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Mistress Shy's New Pet

Chapter Five

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Written by Amethyst Mare (Arian Mabe)

Commissioned by anonymous

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When Arctic came round, he was no longer in the cage and was instead straddling a bench, legs strapped to each side. The stallion blinked rapidly, coming back to reality and the world of the wakeful. Had he imagined the cage? Had it been something he dreamed entirely up on his own? Maybe that was just what happened when one passed out from sexual exhaustion. It wasn't something he could have possibly known before, after all.

Regardless, at some point in their earlier liaison, she must have bathed him, though she had only taken the grime and stains from his coat, leaving everything from his ears forward untouched, perhaps to make a particular point: he could not have known. His balls were still swollen, though not quite so terribly, even if his stomach was full of urine and mare juices that were still yet to be digested. The touch of her hoof on his enlarged belly was a spot of caring that seemed out of place considering his situation and yet proved to be reassuring at the same time. He could not think on it too much, but he leaned into her all the same, eyes half-closed for that blissful moment that darted away as swiftly as it was discovered.

Bondage, however, seemed to have become an ever-present part of his life. The cuff was still around his tail, hiking it up and out of the way - for what, he could only imagine. The taste of urine was still in his mouth, along with thick mare arousal plastered so thickly within his maw that he doubted that he would ever get the taste out again. The room was barely lit, a crimson glow along the edges of the room highlighting select toys that Fluttershy must have wanted him to pay particular attention to only.

The mare in question stalked up to him, eyes simmering and smoky with lust. Without word or ceremony, she tipped his muzzle back and forced a potion down his throat. That time, she didn't need to rub his throat to get him to swallow: he did it obediently. It wasn't as if he had any choice in the matter, or at least that was what he told himself - what he _needed_to tell himself.

Arctic whined as she pushed his muzzle away, a sharp shove that let him know, very clearly, that he'd been dismissed. But he couldn't stop the question from rising to his lips, tongue pushing out the words before he could stop them.

He had to ask. He had to know.

"What..." He mumbled, head hanging and voice barely above a whisper. "What are you going to do to me?"

Fluttershy stared him down.

"Address me properly, pet, and perhaps then we may have a discussion."

Arctic licked his lips, torn between answering as she wished and...well, he wasn't sure what else he could do. Deny her? That would only bring more sexual torture, abuse and beating among other things.

"Mistress..." That was hard to say still. "Mistress Shy, what are you doing to do with me?"

The mare smirked.

"Better, pet, but that's for me to know and for you to find out. I'm sure I'll get some good use out of you, don't you worry."

She giggled, though there was a dark humour in the lilt of her voice.

"I wouldn't want to waste a nice, clean pet, after all!"

Arctic trembled. He wouldn't have minded being wasted. He would have very much liked to be wasted back in his own home. The mail was probably piling up: there was no one to take care of it for him in his absence. It could have been a quieter life, a more peaceful life, with the continuing little dramas that befell even the most stringently disciplined of stallions. He wasn't to be blamed for a lapse in attention, after all, and the punishment for one little look most certainly did not fit the crime. Though he wasn't sure, if the bonds were gone, just where his hooves would take him.

Another thought to leave for later.

The basement door creaked open, light spilling down the darkened stairs.

"Fluttershy? Are you down here?"

Her head snapped around.

"Yes, Spitfire!" The dominant mare sang out. "Just come on down! I'll have you fixed right up!"

"Thank Celestia, this has been killing me..."

Arctic's eyes nearly popped out of his head as a heavily pregnant mare - one of the Wonderbolts, nonetheless - waddled down the basement steps, huffing and heaving all the while. She spread her yellow-feathered wings wide, a darker hue than those belonging to Fluttershy, and groaned, nearly rocking back on her rump as she pressed a hoof to her shockingly swollen belly. Her orange mane stuck straight up from her head in its traditionally windswept look, though a careful observer would have noticed that both mane and tail were styled with gel rather than kept in place from the raw power of flying at breakneck speeds.

"Honestly, they're all just mocking me in practice now," she muttered, eyes betraying affection for her friend even as she grumbled, stomach swinging. "I was so desperate to get my training back up to speed that, well..."

She blushed, sliding her gaze away.

"I... I thought a little magic would help. And that mare said she had a spell to ease the condition of my udders puffing up like this. All she did was make them fuller and even heavier with milk! Can you believe her?"

