The morning was like any other for Cherry Stellar, once again finding herself in a discussion with her former lieutenant. During their morning martial arts class they had talked about their weekend and how they had enjoyed the rest they managed to get, as well as discussing their plans for the coming week. It hadn’t taken long though for her best friend to return to a point that he brought up at least once a week, at most once every morning: a subject that annoyed her in a sense but it also made her happy to know that she was still wanted, quite desperately it seemed.

“I don’t get it, Cherry. You can continue modelling even if you join up again.”

Cherry rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time, giving a mighty flap with her wings to send herself into a spinning kick aimed at the white-coated buck’s muzzle. Her sparring partner talked too much. He was a talkative, arrogant colt with a short-cropped electric blue mane and toxic green eyes that — in the right light — seemed to glow. “I told you,” Cherry growled in retaliation, landing on top of his muzzle, balancing skillfully on a single hind hoof. “I’m not.” She leapt back in a somersault and kicked him firmly on the nose, restraining herself so she didn’t break his snout. “Interested!” she yelled, landing on her hind hoof once more, retaining her ready stance with a cocky smirk. “You’ve known that for a year now. Gale, I’m happy where I am in life.”

“But we miss you,” he started in that low baritone voice of his, a voice that always sent unwanted shivers down her spine. “At least consider helping with training the new recruits?” He lowered his guard, though before the small pegasus could even strike there was the sudden and quite ominous swoosh of teleportation magic. She whirled around just in time to watch one of his hind hooves kicking at her chest. Her eyes widened in shock as he knocked the wind out of her and she was sent across the room like a tiny lilac flower dancing in the breeze, barely regaining control before landing on all fours a good few feet away from the tall stallion. She simply glared at him with gritted teeth. “I mean… there aren't many ponies whose special talent is marksmanship,” he offered with a casual smile.

She glanced back to her cutie mark, the golden shield with wings on either side and a marksman’s crosshairs in the centre.

He talked too much, of that she had no doubt, but he was at least good in a fight. Collecting her thoughts and suppressing the annoyance his insistence caused her, she barrelled towards him with a fitting battle cry that’d make any mare or stallion in the guard proud, especially coming from a mare that looked like she was no older than fifteen. Cherry had long since learnt to cope with her growth defect, in particular when it came to much larger ponies like Lieutenant Winter Gale. Compared to her, the unicorn was slow and as she launched herself into the air. She brought down the full fury of the Fallen Caesar style martial arts on his biggest weak point: his horn. She only really got one good hoof kick in, but it was all she needed as he leapt away from her in alarm. “Less talk. More sparring, Gale!”

He rolled his eyes a little at the tiny mare. “Admit it: you love our talks,” he stated flatly, throwing her a swift forwards jab with his right forehoof, only to growl in annoyance. The slippery mare easily glided aside with a flap of her wings; moving with the air displacement was like catching a fish with your hooves. He grunted louder as one of her hind hooves clocked him under the jaw. She didn’t waste the opportunity she had created for herself, starting a flurry of bucks and punches at his chest and underbelly. To the untrained eye it might look like a filly hitting at a large muscular buck aimlessly and causing no damage, but anyone who knew the style could see she was hitting quite a few painful pressure points. With another fierce war cry, she followed the barrage up with a buck to his belly, winding him quite effectively. He fell to his side with a loud thump that echoed through the room, followed by the gentler sound of gasping for air. Cherry finished off the entire manoeuvre with a sharp buck to Gale’s windpipe which never actually connected as she stopped bare millimetres away from it.

“I love our talks, Snowy. But I’m not coming back to the guard,” she commented with a cocky little smirk. “Also I believe that this means lunch is on you?” she reminded him casually, walking away from the stallion to her bottle of water. She cast a look over her withers at him, throwing him that ice queen look that she was so well known for back in the guard. “Also… you’re getting old, Lieutenant. I’m afraid if I come back they’d retire you and give me your position.” She chuckled softly, standing balanced on her hind legs while chugging down a good half of the bottle of water.

He hit her with his worst death glare. “I hate you at times… you know that? One of these days I am getting my revenge.” Gale groaned under his breath as he stood up slowly, the pain in his chest making itself quite apparent. “You could have contained yourself; that actually hurt… a little.”

