> Just You and Me and Our Personal Demons
>  by garatheauthor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Just You and Me and Our Personal Demons
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Fleur De Lis looked around the room, seeing the cacophony of lust and crudeness taking place around her. 

A table over, there was a mare seated on a stallion’s lap, receiving anal. Her face shifted between an inexperienced discomfort and bouts of intense pleasure.

There was a stallion receiving head, in a corner booth, from a pair of what looked like twins. They made an abundant symphony of slurps, grunts, and all sorts of other noises that Fleur had learned to associate with her visits to the Clocktower. Her gaze shifted away from them as the stallion winked at her, as if silenting asking her if she’d like to join. She very much did not.

There was bondage and impact play, roleplay and petplay, and every fetish that any pony could possibly imagine.

Yet, it was all so boring, so pedestrian, so mechanical  as if these ponies were just going through the motions. There was no legitimate passion, no fury, no genuine excitement in the act. It was like masturbation in a way, just a duty to get off, dump your load, and move on with the day’s affairs with a clear mind.

“So, are you looking for a Dom?” a stallion asked.

Fleur looked over to see a green pegasus approach. He was cute. Well, except for that manecut. Poor dear really needed to see a professional. Normally, he seemed like the kind of lay she’d go for, but she was burnt out tonight. She had a specific itch and nopony here seemed capable of scratching it.

She offered a tight smile, brushing the edge of her hoof over the bell on her red collar, giving it a single jingle. “What gave it away? The collar?”

He chuckled and joined her at the table. “You know, a mare like yourself shouldn’t have to be alone in a place like this.”

“I’m well aware,” Fleur said. “But I have a very particular appetite tonight and I’m finding it so difficult to sate.”

The Dom smirked and leaned over the table. “Maybe I could help you sate it?”

“Maybe we could start with your name?” Fleur suggested, pawing at the table.

The stallion chuckled. “Evergreen Grove.”

“Fleur De Lis,” she said, picking up her little plastic cup of the house red and taking a sip. It was needlessly sweet.

“So, what are you looking for?” Evergreen asked.

Fleur’s gaze shifted away from him, settling upon the anal couple. She noticed that the mare no longer seemed contented by the stallion’s performance. Understandable, considering he was an amateur. Yet, while so obviously distressed, she didn’t ring her bell. She assumed that some ponies were content with mediocrity.

She decided to flick her own bell again, in the spirit of her fellow sub, jostling it for a second time. Thankfully, this unsanctioned bell didn’t seem to carry the same cautionary heft as those actually licensed by the society so she was largely ignored.

Still it seemed to be noticed by the stallion who cocked a brow.

“I didn’t know they let submissives wear their bells like that,” he said. “Isn’t that supposed to be around your tail?”

Fleur offered a tight smile. “What the staff doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

She was only passively aware of the bell actually hanging from her dock. A sad concession to have to make to be let in through the front door. 

Still there was no reason to let her companion know she had one. It was more fun that way.

The stallion seemed uneasy. Poor dear probably didn’t know what to do with somepony like herself. How often did a submissive so fraglently flaunt the rules? Especially in a place like this.

“How proficient are you with rope play?” Fleur asked, returning her attention to Evergreen.

He bit his lip. “I’ve done a little bondage every now and then. So I should be fine as long as you’re not looking for shibari.”

Fleur gave her bell a third jostle. “How comfortable are you with marking a mare, using a cane or some other kind of spanking implement?”

The stallion paled. “Well uh… I suppose I’ve never really done that before but if that’s what you’re looking for…”

“And breathplay?” Fleur asked, feeling her stomach drop. 

Another wasted encounter.

“Never really entertained the idea,” he said.

A fourth jostle from Fleur. “Be honest with me, Evergreen. Is your idea of domination simply instructing a mare to fellate you while bearing a smug sense of superiority?”

The stallion swallowed a lump in his throat and opened his mouth to speak, yet no words came forth.

Fleur nodded and gave her little bell a fifth jostle. “Well I believe that signals an end to our conversation, mon amie.” She batted her eyelashes. “You are not the kind of stallion I am looking for tonight.”

“W-what?” he asked.

“Clockface,” Fleur explained, “I believe that’s what five chimes represent.” She nodded towards a lonely mare off in the corner. She looked more his speed. “Try your lines on her. She looks more appropriate for you.”

The stallion nodded slowly before sliding out of his seat and beating a hasty little retreat with his tail between his legs.

Fleur looked down at her drink and sighed. She felt the tiniest nucleus of guilt as she took a generous sip.

He didn’t seem like a bad stallion, but her patience had faded an hour ago. When you had a craving for creme brulee, an ice cream sandwich would not suffice.

“What are you drinking tonight?”

Fleur’s ears perked up and she saw another stallion approach. He was short, stout, and almost feeble looking. His coat was a dirty-shade of grey and he was rail thin. The only thing that salvaged his runtish appearance was his mane: his greyish-green hair cut in what modern stylists distastefully called the Sombra Junior’s Manecut, with its shaved sides and a long boisterous top. Perfect for any archaic paramilitary youth organization or modern day hipsters.

Still, a stylish manecut would not save him as Fleur rested the tip of her hoof against that little bell, readying herself for yet another five note refusal.

“The house red,” Fleur said, studying him.

He smirked. “I hear they have a fantastic vintage on their grape juice.” He leaned a little closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I even heard that some of it is so old that it accidently started to ferment in its bottles.”

Fleur snickered. “I did notice that today’s batch was only very sweet instead of overwhelming sweet.”

“Well, when everyone can enjoy the novelty of guzzling a half pint of vaginal fluid, it’s hard to push the regular stuff,” Stygian teased. “Though I would recommend trying their bottle of scotch. The most expensive ounce of ginger beer you’ll ever have in your life.”

Of course a stallion with a manecut like that would be into ginger beer.

“What’s your name?” Fleur asked.

The stallion smirked. “Stygian. And you?”

Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Fleur De Lis,” she replied. “Tell me… what do you do for a living, Stygian?”

“Author and journalist. I work for the Canterlot Cooperative.”

Fleur snorted. “That socialist rag?”

“I see you don’t think very highly of journalism,” Stygian said, nodding towards her collar. “Along with other things.”

“I do when it doesn’t try and instigate violence,” Fleur grumbled. “All you preach is strike this, walk outs that, and unionization. You make it very difficult for an honest business mare to make it in this day and age.”

Stygian flagged down a waiter, a stallion who was sissyed up something fierce. He ordered a bottle of the house red and an additional glass before returning his gaze to Fleur.

“Well I subscribe to an alternative world view,” Stygian said. “I care little about how the shopkeeper can finance their luxuries and am more concerned about how the common pony can make end’s meet.”

“Luxuries?” Fleur asked, cocking her brow and giving her bell its first iritatted jostle.

“I mean you are at a BDSM dungeon on a work night.” Stygian motioned with his hoof. “The only ponies who can do that are the ones who don’t have to worry about making it to their nine-to-five in the morning. I’d say that’s a little privileged. Would you not?”

Fleur sighed. “Point taken.” Then her gaze narrowed. “But doesn’t that make you privileged as well.”

“Insanely privileged.” He chuckled and motioned towards her with his hoof. “My job doesn’t care if I submit a report at two in the morning or six in the evening, just as long as I make my deadline. Which is beneficial because my best writing comes at night when I’m all dark and brooding.”

“And are you dark and brooding at the moment?” Fleur asked.

Stygian hummed, looking at the clock on the wall. “Give it about another fifteen minutes. I’d say it’s more late evening and not quite night time yet.” He then sighed and returned his attention to Fleur. “So, what are you looking for?”

“What makes you think I’m looking for something?” Fleur asked.

“Well no one comes to a BDSM dungeon to sample expensive grape juice and insult a stream of stallions who attempt to flirt with her,” Stygian commented.

“They weren’t up to my standards,” Fleur said, pursing her lip.

Stygian smirked. “Then what exactly are your standards, mon amie?”

The bastard butchered her native tongue.

Yet, she held back from flicking her bell for a second time. There was something… intriguing about him that she couldn’t quite place a hoof on.

“I’m looking for a stallion who has the skill set and attitude necessary to wipe the bitchy little smile off my face,” she said, smirking. “Someone who doesn’t clam up when they encounter a bratty mare with an attitude problem. A stallion who will make me regret every little insult and snide comment that has come from my lips over the past two hours.”

“So, a stallion who will beat you and fuck you like a whore?” Stygian asked. “Am I reading that right?”

Fleur nodded and motioned around the room. “Exactly… but it’s so hard to find a stallion like that in these circles.”

“Everypony needs to learn somewhere,” Stygian said.

The sissy returned, placing a bottle of ‘wine’ upon the table, along with a plastic glass. Stygian thanked him, then poured himself a glass before topping off Fleur’s.

“So, may I endure your interview?” Stygian asked, twisting the bottle shut again.

Fleur smirked, resting both hooves upon the table. “Do you have experience with bondage?”

Stygian nodded. “About thirty or so sessions of varying degrees of intensity. Plus, I went to a few shibari tutorials when they were offered. Are you looking for your hooves tied behind your back or are you looking to be strung up from the roof in a tension position?” He gestured absentmindedly at her. “Either way I can provide for you.”

“And how do you feel about impact play?” Fleur asked.

Stygian grinned. “Do you want to sit sometime this week or next week? Do you want the marks to linger or fade quickly? Either way I’ve beaten my fair share of ponies in the past. Thankfully, they mostly seem to enjoy it nowadays.”

This made Fleur cock a brow.

“Haven’t read my books?” Stygian asked.

Fleur shook her head.

This earned her a smile as he went on. “I used to be an adventurer. Went on all sorts of gruesome and gory quests to save the world. Though…” He looked up at her, his bright blue eyes suddenly glazing over with a cold and unnatural blackness. “They may have left a lasting impact upon me.”

Fleur swallowed a lump in her throat.

