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Punished for Her Pleasure

Part Five

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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Continued from part four...

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Arctic woke with a start, neck aching, the posture collar digging in viciously as if it was actively trying to stab him. He didn't know why he'd been left in it, only that it dug in, viciously so, his breath catching, heaving, weighed down by the bulging of his gut.

The bars of the cage rose around him but there was a plastic sheet too, keeping in the stench of him, though the red light of the dungeon could dimly be seen on the other side of the transparent sheet. Stifling a retch, for it was not as if it had anywhere to go, Arctic grunted and groaned, taking his weight more firmly on all four hooves, though his belly still sagged and dragged. It was not, after all, as if he was able to relieve himself.

"It reeks in here, pet."

Mistress Shy was there. Well, there had to have been something to wake him up. His cock was hard and it was only then that he realised, in all the confusion before, that she'd locked a cock ring around his dick too, complete with a butterfly-shaped padlock. In a way, it was fitting, but he trembled at the thought of his arousal being forced for so long.

"Disgusting... To have this infiltrate my playroom would be an abomination. Do you not agree, pet?"

There was a lofty edge to her voice as she wrinkled her nose and waved her hoof in front of it, though the plastic kept him well enveloped in the reek of his own body, the waste churning about in his gut.

"Speaking of which..." Her lips twitched in a smirk that she did not yet want to show him. "My dinner... Oh, pet, it really isn't sitting quite right in my stomach. So, I think I have a new use for my piss pony slut, all nice and lumpy, tucked away in its box."

Arctic shuddered, trying to shrink back, but the cage was not all that large. If his stomach had not been so bloated, he might have been able to turn around in there, but the heft of it made turning impossible. That meant that he had to stay exactly where he was as Mistress Shy backed up to a special valve in the sheeting, her pucker grinding up into it. He gasped through his nostrils, but she didn't allow him anywhere to escape to, her pony pet in a sealed, plastic box to contain every drop of stench, blasting her guts out through her backdoor entrance.

The rippling bellow of wind bursting from her backside rolled forth with raw abandon, not the sort of thing that even she needed to keep in. Arctic gasped and tried to reel as her gas flooded him, worse than the scat, though maybe only because it was fresh to him. It clawed at his nostrils and sunk its way into his lungs, his still much larger mistress easily reaching the top of the cage where the valve was located.

It may have been strange to him to see her sitting up there if not for what he knew she was doing to him, the putrid scent of her blasting forth, pulse after pulse, though there was no softness in the rhythm of it. It did not need to be as he was flooded with pump after pump of viciously noxious gas, clawing at him, surrounding him, shoving him down to the ground as if the very fumes were striving to make him submit.

Green-tinted smog infiltrated the box, swelling around him in a heated wrap. It was putrid, rancid, worse than anything at all that he had ever smelt before and ever wanted to smell again. He dropped like a stone to the floor, fighting to avoid it even as it came for him, thickening in the air around him, pumping and swirling until, even with the mass of his lumpy stomach in the way, there was nowhere for him to go.

Mistress Shy laughed out loud as she hiked her tail for him, more farts rippling forth, her tail hole flexing and clenching, muscular contractions helping her to relieve her guts of the pain there. Yet any pain that she relieved herself of only proved to be more straining still for him as he hacked and gagged even around the two gags crammed into his muzzle, staggering and wobbling back and forth, though Arctic was far from a drunkard. If he was drunk on anything, he was intoxicated by her fumes, her rump letting loose more and more blasts, the pony's eyes watering, coughing, spluttering, choking out whimpers and pleas even through the gags.

"Mmph... Ooommmph... Oooooohhhh!"

"What was that, pet?"

She cupped her hoof up to her ear, an eyebrow raised.

"I'm afraid I can't hear you!"

She didn't want to break him completely, not yet at least, but it was alluring too as he begged through the gag, eyes streaming, her fumes encasing him completely. She filled every bit of the airspace in there with her reek as he fought for some kind of relief, though nothing was to be found where he flailed and staggered, forced to take in gulp after gulp.

Through the green-tinted air, the smog thick and heavy, she drew his leash up to the plastic barrier, forcing his head up to the valve on the side, hopping down to best match up to him there. She dragged his head down, low enough so that she could reach through the hole and undo the ball gag - the ring gag would have to stay on for the moment, the ball gag dangling from the side of his face - so that she could take care of his morning debasement.

"Open wide, pet..."

As if he could do anything else, though he still pushed his tongue through the gag, whimpering and moaning, his pleas coming without words. There might have been words in there, but they were not ones that even Arctic could fish out for himself, gulping, eyes watering, even as she forced all words from his lips, relieving her bowels, once more, into his open mouth.

