time she knew this stallion he had made her come out of her shell and see how giving herself to another was a good thing without doing anything to try to woo her. Just him being close brought her comfort and because of that she wanted to do everything she could to make him happy.
“M-Master, please don’t worry about a… umm, penis warmer like me. I know that I’m not as interesting as… Stripes...” said the mare. She wanted so badly for the unicorn to simply dismiss what she had to say so he would keep her in his arms. As close together as they were she felt the bulge in the crotch of his pants that brushed against her bare pussy, and she wanted nothing more than to have the piece of cloth separating them to be removed.
“Nonsense.” Slate placed his hand under Wingshy’s chin and guided her eyes into his dominating gaze, “You might not be as unique a creature as a zebra in Equestria, but you are still my slave. You deserve just as much of your master’s attention as he does. That is… unless you really think you don’t,” he teased her.
“NO!” Wingshy gripped the front of the unicorn’s suit jacket in her hands, pulling them tightly together . It was wonderful for the unicorn to see her acting dependant on him, but he had to make sure that didn’t turn into possessiveness. Once he was done with her it would not matter, as she would revert to how she was before he had used his magic on her, but it would be a turn off if her personality turned indignant.
“Well then,” Slate said as he brushed the mare’s hands off of his jacket, “I suppose a response like that deserves a reward of sorts, as well as a punishment for being so brash,” He reached down and slid his hand under the tape collar he fashioned on Zunrai to lift him up to his hooves. With his free hand he harshly clutched one of Wingshy’s breasts, his fingers stopping only when she started to cry out. He found that he enjoyed squeezing her soft body until she squealed. With his two playthings in tow he levitated his implements behind them as he made his way to the bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind them.
Tens of minutes passed and Slate had made himself comfortable in a cushioned armchair that resided in the zebra’s room, his legs rested upon the most delightful of foot rests. For having such a girlish figure, the zebra sure had a strong set of shoulders. Even when he dropped his hooves down as heavily as he could without outright slamming them down, the boy budged only slightly in his crouched position.
Then again he may have just been trying his best not to be driven down on the waxy bumpy cucumber that threatened to tear his rear in two. Nature provided many excellent dildos with the variety of phallic fruits and vegetables it created. While at the same market that he had gotten everything else, Slate had picked out the largest, firmest cucumber he could find with the sole intention of shoving it into the zebra’s ass. The unicorn couldn’t get a good look at Zunrai’s lovely, stretched anus with the boy’s tail in the way, sprawled out on the floor below his legs, but just the knowledge of it being halfway inside that tight ass pleased him.
“Twinkle, what’s taking you so long?” as much as the quivering male supporting his legs made his own dick twitch and inflated his ego, it was about time he indulged in something more physical.
“I’m-ow! Almost-Ah! Done, Master!” Wingshy answered, amid sounds of mild pain, from the other side of the room.
“Show me, my fuck toy,” said Slate casually, his eyes on Wingshy as she stood before a large dresser mirror, still keeping to the role he set for himself despite having complete control over the situation.
Wingshy turned around, revealing the clothespins that clung onto her breasts. Almost two dozen had been attached to both of the lovely lumps, sticking outwards away from them while pinching the sensitive skin. Their placement was perfect, not in a sense that they were completely symmetrical or otherwise in order, they were far from that. The way the clothespins were attached was so amateuristic in style that they seemed placed at random, which was ideal for a pony like Slate. He had seen clothespins and clamps used in displays of bondage before, mares and stallions depicted in S&M photo magazines with rows of them on sensitive body parts. The problem with those images though was that had professionals in them that knew how to place the pinching devices and how to tone out the pain to minimize the severity of what they felt. The crystal mare did not have such an advantage, and when she winced it was one hundred percent real.
“Twinkle, Twinkle, does it hurt?” The unicorn asked, delighting at the tremor in her arms. How hard it must’ve been for her to keep herself from removing the pins.
“No Master… It’s fine. I’m okay as long as it makes you happy.”
The dedication to endure it for him was refreshing, even if it was only a product of his mind control. If only there was a way to keep her like this, have her willingly do tricks and suffer for his gratification. Unfortunately, his spell would wear off, and when it did any and all influence he had on his slaves would vanish. In fact, those that fell under his power held no recollection of the events that happened when their minds were altered. He was not really sure why that happened, though he attributed it to his magic creating an alternate personality to allow for such a drastic change in thought. He couldn’t certain if this was actually the case, but it was the best he could come up with when he put heavy thought into the matter. Regardless of the reason, it allowed for a convenient method to cover up his misdeeds. Buy a pony a few drinks, alter their minds until they begged to be abused, and when he left they would wake up in bed thinking they had a drunken one night stand, never questioning anything after that.
Slate licked his lips, he was aching to get this started. His dick was pressing so hard against the crotch of his pants that he could feel the zipper touching its head. When he unzipped himself it shot straight up proudly. What made his cock even harder was the cute gasp that came from the pegasus staring at it. He wasn’t sure why, the zebra’s was much bigger in both length and girth. It was the first time that she had seen her master’s shaft though, so perhaps she would have done that no matter what the size.
“Twinkle, come here and wrap yourself around me.”
The crystal mare walked over to the armchair slowly, a faint voice in her head begged her not to go through with the stallion’s demand. It couldn’t compete to the other one flooding her thoughts, a booming voice that ordered her to comply. If anything the nearly muted whispers only delayed the inevitable. With a lift of her leg she put her knee on the chair’s cushion at one side of the stallion before using it as support to place her other knee on the opposing side to straddle the unicorn with her hips.
She reached an arm downward from her breasts and used her fingers to spread her lower lips apart to open herself as wide as her untaken privates would allow. Her other arm reached behind her master to the back of the chair and gripped it to give her something to balance against. With her body secured and her opening spread, she took one final deep breath and took the plunge that would change her life.
Wingshy pushed herself downwards so that her master’s cock and her own crotch could touch one another, but quickly encountered resistance. Either her master was too large, or her entrance was too small; either way, the tip was had problems working itself inside. On her first attempt it slipped out of position and the pegasus ended up sitting in the stallion’s lap, his shaft standing in front of her and reached up just below her belly button. The second try she accidentally went down as she adjusted and aimed the appendage, and the angle it was at caused it to slide in between her legs and along the cheeks of her rear. Her inexperience embarrassed her and only got in the way of her master’s pleasure.
Slate chuckled at the clumsy display, and finally grabbed himself to help guide it in. With his assistance the crystal mare could concentrate on impaling herself on his rod, which made all the difference. It felt wonderful as those soft lips begun to wrap around the most important part of his body and when the swollen tip popped inside her virgin vaginal passage it was ecstasy. Her tiny yelp enhanced the experience and told Slate that he was large and would cause her pain during the act. There was no better compliment to his masculinity than the idea that he was too much stallion for her to handle. He would have fun being the one to break her in. He took the girl’s hips in his hands and showed no mercy , using his full force to push her down as he thrust upwards.
The mare’s howls filled the room. Crimson flowed from her invaded pussy, her maidenhead stood no chance when Slate burst through it. Her insides were in pain, each throb from the organ inside her sent shots to her brain. It was for her master, that was what she had to remind herself, and with that thought as her compass she moved herself up and down on the rigid flesh. Each bounce brought pain to not only her stretching and constricting vaginal tunnel, but also her breasts as the clothespins on them moved as they bounced with her.
“Twinkle, are you on a birth control pill?” Slate asked in between a few grunts.
Wingshy paused, truth be told she was not. Having never had sex with anything but a few toys she owned, she never felt the need to take them. She could feel herself start to cry, hanging her head when she realized that not having taken one would mean she would n’t be able to finish. A stallion like him would never want to risk impregnating her and then being stuck with a family he did not plan for. She was going to disappoint him, but the truth had to be told, “No master, this stupid mare isn’t on birth control…”
“I see…” Slate said, placing his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his head in his hand. For about half a minute there was silence in the room save for Wingshy’s light sobs, until Slate asked the mare, “Well what are you waiting for?”
“W-what?”
“At what point did I tell you to stop?” Slate scolded.
Wingshy immediately went back to task and ignored any pain that filled her nerves. She increased her efforts by moving faster and virtually slamming herself down each time she lifted her body up, the impact traveling down Slate’s elevated legs so that the zebra supporting them felt her every bounce. Her vigor and enthusiasm amused Slate and he gladly allowed her to wrap her arms around his neck and embrace him. It was an acceptable reward for the mare that would be carrying his child for the next nine months.
It was another of the unicorn’s kinks, impregnating the women that he had under his control. It thrilled him to think that mares all over Equestria carried his children, and with their memories of him cleared from their minds they would be left to raise the foal by themselves without him having to care about putting in his own contributions to its upkeep, fitting punishment for being too careless or simply incapable of resisting his magic. He was sure that he had a few dozen offspring across Equestria by now. He had been at this for some time, with many, many different partners.
He had even taken the occasional extra step to ensure it happened, controlling a mare’s mind over the course of a week, constantly shooting his seed inside her. When it came to this desire he had no qualms or taboos either; in fact, he delighted in the act. While he liked the idea of a single mare like Wingshy carrying his foal in their wombs, it excited him all the more when he forced a mare who had a coltfriend to have his child. Then there was his absolute favorite thing to do: controlling the minds of a married couple and have them serve him hand, hoof, and body before he left them with his little gift. There was probably some poor sap out there taking care of one of his children, assuming that it was his own, and the very notion of that possibility gave Slate a feeling of superiority like no other.
His thoughts were interrupted by Wingshy’s sudden moan as she reached an orgasm brought on by a mixture of pain and pleasure, and the spasming of her inner walls along with his fantasizing sent Slate into his own climax. The release of cum shot into the mare’s womb as her wings rapidly flapped in joy. It was so rare that a pony could fulfill their every desire and fantasy, but some force in the universe certainly smiled down upon the unicorn when it gave him the powers he possessed. How many stallions could say they could get a fresh piece of ass every night if they wanted, that they could fucked a beautiful crystal mare and top off the night with the tight asshole of a bound and gagged zebra twink. This was the kind of life that ponies could only dream of.
Knock, Knock, Knock
Came a loud pounding from the door which made Slate and Wingshy look out the open doorway that lead from the bedroom to the living room. Even Zunrai lifted his head and flicked his ears at the noise.
“Expecting friends over Stripes?” asked Slate, still panting with Wingshy after the ride she gave him. The zebra mumbled a little behind his trash bag hood and shook his head in reply. “Odd that someone’s coming this late at night then. Oh well, we’ll just ignore them and they’ll go away eventually.”
That was what he hoped, but the knocking came a second time, then a third, and a fourth, a fifth…. whoever it was had tenacity. It didn’t sound like it was going end anytime soon either.
“Twinkle… get off me and get Stripes on the bed. Face down, with his ass in the air. I’ve got to take care of this.” He commanded, finishing his statement with a strong slap across the pegasus’ breasts which knocked off most of the pins that were clinging to them to force one last yelp out of the girl before she got off his lap and took Zunrai to the bed as he had instructed. He watched for a moment as she did, happy to watch her walk a little funny from her first fucking as she dripped a pinkish-white fluid out of her used hole down her thighs and to the floor.
He wasn’t able to sit idle for long though as another series of knocks reminded him why the crystal pegasus left his cock to begin with. Slate pulled his pants back up as he got out of his seat and begrudgingly headed for the door. He did not want to be distracted from his playtime, but neither could he send either of the other two to do this. Cutting Zunrai out of his bondage and replacing it afterwards would take too long, and Wingshy would mess things up somehow, he was sure. Best if he took care of the callers himself, even if it was a bother.
“Fine, fine, one second,” Slate said irritably to another set of knocks that greeted his approach. With a turn of a knob lock and the removal of a chain, he opened the door to see who was being such a nuisance. He was surprised to see what was waiting for him.
Two mares, one with fur of light grey and one of purple, ears bearing an unnatural point at the tips along with a small excess of fluff, fangs visible at the fronts of their mouths, and wings of leathery skin instead of feathers. Thestrals, or to the laymen’s terms bat ponies. A rare species; not as much as a crystal pony, but still something not commonly seen throughout Equestria. They instantly made Slate’s blood pump into his recovering cock and reform the bulge inside his pants, already conjuring daydreams of being with the two creatures.
Wait a second here Slate, the unicorn thought to himself, You’re lucky, but you’re not that lucky. These two are here for something.
“Can… I help you two?” the unicorn asked warily.
To his question the two mares pulled out a pair of badges from the pockets of their jackets. “Amethyst and Violet of the Royal Equestrian Night Guard,” they said together, sending a chill down Slate’s spine. What in Equestria were they doing here?
The purple mare, of whom he assumed was “Violet”, put her badge away and stated, “We’ve been hearing reports about some strange noises coming from this house. Mind if we come in and look around?”
“Actually, yes…” said Slate. He really did not want two guards to see his two pets. They were under his command and would agree that the bondage was consensual, but the guards would start asking questions that he didn’t want to answer.
“Well that’s too bad,” the grey mare said as she pushed her way inside, “Exigent circumstances, gotta check ta make sure ya aren’t tying down some innocent ponies and making them be your sex slaves.”
Slate’s heart lept; that was far too on the nose for any simple public disturbance. Did these two know what he was doing? How? He had been at this for so long, there was no way they could possibly know. Yet that was something that no member of the guard would just outright say, not without reason. He stepped aside to allow the two bat ponies in, unable to stop them in his shocked state. They came in side by side, walking past him like he wasn’t even there. The door was left open, he could make a run for it.
No, that would be stupid. They were faster, stronger, and could see better in the dark of the night than he could in the day. He would never get away and it would make him look even more guilty, but the mare’s statement made him feel like they already knew. There were only two of them, and he was already harboring ideas about them anyways, so it seemed like he was going to have to control their minds just to get away. It would cause a small complication with his slaves in the bedroom, but he could deal with that limitation to his magic, prison he could not.
The unicorn rushed behind the two bat ponies, both foolishly oblivious to his attack, with his horn glaring with his magical power. He wrapped his arms around both their waists, holding on tightly as he placed his head in between theirs. “Don’t try to fight it my pets, you’ll soon realize that you’re safe in your master’s hands.”
The unicorn’s intense magic worked quick, and the two hardly made a struggle before they felt their minds alter. It wasn’t without difficulty though, as Slate struggled to force out any and all magic he could to get the thestrals complacent as fast as he could. Within seconds sweat was dripping off his fur and his head hurt from the attempt to drastically alter their perceptions. That would not be enough though, he could only increase or decrease the strength of the three major parts of their psyche: the ego, the super ego and the id. With those he could make a pony more receptible to influence, but he still had to provide the influence for them to be subjectible to. He could not move his head from between their heads without losing proximity for his spell, but he could still do something to show them that being his sluts for the night would be more beneficial than arresting him.
He wrapped his arms around them to grab their breasts and massage them to stimulate some pleasure. All he needed was a little something to entice them. With a suppressed super ego and a heightened Id the slightest bit of pleasure would become an ocean of lust. He had to say though, while the pony he thought was Amethyst had decent sized boobs, Violet’s were not very impressive. Through the leather jacket the purple thestral was wearing he could tell she hardly had anything there: a B cup at best. When she fell completely under his control Slate would have to punish her extra hard for trying to arrest him and daring to approach him with less than a C.
“So… this is how you do it.”
Slate paused, his body frozen while his horn continued to alter the minds of the mares. There was another pony with them, from the sound of the voice a stallion. Standing right behind him. This made things much more complicated. He cursed this intrusion as it was one pony too many. He wasn’t going to be able to have his fun now, he had to focus on survival. It was going to take all he had just to get out and leave the guards wondering what it was they were doing in the first place. He had no choice though, so he turned around fast to try and catch this stallion off guard and get control of his mind for as long as he could before skipping town.
But then he saw what he was up against, he again stopped dead. His eyes were locked onto one thing, a horn that poked out of a mess of a brown mane. A unicorn… why did it have to be a unicorn?
“What’s wrong?” the stallion asked, not looking at all intimidated by Slate while pulling a toothpick from an inside pocket of his suit coat. “You running out of juice?” the stallion took a step forward, making Slate likewise take a step back, “Or is there something about my horn you don’t like?”
Slate lifted his hands up, matching the other unicorn step for step as he did all he could to keep his distance. This lasted as long as it took for him to stumble into the bat mares before tripping over his own hooves. The impact with the ground broke his concentration which made the glow from his own horn cut off completely.
With the absence of the mind control spell, the two bat ponies shook their heads. This terrified Slate as it was a clear sign that his spell wasn’t on them long enough to take hold. In seconds they would be back to normal and he was for all practical purposes defenseless.
“Wha… what happen?” Amethyst asked, touching her forehead.
“I feel like a chariot ran over my brain,” Violet added.
The other unicorn put his arms around their shoulders to steady them, and glared down at the prone Blank Slate. “He was trying to use some sort of mind control spell on the both of you ,” he said, holding the the toothpick in the corner of his mouth with his teeth, lips curled up in a faint almost bored snarl, “Rules out the drug theory I had. By the way, while you were under he felt both of your chests.”
The two mares looked shocked that they had been under mental control, but that passed when they heard that Slate had been groping them. The anger on both their faces was obvious and when he stared into their hate filled eyes any remnant of his erection retreated.
A swift kick to the chest was the first thing he felt, coming from Amethyst, “You pervert! Who do you think you are, grabbing our tits!”
Slate collapsed into a heap, his head making a thunk as it bounced off the floor. That thestral kicked like a mule, he could already feel the bruise forming where she hit. As he laid there in groaning in agony, he could see Wingshy looking out of the bedroom in horror. How in Tartarus did this happen. This was suppose to be a perfect night, he had a crystal pegasus and a zebra at his beck and call and everything was going according to plan. Now it was a perfect disaster.
“Be careful,” Violet said, catching Slate’s attention as she stepped over to his head, “We don’t want to hurt him too much.” The last thing Slate saw was the mare’s hoof being lifting above his head followed by darkness.
Canterlot castle was alive with ponies going about their daily routines. Guards patrolled the halls, maids and butlers saw to minor cleaning duties to keep the pristine castle spotless, chefs and servers prepared the evening’s meal with dutiful pride, and hidden away in one of the highest towers was one alicorn princess going through great efforts to unveil the mystery behind the disappearance of dozens of ponies.
Luna went through the five papers she took from the house of a mare named Lotsa Luv, trying to find a pattern where there might have been none. The sheets floated in front of her face as she rested front down on her bed, muzzle buried in her crossed arms as boredom took its toll. Luna had looked over words that she had studied for days, words so familiar to her that she almost didn’t need the pages at all. Names, dates, items that needed to be delivered and where they needed to be delivered to, but nothing that stood out to the alicorn more than the rest.
If only there was something buried in the pages that could point her toward the answer to Lotsa Luv’s disappearance, a canceled order, an unusually large order, even an address that was far out of the way to explain why she might have been gone for so long, but there was nothing. All the orders on the five sheets were completed, of the normal size for a flower and candy delivery service, and were within either walking distance or easily reached by the Equestrian railroad system. If anything Luna thought it was all too normal, but that might have been a leap to conclusions when presented with a brick wall.
The blue furred alicorn, as she stared at the papers passing through one after another for the umpteenth time, felt her eyelids droop down. Darkness enveloped her world for a split second, but then the surroundings of her room popped back into view. She couldn’t nod off, not yet. To do so would be to admit defeat for another day, and that would be another day that Lotsa Luv would go unfound. Luna would not abide the time wasted in rest, and so got up from her position to walk around.
She neatly stacked the papers in the grasp of her aura upon a table, let the glow of her horn fade, and stepped over to the fireplace. In matters of architecture, Luna’s room was the same as her sister’s, but the decor of the room varied vastly. It had been decorated by Celestia before Luna’s return as Nightmare Moon, made in preparation of their reunion as sisters and co-rulers of Equestria.
The walls were of a dark blue, replicating the color of the night sky. The ceiling was speckled with gems that twinkled like stars in the presence of magic. The archway that lead out to her balcony had large glass doors that were enchanted to block out noise, along with a set of full sized blinders to keep out the light so she could sleep soundly during the day. This had caused a problem in the past during a certain wedding, but it was necessary to allow the princess of the night to sleep through the noise and commotion that came with the activities of the daylight hours.
The last bits were some small trinkets that Celestia had used to give the room even more of a feel that it belonged to the pony who created the night sky. Small crystals and statuettes in the shape of crescent moons, thestrals in flight, and the old castle that resided in the Everfree Forest. While it was a little on the nose, Luna didn’t have the heart to alter a single thing that her sister had caringly created for her living space. Everything that Celestia had done to make her feel welcomed back after a thousand years was treasured by Luna, from the night themed decorations, to the small knick knacks.
Surprisingly little from the old castle residing in the Everfree Forest had been brought to Canterlot. Not even the library of books, as her bookshelf contained more recent editions of tomes from that time. What she did have from it though hung above the mantle of she fireplace, a painting of herself, her sister, and their mentor and friend, Starswirl The Bearded. It was a picture of better times, painted after the defeat of the villains Discord, Sombra, and Tirek, but before her own descent down the path of darkness.
Luna gave it a long glance and dwelled on time lost with the old and wise stallion during her exile in the moon. “You would have found all the missing ponies and declined the parade to be held in your honor by now, wouldn’t you?” she said aloud, using her horn to lift a coffee pot from inside the fireplace, along with a cup to pour its contents into. A quick levitation, a small tilt, and Luna had what she needed to stay awake for another hour at least.
The alicorn took a sip, and then a gulp of the blackish-brown liquid, taking in the taste of mocha and cinnamon. It was a bittersweet blend that she was fond of as of late, not really drinking that much of the substance before her private investigation into the missing ponies. It was silky, went down smooth, and piping hot from sitting above an open flame. The feeling of the liquid flowing to her stomach filled her with a pleasant warmth, and the flavor returned to her a bit of happiness that she had lost in her failed attempts to discover what had happened to Lotsa Luv. It wasn’t much, but it kept her going.
Taking drink after drink, Luna’s mind became more awake and aware, the powerful aroma of the unsweetened brew assisting in that matter. By the time she finished she felt capable of continuing her pursuit of answers, and with cup empty she set it down and picked up her papers once again. She was only able to give the first two pages a small flip before a knock at her chamber door interrupted her train of thought.
“Luna, are you awake in there?” Luna recognized her sister’s muffled voice, and became curious as to why she had come for a visit. It wasn’t often that Celestia troubled herself to walk the steps up to her tower, especially when a flight to the balcony would be easier.
Luna started for the door, but then remembered the pages in her hands. She still hadn’t told Celestia about her excursion to Hoofington, and didn’t intend to do so until she had some solid proof. She had gone against Celestia’s request to allow Twilight to covertly take care of the problem. She didn’t want to upset her older sibling, so she went over to her bed and slipped them in between her mattress and boxspring.
As the mattress fell down, the door opened. “Luna?” Celestia said, her horn sliding slowly into the room followed by the rest of her head.
Luna acted casual, turning her head towards her sister while stepping away from her bed. “Why sister, what brings thyself up to my chambers?”
Celestia stepped inside and took Luna’s lack of offense at her poking her head into the room as a sign of welcome. “I noticed that your blinds hadn’t been pulled down. It is far past your bedtime.”
“Dearest sister, I am the princess of the night. I make my own bedtimes, quite literally.”
Celestia giggled, amused by the younger alicorn’s jest. “Yes, but you are rarely up at this time, and I seem to recall the last time you stayed awake during the later hours of the morning you were so tired that the servants had to carry you to your bed. Took Kibitz hours to get everypony back up to schedule once they got you up here.”
Luna blushed a bit, reminded of how so many ponies fussed over her well-being in her exhausted state. It was the last time she would stay up for over twenty-four hours straight, as well as the last time she considered job as ruler during the day hours a simple task. “That was under different circumstances, and I’m more than capable of staying up past my normal sleeping hours.”
“With a bit of help it seems,” Celestia said sniffing the air, smiling as the scent filled her senses, “Most ponies don’t drink coffee this ‘late’, unless they have a reason to be awake.”
As usual Celestia was able to pick up on things quickly when something was amiss, seldom being wrong about these sort of things. Luna wasn’t found out yet though, “Truthfully… I’ve been worried lately.” It was no use to tell a lie or give an excuse about the reason she was awake, as once she had declined something as important as an invitation to Princess Cadence’s wedding due to need of rest, but a partial truth could make things easier, explain her concerns without saying that she was acting on them. “Those ponies, the ones unaccounted for, anything could be happening to them and I can’t do a thing to help.”
Celestia gave Luna a knowing look; it was not an easy task being a princess, especially in times such as these. One thousand years ago, when Equestria was still young and the two alicorns were just establishing their realm, the land was in turmoil. Evil creatures of great power ran rampant, laying claim to the lands and the ponies that resided in them. It was a time that required action, a time where the two sisters faced one foe after another, defeating them with a combination of their own power and the Elements of Harmony. That time was all Luna knew of leadership, that being the era that ended with her banishment, and it was hard for her to act any other way since she had never known a time of peace and prosperity.