“What? You’re the manly buck here! I’m just a tiny filly!” she countered with a small smirk, watching the blush slowly creep onto his pale cheeks. Cherry was far from able to keep a serious look on her face. It was a lovely sight seeing the hard-ass sergeant turned lieutenant, that had been her mentor of sorts in the guard, blush like he was a colt back in school seeing his first crush. “So… shower then lunch? I’m starving after that round of dance practice,” Cherry said, throwing the bottle towards her friend with a little grin. “Unless you’d rather trot off to sulk?”

He caught the bottle in his magic with a small sigh. “Lunch sounds good. And I am not you, who sulks after a loss… you’re the one who was sour all day after I kicked your flank last Friday,” Gale quipped trotting to the locker rooms with his signature grin. It was Cherry’s turn to blush as he reminded her of the last time she had taken a loss at his hooves.

“Oh shut up.” She rebuked, following him out, smiling from ear to ear.

Afternoons were a bit of a wild-card for Cherry. She was going to either be bored senseless with nothing to really do or she would be drowned in her modelling work, going from one shoot to the next in a flurry of action. If you’d asked her if she enjoyed her work in those busy moments, she would say she hated them and everypony that was rushing her all the time. That is, until she was actually in front of the camera: that was the moment she loved with a passion. That part she craved, one might even say she relished in it, showing off her outfits in new provocative poses for everypony to see. It was one of the few things that drove her wild with excitement… well, that and her time at the rather exclusive secret society she and many like her adored.

This afternoon, after having her lunch with Winter Gale and having him cry ‘highway robbery’ at how much she cost taking out to lunch, was one of the latter kinds. She has been herded from one photo shoot to the next, most of them way too tame for her tastes. Those bored her to no end, the worst being the shoot for the centrefold of Cloudsdale’s wingboner magazine where she had been refused clothing in anything that could be considered deviant. After that followed a shoot for carriage advertisement… sometimes she could swear her agent was just taking the piss with her and seeing how far he could go before she got aggressively agitated with him… but he also knew how to get her high-paying gigs. The set she was looking at now though was quite appealing: mouth watering even, when compared to the blandness she had been suffering through before now.

The room had been enchanted to show the appearance of a dungeon from the Equestria of old. Middle of the night, dark grey, almost black stones and a brazier with a hot poker inside giving off a dim husky light. Various other ancient instruments of torture were set out the background, adding the final touches to the intimidating chamber… a pillory stood in the middle of it all. Cherry was almost sure this was setup to imply something more, something she would eagerly agree to do… were it not for the fact that she was here in a professional capacity and not for personal entertainment. Although it certainly gave her ideas for what she was going to be looking for tonight at her three day getaway. She couldn’t help but smirk a little as she approached the pillory, lightly stroking a hoof along the polished oak surface.

She didn’t actually know which magazine the shoot was for; she had been told beforehand but she had forgotten it in the hurry of needing to get into her outfit, not to mention they weren't well-known to her in the first place, if at all. She assumed they were a new start-up fetish magazine. The outfit she was wearing made her feel particularly sexy. Each curvy leg was smothered by abyssal-purple, latex hoof socks and her groin a matching pair of panties that outlined her marehood perfectly, in addition to four black shoes to keep her socks from getting damaged while walking. They weren't actually metal, unlike those of the the princesses who donned similar ones as a part of their regalia, except hers were a polished enchanted obsidian, they were like glass without being nearly as fragile. To top it all off, a blue unicorn mare had cast a pretty intricate illusion on her: nothing drastic had been changed though she had been shocked to see her own reflection only to find a spiralled horn on her forehead. It was in that moment that the title of the shoot suddenly made sense; ‘The Fall of a Princess’. The concept still brought a small blush to her cheeks, especially when she saw the blue coated and black maned unicorn buck that was her co-star for the shoot.

She motioned to one of the staff. “I’m ready,” Cherry announced, taking a deep breath and stepping up to the pillory. She eagerly rested her hooves in the half circles and her neck in the centre one, tail already flagging to the waiting stallion. To her shame, her self-control couldn’t hold out to the fantasy of what he might do to her… even though this was a photo shoot and not a full porno, she could already feel her wanton marehood winking and rapidly moistening. Biting her bottom lip she cleared her mind of all distractions — a hard task, considering the unicorn buck was brandishing a flogger, though the amateurish way he was practising his swings killed her mood quite effectively. Great, they got a complete amateur. Not that he would actually be allowed to hit me, still it would have been more fun if they’d at least sprung for a professional, she thought to herself with an internal sigh. If there was a bigger turnoff than that, she was yet to find it. This was going to be a long, uninteresting afternoon.

