“Johnson’s election could have been prevented if…”

The cursor blinked at the end of the phrase on him computer, as if taunting him to prove his brain hadn’t turned to aroused mush.

“-If Johnson had never been born. What the fuck kind of question is this?” Martin typed angrily, then slammed his laptop shut and put his hand to his head and sighed. He knew he shouldn’t be pausing, since Rainbow Dash or Adagio could wake up any moment and order him back to bed, but how was he ever supposed to write two pages on how his assigned president might not’ve been elected when 30 minutes before he’d be sleeping off a gang bang, and 30 minutes later he’d been getting another one?

He used to enjoy moments like these; alone in a room (in this case, Rainbow Dash’s kitchen) with only his homework, because he could at least pretend to have something else to think about. But after he saw Dash’s parents’ eyes glow green as their daughter waved her siren ring in their faces (Spitfire had proved extra baggage enough when she complained about not being able to come with them, and even siren’s had some sense of awkwardness when it came to parental sex), and then make their three guests tortellini as they congratulated Rainbow Dash on her ascension to sirenhood and offered to let her and Adagio use some of their toys on him, taking craps became the only moment of his day he felt any better. In the bathroom, he wasn’t forced to care about Benjamin Franklin or Ms Cheerilee when he knew that a person’s free will and independent thought could be snatched away by a rock.

But he already knew that, didn’t he? And both that train of thought and his struggling academics brought his mind back to the girl he was scheduled to have a study session with later that day.

He shared math class with Sunset Shimmer, and that class had gone through several units independent of what the equations looked like. First month since his transfer: “she’s hot”. Second month- Fall Formal: “She’s so smart and powerful, but kind of a bitch. I should probably focus on my work”. Month after Fall Formal: “Holy shit, did she actually do that! And she’s so nice now but what if I upset her and she relapses or what if-!”. Post capture: “Goddamnit, I’m killing your rehabilitators and friends one by one, and you're just giving me that meek smile! You’re supposed to be smart, why can’t you figure it out?”

Her ignorance was frustrating, but he’d stopped being angry at her for it after the first week or so. He’d gotten over the Fall Formal faster that most students because even if getting mind controlled by a demon girl was a new concept and took some adjusting to, he’d seen people change before, and grudges don’t really work in a life where one can be in another state by the end of the week. And now, even though he’d always figured she’d be the last for some reason, once the daylight shining through the window moved just a little bit further across the floor- oh fuck it’s already on there.

“*Yawn* What’s Cutie Pie doing out of the oven so early,” he heard Adagio’s voice coming from the doorway as if on cue, and cringed both at her terrible joke, and at the fact that, well, Adagio.

“I’m- uh,” he tried to explain without turning around, but was busy wondering how she got downstairs without him hearing it. He made a mental note never live in a house with marble stairs.

“Come on back to bed,” she motioned. “You can do homework later, and we still haven’t tried that ass of yours.”

Martin’s heart stopped for a moment when he realized what she’d said. For the past two weeks, he’d been ridden, groped, forced to grope, ridden, kissed, forced to kiss, forced to suckle, ridden, forced to eat out and even ridden. Alone with any of his mistresses, the air itself was thick with sex and misery, and every meeting with one he dreaded more than the last because Celestia would be forceful and would blow him until he came dry, Rarity would act professional and chastise his “uncouth” mannerisms, Spit and Dash would run his tongue raw and tease him for it, and Sonata would make him kiss her on the cheek and would snuggle-jerk him off in bed. But as of yet, his ass had simply been something to feel up and occasionally spank (as was the case last night). The first few times butt-plugs or anal beads came up in their internet searches, Martin would stare at the link in suspense, but miraculously none of his mistresses had paid them any heed. And thank god, because could feel how tight his sphincter was everytime he used it for its intended purpose, and he knew if anything like what he’d seen in porn or the thumbnails went up his ass, he wouldn’t be torn in half, he’d shatter.

So needless to say, when Dash’s mother had asked her daughter if her sex slave was an anal virgin, and Dash later eyed up one of their strap ons for a few moments longer than necessary, Martin felt the same terror he did back when Aria first grabbed his crotch.