The white alicorn grabbed Luna’s coffee pot and two cups with her magic, took a seat on Luna’s bed, and poured out a little for herself and her sister. “Luna, please sit.”
Luna was relieved when Celestia sat, as she had plopped herself directly above the sheets of paper she was hiding. With them placed snugly underneath her sibling’s royal rump it would prevent Celestia from stumbling across them and her firm mattress kept them from making crinkling noises under the weight. Luna took a seat next to her sister and took the cup handed to her once she was off her hooves.
“I know how hard it is to think that somewhere out there somepony is suffering. It’s something that weighs on the minds of all leaders, how to do what is best for their people and protect them from harm.”
Luna watched Celestia bring her cup to her lips and drink deeply, and likewise she took a sip. “I know where you are going with this. That even with our power we can’t solve every problem that comes along. That we need to pick and choose our battles, that sometimes we must let one thing go in order to protect what really matters. It just isn’t… fair.”
“Luna…” Celestia said, the wisdom of over one thousand years reflecting on her face, “Why would you ever think that?”
“Huh?” Luna was curious as to what Celestia meant by the odd statement. Even young foals knew the lesson she had spoke of.
Celestia took another sip from her cup, a smirk appearing when she removed it from her lips. “I would’ve thought by now you understood that nothing is impossible.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry little sister, I do understand what you are saying. As individuals we cannot be everywhere at once. Everyday I’m approached with a mountain of forms to sign, complaints from the citizens of Equestria, and other problems that I have to attend to, so I can’t deal with every single problem as it comes. That is why I trained a protege to help me manage things and take care of the issues I’m unable to do myself.”
Luna gave a nod, “Of course, Twilight Sparkle has proven to be a valuable ally.”
“Not only Twilight,” Celestia corrected, “But each of her friends as well. Each of them are able to do great things, and have done so on several occasions already. They might stumble and make mistakes from time to time, but I believe that the bond they share with one another will pull them through any situation.”
Luna, having finished her coffee, set her empty cup onto the blanket of her bed.This all sounded like the typical Celestia speech about how the magic of friendship would guide those that used it to good things. Luna knew first hand about the power that friendship held, but she also knew that it was a power that could be broken. That she and Celestia were no longer able to wield the Elements of Harmony was proof that it was possible to render it useless.
Celestia could sense Luna’s concerns, and followed up her thoughts by saying, “I know that, even with all the power in the world, there will be some things we still wouldn’t be able to solve. If something bad has happened to those that have vanished we would never be able to take that away, but we can work to make it better. What we cannot prevent, we can mend. It might take time, effort, and some careful planning, but I’m certain that there is nothing we can’t get through.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Luna, still unconvinced by the white alicorn’s overwhelming optimism. Celestia was the type who could be completely helpless, magic sapped from her body, and still look a foe in the eye with a smirk. Luna didn’t know if she could do the same, but it was that confidence that often inspired her.
Another knock came to the door, a little short of a bang against the ornate room divider. “Princess Celestia, you’ve used up the entirety of your breaks for today! We have to get back to the schedule, else you won't have enough time to approve the stack of zoning permits waiting for you to sign, then we have an art showing that you have to attend before lunch with Fancy Pants and Miss De Lis. After that you have to-”
“I’m coming Kibitz!” Celestia called to the door, taking a moment to finish off what remained in her cup, “A princess’ work is never done.” She pushed herself off the bed, and headed to the door to meet with her scheduling adviser. She stopped just short of turning the knob, procrastinating ever so slightly. It wouldn’t cause that much trouble to spend a few more seconds with her sister. “Luna…”
Luna had to pull her hand out from under her mattress in a flash, having thought Celestia was would simply leave. “Yes sister?” she asked, holding back her nervousness from almost being caught.
“I know that you care for every single pony in Equestria, just as a ruler should, but this problem needs a bit of subtlety in order to solve it. If you really wish to help, perform your duties and let Twilight do the investigating.” Celestia opened the door, revealing a white, grey maned unicorn stallion with a thick mustache looking mildly irritated at a pocket watch in his hands, tapping his hoof in a manner to express that they were losing precious seconds. “And please get some rest. It will let you take your mind off things, and perhaps allow you to look at this problem from a new perspective.”
The two white ponies walked down the spiral staircase leading back to the lower portion of the castle, Luna closed the door behind them as they got out of sight. No longer in fear that her sister might come back, she went to retrieve the sheets under her mattress without delay. They were just as she had left them, the third page being the one on top.
“One more time…” Luna said to herself, her determination dwindling, but still present. Her eyes rolled over each letter of the page more intensely than any of her previous times.
Name : Address | Order | Payment | Order Date | Delivery Date
The same the list told her nothing except that the business of spreading romance was profitable. Frustration building inside, she brought the final page to the forefront.
Name : Address | Order | Payment | Order Date | Delivery Date
Golden Locks: Manehatten, 533 Main Street | 12 Roses | 15 Bits | 07/01 | 07/02
“GRAAHH!!!” Luna’s irritation finally got the better of her. She tossed the papers into the air, making no effort to stop them from falling to the floor. She was just wasting time at this point, unable to garner anything from these names except that these ponies may or may not have had contact with Lotsa Luv a few days before her disappearance. If the alicorn could she would have brought each pony named in for individual interrogation, but that would draw too much attention from Celestia and if none of the ponies were the supposed kidnapper then it would be a warning to the real perpetrator.
Defeated, Luna slumped into her bed. She had reached a dead end before she’d even started, the lead she thought she had was just a fabrication of her own want to figure out what was going on. Whether the disappearance of this mare was foul play or of her own accord, Luna didn’t know and had no way of figuring out. At this rate sleep was the more valid option, and so Luna closed her eyes.
It took a while for the night princess’ consciousness to fade from the world around her, drifting quietly to a plane few could experience like she could. The darkness that the back of her eyelids created gradually became a vast blue space. Shrouds of clouds formed with, of lighter blue and purple, holding within them orbs of splendid light. Luna’s mind had transversed to “The Realm of Dreams”, a place where the subconsciouses of all living beings went to as they rested. Each point of light, in the shape of an orb and glimmering like a star in the night sky, was some creature’s dreamscape, a place where their slumbering thoughts were made manifest and vivid to the dreamer.
Looking around, she found a large cluster of these light orbs beneath her, converging together to make an almost solid looking mass. As few knew that the realm of dreams even existed, at least as something more than one’s own personal dreamscape, few would know what this formation was called, but Luna knew it as the “Dream Heart”. Here dreams were in such close proximity that Luna could go from one to another freely.
Around the Dream Heart, far off in the distance, were other dreams that had drifted far away. They were so far separated from the rest that Luna couldn’t reach most, and had no ability to enter them at all since when she came to this realm she always appeared close to the Dream Heart. Mostly they were they dreams of stallions and mares whose dreamscapes, for some reason unknown to Luna, moved away as they aged.
With nothing better to do, Luna dived into the Dream Heart. Flapping her wings, she flew through the sea of dreams as she looked for one to enter and occupy her time of rest. When this close to the orbs, the princess could easily tell who the dreams belonged to and what they were dreaming. During the day, there were very few orbs floating about, as most creatures were awake. The ones she saw now were those of nocturnal creatures such as herself; bats, opossums, owls, thestrals. During the night the Dream Heart was twice as thick, and the distant star-like shapes went from hundreds to millions.
The animals' dreams were amusing, as in many cases it gave a glimpse at animal life that a princess like her hardly got to see first-hand. There was one that made her worry a bit though, as she stumbled upon the dream of a familiar white rabbit. The rabbit was sitting on a throne, somehow with menacing presence despite his small and cute appearance, while ponies served him hand and foot.
“More carrots lord Angel bunny?” said an illusionary version of Fluttershy, wearing a modest maid’s outfit, as she held a bowl of carrots bigger than the rabbit itself before him. Other identifiable visages were present, in the form of other ponies that Luna had seen in Ponyville during her visit. A notable example was Rarity, who appeared when the rabbit took a carrot and extended his other jewelry covered paw over his throne’s arm.
The unicorn immediately came to his side, her body concealed in little more than rags that covered the necessary parts, and used a cloth not too far off from what she was wearing to polish the gems on his rings to an even brighter shine. Standing behind the throne was Applejack and a large red stallion she recognized from a festival in Ponyville, following the bunny’s chosen uniform for his lesser servants and waving large fans over him to keep the lapin lord cool and refreshed. Pinkie Pie was not too far from the rabbit’s seat, not in rags but instead dressed as a court jester as she performed hilarious acts for his entertainment. Twilight’s image didn’t join those of her fellow Elements of Harmony, though Luna had little doubt if she explored the dreamscape she would find one somewhere and wouldn’t be too satisfied in her fellow alicorn’s representation.
She had half a mind to enter the dream and teach the tiny creature a lesson in respect for other beings, but before she could another dream caught her eye. One of a young pegasus colt, floating not too far away from the bunny’s. Normally this would be nothing to deter the princess from enacting swift retribution, but a pony of his age didn’t usually sleep during the day. It peaked her curiosity, the colt’s distraught look and the light purple coloration of the orb adding in compelling her. She moved away from Angel’s dreamscape, giving it one last glare. It might have been fruitless since the rabbit had no way of knowing she was watching, but it made her feel better.
Entering the colt’s dream, Luna was greeted by a loud groan. The dreamscape appeared to be a classroom, filled with empty desks save for one in the middle of the room. The young pegasus, grey furred with a dark grey mane, stared dismayed at a small stack of papers in front of him. It was odd to see this, as the purple glow she had seen was an indication that this was a nightmare, and those tended to dramatize a pony’s inner turmoil. This was fairly underplayed, the young stallion was not being chased by some horrid monster or living out some terrible fear. Seeing that the dream was rather underwhelming, Luna decided not to make her usual dramatic entrance and approached the colt directly.
A tap on the shoulder alerted the colt to Luna’s presence and drew him away from the paper on his desk. “My little colt, what could be troubling you so much that such calm surroundings could be considered a nightmare?”
The colt wondered why he was dreaming about Princess Luna, but then things started to click. Scootaloo had not long ago spread stories about how Luna had the power to enter dreams and had used it to visit her during a camping trip. Some of his classmates, himself included, didn’t really believe the tale, but this seemed to confirm it.
But even if this was the real Luna, the colt didn’t have much to say to her. He looked to the floor, rubbed an arm in his hand, and remained uncomfortably silent.
“How about we start off small, what is your name?”
The colt lifted his head to meet Luna’s eyes, “Rumble…” he said meekly.
“Well then Rumble, thou art in the presence of royalty. That alone should be enough to grow a most splendid grin.” Luna allowed for a few seconds to pass for her stern, and almost demanding statement to settle, and then puffed out her cheeks, stuck out her tongue, and crossed her eyes. The sudden contrast from serious to silliness broke the boy’s coyness, a short snort coming out for the split second he was able to hold back before bursting out with laughter.
“There is that lovely smile I wanted to see.” said Luna, grabbing a seat and sitting down upon it in the opposite direction. It was a manner unbecoming of a princess, but children didn’t respond well to protocol and court etiquette. They needed to know that they were on the same level as an adult to open up to them, and sometimes that allowed for a few rules to be broken. “Now please, explain to me if you will what has you in such a gloomy mood.”
Rumble looked around, as if to make sure nothing else was listening in. “Well…” he took a deep breath, right before blurting out, “My grades have been really bad lately, my parents are really upset, my big brother’s not at home, I can’t go outside to play anymore and I think it’s all my fault!”
Luna went wide eyed. She had expected something big, at least in the eyes of a foal, but nothing like the avalanche of information she had been given. That the colt took the blame for it all in the end was upsetting, as there was no way one so young could be the source of so many woes. These were things certainly worthy of a nightmare, though the symbolic nature of the empty classroom still escaped her. She would have to fix this, but it would be a delicate matter. She had to approach the real problem, without immediately dismissing these fears. If she treated them like they were not substantial then she would only distance herself from Rumble.
“That is a heavy burden for one so young.” said Luna in an understanding tone, “Might I ask what you did to think this all lays squarely on your shoulders?”
Rumbles had a few tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to pour out but not quite able to do so. “I… I broke something that belonged to my brother, and… and…”
It was a common occurrence that children had problems recounting events, especially when it implicated them, but the dreamscape around them was already making up for his lack of words. The classroom was shifting to a the bedroom of an young adult stallion pegasus. The inspirational, educational posters were switched out for ones featuring sports teams. The desks replaced with a single one near a wall holding a few books and some personal knick knacks, and a large cloud bed took up a good majority of the room’s center.
Laying on the bed, in a position similar to what Luna was in earlier, was Rumble. The colt had a comic in his hands, Power Ponies, and seemed deeply enveloped in the book. His tail wagged side to side in excitement as he turned the page, Luna able to track what part of the book he was at by the angle of his irises. After a few more page turns, the colt went to the corner of the mattress, put his arms around a bedpost and dangled the book over the side, stretching it out as he rested his head on the side of the post so he could keep reading.
The real rumble watched a Luna’s side with a frown, he knew exactly where this was heading and he didn’t like it. He turned his head to the bedroom door, and Luna noticing him did the same. Before long the door flew open, a black stallion with blue striped hair coming in. “Rumble, you in here?”
The memory of Rumble got surprised by the sudden entrance, jumping slightly. The start was enough to make him fall off the side, hitting the cloud floor with his grip still firm on the comic as he fell.
“There you are, what are you doing in here. We need to get started on your home… work... “ Rumble’s brother went around the bed to reach his brother, and saw that the foal had his issue of Power Ponies #1, and that it was torn in two. Signs of confusion shown on the stallion, then grief, then anger. He did his best not to say something he would regret as his emotions built, but his face said what he didn’t.
“I’m sorry…” said the memory of Rumble, the real Rumble mimicking the words at the same time. His brother didn’t reply, just lifting his hand to silence the colt and walked out of the room. Rumble followed the stallion with the torn pages in hand. “I’m sorry! I’ll fix it! I promise!”
“Rumble, not now!” the older stallion yelled, the pleading of the colt pushing him past his limits. “Not… now… I need to go for a fly. Clear my head.” The stallion left out the front door, shutting it hard behind him. The colt stayed where he stood, looking at the door until a loud yell came from behind it, scaring him off.
The scene soon changed, two new adult pegasi appearing. A mare was walking around in a panic while a stallion sat at a table with a concerned look. “Where is he? He hasn’t been home for a week, he didn’t go to work, he’s not at a friend’s!”
“Calm down,” the stallion replied, “ He’s old enough to take care of himself. He’ll be safe.”
“But what if he’s in trouble, what if he’s…”
“He will be fine. We just need to wait and let the guards take care of this.”
The two pegasi discussed the situation back and forth, but something else was catching Luna’s attention. The sounds of sobbing coming from another room. She went to check on what it was, and found Rumble in his own room, crying over the torn comic book as he tried to put it back together with tape.
“See…” said the real Rumble with a sniffle, “I made him so mad that he left home. And no matter what I do he won’t come back. I even try to look for him, but mom and dad told me I have to stay inside. They grounded me because they found out about what I did.”
The whole scene looked terrible, but Luna felt there was more to it than what was to be seen. The brother’s actions were of anger, but restrained. In the situation stepping away from the colt was perhaps the mature thing to do, to not allow himself to lash out against the colt over an accident. Try telling that to a child though, especially one so filled with guilt. The parents didn’t seem angry either, and didn’t mention a thing about Rumble’s supposed involvement. He was probably less grounded than kept inside for his protection. The school was making more and more sense, as with what he was feeling he must have felt better away from the things that reminded him of incident; home, his parents, other ponies in general. Those sheets she saw before might of even been the comic, the thing that haunted to colt and what he thought would fix everything if it could be fixed.
“Rumble, do you mind if we return to when you tore the comic?” Luna wanted to know a bit more about what had happened, and she had a way of doing so, but she didn’t want to go back to a troubling place for the colt without Rumble’s permission. “Would that be ok?” Rumble shook his head, not really wanting to go back to his mistake.
Luna couldn’t really accept that answer though. It would be another brick wall, and after being unable to find the missing ponies another failure wouldn’t be good on her own self-esteem. She had the help this foal, for both his sake and hers. “Rumble, I want to go back in order to see if we could learn where your brother went. If we can do that then we can find him.”
That got the colt’s attention, “You… you really think you can find him?”
“I’m a princess Rumble, there is nothing I cannot do.” That was a lie, but many of the citizens liked to believe the princesses were capable of anything.
“Okay.. then we can go back.” said Rumble as he wiped a few tears from his eyes.
His permission, even if given because of false reasons, was all Luna needed. She lifted her hoof, stomped it down, and rewound the dream to before Rumble tore the comic. This time though, the two were in the living room, on the other side of the closed door to the room Rumble’s brother stayed in. The stallion was looking around for his brother, seemingly searching the rooms for Rumble.
Luna watched the stallion, taking in his every movement. Rumble hadn’t seen what his brother was doing at this time personally, but he didn’t have to. What creatures perceived with their own eyes and ears wasn’t the only thing that could be stored in memory, as they could stored much more in the subconscious of their minds. Sounds they couldn’t hear, things they couldn’t see, minute details that were normally ignored. Usually a pony would never have access to this information, but with Luna’s magic she could bring to light these hidden scenes.
The black stallion entered the room, Rumble fell off the bed, and then the stallion left the house in anger, all that remained the same. This time however, Luna followed after him with Rumble closely behind. The stallion didn’t get far, standing right outside the front door and staying there for a minute. At first he made motions to himself in silent, bringing his hands up before him, clutching at the air like he was strangling something. It wasn’t exactly the sight Luna was hoping for, and it strengthened Rumble’s fears.
That only lasted a moment though, as the black pegasus took a few deep breaths. “It’s not his fault… it’s not his fault.” he reasoned to himself, “You said he could look at your comic… you startled him when you went in. I just…” He let out a small yell, explaining what they heard earlier.
“See, he hated me so much that he ran off.” said Rumble, taking in only the bad details.
Luna shook her head, “I do not believe that is the case. Just watch, and see.”
The stallion pace a little and then reached into his pocket, pulling out a bunch of bits and counting it, “It was just a reprint, you can get another.” The stallion turned to go back inside, a look of sorrow for his bout of rage showing. Before he could grab the knob though, he stopped, “He’s probably upset… Give him time to get over it. Apologize to him after I get those chocolates I ordered for Cloudchaser.”
“Chocolates?” Luna asked aloud.
The stallion pulled out a slip from his bits, and looked it over. “Wasn’t supposed to be there for an hour, but couldn’t hurt to get there early.”
Luna rushed to his side and looked at the paper, but it was blank. She should have know better, the subconscious could retain a lot of information but it wasn’t so good as to get words off a paper that Rumble had not seen. The slip of paper was shoved back into the stallion’s pocket, and then he flew off. “One hour, that should be more than enough time.” He went out only a few feet before dissipating, reaching the outskirts of the subconscious’ perception. With the vision of Rumble’s brother gone, Luna looked back to him. The colt did look a little less uneased, but unsure of what exactly he saw.
“Rumble, did you hear that?” Asked the alicorn, hoping he got what he needed to hear out of that.
“I think so.” Rumble replied, “He said he wanted to apologize, that he didn’t blame me…. that he was coming back.”
“That’s right, and I believe that your brother intended to do just that. I think… something prevented him from returning.”
“You think he was kidnapped?!” the boy said shocked. That was a step up from running away. At least if he had left of his own accord there was the possibility that he could come back any day, but if someone had them then there was no way he could come back.
“Don’t you worry,” said Luna to comfort the colt, “I think the ponies of Canterlot might already be looking for the one who took your brother. It shouldn’t take long to find him.”
That seemed to brighten the young colt’s day, and with a flap of his wings he flew into Luna with a hug. “Thank you Princess Luna!”
The two ponies returned to the classroom, not much changing from before. Luna didn’t understand why it was still the same even after overcoming at least a portion of Rumble’s psychological trauma, but the colt looked happy as he went back to his seat. Luna followed him back, feeling there might be one last thing to take care of. Those sheets he had on the desk were still waiting, and if they were what she thought then she needed to take care of it.
“Rumble… you know that tearing the comic really wasn’t your fault. It was an accident that you could not have known would happen.”
“Oh I know,” said Rumble, sounding pretty sure about himself.
“You… do?” asked Luna, “Then what is all that on your desk?”
“This?” Rumble said pointing at the stack, “It’s my homework. My big brother usually helps me with it, but without him around I kinda… haven’t been finishing it.”
Luna was amazed, “Then this classroom is… are you in detention?”
“No, but I had to stay in during recess to do some of the stuff I didn’t do at home.”
“So you’re…”
“I kinda… sorta… fell asleep in the classroom.” Rumble put his hand to the back of his head and gave a large smile, accompanying it with a nervous grin. “Surprised Miss Cheerilee hasn’t woken me up yet.”
Luna put her hand to her face, now aware that she had unwittingly contributed to the delinquency of a minor. “Rumble…. you need to wake up and do your homework.”
“I know, I will, but… umm… with my big brother being kidnapped it’s really hard to concentrate on it.”
“That might be true, but this is your education at stake. One can’t leave their assignments unfinished.” When she finished speaking, Luna went quiet, turning away from away from the young colt looking at her. “Unfinished…”
“Something wrong?” asked Rumble.
“No, quite the opposite actually. At least I hope so.”
Rumble was going to inquire further, but the room suddenly shook and a voice resonated through it. “Rumble, wake up. Recess is over.” It was a kind, caring voice, one that Luna assumed it was the child’s teacher. She didn’t sound upset that the boy had fallen asleep when he was suppose to be doing his work, perhaps hearing about his troubles at home and taking pity on him.
Whatever the reason was, Luna had no time to think on it. Rumble had vanished, woken up from his nap, and that meant that she was in for a ride. She braced herself, covering her chest and tensing her muscles the best she could. A moment later she felt a heavy impact, knocking her with violent force through one of the walls of the classroom dreamscape. Next thing she knew, she was being thrown from the orb that she entered and back into the realm of dreams, forcibly ejected from the dream as its owner returned to the waking world. With her removed the orb faded from existence, just as any of the orbs would when the creature they belonged to was awake.
Luna, still tumbling from the blow she took, extended her wings to catch herself in the air. It took no time for her to stop her momentum, and when she slowed herself enough she began flapping her wings to keep herself from falling deeper into the realm. “I hate when that happens.” she commented to herself. It was never pleasant when someone’s link with their dreamscape was abruptly broken.
A little while after leaving Rumble’s dream, Luna awoke in her own room. She immediately removed herself from her bed, looking over the floor for the papers she tossed their. Gathering them up she looking over them one last time to confirm something. “The last page…” she said aloud, noticing something she didn’t before.”It only has seven entries.” The other pages had eight entries each, with no page appearing to be written on a specific date. It looked like Lotsa Luv simply kept adding entries and would jot down a new date as they came.
If that was the case, then perhaps the last person on the list was the last one the mare met before vanishing, and that could mean that person knew something about her whereabouts. Luna had to admit to herself that she was grasping at straws, but this was the closest thing she had to another lead. “It looks like I’m going to pay a visit to this…” She took one last look at the final entry, “Golden Locks.”
“Fuck, I didn’t think you’d knock him out. Aren’t royal guards suppose to exercise restraint?”
Slate slipped in and out of consciousness, finding it incredibly difficult to remember what had happened and why he had the most splitting headache he had ever felt in his life.
“Believe me, he deserves much worse than I gave him.”
Over time though, the jumbled up fragments in his mind came together. The feathery crystal pony he appropriated for his plans, the bar with the sexy slender femboy zebra he had targeted, the brief time he had enjoyed his two new playthings, and then the interruption of his perfect night by some unexpected guests.
“He looks like he’s in a lot of pain for an unconscious pony.”
Pain… Pain was a peculiarly interesting topic to focus on, a thing that all ponies had to experience in one way or another with varying results. Most found it to be an unpleasant feeling that ‘happened’ from time to time due to circumstances beyond their control. Others would try to avoid interacting with the sensation whenever possible, while a smaller few would actively pursue it and find it to be enjoyable in its own way. Of those three mindsets, Slate found himself furthest from the latter group. The splitting headache he was suffering helped immensely with that disposition.
“Come on, let’s get him a seat and make sure he doesn’t try anything stupid.”
Somepony once told the unicorn stallion that the brain had no ability to feel pain, that the sensations were only felt by the tissue surrounding the organ. If that pony was in front of him today, Slate would punch him in the nose for several reasons, but mostly for the agony that felt like it was going through the entirety of his skull.
“You think that’s gonna leave a scar?”
The ache was so awful that he refused to open his eyes, believing that any and all stimuli would aggravate and intensify it, the spikes brought on by the incoherent voices around him acted as proof to that thought. Darkness, and the reprieve that it brought, was the preferred option for the time being.