It was late evening by the time she was done. The shoot had turned out as disappointing as she had expected the moment she saw her co-star for what he was. A pretty face and nothing more than that. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up, she scolded herself bitterly. The flight home was quite the uncomfortable affair, having let control go meant there was this annoying heat in her loins as she flew through the chilly night sky, her outfit stored in one saddle bag, while her trashy take-out dinner was stored in the other.

She was happy that it was over at least. And still she couldn’t get over the setup of the last shoot. She had acted out her best impression of a mare in submission, which was surprisingly hard when your co-star wasn’t actually allowed to touch you. But somehow she had managed.

Banking to the right, she sent herself on a course for the window to her apartment. She was too tired to even bother entering the complex through the front door. Not to mention she actually had to hurry for a little if she was going to be at her and her compatriots’ little club on time. It was the only reason she would bother with take-out that was as unhealthy as this, definitely not because she had a bit of a taste for junk food.

She smiled a little, making a graceful landing on her sofa. Her belly resting on a pillow, she slipped her saddlebags off, pulling out the paper bag with her hay fries and burger that went with them. “Come to Cherry, little one…” she cooed softly with a silly giggle.

Having wolfed down her guilty pleasure of hay fries and burger, she grabbed a quick but well-needed shower to make herself more presentable, then she had slung her overnight saddle bags over her back. She had nothing to do in the following two days, having purposefully kept those days free knowing that she might not be in a state to show up for any kind of photoshoots the days after going to her little meet up.

As such she found herself in the meeting spot for like-minded ponies in her neighborhood that were heading there too. She could easily recognise a good few of the ponies gathered there. Most of them she knew only from hearsay, like the Captain of the Wonderbolts who was currently snuggled up between two stallions, one a fellow Wonderbolt celebrity Soarin’ and the other a caramel coated earth pony she hadn’t seen before. A noticeable sight was the tall snow-white-coated mare with a fleur-de-lys cutie mark and a lovely pink mane, who was obsessively leading three adorable smaller mares along on a leash already.

While elsewhere there were ponies she had never actually seen before, a few of them looked nervous as if it was likely their first time, joining them to the society most of them were snuggled against ponies who she assumed were either their lovers or the ones that had been tasked with bringing them in. She remembered her first time quite fondly, she had been approached by a sweet mare with a cream coat and a caramel and cotton candy mane. She had never met Autumn Delight personally before that, however she had seen her and knew about her reputation as one of the arch-magi. Noticing the mare not being there was a slight let down; they had become good friends and she had been a wonderful mentor and Master. Others were covered in hooded travel cloaks not wanting to be recognised. A sentiment that she herself used to share, that was until she’d given up on trying as ponies always seemed to recognise her almost unique short stature anyway.

Movement to her left caught her eye: a rather tall mare with a grey coat and a golden yellow mane highlighted with strokes of platinum blond. Cherry slowly scooted away from her, thanking Celestia that the mare was too busy making out with the stallion who had his wing draped around her barrel. Sweet Celestia, what is mother doing here!? she mentally shouted, cursing the universe for her having to see her adoptive mother here of all places. Cherry didn’t need to know her mother was a member of their kinky club. Taking up a place behind a cloaked figure she let out a tiny sigh. The portal couldn’t open fast enough for her.

The wait for that event wasn’t a long one, luckily. The thought of being approached by Starsong about being a member too would be awkward. Even though she was her adoptive mother, she was still her mother! And it wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have, ever.

The tell-tale single strike of the large grandfather clock announced it was the seventh hour and the rush of magic accompanied by the swoosh of the portal materialising was enough for her to sigh in relief, making herself scarce in the crowd before Starsong had a chance to even notice her.

She felt a shiver running down her spine as she stepped through the watery texture of the portal. It was always a strange sensation being transported from Canterlot to the old clock tower nestled in the ridges of Ghastly Gorge. The place held a foreboding atmosphere. Cherry clearly remembered the first time she stood before the ancient building, watching in awe as it reached up towards the heavens, its form illuminated by braziers, the luminescence of its clockface rivaling that of the moon. It had made her weak in the knees. Even now, five years later, it inspired the same awe in her, but she wasn’t weak in the knees anymore. She was proud of it; it felt like coming home. It was so much more a home to her than the Canterlot apartment she lived in. Here she didn’t have to hide who she was; she could be herself; she could be proud of herself without the fear of being judged by other ponies. Here she was normal.