“And to answer your next question,” Stygian continued, “Yes, I have experience with breathplay, but not much.” He sighed, his gaze snapping back to its regular blue. “So, I may require a little bit of assistance with that one.” He smirked. “Hopefully that doesn’t sink my job interview. I was really looking forward to putting a stuck-up aristocrat cunt like yourself in her place.”

Fleur blushed. “Why you hay-eating…”

“Socialist?” Stygian asked, tilting his head to the side. “If you’d like we could talk about theory over this fantastic bottle of juice. Or you can get off your high horse and let me take you to a private room so I can break you, like you did with that poor stallion’s self-esteem.”

Fleur bit her lip, giving Stygian a second look. He still didn’t seem like much, but he had also offered her the most impressive conversation she’d had this evening.

Stygian smirked. “I promise I won’t gossip when I finally have you grovelling at my hooves, begging for mercy…”

Fleur snorted. “If…”

“If?” he asked.

“If you get me to beg for mercy in the first place,” she said.

With the challenge laid out, Stygian looked at her. He was very obviously sizing her up. Fleur wondered what he must’ve been thinking, but he proved woefully hard to read.

Eventually, Stygian started to chuckle, shaking his head slowly. “Oh Fleur…”

“What?” she asked.

“I always get them begging for mercy in the end.”





Fleur stepped into the private play room, looking around. It reminded her of a hotel room with all the basic amenities: a mini-fridge, a TV (which only had porn channels of course), a king-sized bed, and rudimentary washroom facilities. It wasn’t exactly five stars but it could easily pass for three or four in some resort town.

Though it also had other special amenities, enhancements designed with a very special kind of patron in mind. The bed was modular and customizable, adept for all kinds of play. The roof had many sturdy-looking anchor points. The fridge had a sticker on it, stating that it was fully stocked with all manner of beverages and liquids. There was a first aid kit on the wall. A security camera on the roof for all those voyeurs in security to peep with.

There was also a coffee table with a thick binder upon it. Where regular hotels would’ve filled their’s with local restaurants or a TV guide, the Society provided all sorts of far more taboo options. Toys, tools, ropes, paddles, escort services… all were available upon the laminated pages of the binder.

Stygian approached the table, using his magic to retrieve a pen and paper. And with practiced ease he started to flip through the pages, scribbling down product numbers and all sorts of special requests.

Fleur let him go about that, not wanting to ruin the surprise. Instead she approached the minifridge, opening it and looking through the contents inside. While there were a ton of exciting options - including marejuice of course -  she decided to play it safe and grabbed a bottle of water, cracking it open and taking a sip.

The first rule of BDSM was hydration. It was more important than almost anything else, second only to consent.

“You don’t really strike me as the angry Dom kind of stallion,” Fleur quipped, glancing at Stygian.

Stygian snorted. “I’m not.” He then looked at her, motioning with the tip of his pen. “I’m the type of stallion who knows what a mare wants and is adaptable when providing it. If you were looking for pampering and coddling, I’d be more than willing to help you out with that as well.”

“Well aren’t you selfless,” Fleur teased.

“Each according to their needs and what not,” Stygian replied, finishing up with his notes and picking up the room’s telephone. “I’d suggest covering your ears if you don’t want your surprise ruined, Fleur.”

Fleur smirked. “I doubt my memory of what’s in that book is anywhere near as good as yours.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. I might have a little bit of experience with it after all.”

“Do you come here often?” Fleur asked, making her way over to the lounging chair off in the corner.

There was a button on the arm rest, which piqued her interest. So, she pushed it.

It caused a porthole to open in the bottom of the seat, showing off a space that could comfortably house a sub. Likely, this was meant for some kind of ball or cunt worship thing. An interesting addition but not really something that was part of Fleur’s plans.

“I come here every couple of weeks,” Stygian replied, holding the piece to his ear and a hoof up. An operator must’ve picked up as he quickly stated his name, the room number, and a long list of product codes that were completely foreign to Fleur. The only phrase that made any sense to her was his final request that the contents be kept in a discrete box.

Then he hung up and looked at her. “What about yourself?”

Fleur shrugged. “I used to come about every couple of weeks. But recently, I’ve had some more private circles that I usually like to fool around in. You know, with more trusted companions who I can be assured know how to handle all of my perverted little requests.”

“Private functions are generally more rewarding,” Stygian agreed, approaching her. “But the Clocktower has its uses. Familiarity is fine but…” He smirked. “There can be some benefit to be gained from stepping outside of your comfort zone and dabbling with someone you’ve never been with before.”

“I think it’s a den of amateurs who greatly overestimate themselves,” Fleur murmured, snorting in disdain.

Stygian chuckled. “If anyone seems like an amateur, it’s you.” He motioned to her collar. “No identifying colours, no padlock, your bell is around your collar... It’s like you haven’t even read the manuals on dress codes or collar etiquette.”

“I follow the rules that I see fit in respecting,” Fleur interjected. “I find the collar culture here to be quite suffocating. How is a mare supposed to separate herself from the masses if she can not be allowed to breathe and distinguish herself?”

“I’m surprised they even let you in the door, looking like that,” Stygian murmured.

“The Society may pay well but the door staff are dreadfully undersalaried.” Fleur smirked. “So as long as I don’t pose a direct threat to anypony’s safety…”

Stygian sighed and shook his head. “Regardless, do I seem like an amateur to you?”

“You seem like a stallion who won me over with words,” Fleur teased, getting to her hooves and approaching. “For all I know it might just be words. Isn’t that what you do for a living? Craft words and use them to your advantage.”

“I’m a journalist, we’re known for telling the truth,” Stygian replied.

Fleur scoffed. “Yes because the Canterlot Collective is such an unbiased source of media.”

They circled around each other and sized one another up. There was an energy between them, a potent force which crackled with an seemingly electric edge. It was tension and amusement, weaving together as they dared the other to make the first move.

“Just because a journal prints something you find offensive, doesn’t make it untrue,” Stygian said, getting even closer.

Fleur smirked, stopping and glowering down at him. “Do you know what I think? I think you’re a two-bit rabbleroser with a cheap manecut who is way out of his depth. What do you think about that?”

“I think…” Stygian snorted, allowing himself a terse smile. “I think you’re just asking to get hit.”

“Begging for it,” Fleur chided as she leaned closer, exposing her cheek.

And just like that, he gave her exactly what she wanted, slapping her right across the face. 

A bright pain exploded in her cheek. 

As she attempted to flinch away, his magic gripped her collar, holding her face steady so he could deliver a second. 

Now both cheeks burned with such intensity and soon tears prickled in her eyes.

“Conservative whore,” Stygian hissed, yanking upon her D-ring and forcing her onto her knees. “God I know I’m buying right into your bullshit, but fuck, it feels so good to slap that bitchy little smile right off your face.”

Fleur smirked. “It did feel nice.”

“Right?” Stygian exclaimed, turning her head to the side and inspecting the mark with a low whistle. “Fuck I really let loose.”

They paused for a moment, looking one another dead in the eye. Then a spark crackled and they lurched forwards, pressing their muzzles forcefully together.

Fleur’s maw parted and Stygian took advantage. He crammed his tongue deep into her mouth and led their little oral dance. The kiss was nice, passionate, letting Fleur burn off some of the steam that had been rising in her chest.

Stygian took a step forward and Fleur took one back in turn. He was leading her towards the bed.

For a moment, their kiss severed and a glint sparkled in Stygian’s gaze. He licked his lips, hunger smoldering in his eyes.

“You really are a kinky little bitch, aren’t you?” he said.

Fleur snorted and held her muzzle up high. “Guilty as charged, mon amie.”

Stygian’s magic reached out, grabbing the little ring on Fleur’s collar and tugging it sharply. He roughly forced her gaze towards the hardwood flooring.

“Eyes to the floor,” Stygian hissed. “It isn’t proper for a submissive to make eye contact with their better.”

“My better?” Fleur wanted to laugh. This journalistic hack was no better than her cleaning lady. “Since when were you my better?”

Stygian didn’t respond verbally, instead lashing out and striking her again. The blow came sharply and surprised Fleur. She reeled to the side, whimpering as she felt the welt upon her cheek.

“Asshole,” Fleur growled.

Stygian snorted. “A title I’m familiar with. Though I would suggest Master or Sir if you intend to make it through this session in one piece.”

“Nev-”

She wasn’t even allowed to finish that snide comment before Stygian’s magic clamped around her throat. He squeezed the little veins on the side of her windpipe just hard enough that she felt that creeping edge of asphyxiation.

“Never is not Sir or Master,” Stygian said, his voice cool and lacking mercy.

He didn’t release her right away and instead lifted her gaze up so he could look into her eyes. His own were coloured with that darkness he had shown earlier. What he saw must’ve amused him as a cold smile graced his lips. His grip tightened just a little bit more.

Fleur let out a choked note of dismay and soon a fresh panic flared in the back of her mind. Those creeping little tendrils of asphyxiation had their way with her. Her thoughts slowed and a familiar dampness formed under her tail. As the seconds drew on, this sensation only grew stronger, the slowness soon replaced with a pleasured little high.

Well he hadn’t been lying about his credentials.

His horn brightened further and Fleur felt a lick of magic against her lower lips. She would’ve whimpered if there was any air left to do so with. But alas, she instead started to quiver, quaking as Stygian toyed with her.

“You’re soaking wet,” Stygian teased, his voice dripping with dangerous implications. “Does it turn you on getting abused by such a low brow member of society?”

Obviously, she couldn’t respond, her mind was far too starved for such a thing. All that came out was a choking dribble that was nothing but a string of incoherent and hapless syllables.

Stygian shook his head slowly. “I suppose I should give you a breath before you pass out. But!” His gaze narrowed. “If you fail to show me the proper respect I deserve, I promise you that you’ll regret it.”

Finally, he released her throat. 

Fleur immediately started to wolf down air, feeling the burn slowly subside.

“Fuck,” she gasped, gritting her teeth.

She was barely even given this moment of reprieve before Stygian reached up, grabbing her horn and holding her gaze to the floor where it belonged.

“Now let’s try that again,” Stygian cooed. “How will you address me?”