The stallion fought and gagged and squirmed, but couldn't do anything at all as she forced her droppings down his throat, one after the other. They squished around his teeth and tongue, flooding his muzzle with a fresh dose of a stink, though the reek of her gas settled into his fur, his mane, even the feathers of his wings. It was even more cloying, clinging to him like nothing else, than her piss, a deeply set humiliation that did not at all seem as if it would be easy to, one day, slip away from.

Log after log squeezed down his throat, showing an obvious bulge in his neck, the swell of his oesophagus obvious, the scat only having one way to go. He wasn't even sure that he had a gag reflex anymore as his larger mistress excreted into him, using him as nothing more than a living toilet while she added yet another load of scat to his churning, gurgling, already pained stomach.

Only when she was done with him did she shove him away from the plastic and the bars of the cage, sealing up the plastic again, leaving him with only the ring gag in. It would be a good reminder for him of how his mouth was always to be open for her, always available for use, the stench of her gas seeping into his maw, down his throat, even clawing its way around his tongue, a smell that he could also taste, in a way.

"That will do for now, pet."

It would have to. She could not smell a thing from inside the plastic box, sealing the valve up again quickly and ensuring all was locked away. He slumped against the bars of his cage, panting and heaving, blinking away moisture from his eyes, though he could not even pin his tail down for some semblance of modesty as everything clung to him, his humiliation nowhere near complete, heaving and snorting, even his nostrils moist. Not everything seemed to come together as he wanted it to, but it was not under his control.

He'd never wanted it to be under his control. Arctic sighed, closing his eyes. It didn't make things any better for him. Not even knowing that he had to do every sordid, vile, disgusting thing that his mistress wanted to put him through too.

He tried not to breathe too deeply as the minutes passed. It didn't help.

*

He didn't know how much time passed, though it was only a couple of hours, not that that helped him any. The pegasus grunted, so large that his hooves barely touched the floor. He could just about drag himself about the cage a little, but that last load of scat had inflated his belly more, making it more difficult still for him to even consider lumbering about the cage, hauling the sheer weight of his stomach forward and back, sliding and dragging.

The logs of scat in his belly, with nowhere to go through the rest of his body with his tail hole plugged up, stayed right where they were. His body could inflate to hold them, but that was not something that his body could digest, not even then, panting, his mistress standing before him without him even realising that she had returned. Grunting through the gag, Arctic tried to show her how hard it was for him to move, the posture collar feeling, finally, as if it was a part of his body that could never again come off his body.

Maybe it had always been meant to be there. There was some depraved part of him that liked the restriction, though it was not quite possible for him to say why.

"Hello, pet."

He flinched, eyes averted. Was there any point in begging anymore? He didn't know, could not know, groaning softly, his nose tipping slightly down.

His hooves flailed as the larger pony dragged him out of the cage, towards the same tub as before, even though he looked at it with horror. There was nothing good that could come of that tub, nothing good at all, flanks heaving, struggling with the weight of his body, the sheer volume of scat and piss filling his body putting pressure on his organs.

"Don't resist, pet."

The steel in her tone cut through him as he whimpered, lowering his head. It was no use, no use at all, though she did, finally remove the posture collar, bringing a fresh ache to his neck, working its way back down his spine. Mistress shy tied off the leash to his regular collar, which had been beneath, though locked it to the edge of the tub so that he had to watch what she was doing without being able to pull away.

Arctic groaned, though could not look away as Mistress Shy emptied her bowels first into the tub, a steaming pile of shit piling up as her pucker pulsed and pushed out lump after lump. Like before, it was not all the same consistency, some watery splatters oozing forth, dripping and trickling, the thicker logs pushing out in a thick "plop plop plop", all to add to the pile.

Thicker, rounder droppings topped it all off in a steaming mass of scat as Arctic moaned, able to easily anticipate what the half-full tub had in store for him. Maybe he would have liked to do more with her, considering Mistress Shy's larger size, but that was of no option to him as she squatted over the tub again, relieving her bladder too.

"Ahhh... Much better..."

The stench of piss mingling with shit had him gagging, not that the ring gag helped him in the slightest. His breath caught, flanks shuddering with a heavy line down the side, tail trying to flag, though it was still sodden, if a little drier, with her piss. Maybe he would never feel dry again.

The piss and scat mixture mushed together as she unlocked his leash from the side of the tub, unclipping it from his collar too before shoving him, head-first, into the tub. It was abrupt, as if it was an everyday event to her, Arctic gasping, his world turning brown. Slushy scat mushed around him as he tried not to get it in his mouth, though that was impossible with his mouth forced open with the ring gag, squashing it all in against his will. Pushing it out with his tongue was a futile endeavour, but he still strived with all his might to ward off his humiliation for a little while longer.

