Milkmare Applejack, by Tuner9


                                            [Copied from https://pastebin.com/BSvJ1hVZ]


                                            >“Mmph…”

                                            >A mumbling rouses you from your sleep, and as you open your eyes you spot the orange mare who had done so much for your life. You adoringly run a finger across her silky soft freckled cheek, trailing it down her neck and across the crease in her fur where the collar sat during the day.

                                            >Untangling yourself from the bedsheets, you lean over and place a kiss on her forehead, just below her tangled golden mane before exiting the bedroom quietly and heading to the kitchen. Typically, she found joy in cooking you breakfast but today, you’d surprise her.

                                            >She deserved it after all.

                                            >As you walk through your homestead, you idly drag your hand across the family portraits lining the long hallway to your bedroom. If only Ma and Pa could see you now…

                                            >Actually scratch that, you’d rather they didn’t see you now.

                                            >You pivoted on a heel and headed back into your room, dragging a fresh pair of boxers and a t-shirt out of your dresser, as well as a rugged pair of denim jeans. Heading back over to the bed, you grab your mare's nylon collar, which was dangling dangerously off the edge of the table. You jingle the bronze tag hooked onto it as your fingers trace the engraved name.

                                            >Applejack.

                                            >You quietly set the collar back on the nightstand, correctly, and head over to the mirror on the back of your door.

                                            >Okay.

                                            >You’d still rather they didn’t see you, but at least you'd be presentable when they discovered you slept with someone. Who happened to be a pony.

                                            >Well, at least crazy Uncle Hank would be proud of you.

                                            >You head back into the hallway and round the corner, ending up in your kitchen.

                                            >It was a simple affair. Wooden walls, an electric coil stove and a stainless steel sink with a window above it embedded in the white countertops. A pantry rested by the entrance and next to that sat an aging white fridge with all your pictures on it.

                                            >You unclip your favorite one off of the fridge magnet and hold it in the sunlight. It was a picture of you and Applejack, a few months after you two had met.

                                            >You had found her beaten and bloody, caught in the barbed wire fence around your property that you used to keep the coyote’s out. Some asshat had broken her ribs and skull and left her for dead on your property line before driving away.

                                            >The cops said it was a hopeless case and the private investigator you hired had a few leads, but never anything substantial. It was a pretty hopeless case, you only hired him to show Applejack you cared but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to catch the bastard who hurt her just as much as she did.

                                            >The photo showed you two at the county fair, as you were trying to teach her what a selfie was. Her head was still covered in gauze and bits of her golden blonde mane stuck out from between the strips, but you thought she looked cute. You were turning to tell her that so you’d have a picture of AJ all flustered, but she was turning to you at the time as well.

                                            >Your heads bumped together and your lips met just as you snapped the photo, capturing the beginning of your descent into madness. After that moment, you had started to realize how beautiful her shining emerald eyes were, how her blonde mane flowed with the wind like golden fields of wheat and how, er… powerful her magnificent thighs were.

                                            >In the photo her eyes were as wide as saucers, crossed, as she looked at your lips and you?

                                            >You looked like a greaser from the 70’s with your hair slicked back from the wind, sunglasses obscuring your own eyes, which had an equally baffled expression, you remember, and the leather jacket you won in an apple bobbing contest earlier thrown over your shoulder.

                                            >It short, it was the single most stupid, yet beautiful photo you had ever taken in your life.

                                            >You clip the photo back on the fridge and open the door, bending down to the bottom shelf and grabbing your eggs, the cheddar cheese, a scallion and a handful of ripe cherry tomatoes. You grab a piece of sliced bread out of your breadbox as well, tossing it into your toaster and pulling down on the tab.

                                            >You throw a pan on the stovetop and turn the heat to high as you place the scallion and tomatoes on the cutting board, dicing them into fine chunks before you pull a small bowl and the cheese grater out of the cluttered cupboard beneath you. A smile comes to your face as you glance up, looking at the now empty cupboards above you, a remnant of when the house happened to be “earth-pony proof”.

                                            >You crack three eggs into the bowl and whisk them together as the pan heats. Snagging the block of cheddar cheese, you place the grater on the cutting board and quickly grind the brick against it for a few seconds, yielding a few generous handfuls of the stuff.

                                            >You pick the cutting board up and scrape the ingredients into the egg bowl with a knife, before turning around and pouring the mixture into the pan, watching it sizzle. You rotate around once more, bending over to grab a plastic cup with a specially designed hoof-grip for ponies, and headed back to the fridge.

                                            >You grab the jug of orange juice and fill the glass to the brim, taking a quick sip to ensure it didn’t spill. Applejack was, surprise, a connoisseur of all things apple, but you weren’t about to break the family tradition of OJ or milk in the morning.