“I don’t give a damn about that. I just wish we didn’t have to wait for him to wake up.”
“He tried to control my mind. It was self defense!”
“That’s every guard’s excuse, and it’s just as right now as it always is.”
He recalled two thestrals, the pair that had cut in on his fun, specifically the one that had slammed her hoof into his left temple. He would have to thank her later for the sizable bump on his head in a way that would be fitting. What he couldn’t exactly remember was how they managed to break free of his spell.
Slate sat propped up for a long time, hardly moving aside for his breathing. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but the longer he waited the less it hurt until it became a soft, stinging sensation, not enough to make him pass out from agony, but just enough to deny him sleep. Still, he tried his best to remain motionless to give him more time behind his shut eyelids.
“Are you hoping this is all just a bad dream and it will all go away if you sit there long enough?” A male voice said from somewhere in front of him.
That was right, another unicorn got in the way. As powerful as Slate’s mind controlling magic was, it had some big issues when it had to contest with the magic of another unicorn. It simply didn’t work against them. He had tried it on several occasions, testing to see if he could overcome that flaw, but it was hurdle he was never able to get over.
“Come on, I noticed you moving ten minutes ago. You’re awake enough to talk,” sounded a male voice.
“Give him a minute Indigo,” spoke a female voice, “That kick might’ve given him a concussion.”
Slate could stall, delay this longer in vain hopes that something would come to aid him out of this situation, but that would be a terrible option. He had no friends that would come to save him if he got in trouble, he had always traveled alone and never kept any of his toys for longer than he needed to get what he wanted out of them. These ponies on the other hand appeared to be royal guard, the bat ponies alone reeking of Princess Luna’s Night Guard, and time seemed to be on their side if they were willing to sit there and wait on him.
“Fine… fine… I’m awake,” Slate said, opening one eye while keeping the one closest to his wound closed tight. Taking his first look at the world around him since being knocked out brought to a rude awakening when the messy haired unicorn was the first thing to grace his sight, along with his crystal mare and zebra.
Slate had actually expected that the two might still be around when awoke. Ponies did so enjoy delivering a final word to those they felt were at a lower moral tier to them, as though a good scolding and a lecture was all it took to cure the perpetrator of his misdeeds. What caught him off guard was how they were presented. Nothing had changed from when he had last seen them; they were both still naked, with the zebra still in his makeshift hood that Slate made for him.
The two had stationed themselves on either side of the other unicorn, down on their knees with their hands behind their heads. It pissed Slate off, almost more than the fact that he himself had been captured, that this other stallion sat in that armchair across from him with the ponies he had claimed and would probably get away with treating the same way he had just because of his position in the kingdom. If Slate wasn’t already aware that his arms and legs had been zip tied to the wooden chair he had been placed in, he would have dove at the other stallion and landed flat on his face.
“There we go. I knew you were made of sterner stuff than my associate believed.” The white purple-eyed stallion presumably called Indigo said, as he ran his hand through the mane of the crystal pegasus aside him. The girl gave a shiver at his touch, closing her eyes tightly with a few small squeaks escaping her.
Slate felt the sudden urge to levitate something heavy into Indigo’s face, but he couldn’t find the strength to do so. His magic, weak as he was, should have been enough to have tossed a few things around but, like most of the other parts of his body, it was being restricted. While he couldn’t see the object constricting his horn he knew, from the BDSM catalogs that he used to peruse for ideas of equipment to make, It was a magic negation ring. The royal guard would keep something like this on hand, must have made it easier when they arrested rowdy unicorns.
With no ability to move or cast spells, Slate relented. If an opening presented itself later, he would try for an escape. If not, then he had had a good run. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he lifted his head up and sat straight. “Good evening officer, I hope that my pets weren’t being too noisy.” Slate had no delusions that he would convince anyone that he was acting out an innocent bondage scene, but if he was going to be put in some cell somewhere then he was going there with as much smarm as he could muster.
Indigo was unimpressed, and ignored the unicorn’s statement to pull back his suit sleeve to look at a watch hidden underneath. Slate was about to play into his ploy, react where Indigo hadn’t, but before he could raise his voice Zunrai suddenly darted off to get away. He had almost gotten out of reach, but his beautifully braided mane became his own downfall when Indigo used his own unrestrained magic to grab the two rings at his mane’s end to halt the striped stallion. Indigo leaned to grab the rings in his hand and jerked him back into position.
“Got to say, while I like your taste in women, I hate your taste in men,” he said in frustration as he slipped the metal loops over his arm and tightly wrapped the long ropes of hair around his wrist to insure that another escape attempt would only be met with the removal of follicles from his skull. “He’s been squirming around like a damn worm since we pulled him from your room, won’t listen to a damn word I say.”
While Slate was growing increasingly annoyed that he wasn’t being talked to as much as he was being talked about, the other stallion’s words allowed him to piece together what was going on a bit more. Maybe he was still recovering from that blow to his head, but it took him a very long time to see what was plainly in front of him.
“Ok… let me try to work this all out here,” Slate said, forcing himself to think through his agony.
“Take your time,” Indigo replied, “We’re waiting on something anyways,”
Slate didn’t like the sound of that, interpreting it as there being more trouble on the way. He put it aside though, and gave his deductions of the situation. “You’re not part of the royal guard…. They wouldn’t treat the alleged victims of a crime so poorly.”
“Alleged? That’s an odd and, I have to say, stupid thing to say.”
“Not if you take in consideration the nature of my magic.”
“Which is?” Indigo inquired.
Slate gave the other unicorn a good laugh, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He did like the idea of keeping something the prick wanted away from him. “I have no reason to tell a fucking rapist like yourself.”
“Those are some strong words for somepony in your position. Answer me,” Indigo said softly as he reached into his suit to pull out a small container of toothpicks. He brought the holder to his mouth to pull out single tiny spear with his teeth, voice rising as he continued to speak, “Why do you think I’m a rapist? Explain so I know just how pissed off I should be.”
“My spell has worn off. They clearly don’t want to be here. Twinkle over there is just too timid and scared to make a break for it.”
“Twinkle? She told me her name was Wingshy.”
“Right, right, concussion. Point is that if you weren’t planning to do something with them, you would have came in like a knight like Shining Armor, took down the evil villain, and released them to go about their lives. So you at least have some diabolical ideas for them yourself, and that you have them on their knees, without clothing, means that you get some kind of thrill seeing them like that, else you would have given them something to wear at least.”
Indigo removed the toothpick in his mouth for a moment, casually observing it for a moment, “Not bad. You’re capable of pointing out the obvious.”
Slate didn’t react. At this point he could see what this stallion’s game was, taunting and poking to make him angry for his own amusement. He wouldn’t buy into it, and would give off as much bravado as he could muster. He would deny Indigo his satisfaction as the stallion had denied his, despite being in a poor position to do so.
“Enough of this.” A hand slapped down on the back of the seat Slate was bound to, and unease filled him as his whole body was tipped backwards, vertigo filling him as his seat balanced on its two back legs. It was pulled back so far that he went nearly horizontal, and above him was the unamused face of the white maned Violet. “Lady Tourmaline sent us to figure out how this bastard conducted his vile acts, and we did. I say we deal with him already and be done with it.”
“Deal with me?” Slate asked, “What is that supposed to mean? And who the fuck is this ‘Lady Tourmaline’?”
“You see Mr. Slate, or should I say ‘Smooth Moves’,” Indigo said, showing that he knew both the stallion’s real name and the alias that he had been going by, “We have been watching you for a long time.”
“‘We’? I suppose you mean you and your two little lackeys here,” Slate spat back. He turned his head to notice the other bat pony off in the kitchen digging through the fridge, and to finally determine from the ghastly tribal masks on the walls that they were still in Zunrai’s home.
“We are not his lackeys.” said the mare holding his seat, who pushed him back upright so roughly that it almost sent him sprawling forward before resting itself properly on all four legs.
“Don’t let him goad you Violet,” said Indigo, “He’s just trying to rile you up because he knows he can’t do shit.”
“Please, I could have gotten myself out this minutes ago,” announced the bound stallion, “The only reason I haven’t is for sheer sake of amusement. Listening to you simpletons bicker is humorous.”
An arm went around the back of Slate’s neck and dangled off one of his shoulders as a head went aside his own. He assumed it was Violet trying to intimidate him again, but when he turned his head he found that it wasn’t her. The other bat pony from the kitchen had decided to join in directly, a half eaten apple clenched in her mouth with her sharp fangs dug deep within. She chopped all the way through the fruit with ease and let the apple fall into her waiting palm.
“Look, we all get that you’re trying to pull off a tough guy act,” Amethyst said calmly as she looked at what was left of her appropriated meal, “But we also know that you have no way to escape. You’re tied to a chair, surrounded, and don’t even have the use of your magic. You are completely and absolutely helpless. So why don’t you just be a good boy, suck it up, and tell us what we want to know so we can go home before the sun rises.”
Slate rolled his eyes, “You’re just repeating what they said earlier, and I already gave them my answer.”
“I know,” the bat pony replied as she tossed her leftovers aside. With her hand now free, she sent it swiftly in between the stallion's legs to wrap her sharp claws around his crotch, “But I’m not as patient as they are, and have different ways of persuading you.”
Indigo tried to get up to stop Amethyst, but found himself still attached to Zunrai. With the resistant zebra preventing him from getting to Slate, the only recourse he could resort to was to say, “Remember, the boss said she didn’t want him hurt… that bad.”
“I remember, but if it comes to it I’m willing to take the blame. It’s not like he’ll die if I cut his balls off.”
The fingers near his privates began to close, and the claws at the end of them sliced through the fabric of his pants like scissors through paper. Slate knew it was a fear tactic, that it was all just to get him to squeal, but what he couldn’t be sure about was if it was legitimate. Torture was often a very valid method of prying information from somepony, and how Indigo was trying to stop her it seemed that he knew that this thestral would go through with it. Pain he could handle, to some degree. Loss of a body part, he could not.
“Ok, wait,” he spoke, maintaining his composure under the threat of dismemberment, “Perhaps we all got off on the wrong hoof here. If we could just calm down for a moment-”
“Oh, I’m calm.” replied Amethyst as her pointy fingertips drew ever closer.
“If we could all stay calm and start this conversation over like civilized ponies,” Slate reiterated, a bit more perturbed than before, “Then I’ll be more than willing to answer your questions.”
The bat mare stopped her advancing claws, and removed them completely. “See, I told you all I’d get him to talk first. Pay up.” Violet and Indigo let out a unified grumble, and Slate watched with blank expression as they both went on either side of Amethyst, the unicorn having the pull along the zebra attached to him, and pull out their coin purses so they could pour out a hefty sum of bits into the mare’s cupped waiting hands.
“You know that physical harm was against the rules,” Violet scolded the younger looking mare.
“Hey, I didn’t actually hurt him, “ Amethyst rebuked, “I just threatened to, and now he’s going to work with us. What more do you want?”
“Excuse me…” Slate said, a hint of anger in his voice, “Did you three take bets on who would get me to crack first!?”
“Sure did!” Amethyst answered unabashedly, “Don’t think I wouldn’t have sliced those balls from your body if you would have refused.” From behind her mound of gold, the bat mare’s gave a big, evil looking grin.
Out of immediate danger, and thus feeling a bit more confident about the future of his genitals, Slate gave the entire group a cold glare. He didn’t like being used as some form of amusement, toyed with and treated like his actions were so easily predictable. He especially bore a strong resentment for the mare that managed to get on over on him with her crude, but effective methods. He had only one title he could give a mare such as her, and he was unafraid to give it to her in the midst of this debacle. “Bitch.”
“Don’t be such a baby,” Indigo said as he walked back to the armchair, having to manhandle the now incredibly disgruntled zebra he was connected to in order to make it back. “You can own up to being beat, even if it is by somepony like her. In fact if you had done that from the get go, and didn’t try to fight everything, you could have been out of those bonds by now... and I’d be fifty bits richer.”
“What?” Slate replied.
“Though you might think otherwise, we’re not here to hurt you.” Indigo said as he shoved Zunrai back into his place, opposite from the crystal pegasus. “In fact, the only reason you’re as damaged as you are is because you tried to control and felt up my associates, and you’re only tied up because we don’t want another incident like that.”
“They entered this building without permission and started tossing around allegations-”
“Which were true.” Indigo interjected.
“And you didn’t expect me to panic and try to defend myself?”
“Of course I did, I didn’t expect you to feel them up with the door wide open.” Slate barely made out a upwards curl at the edges of the other stallion’s lips. “So Mr. Slate, let’s finish up here. Your magic: how does it work, what does it do, and who does it work on?”
“Those are awfully vague questions,” Slate stated, “But I guess they all just mean ‘explain your magic for us’. Fine, but when I’m done I want all this shit off me. The ties on my wrists feel like they’re starting to cut in.”
“That could happen, any objections girls?”
“Fine by me,” said Amethyst offhandedly, now counting her coins at a table, perhaps not even hearing what the question was.
“I’d rather just drag him into a cell, but I suppose that’s not an option,” Violet said.
“Then there you go.” Indigo assured. “Now talk.”
“Bleh,” He had probably put this off for longer than he needed to, but to give his attackers any kind of concession left a bad taste in his mouth. “To say it in terms you might understand, my magic affects the weak psyches of simple minded creatures. It alters their mindset to something more suitable to my wants through carefully calculated changes to get the results that I want. With it I can turn a backwater country bumpkin in into a demure pony of class and sophistication,” Slate turned his head towards Wingshy, giving her the most devious grin he could muster, “Or the most reserved and pure maiden into a rampant slut.”
The crystal mare whimpered loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, recoiling away from Slate’s line of sight and into Indigo’s waiting hand. “Don’t let him frighten you, he’s just trying to scare you, ” the unicorn said uncharacteristically softly as he gently stroked her hair to calm her. While she didn’t move away from the hand running through her mane, the mare only seemed to be more unnerved by the presence of it, something that Indigo either neglected to notice since he was focused on Slate, or didn’t care.
Violet, however, picked up on the pegasus’ distress, and decided it was time to step in. “Indigo, mind if a take the crystal pony over to the table and get her something to calm her nerves? She has been through a bit tonight, and she’s been very cooperative so far.”
“Yeah, go ahead,” Indigo said as he removed his hand from her head, keeping his eyes on Slate for the moment. “Better make it quick though, our friends should be here any moment.”
Violet offered her hand to the crystal mare, who took a few hesitant moments to accept the seemingly friendly gesture. With a gentle pull, Wingshy was brought to her hooves and lead into the kitchen. “Let’s make you a nice cup of tea. There has to be some in the kitchen somewhere.”
As she rose Indigo’s eyes shifted off Slate to Wingshy to watch her as she walked away, partly to see if she would make a break for it, partly to watch her cute rear wiggle as her glittery tail went side to side. He was pleasantly pleased to see that she not only refrained from trying to escape, but was following Violet’s gingerly given commands to the letter. From the moment Slate had captured them in his spell, Wingshy and Zunrai’s fates were sealed. The trio had rescued them both from a few days being Slate’s puppets, but they would now have to go to the Society. With her knack for obedience and delightfully timid nature, the crystal pegasus would be just fine after a few weeks… hopefully.
His mind at ease, he set his sights back on Slate. “Back to your magic. You sure you’re not giving your little spell more credit than it deserves. From what I’ve seen, all it does is makes ponies hornier and more receptive your creepy advances.”
“You tactless philistine,” spat Slate annoyed at being talked about in front of his face. “Just because I only use my magic to get what I want doesn’t mean that it isn’t capable of so much more. Give me a minute alone with some simpering coward, and I could make him the bravest pony in Equestria.”
“Until about an hour or so after they’re away from you.” Violet said, “We’ve been keeping track of your victims too, and while they show signs of your influence for some time after, they eventually revert to normal with no recollection of what happened to them.”
“Well… yes… It’s not permanent, but it makes them flexible enough to get what I want out of them. I can keep them that way for as long as I want, with replication of my spell, but eventually it will wear off and they forget everything.”
“And it doesn’t work against unicorns, am I right?”
“Right, it only works on the lesser races,” Slate replied quickly. Of course the stallion noticed a minor detail like that from their earlier confrontation. ”Pegasi, thestrals, earth ponies, and zebras from what I learned tonight. Ponies without magic, so if you take this blasted ring off my horn I wouldn’t be able to control you.”
Indigo took a moment to think through what he had heard compared to what he and his colleagues had seen. There weren’t too many discrepancies in Slate’s explanation when matched up with the evidence. “Ok, one last question. How many can you control at a time?”
“Excuse me? Why is that important?”
“Because you’re tied to a chair and I asked you,” the other stallion says curtly. “We’ve noticed you like to stick to one or two ponies at a time. We want to know if you can control more.”
Slate considered making up some arbitrary number off the top of his head, but then figured that would bring up more questions such as why he didn’t just take control of a town it the numbers were too high. He was one question away from release and he didn’t want to mess that up. “Three, that’s the maximum. After that my power drains too fast and I can’t keep a proper hold. Can I go now?”
Indigo gestured to Violet, who reluctantly went to cut off the zipties holding Slate in place. “We are letting you out of your chair, but we can’t let you leave just yet.”
Slate sighed, “Of course not. You wouldn’t be asking me all these questions about my abilities if you didn’t want to use them in some way.”
“Well, you’re half right,” Indigo placed the chewed up remains of his toothpick into one of his pockets, removed Zunrai’s braided mane from around his arm, and got out of his seat to ready himself in case Slate made a break for it, “We investigating you for your abilities, but there’s another reason we needed to grab you.”
“And what reason is- ACK! Watch it back there!” Slate jerked forward when he felt a blade slip between his two wrists, his disdain met with a light chuckle and the removal of the ties that bound him.
“You are being watched Mr. Moves, whether you realize it or not.” Indigo said, motioning to the purple thestral, “Violet here is part of the Royal Canterlot Lunar Guard.”
“So am I!” yelled Amethyst, not wanting to be left out.
“As is Amethyst, though that’s irrelevant. A while back Violet was in Baltimare and caught you casting your spell on a mare at a bar.”
“At first I thought you were a member that I didn’t know,” Violet commented, “But then when I went to talk to our leader, she said she didn’t know a thing about you.”
“A bar?” Slate said incredulously. “You might have to be more specific. Do you have any clue how many mares I’ve picked up in bars?”
“Irrelevant,” Indigo answered, “What’s important is that if Violet wasn’t already part of our group, then your actions would have attracted a lot of unwanted attention, for both of us.”
“So you want to get me to stop, is that it? You think that you do a better job at keeping your activities private, and that I’m going to get the guard at your necks, despite having at least two of them in your pocket already.” Slate had always assumed the Equestrian government was corrupt, but to find out that there were guards part of some sort of ring of rapists was delicious. It was the kind of thing that would be in newspapers for the next decade if ponies caught wind of it. “So is this your attempt to make me stop? To strong-arm me into quitting?”
“Actually, no,” said Indigo, “We were sent to find out if you were any use to us, and to offer you invitation into our organization.”
A smug look grew over Slate’s face, “And I assume you are impressed with the magic I wield.”
Indigo, Violet, and Amethyst exchanged looks, none of them too excited. “If anything, we’ve learned your magic is next to useless.”
“Huh?” Slate’s eye twitched, feeling more than a little insulted by that. How could they say mind control was useless?!
“It has no lasting impact, and any training done under the spell won’t stick. Sure, it can make ponies lustful and submissive, but we have far more effective ways of doing that already. The best and only use I can think of is make ponies fall easier into our traps.”
Being called near useless was irritating and entirely disrespectful. Not the worst insult he had ever received, but it was fairly high up there along with everything else done to him tonight. “Okay... but you still want me in this ‘organization’ of yours then?”
“We don’t,” answered Amethyst, “You’re kind of a jerk.”
“Too high and mighty,” Indigo added.
“And I heard that racist remark you said earlier about non-unicorn ponies,” Violet finished, “Personally, I would rather somepony like you never become part of the Society.”
Again with the insults. It was enough to have the three ponies now share the number two spot on his list of ponies he hated, which got him thinking that if this ‘Society’ they were part of were all the same, then he would take great pleasure in being the one to get them arrested and tried for their crimes.
“Unfortunately, it isn’t up to us.” Violet added, “Lady Tourmaline wants to include you in the Society, and we do have to abide by her wishes.”
“And who exactly is this Lady Tourmaline?” asked Slate, finding the gem related name and title to be incredibly pompous.
“You’ll meet soon enough,” said Indigo, “But before that we need to get you to the Society’s headquarters, and to do that we have to wait for-”
A sudden knock came to the door, three hard pounds that were repeated once before Amethyst dashed over. “I got it!”
“There they are, about damn time.” Indigo grumbled, taking the bound zebra by his braid rings once more before heading to the dining room where the meek crystal mare awaited at a table with a recently emptied tea cup. He dropped his voice before he spoke to her “Wingshy, we’re about to go on that trip I told you about before. Are you ready to be a brave girl for me?”
The crystal pegasus shook her head, tears starting to form in her eyes, “I don’t want to go, I want to go home.”
“Shhh…” Indigo shushed, as he bent toward her. With a firm yet careful grip took the mare by the arm and pulled her up from her seat, “You can’t go home now, but you’ll be alright. I’ll make sure that you get taken care of, and after this you’ll have a good owner to give you a good home.”
“Nnoooooo…” The mare sobbed, giving no actual resistance.
As the door came open, a variable flock of gryphons entered the home, some of whom carrying in several large boxes on dollies. “Canterlot Gryphon Delivery Service,” said one aloud, stepping into the scene with nary a batted eye at what was going on around him, “Are these the ones heading to Manehatten?”
The other gryphons didn’t wait for an answer as they got to work gathering up Wingshy and Zunrai, overpowering them with their gryphon strength and stinking syringes into their necks, injecting them with something that made them both incredibly woozy. Slate watched as the two ponies he had claimed for his own slipped into unconsciousness, going limp in the taloned hands of the gryphons, then were picked up and placed in the boxes like ripe fruit.
With those two out of the way, Indigo addressed the gryphon that spoke in a businesslike fashion. “Pinion, right? Thanks for coming at such short notice. We’re going to need this entire building cleaned, nothing left behind.”
The gryphon scoped the house, making a mental note of everything in it. “This is going to take the rest of the damn night....”
“It’s on the boss lady’s account, so you know you’ll get your bits with an extra tip,” the stallion said, going right for what gryphon’s loved most.
That made the gryphon a little less angry at the situation, “Okay crew, I want this place spotless before daybreak. Hustle up, get it done, and we all get a little extra coin in our pockets.” With the other gryphons now motivated, Pinion looked at Slate and used his eagle eyes to observe the unicorn. “This one looks like shit. You know the boss doesn’t like them bruised up, they don’t sell well. That gash on his head is not coming out of our pay.”
At that moment, the nature of this group finally hit Slate, the word ‘sell’ spelled it out for him. They were not a band of common rapists that went around using ponies and ditching them like himself, as he had been assuming. These were worse, these were slavers, ponies who captured ponies to keep and use till they had no further use for them. It was repugnant to the stallion, at least those he went after got to have a life afterwards.
“Look here,” he said to the gryphon, “I am not one of your pickups. These ponies came to recruit me for your Society, and I will appreciate it if you recognize that.”
Pinion smiled, “Why of course. Pardon me for making the mistake. That ring on your horn threw me off is all.”
“Don’t feed his ego,” Indigo said, turning his head back toward Slate with a scowl, “I mean, he’s right, but he’s a flight risk. He’s getting transported too.”
“Transported… hey wait one second. I’m not going with these filthy gryphons!” That was the last thing Slate got out of his mouth before a pair of gryphon’s took him by the arms, while another slipped a heavy leather band around his muzzle, clearly not appreciative of the unicorn’s opinions.
“Sorry Slate,” Indigo said as he pulled another toothpick from the container in his pocket and placed it in his mouth, “But we can’t let you see the location of headquarters till we know you can be trusted. So you’re going for another nap.” His scowl turned into a smirk. “Don’t worry though, when you wake up next, it’ll be in a much better position than this,” he said sarcastically.
Slate did his best to resist, but soon the sharp sting of a needle entered his jugular and a cool fluid forced it’s way into his bloodstream. He lashed out when he felt this, kicking and giving out muffled yells. Never in his life had he been treated this way, and as his vision slowly blurred, he made a promise to himself. When he got the opportunity he would figure out who was this ‘Lady Tourmaline’ was, and he would do everything in his power to bring her, and her Society, crumbling down.
For the longest time, all Blank Slate knew was a constant haze. Sometimes it was a shroud of pure darkness, other times there were brief glimpses of colors, but throughout all of this he knew that he wasn’t dreaming. Who could dream when their way of life was being threatened? When they were at the mercy of someone they didn’t know?