For a moment Fleur could feel that tempting note of concession on the tip of her tongue. It’d be so easy to allow herself to surrender.

But honestly… where was the fun in that?

So, she gritted her teeth and huffed. “You are the spawn of a prostitute and a beggar.”

“Oh Fleur.” Stygian sighed, sounding more disappointed than genuinely peeved. “I’m going to make you regret that.”

“Do your worst.”

Stygian let go of her horn and marched towards the bed. When Fleur failed to follow, he forcefully tugged upon her ring with his magic, leading her on like some kind of animal.

“Honestly, it’s poor form to give you exactly what you want,” Stygian murmured, glowering at her. “But you just make it so very very hard not to want to beat you senseless. I don’t know what it is: the prissy little attitude problem or the fact that being Daddy’s Little Diva made you unable to follow even the simplest of instructions.” A bit more venom flowed into his voice. “I’m going to make you cry, Fleur, and I’m going to savour every fucking second of it. Do you understand me?”

He didn’t wait for a response as his magic grew firm and he yanked her front half onto the bed, letting her hindlegs dangle over the edge. Her rump was just in front of him, so pristine and white, like a canvas just waiting to be coloured.

“Since our room service is being so dreadfully slow, I suppose I’ll need to do this the old fashion way,” Stygian grumbled.

He repositioned his aura upon her body. One strand pressed down upon her shoulder blades and forced her front half into the sheets. The other coiled around her tail and yanked it back, tugging upon it with just enough force that it ached.

Fleur was amazed at his level of control over his magic. Such accuracy and force would’ve been a challenge for most unicorns.

“This is what we’re going to do,” Stygian said. “I am going to be a barbarian and beat your ass with my own bare hooves. For each blow, I want you to count. If you fail to count then I’ll do something you’re really going to hate. Do you understand me?”

Fleur attempted to nod though his magic denied her the option.

“Yes,” she grumbled.

Stygian nodded and took position behind her. 

“What’s this?” he asked, an amused note entering his voice.

Fleur was about to ask what he’d seen, when she felt his hoof touch the little bell around her tail.

She snorted. “A mare has to uphold her image, mon amie.”

“And gods forbid that I get in the way of that,” Stygian murmured, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how disrespectful having that bell around your collar is?”

Fleur smirked. “Not nearly as disrespectful as chiming it right in a stallion’s face.”

Stygian drew in a breath and lifted his hoof, resting it upon her plush little bottom. It was a nice rump, firm, muscular, but not overly fatty. Any stallion would’ve been lucky to have a round with such a fine a piece of ass like this.

He lashed out, clapping his hoof roughly across her flesh.

Fleur yelped, feeling that wonderful little burn that lingered behind. It glowed red hot and promised to leave a mark. 

When the pain subsided, she smirked but kept her lips sealed.

“Well?” Stygian asked.

Fleur smirked. “Hmm?”

“You’re unbelievable.” Stygian huffed. “Are numbers really too hard of a concept for you to understand?”

“No, but…” Fleur batted her eyelashes. “I love to make you frustrated.”

Stygian’s hoof drew back and instead of lashing out at her ass again, he clapped it roughly against her cunt.

Her previous yelp was replaced by a genuine scream of agony as she started to thrash upon the bed. Thankfully, Stygian’s magic was more than capable of restraining her, keeping her pinned against the sheets.

Tears glistened in her eyes and her jaw ached from how hard she was clenching it

This absolute brute, this barbarian, this…

“Now I know counting isn’t a strong suit of yours,” Stygian growled. “Considering that would require critical thinking, which you inbred nobles have never been especially strong at. But how about we try that again? Alright?”

His hoof lashed out for a third time, clapping against her other flank and leaving behind such a wonderful mark to match the others.

Fleur grunted as it impacted. Thankfully the pain was far more muted than the blow against her pussy.

Stygian cocked a brow. “Well…”

“One,” Fleur muttered, her cheeks burning.

“What was that?” Stygian asked, resting a hoof upon her swollen lower lips. He stroked them in a tight circular motion, collecting her arousal upon his frog. “I didn’t quite hear you, whore.”

Fleur growled. “Brute…”

His hoof drew away, hovering just above her lips.

“One!” Fleur barked. “ONE!”

Stygian chuckled, his cruel note rumbling forth and making her shiver. “See? Was that really so hard?”

He lashed out again and again, each mark adding another note of red to her lovely white rump. Each was a little bite of agony, a little masochistic tendril that only fed into the wetness between her haunches.

“Two, three…” Fleur’s voice remained strong as he continued to lash out with no end in sight. “Four, five…”

Stygian paused at the fifth blow and wagged his hoof in the air. “Now how about we change this up a little. For every fifth lash, I want you to thank me for beating you.” He smirked. “Maybe you could even throw in a little self-degradation because you know that’ll make me happy?”

Fleur huffed. “And why should I…”

Pain exploded as Stygian once more brought his hoof down roughly upon her lower lips, again, drawing forth another animalistic bark of agony. Fleur whimpered and felt tears sting at her eyes as her precious little hole was abused.

“That wasn’t thanking me, you slut,” Stygian hissed, shaking his head in utter disappointment. “I know you’re a stuck-up bitch, Fleur. But this would be so much easier if you just did as I asked. Probably more pleasurable too,” he cooed. “Don’t you want me to pleasure you?”

Fleur snarled. “I’m going to buy up the stupid little scrap you call a newspaper and fire your stuck up…”

Another blow against her pussy and another tortured scream. It was so pronounced that Fleur’s voice faltered, the scream cracking midway through.

“Sadly, we’re not taking buyers,” Stygian teased. “Plus our readership is going fairly strong. Turns out most ponies like my little socialist rag. Maybe I’ll even convert you over the course of the evening. Turn you into another subscription.”

Fleur was about to goad him again but doubted that her tender flower could honestly handle another blow. So, she tactically swallowed her pride and sighed. “Five… thank you for beating this selfish and miserable little whore.”

“Wow I almost believed your sincerity, right there.” Stygian chuckled. “Would you like a little kiss?”

Fleur smirked. “That would be nice.”

Stygian dipped forwards and pressed his lips against Fleur’s lower counterparts. He was surprisingly tender as he kissed her cunt, pushing away the aches of impact to the back of her mind. It was like an oasis in the desert, offering relief when everything else was pain.

Fleur shuddered as he pressed his tongue inside, giving it a little swirl among her swollen and abused folds. It was enough to edge forth a moan.

Though this pleasure sadly didn’t last for long as Stygian regrettably departed. He smacked his lips together as he drew away, humming to himself like some kind of sommelier tasting a fine wine.

“It’s been a while since I had a chance to let loose like this,” Stygian commented, taking his position once again. “So thanks for that.”

He drew his hoof back, ready to slap her again. Though before he could lash out, there was a knock at the door.

“Saved by the bell,” Fleur teased.

Stygian grinned. “I’d hardly call it saved, dear…”

He stepped away from her and made his way towards the door, opening it. A few hushed words were exchanged, secrets that were kept from Fleur.

Then the door closed and Stygian returned, wheeling a chest in with him. It was moderately sized with a question mark imprinted upon the lid in bronze.

“Well, you have to appreciate the showmanship,” Stygian said. “Now where do we want to begin?”

He opened the lid and Fleur attempted to look inside. But all she saw was a dark shroud that seemed to absorb all light.

Stygian must’ve picked up on her confusion. “A fun little ward they cast on these mystery boxes. It’s in tune with the safety spells on your bell and hides the contents from you.”

The first thing he pulled out was a bottle of ‘scotch’ and a singular rock glass. He then opened the fridge and put a pair of ice cubes into it before splashing a couple ounces of fluid inside.

“How much did that cost you?” Fleur asked.

Stygian smirked. “Let’s just say that it’ll be a pretty lean week for me.”

He levitated the glass over and rested it against Fleur’s flank. The coolness of it felt so nice against the warm red mark he’d left upon her flesh, soothing her.

She sighed softly and looked at him. “So, what do you have in store for me. A book club where we review the work of Cutie Marx?”

“Not a bad idea,” Stygian said before shooting her a coy smile. “But, in all honesty, I didn’t think you could read.”

Fleur’s gaze narrowed. “Hardy Harr Harr…”

“I do have a lecture planned for the first part of your punishment,” Stygian murmured. “Though I can’t decide if I’ll delve into leftist rhetoric or scold you for your lack of respect for the Society. Wouldn’t that be fun? Caning your ass as I teach you about the Clocktower’s rules and regulations?”

His magic reached out and he caressed the bell on her collar, giving it a little jingle of his own. The note seemed to amuse him, making him smile.

“Such a dumb slut,” he lamented. “Can’t even put her bell in the right spot.”

Though that was all the abuse he slung at her for now as he took a sip of his ginger beer and placed the glass down, retrieving a few more items. 

He started simply enough, bringing forth a pack of cigarettes. They were an inhouse Clocktower brand which meant very little nicotine and a promise of a magical safeword that could avoid cancer. The packaging had a cheery Dom, dashing out her ashes on an equally boisterous submissive’s tongue. 

After giving her a chance to see it, he placed them down on the coffee table and instead grabbed a ring gag, adding it to the collection. Then he brought forth two sets of ankle cuffs, with spreader bars, and a cord of a sturdy-looking hemp rope.

The sight of all of this sent a rush of heat towards Fleur’s loins. She hated to admit it but this peasant was turning out to be quite the partner for tonight’s affairs. Not that she’d ever dare admit that fact to his face.

Stygian moved towards the lounging chair, sitting down and motioning for Fleur to come over.

“Please make something easy on me for once,” he said.

Fleur sighed and reluctantly got up, trotting over. “I suppose I could throw you a bone. Though you better make it worth my while.”

Stygian held up the first pair of ankle cuffs. “I think I can.”

Fleur took the hint and spread her forelegs apart and Stygian immediately snapped a cuff around each. The bar was a decent length, meaning her hooves were spread wide. Her balance was now a little on the wobbly side.

“So, about that lecture?” Fleur asked.