And now he was standing up and shutting his laptop to follow Adagio upstairs. He was going to miss yet another homework assignment because he was literally being fucked up the ass. A doorbell never sounded to pleasant.

Adagio and Martin both froze in place, and slowly turned their heads in the direction of the front door, like two children who’d just heard a bump in the night.

“Should I answer it?” Martin whispered out of habit. Adagio took a moment to think, then turned around, evidently annoyed.

“This is their house. It’s probably for them,” she whispered back angrily, but instead of moving she fixed her eyes on the staircase, waiting for Dash’s parent to come down. Martin walked up to the doorless frame behind her to get a better view and waited with her.

Thirty seconds passed, just waiting, and they didn’t hear any upstairs doors open. Apparently, Dash’s disdain for Saturday morning’s was inherited from her parents, and was left untouched by the from of mind control either party received (though Martin figured if he got in bed with Dash again though, she’d get livelier than a caffeinated Pinkie Pie).

“Okay, go answer it. We’ll wait for you in the bedroom,” Adagio almost groaned in annoyance as she waved her hand at the door and started walking towards the stairs. Even when they were brainwashed to be more like her or to do whatever a siren said, good help was impossible to get, and Cutie Pie was the only one she could count on to do the stupid jobs.

And as much as he cherished every centimeter between him and Adagio, Martin wasn’t too keen on answering the door either. He’d more or less mentally gotten used to lying to people at school by now, but house calls were different. It was a fairly rare occurrence at his apartment after the first week when they all learned to keep the sex-induced decibels in double digits (he’d taken to leaving the door unlocked, and his mistresses never asked permission), but that just made each knock all the more frightening, because he’d have to explain something important or have something important explained to him with a constantly increasing number of horny sirens right behind him. Double embarrassment/fear if the visitor was female, because he’d have to keep the conversation short and pray his mistresses were actually close enough behind him to keep the necklace in check.

You’d never have known his anxiety from how quickly Martin obeyed Adagio though (which was kind of the point), but his mind raced through possibilities of who would be here at this hour, and what he would say to each of them, this not even being his house.

As he reached for the left golden handle, he looked back at Adagio to see she was already up the stairs and walking towards Rainbow Dash’s room, leaving everything to him. And even if she had stayed he’d learned last time it was a crapshoot on whether or not a single other person in the vicinity could reduce the spell’s effects enough. What would he do if it was a talkative woman? Enthralling Spitfire on accident had generated enough complaints, capturing a random Jehovah’s Witness or being forced to call Adagio down to brainwash the woman into leaving him alone would seriously damage his credibility as a puppet siren maker. When he swung the left door open, the sight of an empty driveway and street never looked so pretty.

Martin let go of the door handle to look around better. To the right: nothing but the parked sports car. To the left: bushes. And looking down, the front step was barren of package or newspaper. The idea of having imagined the doorbell crossed his mind for a millisecond before logic ruled it out. A dream perhaps? Then why was he at Dash’s house and not the boiler room or his apartment? As he leaned back in and turned around to head back inside, he came to the obvious conclusion that he was the unwitting victim of a ding-dong-ditch prank, and smiled at how thoroughly the joke was on the unoriginal prankster.

Seeing Adagio was gone, his mood lighter than it had been in quite some time, Martin reached for the door to close it. But then in one swift motion, a booted foot collided with the back of his right knee (again. Probably not very good for it) and an arm grabbed him around his chest, pinning his arms in place.

Before he could realize anything else about his attacker, he felt that they were young and female (by now, he knew that body type very well). The most obvious suspect was Rainbow Dash, whom a prank like this was most in character for. But his attacker’s body felt nothing like the one he’d spent the past few days getting to know very well; too big in the center, too slim on the arms. A split second later though, his suspect list was dramatically decreased when “had access to chloroform” was added to the criteria.

His nose constantly plugged by the smell of bodies and sex, the sickly sweet of the wet cloth that came over his face was almost refreshing. It clapped it over his nose and mouth, and he involuntarily gasped, halving his energy instantly.