With a little sigh, she reached into one of her saddle bags with a wing, pulling out the golden membership badge: a simple plain gold coin with a stylised emboss of a clock tower, the words ‘Clocktower Society’ curved above and below the emblem. Getting in line with the rest of the ponies in the spacious stone plaza was a situation packed with organised chaos. Ponies knew where they needed to be. Even though the newbloods looked a little nervous, they soon fell in step with the rest, eagerly following on to their new lives as she once did.

“Home, sweet home,” Cherry whispered to herself with a small, tender smile.

It had taken twenty agonising minutes for Cherry to get inside. Her arrival in the Submissive Locker rooms almost had her interrupt an ongoing, and pretty hushed, conversation, were it not that the mares were too engrossed in their own little chatter to even notice that somepony had entered.

“I’m not joking. They came for Sweetie Belle last week,” one of the mares said in a hushed tone, looking a little spooked even. It was the way she said ‘they’ that caught Cherry’s interest. “She was simply given a bridle and a gag, she tested her safety bell and then they took her away.”

“They must have taken her there, to that place,” one of the others whispered, almost conspiratorially.

“'And she was never seen again!” the first mare chimed in with a firm nod. “Gone, just like the others!”

“What are you two on about? I saw her at the market yesterday,” the third one said, with a roll of her eyes.

“That wasn’t her!” the first mare countered sharply. “That was an empty shell, no pony comes back from there without being changed!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about — we had tea and a lovely talk!”

“Hush up, stop ruining it!” the second mare protested, and with the last of their preparation done, they took their leave. Cherry pondered the conversation with a small smile. There was always at least one mare a month that would be taken from the slave pens; she had witnessed quite a few. She shuddered a little at the thought. Even she didn’t really know where they were taken. She knew that they came back changed ponies. She had known some of the mares, they had gone down as red or white collars and some of them had returned with black, or even the deep purple ‘eternity’ collars.

She had finally arrived at the slave pens after putting on her red collar with its silver studs and its orange and purple bands along with the matching hoof cuffs. She was left comfortable in her cage doing one of the things she loved most: being eye candy for two handsome pegasus bucks, who seemed to be watching her in rapt fascination. One of the masked stallions, a younger light grey coated pegasus with a darker grey mane appeared somewhat nervous to her, while the bigger stallion with his ashen grey coat and a dual-toned white and blue-ish grey mowhawk of all things. The latter of the two had an amused cocky, confident smirk on his muzzle.

Cherry didn’t pay mind to the younger stallion’s nervous state; she estimated him to be around eighteen or nineteen and assumed it was probably his first or second time. She instead focused on the little show she was providing them with, her flank pressed against the bars and her cheek nuzzled into the the cold metal floor, the cool metal bar grinding between her damp labia. As she rocked her hips up and down against the steel, her arousal dripped down the bars making a small puddle at its base. She was letting out the most adorable mewls of desperate need. Her cherry red and cream coloured tail held up high, forcing her to constantly present herself by a dock ring that leashed to her collar, allowing her just enough movement to ring the crystal safety bell that was braided in her tail. Even as she swished her tail though the enchanted bell made no sounds; it would only make a sound if she willed it to.

Biting her bottom lip, she cast a steady look at both stallions over her withers, giving each of them those needy bedroom eyes, the eyes of a mare eager — or rather desperate — to serve their pleasure. “Masters, p-please tell me how I might please you,” she purred in that husky temptress voice, a honey sweet and pleading voice that would give a succubus a run for her money. The result led to Cherry having to suppress a tiny giggle as the smaller stallion stumbled back ever so slightly, being snapped back to reality as she spoke up.

Thunderlane — at least Cherry assumed that was him behind the mask — didn’t stifle the chuckle that escaped him at the expense of of the smaller stallion, even letting it grow into full blown laugh for a short moment. “Dude, you should have seen your face when it talked!” he announced with a small grin, drawing some curious glances from nearby ponies. She couldn’t stop herself from giggling just a little at the stallion’s antics. Her reward for daring to giggle at the two was a quite firm and sudden slap to her flank, coaxing a sweet moan of delight from Cherry in response.

“See? It makes sounds. Now you try, little bro’,” the stallion said, talking about Cherry as if she were an animal unable to understand them. It brought a small blush to her cheeks. She let out a cute little squeak as the smaller of the two — who she assumed was Thunderlane's little brother, Rumble — followed the older stallion’s example curiously striking her on the flank with a resounding and quite satisfying smack. Not at all bad for a newbie.

