Untitled Sunburst & Twilight Velvet


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                                            By Lurkernon


                                            >>27648809


                                            > The scuffling of hooves drags you up from the thin sack of straw you'd been sleeping on.

                                            > It's not just the noise of hoofsteps but unsteady, irregular ones.

                                            > A new arrival?

                                            > Before you can come to the door of your cell, it flies open instead.

                                            > Through comes the stallion you hate the most in the world.

                                            > "Sunny!"

                                            "...hello, Written Script."

                                            > "Oh, Sunny! I am so dearly sorry to have interrupted your nap-"

                                            > No, he isn't.

                                            > He's always had a tendency towards the flamboyant, and his tone is littered with clues.

                                            > "-but you won't believe what arrived today!"

                                            > Best to play his game.

                                            > You move to peer around him, but the tall stallion quickly blocks the doorway.

                                            > "Nonononono. Guess, Sunny! Guess!"

                                            "...a new slave."

                                            > Instantly the grey stallion's face darkens, his game ruined.

                                            > "...aww, how'd you know?"

                                            > Because it's the only thing he ever gets excited about.

                                            > Some new poor foal to keep pinned under his iron hoof.

                                            "Guess I was just lucky?"

                                            > "Too damn lucky. Anyway-"

                                            > A tug on the leash held in his magic grip - a leash you hadn't noticed until now - and a mare stumbles through the door after him.

                                            > Not a foal, though - in fact, a reasonably older mare.

                                            > Pretty, with a cloud-grey coat only a few shades lighter that Written Sript himself and a white and purple mane.

                                            > Her eyes dart about, pupils shrunken, and you get the feeling she'd be questioning a great deal if not for the bridle holding her jaws firmly shut.

                                            "She's... nice."

                                            > "She's yours, Sunny!"

                                            > Breath catches in your throat as your heart freezes.

                                            "I..."

                                            > "No arguing! Masters' orders!"

                                            > Written Script throws a hoof over your shoulders; you grunt at the sudden weight.

                                            > "Congratulations, Sunny! You got yourself a nice little mare now - I told you Master wouldn't wait too long with his little project!"

                                            "Yes. I'm... thrilled."

                                            > "Come on, kiddo! Don't you have anything to say? Getting one put under you - this is big!"

                                            > Swallowing the lump in your throat - but failing to swallow away the awful taste suddenly in your mouth - you put on an uneasy smile.

                                            "Yeah, I... Thanks, Script. I - I really, really appreciate her. I'm... if, uh... if you could leave us be, I'd like to meet her."

                                            > When he makes no move, you add:

                                            "Privately."

                                            > Written Script's eyes widen, and he nods furiously - a wide grin suddenly sprouting on his face.

                                            > "Ooooh. Getting to work on the Master's project already? Always were dutiful, Sunny!"

                                            > Trotting back out the door, he offers one last wink before it slams shut:

                                            > "Enjoy her! The master'll be coming around tomorrow, want an update on his project!"

                                            > Then he is gone, the door's bolt closing with a thunk from the far side.

                                            > It.

                                            > He couldn't even bring himself to refer to the poor mare as 'her'.

                                            > Leaning over, you lay your forehead against the cool concrete of your quarters' wall and consider banging it until your horn came off or brain turned to mush, whichever came first.

                                            "Fuck you, Script..."

                                            > The words are barely audible, sputtered under your breath.

                                            > "Mrrrr?"

                                            > Gently, something soft touches your neck.

                                            > Right, the mare.

                                            > You'd almost forgotten about her.

                                            > Lifting your head, you find her regarding you with uncertain but pitying eyes.

                                            "...hey, sorry."

                                            > A hoof rises to rub at your nose and tug at your scraggly beard.

                                            "I, uh... he gets on my nerves."

                                            > "Mmmm."

                                            "Oh, right! Bridle - let me get that off of you."

                                            > A flick of your horn and the straps around her jaw are released.

                                            > "You have your magic?!"

                                            > The mare's voice is soft, etched with pain but somehow still managing to convey an underlying warmth.