His attacker yanked him backwards again, keeping him off balance and bringing them partway out the door. The sudden jerk up though gave Martin a view of the upstairs where he knew four different people would be able to hear him if he could yell. But crying out to girls who could simply hold up their rings or sing a tune and make his attacker let him go was actually something he had to think about.

When he envisioned half of the people upstairs’ faces, he also felt their tongues and tasted their juices. And when he envisioned the other two, their dead-eyed, smiling faces who’d literally told their daughter that she deserved to rule the world and had every right to brainwash anybody she wanted made him imagine the kind of future that was in store if he stayed with the Dazzlings.

He also, however, felt his necklace rattle inside his shirt, and remembered his attacker was female, and felt teenage. What if this was some other girl he’d accidently spent too much time with? And even if she wasn’t, you tend to get to know you’re kidnaping victim fairly well. He looked up at the balcony again and considered, but every debating thought he had was becoming harder to think, as he was breathing without realizing it. His eyelids were becoming heavy, his legs going limp beneath him, and he realized by the time he’d made up his mind to struggle or not, it’d be too late.

“Oh *mental yawn* well. At least Sunset’ll be safe and the girls will be frustrated. And why am I… even able… to consider… goodnight,” he thought as his eyes closed, and he went limp in his kidnappers arms. The last thing he heard sounded vaguely like “Dime Marry”.

The headache was the first thing Martin felt, even before he woke up. Like dehydration mixed with dizziness, it wasn’t excruciating, but it was enough to pull him out of his dreams of purple, orange and blue pterodactyls circling around his bed.

He felt something over his eyes, and opened them to see darkness with daylight seeping through the edges of his cloth blindfold. His neck was sore from hanging his head down, so with a slight groan he straightened his head up, feeling an affixed cushion behind him. The memory of his apparent kidnapping came back to him, but he was a fairly difficult boy to panic at this point. His head still swimming, but he calmly and methodically used his returning senses to work out where he was.

“In a chair. An easy chair. Hands are fixed in place by… what feels like belts. Same goes for my ankles tied around the wooden legs. Breathing Is difficult in both the mouth and the chest, and wires of some sort are cutting into my stomach through my shirt. I’m tied to the back of the chair with several coils of rope, and it feels like some kind or dishrag in my mouth, with, I think it’s called a cleave gag holding it in place.”

Smells of wood, grass, foods and… animals close by, as well as how natural what little light he could see was told him this was no abandoned warehouse either.

“Okay, I’ve been kidnapped, probably by a girl I know who’s under the necklace’s magic, and am in what’s probably a cabin of some sort. A few kids own cabins, and as in these past few weeks a lot more of my female classmates have been giving me lusty stares, so that doesn’t narrow it down much. I don’t have any rings on me though. Without that she may never let me go, so I’m not sure how I’m supposed to get out of this and back to mistresses,” but just as he realized that his apparent mission to get back home didn’t seem all that important, he heard a nearby wooden door slowly creak open and slowly close, but no footsteps.

Somebody was standing roughly 40 feet away from him. A girl he knew, with sizable natural breasts, access to a cabin and chloroform. He felt like he knew who it was from those criteria, but couldn’t place a name or a face. After almost 30 seconds, unless she moved quieter than a barefooted ant, neither of them had budged. Martin decided called out.

“Heho?”

“Eeep!” he heard the girl shriek, and he put the name to the face instantly.

“Huhherhy?”

“EEEEPP,” she shrieked even louder when he said her name. “Uuuh, I mean. Who’s Fluttershy? I am, umm, mast-mistress of, ummm,”

“Huhherhy! Hu heeh hu het-”

“Silence! Um, well, slave is a little harsh.” Fluttershy snapped back as loud as she dared, but then stumbled over which dehumanizing name to call her captive. Martin thought back to how quickly everyone else had been able to think up sexual insults and pet names for him, and wondered if it was just their shared senses of “humor”, or if most girls were just spent their lives thinking them up unable to use them.

“Harhinth hine, hank hu,” he said, hoping by now he spoke gag-speak well enough for her to understand him.