Mistress Shy wasn't having any of that, grabbing him by the collar at the back of his neck and shoving his face into it.

"Swallow it down, pet - I'm watching."

He had to, there was no other choice! His legs quaked, joints weak and achy even then. Scat and piss swilled into his mouth and he maintained eye contact with her as he swallowed laboriously, wondering if he would ever want to swallow anything at all down ever again. Maybe, maybe not, though times would carry on, changing, the larger mare rolling him over, pushing him onto his back so that as much scat as possible was smeared into his coat. No more was he destined to bear the yellow and green marks of her piss, even some of her smoggy gases having marked his mane and forelock, but stained in brown, some of it a darker, richer shade of green struck through.

"You've got my hooves dirty!"

Making a face, she shoved her forehooves into his face, letting his tongue come out, weakly swiping along her hooves, though he was exhausted, cleaning them. There always seemed to be more scat there, her dirty, mucky hooves shoved into his face, and his tongue flicked out, again and again, pushing along them, lapping and swirling, trying to do as she asked.

His muzzle, however, wrinkled in disgust, at the thick taste of scat penetrating his muzzle, bits working their way down his throat when he tried so very hard not to swallow. Then there was the stench, the cloying reek, how it clung to him, sank into him, stained his coat in ways that he had not even realised were possible, up close and personal to the process, for once. Coming from Mistress Shy, all of it was so much more intimate than he had been expected, even if it was a lot, so much, a time of change in their relationship that he wasn't so sure he was up for, ultimately.

But that was exciting. Exciting in a way that he didn't want to consider, as much as his guts churned, roiling with discomfort. The pain could not be ignored as he lapped her hooves, scat smeared into his coat and squelching obsessively.

He slipped down, whimpering, rocking his hips back and forth as she hauled him from the tub, rubber socks encasing her forehooves. They were cute, in a way that he had not considered before, but he didn't want to say anything as the gag held his mouth open, stifling a whine, sitting there as scat slid down his body, his pale hide stained dark brown, obviously gross. His head was tipped back, a funnel locked into the gag, though it was not as if the ring gag was still needed. His jaws could stay open for longer still and it was another play on control for her, another way in which she could use and dominate him.

"Bottoms up, pet."

The use of her calling him "pet" should have soothed him, but there was no way that it could as he submitted, keeping his head tipped back, swallowing hard, scat forced down his throat. If he did not swallow, it would squash out the corners of his mouth and that would upset his mistress more, and he couldn't have that. He had to please her, had to do everything possible for her, sinking deeper and deeper into submission while his belly bloated.

After all, there was over half a tub of scat and piss in there, maybe three-quarters full, pouring into his guts. The tube of the funnel crammed into the gag a little more securely as it poured straight down his throat, pump after pump, the tub held up over his head, tipped by a pony who was so much stronger than him. Mistress Shy held the scat tub easily in her hooves, clad in rubber socks, ensuring that she stayed clean even while she filled up her pet.

His stomach grew, squashing out to the sides of his body, though there was nowhere for him to go. His hooves did not touch the floor, flailing to either side of him, panting and heavily, eyes half-closed, gulping and gulping, doing as she willed, even as his stomach revolted, thrusting back against the drive of scat. The taste of it still pulled over the back of his tongue and his mind filled in the rest of the gaps in the raw reek of it, stomach gurgling as it was forced to take down everything, absolutely everything.

He couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to, whimpering and trying to turn his head back and forth, the tension in his neck building all over again, even without the posture collar in place. He grunted and shook, struggling to bear through it, eyes watering. Through it all, some part of him wanted to do it for her, even as his belly succumbed to pressure, bulging out to the sides, lifting him further from the floor so that his hooves dangled a foot from it, even when he stretched down. His belly was larger than his body, lumpy and bloated, tail flicking weakly back and forth, but it was not for him to protest, her dirty toilet slut, there to be abused and punished for his misdemeanours against his mistress.

"Oops, seems we forgot something, pet..."

The funnel pulled from the gag, allowing one last dollop of scat to plop onto his muzzle, marking his face, over his nose, into even his nostrils. He grunted, trying to pull his tongue back, but it was not to be as he whimpered, mane falling down his neck in a stinking mess, hair all clumped together into thick locks and lumps. Mistress Shy set him back, shoving his shoulder so that he wobbled off-balance, plopping onto his butt with his huge, gurgling stomach out in front of him, offering some balance. It kept him in place, at least, though that was little comfort as the ropes came out again - not the good ones, the ones that would be thrown away later, after they reeked of scat and piss and Celestia knew what else.