                                            "Yes. Master... doesn't like our talents wasted. He has other ways of stopping problems."

                                            > "So then I'll-"

                                            > She goes slightly crosseyed as she tries to look up at her own horn.

                                            "It'll come back in time, yes. As the drugs get out of your system. I'd advise against pushing it."

                                            > "Oh."

                                            "So... um... I guess I should say welcome."

                                            > You look around the barren quarters:

                                            > Cinderblock barely hidden by a few shelves of books and a single faded painting, light being provided by a pair of bulbs overhead (no shield - that had been missing when you'd gotten it).

                                            "I don't know if Written Script explained it to you, but you're going to be working for me most of the time here. Staying here, too."

                                            > "In... here?"

                                            "Yes."

                                            > You crack a small grin, shaking your head as you turn to retreat back from the first room.

                                            > Following behind you, the mare's leash drags along the floor.

                                            "They call this an 'apartment cell'. Three rooms - four, really; I put up a curtain around the toilet area - to ourselves. Windows in three of them, can be opened but they're barred. Light switches, but our power goes off at 10 PM same as everypony else's cells. Running water, some personal possessions..."

                                            > The bitter smile returns to your face.

                                            "Another 'reward for superior dedication to my tasks'."

                                            > "Bedrooms?"

                                            "Just the one. Seperate beds, though - bunks. I'll take top."

                                            > The utter relief reflected on her face makes your stomach flip.

                                            > Nauseated, you stagger slightly.

                                            > "Are you alright?"

                                            "Yes, I - I'm sorry."

                                            > Settling on your haunches, you raise one hoof to rub at your forehead.

                                            "Sometimes this... all still gets to me."

                                            > "You've been a - here a long time then?"

                                            "I've been a slave a while, yes. Four years now."

                                            > "Two months, I think. We were in a crate on a ship for a long time, it was kind of hard to tell."

                                            > Two months.

                                            > They'd sent a freshly-caught mare into this?

                                            > Mentally cursing Written Script and Master alike, you force yourself back up onto all fours.

                                            "Well - Master doesn't hurt us for now reason, but don't go angering him. It - it's bad."

                                            > "I know. Written Script, was that his name? He showed me the - the other cells."

                                            > The urge to vomit returns, and suddenly the mare is at your side again.

                                            > "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

                                            "No, it's okay. Script... I fucking hate him."

                                            > Coloring, you add a moment later:

                                            "Pardon my language. He was an 'unappreciated' playwright in Equestria, so now he makes sure everypony knows just how fucking important he is and how we should all kiss the ground he walks on."

                                            > Lowering your head, you growl out:

                                            "And of course he has all of us in a vice, since he's the one who's got Master's ear. Keeps us in line, and Master doesn't care what he does to us."

                                            > "No, I... I understand. What, um - what do you do here?"

                                            > The change of topic is awkward, but you feel like hugging her for managing it nonetheless.

                                            > Turning aside into one of the open doorways, you point within to a furious mess of scrolls, gems, and assorted arcanic instruments mixed haphazardly with plastic-capped vials and a sleeping computer workstation.

                                            "Magic research."

                                            > The surprise is plain to see on her face.

                                            > "Research? I'm - I'm sorry, I didn't know they had-"

                                            > She cuts off again, and you shake your head.

                                            "It's okay. You can say it - didn't know they had slaves doing research. Most don't, but Master's a little... obsessed with unicorn magic. Wants to ensure he always has the best unicorns ever."

                                            > "Oh, well - that does explain some things."

                                            "Some of what I do is just basic bookkeeping, basic health measures for the others here. But he also - he - what?"

                                            > Smiling softly, Velvet sticks her neck in to look around the room.

                                            > "I had heard Written Script say that he'd paid very richly for me, so he hoped the doctors hadn't lied... I don't know what he meant by that, though."

                                            > You're quite glad that she's not facing you, and so isn't able to see the near-retch that runs through you.

                                            "I... yeah."

                                            > Interested in her.

                                            > There's no way you can tell the truth.

                                            > Celestia above, if she understood why she'd been given to you...

                                            > "I mean, he must want to see if something runs in my blood."