“Oh, okay, I’m sor-” Fluttershy paused, took a deep breath, and started walking over to him. “I’m sorry Martin, but I can’t let you hurt yourself with Sunset or those other girls.”

Martin conceded that technically she was right, but not in the way she meant, and stopped trying to figure out rapist logic to listen further.

“You are a handsome, smart, confident handsome boy who deserves a girl who understands you,” she continued, arriving in front of the blindfolded stud.

“Jesus christ, at least with the rings they can think rationally and share,” Martin grumbled in his head as he heard Fluttershy run through the entitled motions like Rarity and Dash had before her.

“You’re going- I mean, we’re going- I mean, you’re going to learn to love me out here, just like all my other pets!” she huffed, but then beamed as she realized how she’d inadvertently found a good name for him.

“Hime hot ha huckhing het,” Martin replied, almost sarcastically. Fluttershy was kind and accommodating, but rational argument hadn’t saved Spitfire or Dash.

“Hey!” Fluttershy shouted genuinely angry before scanning the room to make sure none of his friends had heard the insult. Martin heard just the faintest of swooshed in the air, and sensed she was holding some kind of stick in his face. “You can’t talk to my friends that way!”

He heard another movement, signalling she’d brought her arm back for a swing. He’d seen pictures of riding crops and sticks online, and while he was occasionally spanked over the table by hand and the hits from Rainbow Dash were fresh in his mind, he figured being hit with a stick would be a whole new kind of stinging pain. He scrunched his eyes under the blindfold and braced himself.

“Heeeyah” she swung towards his cheek… stopped within an inch of it, and tapped him lightly.

She pulled her hand to the other side, swung with another high-pitched but quiet shout, and brushed the stick against his cheek with enough pressure to maybe kill a mosquito there. Martin was a little confused, but wasn’t about to complain about not being whipped.

The don’t-really-wannabe dominatrix “swung” right and left, right and left, right and left, but couldn’t bring herself to actually hit him no matter how hard she tried. Finally, she sighed and dropped her arms panting.

“I’m sorry, this isn’t me,” she apologized, and the stuck dropped to the floor.

“Ho han hi ho?” Martin asked, still cautious to incur her wrath.

After a brief pause, she smiled.

“Oh no,” she leaned in, and her smile grew larger, but to the untrained eye, still without malice. “I just think we should do something we’ll both enjoy.”

“Hi hihy hout-” Martin was stopped as he felt her hands reaching around his neck and touching his choker’s buckle. He froze in place out of fear, but after just some minor fumbling it was undone, and she yanked it off.

When he felt the accumulated sweat on his neck finally start to cool, and heard the infernal garment clatter the floor behind her, he took the deepest breath his gag would allow, and rolled his head around to all the places the spikes wouldn’t, working off roughly a week of soreness. In doing this though, he felt the necklace chain, and paused. A happy Fluttershy took this as an opportunity to reach for his shirt and began undoing his buttons.

“Huhherhy?” Martin asked, as if he really had to.

“Shhh,” Fluttershy soothed as she split his shirt portion by portion, her eyes getting bigger and bigger as each few inches of his smooth, athletic chest was revealed. “I umm, I guess I’ll… take care of everything?”

Maud Pie might as well have given a pep rally for all the confidence that inspired in him, especially as the last button on his orange flannel was undone and she pulled the sides apart, exposing his entire front. Although it was quite warm in the cottage, his chest felt a chill. And no sooner did he feel his dick was still flaccid inside the blue leather (two things he knew it wouldn’t be for long) than he felt eight pokes in his stomach and ribs, and all hell broke loose.

“Ahhhgh! Ahhhgh! Ehuuuhhh Huuuh huuuh! Auugh!” he screamed as her fingers danced over his bare stomach and ribs. He hadn’t been tickled in years, and it was only after his capture that his constant flesh-on-flesh experiences had made him wonder if his skin was still as pants pissingly sensetive.

“Mmmmph! Urgh! Huh huh hagh huuu!” he squirmed and twisted, trying desperately to pull himself from Fluttershy’s evil digits, but his bonds, despite their improvised nature, held his fast, and his chair was heavy and didn’t budge.

