Blocky the Slavepone 1, by BlockyAnon


                                            [Copied from https://pastebin.com/ruFsTieU]


                                            >You threw open the door to your small house, feeling relief at its familiar layout.

                                            >Work had exhausted you, and as you kicked your shoes off to the side, you could think of nothing more than sitting down and taking a long break.

                                            >Within a minute, you were back in your living room, ass planted in your recliner and legs kicked up on a footrest.

                                            >As your arms rested on the sides of the chair, you leaned back and waited for that all-too familiar sound.

                                            >*clinkrattleclink*!

                                            >Right on cue, as always.

                                            >You looked through the hallway to your left to find the ever-welcome sight.

                                            >Your little pony nervously making her way to master.

                                            >The outfit she wore may not have been practical, but it, along with the small, useless chain attached to her collar, served mainly to remind her of her place.

                                            >The rattling chain and the clacking of her hooves were the only sounds as she came into the room with you.

                                            >Once she reached the chair, she sat down, her expression the same as it was each day: An uncertain, bashful frown.

                                            >It was a month before she had started making eye contact with you at this point.

                                            >The two of you exchanged looks before you broke the silence by patting your lap.

                                            >She wasted no time climbing up onto the chair before assuming her usual position: Back against your legs, belly facing upwards, hooves placed next to each other.

                                            >This was always the best part.

                                            >You brought your right hand around and placed it on her soft tummy.

                                            >Your fingers flexed, and the scratchies began once more.

                                            >She snickered a little and lightly kicked her hooves.

                                            >She always did have a ticklish tummy.

                                            >You learned that the hard way the first time around.

                                            >Sometimes you swear the bruise in your shoulder from her hind hoof is still there.

                                            >Granted, you'd gotten her at first to do some housekeeping while you worked, but your lust for pony belly eventually won out, and soon you were getting her accustomed to belly rubs each day.

                                            >Despite feeling the slowly arising erection, you'd never taken this beyond the belly rubs.

                                            >It was better to make this a calmer, more intimate experience.

                                            >She certainly didn't complain.

                                            >Once she got over the ticklishness, her eyes would close and she'd relax as your hands danced about her belly.

                                            >Even as you traced circles around her belly button, she'd only respond with a few twitches of her hooves.

                                            >Her soft coat would, in turn, feel relaxing against your palm and fingertips.

                                            >Her belly itself was only slightly cushy.

                                            >She wasn't overtly thin, but she wasn't chubby, either.

                                            >Her belly was a perfect balance of healthy size with just a little extra cushion.

                                            >She was fed well and fed right.

                                            >*grrrrll!*

                                            >...speaking of feeding her.

                                            >Despite it happening nearly every time, your little pony to this day was still embarrassed by her loud, hungry belly.

                                            >Her eyes averted yours as a light red color spread across her cheeks, the pony just a little flustered at the sheer volume her stomach had growled.

                                            >A little smirk graced your lips.

                                            "Hungry?"

                                            >"U-uh-huh."

                                            >You gave her belly a couple pats, eliciting a few more gurgles before you scooped her up in your arms and took her to the kitchen.

                                            >The unofficial deal always was that she would cook breakfast; you would cook dinner.

                                            >While she WAS your slave, a part of you never felt right making her cook while she was probably starved.

                                            >If she was this hungry every night, it gave you the impression she was always too caught up in her daily duties to eat anything during the day.

                                            >Tonight was a bit lazy: You shared a box of macaroni and cheese, her share sprinkled with a bit of hay.

                                            >Her cooking was so much better.

                                            >After your meals were finished, she took the dishes and washed them as you went about your business.

                                            >Her personality seemed to come out more as she worked, and each night you could hear her humming happily as she worked, her rear and tail swishing back and forth as she got caught up in the beat.

                                            >It was both a cute and sexy sight.

                                            >As the night waned on and she finished her work, it was time to head to bed so you could get up for work tomorrow morning.

                                            "Bedtime, Blocky."

                                            >"Yes, Master."

                                            >Stripping down to your undershirt and underwear, you climbed into bed, making sure your alarm clock was set to its usual time.

                                            >You lied down and got comfortable, Blocky watching patiently as you did.

                                            >A quick couple pats on the bed gave her the greenlight to hop in herself.

                                            >As she got under the covers and settled in, her hooves wrapped around your torso and she pulled herself closer to you.

                                            >The cool, plate bikini pressing against your body always helped lull you into sleep, and the skirt of her outfit would always wrap around your feet, giving them some additional warmth.

                                            >To put it simply, it was cozy.

                                            >It was times like these that you reflected on this rather unexpected situation.

                                            >When you'd first purchased her, she was scared of serving a stranger, and wasn't sure what to expect out of you.

                                            >You, on the other hand, had planned on just giving her a basic living: Three meals a day as long as she earned it.

                                            >Yet now, despite you owning her like property, and despite her needing to obey your every command, there was this unspoken mutual respect between the two of you.

                                            >She trusted you not to harshly punish her for any mistakes, and you in turn found that she could be more than just a slave.

                                            >Blocky's chin rested on your shoulder as she snuggled into you.

                                            >"Good night, Master."

                                            >You scratched her ear and stroked her mane.

                                            "Good night, Blocky."