"Urf..."

Mistress Shy made a show of waving her hoof in front of her nose as she sat him perhaps a little more comfortably on his backside, shifting his position so that he was not perched so much on his pelvis, though a pony like him was never supposed to sit in such a position. There were more aches and pains in his body than just the strain of his bloated belly, though he couldn't do anything about that, only grateful that it helped balance him a little.

He wobbled. It helped, but not enough.

Ropes lashed him in place, tightening around his chest, keeping his forelegs tucked up to his chest, so that they were well out of the way of his stomach. But what she wanted to show him was the pipe coming down across the ceiling, her eyes following it even as his even could not help but follow the line of it...

...All the way to a point halfway down the wall where it connected to another. Arctic could not have known what Mistress Shy had planned, yet his stomach still chilled.

"Ooof!"

She made a face at the pipe, for that manner of play was not her inclination, disconnecting it as the smell from within seeped forth. Yet there was a hole for the end of it to fill, attaching a flexible hose to the open end of the pipe and stopping up what was left unused, so as not to let that smell get into everything in her playroom unduly. The hose crinkled lightly, the extendable ripples in its length compressed in some places and let out in others, though the tip could be inflated in a ring that would fit perfectly behind the ring gag still in his mouth.

"I'm having guests over for dinner, pet, but I do not require your services up there today."

She fixed the hose to the gag, pumping up the inflatable ring on the inside, locking it in place behind the gag where only she could remove it. Arctic whimpered, squirming, his belly gurgling, overfilled with scat.

"I do not want any embarrassing issues like last time, the pipes getting clogged... This is where you come in."

The evil smirk on her face, the wild edge of her mane - both things sent a sharp pang of worry into his gut. His shaft, however, was plump and hard, the cock ring fixed in place, keeping him aroused even if it pressed down in such a way as to make orgasm difficult, if not impossible. That was one of the positions that she liked him to be in.

"You'll take it all, pet, and I know you have room in you. Look how big you were after you came back from the castle! If I have lots of friends around...maybe we'll even surpass that. Who knows?"

He whined, flailing in his bondage, though he hardly seemed to be moving at all, muscles twitching, pulling, as helpless as he'd ever been. Yes, his belly could inflate, bloating out more and more, his balls and bladder too. Perhaps there simply were too many parts of his body that could be blown up and abused, making him the perfect victim, an ideal target for ponies just like Mistress Shy that knew how to use and abuse him, to bend a weak little pony like him to their dirty, sordid, filthy will.

He stayed there, alone, Mistress Shy disappearing, still larger than she had been, though he was sure it would become all part of their talk up in the cottage. It must have been later than he'd thought if she was hosting a dinner party or something larger, though it was a moment of respite for him that he could not help but take.

His cock throbbed, pulsing lightly, testing the limits of that cock ring, even as it kept him hard, wanton even if the bondage would not have done so. The pegasus tongued the hose lightly, the fresh and clean rubber coming with a strong taste that did nothing to wipe the feel of scat in his mouth, the lingering aroma and taste in the back of his mouth.

The toilet above him gurgled. He didn't want to think about it, though he could not have thought that it would take long at all for the pipes to churn waste down to him, the less than willing toilet slut in the basement. Arctic whined, something thick and dirty grinding into his muzzle, mixing with the saliva on his tongue, pushing into the back of his mouth where he had no choice but to swallow. The ring gag pressed most of his tongue down but, with the scat squelching through his mouth, he could not help but taste it, all the while shuddering at the sense of hooves clip-clopping above his head.

So many ponies. And all of them had needs, using him without even really knowing that they were using him, contributing to his debasement. He grunted thickly, trying to slip away to a different reality, though that was not possible as waste funnelled straight into his mouth, squeezing down his throat. If he'd known the ponies better, he might have been able to guess who was excreting into his mouth, but all he knew was the texture of their waste, the musky taste of it, winding through the filth.

Some excreted typical "horse apples", round droppings that were hard to swallow. The logs of waste pushed their way down, somewhat connected. Splattered, watery droppings hinted at a different kind of diet and went down easier, though was the filthiest kind of waste to take down his throat. It just seemed to get everywhere, flowing under the ring gag into his mouth, swilling around his tongue and teeth, hacking and gagging and, finally, striving to resist in some small way.

It was hard, and only possible because he breathed through his nostrils rather than his mouth. Even as a gush of urine, potent and reeking strongly, flowed down his throat, he forced himself to stop swallowing the scat, despite everything. Holding it back, he grunted and resisted the natural urge, disgust pushing through the pit of his gut. Maybe there was still some manner of rebellion in him from the day before, or was it a couple of days earlier... Time was difficult to keep track of, but he forced it back, no longer "flushing" the waste of the party guests for his mistress, hooves moving back and forth above his head.