Fluttershy blinked sympathetically, a small smile pulling at her lips.

"Actually, I can. But I'm afraid the herbal tea I usually brew you won't relieve the pressure. I have a pump down here that will do just the trick though, if you don't mind a bit of an audience."

Spitfire stopped dead in her tracks, the Pegasus lifting her head high as if she was seeing the bound and gagged stallion for the first time.

"Whoa, Fluttershy, I didn't know you a pet down here! I thought you said no more after the last one? And so soon!"

"I know, but I couldn't let him go when he turned up looking for a home. I have him a cage and everything now with all he needs to be happy!"

Spitfire smirked and covered her lips with a hoof.

"What, a pet bowl and a sex toy just to keep him extra needy for you all night long?"

"Exactly!"

The mares laughed, clearly sharing the joke as Arctic's cheeks warmed and he half-turned away. Being seen by a mare that he had little to no dealings with was hardly the most embarrassing thing to happen to him since he'd made the mistake of entering Fluttershy's cottage, but he knew how he was supposed to act, how to behave. The only thing was that those ingrained behaviours were slowly and surely being replaced with a fresh set that proved all the more appealing to his Mistress Fluttershy.

"The pump I normally use with mares in need," Fluttershy started, her choice of words especially delicate. "Well, it won't do the trick here. I have something more powerful, but the tank will not contain all of your milk. That's where my pet comes into play."

Spitfire nodded her head several times quickly, strands of mane hair fluttering loose.

"Yes, yes! Anything, please!"

"Then just stand in front of my pet and let me help you feel just a little bit better, Spitfire. It'll be a lot easier soon, I promise."

"Fluttershy, you really are a charm, do you know that?"

The Pegasus mare grinned and winked.

"It has been said."

The milking pump with two cups, clearly designed for mares and not a stallion, was similar to the one that she'd locked onto Arctic's poor, abused cock the other night, but clearly had different attachments. The tank she detached from the pump and hose smelled of nothing at all as if it had been washed so thoroughly that there was not a trace of any chemical cleaner left - there couldn't be if the milk was to be consumed by a foal, after all. Spitfire wriggled as Fluttershy held the cups over her heavy teats, squeezing them into place until the suction took hold.

The hose, however, was perhaps a trick that her pet should have seen coming. Nevertheless, he gave a muffled squeal as the end of the hose was shoved between his lips and strapped into place, a tight band around his snout ensuring that he could not open his mouth again if he'd tried. The stallion grunted and shook his head, but that small protest was nowhere near enough to dislodge the pipe and he stared, wide-eyed and helpless, as his mistress flipped the switch of the pump on.

The effect on Spitfire was instantaneous. Dipping her haunches, she splayed her hind legs and groaned long and low, the pump drawing a trickle that swiftly grew into a stream of milk from her udders.

"Oh, Celestia..." She moaned. "I need this..."

Tenderly, Fluttershy stroked her mane, her attention on the mare even as her pet's throat worked, swallowing the milk that was pumped in.

"Easy now," she crooned. "Just you relax and let it do its work... I think you'll have to come back tomorrow, depending on how powerful that spell is, but we'll make sure you're seen right, don't you worry about that."

Spitfire nodded, eyes half-closed and lips parted. Her tail flagged as her udders were massaged by the suction cups, pulsing gently as they were worked and stimulated to relieve her of what would, very soon, provide her foal with sweet sustenance. In the interim, however, the effects of early lactation were merely an annoyance and a hindrance to her and her training especially, as much as she strove to keep up with the others.

Arctic groaned around the pump, milk flowing steadily into his already bursting stomach as the pump worked harder and harder, intent only on relieving the mare while he was used as a vessel for her essence. The hose was between his teeth and far enough forward at least that he could taste it, the thick, creamy liquid slipping sensually over his tongue and filling his cheeks into bulging pockets before he was forced to gulp it down - there was, quite literally, nowhere else for it to go. Only once did he try holding it in his mouth, but it eventually pushed into the back of his throat, causing him to cough and gag and gulp, nostrils fluttering anxiously for breath until he was able to get the fluid out of the wrong pipe. And once was more than enough to make that mistake!

He wriggled on the bench, balls tightening as his cock did its best to squeeze from his sheath, pinned between the bench and his stomach. It didn't really have enough space to swell to its full size, but his shaft did its very best, twitching and throbbing as if the pressure from his swelling stomach alone would be enough to send him whinnying over the edge.