Stygian nodded and held out the other bar. “Well we can talk about the history of unionization within garment workers. After all, didn’t you just outsource a brand new clothing line to some firm in the Gryphonlands?”

Fleur spread her hindlegs and soon felt the cuffs lock around each. Between the two sets, she found it hard to stay upright.

“Yes…” Fleur smirked. “All of the domestic firms were a little on the pricey side.”

Stygian drew forth the length of hemp rope, holding it directly above her back. He hummed to himself as he judged it, likely inspecting its length.

“Everything is pricey,” Stygian murmured. “The only difference is who is paying that price. You might be saving money but your labour will be paying in terms of health, local environment, and safety. Not that I’ve ever met someone of your stature who really cared until an accident happens and their face gets plastered on the front page of the Manehattan Times.”

He tied the first length of rope around the base of her tail, just below her ‘secret’ bell, coiling it around and around and tying a sturdy knot. His magic then bound her hair into a ponytail which the other length of rope started to coil around. Once this second knot was tied, there was a little tension between the two ends of the rope, just enough to put a little pressure upon both sets of hair. Most importantly however, it managed to keep her tail hiked up and pussy exposed, vulnerable to both his gaze and whatever else he had in mind.

“Good so far?” Stygian asked.

Fleur nodded. “Green.”

“Rare to find someone who uses colour codes in this place,” Stygian commented. “Old fashion or just more ignorance?”

Fleur smirked. “It’s not my fault that they lack a word for it. Plus… I don’t usually dabble in the Society all that often.”

“I’ve noticed.” He sighed. “You don’t seem to think very highly of the Clocktower, do you?”

“And you do?” Fleur asked, chuckling. “It’s a den of novices who understand the word of the Society’s ethos but have no understanding of what BDSM actually entails. It feels like masturbation, there’s no passion, no fury, no emotion. It’s all so robotic.” She shook her head slowly. “Where’s the art and suspense?”

Stygian smirked. “I think you’re just a little biased.” He frowned. “Though, what I’m curious about is what made you this way.”

“How can you make love without the most important lubricant of them all?” Fleur asked, ignoring his attempt to pry.

“They have plenty of lubricants in the catalog,” Stygian teased. “I’m honestly shocked at the selection. You flip through the first page and get to the second and then the third… fourth... fifth...”

“No, not that kind,” Fluer said. “I am talking about wine, mon amie. The raunchiest of BDSM scenes here pale in comparison to an evening with a familiar partner and a bottle of red. No impossibly large arsenal of toys makes up for the loss of intimacy.”

“is that what you believe?” Stygian asked.

Fleur nodded, or did so to the best of her abilities. “I do.”

“Then…” he smirked, “I guess I’ll have no choice but to prove you wrong.”

Another length of rope came forwards, a rather sizable one. With this, Stygian started to weave it around the front bar, binding it tightly. With the other end, he levitated it towards the ceiling and one of the many anchor points that littered it.

He looped it through the sturdy fixture but put no tension upon it. Instead he let the cord of hemp dangle, going limp in the air.

“So where was I with that lecture?” he asked. “Oh! I believe I was about to discuss how garment workers in Equestria used to have next to zero rights.” He shook his head, grabbing the gag. “So many tragic endings that were met because some aristocrat wanted to squeeze out a couple more bits of profitability. You know… like yourself!”

He held out the gag and Fleur opened her mouth. Though she glared at him as he, without ceremony, pushed the ring between her lips and clasped the leather shut in the back. The ring was sturdy, fighting back against her feeble attempts to try and close her maw.

Almost immediately she felt drool form within her mouth and knew it wouldn’t be long before she was a sloppy mess.

“Can you give your bell a jingle for me?” Stygian asked.

Fleur did so, bobbing her head slightly and chiming it once.

Stygian nodded, his character slipping for just a moment as a softness entered his voice. “I might be acting like an asshole tonight but I’m still a slave to that bell, even if you don’t respect it. Do you understand?”

Fleur grunted her response which he took as permission to continue.

Stygian drew forth the package of cigarettes, flipping it open and placing one between his lips. He lit it with a little plastic lighter and drew in a drag, holding it, and finally letting it out in a small billow.

“Tastes like shit,” he grumbled. “Smoking a cancer free cigarette is like drinking a diet coke.” He shook his head in disdain. “Wanna hear a grim piece of investigative journalism?”

Fleur grunted another response. 

The first bead of saliva now dripped from the metal ring, running down her lip and falling onto the floor.

“I have a connection within the exotic animal trade and when they were developing these bad boys…” he twirled the cigarette. “The Society brought in twenty monkeys a week for two years straight. In the end they only donated seventeen to local zoos.”

Fleur’s eyes widened. 

There’s no way that could possibly be true. Should’ve dropped this place after she broke up with...

Stygian maintained his steely expression… for about ten second. Then he burst out laughing, pointing the tip of the cigarette at her.. “Kidding kidding, fuck you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

He drew in another drag, hacking on it as he was too busy snickering to himself like a madmare. 

Good, she hoped he choked on it.

A long column of grey ash clung to the very tip. In response, he levitated the cigarette over to Fleur, holding it right above the ring gag.

As she looked at him, she noticed that the fringe of blackness had returned to his gaze.

He let the cigarette linger above her, for but a moment, before tapping it out, sending hot ash right onto her tongue.

Fleur whimpered, feeling the heat upon her, oh so sensitive, tastebuds. It didn’t burn but it came mighty close. A raw tenderness ebbed through her palate. It was terrible, bitter and potent. It tasted exactly like Fleur thought ash would taste with the toxic and unhealthy flavours at the forefront of an already noxious byproduct.

“You're lucky that they don’t let me play with the real things,” Stygian commented, taking another slow drag. “Like everything else about the Society, even their cigarettes have safety precautions out of the ass.”

He hummed and tapped out his cigarette again, sending more ash flying. This time it landed upon the top of her snout.

Fleur’s gaze went cross-eyed as she watched the greyish powder start to colour her otherwise white complexion.

“Now where was I with that lecture.” Stygian sighed. “Right, right, I was about to talk about the folly of sending garment work to the Gryphonlands.” He smirked. “I suppose we can use this as an opportunity to talk about foreign development or, well...” He motioned to her as if they were two friends debating this over drinks, “the myth of it.” 

His magic gripped the hemp cord that dangled from the ceiling, pulling it towards himself. The bar connected to her forelegs was lifted upwards and her forelegs along with it. Inch by inch she was raised higher, standing precariously upon her hindlegs. By the time he was finished, even these were barely touching the ground, her orientation now vertical.

This new position made her front shoulder joints ache and also forced her gaze upwards, away from Stygian. 

She felt the moisture that clung to her cunt as a few strands succumbed to gravity. They oozed down her legs, some of them even breaking free and dripping onto the floor.

“You’re wet,” Stygian teased, shaking his head as he returned to the subject at hoof. “Anyways... so, I know what you’ll say. Oh, but Stygian, I’m industrializing the Gryphonlands. Which… is a fair argument, though it ignores the fact that the textile industry is the most basic form of industrialization imaginable and does little to improve living conditions compared to transplanting metallurgy or…”

Fleur tuned him out at this point, grunting as her body strained to find a comfortable position. She just wasn’t long enough to find the right leverage. This bondage was just right for irritating her, just right to ensure she could never establish perfect footing upon the floor.

Stygian drew in another drag before letting the cigarette wander away. He played with Fleur, gliding the glowing tip along her quivering belly, allowing her to feel the heat that curled away from it. Fleur tensed, trying to shift away from this potential pain, though obviously the bondage did not allow for any sort of mercy.

Finally, after a slow and tenuous journey, the cigarette reached her snout. At which point, Stygian tapped it out again, causing more ash to fall directly into her mouth.

As Fleur choked upon it, gagging against the grainy irritation, she tuned back in. 

“So really all you’re doing is exporting Equestrian pollution to these places and your foreign development argument is a scam,” Stygian, thankfully, finished. 

Would that have been the first Towertop to come out of political discourse? Possibly, though Fleur highly doubted it.

She heard his magic intensify and the box opened once again. Soon, she felt the comforting tip of a personal massager pressed against her lower lips.

Stygian held it tightly in place, not turning it on. He wound bondage tape around her leg, again and again, affixing the hard plastic casing of the handle against her thigh. Eventually, after enough tape, it was firmly anchored in place. 

Finally, he showed her the mildest mercy imaginable, turning the toy on to a lowish setting.

Still, it was something, the promise of an oasis upon the horizon.

“Can’t be mean to you all the time,” Stygian commented. “Though don’t think I’m not going to make you work for this orgasm.”

He held another little toy in front of her gaze. It looked somewhat like a plastic baton, though the front half was made of glass. There was a dial on it, which had numbers ranging from one to ten.

Stygian turned it to its second lowest setting and suddenly arcs of purplish neon sprung forth from the copper, filling the glass with magical arcs of electricity.

“Can you still ring your bell?” Stygian asked.

“Which one?” Fleur asked, though from around her gag it came out as a garbled mess of syllables.

Stygian shrugged. “Whatever one you’re more comfortable with.”

How the hay had he understood her?

It was difficult, but she had enough range of motion to give the one around her neck a noisy jostle.

“Good, good.” Stygian hummed. “Now, this baton is going to shock you, dear. I know you want to be hurt but I don’t know in what manner. Give me one ring if shocking you is okay and two if you are opposed to the idea.”

Fleur had never played around with electricity before. It was rare to find a dom who was both experienced enough and willing to attempt such a thing.

Still, she couldn’t deny how wet the idea made her. Her cunt likely betrayed her answer before she even had a chance to chime the bell once.

Stygian chuckled. “You really are a messed up little slut, huh?”

He turned up the magic wand’s intensity as he spoke, the vibrations growing against her crotch to a very potent middling setting. It was enough to make Fleur moan, her vocals warped by the ring gag crammed within her mouth.

Speaking of which, Stygian took a moment to tap out the last of the cigarette’s ash upon her tongue before discarding the used-up butt into the trash.