Fluttershy moved both her hands to his ribs, barely able to contain her happiness at seeing the recent object of her affections tied up in front of her, spasming like he had ants- well, she’d sworn off offensive animal idioms, but like a little boy at her light caresses. His every squeal which her gag muffled, and shake her restraints suppressed made her more proud of herself; she’d was supposed to by weak, kind to a fault, afraid of her own shadow, and yet here he was, her prize and soon to be boyfriend, all because she’d gone above and beyond the call of duty and done what needed to be done to protect him. She knew he probably didn’t see it that way yet, but-

“Eeeuuuuugh! Uh! Uh!” Martin blurred the line between laughing and choking, and Fluttershy briefly wondered if this would have been better for the both of them without the gag. Without sight, her ten fingers lightly stimulating his nerves felt like a thousand fingers tearing his flesh apart. It didn’t feel painful, it didn’t feel pleasurable, but it was fucking torture!

Without pausing, his pink-haired captor moved onto his neck. His “laughs”, if one can even call them that through the cleave-gag, became lighter and quicker as he didn’t even concentrate enough to breathe properly.

“Heuh heuh heuh”, he shifted tilted his head from side to side, frantically trying to protect his overly sensitive (he had the collar to blame for that) neck that she was strangling with her teasing, torturing fingers, but he knew it was no use. His lungs began to burn, and as he jerked his legs around as far as the ropes around his ankles would allow, he felt his bladder get that terrible “lightness” feeling.

“Haaapth! Haaaaapth!” he begged with the last of his oxygen, but at this point he wasn’t sure if there was anything out there but prancing, lacerating fingers.

“Aaawww, how can I?” Fluttershy cooed, removing one hand from the attack on his neck and kneeling down by his lap, allowing him to at least somewhat catch his breath. “You’re just like Spike, only cuter!”

“Spike? Isn’t that name important some-oh please no!” Martin thought as he felt her hand on his crotch. He jammed his chin down on her hand than remained on his neck, trying to kill two birds with one stone by looking down, but A. blindfolded, and B. she moved it to the back of his neck, and started tickling his two most sensitive regions at the same time.

This wasn’t the first time he’d cursed his mistresses and Rarity in particular for forbidding him from wearing underwear, but now his the leather his prick was constantly sandwiched against was making her tickling of his bulge and tip through his pants actually pleasurable. Not immensely so (he certainly knew immense by now), but maybe it was because it was so much more subtle than the claws slashing at his neck or his mistresses normal “shenanigans” that he felt the familiar feeling of his cock pushing against his pants and ring so quickly.

Fluttershy saw the mound in his pants gaining altitude, and bared her teeth a wide grin.

“See?! He’s enjoying this! There’s nothing wrong!” she told herself as she continued running her fingertips over his tip as it rose.

She’d already begun to neglect his neck, so when Martin’s stood at full height she pulled both of her hands away and stared at the inviting tent in front of her. Martin groaned and pumped his hips up once, trying futilely to both free his member, and give it release. Fluttershy had to stifle an uncharacteristic chuckle; he was just like an impatient animal begging for his breakfast. She really was born for this sort of thing.

“But wait-,” she thought as she reached for his fly, unsure what to do with it once it was out. “Food? That gives me- Oh my, I couldn’t possibly-”

Martin was busy catching his breath and once again rolling his neck around, trying to remove the phantom tickling sensation when he heard her abruptly stand up and walk away. Reorganizing his thought process, he tried to remember if he’d heard a doorbell or knock, but doubted it. And then he heard the faint sound of a refrigerador opening, and wondered if she was taking a break from molesting him to have lunch.

But after only enough time to grab one or two items, the fridge was closed again and she came walking back towards him. She stopped in front again, and knelt down by his crotch, him hearing what sounded like a glass bottle being placed on the wooden floor next to them. She’d proven herself full of surprises that day, and he wasn’t about to mumble out some more stupid questions, but he was quite possibly more curious than he was afraid.

Her hands touched his fly, and he offered no intentional resistance as she under his pants and pulled them down (pulling leather off a sitting person with an erection is as hard as it sounds).