As he gulped down more and more milk, Arctic's eyes grew hazy, the red-tinted room taking on a sultry hue. The mere act of drinking from a lactating mare, even it was by force, had him trying to flag his tail, his anal ring twitching and clenching down on nothing. He locked eyes with Fluttershy, his mistress mare, and let out a needy little whimper that was drowned out by the soft whirr of the pump doing its job and Spitfire's moans, everything more important than him as the mere vessel for the mares to do with as they wished.

And perhaps that was just where he was supposed to be, stomach grotesquely growing and swelling, pumped beyond what it should have been able to naturally hold. Larger and larger he grew, swollen flesh spilling lewdly over the sides of the bench as he rolled his head from side to side and grunted, bearing the strain with as much dignity as he could as a bound and abused stallion.

He didn't feel much of a stallion anymore.

"That feels good..." Spitfire sighed, rocking her hips from side to side, tail pushed up as high as it would go. "Oh, I didn't realise how pent up I was there!"

Fluttershy chuckled.

"Sometimes you don't notice the build-up until it's too late. You lose sight of how you're supposed to feel, what you're supposed to be doing. Normalcy can end up feeling rather strange after a milking session like this, but I guarantee you'll be far better for it, Spitfire."

"Mm-hm..."

The pregnant mare wasn't really listening, head lolling back slowly as she half-turned towards Arctic, swinging her hindquarters in just enough for him to see her flushed and winking marehood. He would have gaped if his mouth had not been strapped closed, nearly choking on the mouthful of milk he had. Her udders still hung full and heavy beneath her, showing her readiness to foal even as she was drained of milk, coloured a soft yellow that would have been an appropriate shade for a foal's blanket in the crib. Her hiked tail showed a far lewder display, however, and he stared obviously as she rocked her hindquarters as if she was trying to show off for him, though he knew well enough that she was wrapped up in her own relief and didn't care for him being there at all. He was just to be used and any entertainment they intended to glean from him he was sure would be far more obvious.

Spitfire hissed through her teeth, stomping a hind hoof as her udders were nearly drained all the way, a string of arousal drooling from her furiously needy marehood. Even her clit was engorged, so full and plump that Arctic ached to wrap his lips around it and drink of her more arousing essence, letting it pour down his throat over and over again as she climaxed on his tongue and lips.

Oh, he was gone - far, far, far gone - but he was not to know what Fluttershy was truly doing to him. Cock throbbing, the stallion grunted, unable to drag his eyes away until there was no more milk left to fill the cups and Fluttershy quietly switched off the pump.

"Ohhhh, I didn't think that would be so good," Spitfire groaned, shivering as the cups popped loose lightly from her udders, leaving them sore from the milking but duly relieved. "And...oh... It's..."

Spitfire looked up and rubbed the back of her head, a pink tint to her cheeks.

"I mean... It's a bit..." She waved her hoof, begging Fluttershy with her eyes to know what she meant, to fill in the gaps to understand the meaning of her words without actually having to say the words aloud. "Just... The thing is..."

Arctic knew exactly what she meant and Fluttershy did too, but for different reasons to those of Fluttershy, for the pregnant mare's winking vulva was in his direct line of sight as she faced the Element of Kindness. Spitfire's flanks heaved ever so lightly, breath noticeably elevated as she lifted her tail, marehood gleaming with a shimmer of arousal that even she could have denied. But Spitfire wasn't trying to deny it.

Thankfully, Fluttershy was the most diplomatic of ponies in addition to being the kindest of them all. And she wasn't about to leave a mare in need when she had a pony available to sate that desire.

"It can be a very arousing process," Fluttershy said, a smile flickering across her lips. "If you'd like to relieve a different kind of pressure during your visit here today, I would like to offer the services of my pet once again to you."

Arctic mumbled around the hose, but was ignored.

"Really?" Spitfire blushed, as unlike her as it was to do so. "Well, that would be very kind of you Fluttershy, but I suppose that is what you are known for, after all!"

They laughed and Arctic twisted, tail tugging at the cuff and legs rattling the bench lightly as he tried and failed to throw his weight around. He should have known better than to try to escape though as her hoof connected soundly with his rump, a sharp smack that drew another muffled squeal from his lips, forelock hanging over his eyes as he tucked his chin down in pain. Fluttershy didn't need whips to put him back in his place when she had a strike like that in her hoof alone.