                                            "Huh?"

                                            > "I'm..."

                                            > She turns around to face you, looking almost ashamed.

                                            > "I'm sorry - my name is Twilight Velvet. My children - they're Twilight Sparkle and Shining Armor."

                                            > Your eyes widen and Twilight Velvet flushes, ducking her head and mumbling:

                                            > "I don't like to brag about them, but with my children... yes, I suppose I can see how he would be interested in me."

                                            "Sunburst."

                                            > Breathlessly, almost panted, the name comes out.

                                            > It's all you can manage to change the topic.

                                            "My name's Sunburst. I was - Junior Wizard in the Crystal Empire. Your son-"

                                            > "Oh, you knew him!"

                                            "No, no - saw. Sometimes. At a distance."

                                            > Unable to keep her gaze, you add more softly:

                                            "He was a good pony. Is a good pony."

                                            > Gently, Velvet reaches out to touch your cheek.

                                            > "Thank you, dear. You're a good pony too, trying so hard like this."

                                            > No.

                                            > Anything but that.

                                            > Please, please don't let her call you that.

                                            > Your stomach twists again as her hoof brushes your cheek.

                                            > "I can't imagine it's been easy holding up all this time, but you're clearly a good heart nonetheless and-"

                                            "Miss Sparkle, please. Did - did Written Script tell you anything about what your job is going to be?"

                                            > "To 'work with you', that was all. I supposed it would be simple things, but this - I suppose you'll want to be studying me?"

                                            > Studying her.

                                            > Celestia, no.

                                            "I..."

                                            > "Is, something wrong?"

                                            "Miss Sparkle-"

                                            > The words taste like bile and acid.

                                            "I - I'm not supposed to study your blood. Not... not like with a microscope."

                                            > "Well, I admit I'm no researcher, but I was a writer and I suppose I could be of help as best I can anyhow, and-"

                                            "I'm supposed to breed you."

                                            > The uncomprehending look on Twilight Velvet's face slowly dissolving into a mask of horror is more than you can bear.

                                            > You're the first to collapse.

                                            > Falling to your belly and retching out onto the floor what your stomach could no longer take.

                                            > "B-Breed me? You - you mean-"

                                            > She falters, desperately waiting for you to reveal that no, it wasn't what she thought.

                                            > When that doesn't come, Velvet shakes her head feverishly.

                                            > "No, you - you can't. I won't. I-"

                                            "Not... not a choice. Script - he showed you what happens to ponies before they go into the punishment cells."

                                            > Spitting out the last dregs of the vomit, you lay on the cool floor and stare dully into the concrete wall rising in front of you.

                                            "You refuse, you'll go to be punished and then into the cells. Not me - I'll be fine. It'll all fall on you, since he paid so much for you."

                                            > When she doesn't respond, you add:

                                            "Master... he's been breeding unicorns here for a while."

                                            > "But - but Written Script - he couldn't -"

                                            "Script?"

                                            > You bark a laugh, harsh and angry.

                                            "He's got some fancy prench model from Canterlot in his cell, due in about two months. It'll be her... third, I think."

                                            > Now it is Velvet's turn to stumble, falling to her haunches and leaning into the doorframe as the full weight of her situation hits her.

                                            > "I - I can't. I'll work, but you can't make me do that!"

                                            "You're right; I won't. I will not force you. But if you don't, I'm not going to lie about what will happen to you either. One way or another, the master gets what he wants."

                                            > That gets her attention, and you shrug lightly.

                                            "He'll take you down to be punished, throw you in a solitary cell for a week, then strap you to a rack and bring me in to do it that way."

                                            > "I'm married..."

                                            > The words are whispered as a final, desperate defense against the weight of truth.

                                            > "He can't make me do that, I'm married. He-"

                                            > She's cut off as you pull her head back, your magic seizing on the bridle still locked around her head.

                                            > Using it to pull her head back and expose the thick collar locked around her neck, you give that a good tug until you know she can feel it.

                                            "You feel this? You know what this means? You're nothing. Nothing but what you can do for Master. Married, single - you think it matters to him? You give him what he wants, or you're punished. That's it. That's how we live now."