If Slate was more awake, more aware, capable of cognizant thought, he would scoff at such a question. Dreams had nothing to do with one’s own personal want to have them. They were a by product of one going into a deep enough rest that they achieved REM sleep, a trick of the mind that produced illusions to occupy the mind when nothing else was stimulating it. There were those in Slate’s field of expertise that would say that dreams were a result of pony going into so deep a trace that their psyche’s touched some psychic realm called “The Astral Plane”, but that was poppycock, a foal’s tale. There was no science or proof behind any of it, and the only reason anyone believed it was because Princess Celestia had spread that bit of propaganda centuries ago. As if the beloved matriarch wouldn’t spread that tidbit of information as a scare tactic to ensure everyone kept their thoughts pure.
Little by little, Slate started to realize that he was forming actual thoughts, that the void around him was fading. He was becoming able to focus on his own inner dialog again, and dig deep into the pile of ‘truths’ he had acquired over the years. He needed to delve deeper though, use another piece of psychological knowledge to really get his brain juices flowing.
What about that old debate he had on pony child rearing? How he believed that part of the reason that ponies grew up to assume the roles they chose as their “special talents” didn’t come from some mark on their ass, but because of peer pressure brought on by one’s mother and, primarily, father. To Slate, this was always the answer as to why there seemed to be no gender roles in Equestria; that it was just as likely to see a mare in the royal guard as it was to see a stallion as a daycare organizer. There was no standard in place that dictated what jobs were appropriate males or females, and instead were dictated by what the parents wanted from their children. Ponies were usually named after what was supposed to be their destinies, urged to follow those paths by their peers, seldom straying from the fates forced on them, leading them to into a cycle of blissfully unaware ponies who never understood how they would repeat the process with their own children by doing something like naming them…
Slate’s train of thought was broken as he regained the ability to feel sensations again, and became aware of a strange feeling breaking through his previous numbness. It came first as a small pattern of something going across his flesh. Where exactly was still a mystery, but could certainly feel skin being shifted as something pressed up against him. The feeling had the same effect as rubbing one’s arm would after resting on it till the point that it became numb, and got his blood flowing to aid in his recovery.
Before long, Slate could open his eyes and see more than just a blur of colors. He could make out the room he was in, elaborately decorated in Tapestries, paintings, and other such fineries. He could make out that he was laying on a plush bed that conformed to his figure, making him sink into it slightly as its incredibly soft mattress sacrificed firmness for comfort. He could feel that his wrists bore shackles, and that those shackles were looped around a bar that was part of the headboard behind him. Most importantly, he could see that his erect cock was what was receiving the attention he felt, being caressed by the tongue of a unicorn in a maid’s outfit.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” were the first words to leave his lips, outraged by what was happening. He was being raped. He didn’t give this mare permission to suck him off, and bound as he was, he could only perceive that his opinion on the matter wasn’t required. The mare was cute, having a short cut, chocolate mane, and fur that reminded him of evergreens, the kind of girl he’d have no problem throat fucking, but that didn’t make him any happier. The fact that he didn’t have full control of the situation, that somepony was playing with his body while he was bound and helpless, tore away any enjoyment he could have taken from having a cute girl licking his dick like a popsicle in summer.
The maid, being caught in the middle of one of their long tongue strokes, stopped their head in a position that allowed Slate a clear view of the back of her throat, as well as the heavy leather collar belt buckle collar she wore around her neck. From where she was, with her tongue resting just below the stallion’s flare, pressing down on his urethra, it looked like she was about to consume the sex organ. Instead, she pulled away, and daintily go up to her hooves.
“Apologies sir,” she said in a squeaky voice, “I was just cleaning you as the mistress ordered.” The maid bent down, and picked up a bucket and a rag. “But now that you’re awake, I’ll go get her for you.”
Slate snarled at the maid, it becoming clear to him that she was enjoying his unconscious body more than she was supposed to. It was grounds for giving the bitch a good beating for the audacity of it all, if only he could get up out of the bed. Instead, all he could do was lay and watch as she left the room with a seductive tail flick that was meant to entice him, but he chose to take it as further insult.
Once the door was shut, Slate started to move, seeing how stupid his captors were. Within the first seconds he found that his legs were not shackled. It would have been nice to know that before, he could have given that mare a kick to the face. For now though, he could just use the freedom given to him to figure a way out of his current predicament.
Pulling against his chains, the stallion lifted his legs up over his torso. Turning his arms in their sockets by rotating his torso, Slate placed his hooves on the headboard behind him. The links connecting the metal bands on his wrist felt sturdy, but he was willing to bet the wooden bar didn’t have the same durability. With his body curled up, his legs placed firmly on the backboard of the bed, Slate stretched his body out and pulled back on his bindings with all his might.
Unicorns might not be physically strong by nature, a trait Slate felt they more than made up for with the magical powers they inherently had, but one could easily do things beyond the limitations of their own strength with the right muscle usage. Pushing with his legs while pulling with his arms would more than double the power he could normally exert, and with that much force involved he hoped something would give before his wrists did.
The material was tough though, making him strain hard to make it so much as creak. “What the fuck is this shit, steel?” he said aloud, knowing well that the wood was not quite that strong, but as it was it might as well have been. However, he still felt that he could find a logical method for getting out of this, being the clever and intelligent unicorn he was. Obviously, he just needed a way to weaken the wood first, then he’d be able to snap the small post like a twig.
Keeping the chain taut, Slate shifted it to the part of the piece of wood that looked the thinnest. Next, he began pulling back with his left arm, while allowing his right to ease up ever so slightly with his right. When his right hand could touch the bar, he relaxed it and let his other arm have a turn at the work. He repeated this process, alternating which arm was the dominant one, in order to grind the links of his chain against the wood, and help to weaken its integrity. The links grinded against the wood, chipping through its polished finish, eventually getting through to do the same to the fibers the coating was protecting underneath.
With vigorous pace, he did this until the wear on the wood finally made the wood give way, snapping under the combination of damage and force. Once broken, Slate could finally remove the chain’s connection to the bed, and give himself the ability to do the same. Most ponies would have never had the ingenuity to escape such a situation, no matter how simple, but as a pony who took a heavy interest in bondage, Slate had put a lot of thought into how he would escape from being bound if he should ever be forced into it himself.
Now that he was partially freed, with the chain joining his wrists still intact, he got up out of the bed. He had to find a way out of… wherever he was. Everything was still a bit fuzzy when it came to that detail. He remembered the three ponies who had abducted him, and the gryphons who had carted him off in a box of all things, but as for where he had been taken, he didn’t have a clue. The only thing he had was the name of the person responsible; Schorl Tourmaline.
If he was given enough time, he was certain he would have been able to figure out a way to escape the room, but before he could even formulate a plan, he heard a knock at the door that the maid had left through. He had little doubt of who was on the other side, since the serving girl had expressed that she was going to fetch her mistress, and started to develop plans to simply strangle the bitch with his shackles.
However, that sentiment changed slightly when the knock came again, and a voice came from behind the door saying, “Is it alright to come in?” The courtesy confused Slate, as a man in the position he was in would have been given none. “Did you manage to find the key?”
“Key?” Slate questioned, looking around to see what the voice, which he assumed belonged to this ‘Schorl’, was talking about. He found what he looking for on a nightstand next to the bed, a small silver key that laid there within sight of where he had laid. There was no way his bound hands could have reached it though, so he didn’t understand how this woman expected him to reach it with his horn…
Slate reached up and touched his horn, only to find that he no longer had that accursed ring on it. He had assumed that they wouldn’t have taken it off him, but if he had just been a little more observant he could have saved himself some time. Taking the key from the table, he quickly removed his shackles, and placed both objects down where the key had laid.
Having everything that restricted his movements removed quelled Slate’s anger ever so slightly. Not enough to make him feel any form of gratitude or sympathy towards the person who had dragged him to wherever it was he was being detained at the moment, but enough to let him rationalize the circumstances he had be thrust into. He had been brought here against his will, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was in danger. In fact, if he were in danger, odds are that he wouldn’t have been given such an easy means of escaping his bonds. So clearly, this woman wanted to talk, maybe strike a deal, and as long as he played ball, she wouldn’t have a reason to keep him.
Not having been given a reply to her first two knocks, a third one followed, along with the words “I’m coming in.”
“Come in,” Slate replied. He had been silent long enough, and this confrontation was unavoidable. All he could do was stand up tall, stay composed, and find out what this bitch wanted so he could move on with his life.
The door opened, and in walked three figures. The first one to enter the room gave him pause, legitimately stunning the stallion for the first time in a long time. “Well, don’t we have a fine specimen here?” said Slate with a smile, enjoying his pleasant surprise.
He had no doubt at this point that this mare was the “Schorl Tourmaline” he had heard about. She had a striking presence with her shimmering purple fur, and her blue mane that likewise glimmered in the light. A crystal pony was a wonderful thing to gaze upon, and this one was fairly attractive, if perhaps a little short. What really caught his interest though was the horn on her head, which was more remarkable than anything else about her. Crystal unicorn’s were rare, as in ‘completely unheard of’, and so seeing one in person was remarkable, especially to a stallion who had an interest in breeding.
If he had known of such a mare beforehand, he would have hunted her down and found a way to impregnate her with his seed, immunity to his mind-altering spell be damned. It’s not like the evening gown that she was wearing, which was of a slightly darker shade of purple that she was and allowed viewers to see all her delightful curves, didn’t scream to be to be ripped off and used as rope to tie up the cunt. For a stallion like Slate, she was practically begging to be raped, if she would even consider it that.
However, as much as he wanted to fuck the mare on the spot, the minotaur following in behind her had him having second thoughts in an instance. Being the leader of this little slave ring, Schorl had to believe she was the brains of the entire operation, and when you assume such a thing you usually had power to back that up. If not your own, then someone else’s. Minotaur were creatures that, without a doubt, possessed that kind of power, outmatching even earth ponies in raw strength. The minotaur could tear Slate in half in the blink of an eye if he felt like it, perhaps literally, and though Slate felt that the non-magical creature could be incredibly subjectable to his magic, the combination of the two meant that he was better off not trying anything he didn’t already know the results for ahead of time.
Last into the room was the maid from before, who had carried in with her a pressed and folded suit, the one he had been wearing when he was abducted. He would have had to be completely oblivious to not notice that he was naked while laying on the bed, but at the time he had bigger concerns. The maid walked over to him and presented the articles of clothing, of which he snatched out of her hands, quickly wrinkling them in his aggression.
“I’m glad to see you are awake, Mr. Slate.” The crystal unicorn started in a polite and formal tone, “I’m sure you are confused, the circumstances of your arrival here not exactly hospitable. I am willing to explain any questions you might have and provide you with… most comforts you might want to make your continued stay here pleasant, but first allow me to introduce myself. I am-”
“I know who you are, ‘Schorl Tourmaline’.” Slate interjected, putting on his pants, “One of your underlings let it slip when I was tied up.”
“But Mr. Slate,” Schorl said, snapping her fingers, the maid responding to it by bringing her mistress a chair so she could sit, “You can hardly know a pony just by their name. Look at yourself for instance. You’ve disguised yourself with so many names that no one you talk to ever has a chance to meet the real you.”
Slipping into his jacket, Slate glared at the mare. “And what about yourself? A mare like you should have been national news, and yet I you’ve managed to stay hidden and out of the public eye.”
Schorl thought a moment on Slate’s comment, but then answered him by saying “Should I really be known about more than other crystal ponies?” Crossing her legs, Schorl used the one that had laid on top to rest her elbow on, so that she could lean forward and use her hand as a chin rest. “You have to realize, my particular race of ponies has only recently came back to Equestria with the return of the Crystal Empire. While I might agree that the birth of a crystal unicorn would bring about a lot of attention, even the most momentous news eventually gets pushed so far back into the annals of history that no one bothers to remember it, and major details can become forgotten or mistaken. Ponies tend to forget that every mare, stallion, and foal from the Crystal Empire is technically over one thousand years old. In fact, what I find more amazing by comparison is the fact that a pony such as yourself can just disappear overnight.”
“What do you mean?” asked Slate, finishing up his suit by tightening his tie around his neck.
“We, and by we I mean me and my associates in the Society, have looked into your past a bit, to discover who you are and where you come from. I mean, most ponies of this age have at least heard of the esteemed psychologist Pon Locke.”
That name touched more than a few sore spots with Slate, but now properly dressed, and in no immediate harm, he kept his cool, “You did do some digging in order to have found that. Please don’t mention that name around me though. I like to distance myself from that stallion as much as possible, and have been very successful at it up until right now.”
“As you wish,” Schorl conceded, “But your pedigree makes your current way of living very confusing. Drifting from town to town, no home to call your own, resorting to invading the housings of others so you don’t have to sleep out in the cold.”
“It’s a lifestyle I chose to do, I assure you.” Slate stated sternly, “Why should I have to lift a finger when I can have others provide for me.”
Schorl smirked, “That was exactly the kind of attitude I was hoping to hear from you.”
“I bet it is,” Slate said in a blase manner, “I know you want my talents for the slavery operation you got going, and personally, it offends me that you think that I’d want to comply with you after chaining me to a bed so your pet slut could suck my dick dry.”
Schorl’s eyes widened, and then she turned her head to her maid. “... The chains were just a precautionary measure in case you panic when you awoke, as we didn’t want you to break something or attack anyone. We did not, however, give permission for Trendy here to touch your body in any other manner save for cleaning it. It seems she decided to use her own interpretation of what that meant.”
The unicorn maid gave a sheepish smile, and took a step backwards away from Schorl, only to have the minotaur come up from behind and push her back forward. “I… just assumed-”
“A servant does not assume anything,” Schorl stated, raising out of her chair, “And I believe we both know this was no accident, now do we?”
Trendy's eyes drifted to the floor, submitting to the crystal unicorn’s authority. There was little reason to deny the truth now that her mistress had rose from her seat, having already decided on what she was going to do with the girl. “Yes mistress… I overstepped my bounds.”
“Then go to the wall and take your position.” Schorl said sternly, already heading to a spot on the wall closest to Slate. The maid did as she was told, following her mistress, and placing her hands on either side of one of the tapestries decorating the room.
Once braced, the unicorn moved her legs back bit by bit, causing her to bend further forward with each new step. The more she leaned over, the more she revealed her panties and shapely rear, and the more she spread her legs to allow better access to all her parts below the waist. Soon, the maid’s upper torso was parallel to the floor, with her tail sticking up and to the side, with only her arms supporting her from falling over.
“Mr. Slate, I do apologize for the violation on your person,” Schorl said as she stepped up to the precariously positioned pony, ”And intend to make up for it in due time, but this does present me an opportunity to explain what this organization is all about.”
“It’s a pony trafficking ring, what’s to explain?” Slate asked, having read stories about such things in the past. Most of which were erotic interpretations of such scenarios, but Slate believed he was smart enough to separate the romanticized parts from the reality of such a situation.
“That is where most of our new members are mistaken.” Schorl replied, rubbing the inner thighs of her maid, causing her to terrible as Schorl built teased her body. “We are not strictly an organization that enslaves ponies for profit. I assure you, there is money changing hands between transactions, but all proceeds are used to ensure that our patrons can have the comfort and quality of service they deserve. When it comes down to it, the ‘Equestrian Trainers’ Society’ is completely non-profit.”
“Of course,” Slate said with a short roll of his eyes, “And I suppose that brick house of beef over there works for you out of the goodness of his heart.”
“Sartek is given a decent wage for his services, but he is part of what the Society offers its members. Having a minotaur, or a few dozen of them to to be precise, act as security gives lot of ponies’ the peace of mind they need to pursue their desires. To allow them to be their ‘true selves’.”
Slate watched as the crystal unicorn went from rubbing the legs of her maid, to fondling with her crotch, noting how the meeker mare’s thick vagina lips seemed to bulge out a bit from its cloth covering. As Schorl pressed an index and middle finger against the maid’s privates, Slate chose to ignore the titillating scene to pry further into the crystal unicorn’s nonsense.
“‘True self’? That sounds like some sort of cultish garbage to me.”
Schorl gave a light chuckle to the statement, “Yes, I have heard that before. From other potential members who didn’t understand what I was doing. However, with your… background, I think you might be able to understand what I’m trying to do, once explained.”
“Then explain.” Slate was starting to get fed up with Schorl’s crypticism. It was not nearly as attractive a quality as he assumed she thought it was.
“Mr. Slate, have you ever felt that ponies are not being very honest about how they feel or who they are?” Schorl’s hand creeped up to the waistband of Trendy’s panties, “That deep down inside, most are hiding something from the rest of the world, or that they are only trying to live up to societal standards that keep them from doing what they feel is pleasurable, for fear of poor public opinion?”
“Well sure,” Slate agreed, “Most ponies have some skeletons in their closest when it comes to certain urges or desires. It’s just pony nature.”
“Well the Society is a place where those ponies can explore those perverse desires without worry of reprisal. You see, it is of my opinion that most, if not all, sentient creatures fall into one of two categories, either submissive or dominant. However, while there are many ponies out there who would love to express this openly, there are systems in place that prevent them from doing so.”
“And that’s where you come in, I take it… You cater to these ‘dominant’ ponies, who just so happen to be some of the richest Equestria has to offer, and get them whoever they want to be their ‘submissive’, even if that pony has no submissive qualities at all.” It was not hard for Slate to read Schorl’s motivations, since no pony would do something as dangerous as this without benefiting from it.
“Everyone has submissive qualities,” Schorl said without hesitation, still playing with the waistband of the maid’s underwear, “And yes, for some it is harder to show them that they would be happier as a submissive, but I have yet to come across a pony who didn’t learn their place in life. Take my Trendy for instance…” Schorl suddenly pulled down on the band, revealing not only the bare flesh and fur beneath, but a few other things it was hiding.
Embedded inside the maid’s plump rump was an object of some sort, either a dildo or a plug, with the end sticking out just enough that it couldn’t be seen from behind the panties she had been wearing. Slate of course had experience with such objects, with most mares having one or two around to pleasure themselves with when they found themselves lacking a stallion to do that job for them. However, the other thing that the undergarments hid was much more surprising for the stallion, as the maid was not what ‘she’ appeared to be at first glance.
This ‘mare’, despite their feminine features, was a stallion. The small bulge in her crotch was not that of a vaginal mound, but of this pony’s dick and balls, both bound within a metal container that caged it up. The device wrapped around the private parts tightly, and looked to grant the appendage no room to stretch out. Even as he continued to look at the device, he could see that the dolled up stallion’s cockhead was trying it’s best to push against the cage so it could allow the rest of his sexual organ to be released from its equine sheath, and failing miserably.
Slate was taken aback by this. Not because of the maid being a male the whole time. He actually had a thing for guys dressing up like girls, and had experimented with crossdressing guys he put under his spell in the past. He was just completely shocked that he didn’t figure it out before the reveal. Trendy had the telltale lumps in his blouse that normally indicated breasts, now obviously some form of padding just to give him the appearance, and the collar on his neck covered up the adam’s apple that would have otherwise shot up flares about his true gender. Slate could feel his face turn red against his volition, and he hated that the facade was good enough to escape his critical eye.
Schorl either didn’t notice Slate’s embarrassment, or simply didn’t care, and just went on with her train of thought. “Trendy here, as you can see, is a stallion by birth, and for most of his life, he has acted as such. However, when he was brought to the Society for one of our slave auctions, I noticed that he was defiant, fighting every step of the way, even though he had a strong submissive nature about him.”
“H-how did you know he had a submissive nature if he was disobeying you?” Slate asked as he turned, covering his face, more wanting to keep attention away from himself than actually being curious about the colt.
“Trust me, I know these things,” Schorl placed her finger at the side of the rod sticking out of Trendy, lightly touching his anal ring. The girlish stallion’s body tensed up, his face contorting at the touch of his mistress, and begun to squirm slightly as she traced the stuffed entrance to his anus in a counterclockwise circle. “That is not the point though. The point is that I decided to take in Trendy as my own slave and show him the happiness there can be had in submission. It took some time, and effort, but eventually I stumbled across his weakness… a desire to be a mare.”
“I see... “ said Slate, knowing this psychological condition, “Transsexuality. A mental disorder where ponies identify themselves as the opposite gender.”
Schorl gave Slate a sideways glare, for the first time looking legitimately offended in what Slate had to say. “It is not a disorder,” she decided to correct, “‘Disorder’ implies there is something wrong with Trendy, but I wouldn’t have my little maid any other way.”
“T-T-Thank you mistress.” said Trendy to the crystal mare’s compliment.
“You’re welcome,” Schorl replied, “But remember, this is supposed to be a punishment.” Moving her finger off the side of Trendy’s toy, Schorl placed it on the flat part of the object’s bottom part, hitting it dead center. A circular section of it pressed inward, and a loud whirring could be heard coming from inside Trendy’s body, almost like several turning mechanisms were going off at the same time.
Whatever was going on, Trendy could no longer contain himself. His head lifted upwards until his muzzle was pointed upwards at a diagonal angle, and his irises and pupils did what they could to disappear behind his upper eyelid, making it about a third of the way into them before the orbs couldn’t roll up any further. The sensations were so strong that simply propping themselves no longer cut it, so Trendy resorted to latching onto the drapes in front of him to keep from succumbing to the involuntary bending of knee and elbow joints while he endured the feelings of intense anal pleasure.
“Getting back to our story,” Schorl said, keeping her finger on the button, “I started using this weakness of Trendy’s as a method of training, dressing him as a girl at all times and parading him about my facility until he became comfortable with his new role. The more he got acclimated to his feminine side, the more timid and obedient he became, no longer having to act out what he believed was expected of him as a male.”
“Well, congratulations,” Slate said sarcastically, “You turned one of the guys into one of the girls. What does that have to do with me?”
Removing her hand from Trendy’s backside, Schorl allowed the stallion to be at ease and slump down to the floor. “I’m am only trying to explain how my organization can be mutually beneficial for all parties. Trendy came in completely against our ways and methods, but has now come to embrace the freedom I have given him as my slave. Can you not appreciate that?”
“Do you think I give a damn about some brainwashed femboy?” Slate said bluntly, “The only thing I care about is what benefits me. Instead of trying to appeal to… whatever it is you think this story of yours would appeal to, you should have just gotten to the point where this involves me.”
Schorl brow furrowed slightly, and for a split second Slate could have sworn he saw her eyes reflect some sort of glow off of them. “I see that now…” She said with a bit of disconcern, “Perhaps you are right, this is unprofessional of me. Let’s get down to business then.”
“Finally.” Slate sat down on his bed, crossing his legs, “What do you want, and what do I get in return?”
“What I want is for you to be a member of the Society, and to follow the rules and regulations set forth for it. We don’t exactly mind that you go about turning ponies into your mind puppets, so much as how noticeable you make yourself when you do it. We can’t have ponies waking up after days at your command to find that they remember nothing of the time, or that they have a lot less money or food in their homes than they remember. It draws attention, makes ponies suspicious, and it could lead ponies to us.”
“So I play along by your rules… and…”
“And you don’t get put in a cage.” Schorl said frankly, “That… and you will be able to share in the amenities that the Society has to offer. Fine food and drink, comfortable lodging, endless entertainment, use of our facilities and items within it, and our services as slave trainers to allow you to keep slaves for more than a week’s time.”
“I don’t need any long term slaves,” Slate replied, “I don’t need attachments and I’m more of a ‘love’em and leave’em’ kind of guy.”
“Then I’m sorry to inform you that it’s mandatory that you have at least one submissive serving under you if you’re to be considered a member, since part of the Society’s objective is to have responsible members of the pony caste take care of and support those less fortunate than themselves. Don’t worry though, we already have a slave picked out for you, and one we feel you will enjoy taking care of.”
“Oh joy…” said Slate, making it clear he had no enthusiasm for this burden that was being forced upon him.
“Sorry, but we at the Society feel that a loving, obedient sub acts as a counterbalance to a dominant spirit.”
“So as long I’m an obedient pony for you, you’ll let me do as I please? What separates me from the maid?” Slate said as he pointed to the stallion trembling on his knees in euphoria.
“You won’t be wearing a collar,” Schorl said back, going silent for a few seconds to let that sink in, “But let’s put hostilities aside for the time being. I think we both need time to cool our heads a little, so I’ll give you some space and let you contemplate what I have to offer. You’ll have to stay here though as you do, since I can’t trust you enough yet to allow you to wander the halls.”
Schorl turned to her minotaur bodyguard, and knelt down to take Trendy by the collar before heading to the door. Slate watched both unicorns as they left, taking in the view of their backsides as they made their way out. How he wished he could have met the two in a more advantageous situation. His mind was just racing with ideas of how he’d violate the both of them had he have had the upper hand. The expression on his face was somewhere between a sly grin, and a goofy one, and was noticed by the minotaur who had opened the door for his employer and her pet.
“Hey.” Sartek said, looked square at the stallion, “Try to do something with Schorl, and I’ll stick you in a box and let your ass get reemed for the rest of your life.”
“Perish the thought,” Slate said, “I wouldn’t do anything to harm a working man’s paycheck.”