                                            >It had become somewhat of a joke between you two, with her remarking about your horrific disregard for her life, forcing her to drink juices other than that of the apple variety. Truly, the day she started joking with you about her past abuse was the day when she started opening up your heart.

                                            >You’d never met a woman as strong as her before.

                                            >The toaster pops and you snag the bread out and head into the dining room, removing a tray from the stack you kept by the window. Setting it on the table, you place the cup atop it before rushing back to the kitchen. You move to the stove and pull a spatula out of one of the drawers, sliding it under the thick omelette and flipping it over.

                                            >It’s colors turn to a delicious deep yellow with red and green accents from your additions, and the edges form a golden-brown. You turn the dial on the stove to off as you fish a plate out of a drawer, flopping the omelette onto it. Plate in one hand, you take the knife from earlier and open the fridge once more, this time grabbing the jar of apple jelly.

                                            >Have to make AJ some concessions after all.

                                            >You go back to the dining room and set the plate on the tray by the juice before twisting the cap off the jar and lathering her still warm toast with the amber jam.

                                            >You recap the jelly and leave it and the knife on the table as you set off down the hallway to your bedroom. You back into the door and see Applejack just now awakening, stretching her forehooves above her head and quivering momentarily, before folding back on herself and dragging the covers to her neck once more. She reaches a hoof out to your side of the bed, batting around in the air a bit, searching for your body.

                                            >Unable to find you, she cracks a sleepy eye open and sits upright, letting out a huge yawn, squeaking a bit as she does so.

                                            >Her yawn’s contagiousness infects you, and you find yourself yawning as well, your own grunt grabbing her attention.

                                            >She rubs the sleep from her eyes with a hoof as she turns to look at you, offering you a small grin.

                                            >“Oh, hey there maste… sugarcube. Thought I’d finally done scared you off after last night. Ah guess ah’ll have ta’ keep tryin’ then, huh?”

                                            >You offer her a small smile, glad that she remembered not to call you master. Even after two years, the conditioning was still burned into her mind like a brand. She may have gotten over it already if you had pressed more in the past, but it wasn’t on your top list of priorities. You simply asked her to call you by your name whenever she slipped, but never demanded it.

                                            “You know Applejack, if I leave it doesn’t mean you get the farm.”

                                            >“Well, that just ain’t right. It should be mine by virtue of strength alone!”

                                            >She flexes her forearm like a human, trying to look tough and failing as her mane falls over her eyes, blinding her. You cock an eyebrow as she parts it with her hoof, smiling at you sheepishly.

                                            >Her nose twitches and her eyes go wide as she notices the tray of food you're carrying.

                                            >“M-master, you shouldn’t have done this! Ah’d have made you breakfast!”

                                            >She cringes at her mistake as you walk over to your side of the bed and sit down, sliding the tray over to her and offering the cup.

                                            “It’s just Anon, Applejack. I think we’ve passed the point of any sort of formality haven’t we?”

                                            >She blushes as she idly twirls a strand of hair with her hoof, before it falls back over her eyes once more. She huffs in frustration.

                                            >“Ah still don’t see why ya’ll like mah hair straight. Jus’ gets in mah eyes all the dang time.”

                                            >She flips her hair back again, and her eyes dart from the food in front of her and your eyes, torn between seeking your approval to eat and the knowledge that you told her she didn’t have to ask you for permission to do basic things.

                                            >You nod your head and gesture to the food. No one said it was going to be easy or quick, rehabilitating a pony.

                                            “You know how I feel AJ. Do whatever you want. As long as you’re on my property, you don’t have to act like my slave, except for wearing your collar outside. We don’t need the uber-conservatives next door getting uppity again now do we?”

                                            >She giggles with a melodic hum as she gratefully leans down and bites a piece out of her omelette, chewing slowly as the flavors dance around her tongue.

                                            >And Mom thought cooking classes were a waste of time.

                                            >“…ya know ya didn’t have ta do this fer me mas-Anon…”

                                            >You smile as you run your fingers through her mane, grabbing a red scrunchie off her nightstand while you did so. You gather her golden strands together and tie it off a few inches before the end of her mane, just how she enjoyed it.

                                            “Maybe not. But I wanted to.”

                                            >You can see her freckled cheeks blush a bit as she continues to eat her breakfast, taking occasional sips from her glass of orange juice. Her muzzle scrunches up, conflicting emotions seemingly troubling her.

                                            >“Ah still don’t get it Anon. Ah know ya tell me why time an’ time again but I still don’t get it… why d’ya treat me so well? As a slave, ah’m beneath ya…”

                                            >You place your hand under her muzzle and gently rotate her head to face you.