With that out of the way, he started to trail the electric toy down her body. At this setting, it was exciting, making her hair stand up on edge and leaving behind a pleasant little tingle. Though she had a feeling that the pleasured experience at its second lowest setting would be far different than that of a more intense level.

As if to prove this, Stygian drew the wand away. Fleur could hear the dial turn, each little plastic click making her wince.

Was that two or three clicks? Were they at four of five?

She yelped as the glass touched her cutie mark and a sharp pain drove deep into her recently abused ass. The pleasant tingle of static was gone and Stygian’s cruel rumble of a laugh told her that it would not be returning any time soon.

He turned up the magic wand a little higher, the vibrations now assaulting her loins with far more vigour than before. It was enough to draw forth a constant and unrelenting moan, a sympathy of chirps and pleasured coos oozing forth.

The electric toy touched her inner thigh and Fleur gasped loudly, clenching as she anticipated the pain. Only, no pain came. Instead, she felt warm plastic against her coat. He was touching her with the baton’s handle.

“Made you flinch,” Stygian teased.

Fleur sighed in relief. 

This was the biggest possible mistake she could’ve made. Stygian immediately followed this up by touching her inner thigh with the zappy end, sending a potent bolt into her. Her muscles seized and she jumped off the floor, squirming and fidgeting to get away.

“That’s the fifth setting,” Stygian said. “Shall we turn it up a little higher?” She heard the dial click. “Maybe to six?” Another click. “Seven?”

Fleur gulped and attempted to shake her head. The firm bondage denied her this, however, so she pleaded. Though the gag warped every syllable into a dribble of alphabet soup.

“I can’t quite understand you,” Stygian teased, holding the rod just above her fur. 

It was so close that Fleur’s coat stood up, so close that she could feel the potent energy wafting forth from it.

“Did you ask me to do it again?” Stygian asked.

And just like that, he touched her again, sending another sharp crackle right into her flesh. The pain was sharp, agonizing. Though as it faded Fleur’s masochistic little conscience couldn’t help but adore it. 

What was it about pain that did this to her?

Her juices flowed in sheets and the vibrations worked so nicely in tandem with the electricity. It was like a carnal carrot and stick, the vibrations tempting her onwards as the electricity was there to put her in her place.

Fleur’s core muscles were tense and she could feel the smolder of orgasm on the horizon. It was so dangerously close, every little ache and pain adding to the pleasure of it. She adored her precarious situation even if every external indicator seemed to disagree.

This is what she wanted; this is what she needed. A Dom who wasn’t afraid to do what he must to ensure her pleasure. 

The rod touched her other thigh, sending a shizzle of pain coursing through her muscles. Her shoulder joints ached as they picked up the weight from her rapidly failing hindlegs.

Fleur whimpered. Her chest fluttered as she felt herself riding the edge of orgasm. It wouldn’t be long now.

Stygian cooed softly. “Cum for me, Miss De Lis. I want you to remember that the best orgasm of your life came from a filthy journalist who wouldn’t think twice about dragging your reputation through the mud.” He scoffed. “Not that you really had much of one in the first place.”

Fleur tried to ignore him but his tone, his words, they were further fuel to the fire. She was so close, so eager to sate herself.

She was right there, dancing upon the brink. Each step brought her ever closer to climax, and finally, she spilled over the edge, plunging into the abyss.

Her orgasm came swiftly and it came hard. Her juices gushed forth, splashing back against the vibrator and dripping onto the floor in sheets. The sensation lingered, lasting for several long moments until she was drained of every last drop, sapped of all energy and stamina.

Then she just hung there, haggard and spent.

Stygian leapt into action immediately and lowered her gently to the ground, allowing her to lay upon her side. She was exhausted and it seemed like every last muscle within her body was tender and sore. The taste of ash was prevalent and she would’ve killed for a little water to wash it away.

Stygian approached, bearing a polite smile. “How are you feeling?”

He removed her gag first and foremost, granting her speech once again.

“Sore,” Fleur said as she worked some feeling back into her jaw.

Stygian nodded. “I’d imagine, that didn’t seem like the most comfortable position to maintain.”

“Almost like you knew what you were doing,” Fleur teased.

Stygian went about releasing her, starting with the rope that kept her tail raised. This was a relief as she could finally take some of the strain away from her neck and spine. Then he went about unshackling her, granting her full control over her body once again as the two sets fell away.

Once she was freed, he opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water and offering it to her.

Fleur gladly took it, allowing herself a greedy sip. As she felt the coolness upon her tongue, she remembered the ash that still lingered in her mouth. So she frantically looked around, grabbing a garbage can and spitting the contents into it. Knowing the Clocktower, that probably wasn't the worst thing a maid could possibly find in there.

Then, with the foul taste banished, she could finally down the bottle, replenishing her spent fluids.

Stygian laid down in front of her, resting a hoof upon her own. It was an awkward position to be in. 

Were they close enough that cuddling was an option or were they still strangers who could only show a fleeting affection? It felt silly really, considering what he’d just put her through. But still… what did she really know about this stallion?

“What’s your favourite food?” she asked.

Stygian blinked. “Pardon?”

“I know… silly question but…”

“Would you believe me if I said oatmeal?” he asked.

“I’d call you a filthy liar,” Fleur teased. “Because then you’ll say you add this and that to it, and by the end, is it really even oatmeal anymore?”

Stygian laughed. “Fair fair… Well I was going to say that it’s great with cinnamon, brown sugar, a little nutmeg, and…” He shook his head and held up a hoof. “Look, nevermind… uh… have you ever had curry before?”

“I love curry,” Fleur said. “Have you ever been to the Saffron’s?”

He nodded. “That place is awesome.”

“They have such delicious samosas,” she said, sighing. “I haven’t been there in ages.”

“Would you like to go sometime?” Stygian asked.

Fleur gave him a nice long look before nodding. “Yeah… that’d be pretty great actually.”

She took another sip of water, emptying the last little bit that lingered. She then tossed it into the trash.

“Would you like to continue?” Stygian asked, reaching forth and brushing a hoof across her cheek. “That orgasm looked like it took quite a bit out of you.”

Fleur smirked. “I’m fine…”

“Are you sure?”

“Positively.”

Stygian looked towards his toy chest. “So, question; are you comfortable with sucking my dick?”

Fleur smirked. “I’m sure I could manage.”

“And are you fine with genital pain?” he asked.

Fleur snorted. “Well, aren’t you a charmer?” She thought about it for a moment. “Are you thinking something along the lines of pussy slapping or what? Because I’ll admit that my pussy is kind of perfect and I’d prefer not having it tenderized.”

“It is a very nice pussy,” Stygian commented. “But no, I was thinking something along the lines of gingering your asshole along with something a bit more intense for your lips.”

“How intense?” Fleur asked.

“About a seven or eight out of ten,” Stygian said, his tone shockingly carefree for someone discussing sexual torture. “Though don’t worry, we're in the Society, so any pain could be washed away in a heartbeat.”

Fleur gave herself a couple of seconds to think about it before nodding. “Let’s do it.”

Stygian smirked and his horn glowed as he drew forth a black padded blindfold. He draped it over Fleur’s eyes and snapped it tight against the back of her head.

It was such a simple design yet it worked expertly, robbing her of all vision.

Stygian took immediate advantage of this as he traced a bead of his potent magic along her side. Without vision, Fleur’s other senses were more potent, sharper. She could feel the coolness of the aura, the slight tingle of static that it bore.

She could hear Stygian’s breathing, his tempo steady and powerful. She could smell the cologne he wore, pleased that this filthy rabble-rouser at least had a good taste in hygiene products. And she could taste the tension in the air; it was delicious.

The bead left her coat and a moment later she heard him opening the chest, yet again.

“Do you cook?” Fleur asked, biting her lip.

Stygian chuckled. “A little bit, but I’m no Binging Babish. Yourself?”

Fleur grinned sheepishly. “I’ve been in the presence of cooking before. Does that count?”

“I don’t think so,” Stygian said before touching the underside of her chin with his magic. “You know, maybe I could make something for you?”

“My, my, we haven’t even finished planning our first date yet, mon amour.”

Stygian brought something before her nose. Fleur drew in a deep breath and was greeted by the spiciness of ginger.

“You should be grateful,” Stygian teased. “I was tempted to order a habanero pepper instead.”

Fleur tensed as she felt something else float by, feeling the blunted edge of a cold knife glide along her side. She drew in a breath and went rigid, knowing how messy flinching in a situation like this could be. Stygian was slow with his journey, tracing his tool all the way from her haunches and up along her side.

He showed great care when he moved it across her shoulder and along her throat, letting her feel the steel as it passed her vital arteries. Finally, it met the bottom of her snout and finished its journey as he drew it along the underside and away from her flesh.

She let out a sigh of relief, as it departed, pleased to feel that no little nicks or marks had been left behind.

Her ears perked up as she heard the knife scrape against what was likely the ginger, peeling it. She could only imagine that he was fashioning a plug of some sort. This was all so exciting; she’d always wanted to try this out before. But yet again, there were few Doms who would be so imaginative.

Stygian’s magic gripped her tail, lifting it nice and high. He then moved the ginger behind her, pressing the little plug against her hole. Already, it tingled, though not to some unfathomably painful degree. It was a nice tingle, a little burn that put her on edge and made the wetness, between her haunches, return.

Finally, Stygian forced it inside and Fleur gasped. As she attempted to lower her tail she found that the ginger excited her nerves, keeping those at the dock of her tail tense enough that she couldn’t cover herself.

Overall, this wasn’t much of a seven or eight. This was manageable, maybe somewhere around a two or three on the pain scale. It was like the tingle of the electric wand before he cranked up the voltage.

She heard Stygian grab something else, feeling the cool plastic against her pussy. It felt like the cap of a tube of toothpaste but much smaller, the tube being a travel sized variant. If it even was toothpaste in the first place.

“What’s that?” Fleur asked.

“The thing that’s going to turn this into a seven, dear,” Stygian said, the shiteating grin evident in his tone.