The minotaur snorted and exited the room, allowing the door to slowly creak closed behind him. With all other parties vacated from the room, Slate fell backwards onto the soft mattress he was sitting on.
Good work Slate. He thought to himself with a smile, You played it up nice and thick, and got the bitch steamed in the process.
Slate believed that the conversation had gone well enough. He could have been more polite, or hospitable, but it would have come off odd if he had. He had been beaten, abducted, and given an ultimatum to shape up or be shipped out. Certainly he would have to be pissed after all that, and anything else would come off as disingenuous.
So now that he had his first encounter with the bitch who brought his hedonistic life to a screeching halt, he could now begin plotting on how to bring her down. Contrary to what Schorl believed, it was her group that was going to bring too much attention to his activities, and not the other way around. After all, he had been raping ponies for years, and never had been caught until now. He was going to have to do something to deal with this issue, and maybe if he played his cards right, he’d be able to fill the crystal mare’s womb with his seed before she was sent off to tartarus for the rest of her natural life. For now though, he needed to wait until an opportunity arose.
It’s all just a matter of time, he told himself, It’s not like a mare like her can outsmart me.
“Oh, and Mr. Slate,” Schorl said, sticking her head back into the room just before the door closed on its own, “I have here some information that you might want to look over, since you’ll have some free time before I speak with you again.” The crystal mare placed two items on the floor, and then slipped out the door, a loud ‘click’ easily heard after the door closed completely.
Reluctantly, Slate arose from his bed to look at what Schorl had left him. There were two items, a large book and a small pamphlet. The book was placed on top of the folded piece of paper, clearly meant to be read first, thus Slate picked it up skimmed the pages. The book, as thick as a small encyclopedia volume, was filled with rules, regulations, and general guidelines about proper conduct, discretion, and responsibilities each member was suppose to uphold, amongst other things. Being that it was a book of ‘dos’ and ‘don’ts’, it held little of Slate’s interest, so he tossed it aside.
The pamphlet, however, held much more enticing information. Inside were images of crystal clear pools, elaborately decorated dining areas with open bars that served fine wine and other forms of high class alcohol, rooms that a member could rent out that had an air of luxury to them that would rival a guest room in Canterlot Castle, and of course many submissive ponies from all around Equestria that in revealing outfit meant to entice.
What really caught his eye were not the bits of eye candy though, but a page that featured images and descriptions of areas that appeared to be rooms in the facility used as torture dungeons and rape rooms. The depictions of mares and stallions being strapped into tight, painful bondage that stretched the limits of the pony body, the variety of tools and toys they had available for use, the idea of having a place where one could let loose their inner sadist… it was all very alluring to a pony who fantasized having access to such things near consistently.
“It wouldn’t hurt to at least try out some of these things before I leave,” Slate said closing the folded paper, looking at the front of it, ready to read the whole thing front to back in order to take in every detail of what Schorl was presenting to him in a vain attempt to win him over. On the front cover was written only four words, printed in an elegant, bold font placed on a dark purple background.
Slate scrolled over the piece of reading material given to him, scanning the pages with great scrutiny.
“This is interesting…” he grumbled aloud, flipping a page of his paper back book while leaning back in his seat.
A few days had passed since he had spoken to the prestigious leader of ‘The Society’, and ever since he had been confined to his guest room, trapped within its four wall as if it were a prison cell. No matter how luxurious his accommodations, no matter how delectable the food or pleasant the company, he couldn’t suffer the fact that he being held against his will.
Things weren’t ‘horrible’, just immensely dull. One with the patience of a mountain would be able to feel it erode in the face of such tedium, wherein all they had to do was eat, sleep, use the restroom, and copulate with the scores of brainwashed bimbos and sniveling submissives that were sent to keep him entertained.
He lasted little over a single day before cabin fever started to take hold, and he was demanding his captors brought him something to better occupy his time. Schorl complied with the demand in the form of a stack of books. One large enough to keep the most well read pony in Equestria distracted for a longer time than they could accurately determine. This appealed to his more scholarly nature, but he quickly discovered a common, demoralizing theme with the volumes. What could have been hours of cerebral stimulation turned into mere minutes of mental mediocrity.
Slate let out a scoff as he came to particularly outlandish part of his novel. “As if a stallion could be sent into climax by beating their balls with a piece of wood.” His disgust told him to close the book then and there, the inaccuracy of how anatomy reacted to pain offending him, as did the off putting depiction of ‘slave/master’ relations. Despite his qualms, he continued on, but not out of perverted pursuits.
The other books given to him were of a similar level of garbage. Trashy tales of princesses at the mercy of dark and dashing alpha males with terrible ideals of how to treat the population of the kingdoms they stole from their rightful rulers. Tribes of savage creatures coming in from foreign lands, convincing ponies to submit to them as sex slaves and servants with little to no opposition to their conquest. And course, issue after issue of stories featuring some rich snob turning one of their serving staff, or some peasant off the street, into objects of their desire. So many written works of domination and submission, where individuals were trained and taught that they were not capable of functioning like normal ponies, but instead needed the direct attention of a mistress or a master to hold their hands and walk them through life. As a pony with some background in psychology who could tell the amount of bullocks put into these endless scribblings, the notion angered more than aroused him.
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand. He knew perfectly that these bits of tripe were made to bemuse the lowest common denominator. Ideas romanticized until any sort of realism were completely removed, but that was what bothered him so much. Why would Schorl give somepony like him such dreck. This was the kind of stuff horny, vulnerable housewives read to pass the time while their husbands were away at work, not the kind of thing for his intelligent mind to dwell upon. It seemed that the crystal mare wanted him in a certain frame of thought, but he wasn’t going to be so easily brainwashed to her whims.
The only reason he was continuing on with the book in his hand, a piece of erotica about a slender, shapely stallion being kidnapped and shipped off to Saddle Arabia through a pony trafficking ring, was because the book was written in the script of the setting it took place in. He didn’t care as much for the adventures of the earth pony as he was transformed from mild mannered male to his mistress’ masochistic exotic dancer, so much as he enjoyed deciphering the chicken scratches that made up Saddle Arabian text. The act of swapping out word for word in his mind to piece together a coherent narrative, if you could say a story where the main character constantly questions his moral decisions internally while showing no signs of remorse or regret externally had such a thing, from the foreign dialect was the best way to pass the time given to him.
“Hey…” Slate spoke aloud, shifting his book aside slightly to look at his crotch, and the face of the unicorn maid stationed there, “Have you ever been made to cum from someone smacking your labia with a crop?”
It was hard for the mare - ever since Slate met Trendy he was sure to check who was accurately representing their gender - to respond to that question with her mouth bobbing on his dick. However a simple shake of her head informed him that she had not.
“Just as I thought, what a ridiculous idea. There are limits to even the extents of masochism.”
Slate felt a moment of smug satisfaction that his opinions on the subject were confirmed, but those were dashed when the maid removed herself from his shaft to say, “I haven’t personally done that, but I have seen it happen during my training, sir. There was this pegasus girl who used to cum all the time when whipped and beaten. It was amazing to watch her squirt when being caned, and the most amazing part is I think she was a Wonder-GULP!”
Slate grabbed the maid’s mane and shoved her back down on his cock before allowing her to finish. “If I want your gossip, I’ll ask for it.” he stated, not pleased to hear statements that legitimized what he felt was an absurd concept. “Now remember your place, you stupid cock cleaning slut.”
The mare nodded her head, rubbing the firmly pressed cock head positioned at the back of her throat against its wet walls to do so, and continued her task of slurping her tongue along its length. Slate had to admit, the girl knew what she was doing, this facility teaching her well how to use that tongue of hers, but of course Schorl was going to send him her best to convince him to join her.
His mind was still set though, and he was going to be the one to bring this organization to its knees for the insult and mistreatment he had to endure. The crystal bitch wasn’t making it easy on him though. Each of the slaves sent to him, from the ones that he fucked to the ones that delivered his meals, were unicorns, preventing him from using his magic to gain any control over them, which also meant any plot he could dream up had to function on his own abilities. They were also incredibly stingy with useful information, since he couldn’t even ask what city he was in without being told that they were “not permitted to say”. He even tried tried paddling the information out of one such stallion already, since Schorl wasn’t against him requesting toys for his sessions with her playthings, reducing him to a sobbing mess, but all that did was change the answer to a screaming “I don’t know” as the colt’s flank turned a lovely shade of purple.
“I swear.. When I get out of here... “ he muttered to himself, imagining that it was Schorl’s collared visage that he was cramming his cock into instead of this nameless, useless mare. If there was ever a woman who needed to be taught her place, it was her, and he would delight in being the one to teach her the important lesson of what happens when she bites off more than she can chew. Perhaps he could even figure out some way to bend her will to his like she did with these timid creatures that served her. It would be the ultimate irony if the dommie bitch became someone else’s pet pony.
With that pleasing thought crossing his mind, he allowed himself to come to climax inside the unicorn’s muzzle, silently shooting a load of jism down her mouth, keeping hold of her mane with one hand, while reaching over to nearby desk where a small bag rested, reaching inside to pull out a potato chip before chomping it down and returning to his book. As the mare sputtered and shook to avoid choking on his sperm, he was happy to envision her mistress in the same place one day, and that she would thank him for the privilege of being used as a cum receptacle.
Before his cock had the opportunity to deflate from the sensation of orgasm though, a knocking came to his chamber door, shortly followed by, “Are you decent, Mr. Slate? I would like to speak with you.”
And speaking of the bitch. He thought to himself, the sound of his captor’s voice easily identifiable after his first encounter with her. It appeared that she was done making him wait, or perhaps she was just checking up on him. Either way, it was about time that he took the slightest bit of control away from her. She wanted to make sure he wasn’t exposed before entering, and thus didn’t expect him to be when she opened the door.
“Come on in!” Slate exclaimed, getting to his hooves as quickly as he could. As the beckoned crystal mare opened the entrance to his temporary home, his penis slide out of the warm confines of the maid’s mouth, flicking slightly across her upper lip upon exit in it’s semi-erect state. The sex organ couldn’t hold its stiffness in the aftermath of climax though, and soon dangled from his crotch over the maid’s face, seeping the remainder of the fluids contained within it across her snout, up her muzzle, and into one of her eyes as she watched him disgrace her with seman.
Schorl entered the room without hesitation to see Slate standing over the slave mare she had sent to keep him happy, the outsides of her lips spattered in his cum, with a trail of the substance dripped across her face, Slate smiling down at the kneeling female while he clutched her hair in one hand, and a book in the other. It was quite the scene, and as expected it gave the crystal mare reason for pause.
“Good morning, Miss Tourmaline,” Slate said in mocking tone, “Or is it evening? It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sun, I’m not too sure.”
“It’s almost 10:00 PM,” Schorl replied, turning to the side so she didn’t have to look directly at the stallion.
“Oh come now, no need to be bashful Schorl. You’ve already seen me naked.” The stallion was pleased with the crystal mare’s embarrassment. As he figured, even one who ran a business based on pony slavery could be thrown off guard when she she didn’t anticipate every action somepony could make.
“If you don’t mind,” Schorl replied, a bit angrily, “I’d like you to release Juniper’s mane. Last thing I need is for it to be ripped out of her head by the follicles.”
For a split second Slate didn’t know who this ‘Juniper’ was, but then realized Schorl was speaking of the maid. He reluctantly did as he was told, but not before giving the locks of hair in his grip one last tug and shoving her aside. “What do you care? She’s a slave right? She has no rights aside for what we, her betters, bestow upon her.”
“If that is truly what you think, then I still have much to teach you about how to be a proper dominant.” Schorl said, her face stoic in the wake of Slate’s terrible opinion, “A master shouldn’t harm, except when disciplining or training a submissive.”
“Oh you’re full of crap,” Slate said, slipping his dick back into pants, “You rape them, you let me paddle a stallion’s flank with a piece of mahogany. Sadism is part in partial with this business of yours.”
“As is masochism,” Schorl retorted, glaring at the stallion for his accusations, “There is a difference in hurting somepony for no good reason, and allowing them to indulge. Even then, there are limits to what is, and isn’t allowed. It is all listed in your member’s manual, which I’m certain at this point you haven’t read.”
“I did too read it. All two-hundred and forty eight pages.” He said that, knowing damn well that he had spent more time flipping to the last to see what the count was, than he did reading a line of that long list of dos and don’ts.
“Than you should remember the section that says that all members must treat Society property with care, which includes treating any and all slaves within the restrictions placed on them.”
“I wasn’t told about any restrictions,” replied Slate, “Doesn’t the slave have some form of obligation to inform guests if they can’t have their mane’s tugged a little?”
Schorl turned her head down to the maid mare on the floor, who gave a sheepish expression in exchange. It was enough to inform the crystal pony that Slate was being honest. She couldn’t fault him for his transgressions if he wasn’t told there were limitations.
“Then from now on, please make efforts to ask before doing as you please,” Schorl said, tapping her leg to summon Juniper to her side, “As a dom, it is your responsibility to-”
“Yes, yes, I get it. No need to drill in the point. From now on I’ll be more responsible.” Slate tired of this lecture, and wished the dissatisfied crystal mare would just move on, “So unless you have something else you want to speak with me about.”
“I did…” Schorl say, running a hand through the mane of the unicorn as she got in close, turning and twisting her head in ways that seemed more aggressive than his own pulling from where he stood. When she was done inspecting her scalp, she went on to add, “But with your current attitude, I’m not sure I should.”
With that statement, Slate saw a moment where he could strike, and perhaps gain some actual ground against Schorl, “Let’s get serious for a moment here, ‘Miss Tourmaline’.” he said with a tone that mixed indignance with a presence of command, “Your people interrupted me while I was enjoying the company of a demure pegasus mare, and the sexiest zebra this side of Equestria. They then proceeded to stomp on my face, threaten my balls, drug me and stuff me in a crate. After that I brought here, chained to a bed, and further threatened to be shoved into a cage not only by yourself, but a minotaur brute who made no effort to pretend he didn’t wish to break me in two. At what point am I supposed to feel ‘privileged’ that you want me to be a part of your little group.”
Slate could feel the heat rising off the crystal mare, her blood boiling, mouth opening in attempt to give a comeback to what he said, but unable to speak a single word. She had probably never dealt with disrespect before, Slate assumed, or at least not from someone she couldn’t just beat into submission. When she did figure on what to say next, it wasn’t directed at him, but the other mare in the room instead.
“Juniper…” Schorl said with a calmness that rivaled the eye of a storm, “Please go back to the slave quarters, and await further order.” Juniper didn’t make a single mistaken motion as she fulfilled her instructions, assured that if she didn’t obey quickly and completely, then she would be the new target of the crystal pony’s anger.
Watching the maid flee was amusing to Slate, but not nearly as much as watching Schorl’s hands clench at her sides, caught between wanting to unleash her rage and keeping her composure. Near the verge of full body tremors, yet remaining completely still as she stared Slate down, no doubt looking for a sign of weakness or worry as she did what she could to intimidate him.
A sign that he wasn’t going to give, knowing the game she was playing and not fearing the female in the least. They were alone now, and unless somepony came in to interrupt this exchange of gazes, it would only end when one of them submitted to the other. A simple mind game of ‘who flinched first’, and Slate was willing to play it much longer than Schorl could ever know.
“Mr. Slate… I think the two of us have gotten off on the wrong hoof,” Schorl relented, her tensed up stance wavering when faced with Slate’s defiant resolve. “I’ll admit, I’ve been more than a bit unfair to you in all this, not that you have made this experience any easier with your need for hostilities. That and the damage you caused to Society property.”
“The girl will live with her mane intact, I promise.” Slate said, still seeing no fault in his actions.
“You know what I mean,” Schorl replied, pointing the broken bar on the headboard of Slate’s bed, “My outrage earlier is just an extension to your earlier actions. However, I suppose it is all my fault in this case. To be honest, this is the first time I’ve had to deal with a member with the kind background you have.”
“You’ve never dealt with a psychologist before?”
“I’ve never dealt with a criminal before.” Schorl quickly corrected, “Most members don’t need to be drugged and shipped off to me, or bound to a bed frame like a freshly caught slave. Generally, we let them come through the front door on their own accord, and experience the Society in a more friendly atmosphere.”
Slate gave the mare an odd look, and then laughed. The hypocrisy of it all, to call him a criminal for temporarily enhancing a pony’s mind to put them more into the mood, when she was holding ponies against their wills, and raping them until they stopped fighting. He would have given some sort of witty retort to the accusation, but his chuckling took precedence, and Schorl didn’t feel like waiting for him to finish.
“The point is that this has been stressful for all parties, and if you are willing to start over, than I would be willing to do so as well.”
“Start over?” Slate asked, approaching the mare without qualm, “I suppose that I could be encouraged to do so, if you’re willing to make up for the pain inflicted upon my person.”
Schorl didn’t move as he came up to her, closing her eyes as he come less than an inch before her, their two chest practically touching. “And what would it take to wipe away this offense?”
Slate took the opportunity to take a lock of the mare’s long, dark blue hair in his hand, trapping it between his pointer and index finger. “Well I feel that your hospitality has been a bit incomplete so far.” The stallion played with the mane as he spoke, rubbing the stands together. You’ve offered me food, shelter, entertainment… but I believe it is the host’s duty to spend time with with their guests.”
“So you are asking for my company?” Schorl asked rhetorically.
“Perhaps all we need to get along is to spend some time together, intimately.” Slate released Schorl’s mane, circling around to the backside of the woman he had captive in his grasp. With her eyes shut, and showing no indications of resistance, Slate was free to slip his fingers under the seams of her gown, touching his palms against fur and crystalline flesh a they rested on her shoulders. “You would have no reason to worry. I can’t control you with my magic, and it’s not like I would be able to manipulate someone as intelligent as yourself.”
He said that, but his mind wandered back to the thought of making Schorl his. To have her naked before him, balls deep on his shaft, and at the mercy of his will. He could, and would, control her. Not with a spell, but with his own cunning and guile. The workings of the equine mind was his forte, and so far he saw nothing special about the mare’s psyche. She was just a pony with power, with the kind of attitude that ponies with power had. Thus, the crystal mare surely had a weakness he could exploit. All he had to do was look hard enough.
For right now, while Schorl was being permissive about how he touched her, he would see if there was something physical he could exploit. A sensitive bit of skin that would make her putty in his hands. Perhaps a soft spot acquired from an injury that had never healed properly, or just a part of her that was seldom touched. As long as she let him, Schorl’s body would be his to explore and collect data upon for future use.
“How about we remove this dress and get a better look at what you are so poorly hiding beneath it?” She gave no objections, no gestures to stop him, so he proceeded with delay, taking hold of a zipper in the back of her even gown, and pulling it down. He took great efforts to do it as slow as possible, knowing that most mares enjoyed that kind of teasing. The thoughts of a stallion offering pleasure, only to hold it at arm’s length to elongate the experience. It romanticized the act of sex, turning it from a simple expression of base instincts to a unique event that would be etched into their minds.
Schorl didn’t seem to be all that interested though, as all the normal indications of arousal were absent. No change in her breathing patterns, no weakening of the knees or soft mutters and moans to betray her excitement. She seemed utterly stoic about the whole thing, not having spoken a word since she asked if it was her company Slate wanted. The frigidness of the crystal mare got to Slate a little, and he wanted to do something drastic to elicit some sort of response from her. A nibble of her ear, or even something more brash like grabbing her breasts from beneath her clothing, using the soon to be opened back as passage to her moderately sized mammaries.
Settling on the idea of feeling Schorl up, which would no doubt get a reaction from her, but would also be satisfying for him, Slate pulled the zipper the rest of the way down in a fluid motion. He was ready to go in for the strike, going so far as to slip his hands into the gown and touch Schorl’s sides, before something unexpected brought him pause. The mare’s back, to his surprise, was covered in scars. Large, darkened lines of skin that shaded the hue of her already dark purple fur to a shade of near black. There were so many, and in seemingly random directions, as if she had been flogged with a whip viciously for hours on end, or that someone incredibly malicious had taken a blade to her in a manner that would leave the most lasting impression.
“Is something wrong?” Schorl asked, “Did you find something you like?”
“N-not at all,” Slate replied, the unsightly marks throwing him off a bit more than he’d like to admit, “I’ve just never seen a mare-”
“In such poor condition?” Schorl didn’t have to look at Slate to know that he was in shock at what he was seeing. It was not everyday that a pony saw the results of a pure, unrestrained sadist.
“I wasn’t going to say that…” Slate said, while examining the marks closer. “They aren’t without their own… charm, I suppose.” The marks looked far from fresh, having healed long ago. To the touch, the texture was rough compared to any other part of her body, but so much that it felt callused. As savage as it looked, the person responsible for it knew how to leave his signature without strengthening her against any future torture.
Even as Slate touched it, he could tell how delicate Schorl’s scars were, with her making sucking noises through her teeth as he prodded them. Yet, she didn’t pull away from him. It was as if she wanted him to see the pain she had suffered.
Is that what you’re trying to do? he thought, Endear me to you by showing me some traumatic experience from your past? You’re gonna have to do better than that.
The marks did warrant a question though, the only one somepony would have when looking at a severe injury. “So, how did you get all of these?”
Schorl took in a few more soft breaths, Slate still prodding at her back, before giving an answer, “Before I became the leader of the Society, I once had a master of my own.”
“You were a slave?” Slate said in follow up to this revelation, his intrigue peaked.
“You could say that, but I like to think of myself as my master’s loyal servant. When I was younger, he claimed me as his, and trained me personally in the art of servitude. His methods are used here on more stubborn potentials, though in a diluted form. I fear that not everypony would be able to survive what I went through with their minds intact.”
Schorl was being as presumptuous as ever, but Slate did have to admit that she could back up her claim. “Well he certainly put you through the wringer, that’s for sure.”
“My master was harsh and demanding, but powerful and awe-inspiring. When you stood before him, you knew who he was, and his image demanded respect. None who served him could resist the strength of his will.”
Slate noticed the mare shudder as she reminisced about the stallion who once owned her, and picked up on a fresh scent of arousal wafting in the air. Seemed that the mare felt fondly about her time with this stallion who maimed her so thoroughly.
“I’ve never met another man, stallion or otherwise, who radiated dominance like he did, and I believe I never will again.”
Slate took the crystal mare’s last remark as an offhanded insult, It was hard to see it any other way, since by bolstering this mystery stallion’s image to unrealistic heights, she was saying that all others were inferior by comparison.
“I’m not sure about the company you’ve kept until now,” Slate said, excluding himself from the rest of the riffraff Schorl was lumping him with, “But I bet that I could give your old master a run for his bits.”
“Mr. Slate, I mean no insult to your abilities or demeanor, but you would have a hard time competing with-”
The unicorn stallion, noticing that Schorl was wandering back into her comfort zone of discussing her former master, chose this time to strike. With as much speed as he could muster, he relocated his hands to two very vulnerable locations. One headed straight for the base of the mare’s left tit, gripping it at it’s base with so much intensity that one would think that his goal was to meet his thumb with the other fingers of his hand somewhere in the center of the meat sphere. The strength of his grip would have surely caused the mare to call out in pain, but even before he had started to squeeze Schorl’s breast, he had already placed his other hand on her throat, clamping down on her larynx to prevent Schorl from making a noise.
“What do you think about this, you stupid slave slut,” Slate whispered into Schorl’s ear, pulling his once captor, and now captive, into his against his chest. He could feel her pulse rise rapidly, hear her try struggle to make quick breathes around his fingers, and watched as her narrowed eyes stare into his like a scared animal.
Without an escape plan, knowledge of the area he was in, or proper equipment to make it past the unknown number of guards the Society had, this attack on Schorl was little more than suicide. Even if he tried to use her as a bargaining chip to exchange his freedom, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t be rushed or otherwise taken down. Slate didn’t intend to leave though, nor did he fear future retribution for what he was doing to the mare. In fact, he was sure she wasn’t going to do anything to him for holding her against her will.
On the contrary, if Schorl wanted to act against him, she would have done it the moment she was grabbed. Slate’s hold was anything but secure, having purposely made it so her appendages had full freedom of movement. If she wanted, Schorl could easily elbow him in the ribs or stomped down on the toe of his hoof, and if she did then he would have backed off and pretended it was a very unfunny joke. But she hadn’t… Instead she allowed Slate to do as he pleased, and even leaned into him softly as he pulled her close. He had expected nothing less from her, given what he had learned about the mare.
In his expert opinion, Schorl suffered from a pathological need to be manhandled. An internal urge to have someone lord over her, just as she did to the slave ponies of her organization. Only that would explain why she would revere a stallion who had so thoroughly marred her body. Determining that this was a feature of her psyche, a few other pieces fell into place as well.