“P-please, Master, may I have another?” Cherry moaned pleadingly in response, panting ever so slightly in need. Pressing herself more firmly against the bars of her cage, her shapely flank swaying a little as she started grinding her clit against the unrelenting steel of the cage. “P-pretty please, may I have another!?” she whined, in a low, needy voice. She didn’t need to repeat her plea for a third time, both stallions each gave her a firm smack on the ass making her hindquarters jiggle a bit under the force of their combined assault. Thrusting back, Cherry let out a loud squeal of pleasure from both their hooves, and accidentally, slightly painfully, bumping her little love button on the steel bar. “T-thank you, Masters,” she mumbled, in a low subservient tone. “P-please use me as your little slut tonight…”

The lack of an answer made her feel somewhat disappointed. Actually she felt a tiny ember of resentment forming inside her chest at not being answered. An ember that she quite quickly stomped out. She, a slave, had no right to make demands of a Master, though the thoughts of what they might do to her as punishment made it quite tempting to act out like a complete brat.

It was then that something odd finally registered in her mind. There had been a sudden stark shift in the atmosphere of the room, one that made her acutely aware of the fact she was being stared at. It had suddenly gotten ominously silent, a rare thing for such a busy room. The pens were always a cacophony of sound. It was nearly never silent and if it was then… a shiver ran down her spine as the realisation hit her quite suddenly. A quick glance to the cage right next to her showed the cream coated mare slowly slinking back into the corner of her cage, staring near fearfully at something directly behind her.

A part of her wanted to follow the mare’s gaze, another part of her was pleading with her not to do it. It was quite the internal struggle but eventually curiosity won out over her fears. ‘They’ wouldn’t be there for her; they were likely there for the mare in the cage across from hers, she reasoned. Casting a glance over her shoulder made her want to scream in abject terror, but the scream died in her throat. She didn’t see their backs as she as hoping to. No. They, were staring right at her, silent and impassive as if wordlessly judging her.

They wore matching armour, it was the only thing that could Identify them. The armour was much like Lunar Guard armour in some respects, though the royal purple was replaced with a deep bloody scarlet, devoid of any markings. The creepiest part, to her and many others she had spoken to, was the lack of any eye slits. The wide unequine helmets only had a smooth reflective surface of tinted glass running its sharply curved width. It made it impossible to tell if they even had emotions… or if they were even really ponies at all. For all she knew, they were wraiths puppeteering the armour. That thought sent a shiver of fear down her spine.

It was only when the whispers started that Cherry finally realised they were waiting on her. Her eyes fell onto the bit-gag and the bridle lying on the cage floor. She hesitated for the longest of moments, petrified by the realisation that they were here for her, and then simply resigned herself to her fate. She gave her tail a wave, filling the room with a single bell chime, the sound deafening in the silence. To her, it was like the tolling of a funeral bell. They’d come for her. And she had to obey or suffer the consequences; consequences she realised no pony had any knowledge of. With a low whimper, she took up the offered items.

She gagged herself, which was the easy part as she could use her wings to secure it. The bridle took her a little more effort and a bit of mental cursing at herself. It would have been easy were it not for the sense of impending doom that was flooding her system, agitating her movements. The moment that the last buckle clicked into place, for a fraction of a second she pondered running. As one of The Quiet opened her cage and she stepped out meekly, the urge to run was quite efficiently dealt with as one of them grabbed her by the mane, the second bringing over an all-too-familiar looking yoke. It was a dark, almost black metal, the yoke’s surface depicting mares in various poses of submission. It, and its male counterpart, were items everypony master and slave alike would recognise and it left no doubt as to its wearer’s fate. With her hopes of flight shattered she kept her head held high but her eyes downcast. The yoke was quickly and quietly bound to the armour of both guards, leaving her rendered entirely helpless.

“She's going to be broken,” was a whispered phrase she heard most frequently from the onlooking slaves and masters.

“She's being taken 'there'” The whispers continued to send chills down her spine. There was almost a symphony of quiet murmurs and low careful whispers, as if they were all afraid to be taken themselves if they even dared raise their voices and anger at Cherry’s new wardens.

“There's no coming back when they take you 'there',” another whisper added to the former. She was being led out of the slave pens, every step making her heart sink further.

“Even if you do, you come back… different.,” another added to the hushed conversation.

“You come back broken,” another agreed, with fear evident in her voice. It was also the last whisper she caught as she was ushered out of the slave pens, and into the open on the most direct course to the deep dungeons.