Stygian unscrewed the cap, placing it down upon the table. He then started to squeeze out the tube's contents, though he didn’t apply them to Fleur’s lips immediately. Instead, he seemed to be collecting them elsewhere, on his magic perhaps?

What was he planning? What was this stuff?

Fleur began to sweat, her mind shuffling through the sea of possibilities. What exactly could he be using that would hurt so much?

She completely ignored the ginger. This junior sensation shoved to the back of her mind as she tried to piece together this puzzle.

Still Stygian didn’t apply it, drawing out the moment and allowing the tension to fester.

The world soon returned to Fleur as the blindfold was lifted. She saw Stygian smirking at her, looking like an absolute devil.

She wondered what exactly was going on until he floated the tube in front of her.

Her eyes widened as she saw that it was a little thing of chili paste and a pretty spice one, if the sweating habanero on the logo was any indication.

Fleur drew in a panicked breath just in time for Stygian’s magic to press against her soaking wet pussy. In a moment he had evenly spread the paste all along her lips and clit. And for an equally brief period of time, Fleur felt nothing. Then it came… hard.

The burn was intense, agonizing, ripping a legitimate frenzied series of breaths from her. But where panting might’ve helped sate a spiciness on her tongue, this did nothing to aid her crotch. She jerked forwards, as if that would allow her to escape the heat, though Stygian was thankfully there to stop her from doing anything rash.

He smirked his oh so cruel smirk, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. “Told you it’d be a seven.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Fleur panted, trying her best to figure out something, anything to end this.

“Do you want it to stop?” Stygian asked, a dark note entering his voice.

Fleur nodded quickly, feeling her eyes water. She’d do anything, absolute anything.

Stygian stood up and moved in front of her. The son of a bitch was as hard as a rock, his pride pressed tight against his belly. It was coloured a molted grey with splotches of pink discolouring it. Sizeable but nothing to write home about.

He stood before her and brought another tube into her line of sight. It was a sterile silver with a generic black font on it. It said something but the pain was too intense to waste the effort on trying to understand something like words.

“A special compound developed by C.T.R.L.,” he explained. “It’ll neutralize the heat in a flash.”

“Please,” Fleur whined.

Stygian chuckled and took position, the head of his cock resting on the tip of her snout. “Maybe if you kiss my pelvis.”

Fleur paused for a moment, trying to process those words.

“Unless.” Stygian frowned, his composure faltering. “Unless, you wish to uh... say something. Maybe something with the word ‘clock’ in it? Or ‘tower’, I heard towers are all the rage.”

Fleur shook her head swiftly, and just like that, pushed herself over the edge. She lunged forwards, taking Stygian’s unflared girth between her lips. There was no build up or pacing to her actions, just a raw desire to get to the base. She bobbed sloppily and swiftly, with no rhythm, pushing herself deeper at an impressive pace.

Not that Stygian apparently minded as he threw back his head and nickered. His hoof clopped against the ground, excitedly. “F-fuck. That’s a good mare.”

Fleur’s tempo was ravenous and forceful. Her tongue provided the bare minimum amount of lubrication to aid her journey. She couldn’t imagine that this hectic and hurried mess of oral was even remotely pleasurable but Stygian seemed to be adoring it. His pre leaked forth with such vitality, adding a crude saline taste to her palate. 

All the while, Fleur’s loins continued to burn with such intensity and not in the lustful and flowery way either. This was pain, plain and simple, a sensation that only a masochist could ever hope to adore. Which probably went a long way in explaining why Fleur was enjoying it so utterly.

Though the lustful essence leaking from her cunt was not making the burning any more bearable.

Back and forth she bobbed along, her mane bouncing as she shifted directions so rapidly. She was so close to the base, her snout nearly nestled within his little pubic bush. It wouldn’t be long now, just another inch or so.

And just as she glided forwards, ready to nestle her snout in his pubes, she was stopped dead in her tracks. She was so painfully close, less than half an inch for sure. Yet, there was something stopping her. Something powerful that denied her victory. Then she realized that she could feel the glow of Stygian’s magic on the back of her collar. He was holding her at bay.

“Now, now,” he teased, “don’t want to rush things, do we?”

Fleur whimpered. Her eyes were watering from both the burning of her crotch and him tickling her gag reflex. She must’ve looked like such an utterly miserable whore.

Stygian drew in a breath and let it out in a terse puff, rolling his eyes. “Or I suppose I could show you a hint of mercy for once.”

They stayed like that for a moment, Stygian humming and hawing to himself, playing judge, jury, and executioner. All the while, Fleur whimpered against the cock lodged in her mouth. Finally, he conceded, letting go and allowing her that last little bit of distance.

Fleur bobbed forwards. Her snout scrunched against Stygian’s tuft of pubic fur. It tickled at her snout. Though she beamed as she felt her lips pressed against the base. He was just the right size for her, his length manageable without further straining her already wary body.

Stygian sighed in relief, letting out a little moan. “Good filly.”

As promised, he opened the tube of cream and moved it behind her. Soon a wash of coolness graced her lower lips, making the potent burn fade to nothing more than a lingering memory. It was such a lovely sensation, making her moan against the cock wedged in her mouth.

With the pain gone, Stygian put the tube aside. He then rested a hoof on the back of her head. Slowly, he started to coil her mane around the tip of it.

“Well no point letting a perfectly good blowjob go to waste, am I right?” he asked.

Fleur had no means of responding, though she wasn’t at all opposed to the idea.

Stygian took control of her from that point, gliding her along at his tempo. He started slow enough, using her plush lips and cushioned tongue as if it were a fleshlight and nothing more.

Of course, Stygian was not sated with such kindness and soon his tempo picked up. He glided Fleur along with increasing swiftness. Along with the ever growing pace, the distance also grew more potent as he hammered the rear half of his cock into her, allowing himself to slide all the way back to the medial ring before pumping forward again, vigorously. He was swabbing her throat, plain and simple.

Fleur gagged and groaned, her world becoming a blur as she was used in such a brutal and unladylike fashion.

Stygian’s breathing picked up as well as he panted and grunted, groaning and moaning to himself as his pace refused to abate.

Faster and faster he went, eventually reaching such a point where he was roughly slamming into Fleur, using her mouth like a cheap fleshlight. Though to be completely honest, he likely held those in a higher regard.

Fleur could feel her eyes water and throat strain against him, gagging and sputtering against the obtrusion that misused her. Though no gag reflex could ever hope to fight back against such rough and dedicated usage.

Gods, how long had she desired a stallion who had the courage to do this to her.

Soon Stygian hilted within her throat, his entire length twitching between her lips. His orgasm came swiftly and with little warning as he shot his load deep into her maw. He was clearly pent-up as he lingered there for a good while, waiting for himself to be utterly spent as strand after strand of his potent cum gushed into her belly.

Fleur gagged feebly against him, batting at his stomach with her hoof. Clearly, he was not pleased by this as he used a tendril of darkish magic to shove her limb aside. Only then, did he draw back, pulling out of her mouth. 

She immediately lurched forwards, gasping for breath. A crude mixture of saliva, cum, and other less savoury fluids dripped from her lips and onto the hardwood floors. Fleur wiped away the mess that lingered upon her muzzle, trying to do anything to banish the abundant foulness that corrupted taste, smell, and touch. She blinked away her tears, trying to reorientate herself.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

Stygian snorted. “Fuck is right, Fleur. That was one of the best facefuckings I’ve had in awhile. You really outdid yourself.”

“I do my best to please,” Fleur teased, continuing to try and clear her complex. “I must look like shit.”

Stygian gripped her collar and turned her gaze up to meet his own. Her fears were confirmed as he flinched away and offered a nervous smile.

“That bad?” she asked.

Stygian nodded. “You uh… kind of look like the aftermath of a gangbang scene from a porno starring six earth ponies.”

Fleur whistled, allowing herself a proud smolder. “Well now I kind of want to see what I look like.”

Stygian took a step away, motioning to the bathroom. Fleur got up, feeling her many stiff joints pop and her body ache. It really had been far too long since she’d last been treated like this.

She made her way into the bathroom and used her magic to flick on the lights. As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she burst out laughing.

“Holy fuck!” she exclaimed.

Stygian hadn’t been lying, she looked like the aftermath of a ten-pony long train that took place in a truck stop bathroom. Twin streaks of black mascara drained away from her eyes and down her face. Both of her artificial lashes had been knocked clean off. One was missing, the other was stuck to her cheek, glued there by the abundant mixture of depravity that coated her complexion. And coated wasn’t an understatement. There was a solid and vile layer of saliva, cum, and hopefully only a little bit of bile around her lips and splattered upon her cheeks. Her mane was a mess, frazzled and stuck in every possible direction. 

And beyond all of that, she just kind of looked like a cheap whore who’d been put in her place.

It was enough to make her still tender pussy wink in anticipation.

“You did good,” Fleur called.

Stygian chuckled. “Yeah I did.”

As much as Fleur would’ve loved to keep her whorish little expression going strong, she sadly couldn’t stand the vile stickiness that coated her muzzle. So, she quickly splashed some water in her face, doing away with most of the filth.

Then she returned to the room.

Stygian was already hard at work, preparing the next of their activities. Laid out upon the bed were a few cords of hemp rope, some kind of weird looking black device that reminded Fleur of a blood pressure cuff, a rattan cane, and something which was hidden under one of the room’s towels.

“Are we still going?” Fleur asked.

She walked towards him and tried to peak under the towel but he merely readjusted it and denied her a chance.

“If you’re still willing,” Stygian said. “Though if you’d like to back out I’d be more than understanding.”

Fleur thought about it, giving it a good long moment. But in the end, she shook her head. “Nah, I think I have another round or two left in me.”

Stygian nodded. Though instead of acting he simply laid on the bed, pawing at the sheets.

Fleur didn’t question this as she hopped up and joined.

“Whatever happened to your padlock?” Stygian asked.

Fleur snorted. “What does it matter?”

“Well it’s a pretty integral part to your collar,” Stygian said, touching a hoof to the red fabric. “Also I think it’s a part of the dress code.”

“And I think we’ve already discussed what I think about that code,” Fleur grumbled.