For starters, he could assume that “The Society” was little more than a front for the mare’s personal wish fulfillment. This dominant portrayal she exhibited was far from genuine, her bitchy persona simply a mask hiding a timid girl looking for somepony, or some stallion to be exact, to take control of her as her clearly absent master once did. This entire facility could have been created in pursuit of that goal, bringing in strong and willful ponies from across Equestria, such as himself, to see if any measure up to her image of a perfect master. Even if she couldn’t locate one who naturally met all her standards, she might have felt that she could train someone with the plethora of ponies she had enslaved as guinea pigs. Lucky for her then that she stumbled upon somepony happy to take the role, albeit temporarily.
“You’re pathetic,” Slate stated openly, guiding Schorl over to his bed by pulling the mare’s mammary in its direction, “I’m gripping your tit hard enough that it’d turn purple if it weren’t already, and all it does is make your heart race with excitement.”
Schorl tried to respond, but with a thumb pressed against her windpipe, she could do little but move her lips.
“Ah, ah,” Slate said condescendingly, “Unless what you have to say from here on out is ‘Yes master’, I don’t want to hear it. You’re mine now.”
When finished issuing his instructions, the stallion removed his hand from the crystal mare’s throat, only to use it to shove her forward. Schorl in turn stumbled forward, only a little before hitting her knees against the side of Slate’s mattress, forcing her to fall across it because of her momentum.
“This is a side of you I think I prefer,” Slate commented, Schorl’s hooves still on the ground, knees bent only slightly, pushing her tail end up as her top half rested on the bed, “None of that attitude from before, and completely at my mercy.” Before Schorl could do or say anything, Slate grabbed the bottom back part of the dress she was wearing, and lifted it up high. “And look at that, you came perfectly dressed for this occasion.”
Schorl had nothing on under that form fitting dress, thus no piece of fabric stood in the way of his gaze and the spaces between her legs. As he had assumed, the crystal mare’s privates were moist to the point of nearly dripping onto the floor, her desire for the way Slate was treating her apparent to any who would love upon her. That aside, her figure wasn’t half bad. She had a decently plump ass, a beautiful set of legs, and a delightfully curvy waistline that was slender and lean, showing that she had a healthy diet, but not what one would consider ‘muscular’, indicating that she didn’t exercise much. A figure of idealistic perfection, gained through minimal physical effort.
Flipping the bit of of silk he held onto the curvature of Schorl’s spine, Slate gave his now free hand another target, one more attached to the crystal unicorn, and entirely appropriate considering their earlier argument. That long, flowing mane of hers practically begged to be pulled, and thus he abided to its wishes. With Slate holding tightly to a large lock of Schorl’s mane, the mare had no choice but to follow its lead back to Slate, her body compelled by his masculine power to return to his side.
Slate didn’t want her back on her hooves though, it was much more befitting for the bitch to be bent before him, so he took measures to prevent that from happening. All it took was the careful placement of his knee on top of her spine, and a generous application of his weight, to keep her from standing.Now he could tug and pull all he wished, and all she could manage was to push her breasts out and make them easier to feel up if he felt the need.
Schorl didn’t try to fight him too much through this process, and submitted herself to his actions throughout. The only protest she made was when she felt the pressure of his knee come down upon the scars on her back, letting out one terrible and elongated moan of what Slate discerned was both agony and ecstasy, as her horn lit up in a burst of magic that was easily identifiable as a horngasm. The mare was masochistic for sure, and while he didn’t consider himself some sadistic barbarian, Slate did find a semblance of joy in her suffering. He could even get used to tormenting Schorl, giving her what she deserved for getting in his way and causing him pain. Little by little, Slate was starting to think that perhaps his previous plan to destroy the Society was a bit hasty.
Maybe a group with its kind of resources and goals could be useful if it had proper leadership. Schorl had probably derailed the Society for some time with her selfish goal of seeking a new master, and didn’t appear to be leader material to begin with, both things it didn’t take a psychologist to see. Her little group could be turned into something useful though. While misguided, the club’s written creed of training ponies to be true to their inner desires had merit, just so long as they were willing to do so in a manner that Slate found acceptable. Any malcontents could be dealt with and gotten rid of in some manner or another, like that other unicorn stallion that had helped to capture him, while those that conformed could stay. Slate could practically picture it all before his eyes, and it put a smile across his muzzle.
Such a plan couldn’t be done over night though, and had to begin somewhere before the eventual, and inevitable, ending to this scenario unfolded. That beginning was training the wretch pinned under his leg to be an upstanding, and completely devoted, slave to his whims, which seemed simple enough. She was only a mare, with simple marely desires he could satisfy with ease. Weird desires indicative of mental instability and psychological trauma, but simple nonetheless.
“Enough with this foreplay,” Slate stated aloud, ready to get to something enjoyable to himself, “Let’s get to the main course.”
The stallion removed his leg from atop the mare, and replaced it with his crotch as he straddled Schorl’s body, sitting atop her back like she was some sort of beast of burden, instead of a sapient creature deserving of respect. He then proceeded to take her mane, still trapped within his grip, and wrapped it once around her neck. The length of hair was long enough to make it around once, with just enough to create a loosely tied knot. The result was a sort of choke collar made from the mare’s own hair, of which he could use to motivate her should the need arise. He gave it a few tugs to test his handiwork, and the strands were strong enough together to not snap under the pressure.
Throughout all of this, Schorl neither tried to stop him, or stopped her horn from glowing, further proving to Slate that she wanted this to happen to her. The moans, bucks, and gasps she made were either reactionary, or part of the show, and in no way reflected her true feelings. It was interesting to see a mare with natural masochistic tendencies - as opposed to those he implanted himself - in action, so he gave her leash of a mane a few more tugs for his amusement, prolonging her lack of oxygen for longer periods, and gradually increasing the power behind his pulls. He could have gone on doing this for quite some time, giving his soon to be pet her the desires of her freakish fetish, but eventually her reactions got out of hand.
While he was focused on teasing the crystal mare with the torment she craved, she had managed to slip her hands unnoticed to her sides. At first she only used them to grip Slate by the lower thigh, which Slate didn’t mind too much. Gripping and grabbing were part of the sexual experience after all. What Slate couldn’t abide by though, was when Schorl dug her fingernails into his skin during a specifically harsh tug. It was probably instinctual, her body demanding she did something to allow a breath when it assumed she pass out without it, but unlike the crystal pony, pain was not his forte. A moment of sharp, scraping pain forced Slate to let go, but only so he too could do what his instincts told him and punish the perpetrator. Schorl didn’t even have the time to fall onto the bed before the back of the stallion’s hand crashed into her face.
Upon realizing what he had done, Slate was given pause. He really hadn’t meant to do that. Slate wasn’t really the violent type, and striking another pony was beyond him. Yet here he was, strangling a mare with her own mane, and hitting her across the mouth so hard that it created a sizable break in her lip. He didn’t know what to think about this, or the river of purple blood dripping onto the coverings of his bed.
He couldn’t do anything until he rationalized this out, outside of sit there and hyperventilate as if having narrowly avoided being hit by a runaway cart. Luckily, Schorl was just as stunned as he was, thus was doing nothing to add to this terrible situation as the stallion thought things through.
What’s going on here Slate? The stallion thought as his senses crawled back onto the surface. This was unlike him, even if he was trying to fulfill a role in attempt to bring Schorl under his will.
The most Slate had ever done before now were things that caused superficial damage, like clothes pins pinching soft skin or light paddlings. Things that gave him a feeling of empowerment without bringing harm to those in his power. Having Schorl wrapped around his finger was an enticing and arousing thought, but not at the cost of his own self control. Any kink Slate felt while dominating a pony meant nothing the moment his restraint was lost, and his once rock hard shaft fell as flaccid as a wet noodle. With his perverse desires subsiding, his attention and concern focused on the mare trapped beneath him.
He watched Schorl touch the spot on her face where he had struck, curiously examining the deep purple covering her finger tips. “Hmm…” She said without a hint of being upset or put off, more pleasantly surprised than anything, putting the fingers into her mouth immediately afterwards. At the same time, she took the chance to uncoil her hair from around her neck, and once finished with both undoing the tie Slate had made and cleaning her fingers of vital fluids, she turned her head so she could look at the unicorn male atop her.
“Is something the matter?” asked the crystal mare nonchalantly, as if the injury Slate had caused was nothing.
“Well… I… I think I went a bit too far...” replied Slate as his composure slowly returned to him.
Hearing this, the glow of Schorl’s horn died down. “Mr. Slate, could you please remove yourself from me?”
Not wanting to exacerbate the damage he had already caused, Slate got off of Schorl, allowing her to turn onto her back. She laid there for a few seconds, looking like she was thinking to herself about something, and then sat up straight, thankfully with the slit Slate formed in her lip facing away from him.
“Things got out of hand, didn’t they?” she said somberly, leaning forward slightly, resting her arms in her lap.
“Yeah…” Slate answered, running a hand across his face.
The two unicorns took this time to sit in silence, each letting the other piece together their thoughts. Slate didn’t know about Schorl, but he was at a loss for words. He felt like an apology was in order, but that would be admitting he was wrong to a person who had wronged him first. He still felt she needed to be punished for what she had done to him, by being sent to jail for her long list of crimes or made to be his pet, but he that he lost sight of himself in the process scared him.
“I’m sorry you felt you needed to do this,” Schorl said first, shifting her eye more directly at the stallion, “You are not the first to think what I need is a good beating.”
Slate wasn’t exactly sure what the crystal mare was getting at, but clarification felt in order. “What do you mean?”
Schorl smirked, “You think that you’re the first to try and tame me?”
“Well…”
“Mr. Slate, the Society is filled with mares and stallions with dominant natures, with some believing that there is nothing in this world they cannot possess. I have accepted long ago that their assumptions extend to me as well.”
“Then… what’s this all about? Why let me go so far?”
“I thought it was what you wanted,” said Schorl, “And you were implying if I let you have your way with me then we could sweep this nastiness under the rug. And to be honest… I’ve had worse.”
Schorl was being incredibly casual about this whole thing, which irked Slate more than relieved him. Sure, he hadn’t done anything that would make a permanent mark, but this was important to him, and thus shouldn’t be treated lightly by her.
“So what are the other members going to think about this?” Slate asked, “Now that I’ve hurt their prize?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that too much,” Schorl replied, “They don’t need to know about all this ugliness.”
“Well… I appreciate that much.” Last thing Slate wanted was a mob of angry rapists coming to his doorstep. He has already felt first hand how effective they were at inflicting pain when they wanted to, and here was no place he could run if he pissed them off.
“And just so you are aware, I don’t actually belong to any of them,” Schorl explained, wishing to make sure that he understood her relationship with her members, “But it is the goal of the Society to allow ponies to express their true selves. So if they feel they are pony enough to try and tame me, I allow them some time in my private quarters to show their worth, and some are very good at what they do. Though none of them have been able to break me yet.”
“I see…” Slate said, getting over his shock and replacing it with annoyance at Schorl’s pompous behavior.
“That aside though, most are not incredibly violent, at least not to other members. Have to follow the rules and all. You’d be worse off if my bodyguard found out than if one of the ponies did.”
“Bodyguard?” Slate thought back to the minotaur that accompanied Schorl during her first visit. The half ton of raw bovine muscle that prevented him from simply shoving Schorl aside and walking out of this place.
Slate was about to mention the minotaur, to show that he wasn’t completely clueless, but he found himself interrupted by a knocking at his door. It wasn’t a gentle tapping, such as what Schorl did to announce her arrival, but instead a heavy pounding that seemed to threaten the integrity of the divider.
“Oh!” Schorl exclaimed, seemingly as surprised as the stallion with the sudden interruption. However, while the noise itself caught the crystal mare caught her off guard, she knew exactly who it was who caused the commotion. “Speaking of Sartek, it would seem he is here to retrieve me.”
Schorl got up off the bed, and headed for the door. At first Slate didn’t think anything of it. If Schorl wanted to leave, then he had no issue with it. After all that had happened, he could do for some time alone. But then he remembered what Schorl just said about her bodyguard, and how he would be in trouble if the minotaur found out he had hurt her. As ideas of what the minotaur would do entered his thoughts, he leaped out of bed and after Schorl.
“Wait! Don’t-!”
Schorl turned back, but that didn’t stop the door from opening from the outside. The minotaur lacked the common courtesy that the crystal mare displayed when entering a room, and when Schorl didn’t respond instantly, opened the door without so much as an ‘I’m coming in’.
“Schorl, what’s taking you so long?” The minotaur asked, stepping into the room, “You’re running late. You were suppose to be done in here ten minutes ago. What’s keeping you?”
The mare approached Sartek, putting a hand into her hair and combing it out to quickly fix the mess Slate had made of it earlier. “Don’t worry, Sartek. Me and Mr. Slate were just having a long conversation about his behavior, and how he would do his best not to be a problem anymore, isn’t that right Mr. Slate?”
Slate had stopped in his tracks when he saw the behemoth bovine enter, and had resorted to acting inconspicuous to any wrongdoings. Pretending that nothing had happened, the stallion milled around in the center of his room, responding to Schorl with only a “Huh? Oh, yes. We have.”
Schorl understood his want to keep what had happened while the two of them were alone, and thus led onto another topic. “In fact, I think that he is ready for the next step.”
“Next step?” Slate pondered aloud.
“Yes,” Schorl confirmed, “It was what I wanted to discuss with you before we got sidetracked. I feel that you’ve progressed a lot, especially after what I’ve seen today, so I think it’s time you you were introduced to the other members, and inducted into their ranks.”
Slate liked the sound of that, despite it sounding like the crystal mare was treating him like a troublesome foal by keeping him away from the other children until he was ready to play nice. It implied that he would be able to leave his room soon.
“And when is this supposed to happen?” Slate asked the mare, ready to see anything outside the of his chamber.
“Tomorrow we’ll be holding a party in order to initiate new recruits such as yourself to how we in the Society do things.”
“Tomorrow, huh? Well I suppose that I can occupy myself until then. Will I be expected to do anything?”
“Just to show up and, more importantly, be yourself. It’s better if the others accept you for who you are, than like you for who you’re not.”
Aware that Schorl was referring to earlier events, he agreed to some degree that stepping too far out of his comfort zone was a bad idea. With a half-hearted nod, he accepted these terms, at least for the time being.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll be here to escort you and your fellow inductees personally, and then you’ll be able to see the Society for what it truly is.”
With that final word, it seemed that Schorl was done with Slate for the day. However, the minotaur didn’t appear to be as satisfied as the crystal pony. His brow was furrowed, visibly upset about something as he stood in Schorl’s way to the exit.
“Sartek, aren’t you going to get the do-mrph!?”
The minotaur brought his employer’s statement to an abrupt stop, grabbing her by the jaw. Without saying a single word, he started tilting her head around, looking it over at all angles. He must’ve caught a glimpse of something he didn’t like, and wanted to confirm his suspicions. Slate knew there was no way the minotaur didn’t notice what he had done, the cut he made in Schorl’s lip was hardly something one could hide. With that knowledge and the knowledge of what Schorl said about how protective he was of his paycheck, Slate started to take slow steps backwards to at least buy him a few precious seconds before being beaten to a pulp.
The beating never came though, and instead Sartek released Schorl when she put her hands on his, and pushed it away. “Sartek, stop.” Schorl said with a chuckle, finding her bodyguard’s worry humorous, “I’m fine. Nothing happened, and Slate was a perfect gentleman. I assure you.”
The minotaur still didn’t look pleased, but for some reason he didn’t take his displeasure out on Slate, he instead abided by the wishes of his employer, and let his qualms go, opening the door and stepping aside.
Without Sartek in her path, Schorl made her way out the door, but paused just before leaving. “And Mr. Slate,” She said, turning back around, “I’m so glad we could have this talk today.” After that, the crystal mare left with little more than a flick of her tail upon her exit, taking her bodyguard with her. The loud slam he made as he he closed the do rung in Slate’s ears, but powerful as it was, it wasn’t nearly as impressive as what Schorl had just shown him.
Now he knew why the minotaur found nothing worth breaking his bones over, as when Schorl revealed her face to him again, there was nothing wrong with it. No split in her lip, no swelling, not even so much as a bruise. Her face was perfectly fine, untouched even. It threw Slate off as much as it did the minotaur, and made him wonder if he imagined the severity of the injury in his panic.
There was one way he could be sure of what he saw; the bit of blood he believed he spotted dripping onto his bed cover. If it was still there, then he hadn’t been seeing things. He went to his bed to check, and low and behold, the purple substance was there. At least, something he thought was the substance was laying on his covers, but something was different about it. It looked shiner, and more solid.
“Did it clot?” he asked himself, hesitantly reaching out to touch the beads of blood. When he finally worked up the courage to make contact though, he found that the blood was not clotted, but crystallized. In the time it took Schorl to leave his room, her blood had transformed from a liquid to solid stone.
Picking up the purple rock, Slate brought it to his eye and allowed his powers of deduction to take over. “So that’s what happened. What a clever little trick.” Slate had to admit that he didn’t know much about crystal pony biology, but this seemed to make a lot of sense now that he saw it in action. Something about their blood reacting with the air caused it to create a seal that made it as if the injury didn’t even happen.
That also explained why Schorl had such terrible scars. Her previous master must’ve had found her a convenient outlet for his sadism, a pony who could be ready for more torment mere moments after being pushed to her limits. Seeing how he actually managed to scar such a creature, he pushed those limits to an extreme, and often. There was no way he could ever compete with that, not when he was squeamish at the smallest of wounds.
“So… that is what she was trying to tell me.” said Slate with a smile, not yet giving up on the idea that he could claim her as his own, and with her the Society on the whole. “What a clever little bitch.”
Slate still believed entirely on his diagnosis of the mare. That she was looking for a master, and that she allowed ponies to try their hand at taming her only supported that. But now he realized he was looking at it all wrong. Schorl was a sadistic slut, but she had already experienced more pain from her first master than she could ever receive from any other pony. Now she was looking for something else, and that was where all the ponies that handled her failed. They went for what they believed she craved, instead of taking the hint of what she really wanted.
“Be myself, eh?” he said, pocketing the piece of Schorl he held as a souvenir. “Very well, next time we will do things my way. Then… I’ll have you eating out of the palm of my hand.”
Within his short time of knowing Schorl, Slate found the mare to be a bit of an enigma. There were times that she was a total bitch. During these times, she made him feel as if his very presence at the Society simply annoyed her. Surprising, since his presence was not voluntary to begin with. Then there were other times that she acted interested in him. Letting him take full control of her. Sure, she played it off like she let everyone have a crack at her, but Slate had a feeling that she was just being coy. She was an ice queen, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want a king.
The situation he was currently in only served to mix the signals he was getting from her further. She had let him out of his room, and placed him in another room as she went to freshen herself up for the upcoming party. Schorl, ever the humble hostess, made sure that Slate wasn’t left alone in this circular chamber. He had been given entertainment in the form of three lovely exotic dancers that represented Equestria’s three most prominent races. Three ponies, pegasus, unicorn, and earth pony, each donning nothing more than their birthday suits save for an individualized and stylized collar. All three were showing varied levels of discomfort upon their faces.
The unicorn mare was, appropriately, the most mature of the bunch, sporting a figure that would have nicely filled one of Schorl’s gowns. Her coat was white, her mane and tail purple, and around her throat was a collar so interlaced with sparkling diamonds that he couldn’t spot the material they were embedded in. The gems were no doubt to match the cutie mark on her rounded rump, which was a set of three light blue gems, and did so in spectacular fashion, luring the eye up to her beautiful face and rounded breasts. She had the kind of superbly curved body that he would have happily groped, slapped, and teased till the mare was left tender and begging to be released from the lustful agony he would fill her with. The way that she reluctantly and seductively swayed those hips, the careful touches her skin with those dainty hands, and the soft sound that slipped past from those supple lips made this simple slave mare one of the most attractive unicorns he had encountered yet.
In a way, her performance was made all the more enjoyable through her lack of enthusiasm. He had become so accustomed to the willingness that he induced onto ponies with his magic that their mind controlled consent had become tedium. It gave a bit of thrill to see the unicorn show nothing but pure stoicism, freezing her expressions in a way that could only be similarly captured by an expertly crafted porcelain doll. Slate could see that she despised her exposed form being explored visually and without consent, but her loathing came without complaint or so much of a gesture that would reveal her apprehension to any but the most trained of eyes. Surely the unicorn only did so to avoid a poor review, and the subsequent punishment that would follow, but that just added to the titillating aspect of it all. She had no say in the matter, was at the complete control of her captors, and thus did as she was instructed to do in lieu of her resentment. Only a heart completely devoid of perversion could resist the deliciousness of this scenario, and Slate was not that pony.
Whereas the unicorn was the most alluring of the group, the pegasus was the least so. While the unicorn showed a great deal of confidence despite being in a poor position, an ability that was indicative of a unicorn, the pegasus lacked all forms of style and grace. Her movements were clunky, and unrefined. He had seen similar motions in rave clubs, where the pitch black rooms and strobing lights hid the unsophisticated motions that the young ponies considered dancing these days.
That put this girl at a young age, recently achieving adulthood if his guess was accurate. The inexperienced might have pinned her as younger, with her underdeveloped breasts and sleek frame, but he had bedded enough of the birdbrains to know that ones that were endowed like her unicorn partner were rare, pegasi females having evolved smaller bust sizes to make themselves more aerodynamic, allowing their wings to take the place of mammaries for the purposes of drawing in potential mates. There was certainly physical advantage to having all that open space in front of them, but it did take away from their womanly features. Being the trained psychologist he was, he had always assumed that was the reason many of the feathered females kept girlish personalities, or became stereotypical tomboys like the ones that filled the ranks of the Wonderbolts.
That thought, and the feathered females subpar talent to keep Slate’s interest, made the stallion’s gaze drift to the last member of the their trio. The odd one out, the only one who wasn’t equipped with a pair of tits and matching set of ovaries, instead carrying an erection that proudly jutted from his crotch, though its master was fairly embarrassed by its arousal. The stallion was attractive, properly toned muscularly, with what he would call “country charm” about him. There were ways to tell what kind of environment an earth pony lived in, and while this one had perfectly pedicured hooves, and a finely combed mane that would lure in all who were interested in the male persuasion, those chiseled calves and rock hard abs were not the kind one saw on your common city colt. Schorl sure liked her boys pretty, and that was one thing he could agree with in her tastes, even if her tendency to feminize her personal slave stallions was off-putting.
These three delights, if one counted the pegasus, dancing around on their circular platform could easily be interpreted as Schorl showing to him the treasures that awaited for him when Slate finally proved himself as her master. A plethora of pony flesh for him to partake from, of all shapes, sized, and flavors. To claim the crystal mare was to claim all this as his own, and having that waved in front of him turned his temptation into pure desire. Owning Schorl and her little club of aristocrats and slave ponies was no longer an errant thought in the corner of his mind, it was a goal. One that he would have been one-hundred percent that Schorl wanted him to pursue… If not for the other ponies that accompanied him and the dancers.
“WOOHOO!” Called out an earth pony mare, jumping out of her seat as the stallion elevated slightly above her got close to her. ”Shake those bit making buns!”
Schorl, well intended or not, had left him with a group of… unsavory characters and their pets, the private dance not nearly as private as he would have enjoyed. These others were ponies that, like himself, were to be properly inducted into the Society this night, although they hadn’t been given as rough a treatment as he had from his understanding. As Schorl had said before, most patrons of her club were not dragged in kicking and screaming, and these ponies were all invited normally for a variety of reasons.
The brown earth mare with chocolate hair practically reaching out to the sculpted ass in front of her was Blue Bonnet Buttercup, or as she near demanded to be addressed, simply “Buttercup”. She was a rancher, owning a fairly modest sized dairy farm chain that employed a good portion of the cow population in Equestria. Equestrians often joked about ponies that made an occupation milking the tits of bovine creatures, even if it was considered a ‘respectable’ profession for the cows and provided Equestria on the whole with dairy products, and seemed Buttercup fell right into all the perverse stereotypes one would expect.
Of all the women in the room, Buttercup’s boobs, and honestly there was no better way to describe them, were the largest. Those double Ds were so intrusive that if she had been seated aside Slate, his view of the stage would have been blocked completely. Fortunately though, she had a pair of associates she had brought along with her that sat on either side of her, that kept her a few spaces away from where he sat, At least he believed that was the case, as the two hardly looked like Society material. Slate could tell that they looked too common, too ordinary to be a part of Schorl’s group, regardless if this was the first time since his abduction that he had seen any other members.
One of said associates was an earth stallion, one who was a bit lacking physically when compared to the earth pony dancing. Buttercup had called him Widget earlier, and took the time to explain in excruciating detail about how he was the brains behind a fully automated milking machine she had set up in her dairy farm. She had said something about how it was powered by her bovine employees, which she made a point of calling her cattle on several occasions, stepping up and down on a series of pedals in order to run the very device that milked them. She endorsed this as a more ‘personally sensitive’ manner of extracting the milk from them all, as it severely lowered the need for ponies to be hired for the task of milking them by hand. Of course, the more likely reason she had the machine created was because it cut down the cost of production. It didn't hurt matters either that the cows were likely glad to do more work for the same amount of pay if it involved a little more privacy.