The first thing that Cherry noticed was that everypony stopped to stare at her as she was paraded along the busiest part of the upper dungeon levels. A sharp gasp caught her attention, a glance at her forwards left showed the pony who she least wanted to see here on her path to the deep dungeons:er adoptive mother. Cherry could see the worry in her eyes. Her muzzle moved but words seemed to fail her.

Cherry managed a weak smile and a tiny, perhaps embarrassed, nod towards her. She was going to get an earful of motherly concern after this — that is, if she saw her again. The thought hit her like a freight train, although it was also pushed aside by the more rational part of her mind… the society wouldn’t let her come to harm, right?

It was a long descent down the spiraling staircase. Compared to the upper dungeon levels, the lower ones and the staircase down here were narrow and oppressive. It had a more dark and sinister feeling to it. It looked like the old Canterlot dungeons she had seen during the historical tour of the castle. Although there were no cobwebs or signs of corrosion down here, it was actually pretty well maintained in spite of its clear age and isolated nature.

Every progressing step filled her with a sense of dread. Cherry was being led to a place that was unknown to her. To a pony who had summoned her specifically for reasons she could only guess at. Here and there from the corner of her eyes she would catch a glimpse of ponies still; even a few safeword rooms, at least she assumed and hoped they were that.

The ponies walking beside her didn’t make things any less unnerving as they marched her along the long narrow hallway, their hooves making ne’er a sound giving the impression she was being escorted to the afterlife by a pair of ghosts. Off in the distance, she could already see the end of the line: the expansive underground hot spring reservoir.

The closer they drew to it, the faster her heart was pounding in her chest. There wasn’t any turning back. The water was too hot to swim even if she could get loose. The sheer hopelessness of her situation, and the sensation of helplessness, made her feel smaller and meeker then her lack of size ever could.

As they reached the water and she looked down, she came face to face with a grim-reaper-esque pony, standing as impassive as the guards on either side of her. It only added to her trepidation, but she was forced to walk down the stairs, not even daring to look the ghostly gondolier in the face.

She hadn’t set hoof on the prison boat for but a moment before its ghostly captain cast off without a word. Even his oar made no sound as it swayed back and forth, gliding them through the water. The silence was deafening and it was driving her mental. Yet every time she tried to speak, the words died on her tongue, like some unseen magical force was shushing her.

Ahead of her lay her fate, a part of the dungeons that was set apart from the rest of the lower levels. It was a small isle in the centre of the reservoir, encircled with worn stone walls and gated off. The top of the massive gate reached to the roof. Likewise below her she was quite sure that in the darkness of the water they reached to the very bottom of the lake. Another crushing blow to any pony even contemplating escape from the fate they were summoned to. At their approach, the massive wrought iron structures shuddered to life and opened enough to let the small vessel pass through.

The inside was cavernous. There was no other word for the large inner sanctum. It was circular in design, all surrounding a single well. For the most part it was the same dungeon design, lit by simple enchanted torches. She was simply dragged off the boat by the guards, having had in her moment of examination, forgotten the need to walk. Apparently she need not have in the first place… another stark reminder she was going whether she wanted to or not.

Her two silent jailors didn’t bother waiting for her as she cast a glance back, seeing the final crushing blow for any pony that has been hoping to make some kind of grand escape: the boat, and its ghostly occupant slowly sank, taking with them any last hope of return to normality.

Cherry was a bundle of nerves as they approached the well, and the ornate looking hook, it matching the yoke that she was wearing, its engravings and dark metal colouration. On the edge she could see various restraint items. The Quiet stopped a few hoof steps away and unceremoniously released her from the yoke.

The two stallions wasted no time pinning her wings to her side with a simple belt, that wrapped around her barrel. Each of them grabbed one of her hind hooves and pulled them apart, attaching to each a hoof cuff of a spreader bar. Lastly one of the guards cuffed her forehooves behind her back, leaving the small pegasus entirely helpless. It took a moment for her to notice the padlock on her collar being fiddled with, and then falling to the ground just in front of her.

One of the stallions attached the hook to the spreader bar while the other operated the winch to give it some slack before reversing the motion and dragging her upwards into the air where she dangled for a moment. And like that she was lowered head first into the well. To her, the well might as well been the maw of a dragon. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her instincts were screaming at her to flee. With a few staggering attempts at deep breaths, Cherry closed her eyes, and embraced it; whatever was waiting for her down there couldn’t be that bad, right?