Stygian nodded. “So do you leave it at home?”

Fleur was silent for a moment then let out a heavy sigh. “It was a stallion.”

“This should be good,” Stygian said, chuckling to himself.

“He was my first serious Dom in this place. He and I had... a falling out, and in my throes of passion, I may have thrown it at him,” Fleur explained. “Told him that it would be something to remember me by.” She huffed. “Not my proudest moment.”

Stygian nodded. “And you never felt like replacing it?”

“No,” she shook her head. “This place kind of felt a little hollow after that. I only started coming back a couple weeks ago, when I knew he’d found himself a job far away from Canterlot.” She sighed. “I don’t know, maybe I’m hoping they’ll kick me out so this separation can be final and I can move on with my life? Not like I’m actually being a positive presence here. Honestly just feels like I’m running on nostalgia at this point.”

Stygian reached over and brushed her side. “Well, I’m glad that you’re here.”

Fleur didn’t respond.

For a moment the two of them existed in a tense silence.

“Do you like music?” Stygian asked, hoping to jog some life back into the evening.

Fleur snorted but went along with it. “Does any one truly hate music?”

“Well I used to…” he laughed, “probably had something to do with when I grew up.”

Fleur cocked her brow.

When? Surely he wasn’t any older than herself and the music back then was great.

“But!” he went on, “but I’m really trying my best to get into the local music scene.”

Fleur nodded. “Well there are plenty of great places in Canterlot. Is there any genre you’re looking for specifically?”

“I hear folk is… fun?” He chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just… let’s pretend this didn’t happen. I’m bad at trying to be a city pony.”

“You grew up in the country?” Fleur asked.

Stygian glanced off to the side. “Yeah, in a place that’s a few hours north of Canterlot. It was called Sturgeon’s Bluff.”

Fleur had never heard of it. Though she supposed that had something to do with his usage of the word ‘was’.

“Well if you’re looking to add a bit more hipster cred to that manecut of yours,” Fleur said, brushing a hoof through his mane. “Then I’d suggest going to the West End Gardens on the weekend. The bars there probably have what you’re looking for.” She waited a tick, a moment. “You know…”

“I know?” Stygian asked.

“Saffron’s is between my place and the Gardens. So maybe we could hit it up after getting some food?” Fleur asked. “Nothing like a couple drinks after a spicy meal from the subcontinent, right?”

Stygian studied her for a moment and then started to snicker.

“What?” Fleur asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Sorry, sorry, just surprised that you can even think about spicy food right now,” he murmured.

Fleur snorted. “I have a short memory.

Stygian shook his head slowly. “I just… are we seriously planning a date?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Didn’t think that would be happening.” Stygian smirked. “What are my coworkers going to think?” He groaned. “I’m so fired when they find out I’m dating an aristocrat.”

Fleur grinned “Hey, look on the bright side. You at least know that I’ll put out on the first date.”

“True, true…”

Fleur leaned over and planted a kiss on Stygian’s cheek. At first, he blushed, then he seemed to catch himself, sticking out his tongue in faux disgust. 

“Relax,” Fleur teased. “I washed my face, you dork.”

“How are you feeling?” Stygian asked, looking at her rump. “Didn’t mess you up too bad, did I?”

“Still a little tender but in a good way,” Fleur said. “Nice combo with the ginger and chili pepper. Very creative. Speaking of…”

He held up the piece of ginger before her eyes. “Pulled it out when I applied the aloe. Didn’t think you’d even notice with the chili paste doing its thing.”

“Good call.” Fleur then looked at the gear. “So, shall we continue with tonight’s fun and games?”

Stygian nodded and reluctantly drew away, climbing off of the bed. With a quick flick of magic he started to reconfigure the piece of furniture, shifting it from a traditional hotel room unit into one that had four sturdy posts; one at each corner.

“Won’t find something like that at Neigh-Kea,” Stygian said.

He grabbed a length rope and began to affix it to the post closest to him. This one was nearest to Fleur’s left foreleg. Then he moved on to the post at her right foreleg, then left hindleg, and finally, right hindleg, securing a separate length of rope to each.

“Before we begin,” Stygian said. “This is going to get pretty extreme.”

Fleur nodded and smirked such a devilish smirk. “Well, don’t tease a filly.”

Stygian laughed. “And I plan to do something semi-permanent to you. Well, as permanent as the Society will, of course, so if you’d like to back out, I’m sure there’s a remedy somewhere in the catalogue.”

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Fleur chided. “Don’t ruin the fun for me.’

“Just wanted to give you a little heads up.”

“And I appreciate that, but I fully expect you to do your worst,” she said.

Stygian nodded and drew in a breath. “In that case… spread your legs.”

Fleur did as such, pointing each towards a specific bedpost. Stygian then started to affix them, starting with her forelegs before going on to the back. His bondage was surprisingly slack, giving her some range of motion and freedom to squirm in.

“Comfortable?” Stygian asked.

Fleur nodded. “Surprisingly so.” She smirked. “I thought you said that this was going to be intense, mon amour?”

“Got to warm you up before we move onto the more intense stuff, dear.”

He grabbed the strange black object that reminded Fleur of a blood pressure cuff, though on a bigger scale. It had an air pump of some sort attached to an inflatable and tough looking material.

“I’m going to remove your collar. Is that alright?” Stygian asked. “Don’t worry, it’s just going to be for a moment.”

Fleur nodded and offered him a warm smile.. “I trust you.”

Stygian smiled back as his magic toyed with Fleur’s collar, fiddling with the latch. Normally, as this was a piece of society material it would’ve required a pulse of her own magic to obey his commands. But without the padlock, it fell away from her neck and into his grasp.

As promised, he almost immediately returned it to her, wrapping it around her left foreleg, clasping it shut.

“I needed access to your neck,” Stygian explained, glancing at it. “Do you mind seeing if you can...”

Fleur beat him to the punch, giving the collar around her leg a little jingle just to prove that she could.

Obviously pleased with this, Stygian then grabbed the cuff, wrapping the black material securely around her throat. At first it was a little loose, requiring his magic to keep it in place. But, with a couple puffs of the bulb, it tightened a smidge, fitting snugly against her flesh.

That’s when Fleur realized what exactly this was used for.

“I thought you didn’t do much breathplay,” she said. “Are you sure about…”

“I said I’d give it a try and you still have your collar. Just… be patient. I don’t want to hurt you…” he paused, “Well, I mean… like in a way that…”

Fleur giggled. “I understand, you dork.”

Stygian pointed his hoof towards the collar around her leg. “Just give that a little jingle if things get too intense, alright?”

Fleur simply nodded her affirmation.

He offered her a nervous chuckle and kissed her on the cheek. And as he kissed her, his magic grabbed the little air bulb, giving it another cautious, almost hesitant, squeeze. The collar tightened a little more, and a little further still, with the squeeze after. 

Her breathing was still steady and controlled, not labouring against the material. But still she could feel it lightly pressing into her throat, a few more grams of pressure away from constraining her windpipe and all those precious little arteries that carried blood to her brain.

Stygian didn’t quite give that to her yet, denying her proper asphyxiation. Instead he shifted positions, coming up behind her rump. He reached out with both of his hooves and groped her flanks, giving them a rough squeeze. 

Fleur drew in a breath and laughed. “It’s a fine ass, no?”

“One in a million,” Stygian said. “One of these days you’ll have to let me pamper you. I could eat this thing all day long if you’d like.”

“Maybe when we get to know each other a little bit better,” Fleur purred.

She watched as Stygian’s magic groped at the base of the rattan cane, dragging it out of her line of sight. She attempted to follow it but the rigid construct of the pressure cuff denied her the range of motion necessary.

“You ever played with one of these before?” Stygian asked.

Fleur drew in a breath as she felt the coarse material of the wood move across her rump. It was searching for a target to lash out against, seeking a means of hurting her.

“I have,” she said. “A gentlestallion at one of the private clubs I frequent loves to use them.”

“And I’m sure that this club in question is only for the high society types,” Stygian teased, drawing the cane back.

Fleur snorted. “What do you think?”

“I think…” Stygian grunted and lashed out, bringing the cane down roughly upon Fleur’s rump. “I think that I’m going to ruin you for every snot-nosed blueblood you ever encounter in the future.” He cracked it against her again. “I want all those silver spoon types to feel second rate when you compare them to me.”

Fleur gasped, jerking forwards as she felt the cane leave such a lovely pair of marks behind. The pain was red hot and deep. Her whole left flank burned, smoldering with the heat of impact. And the only coolness offered was the stream of fluids that once more coated her lips and made them glisten. 

Oh, what magic came from masochism.

“If you think those aristocrats hit hard, wait until you see what someone who works for a living can do,” Stygian said, growling as he lashed out again.

The material clapped even harder against her flesh, jerking forth a legitimate scream from her.

As the pain slowly ebbed away, Fleur shot him a fiery look. “Someone who works for a living?” She scoffed. “I didn’t realize that drafting tabloid articles honed one’s foreleg strength?”

This would be her final snide comment.

Stygian grabbed the air bulb and gave it a couple more squeezes. The material pressed down upon Fleur’s neck, biting into it. She drew in a breath, but it was laboured, wheezing as she reluctantly let it out. Breathing was still a thing she could do but it was no longer an absentminded activity. It was something she’d need to work towards and struggle for.

And as she worked for the mere breath to carry on, Stygian refused to abate. He lashed out again, clapping the cane against Fleur’s flesh over and over. Each mark was ruthless and potent, leaving behind a welt that burned, bringing another bout of fresh tears to Fleur’s already swollen and dry eyes.

Her crotch ached, so tenderly, her lips swollen and eager to be sated. Though they could only leak in anticipation and want as it seemed like Stygian had other plans in mind.

An apparition formed in front of Fleur, one that caught the limited breath within her lungs. It was a black shadowy figure with yellow eyes and no other discernible features. This dark voyeur watched her eagerly, though maintained its dead silence.

“Helps to have a second pair of eyes,” Stygian explained. 