                                            “Because you aren't a slave. Not while you’re in this house at least.”

                                            >You lean down and place a kiss on her lips, tasting a hint of orange juice upon them. Her eyes dart back to her food as she blushes furiously, trying her hardest not to smile.

                                            >It wasn’t working.

                                            “C’mon Applejack, you know I think you’re beautiful when you smile.”

                                            >She buries her face behind her hooves and knickers softly, embarrassed by the honesty in your voice. You lovingly scratch behind her ear, coaxing her to lean into your touch as she pulls her hooves away.

                                            “Listen, I’m gonna head out to get started on work, I want you to finish breakfast and do whatever you think needs doing. And don’t go around kicking my trees again!”

                                            >She giggles sheepishly at the memory, trying to buck one of your apple trees and ending up leaving two hoof-shaped indents in it and a fractured leg bone.

                                            >“Ah think ah learned mah lesson the first time. Jus’ proves that mah apple trees are better though.”

                                            “Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that.”

                                            >You move to leave, but find yourself lingering on the bed, still stroking her ear and watching as she devours her breakfast, spilling toast crumbs all over the covers. Ehhh, you’d wash those later. They needed it anyway after last night.

                                            >As she takes a final draught from her juice and sets the cup down, you grab the tray and begin to get off the bed before a hoof on your back stops you.

                                            >“Ma-Anon, did y’all eat breakfast yet?”

                                            >Crap.

                                            “Yep, had breakfast already.”

                                            >“Anon… are y’all lying ta me again?”

                                            >A small bead of sweat forms on your brow as you feel her hoof stamp your shirt to the bed.

                                            >Why she was so obsessed with breakfast, you’ll never understand. You lived a perfectly healthy life by skipping breakfast and eating slightly bigger lunches and dinners.

                                            >You weren’t fat, had some muscles that came with lots of walking and heavy lifting and had no health issues, although you tended to watch your cholesterol.

                                            “I… was going to eat breakfast after I got you some?”

                                            >You turn to see her large eyes narrowing at you, staring into your soul or whatever it is she does with those things. She speaks with an eerie calmness to her voice.

                                            >“Here’s the new plan for today sugarcube. Yer gonna wait here while ah fix you up a proper breakfast, or ah’m gonna slap the collar on ya till you eat.”

                                            >It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know the correct answer.

                                            “Well, I suppose staying in a little later wouldn’t hurt.”

                                            >You give her a forced smile as she smugly grins at you.

                                            >“That’s what ah thought.”

                                            >She grabs the now empty tray in her mouth and extracts herself from the covers, flicking your chin with her tail as she leaves. You smile when she shakes her rump at you as she exits the room, pleased she found pleasure in teasing you without fear. She may never fully heal, but at least she had already made such huge strides.

                                            >You grab your extra wide pillow prop it up against the backboard sit up on the bed, reaching over to the nightstand and pulling her collar over to you as you run your fingers over her name tag again. You found comfort in knowing you coaxed her into revealing her true name. Much better than when you called her Orangina.

                                            >You believed it was an appropriate name, she is the color orange after all.

                                            >The thought that she lied about her true name flashes across your subconscious mind yet again, but is quickly snuffed out by your higher thought processes. Applejack couldn’t lie to save her life.

                                            >You loved it when she tried though, her scrunched up muzzle and darting eyes had become precious to you.

                                            >Thankfully if you poked her snout, it achieved a similar effect.

                                            >Tracing your fingers along the inside of the collar, you can’t help but imagine getting her a new one. Whenever you brought it up she always claimed it was the best collar she’d ever had, but you had your doubts. You were pretty sure her last collar was literally just rusty chains so she didn’t have much experience, comparatively speaking.

                                            >Yet you always found yourself second-guessing yourself when it came to this topic.

                                            >Did her current one chafe?

                                            >Did it pinch out her fur?

                                            >Did you tighten it too much when you put it on? She hates it flopping around her neck and insists you tighten it when you put it on everyday.

                                            >Yet the memory of those chains digging into the raw flesh of her neck, red from a combination of rust and blood, always made you try to keep the collar loose around her neck.

                                            >You weren’t entirely sure why, but today seemed like a good day to surprise her. You remove her name tag from the cheap collar and fling it into the small wire trash bin in the corner of the room.

                                            >Bending over the bed, you remove the bland cardboard box hidden underneath and pull it onto your lap. You open the flaps and pull out Applejack’s surprise.

                                            >A brand new, and expensive leather collar.

                                            >It was measured for her neck exactly, and you purchased an unlimited resizing option, allowing you to send it back if her size changed dramatically enough that her collar became too loose or too tight.