"Quiet," Fluttershy murmured, though the low tone of her voice was not to mistaken for hesitation or softness in the slightest. "I'll not have that from you."

Yanking the hose from his lips at the same time as she unsnapped the strap around his muzzle, Fluttershy moved swiftly, her pet cowed for the moment and yet not entirely broken. She'd have to fix that. She'd take great pleasure in fixing that. Sometimes the broken ones were the greatest pleasure to play with.

Arctic froze as she untied his legs from the bench, leaving a leather cuff around each fetlock as if to remind him of his place. His wings she left bound to his back - he wouldn't be needing them - and the cuff around his tail, leaving it hiked up out of the way as if he was a mare coming into her first season. Fluttershy clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and shoved him forward, sending him stumbling towards Spitfire who waited with her eyes gleaming and wings slightly spread, raised up above the level of her back.

Striving not to tremble too badly, Arctic sucked in a breath, lips clamped shut in one final defence. The defence would not be up for long, however, if the mare in charge had her way about it.

And she always had her way.

"Go ahead," Fluttershy said, spreading her hoof out to the side invitingly. "You can do what you will with him. He's getting better with his tongue, but the dear really does need more training."

"Dear?" Spitfire snickered, although there was gratitude in her expression as she backed up to the stallion. "I didn't think you were the sentimental type."

Fluttershy's eyes burned and Arctic grunted as her hoof connected with his buttocks, mind disconnected from the spank even as his cock throbbed and ached to cum.

"Trust me, I am not the sentimental type when it comes to pets. This one may yet still have some use for me, however." She paused, one eyebrow raised. "That remains to be seen."

Stomach hanging obscenely and cock slapping up, the stallion didn't have to be told what to do when the mare presented her needy cunny to him. He dove in and told himself that he was just doing it to avoid another slap, a spank or a whip that would bring a rise of pain instead of desperate pleasure to the centre of his mind. Spitfire's juices were thicker and tangier than Fluttershy's coating his tongue quickly as he lapped over the soft lips and pushed his tongue inside.

It was easy to go through the motions, let his mind slip away from the scene at hand. If he didn't think about it too much, he could have been back in his bedroom with that sweet mare he'd had a quick fling with a few moons back. That had been different though, rushed and hasty, whereas with Fluttershy, and now Spitfire too, he had all the time in the world to please them. There was no rush to get his cock in, force the oversized organ into position, and he had all the commands he needed to know exactly what they wanted and when they wanted it too.

In a way, that control and release was a pleasure in its own. And, with a soft moan, Arctic gave himself over to the submission of it, grunting into Spitfire's sex as his cock pulsed, drooling copious amounts of viscous pre-cum. He knew he was making a mess and he could be punished for it later, but it was out of his hooves. And that was a relief too. He didn't have to worry about anything and all he had to do was to do as he was told, pushing his nose into Spitfire's marehood and flicking his tongue over her clit as she gave a little whimper herself that was simply music to his ears.

Ah yes. Arctic moaned. He liked those moans of Spitfire's very much. So much, in fact, that he redoubled his efforts, dipping his muzzle to lap and slurp at her sex with shocking lewdness. And she responded swiftly too, hind legs shifting as muscles jumped and twitched beneath her skin. He could not have said when the exact moment of her orgasm began but he felt her buck, a hoof catching him in the chest, as she shrieked a whinny, climaxing hard and loud.

But he didn't stop there. Pleasuring her on through orgasm, Arctic attacked her oversensitive flesh with relish and drank down every drop of sexual juices that she had to offer him. The stallion snorted softly, warm breath rushing over her marehood, and bore down gently, drawing her clit into his mouth, sucking long and hard and deep. Spitfire cried out. Arctic shuddered, a deeply-rooted pleasure rising to the front of his mind and taking hold, driving him on and on and on to deliver as much pleasure to the mare as he possibly could.

He had to. Mistress Fluttershy commanded it.

And other things too. He felt Fluttershy's wing slap his rump a moment before her words cut through the air like the lash of a whip.

"Get on your back. Now!"