He paused his abuse, taking a second to drag the harsh material of the cane between Fleur’s puffy lips. She quivered at the sensation of the rattan, feeling her moisture cling to the finely finished wood. All the while her breathing came out in raspy little pent-up bursts.

Her mind grew fuzz, her thoughts cluttered. Ideas and concepts started to fade, replaced by something feral, something instinctual. All she knew was the heat between her lips; the pleasure and pain that the tool could bring.

Stygian drew it away and lashed out again, adding another aggressive mark across her backside.

As he did so, he grabbed the air pump and gave it another pair of squeezes. By now the cuff was like a vice, snuffing out the flow of air, so that only the thinnest trickle could ooze forth from her maw. It would be impossible to sustain herself on such a feeble flow but still she tried her best, hearing that pathetic little note wheeze forth with every attempt to maintain life.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Stygian teased. “Your Master is here to take care of you.”

As her mind faded that word was the only one that made any lick of sense. Master, Owner, Sir; they all meant the same thing. It meant that she belonged to this stallion, this brute, this socialist scum. It meant so many things, carrying baggage and hope all in one.

Soon she felt a vibration against her lower lips as Stygian pressed the personal massager back against it, flicking it to a higher setting. Not so high that it would risk overstimulation and pain, but enough that she would’ve moaned if she had the air to waste.

Her mind was so incredibly fuzzy, unclear, her thoughts muddled and slow as coherency faded to the decline of oxygen. Her breathing attempted to pick up and remedy the short supply but nothing could get past the iron grip of the cuff.

Stygian lashed out with the cane again and again, the marks painful though they seemed so distant, so impossibly far away.

Fleur could feel her stomach suck in, fluttering. There was a heat within her, something so animalistic. Everything seemed to be feeding into it, every last act of cruelty and barbarism.

Stygian moved off of the bed, his absence barely even felt by Fleur De Lis. He made his way in front of her, banishing his dark apparition. His eyes were glazed a solid black as he looked down at her with nothing but an eerie and detached coolness.

“You belong to me, Fleur,” he said, his voice equally dark. “And when you have this orgasm, I want you to remember who gave it to you. I want it to ruin every orgasm you ever have after this. I want every stallion you bed to feel second rate compared to me.” He smirked. “I want you to come crawling back to me, knowing that I’m the only pony who could ever hope to satisfy you. Me!” He growled. “A journalist who wouldn’t think twice about putting you through hell.”

The magic wand grew more intense. Fleur attempted to gasp, her thin trickle of air struggling to form even the feeblest of notes. Still, it was enough to tip the scales in her favour, plunging her into her second orgasm of the evening. It came swiftly and powerfully, spilling onto the bedding below.

Within a heartbeat, Stygian’s demeanour shifted, his black gaze fading to its regular warm and bluish hue. He immediately grabbed the air pump, opening it and allowing all the pressure to fade in a matter of seconds.

Fleur gasped for breath, hacking and coughing as she tried to purge her system of the pollutants that asphyxiation had allowed to build up and linger. Soon the ache and burn of carbon dioxide dissipated, clarity returning to her.

“Fuck,” Fleur rasped. “That was…”

“Intense?” Stygian asked.

Fleur snorted, looking up at him. “Sociopathic and abusive might be a better way of describing it.” She paused and offered a sheepish grin. “But in like a cute and endearing way?”

“Sure, sure,” Stygian said, rolling his eyes.

He didn’t move to unbind her completely, contenting himself with just removing the pressure cuff collar for now. Instead he rested a tender hoof against her cheek.

“So, about that semi-permanent thing…” He bit his lip. “I only want to do it if you’d consider possibly… I don’t know... submitting yourself to me?”

“Like going steady?” Fleur asked.

“Just a consideration of it. I still want to try that whole first date thing out with you.”

Fleur snorted.

Did she really want to submit to Stygian?

Well… yeah? He was really fucking good at what he did.

But was she really ready to be with another Master? How long had it been since...

She bit her lip and looked up at him, seeing that eager anticipation in his gaze. And upon seeing those soft blue eyes, she knew her answer. 

“Let’s do it.”

Stygian nodded and grabbed the towel, lifting it up and revealing an electric razor. The kind developed to shave manes in the military.

Fleur’s eyes widen. “Huh.”

“Like I said you can always fix it with a potion,” he said. “That is if you even want to do it in the first place…”

Fleur nodded. “What’s the significance?”

“Well I was thinking that your mane is kind of a symbol of your status and I guess it kind of symbolizes your willingness to shed your stature and admit that you’re below me,” Stygian explained. “At least, that’s how I’m viewing it anyways.”

Fleur chuckled. “I really got under your skin, didn’t I?”

“A little bit,” Stygian said. “Your disregard for basic respect for the Society and its members kind of irked me before I knew what was going on. And, well… I think that establishing a more fruitful partnership might help you see things from my perspective.” He settled down and brushed a hoof across her cheek. “I might not be the greatest at dealing with broken hearts but, well, I am pretty good at providing a very rewarding distraction. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“That you are,” Fleur said, giving the razor another look. “Go for it.”

“Are you absolutely certain?” Stygian asked.

Fleur smirked. “Getting cold hooves, you inbred socialist cuckold?”

Stygian chuckled and flicked on the razor. It hummed to life, the noise filling the room. “Oh, I’m so going to enjoy this.” He flashed a devilish smile. “By the way, isn’t using inbred as a slur a bit of the pot calling the kettle black there?”

Before she could reply, he drew the razor through her mane. 

The first stroke made Fleur gasp. She watched as a bounty of her lovely pink mane fell away from her scalp and onto the bedding.

“We’re going to need to get you a better collar.” Stygian said. “Missing padlock aside, red really isn’t your colour. It seems a bit too free-spirited in my opinion.”

The razor went through again and again, more of her mane cascading away and making a further mess upon the sheets.

“What would you suggest?” Fleur asked. “I’m not really on the up and up when it comes to manuals and etiquette in this place.”

“I’ll have to think of something after our first date,” Stygian said. “Don’t know if we’ll be monogamous or open to other ponies or…”

“So let’s see if we can actually stand each other in the civilian world first before we decide on jewelry?” Fleur asked, batting her lashes and smirking.

Stygian nodded. “Probably for the best.”

“Can I wear this ratty old thing until then?” she asked, flicking at her collar’s ring with a burst of magic.

Stygian nodded but didn’t continue their conversation. Instead he focused on finishing up with her mane, doing away with the rest of it in a few final strokes. By the time he was finished, Fleur was surrounded by the remnants of her once lovely pink hair. 

Stygian drew away and brought over a mirror, showing Fleur her reflection.

She was not prepared for how strange being bald would be. It was a drastically different style and she had no idea how she was going to swing it. Maybe she could claim that this was some kind of new avant-garde thing? Neo-Brutalism was all the rage these days apparently and surely there was nothing more brutalistic than a lack of mane.

“Huh,” Fleur murmured. 

Stygian nodded and used his magic to lift the collar away from her foreleg, holding it in front of her. He cocked a brow and made a show of separating the bell from the collar.

“Now if you’re serious about being my sub, I do expect you to show this place the respect that it deserves,” Stygian said. “And that means following the rules, even if you think they are silly, dumb, or needless.” He booped her snout with a hoof. “Do you understand?”

He wrapped the collar back around her throat and tossed the extra bell into the trash.

“Ah socialists,” Fleur teased. “It really doesn’t take you long to descend into complete and utter authoritarianism, does it?”

“I would suggest watching your tongue while you’re still trussed up, dear,” Stygian teased. “Or I’ll be forced to…” He bopped her again. “Continue booping you.”

Fleur scrunched her snout and narrowed her gaze, letting him know that continuing with this course of action would have dire consequences.

Stygian chuckled and went to work unbinding her, removing each length of rope in turn. Once she was freed, he motioned for her to come down, which she did. And then, with a quick flick of magic, he made the bed sink into the floor, bringing up a freshly made one.

Yet again, not something that you’d find at Neigh-Kea.

“What do you think happens to the old beds?” Fleur asked.

Stygian looked at her. “Well considering the mess you made, I’d imagine they’d probably have to burn them.”

Together they climbed upon the fresh sheets, cuddling close together. Stygian stroked at her cheek as he picked up another tube of cream, using his magic to rub it into her flanks. She had no idea what it was, but it was a miracle worker, doing away with the aches and pains of her caning in a matter of seconds.

“I had fun,” Fleur cooed.

Stygian nodded, stroking at where her mane used to be. “Me too…” He kissed her on the cheek. “Who would’ve guessed that the stuck up aristocratic whore was kind of, well, a whore.”

“It’s hard to be a whore when your standards are so exacting, mon amour. Especially in a place like this,” Fleur said. “You just managed to bring out my good side tonight.”

She sighed as she felt the coolness of the cream sink even deeper into her flesh, wiping away the lingering agony of his abuse.

“Do you want me to order you a tube of some mane product?” Stygian asked. “I hear you can regrow it however you like with the stuff they have here.”

Fleur smirked and closed her eyes. “No thank you.”

Stygian paused. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, sounding so wonderfully confused. It was good to know that Fleur could still toy around with his expectations.

“It wouldn’t be much of a symbol of submission if I just got rid of it within the first ten minutes.” She shook her head and sighed. “I’m afraid that you’ll just have to get used to the fact that you’ll be taking a bald mare out to dinner this weekend.”

“This weekend?” Stygian asked, another note of confusing entering his voice. “Like this weekend coming up?”

“I’m free, if you are.” Fleur cracked open an eye and looked at him. “Plus, the Lamp Lighters will be at Sapphire Gardens and they’re my favourite. Can’t find a better band for hipsters to crowd around than that.”

Stygian pursed his lips, mulling this over, before flashing a nervous smile. “Then let’s do it.”

“See you at my place at around… five?” she asked.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Good…” Fleur smirked. “Now please be a good little member of the working class and order me some room service. I’m absolutely famished.”

Stygian cocked a brow and didn’t move.

“Well?” Fleur asked. “Is there a problem?”

Her answer came in the form of his hoof coming down roughly upon her ass.