Fluttershy gave a slight gasp as soon as he felt the air on his engorged and hypersensitive penis, probably at the sight of his ring. He considered asking her to take it off, but them he also heard her go “hmm”, and pick up the bottle. A few seconds later his heart nearly failed when he felt a cascade of cold, thick liquid pouring onto his crotch.

His heightened penal awareness made the cold oil all the more painful, and he shrieked and shook in his chair when he first felt it. Her pouring lasted about a second, but of course it felt much longer. He then and he heard a quiet *glug* sound, indicating half of whatever was in the bottle was now soaking his crotch. He thankfully had no real pubic hair for it to soak, but it pooled in his head, stickied his inner thighs and dripped down his balls, teasing him and then annoying him once the sticky droplets mixed with the chair fabric beneath him.

Like jumping into a cold pool, it only took him a few seconds to adjust, and after catching his breath again, he “looked” down at where he thought she was and tried his best to look angry with his eyes and mouth obscured, demanding an explanation.

Fluttershy gave one when she cleaned off his underside in one long, sensual, and judging by what she said next, tasty lick that stalled the chill-induced softening of his cock. Martin gasped and perked up in his chair, but as always, the pure pleasure was undeniable.

“Mmmm. Maple syrup,” she intentionally exaggerated to make clear the situation to him. “You’re such a sweet boy, Martin.”

The moment she said it, Martin could taste the sweet liquid in his mouth, and seemingly on his cock. Fluttershy pushed him down by the thighs, and went to work.

Her licks could be long, short, passionate, tasting, on his underside underside, balls, and even inner thighs, but every single one was like being slapped and he’d flinch and shift in the cushioned chair, now somewhat sticky chair. The sensation of being literally cleaned by her tongue was a new kind of erotic; a middle ground between the conceptuality of being breastfed and the physicality of being ridden. Their natural body heats combined and warmed the syrup, and his member regained its density quickly while his squirms turned into twitches in the wrong direction for convincing her he wasn’t enjoying this.

After a minute, she gave a final flick across his cockhead, giving him one final shiver and completely replacing the syrup with a thin layer of saliva. Then she looked up to him again, and licked her lips in an also exaggerated fashion, then stood up.

“See Martin,” she patted him on the head like a child. “We’re having so much fun.”

Martin responded by proving “ugh” sounds the same with or without a gag, but to his surprise the room was silent after he did.

Time crawled on by as his void was once again pure darkness broken only by the feeling of her spit drying out. He was hard, which meant the truly unfun part should be starting right about now, but judging by her breaths, she was just standing there. At first, he imagined proud grin on her face, but then he noticed her breathing was actually getting faster. His logic told him not to break the equilibrium, and that on the off chance anything was wrong it was good for him, but…

“Huhherhy?”

“Oh, sorry!” she jumped in surprise. “I’m just really knew at this.”

He “looked” (blindfolds are so confusing) up at her... confused. She took hold of the back of the chair to steady herself, then put one foot beside his leg on the chair, as if she was going to step up.

But then she stood there taking quick shallow breaths, like she was incredibly nervous.

“Performance anxiety,” Martin thought sardonically, but then the question of her virginity came up. Even his aloof ears had heard plenty of rumors about what the magical six did with each other, but what there any chance that they were just that, rumors? He felt a pang of sympathy as he remembered what forcefully losing his virginity (which was biologically meaningless to him) had felt like in the boiler room, and then a pang of anger when he realized just how destructive the Dazzlings were. Fairly soon, kind, beautiful, timid Fluttershy would be dead, her corpse twisted into a parody of its former self mirroring Adagio, Aria, and Sonata.

Finally, with a huff, “Fluttershy” stood up on the chair and immediately knelt down on her knees so his legs were trapped between hers. And then she spent a few more seconds looking down at his cock, before carefully reaching down and positioning it.

“Huherhy, hihm horry,” Martin said, unsure whether he would feel a hymen when he came in.

Fluttershy didn’t seem to understand him, and closed her eyes to drop all the way down, burying him hilt deep in her warm, sopping, vice tight pussy.