Drawing his nose back sharply from Spitfire's marehood, Arctic scrambled to obey even as the Pegasus grunted her disapproval of him pulling away. Once his withers had smacked into the floor, however, he was swiftly rewarded with the mare's cunny back in his face, licking her to as sharp and sudden an orgasm as the first had been. Spitfire hissed and wriggled, wings outstretched and trembling as her body was wracked with pleasure, tail tickling the stallion's chin as the tips dangled. He focused, concentrating on the mare he had been set to pleasure, so devoted to the task he'd been set that he did not even notice Fluttershy moving around him like a bat through the night.

And then he felt it: pressure under his tail. Arctic squirmed, balls weighing heavy between his hind legs, but there was no escaping it as Spitfire bore down, grinding her marehood back and forth across his muzzle as if she was quite literally using his muzzle for her pleasure. The vibrator, as it quickly was revealed to be, buzzed to life in his tail hole, pulsing through a cycle of increasingly powerful vibrations that would have made him weak at the knees if he had not already been on his back. Spitfire grunted and climaxed again, a curse that he would have expected from one of the less senior Wonderbolts bursting from her lips, but he cared not for that, only the pulsing, grinding pleasure as his mistress squeezed a similar cock ring around his shaft.

But it wasn't too tight. His heart leapt. Maybe...just maybe... And yet he still didn't dare to hope, licking fervently as if getting Spitfire off just the once more would bid her to have mercy on him. Though he was unsure if the mare, despite her Element, was even capable of mercy when it came down to the crux of the matter.

The toy spreading his anal ring into a lewd 'O' was yanked out, all happening as if he was a passenger to the event rather than in the centre of it, and swapped for something larger, thicker, heavier. A shaft shaped with knobs and ridges in all the right places teased into him, only slamming deep once she'd crammed the widest part into his needy tail hole. Arctic groaned and tried to hump, but his legs stuck up in the air, bent in towards his body as his balls churned, cock drooling and dripping pre-cum as if he'd already climaxed himself. The effects of his earlier supposed bathing were quickly undone as he stained and marked his own coat all over again, although he doubted he'd ever get the scent of mare and urine - her claim on him, potent above all else - out of his dark coat.

"Do you think he deserves to cum?"

He heard the voices pass back and forth above him as he groaned and nuzzled into Spitfire's udders as the mare stepped over him, re-directing his attention from her marehood. As is acting on instinct, he locked onto her teats and suckled each of them in turn gently into his mouth, drawing a trickle of sweet milk down his throat to join the rest in his already overfilled stomach.

He suckled down her sweetness like the good pet he truly was, obedient to a fault, and moaned around Spitfire's teats as toy after toy was pushed into his rump as if she was just trying to see how much he would readily take. Arctic groaned and arched his back, pushing up from the floor yet still as helpless as if he was bond in the tightest of bondage. For it was not physical bonds that restrained him but mental and emotional ones, a longing for something that only Fluttershy could deliver growing in his heart.

The mare knew him. Perhaps even better than he knew himself, although he could not have said how. Removing the last toy, the typically shaped stallion-cock, from his needy hole, Arctic whimpered and wriggled for more even as something small and round pressed to his yielding ring. His cock throbbed and jumped, squirting pre-cum with shocking force, but the lure of orgasm was still there, tingling around the edges of his mind as his shaft was hopelessly left untouched. The only stimulation, the closest stimulation, he got to it was the occasional pokes, prods and strokes to his tight and ready balls, the large orbs aching to deliver a load for any mistress to be proud of.

Whether he got to cum or not was not his choice. But it seemed to be a decision made in his favour, for once. As if from a great distance, he shuddered into Fluttershy's touch, the mare ramming the anal beads into his tail hole with a rapid series of pops, each one larger than the previous. They ground over his prostate in the most delightful manner and when she tugged at the ring left outside his anal ring, his whole body convulsed, trying to both push into the sensation and pull away.

Everything was in conflict. Nothing was certain. Everything was perfect.

She didn't even have to touch his cock to draw orgasm from him and, when it came, it was explosive. Spitfire pulled away just in time to be out of the firing line as Fluttershy flipped the vibrating cock ring to its highest setting, ensuring too that it was not too tight to deny him orgasm.