                                            >Its body was a dark obsidian color, with a metal loop on the front for a nameplate/leash. The interior contained a silky smooth layer of… well, silk. The sunlight drifting through the blinds of your window cast a bright white sheen across the fabric as you hook her tag to the collar.

                                            >Right underneath the ring were three different loops that served as the fasteners for the collar. They were very close together, as you did have this pre-measured for her. Yet, this was where your chosen venue for custom collars came back to bite you in the butt.

                                            >There wasn't a buckle to fasten the collar, just the loops that you shoved a pink, heart shaped padlock into.

                                            >But that’s what you get when you order custom collars from bondage shops.

                                            >In your defense, you tried to order a custom collar from specialty pet shops but they didn’t have nearly as many options as the “Dangerous Secret” bondage shop. Really, the silk interior sold you on the collar.

                                            >You were a little obsessed with making sure her collar was the most comfortable thing possible.

                                            >You didn’t think the padlock would be a problem as Applejack was a little obsessed with you being possessive of her, always afraid you’d discard her for another, healthier pony who “liked oranges”.

                                            >You’d never get rid of her in a million years, but you noticed how she’d try to subtly lead you away from pony auctions while you were in town, not to mention her fear of “pony swap” programs that she sometimes saw commercials for on the television.

                                            >Whenever you purchased a new pony, especially other mares, she’d always hide somewhere in the house, terrified that if you found her you’d throw her in the trash. Her behavior almost made you consider not purchasing any more, but they were valuable assets to your farm now. They were like employees with a single down payment instead of a salary.

                                            >Sure, they could be expensive if bought “undamaged”, but you tended to go for the damaged ones. Partially because you felt bad for them, and partially because of how cheap they could be.

                                            >One colt you bought nearly two years ago, even before you had AJ, was literally named Manuel Labor.

                                            >Of course you fucking purchased him.

                                            >Sure, he had whip marks across his back and he looked as skinny as a corpse, but he was fifty bucks.

                                            >Fifty. Bucks.

                                            >The cheapest slave you’d ever seen before him was five hundred dollars.

                                            >Long story short, you bought him, gave him a spare room all to himself and fed him so much junk food he was now the “tubby” one on the farm. Despite his rotund appearance, he could haul with the best of ‘em and proved to be a valuable boon to the farm, as well as one of your closest friends.

                                            >Now you had total of about fifteen ponies on the farm, not including Applejack, and you’d had three additions done to your house so you’d have enough room to house them.

                                            >The looks on their faces when they learned they each had their own separate bedrooms and five different kitchens to themselves was priceless.

                                            >You’d rank it somewhere between “heartbreaking” and “Seinfeld-tier”.

                                            >Still, your house would be pretty hard to sell now, should you ever move. Two-story, fourteen bedroom, ten bath house.

                                            >Come to think of it, it was about to be seventeen ponies total, since most of your ponies had started relationships with others on your farm after you gave them such a wide range of freedom.

                                            >Manuel was gonna be a father soon with his semi-official wife, a pegasus by the name of Ozone.

                                            >Semi-official in the sense that your unofficial ass ordained it in the name of Flying Spaghetti Monster.

                                            >All praise his noodly appendage! RAmen.

                                            >Treat ponies with respect, dignity and give them a roof above their heads and you’ve formed an undying loyalty within them. It probably helped that you let them graze in your mother’s old flower garden whenever they wanted to.

                                            >You’d think it would be bad for them, but no one's keeled over yet so you figure all’s well.

                                            >Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you remove the dozen keys and the two heart shaped padlocks from the box, placing those in your nightstand before tossing the box into the trash too.

                                            >Hiding the collar under the pillow, you lazily browse the internet again as you patiently wait for your breakfast captor to return.

                                            >Halfway through reading Becky’s fucking fifteenth post on social media about how McDonalds is sexist, you hear the door creak open and see Applejack return with a tray expertly balanced on her back. How she does that, you’ll never know.

                                            >You crack a grin as you see two sunny-side up eggs and three strips of bacon, arranged on a ceramic plate in a smiley face and a small plastic bowl containing apple slices off to the side.

                                            >Of course.

                                            >She walks to the side of the bed and waits as you remove the tray from her back, giving her the opportunity to hop back on the bed as well.

                                            >While she scrambles onto the bed with all the grace of a legless kangaroo as her hooves fail to find any grip on the soft comforter, you reach into her nightstand and pull out a tablet and the special hoof glove you purchased for her. She sits by your leg with a quite frankly good pokerface upon her features, despite the fact that all of your queen-sized comforter now rests on the floor.

                                            >She holds out her right forehoof expectantly as you slide the glove over, allowing her to use the touchscreen.