                                            > "But, you-"

                                            "Yes."

                                            > Tilting your own head back to expose the same collar on your throat, you nod.

                                            "I'm fucking nothing too. Just some colt who's managed to sign a deal with Disharmony incarnate."

                                            > "How? How can you even work for-"

                                            "For someone like him? You know, I really don't know. I guess I'm just too scared to stand up for myself and play along like a good little..."

                                            > The words trail off as your vision cleared and senses came back:

                                            > You'd never let go of her head or collar, and had been steadily dragging Twilight Velvet closer despite her hooves being firmly planted in the concrete flooring.

                                            > Dropping your magic, you let your head fall to the ground and being to quietly sob, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks.

                                            > Velvet soon joins you, sniffling softly as her own tears come.

                                            > Nothing is said, nor could anything more be said.

                                            > Not until both your tears are spent, the emotions run out entirely.

                                            > Forcing yourself to your hooves again, you stagger to the sink and pour out two cups of water.

                                            > She'll probably need it, after all those tears.

                                            > You do.

                                            > Setting the cup at her side and backing away, you fall to your haunches and stare at your forehooves.

                                            "I don't..."

                                            > Voice cracking, you suck another aching breath and try again.

                                            "Don't want to see you taken. Punished. Hurts more than you can imagine, trust me. Tried - tried to make a battle-spell that would hit Master later, after he left. Found out it hit, though. He did."

                                            > "I can't."

                                            > Slumping against a wall, Twilight Velvet stares dully out one of the barred windows.

                                            > "By Celestia, Luna - by everypony, I can't!"

                                            "You will. One way or another, you will. If you try to... stop the foal coming, he'll have you shackled in place until it comes. I've seen it happen."

                                            > "Coincidence... I thought it was a coincidence they waited to bring me out until I was in estrus..."

                                            > Drinking the water manages to wipe away the taste of vomit in your mouth.

                                            > Nothing can wipe away the bitterness of what you're saying, though.

                                            "You called me a good pony, but that's not what I am. I'm... an awful pony. A terrible pony. I exist in luxury because I help someone who has ponies violated for his benefit."

                                            > Setting the cup down, you trot to her side and put a hoof on Velvet's withers.

                                            "I deserve to be hated. But for your own sake, don't think of me."

                                            > "Think of...?"

                                            > Her voice is soft, wavering.

                                            > She's already half gone, sunk into the depths of despair.

                                            "Yes. Don't think of me. Imagine... I'm your husband. Pretend as hard as you can. Forget what's really happening."

                                            > "Prete-"

                                            > She is cut off as you kiss her - first on the cheek, then on the lips.

                                            > In a moment she is stiff in your hooves, legs pressing back against your barrel.

                                            > But only for that moment, before she softens again.

                                            > A fresh tear runs down her already streaked cheeks, but Velvet's lips part and tongue snakes out against yours.

                                            > Inhaling deeply, you take in her scent.

                                            > Layered heavily by those of fear and old sweat, but beneath all that still the scent of a mare in her heat.

                                            > Something stirs between your haunches as Velvet breaks the first kiss, her eyes still shut.

                                            > Unspeakingly you reach out with your magic lift her onto all fours, guiding her up the steps to your second-level bed.

                                            > Not just because it's the better mattress, but because you couldn't ask Velvet to sleep on the same bed you'd raped her in.

                                            > Your stomach does a little flip at that thought - that yes, it was rape even if you had as little choice as she in the matter.

                                            > Forcing it aside, you guide her down onto the mattress.

                                            > Twilight Velvet sinks onto it easily, legs folding beneath her as the old fear returns.

                                            > Before they can take over again you strip the rest of the bridle from her head and press your lips to hers once more, this time taking the lead with your own tongue.

                                            > Simultaneously you let your hooves run down her neck and mane, coasting over her body's contours.

                                            > Desperately you focus on the soft curves of her shoulders and barrel, trying to force out the sound of her nervous, shallow breathing.

                                            > Running a line of kisses down her neck, you manage to draw a little gasp from her lips.