Of course, she had to notice as it backed up in the pipe, his belly gurgling, though inflating slowly as he took down only one pony's worth of waste at a time. Mistress Shy stormed down the steps to the playroom with her eyes already narrowed, her mane fluffed up and prim and proper again, though the glare in her eyes should have sent more of a chill down his spine than it did.

"This..." She stopped dead in her tracks, eyeing up his bulging throat, his strained eyes, the gurgling rumbling of his gut. "This will not do."

Somehow, those cold words were more chilling than her anger, though he held fast. Truthfully, there was too much scat for him to swallow anymore, blocking up the entire length of the pipe back up to her toilet, and she yanked the pipe out with a savage growl, unbuckling the ring gag. Sweet relief was his as he worked his jaw for only a moment, a thick, huge length of silicone dildo ramming into his mouth.

"Mmmph! Unnff!"

No! She had a massive toy between her hooves, using it to messily ram the waste down his throat, the mushed-up mess of scat and toilet water and piss, slamming it past the blockage that had been entirely of his own doing. He grunted and groaned, his stomach bulging, swollen out before him as it dwarfed the size of his actual body.

If he hadn't resisted, maybe things would have gone better for him, even as she shoved the silicone length down his throat too, forcing the waste all the way down. The pony chuckled, prodded it deeper, a glint in her eye as she forced the toy deeper and deeper, the toy slick with waste and filth, a huge bulge in his throat betraying its passage. It didn't need to be gentle, of course not, grinding on, shoving more and more into his guts, jamming it crudely into him.

Yet she did not stop there, whereas she could have simply used the toy to cram the waste down his throat. Oh no, she had something far worse in mind for the pony, grinding and pushing, the dildo one without a flared base so that it could be pushed violently past his teeth, no matter how hard his tongue pushed at it. He wailed and whimpered, muted and muffled, and Mistress Shy ignored him as she forced the toy into his throat too.

"Swallow!"

What else could he do other than to obey, though it took several, hard, sobbing swallows before the dildo pushed down his throat, bulging it out, showing how it travelled down into his stomach, where it joined the rest of the filth. Heaving and gasping, Arctic tried not to think about the wetness around his eyes too much. His mistress... He only had to think of her. Then he could get through it.

Mistress Shy chuckled. It was too easy to abuse him sometimes... And it made her heart sing, leaping, pounding, almost as roughly as she drove the toy down into his throat. Freeing the way for her toilet slave, Mistress Shy brutally took him, opening him up. Only then could she take the hose again, without the ring gag, and cram it down his throat straight after the dildo had been removed, only to lock it in place, binding it there crudely and roughly with a length of rope wrapped around and around his muzzle so that it could not possibly slip free.

"Get it all down, pet..."

She laughed as she left, leaving Arctic there, once more, with a heaving volume of waste to take down him, belly gurgling all over again as it was forced to swell. The taste of scat lingered in his mouth even though he could not feel it sliding over his tongue anymore, yet she stripped all resistance from him so efficiently that it was hardly something that he could believe was present before.

Why had he fought back? He moaned and closed his eyes, though that only heightened other sensations, how tight his throat felt around the hose, how much he wanted to swallow something fresh and clean. Yet the only fluid that seeped down his throat into his stomach was piss and toilet water, the squashed-up scat flowing in a more sludgy fashion, even though it only had one place to go.

It could only go into her slave stallion, for he could not be a pet when he was so filthy, dirty, scat clinging to every part of his body, reeking of so much waste that he could not possibly ever think of being clean. His lumpy stomach bloated out and out, though it was hard for him to see, large enough that it pressed up against the bars of the cage, though he was outside it. That meant that it had to be at least two metres in diameter to reach that, a thought that send a fearful shudder through him, panting and trembling away, whimpering, wishing for relief. That was not to come, however, as waste bulged into his stomach, bloating out, fat and swollen, a lumpy slut that was only there for the sole purpose of servicing their toileting needs.

The cage creaked as he pressed into the bars from the outside, a spanking bench bumping across the rubber floor as his gut pushed it out of the way. He was not even recognisable as a pony anymore as the strain in his throat grew, his belly inflated, a lumpy mess, stained and marked with filth upon filth. The fluid within him only marginally cushioned it, though it was small comfort to him as his belly grumbled, trying to rebel, striving to revolt, yet Mistress Shy had made sure that he was plugged from both ends with no option to escape.

Continued in part six...