Her other compatriot was, unsurprisingly, a cow by the name of Bessie. No doubt one of Buttercup’s employees from her farm turned contractual servant. What the girl perceived as a normal nine to five job was likely a series of manipulations put in place to keep her in a state of reliance on Buttercup’s employ. Businesses often had large work contracts for their ‘second class’ staff, entire books of text that kept them under their employer’s control. They would start with the good parts, like decent pay rates, the promises of room and board, and health care plans to make sure that sounded great when explained. They soon would learn though that those extra parts came directly out of their pay, which left them with much less than they assumed, turning what would have been a fair pay into less than half of what ponies would earn. This, and the penalties that came for breaking a contract if they tried to back out when it became too late, made most dairy cows into the proverbial ‘wage slave’, trapped in a lifetime of service to the one who signed their checks.
One might think this was illegal, that Celestia would do something to put a stop to it, but to be honest there was nothing about it that was worth the effort of putting a stop to. The system itself had been implemented long ago, and the cows for the most part never complained about it. They were treated well, provided a home, feed three meals a day, and kept healthy by the owners of their contracts. There were very few cow who were ambitious enough to risk such security for the unrealistic dream of a better life. There had been some ponies in the past who would try to rally for better bovine rights, activist groups of busy bodies and ponies with nothing better to do, but even the cows felt they would be making a mountain out of a molehill. Slate’s stance on it always was that it was a moot point. If the process was fair, and the legal binding of the cows morally justified, then there was nothing wrong. If not, then one cannot help those who wished to be exploited. Cows were incredibly dull creatures anyways, not deserving of Slate’s time. Still, Slate couldn’t help but make his observations about the only bovine in a room full of equines.
Starting with her physical features, she was a white cow with black splotches splashed across the few revealed parts of her body, one making a somewhat endearing patch over her left eye. The irises of said eyes were green and, from the angle he was looking at her, partially obscured by a set of paired bangs, the rest of her hair was tied behind her in a pair of looped braids. Her hair itself was a dull rust, as was her face while she directed her muzzle to the ground, never looking directly at the performers, reminding Slate of an odd joke that he had once heard that made light of the girl’s race.
Agewise, she seemed to not be that old. She worn loosely fitted clothing, but even with them on Slate could tell she had a slender figure for a milk maker, and apparent bashfulness in the presence of exposed flesh, which meant she couldn’t have seen so much as a year in the work force. If she had, her breasts would have been jutting out a bit more, and tightened her shirt up to revealing degrees regardless of its size. They looked to be about above average when compared to an average pony, but for a cow Bessie was underdeveloped, yet to endure the stimulus that would swell them to a proper bovine size. Either that or she was just a runt. Both options were plausible, and the latter might have explain why Buttercup chose her to accompany her to this gathering. Not many ponies have the ability to honestly say they have a bigger bust than a cow, and proof of such a claim might have excited her.
Whatever the reason, Slate lost interest in the topic when he made his conclusions, and shifted his focus onto the other members of the audience. Buttercup’s overwhelming personality and peculiar guests drew in all kinds of attention, for all the reasons except the ones she probably wanted, but there was another sitting with them who made a lasting impression for the opposite reason. A grisled old grey unicorn was sitting across from Slate, going in and out of cover provided to him by the erotic motions of the dancers. While the others were having the time of their lives enjoying the entertainment, chatting it up, and partaking in the refreshments, this stallion was the only one joining Slate in simply sitting back and watching quietly until Schorl returned. Because of that, Slate couldn’t analyze too much from the stallion, save from what take in from his appearance.
The grey stallion, of whom Schorl had introduced as Carbon when she was passing around names to the participants of this show, had some fairly telling features in the scars he had on his face, and the broken horn atop his head. He had seen his fair share of conflict, or at least suffered a terrible accident. It was possible that he was one of the royal guard, since Slate already knew Schorl had a couple of Night Guard ponies working for her, or maybe he dealt with some wild beasts. Whatever it was, he didn’t seem like the type to tangle with. His thestral companion however did seem to be the type that Slate would have enjoyed the company of.
Another redhead, this bat winged beauty clung close to her master. There were few points where she didn’t have her arms draped over him, or at least held his hand like she was in a constant fear of being dragged away. She was timid for such a feral sub species of pony, but her behavior reeked of Society interference, if not Carbon’s own training. Maybe moreso the latter, since every time Slate tried to get a better look at the girl, Carbon would glare back at him menacingly. It might not be in him to hand over something he was so protective of, even to somepony who pretended to care about the well being of slaves as convincingly as Schorl did.
All the others in the room held no importance to Slate, being just more well to do ponies, or those who just had enough of the dominant spark to be considered for membership. Ponies tended to blend in with one another after a while, and if not for those with outlandish or incredibly subdued personality, one could swear the lot of them were pretty much the same. It was possible that he would never utter a single word to any of them, and if that were the case he felt that he would lose nothing from it.
The dancing continued for some time. For how long, Slate couldn’t tell. Still no clocks, still no sign of daylight. He would have laughed at the revelation of his dependence on such things, if not for his own detest at being at the mercy of something. When the door to the chamber opened, he let slip the words “Thank Celestia” from his lips, something he usually made efforts to not do since he didn’t exactly revere the princess or her laws. In this case however, it appropriately displayed his relief.
Every head turned to see what was entering, and as anticipated it was Schorl, along with one of her maid slaves and the minotaur that never seemed to stray ten feet away from her. She was not wearing one of her normal evening wear though, which was something that surprised quite a few of the ponies in the room who had never seen her in anything else, but instead an elaborately tailored dress.
“I hope I didn’t keep you all waiting too long”, she said, taking a few soft steps in a pair of white soled, black hoof shoes made of silk, strands of the material wrapping around her calves and tying into a bow. “But as you see my preparations required some time.”
Slate could not refute Schorl’s need for time, or the results that time had borne. The mare was impressively fitted into a collection of strings, lace, and frills that made her look like another mare all together. Most of the fabric was black, but there were plenty of whites, silvers, and shades of crimson that kept her from being one big inky blob. Starting her shoes, and going up, the mare wore a pair of webbed nylons, which traveled up her legs and disappeared under a knee length skirt. The skirt had a triangular shape, making it what was called a “flared”, partly pleated to create a split in the center, which connected the two sections of black fabric with a patch of white in the middle. The trim of it had been adorned with white frills, and the belt was a simple grey band that bore a bow of the same color in the front.
Just above that, sewn directly to the skirt, was a leather corset, tightly bound to give the mare a slimmer look. There was a small gap in the center, were a series of laces criss crossed over each other again and again to form a binding powerful enough to restrain the crystal mare’s already slightly plump stomach from popping out too far, a layer of blood red placed behind it to hide said belly from the world. The corset stopped just below her bust, and gave off the illusion that they were bigger than they really were due to her gut being suppressed. The red fabric did not stop there though, and continued up in a straight column until reaching her collar bone, where it then split off in a V, and ducked behind her neck. On either side of it, was more black cloth, which covered her breasts, and then puffed out to to create two little balls that covered her shoulders. Her arms themselves would have been bare, but they had their own sleeve on them, detached from the dress, hugging to her arms by a red ribbon on one end, while the black lengths funneled out and became loose as they traveled down to her wrists.
Her costume, as Slate would call it, continued just above the neckline of the dress, where Schorl was wearing a black choker with white frills, and a oval shaped blood red ruby embedded in it that covered her larynx. Sitting atop her skull was a headband of similar design, minus any gems, though her horn more than made up for that with an odd piece of jewelry she wore. A ring, not unlike the anti-magic one he had once wore, wrapped around the base of the boney protrusion, and from its loop a small glass shell was attached that covered it in a near perfect shape. The glass was tinted black near the bottom, and as it rose up to the tip turned into that blood red Schorl appeared to enjoy. It gave the horn a unique appearance, but if Slate were to hazard a guess, it lacked any kind of practical function. If the ring section did not prevent magic, the covering would surely block any spell she tried to cast.
If he was correct, the style of her garment was what was known as ‘Gothic Lolita’. It was an underutilized design choice in the realms of pony fashion, but it had its own charm. The purpose of it was to make the wearer appear younger, childish, invoking a sense of innocence. At the same time the style gave off an air of foreboding deviousness about it, projecting it in the use of dark colors and grim symbolism. Schorl’s dress projected this theme well enough, staving away from the grim imagery, but sticking to the dark color scheme.
“Miss Tourmaline,” one of the random earth stallions said getting in close to the mare, “What in Equestria is all this?”
“Do you not like it?” Schorl replied, grabbing her skirt in her hands and doing two half body rotations to further show off her outfit, “I thought it would be perfect for this occasion.”
“Well I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” the earth pony went onto say, stepping within reach of Schorl and her gown. He had enough nerve to reach out to the crystal mare, and rub the fabric of her detached sleeve between his fingers. “What is it made out of? Cotton? Silk?”
Slate felt a tinge of anger towards this stallion who dared touch Schorl before he had a chance. He did not see it as jealously, but simplistic animosity at another who was trying to make a move on a mare that he had claimed.
He wasn’t the only one unhappy with this earth pony’s brash advances, and before Schorl could answer his questions, her bodyguard intervened, and used his massive physical power to take the stallion by the shoulder, and force him back a few steps. The minotaur had entered with Schorl, and as always was doing his best to prevent anyone from getting close to her. Slate could for once appreciate Sartek’s intention to act as an eight foot tall, four-hundred pound chastity belt, as in this instance it worked in his favor. Perhaps the bull wasn’t as much as a hindrance as he believed, or at least he wouldn’t be after Slate had seduced Schorl, and established himself as the true master of the Society.
“I would love to tell you all about the details of my dress, but we have more pressing matters at hand.” Schorl said, watching her minotaur closely as he released the earth stallion, “And if we don’t get going all my preparations will go to waste. We have a party to attend after all.”
“Still…” Slate said, speaking up, “This seems like a bit much for an initiation party. I mean I doubt you get dressed up like this every time you get new members. Or… do you?”
Schorl chuckled, “Of course not, but this is more than a ordinary initiation ceremony.”
The crystal pony made an about face, spinning on the back half of one of her hooves, and walked out the door she had entered through. Her entourage followed immediately after her, and given no reason to stay behind, so did the sizable group of Schorl’s invited guests and their ‘plus ones’, leaving only the three dancers behind.
Schorl took a brief look back to make sure everyone took the hint, and then continued talking, “This is the first time since the establishment of the Society that we have welcomed such a large number of new members at once. Thus there is need for celebration, as well as a few precautions.”
“Precautions?” Bessie uttered, giving Slate reason to wonder how little she and the other tagalongs of the group knew about the situation they were currently in.
The cow’s single word query got her a stern “shh” from her employer, causing Schorl to giggle at her reprimand.
“It’s fine, Miss Buttercup. The girl is just curious. Nothing wrong with asking a question or two.”
“Okay… just as long as it’s not a bother.” Buttercup replied, giving her subordinate a glare as they walked side by side, directly behind the back of their gracious host.
“Not at all,” Schorl reaffirmed, “As you might have noticed, my club caters to a service that some would call… apprehensible. While not illegal, Equestria harbors very few strip clubs, and even fewer establishment such as mine.”
“What does that mean?” asked another of the un-informed members of the group.
“We also provide services to our elite members that go above and beyond a simple showing of flesh. For those that met the requirements needed to join our ranks, we also include things like the ability to rent time with a select group of mares and stallions we have gathered here to act as sexual servants, as well as provide use of our private facilities. This allows our members to explore their deepest desires in a safe, and secure environment.”
“Isn’t that… prostitution?” asked a feathered female, weary of the turn this conversation was taking. While peek shows and sex toys were perfectly legal, if considered taboo by most, sexual solicitation was truly against the princess’ royal law.
“You could say that,” Schorl answered without being coy about the topic, “But the truth is that the way we conduct business goes around the legalities of it. For starters, we don’t pay those who entertain our guests. Not directly at least. What we do is provide them with all the food, drink, and sexual interaction they might need. We even allow them housing within the walls of the Society if necessary. It’s not too far off from how the cow amongst us is compensated for her work.”
A good portion of the group turned to Bessie, and in turn she turned beet red. Unless you were part of the dairy industry, or had a curiosity to learn about their inner workings, bovine contracts were not commonly known about.
“Well… that is true.” said the cow with all eyes on her.
“And we also offer special classes to train our precious entertainers in skills that they can use in the outside world, and grant them opportunities to work for some of the most influential ponies in Equestria. So there is plenty incentive to serve our members, but since there is no money exchanging hands, it slides under what is considered an illegal act.”
Schorl spun a good tale, but even if what she said was true, it wouldn’t be correct. No matter how one cut it, prostitution was prostitution, and it didn’t matter how a pony was paid for spreading their legs. The cleverly crafted words were just for the purpose of presentation though, or maybe to weed out those who might ask one question too many. Still, he couldn’t say that she did a poor job at convincing people. Her charisma alone was enough to qualm most concerns, but it didn’t hurt that she spoke with complete conviction in what she said. Slate wouldn’t call himself a master at discerning lies, but he couldn’t hear any obvious tells. No awkward pauses, stuttering, or points where one would be able to pick apart her reasoning unless they had detailed knowledge of the law.
The real problem was, there was a possibility that she was telling the truth, or at least believed that she was telling the truth. All of what she said went along with her ideology that enslavement was actually good for the ponies forced into it, so for all she was concerned what she said was completely legitimate. Good that he was made aware of this quirk of hers sooner than later. If conversations with her were a maze of half-lies and convenient truths, he would have an easier time deciphering fact from fiction with this knowledge.
That wasn’t the only maze one could easily find themselves lost in within the boundaries of the Society either. He was probably the only one who noticed it, but the corridors they were being led through were likewise made to entangle and confuse those that wandered into them. Slate only noticed because after the amount of time he spent locked up, he wanted to be able to find his way around if he really did have to escape on his own accord. Therefore, the unicorn was counting his steps and the amount of turns, which allowed him to tell when at one point the group circled back to a point they had already walked through. Suddenly the minotaur made a lot more sense, not only as a bodyguard, but as a guide as well.
The entire race of hulking brutes had an innate ability to traverse labyrinthian structures with ease, and that talent would be invaluable to a pony who had made their facility too complex for the layout to be memorized by those who might want to find a way out. No wonder Schorl always kept him around all the time. Sartek could walk around for hours and never get lost, which could be used to make sure Schorl never lost her way herself, or he could do as he was right now to make certain no one could find the exit without his guidance. Slate had to admit, it was a clever use for a creature who had little other use than throwing his weight around and flexing his muscles.
The group had strolled about for a little while, with Schorl answering a few more questions from those who had little clue as to what was going on, the other potential members finding their ignorance amusing at this point. Simply questions about how the group functioned, or where they found ponies who were willing to exploit themselves for what felt like so little, the modesty within the minds of those still in the dark not allowing them to see the benefits of such a life as the one Schorl described. It continued like this till finally Schorl stopped in her tracks.
“I’m afraid the time for questions has come to a close.” she said, stifling a cute stallion who was about to open his mouth. “We have arrived.”
On one side of the hall was a door, coated in red velvet, and emitting the distinct sound of muffled classical music from behind its wooden form. Schorl only had to give Sartek a small nod to have the minotaur open the door for her guests, and reveal what was contained inside.
The room was dimly lit compared to the illuminated hallway, but Slate could make out many forms from within. Crowds of silhouettes gathered together, circling around things obscured by their bodies, hidden in shadow. With his eyes unadjusted, he couldn’t even tell if his merry band had drawn the attention of those within, but he was certain they were not ignored.
“My dear guests, don’t feel you have to wait for my permission to join in.” Schorl announced, “Enter, and enjoy.”
Even with Schorl’s express permission to join the party and confer with the other members, the group hesitated to go in. Some feared it would be seen as impolite to step one hoof into that room before she did, while others had more pressing concerns.
“I don’t think I want to be part of this…” said Bessie, not even sure why she had been brought to this place at this point. “This just isn’t my thing.” Others gave words of agreement, or nodded their heads, finding this whole experience jarring to say the least.
“Ah, I figured that might be the case,” Schorl replied to their reluctance, “I suppose many of you were brought here without being given any information about what took place inside. A professional hazard brought on by our secrecy. I can’t say I blame any of you, as this all might be too much to take in all at once.”
“Then why are we here?” asked another pony.
“If you wish to know, it’s because those who invited you thought you would make fine additions to our ranks. By the looks of you, I have to agree. However, if you have any doubts about participating in our activities, then I have planned ahead for that possibility.” The crystal pointed into the room, to a portion of the back wall that glowed in a soft pink light elevated above the other guests. “That spot right there indicates where the exit to the room is. If you go to it, you will find that a door is not too far away. If you feel that this is simply too much for you, or find yourselves becoming uncomfortable by the things you see, then you can go through there. On the other side is a waiting area where you can stay until things comes to a close, away from the festivities. If you see something you might like though, or something that interests you, no one will judge you for taking part or just observing.”
What the mare said was comforting to those who had no intention of participating in the deviations of the crystal mare’s facilities, but they still had their qualms about being the first to enter. It was going to take somepony else making the first move to get things moving along, and since Schorl wasn’t making a budge, it looked like Slate would have to act as an example.
He thought that, but the moment he went to lift a hoof, another bolted for the doorway. “For Celestia’s sake, don’t any of you have a spine between you?” said Carbon as he lead his bat pony by the hand. “It’s just a room full of ponies. No matter what’s going on inside, there is nothing to worry about.”
“That’s the spirit.” Schorl said with a smile as the unicorn strided past her. With that the imaginary barrier was shattered, and no pony else saw reason to refrain from entering, though some still got a few accusing glances from those who would have rather they were not lured into such a scandalous situation. Before Slate knew it, he had gone from being the first one entering to one of the last four remaining outside, the others being Buttercup and her two associates.
The cow was still have issues going in, steadfastly resisting Buttercup’s attempts to take her inside the same was Carbon took in his guest.
“Come on!” Buttercup demanded, yanking at the stubborn cow’s wrist.
“I don’t wanna!” Bessie bluntly declared.
“And why not?” said Buttercup, relenting, but clearly upset that she was making no headway.
At first Bessie gave no response, just peering into the darkness of the room. “I don’t… there is just something telling me not to go in there.”
“That’s not a good reason,” Buttercup said angrily, “I brought you here for a reason, to show off one of my best workers. If you can’t follow me around and do an easy task like this, how am I going to keep you as my secretary? Do you want to be fired?”
“No... But...” Bessie turned her nose to the floor, trying to avoid looking the earth mare in the eye.
Seeing the cow’s distress, her co-worker stepped in. “Look, it’s not going to be that bad.” said Widget. “We just go in there for an hour, eat some snacks, watch some sexy ponies shake their stuff, then go home and laugh it off.”
No matter how much the two ponies threatened or tried to coerce the cow, she remained resolved against entering. Slate didn’t need to stick around them, but he was starting to believe that it was time he made friends. It would help him in the future if he had a few allies, ponies he could count on, ones that owed him favors.
“Excuse me,” he said, taking a few steps towards Bessie, “But perhaps I could solve this little problem you’re having.”
Buttercup was not pleased that Slate was butting in, not really wanting to somepony else helping her because the situation itself was fairly embarrassing. If she couldn’t handle one of her guests, what did that say about her? The unicorn was here though, and he was showing no signs of wanting to mind his own business.
“Slate, was it?” she asked, having met quite a few new faces that evening. “Do you really think you can convince this girl to enter when I can’t?”
“No need to get aggravated,” Slate replied to the mare, sensing her annoyance, “I just want to prevent a scene. I don’t think you’d want the others to notice that you and your cow are the only two not joining the party.”
Slate stood right in front of Bessie, looking her up and down, examining the subtle nuances of her body. Her retracted posture, the slight quickening of her breathing, the way her knees quivered and pupils dilated. This went beyond mere modesty or apprehension, and into the realms of fear. That was fine though. Slate could handle emotional problems.
“Well, as much as I appreciate your concern,” Buttercup said delivering a scolding glance to Bessie, one sharp enough to make the cow recoil, “I’m not sure you can help with this. We’ve had this problem before, and when she gets this way there is no reasoning with her. How she ever came from a-”
“Miss, please!” Bessie interrupted, her stance changing instantly to a more defensive pose, her arms crossing in front of her breasts. Buttercup, in turn, let out a groan, but Slate could only laugh lightly at the sight, earning him his own stare from the farm mare.
“Sorry,” Slate apologized, “This situation is a little funnier when you’re not the one it’s happening to. Fret not though. If the lovely young calf here would allow me a moment of her time, I think that we can solve her bout of social anxiety “
“What makes you think you can calm her down when I can’t?” Buttercup asked, still trying to save face whether she was in need of assistance or not.
“Because, my dear,” Slate declared, with a profound sense of superiority in the matter, “I am a psychologist.” With that statement, he turned the entirety of his attention to the cow. “Bessie, before we begin, I want you to understand that you are in complete control here. If you begin to feel like my help is making you uncomfortable, then we can stop at any time. Is that fine with you?”
The cow gave an uncertain nod, believing about as much as her boss did that Slate was the cure for what ailed her.
“Good, then I’d like for you to do exactly as I say, without question. The more you think, the more anxious you’ll be. Now… take five… loooonnnngggg… deeeeeeppp… breathes.”
Bessie did as she was told, and inhaled slowly through her snout, holding her breath for a moment each time before exhaling in one big burst. After the five breaths were finished, she waited for Slate’s next instructions.
“Good, now if you will,” Slate brought up his hand, extending out his pointer finger, “Follow my finger’s every movement. Don’t let your eyes leave it for a second.”
Slate moved this finger left and right, up and down, keeping his face completely devoid of emotion. The cow, once more doing as she was told, followed it like a cat watching a toy mouse being dangled in front of it. It was amusing to watch the simple creature follow his command, of her own volition despite how ridiculous it was. It was true that clearing one’s thoughts was a good way to cope with negative thoughts in an immediate sense, but one didn’t have to follow nonsense like tracing the path of a finger to do that.
No, what this was a real test of how willful the girl was, and the answer was ‘not very’. She was resistant, and had a strict line that she would not cross, but it appeared she could be easily talked into anything that did not breach that boundary. All Slate had to do was tell her she was in control, and take little baby steps, to take all control away from her.
“I’m going to ask you a series of questions,” Slate said, continuing his hand movements, “Answer them quickly, honestly, and to the point while you keep your eye on my finger. Understand?”
“Yes,” Bessie said, having locked onto the tip of said finger.
“I want to find out what makes you feel calm, makes you feel safe. Is there a place where you feel safe? Where nothing can harm you?”
“There is a meadow near the farm,” she said without hesitation.
“Good, good, and what about it makes you feel safe?”
“I… well...”
“You’re hesitating. Remember to answer quickly and honestly.”
Bessie gave an extended blink, but then did as she was told. “I grew up on the farm and use to play there all the time. I would spend hours in the meadow, lying in the sun, chewing on the grass, and playing with the other calves.”
“Ah, I understand. Your mother worked at the farm you work at now as well. Your family’s loyalty to her must be appreciated. Could you do me a favor, and close your eyes for a moment?”
Bessie shut her eyes, letting her eyelids rest and relax.
“Good, now I would like for you to think about that meadow, and all the good times you’ve had there.” As he said these words, Slate’s horn began to glow. Those watching the two could easily notice this, and Buttercup was about to ask what he was doing, but Slate preemptively sent his extended finger in front of her face to keep her silent. “I’m certain that the meadow has a distinct smell. Keep your eyes closed, focus on that place, and remember the smell of flowers, fresh grass, and morning dew.”
As the cow relaxed, and focused on her happy place, the unicorn worked his magic on the girl. It was not the kind of mind control magic that he usually performed on others to immediately transform them into whatever he wished them to be, but instead some more common psychiatric magic. As she thought about the scents that the meadow held, he sparked the sensory glands in her nose to pick up on those thoughts, and make the smells real to her. Aromatherapy was a common practice in Slate’s field, with some earth pony psychologists lighting scented incenses or the like before a session to put their patients at ease. Unicorns however could take it a step further, and make ponies relive certain past experiences if need be by sparking powerful memories.
As the cow’s lips begun to curl up into a smile of her own volition, he knew that the spell was working as planned, and he could proceed. “Now that you are comfortable, let’s get to the root of the problem. What is it that is keeping you from going into the party?”
The cow did not answer immediately, her smile lessening when the question was asked, but after a few seconds she said, “I’m afraid.”
“Okay, but what are you afraid of?”
“Please don’t make me say it…” Bessie said, her calm wavering.
“I understand it might be a bit uncomfortable, but in order to understand what it is that will help you, I need to know the problem.”
“It’s… not easy to say. It’s really embarrassing, considering what I am.”