And his seed shot across the floor, the stallion howling and bucking as if it was the last orgasm he'd ever have. He was barely aware of Fluttershy pulling him down into the puddle of his own cum, tail jerking against the cuff, hogtying all four limbs together as he spent his load, balls churning but hardly drained. No, the stallion had far more to give even as his cock flared, the tip twitching and drooling the last trickles of his lust. From a short distance away, Spitfire gave a low whistle. Bound tightly, Arctic's head rolled back and he moaned quietly, slipping into sweet unconsciousness as sexual exhaustion claimed him in her blissful arms.

"That's a good pet."

*

The day, however, was not over for the stallion. She seemed to have a habit or a particular inclination for pushing him to the state of sexual exhaustion where there was nothing he could do besides relinquish his claim on the waking world and fall unconscious. When he woke, he was back in the cage that he'd thought he'd imagined, a dim light on in the basement so that he could see a little of what was around him in her sickly wicked playroom and yet still not a massive amount.

Just enough to tease without revealing every last one of her secrets. That seemed to be the way of the sultry, wicked mare.

The stallion got to his hooves shakily, stretching out each leg in turn as he tried to make sense of what was around him. Yet there was little to claim his attention. The cage was what it was and was not very large either. He could take two paces to the back of it, turn and take another two paces to the front again, where the door was.

Experimentally, he rattled the door, though standing on three legs was too tiring to maintain for too long with every inch of his body still aching - especially his tail hole. Arctic swallowed a groan and trembled, clamping his tail blessedly down over his poor, abused hole. Why had she left him free in the cage? After waking strapped down to the bench earlier and being bound overnight before, he had expected, in the back of his mind, to be similarly bound or even still in the hogtie, which would have been the simplest way to leave him.

Yet the reason was clear, even if he did not want to draw the conclusion himself. Growling, Arctic swung his head from left to right, the red lights of the basement glimmering on a rack of dildos. He stared at them unblinkingly, tail hole clenching on nothing, and took a step back, breath raking through his lungs as if a Timberwolf was raking its claws through him from the inside out.

For Fluttershy wanted him to be free to explore the limited confines of his cage. She wanted him to know just what he was up against, what he faced in her care and confinement, as dubious as the care side was. She wanted him to stretch and relish in his so-called freedom, move his limbs and shake out the feathers in his wings. She wanted him to think he could walk to the door of the cage, push it open and walk free. And yet he couldn't. It was all a sick mind game. He was a victim to her will and games, each step and move of her chess piece carefully planned and played out as if she was orchestrating it all from high above the actual game itself.

He walked. And he walked. But there was nowhere to go and Arctic spun in a tight circle, tail swiping the bars. His body ached and yearned to move, but he was still confined, locked up and locked in, even if he had been given the cruel illusion of being free.

Circling and circling the cage, he thrust his nose into the bars, eyes wild and rimmed with an edge of white. Out! He had to get out! It wasn't a place for a pony to be! Gone were any thoughts adoring the safety of being locked up away, replaced by anger and fear as he growled and slammed his hoof into the metal base. It rang out metallically and he grunted, infuriated and not sure what he really expected. To be treated as a pony? Just what did that crazed mare think she was doing, locking him up like one of her pets? He wasn't an animal! Clenching his teeth, Arctic pressed his head against the door, just above the lock: tantalisingly close and yet still terribly out of reach.

He curled up in the corner of the cage, trembling and shaking. What was she playing at? Was she going to keep him locked in her basement forever, an abused toy that could be bent to her will? Was there so much more to Fluttershy than he'd ever imagined?

Question after question raced through his head, his head spinning too quickly for him to chase down and follow any single one through to completion. Whimpering, he covered his eyes with his wings, blocking out his view of the erotic room with the comforting swathe of feathers.

And so he was forced to, instead, feel. It was not just the ache and throb of sore muscles that called his attention, drawing his mind down every limb and across his wings to the sore point where they connected to his back. She must have drawn the binder around them a little too tight, but the soreness itself was delicious in its own way, reminding him of how hard he'd worked to please her.

That wasn't the extent of the soreness either and he groaned in the back of his throat, clenching and unclenching his tail hole to test if he was as tight and formed as he had once been. He'd never really considered how his anal ring behaved, but it had become far, far more important in recent days, hours and even minutes. Although he yearned to twist around and try to inspect himself, he did not dare and only tucked his nose beneath his front hooves as the throb of being well-used spread through his entire being.

He stretched out his wings, first the left and then the right in methodical submission. It was not much of a stretch and he could not extend both of them at the same time without brushing the cage bars, which only served as yet another little reminder as to the conditions of his imprisonment.