                                            > A tiny part of you is thankful that Velvet had kept herself in good shape:

                                            > It isn't too hard, with a little imagination, to transform this into a less horrific scene.

                                            > You desperately hope she is having the same luck.

                                            > While her hooves are on your withers as well, they're trembling sharply; little gasps are coming from her throat, but it's impossible to know whether they are of imagined pleasure or real horror.

                                            > The tears continuing to run from her eyes are not a good sign.

                                            > But neither does she order you to stop, even when your hooves get rather friskier than they had any right to be.

                                            > Thus it's something of a surprise for you when Velvet suddenly rolls to present her belly, head falling back to expose her neck and tail dropping to the bed to expose...

                                            > Everything else.

                                            > Immediately you reach out with your magic, rather more gently returning her to resting on her belly.

                                            > She did have to go through this, but she did not have to look the one who was doing it to her in the eye the entire time.

                                            > "No."

                                            > Shaking her head, Velvet looks up at you with eyes half-open and crowded with tears.

                                            > "Let me - that's how we did it best."

                                            > Oh.

                                            > Cheeks burning with shame, you turn away and let her roll onto her back again.

                                            > The dedication that had been filling you - to show her the tiniest mercy - loses its heart and flees.

                                            > "Sunburst?"

                                            > Velvet's voice is low and soft.

                                            "Y-Yes?"

                                            > "You tried to save me. Keep me from being... keep it from being any worse."

                                            > No you didn't.

                                            > You just tried to make it less repulsive for yourself.

                                            > Tried to settle your conscience against the crime you were comitting.

                                            > Rapist.

                                            > Traitor.

                                            > Trash-

                                            > Something touches your chin, just behind your beard.

                                            > Velvet's hoof.

                                            > She looks up at you with pained - but not hateful - eyes.

                                            > Gaze briefly skipping down to your hindlegs where you hang half-erect, she colors but wrenches her eyes back to yours.

                                            > "Like you said... pretend."

                                            > Then she is kissing you again, hoof hooked around your neck and pulling you down against her.

                                            > Your belly meets her own, warmth on warmth, and her scent is much stronger and much more like a mare now-

                                            > What follows is not the best, by any metric.

                                            > Certainly not emotionally, and not even physically either.

                                            > Oh, she is soft - as a mare ought to be - and to your immense thankfulness she does not lay there limply while you work but takes a part as well.

                                            > Doing her best to play the mockery of a lover.

                                            > But even so, it is awkward, messy, and involves more tears than sex ever should.

                                            > When it's done, Velvet staggers off to the shower stall.

                                            > The leash on her collar clacks as it drags down the steps from your bunk; you'd never taken it off.

                                            > Nor do you follow.

                                            > She deserves some time alone.

                                            > Instead you slump on the mattress, not caring about the fluids you are laying in.

                                            > Eyes find one of the barred windows and settling lifelessly on it.

                                            > You don't even hear the water cut off or Twilight Velvet's return, but you do feel her - surprising you as she crouches at the edge of your mattress.

                                            > Not quite touching; it's clear she can't bring herself to do that again.

                                            > But still close.

                                            > Your eyes close, unable to bear the proximity.

                                            > "What - what now?"

                                            > Her voice is hoarse now, rough from unheard tears.

                                            "Wait. Master will be coming. To-"

                                            > To ensure you'd done your part.

                                            > Ensure you'd raped her.

                                            "-to check up on us. He'll probably give you a job tag then."

                                            > "Will I - do I still get to stay with you?"

                                            > 'Get to'.

                                            > 'Have to', is what she meant.

                                            "Yes. He'll assign you to serve me - light duty in these quarters, getting my supplies, that sort of thing."

                                            > You don't tell Velvet that light duty is only given to expecting mares, and she doesn't question further.

                                            > Maybe you'll think about trying out that delayed-attack spell again.

                                            > Crank up the power, pour everything you have into it.

                                            > After all, neither punishment nor being low on magic will really matter when the delay runs down.

                                            > There won't be enough left to care after the spell tears into you anyhow.