They both groaned at the sudden sensation, like heaven appearing between their legs in a millisecond. Martin also inadvertently got a face full of her t-shirt clad breasts, but they weren’t big enough for suffocation, yet.

It look Martin a second to notice he hadn’t broken through anything, but the feeling of being so deep in Fluttershy watered his eyes anyway.

Indeed, a dildo had long since taken Fluttershy’s maidenhood, and Big Mac her virginity, but it had been quite some time since she’d had warm meat inside her, and when she looked down at her boyfriend's blindfolded and gagged face, she felt a rush of power and lust, realizing she could do whatever she wanted with him.

With another huff, she used her knees to push up, moving up on his cock a few inches, and then dropped, burying him again. She gave another groan, feeling him slide into her again, even brushing against her clit. Martin was silent, but her snatch was so tight, it felt like it was competing against his cock ring, but so moist, it was utterly painless.

After pausing to take in what she’d just felt, Fluttershy went up and down again. And again. And again and soon she was bouncing up and down on him. Her moans became a hyperventilation, and her eyes rolled back in her head. Her breasts jiggled in his face, occasionally slapping him when she came down a certain way. Everytime she pushed up, she ached to drop back down, as her crotch just felt so empty without him inside. It had the comfortable size of her toys and the organic feeling of her other male lovers. He was long enough as to touch every corner of her, and when she really went down hard, he brushed against her cervix. She imagined to have him cum inside of her would feel incredible, but that would have to wait for now.

With the ring, she was building faster than he was. She looked down at him again, and saw that he was blushing with embarrassment.

“I *wheeze* love you Martin,” she assured him, then arched her back in a scream. She’d coated his crotch with syrup, and now she was doing it with honey. Although her was stuck all the way inside her, she had so much “kindness” to give it gushed out between her walls and his cock and poured all over his balls. In an even greater surprise, he felt his cock being tilted forwards until it hurt, and it took him a second to realize she was actually falling off the chair.

She made no attempt to catch herself, and leaned backwards pulling his penis to the brink of tearing, until it slid out of her and she fell on the floor with a loud thud.

Martin’s blindfold probably tasted salty by now, and it was getting harder to breath through his nose. He heard Fluttershy panting on the floor, meaning he hadn’t physically killed her, but he knew that after the first orgasm there was no stopping it. They’d keep going for an hour or so until she was so exhausted that she fell down and the ring stopped working on her- wait. Fuck. He remembered his orders, and realized he needed to capture her somehow to benefit his mistresses.

“Huhherhy?” he asked, wishing his arms were free so he could blow his nose.

“That was incredible, Martin.” she said in a half daze.

“Hih heehhy huth,” Martin agreed, trying not to make any judgements about her perceived stamina. He’d done this before, and knew how to string them along. “Here’th homhing hin-” he stopped, remembering how he’d gotten there. He had no ring in his pocket to tell her to put on as a token in her confused state.

“Umm, there’s something where Martin?” she asked, still lying in a pool of her own juices.

“Huh, Huhherhy? Herth humhing hi heed hu ha hu…” once the ring was on Rainbow Dash, she easily convinced Spitfire to let her call up and get another once, but she’d literally kidnapped him, and even in her confused state it be difficult to convince her to call the very people she’d kidnapped him from.

“Han hu hake hith hag hout?” he was getting tired of speaking this way.

“Aww,” she cooed, finally starting to get up. “But you’re so cute all trussed up like that. Tell you what? How about I go make us some tea while we get ready for round two?”

Martin’s gut response was one of anger, and he felt his orders start lose their importance again. But then he realized that he was also little thirsty, and his mistresses could probably wait.

Celestia, Luna, Rainbow Dash, Rarity and Spitfire all only ate normal foods for the taste now, because they fed primarily off lust and heartache, and it showed. Okay, not really, at least in the sense that seeing it one would associate the object with the concept, but they were becoming more energetic and youthful, among other things.