Rubbing his face, he sat up on his haunches, trying not to think too much about how his hindquarters ached, tail clamped down all the way. It was nice to be able to relax it down from his dock for a time at least and Arctic rolled his head from one side to the other, working out the cracks and tightness he found there. Resigning himself to his fate with one last push to the door - it wasn't as if it was going to magically swing open at last though - he lay back down and stared resolutely out at the room that had become a prison of sorts to him.

But did it really have to be a prison? He mused over that, lips working as if he was chewing a bunch of hay fries, saliva pooling beneath his tongue. He'd had more climaxes from Fluttershy since being taken into her home than he had in the last few months alone. And he hadn't _hated_everything she'd done to him, only it would have perhaps been a little more correct of her if she'd asked him first.

What was he doing? Arctic growled and shook himself. No! He couldn't let her get into his head like that, make him think that everything was okay and normal and just as it should be! It was all part of her tricks! The mare's lies! It was all a ploy!

Or was it? He blinked hazily at the red room, which seemed to have strategic toys left illuminated. The pump that had drained him of so much cum. The hose that had been cleaned of cum and his saliva, thick and frothy by the time she'd been done with it and him. The row of the largest toys she'd forced him to take, one by one. He trembled, though there was a tickle of pride in the back of his mind. His body had accomplished far more physically with the mare leading him than he'd ever even accomplished in his personal or work life.

What could she do for him there too? Could the wicked mare drive him on to achievement outside the basement too? If he could do such things for her, all in the name of growing devotion for, yes, she had wheedled that somehow into him, couldn't he also do all those other things that he'd dreamed of?

Maybe he could if there was a certain yellow pony mistress by his side. Or if he was at her hooves.

The basement and the cage weren't so bad, he thought to himself, though there was no one there to be privy to his words if he had chanced to say them aloud anyway. If he lowered his eyelashes a little, what little lashes a stallion had anyway, the room could look cosy. Smiling to himself, he let his mind drift, imagining a warm, cosy living room in a cottage that was neither his nor Fluttershy's, but a new home altogether where, perhaps, things could be different. Just like he'd always dreamed.

There'd be a fireplace in the corner, roaring as it snapped up kindling to feed the larger, heavier logs. He'd keep the curtains drawn to shut out the chill of the night, wandering sleepily into the belly of his home when he had nowhere else to be. And, sometimes, that was the best thing - to have nowhere else to be. In the darkness of his own mind, he had no obligations and no responsibilities and the freedom that came with that was greater than anything a stallion could have otherwise had.

Sighing softly, Arctic danced on the edge of sleep, fantasy blending with the reality he'd been forced into. That pleasant sitting room changed before his eyes, a deeper fantasy taking over as a familiar yellow pony strutted into the scene. Clad in a silk kimono of far off lands, her pink mane was piled up on top of her head and Fluttershy batted her eyelashes at him as she looked down, although there was nothing coy in the look she gave him.

"I've been expecting you, pet."

As if in a trance, Arctic imagined crawling over to the mare who had commanded his life and his dreams, whimpering beneath her as a hoof rested on his hindquarters, holding him in place.

"You'll make a good hoof-stool, little one."

She settled herself onto a luxurious couch that had to have been recommended by Rarity, crimson struck through with flecks of gold that complimented the natural hue of her coat. And Arctic knew just what to do as she lifted her hind hooves from the plush carpet, slinking between them so she could relax on top of him and lean back into the soft cushions. Fluttershy sighed happily, tail flicking over his head. Yet he stayed in place and acted as her hoof-stool, letting her smile and sip tea and let the cares and worries of her day slip away.

There was no need for her to acknowledge him or even take more than the most basic of note of his presence. Although the bars of the cage, in reality, surrounded him, all he could feel in his fantasy was the silken brush of her tail against him as he found himself, for the first time, contentedly in his rightful place beneath her hooves.

If it was the place he'd always been meant to be, it was just as well he had found it, and Fluttershy, in the end. Or else who knew where he would have ended up. A cold cage for a night was a small price to pay to be with someone just like her. Mistress Fluttershy.

"You're a very good pet."

Arctic smiled, blinking through the soft hairs of her tail.

That was all a pet should have ever wanted. To be good.

And he could be good, for her.