                                            >You dig into breakfast as she idly pokes the device, browsing the various news articles that presented themselves to her.

                                            >The bacon was perfect, chewy with a hint of crispness, just how you enjoyed it. The eggs were nicely done as well, but you didn’t have very high standards for eggs. As long as the whites weren’t runny and a bit of pepper was sprinkled atop, the eggs were perfect.

                                            >Surprise, that’s exactly how AJ made them for you.

                                            >You crunch a few of the crisp apple slices as you alternate between the bacon and eggs, savoring the flavor. Even though you weren’t much of a breakfast man, you had to admit Applejack got it done right.

                                            >Having finished the eggs and bacon, you bite down on the last apple slice, feeling the tangy juice wash around your teeth and lips as you did so. You lean down to place the tray on the floor before grabbing Applejack’s barrel and dragging her over to your chest with a surprised squeak.

                                            >Setting AJ’s back against your chest and her rump between your legs, you grab the tablet and hold it in front of her as she wiggles around, settling into your embrace and continuing to poke through news articles as you read them from behind her.

                                            >You do this for a few minutes before she runs out of articles that interested her, prompting you to remove her glove and place the tablet back in her nightstand.

                                            >You reach down to the tray to grab your drink, but find none there.

                                            >Probably placed it on your nightstand.

                                            >Sitting up, your hand shoots over to your right, but finds no cup atop your table. Looking to your left, you see none on AJ’s stand either.

                                            “Applejack? Did you bring me a drink?”

                                            >You didn’t really care if she didn’t. People occasionally forget things after all, but you just wanted to make sure you didn’t eat the cup or something.

                                            >“About that Master…”

                                            >She twists her barrel around and pushes off your chest into a sitting position between your legs and looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

                                            >“Ah know y’all like milk with yer breakfast, but ya must have drank it all the other night. Wasn’t any in the fridge.”

                                            >Oh.

                                            >Well, she still could’ve gotten you something else but whatever, you’d go to the store later.

                                            >“Seein' as y’all had none, ah went to the garage fridge ta see if ya had a backup gallon.”

                                            >Oh.

                                            >Oh shit.

                                            >Sweat begins to form on your brow again as she places her hoof dead center on your chest and applies a bit of pressure, holding you in place.

                                            >She was going to kill you.

                                            >Her hoof begins tracing small circles in your t-shirt, mopping up the layer of sweat that was slowly forming on your skin.

                                            >“Ya had some more milk in there, but it wasn’t the kind ah expected to find. Ah thought we had this talk before Master?”

                                            >Well, might as well try to defuse the situation before she kills you.

                                            “I uhhh… thought we had this talk before as well? You don’t have to call me master AJ. I’m just as much yours as you are mine.”

                                            > “Mhm. Tryin’ ta change the subject ain’t gonna work A-Master.”

                                            >Shit.

                                            >She looks away from you, disgust written on her features, her eyes refusing to meet your own.

                                            >“Ah can’t believe ya. Almond milk…”

                                            >She practically spits out the word, literally spitting on the wooden floor as she does.

                                            “A-almond milk’s good for you Applejack… I’m just tr-”

                                            >A hoof smacks itself over your mouth halfway through your spiel, effectively silencing you as her elastic frog mashes against your lips.

                                            >“Ah don’t care Master. Almond milk’s for sissies!”

                                            >Her tone becomes irritated as her hoof press harder against your still parted lips.

                                            >”If you’re mine jus’ as much as ah’m yours, then mah Master ain’t gonna be no sissy, ya hear?!”

                                            “Y-yes ma’am!”, you manage to squeak out from under her hoof.

                                            >Satisfied, she retracts it and goes back to tracing circles on your chest as a small grin forms on her muzzle.

                                            >“Ah’ve been takin’ those pills again jus’ in case something like this were to happen again…”

                                            >Pills?

                                            >Oh…

                                            >THOSE pills…

                                            >A blush rushes across your face as you remember the screw-up at the vets office about half a year ago. Instead of Applejack’s painkillers, the assistants screwed up and gave her medication that caused her to-

                                            >“Heh… ah thought you’d be excited ta hear that…”

                                            >Your eyes widen as her hoof traces it’s way down your shirt and over to the now noticeable bulge that had grown in your pants.

                                            “A-applejack wai-”

                                            >This time instead of her hoof silencing you, you feel her lips press against your own, the small fur of her muzzle brushing gently under your nose. As quickly as it began, the kiss ends and she pulls back, her eyes locked to your own.

                                            >“Now don’t you go lyin’ ta me Master. Ah know y’all enjoyed it the last time…”

                                            >Taking a day off wouldn’t be the end of you. Your other ponies would take care of it.