“And by that you mean a cow?” Slate questioned, receiving a nod in. “Well then, would it make you feel uncomfortable if I took a guess?”
“I… don’t think so…”
“Ok then, how about…”
Slate had to make a connection of what he knew about cows, what he knew about the Society, and what he knew about Bessie. While there could have been plenty of things that would have made Bessie not want to go in there, including the mere fact that the Society was portrayed as a glorified brothel by Schorl, there was one thing that seemed to stick out more than others. From the way she acted in the presence of bare, to the clothing she wore, to her strangely uncommon job for a cow at a dairy farm, and finally connecting it to the fact that it would be considered embarrassing to her race, he came to a solid conclusion.
“My dear, you wouldn’t happen to be suffering from gymnophobia, would you?” Slate stated with certainty.
“What?” Bessie asked, confused at the word.
“It means that you have a fear of nudity. You don’t like to be naked, or see others naked.”
Slate’s answer made Bessie open her eyes, Slate killing his spell before she could see it, and then sequentially tilt her head away from the unicorn as she gave him a sideways glance. “Is it… that easy to tell?”
“It was just a lucky guess. I will say, it is odd that a cow would have a phobia of that sort.”
“Yes… it is.” Bessie admitted.
“Her mother is one of the best cows on my farm too,” Buttercup interjected, “A champion level milk maker.”
The words from the earth mare made Bessie wince, and once more Slate had to step in. “Miss Buttercup, please. We need to be considerate of this girl’s needs. But…”
“But?” repeated Buttercup.
“I do think I have a solution to this problem, if Bessie will allow me to continue.”
“If… you think it will help…” the cow said, her reluctance returning.
“Good, then close your eyes one more time, and I’ll walk you through the next step.”
Bessie complied, closing her eyes once more, hoping he would take her back to the meadow in a similar fashion as he did before. The way he spoke somehow made her feel like she was at home, and not in this frightening place.
With her eyes shut once more, Slate began working his magic again. He wasn’t using the same spell as before in order to make her recall something comforting. That was just a trick he did in order to gain Bessie’s trust. This time he was he was going to use a more direct approach.
Let’s see… Slate thought to himself, Where to start? How about we lower those adrenaline levels? With the use of another of his psychological spells, the unicorn tapped into a small part of Bessie’s brain, and slowed down the cow’s racing adrenal gland, bringing the steady flow of the chemical to a much more manageable trickle.
This showed immediate results, as Bessie’s body stopped shaking and her breathing stabilized. She probably didn’t notice it herself, the recent calming exercises leading her to believe it was completely natural, but the effects of this basic spell was much greater than those minor acts could ever achieve.
That’s good, but I can do better. Proceeding with his mental manipulation, Slate now aimed for another naturally produced chemical; serotonin. By making her body produce more of this substance, he could induce a state of happiness upon Bessie, and make her more malleable. The alteration was no worse than any pill, stimulant, or suppressant that an earth pony doctor would prescribe, and one-hundred percent effective so long as nothing caused the girl undue trauma or duress, which would make her chemicals fluctuate out of control and break the temporary changes he had made.
“Now Bessie, I want you to listen to me, and repeat what I say.” Slate instructed, moving behind the cow. Without so much as a word, he placed his hands on her shoulder, getting a slight twitch from the unexpected action, and begun to message her tense muscles. “There is nothing to be afraid of in that room.”
“There is nothing to be afraid of in that room.”
“There is nothing scary about naked ponies.”
“There is nothing scary about naked ponies.”
“Nudity and sex are completely natural.”
“Nudity and sex are completely natural.”
“And so long as nopony makes me get naked, I can handle this.”
“And so long as nopony makes me get naked, I can handle this.”
“That’s a good girl.” Slate said, shifting a bit of her hair off her forehead so he could plant a small peck on her forehead. The kiss was, symbolically, like a promise made to the cow, confirming that nothing bad would happen to her. The stipulation at the end gave her an area of tolerance in where she knew her safety was insured, and the beginning was like a mantra she could repeat if she started to feel threatened. With all of this in place, and her chemicals regulated, Slate felt his job was finished. “You did a great job, Bessie, and did everything I asked of you. Do you think you could do us all a favor and go inside now?”
Bessie opened her eyes, and looked into the dark room that surely had a bunch of ponies exposing their skin in a variety of ways she couldn’t even count. Yet, she felt no more fear, no unease at what waited for her inside. It was like her every worry had vanished into thin air. “I… I think I can. You’ll be in there too, won’t you?”
“Yes, and if you start to feel insecure, you can come to me and I’ll do whatever I can to make you feel better.”
“Thank you.” She said, nuzzling the hand that remained on her shoulder with her face.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, pushing her forward gently, “Now run along, while me and your boss have a chat.”
“Ok,” Bessie said cheerfully, walking into the party room without a care in the world, leaving both her boss and her co-worker in awe.
However, the crystal mare near the door didn’t share the same surprise at the results of Slate’s involvement, and now that he was finished, she decided it was time she joined in as well. “Widget, could you go after her and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble? I believe that your employer, Mr Slate, and I need to speak in private.”
“Sure, no problem.” Widget answered, having worked with Buttercup long enough to know when he wasn’t needed. He jogged off into the room, yelling “Hey Bessie, wait up!” as he caught up with the cow before she got too far.
The moment the two got out of earshot, Schorl addressed the unicorn stallion. “That was some fine work Mr. Slate, but I do have to ask. Was that your rumored ‘mind control magic’ in action that I saw?”
“Mind control magic?” Buttercup said, clueless as to what had transpired in front of her, “Was that what that was?”
Slate put his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket and shook his head, “No, it wasn’t. If I had resorted to that, then it would have taken much less time to get the same results. And I would have had a little fun with the girl in the process.”
“Fun?” Bessie asked, her curiosity building with each word spoken from the other two ponies. “What kind of fun?”
“The kind of fun where Bessie would have walked in there completely naked, after she stripped herself down and let me touch all the parts of her she likes to keep hidden.”
“You can do something like that?” Buttercup asked wide eyed.
“It appears Mr. Slate can do many things, if what he says is true.” Schorl answered, “But then I have to ask, what did you do to make the cow overcome her fear.”
“Overcome is an overstatement,” Slate stated, “She’s just focusing on some happier thoughts at the moment, with the assistance of spells that do the same thing psychotropics would do. Honestly, it could break at any moment, and won’t last for more than a few hours regardless, unlike my more effective spell.”
“So why didn’t you use that?” Buttercup asked, still not really keeping up with the conversation.
“Because Miss Tourmaline’s associates distinctly explained to me that that spell was ‘worthless’.”
“There are certain issues with it that make it a less than suitable way to get the results the Society would want.” said Schorl, “However, this new form of magic sounds like it would have a great deal of value in taming slaves. We might be able to use it on the entirety of your employees to make them happy little breeders, as we discussed.”
“I think so,” Buttercup agree, “And I might finally be able to make Bessie actually useful if Sla- Mr. Slate could work with her to get her to show her tits in public?”
“Excuse me, what is going on here?” Slate asked, now being the one in the dark.
“Miss Buttercup and I are working on an agreement that should be profitable to the both of us.” Schorl explained. “The minotaur I employ would love to have a few girls around that they could have free access too, in order to relieve the stress of the daily grind.”
“And cows tend to produce much more, and better tasting, milk when they are pregnant.” Buttercup added in. “So I provide my cattle as sex slaves for her bulls.”
“And we provide Miss Buttercup with all the high quality milk she needs, with the agreement that she pays for all the expenses of the breeding and milking process.”
“I see..” said Slate, not so much concerned with the well being of the cows they wanted to turn into to milk making machines, but with how they wanted to impose upon him by getting him involved.
“We can discuss it all later,” Schorl said, sensing Slate’s unenthusiastic attitude, “But don’t think you wouldn’t be compensated for your efforts. The Society would be very appreciative of having a psychologist of your caliber on staff, helping the slaves ease into their new roles and cope with those little emotional issues that come from a life of undeserved ‘liberties’. For the time being though, let’s just join the others and enjoy ourselves. I assure you that there is much in the party to please anypony.”
“Very well, after you, ladies.” The two mares exchanged giggles at Slate’s manners, and walked ahead of him, allowing him a brief moment to roll his eyes before following in after them. His future activities at the Society, at least what Schorl had planned for him, were beginning to sound more and more like work. If she really thought he was going to put up with being used as a pawn, the mare had another thing coming. If there was one thing Slate couldn’t stand, it was having to needlessly exert himself to get what he wanted.
These were the first words Slate heard upon entering the party room, coming from what would have been an unlikely source, had he been anywhere else in Equestria. Here in the Trainers’ Society, it felt as common as seeing an earth pony pinking vegetables from the dirt.
The questioner was one such earth pony, fur pink in hue and hair the color of fresh grown grass. She was clearly one of the Society’s slaves, as the clothing she wore was nothing more than a black leotard that hugged her body so tightly that her nipples could be seen bumping out through it, along with the cleft of her vaginal passage. Not only that, but it had been customized to only come up to the halfway point of her breasts, leaving everything above those perky nipples bare, with plenty of cleavage on display behind the bit of material that was stretched between the two mammaries. If not for the red bow wrapped around her throat, and a matching one at the base of her tail, the mare might as well had been strutting around naked.
Aside her was a sign stating her purpose, announcing that a drawing would take place later during the party, with a variety of prizes offered to the lucky winners that fit the Society’s general theme. Kits composed of bondage equipment and sex toys, coupons for free slave training courses, expensive wine bottles of the caliber of Canterlot Castle’s own private stock, and a mystery prize presented as the top prize of the night were just a few things being dangled for those who felt like pressing their luck. Slate himself would have been tempted himself by a few of the items listed, had it not been the price of the lots. One hundred bits per ticket, a cost that more than likely exceeded most of the items up for grabs, and was only affordable by those with bottomless pockets. That, coupled with the fact that Slate hadn’t held a bit since he had been abducted, compounded together to put a bad taste in his mouth that he could not participate, even if he wasn’t technically Schorl’s prisoner.
“Mr. Slate…” Schorl said, as if sensing that her name had been uttered in the recesses of the stallion’s mind. She had stayed near the door with Slate as they closed, the other guests wading into the sea of other ponies present without them, “You can’t be so easily distracted by the first thing you see. If you do, then you’ll miss out on most of the other attractions I’ve prepared.”
“Sorry, but when a spectacle is just presented before me, I find it hard not to gawk.” Slate replied, examining the girl further, noticing her flowery cutiemark, and determining by it and the lack of enthusiasm she showed in her task that handing out tickets was not her forte.
“You aren’t gawking.” Schorl said bluntly, “You are inspecting.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I would appreciate it if you were merely stunned by this mare’s attractiveness, but that isn’t what you’re doing.” Schorl said without doubt, assuming she could guess the machinations of Slate’s mind. “What you are doing it dissecting her with your brain scalpels.”
“My… what?” Slate replied, pulled away from his analysis by Schorl’s strange metaphor. “What is that suppose to even mean?”
“Come on… for one as smart as you the interpretation shouldn’t be hard to understand.” As she spoke, the crystalline mare left his side and went to that of the earth pony’s, her elaborate dress contrasting greatly with the simple garb the lesser female specimen was wearing. “But if you really can’t decipher the meaning, I’d be glad to explain… if you’re willing to play a game with me.”
“A… game?” Slate asked, raising a brow, “What kind of game?” This kind of behavior seemed a little strange of Schorl. She usually tried to put on an air of professionalism, and from Slate’s experiences with her, she never was so playful. Certainly she was baiting him into some sort of scenario, but the bait was just too delicious not to bite. “Will I be rewarded for playing along?”
“I suppose I could arrange something for your participation.” Schorl said, putting the fingertips of one of her hands to her lips, giving a small giggle from behind them while looking away from Slate with what could only be described as a look of ‘mischievous innocence’, proving to Slate that the mare was capable of disguising her nature if she really wanted to, at least to the average pony.
“Very well, what is this game of yours?” Slate said, readying himself for anything.
“Nothing difficult,” Schorl said, wrapping an arm around the earth pony from behind, placing her hand right over the mare’s cutie mark, pulling her close enough to make their bodies touch, hip to hip and breast to breast. “All I want you to do is tell me three things about this mare, be they important details, or minor observations.”
After explaining the rules to her little game, Schorl’s hand traveled away from the earth mare’s hip to explore the other curvey bits of her body, slipping between her thighs and up her waist to her breast, never lingering in one spot for too long. The earth mare herself appeared unnerved by this attention, having had a look of dread in her eyes from the moment Schorl made her the center of attention, and an increased breathing pace since the touches had begun. No doubt she believed that she was being put on a pedestal, and that if she failed to please either the crystal mare or her male companion, she would be punished for it. Of all the Society slaves Slate had met thus far, this one seemed the least indoctrinated, or maybe she had just been out of her element. Whatever the reason, Slate was still wondering what all of this was about.
Was Schorl testing his abilities yet again? Was she testing the mare, and thus using him as some random variable in a training exercise? With as calculating as Schorl wanted to make herself out to be, Slate didn’t believe this was some spontaneous act constructed on the fly to entice him. Still, there really was no downside to this small diversion. Even if he failed at satisfying the crystal mare, which he heavily doubted would be the case, what would a few moments of his time really hurt?
“Well, for starters…” he said, bringing a hand to his lower jaw, pinching his chin slightly as he rested that arm’s elbow in the palm of his other hand, “While the fact that she is one of your slaves is so evident that I wouldn’t even count it as something noteworthy enough to be credited towards my goal, her gestures towards your advances tell me that she is fresher meat than those you’ve provided me as entertainment in my room. However, seeing as she’s not chained to the floor, or otherwise bound to one spot, you seem confident enough with her that you don’t expect her to run off at a moment’s notice. So with that in mind, while not knowing your taming process, I would say that she must be roughly halfway to three-fourths the way through your conditioning program.”
For a moment, it looked as if he had stunned the crystal mare with how on the nose his assumptions were. Her hand has stopped it’s wandering, and there was no immediate comeback to his theory. Schorl usually was quick with her ‘witty’ retorts. It was a shame to see her crumple before him on the opening act of their game, but what did he expect from a submissive mare pretending to act dominant.
“Am I wrong?” he asked, pressing the point that he knew he wasn’t.
“No, you’re not wrong.” Schorl said, her smile wavering in attempt to bluff that she hadn’t lost ground in this contest. “We plucked this one from a quaint town called Ponyville a few months back, and introduced her to her hidden desire to serve her betters.”
“L-Lady Schorl, please…” The pink mare said weakly, unhappy that the crystal mare so freely gave away the location of her home to one of the Society’s members.
Schorl gave a sigh to that, and then with little warning, clamped down on one of the earth pony’s modest sized breasts with the hand that had until then been gently gliding over her body. The earth mare’s body tensed up, with her clenching her eyes and mouth instantly to stifle the more obvious signs of the pain she felt from the punishing grip.
“As you see though,” Schorl said with a condescending tone, while moving the mound of meat around in a slow, agonizing rotation. “While this one does know her place, we haven’t yet eroded every bit of will from her head. She should know by now that talking out of turn is a no-no, isn’t that right my dear?”
“Yes!” The earth mare announced clearly, her pain giving way to a hint of arousal. Schorl trained her slaves well it seemed.
Relaxing her grip, Schorl got behind the mare. “So first point to you Mr. Slate. What’s next?” she asked way relocating her free hand around her captive’s neck, caressing the bit of ribbon that acted as her collar.
What’s next was easy, since Schorl had just given him enough information to confirm another one of his suspicions. “She’s an agricultural pony by trade, one who grows flowers and other forms of vegetation.” Ponyville was some backwater town with little to offer the rest of Equestria outside of its produce, so if this mare had a cutiemark with flowers on it, little assumption had to be made on what her career was.
“Right again,” Schorl said, seemingly more pleased with this response. She expressed that pleasure by licking at the nape of the earth mare’s neck, practically slurping at the spot between her shoulder blades. The girl reacted to the wet sensation of the other mare tasting her with quivers and heavy panting.
The involuntary nature of it all was in it’s own way delightful, as watching one pony at the mercy of another had many erotic prospects, but Slate put these pleasant thoughts out of mind. They were only attempts to derail him, he was sure. Even when Schorl slid a hand underneath the earth mare’s leotard, entering through one of the holes accommodating the legs of the lovely, youthful pony, he didn’t allow himself to waver.
“You still have one more detail to reveal Mr. Slate. Anything at all will do, of course.” With the fabric of the pink mare’s leotard as tight and thin as it was, there was no mistaking what Schorl was doing with her fingers down below. The way her index and middle finger moved, one going up as the other going down, moving with the rhythmic pattern of a pair of pistons from behind the thin layer of fabric. “Anything will do.”
She said “Anything would do”, but Slate understood what that really meant. “Impress me”. The crystal mare sure had high expectations of her potential, and if he had his way future, master. Why not humor her a bit, since it was a easy task to do so.
“Anything at all?” he said jokingly, “Then could it be something as simple as Daisy here having pink fur?”
What the stallion said caused the earth mare’s entire body the tense up even worse than before, and an expression of fear to form on her face. “Lady Tourmaline told you-?!” There was more to her outburst than those four words, but the rest were lost in a sudden cry of climax as the mare dropped to her knees, the crystal pony having used the burst of emotions to initiate an orgasm, setting it off buy driving her fingers deeply as she could into the other mare, pressing her fingers against the inner walls of the fleshy tunnel along the way.
With the mare now grounded, Schorl stood alone on her side of the small area she and Slate had made for one another at the entrance, her fingers coated in the lewd juices of her victim. Yet, despite her having given the earth mare an unwanted surge of pleasure, Schorl didn’t appear to be very pleased. Surely she had noticed what had happened in the exchange, and just how thoroughly Slate had won their contest. Giving the fluids on her hand a look of disdain, avoiding all eye contact with Slate, she uttered a sound of disappointment.
“What’s the matter?” Slate asked, grinning with glee at his victory. “Didn’t expect me to be able to fish out the girl’s name by just looking at her?” It was a fairly easy trick, actually, seeing that the girl’s cutie mark had been made bare for the world to see. Many ponies in the world had marks that coincided with their names, and the flower on her rear end was a daisy. He didn’t know for sure if she had a single word name, or if it were something like ‘Daisy Dew’ or ‘Whoopsie Daisy”, but calling a pony by a single word name wasn’t too abnormal. There was always the possibility that he could have been wrong though, so he did say it in a way that made it appear like he was just being playful. If questioned about the odd name, then he could have easily backpedalled and said that he felt the name suited her, but that he wasn’t really serious.
Being spot on as he was, there was no need to do any of that, but it was always good to have a backup plan in place. “So… do you intend to stand there forlorn all day, or are you ready to give me the reward you promised?”
Schorl’s eyes rolled, and from her lips she uttered, “Rewards only belong to winners.”
“What?” Slate said confused, the crystal mare implying that he had not completed the objects he was given.
“For somepony as observant as you declare you are, you don’t seem to notice when you’re being tricked.”
“Being tricked… Are you trying to tell me that none of my observations were correct?” All he could think was that he had failed, but Schorl had confirmed his assumptions were correct. Could she have lead him astray from the start in order to set him up to fail. If so, then was it her intent for him notice that she was falsely confirming his answers.
A scowl started to form on Slate’s face at the thought that Schorl would outright lie to him, especially since it flew against the all the rules established for the game. Felt less like he lost, so much as her having challenged him to something only to lead him astray for a “gotcha” moment. It was entirely aggravating, once more sending Slate into a poor opinion of the purple mare.
“Mr. Slate…” Schorl said, bending over to grab the earth mare, who was still recovering from her climax. “I’m sure you realized what I have done. You might have gotten every answer correct, but in doing that, and looking for the most difficult bits of information you could find, you failed my test.”
Slate was really confused by now. It seemed he was wrong about what Schorl was doing, as she declared that he was completely right. She still claimed that she tricked him in some way though, but not in a way that he could easily deduce, leaving him to bewildered as to how exactly she had done so.
“Ok… I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. What did you do?” Slate asked, knowing that he would never get answers unless he did so.
“Oh. So your perception does have its limits. I have to say, that’s actually refreshing.” said Schorl with a smile as she brought the slave mare back to her shaking hooves.
“Enough playing coy. What was this all about?”
“Fine, you deserve answers. This was all to see just how much time you were willing to waste.”
“How much time I was…?”
“I’ve set up an entire party for you and the others, with so many delightful things to participate in.” Schorl said, pointing off to the entirety of the rest of the party, where all the other ponies were off enjoying the amenities the Society had to offer, none of them paying any mind to the hijinks happening at the room’s entrance. “Yet you got so easily distracted by the door girl that you’ve spent over fifteen minutes here staring at her. It’s rather insulting, if I must say.”
“Are you expecting some sort of apology, or something?”
”No, but you should have realized quickly that my challenge had no merit behind it. The goal was so devoid of meaning that there couldn’t have been any reason behind it. Still, you dove right into it, and went so far to give the most complex details one could only derive from looking at a pony, when all you needed was something as simple as her eye color to end the game. Unless you have intentions with this mare, and I really don’t think you do, then that’s far more information you would ever need about some random pony.”
Slate’s scowl faded slightly, a little more satisfied by what she had to say. Or more, he was more satisfied with his interpretation of Schorl’s little lecture. To be honest, Schorl could never admit that she lost in front of a subordinate like the slave in her arms, thus she had to make up a reason that he failed. She even admitted that he would have succeeded if not for this scenario, so in the end he was victorious. Just like he had with the mare’s name, Schorl had left open a backdoor to step out of if she got cornered. If Slate couldn’t name three details, then she would have said he failed for more legitimate reasons, but since he did, she had to resort to this cheap tactic. What could he do but play along?
“Ok then ‘Lady Tourmaline’, you got me. I do have to ask though. If your intent was to show me that I‘m wasting time, then why did you create a test that wasted my time even more? Wouldn’t we both be better off if you had told me these were your feelings instead?”
“What purpose would simply telling you have served? It would have came off as if I was nagging at best, and showing by example is always the best. Besides, this method of education is much more amusing for all parties involved.”
Slate could hardly agree with Schorl, seeing how he got the short end of the stick in this situation, but in order to bring this to a close, he would allow the crystal pony to believe she had won. It was her club, for now at least, and thus she needed to be the one who came out on top.
“Ok, Ok, I get it.” replied Slate, a smirk returning to his muzzle, “I need to use my time in more productive ways. I’m sure there are dozens of other activities that will be more satisfying than ogling this mare all night. So if teacher would excuse me, I think…”
“Not so fast,” Schorl cut in, “While you may not have figured out what I wanted you to on your own, I will admit the number of important details about this mare you deciphered was impressive, and you did technically win the game, by the rules I had been given. Such ability should be rewarded.”
“Oh? Then what reward shall I receive?” asked Slate, as if this gesture wasn’t admittance that Schorl was just feigning her motivations.
The mare looked to her bodyguard, who had been standing blocking the door since the moment it closed, and gave him a slight nod. In return, the minotaur reached to his side to grab a small pouch hanging off his belt. Sartek handed it to the earth pony, who in turn hastened on shaky legs to the table that held a deposit box for the ticket payment, and a roll of red tickets.
After dropping the bag inside the box and closing the lid, the sound of coins hitting a much larger pile of metal tokens echoing from within, Daisy tore a ticket from the roll, and presented it to Slate. “G-Good luck sir.”
Slate took the ticket in hand, and looked from the earth mare to Schorl. “Well, if you think this is fair to all the others who paid for their tickets.”
“It’s fine. It’s just one little ticket. What harm could it do?”
“Of course.” Slate replied, feeling this was all too convenient. With the minotaur having a bag of gold at the ready, and Schorl having consented to him receiving his free chance at the prizes on display, the crystal mare had to have plotted this scenario in advance. If not for him, then for somepony else who would have spent too much time at the front door. No matter. It just meant that Slate was right all along to ‘waste his time’, as now he could earn something for doing absolutely nothing, and there was nothing he liked better than being rewarded for the labors of somepony else.
“Now that that’s settled, I think you have places to be.” Schorl said, giving Sartek a glance, and gesturing him to follow her as she herself headed into the party. “Please, enjoy yourself to the fullest.”
“I believe I will,” said Slate, not sticking around to watch them vanish into the crowd. Instead, he walked into the opposite direction, looking at the number on his ticket. “#07051986, huh?” Surely that was not the number of tickets sold that night. If it were, then the Society would have made almost three-fourths of a billion bits in a single night, and that was preposterous. More likely that they were holdovers from previous events like this, or simply numbered at ran-
Slate stopped his line of thought, and then chuckles at what he was doing. “I hate to say it, but Schorl may be right after all. I am being a bit too analytical about everything, aren’t I?” He shoved the ticket into his pocket, removing any more temptation to ‘dissect it’, as Schorl called it. “Very well, take two. Let’s have some fun… and mingle.”