The original Dazzlings claimed they never really thought about it, but Celestia and Luna had hypothesized that with all the extra energy their bodies were getting, certain functions like milk production were kicking into overdrive, and after Martin gave all their ten collective restaurants five star reviews, Sonata posited that the same energy was being converted into edible form in their breasts, which was why Martin could sustain himself on it alone. Well, her actual words were “Hey, maybe some or our magic glowiness is working on Cutie Pie too”, but hey, substance over style.

Fortunately for their discretion, almost all women in Canterlot were reasonably big in the chest, and, and siren’s seemed to stop growing after a few days, so provided one wasn’t drinking from them or groping them, any noticed difference could be chalked up to imagination.

Aria definitely noticed though. Her shirt and jacket lay on the floor along with Celestia's, and the two gorgeous young women held each other’s sides as they ground their chests together and kissed.

The height difference between the two was negligible, and both could easily reach the other’s throat with their tongue. The sounds of their milk sloshing and squishing inside them sounded much louder than it really was, and every time one of their flesh-on-flesh scrapes rubbed the other’s nipple, they could feel it trying to get out.

The bedroom was dark and warm, and orgasm was readily in reach if Celestia wanted to shove Aria on to the bed or if Aria slipped her hands into the principal’s pants, but strangely there were no moans or gasps, and their tongues swirled and danced, but with all the passion of an autopsy. Eventually, Celestia pushed Aria back.

“I’m sorry Aria,” she apologized honestly, not wanting to anger the woman who’d showed her what real power and pleasure were. “But you’re just not Martin.”

In any other situation, Aria would’ve made Celestia eat her out all night long for such an insult, but for once she was sympathetic.

“I know, I know,” she removed her arms and stepped away. Then a look of anger came to her face. “Why the hell do we leave him alone with Adagio? She can’t even control her own emotions, much less Cutie Pie”

Celestia mentally acknowledged her mistake in referring to Martin incorrectly, but was worried as well. Martin Saylin, the person most critical to RAPE, and the person she knew full well she wouldn’t last two days without, had been missing all day. Never one to panic though, she’d calmly asked Rainbow Dash and Adagio what had happened over the phone, and later called up Sunset Shimmer to see if she’d seen him and/or she talked awkwardly and quickly like she had something to hide.

“Now, now, it’s only been a few hours, and we haven’t heard from Rainbow Dash to see if her lead is false. And even if he is with someone-”

“-He can’t say anything unless they’re female, yeah, I know how our own spell works, stupid,” Aria shot back, not wanting to be comforted. “But what if he’s with a boy and a girl? Or what if against all odds and transfixation magic he lost the necklace? Or what if he- he-”

Celestia was about to roll her eyes at Aria’s panicked ramblings, wondering why she thought these girls were best fit to rule the world, when the sound of a cell phone alert at full volume pierced the room. Both their hearts skipped a beat, and the turned their heads to Celestia’s discarded jacket.

They rushed over, and since Aria didn’t have a phone, she could only watch, finger’s crossed, as Celestia fumbled with the garment’s pocket for a second.

When she pulled the phone out, the first thing both of them saw was that it was from Rainbow Dash, just as they expected. Reading further, their spirits soared...

Found him. Rly was wit flutter shy at cabn. Gav hr ring. Check cute pie

...and seeing the picture, their panties moistened.

Somewhere around round three, Fluttershy remembered her brother’s halloween costume from two years ago, and how she’d thought it would look sexy on anyone else. The logistical issue of getting it on him while he was tied up was soon solved by Rainbow Dash’s arrival.

In the photo, Fluttershy stood, once again clothed, smiling over Martin with her hand on his head. Martin was in turn, on knees, his hands up to his chest like a, well…

The tip of his nose was black, and dark triangles had been painted on his cheekbones in imitation of whiskers. Black and orange cat ears sat atop his head, and similarly colored furry, pawed, thigh and shoulder high leggings and gloves covered his arms and legs. His chest was bare save the necklace, but a black and orange striped and tailed furry thong theoretically kept his modesty. A black cat collar was around his neck, the attached leash held by Fluttershy.

With an ear to ear grin, Celestia moved her thumb to reply, but the phone *ping*ed again, and there was another text.

P.S. Who thinks we should make Fluttershy his handler?