                                            >The pressure of her hoof on your chest increases, and you adjust yourself as you let her gently push you down on the bed.

                                            >“Good boy…”

                                            >Now lying on your backside, she moves to straddle your chest, before backing up until her underside was positioned over your face.

                                            >Her toned belly rises slightly with each breath she takes, and you can feel her tail swish across your forehead in anticipation. You eyes trace their way around the contours of her body, knowingly finding and counting all the scars that hid themselves under her orange-hued fur.

                                            >Your eyes finally come to a rest on her teats, positioned strategically above your face, waiting for you. The heat emanating from her underside causing you to sweat just a bit more.

                                            >You move your hands, one instinctively shooting to AJ’s head and scratching behind her ear, the other moving to cup her left mound.

                                            >Gently squeezing it, you hear Applejack let out a soft moan as a drop of white fluid leaks out, dripping down onto your chin.

                                            >“That’s it sugarcube… why waste yer money on that almond garbage when you’ve got a perfectly good milkmare here at home?”

                                            >Her sultry, southern tone washes away any restraint you had left as your head shoots forward to enclose her teat. You hand moves from her mound over to her thigh, running over her cutie mark and kneading the supple flesh.

                                            >“Ah! T-that’s it sugarcube, drink up…”

                                            >You suckle eagerly from her teat, your tongue swirling around its tip, coaxing a bit more of the liquid out.

                                            >The creamy fluid sloshes around your mouth as you continue to apply suction to her teat, gathering a sizable mouthful of the rich drink before swallowing, sating your parched throat.

                                            >Her milk, while mostly bland, was much more creamy than the average cows milk, and you could taste some fruity undertones.

                                            >You move to her other teat, suckling at the base and letting her flavor wash over you as she watched from around her barrel, biting her lip and blushing heavily. She leans into your touch as you rake your fingers through her hair, scratching around a few of the hard-to reach bug bites she had accumulated from working around the farm.

                                            >Your other hand trails up and down her thigh, admiring her form as you swallow your creamy treat. A thick, viscous liquid plops down onto your forehead, it’s texture not unlike saliva. Still drinking from your mare, your eyes glance up to her slowly winking marehood, her excitement dripping down onto you.

                                            >You release her teat with an audible pop and lap at the few drops that eke their way out afterwards with your tongue, letting her saliva coated mounds glisten in the sunlight.

                                            “Got a bit excited there, huh Applejack?” you teasingly say.

                                            >“A-ah’m sorry master ah was jus thinkin’ about last night an ah got myself all excited an’ ah couldn’t help myself an’ please don-”

                                            “Shhh… It’s okay AJ. I ain’t mad girl…”

                                            >Your hand stops caressing her thigh and shoots up to her head, stroking behind her ear as your opposite hand mirrors the other’s actions.

                                            >She nickers softly as she relaxes in your touch, calmed by your apparently magical fingers.

                                            >“Ah’m sorry master… ah’ll be a better mare for ya!”

                                            >You try to keep the annoyance out of your voice as you respond to her calling you “master” yet again. She was doing pretty well up until she brought you breakfast.

                                            >Resisting the urge to go back to her teats, you gently turn AJ’s head to face yours, her eyes trying to look anywhere but your own.

                                            “Applejack, what’s wrong? You know you don’t need to call me master anymore. I understand you’ll have some slip-ups and that’s okay, but you seem to be going out of your way to call me master now.”

                                            >She flinches and her eyes dart from your own, to the nightstand, then the ceiling, the trash, back to the nightstand, trash again…

                                            >Wait…

                                            >You look over to the trash and see her cheap collar hanging limply over the side of the bin, right next to the box. You put two and two together and realize she’d been thinking you were gonna get rid of her or something.

                                            “Oh Applejack… I ain’t gonna get rid of you girl, you mean too much to me!”

                                            >You gesture to the trash bin and a look of relief crosses her features, but doesn’t completely disappear.

                                            >“But… why y’all getting rid a’ mah collar then? Ah can’t go outside without it…”

                                            >You take one hand and slide it underneath your pillow, fishing out her present. You hold it in front of her face as she seemingly chokes on her words, the action of giving her a new collar having much more impact on her that you would've liked.

                                            “I don’t think you’ll be needing that old thing anymore. My special mare gets a special collar after all.”

                                            >Her orange mouth moves but no words come out, and you can practically see her chest pulsating with her rapidly increasing heartbeat. An incredible blast of heat emanates from her nethers, washing over your face like a wave.

                                            >Since she seemed to be rebooting, you set the collar down and rotate the mare so her fore hooves are planted firmly on your chest. As her body rotates, her head and eyes stay locked to the collar at all times, like her neck was on a pivot.

                                            >You drag it forward and offer it to AJ, who tentatively sniffs at it before running a hoof along the interior.

                                            >“I-it’s so smooth…”

                                            “It better be. Paid like, three hundred dollars for it.”

                                            >Her eyes widen as she searches your face for signs of deceit, before pushing the collar away with a hoof.

                                            >“Ah can’t accept that Mas-Anon… ah ain’t worth that much money. You should this return it an get yer money back…”

                                            “Well that’s too bad, because I think you’re worth much more than that.”

                                            >You reach over to your nightstand and pull out one of the heart padlocks, wrapping the collar around her neck and snapping the lock closed.

                                            >Her eyes go wider as she realizes what just happened, and she curiously pokes at the heart-shaped lock with a hoof. She moves onto the collar itself, adjusting its position on her neck and admiring the soft interior.

                                            “Do you like it Applejack?”

                                            >You didn’t really need to ask, you could tell she liked, or at the very least tolerated it just by her expression alone. The only thing you were worried about was whether or not she’d accept it. Your farmpony could be a stick in the mud about some things.

                                            >“N-no…”

                                            >Her muzzle scrunches up and her emerald eyes dart all around the room, trying to look anywhere but you. You lean forward and plant a kiss on her scrunched snootle, watching with amusement as her eyes cross and she tries to scrunch even harder.

                                            “You’re a terrible liar Applejack.”

                                            >Unscrunching her muzzle, she sheepishly meets your gaze, withering under your genuine affection.

                                            >“Ah ain’t worth this Anon… why’d ya go and spend yer money on a fancy collar?”

                                            “Because you are worth it Applejack. I’d buy fifty of those if it meant you’d understand that.”

                                            >She still seems hesitant to accept, her eyes darting to the bedroom door, observing her new accessory in the mirror.

                                            “I’ll cut you a deal Applejack.”

                                            >Her gaze turns back to you as she cocks her head inquisitively, ears perked forward.

                                            “I’ll give you back your old collar and I’ll stop wasting my money on presents for you, if you can take this one off by yourself.”

                                            >“That ain’t fair! Yer cheatin’!”

                                            >She stands upright and points an accusatory hoof at your face as you lay there and smile. You knew she didn’t really hate it, just that she was too stubborn to accept gifts from you. Seems like she needed a bit of convincing.

                                            >You dig your hand through her mane and pull her into a much more passionate kiss.

                                            >Applejack fights it for only a moment before she starts moaning into your mouth, her hooves shooting to the back of your head bringing you deeper into the kiss.

                                            >You close your eyes as your tongue swipes across her closed lips, demanding entrance, which she eagerly grants. Your short, flat tongue rushes into her, greeting her longer, thicker appendage in a flurry of passionate squelching noises.

                                            >She quickly asserts her oral dominance, wrapping your tongue up in her own and guiding it over her teeth, letting you trace their familiar shape. You can still taste the remanent of apple jelly on her tongue.

                                            >You pull your organ back into your mouth, her’s still entwined with your own as you re-enter familiar territory. Manipulating her muscle over your own teeth, you position her tongue between your canines and gently bite down as she attempts to retract.

                                            >“Mmmpf…”

                                            >Her hooves furiously rub the back of your head, pressing you deeper into her maw. Your tastebuds are overwhelmed by her flavor, and your olfactory senses weren’t much better off as you breath in her apple scented coat.

                                            >You barely register the sound of your door creaking fully open.

                                            >“Hey Anon! Guess wha-oh…”

                                            >Both you and Applejack freeze as Manuel’s familiar voice greets your ears. Mouths still pressed together, your frightened eyes meet in an unspoken agreement that both your ears weren’t playing tricks on you.

                                            >“Hehe, sorry y’all! Didn’t realize you two were having relations.”

                                            >You release your grip on her tongue and she retracts it at light-speed with an audible shlick.

                                            >“Oh wow! How’s that mare-tongue treatin’ you Anon? OW!”

                                            >You lean out from behind Aj’s slowly rotating head, and see Manuel with his wife, Ozone, right outside your door. Most of Ozone’s body wasn't visible in the doorway, that was occupied by Manuel’s hefty frame, but you could see her head and the tips of her fully erect wings, a deep red blush very evident across her frustrated features.

                                            >Manuel was sheepishly looking away now, rubbing a hoof across his chubby side, where Ozone had undoubtedly hit him.

                                            >“Me and the missus just wanted to, uhh… yeah it can wait I guess… Have fun I guess!”

                                            >Applejack groans and smashes her head to your chest with a dull thud as Manuel waves at you and walks away from the doorway, an oblivious smile on his dimpled face. Ozone, still off to the side, can do nothing but indignantly stare at her husband’s backside. Despite her “I’m going to kill him later” face, she musters the courage to step into the doorway.

                                            >Her gray coat was slicked back from what you assumed had to be a recent bath, and a towel was wrapped around her light blue mane like a turban.

                                            >“I’d uhh… like to apologize for our intrusion Master, Manuel was just excited to tell you that the baby started kicking.”

                                            >Despite the awkward situation, you manage to smile at her, pleased the baby seemed to be developing healthily. Your eyes trace across her bloated stomach, in about another month two she’d be due to deliver.

                                            “It’s just Anon, Ozone. You don’t have to call me anything else.”

                                            >“Uhh, sorry Anon. For both things. I’ll uhh… leave you two be.”

                                            >You hear the mare attempting to morph with your shirt breathe a sigh of relief across your chest.

                                            >“Love the new collar by the way AJ. Really makes your coat pop. The heart lock’s a nice touch too, real romantic.”

                                            >“Urghh…”

                                            >Applejack begins bashing her head into your chest at regular intervals as Ozone closes the door behind her, leaving you with your mare. You start scratching behind her ear again, stopping every time she hits your chest. Eventually she gets the message and just sits there, enjoying your touch.

                                            “Still hate the collar?”

                                            >She bats at the padlock a few times, smiling as she does so.

                                            >“Ah suppose not. It fits perfectly and ah admit, it’s much less itchy than th’ other one.”

                                            “I’ll leave the keys in your nightstand. They’re magnetic, so it’ll be a bit easier to get it in the lock. I’m thinkin’ if we tie a string around them, you can turn it by yourself.”

                                            >Her ears flatten against her head as she glares at the door again, before turning back to you.

                                            >“Ah don’t think we’ll need ta worry about that Anon. Ah could sleep in this thing without any problems.”

                                            >She turns around on the bed and faces the door, admiring her new look in the mirror.

                                            >While she spins and poses for herself, your eyes drift back down to her teats, tantalized by the small jiggles her modeling caused to ripple through them.

                                            >You also notice her marehood still remained moist, and although she was no longer winking, the thought of her pleasure button poking out arouses you.

                                            >“Whoops!”

                                            >Her hoof accidentally steps on the semi-chub that had been slowly developing under your pants. She shoots you a half apologetic, half sultry look as her hoof traces over your restrained length, only making it harder.

                                            >“Sorry Anon, forgot where ah was standing. Do ya… want some help with it?”

                                            >Actions speak louder than words, so you place both hands on her rump and pull her into your face, your tongue sliding across her moist folds.

                                            >She lets out a surprised squeak at your forwardness, but arches her back to you, giving you slightly better access to her marehood.

                                            >You continue to lap at her lips, tasting the salty flavor of her arousal as she expertly unzips your pants with her mouth, the padlock on her neck clinking against the brass button on your jeans.

                                            >She nuzzles the open slit in your pants, parting your boxers enough to let your member spring to life. Her hot breath blows across your throbbing erection as she kisses the head.

                                            >Her winking had returned with vigor, and you decide to return the favor by kissing her clit as it pops out from behind her hood, flicking it with your tongue as you did.

                                            >“Ah!”

                                            >The sensation sends a chill up her spine as her body shudders in kind. A moment later she reciprocates by wrapping her lips around the head and swirling her tongue around your glans.

                                            >You resist the urge to moan by darting your tongue in between her folds, slowly thrusting in and out at a steady pace.

                                            >Resisting another urge to bury your entire face into her nethers, you grip her firm flanks and massage her mark with one hand, your other one tracing up and down her thigh, admiring the toned muscle underneath the skin.

                                            >AJ moans around your length, the vibrations of her mouth sending a wave of pleasure through you. Her head begins to bob up and down as she continues to stimulate your head with her tongue.

                                            >When her clit pops out again you drag your tongue across the moist bundle of nerves, sending another shudder through her body as she involuntarily bucks her hips, accidentally pushing your tongue deeper into her.

                                            >She starts to retract her rump from your face but you pull back, holding her flanks in place as you lap and swirl your tongue deep inside her sensitive flesh.

                                            >“Mmmm…”

                                            >The southern accent she held made her moans all the more attractive to you, encouraging your now rapid tongue motions.

                                            >Inspired by your actions, she swallows your length to about three quarters of the way down and curls her tongue around your member.

                                            >She unwinds her muscle before snaking it around you once again repeating the process in quick succession, effectively jerking you off inside her moist mouth.

                                            >You move your mouth down to her hood and create a vacuum between your lips, pulling out her clit. You can feel flank trembling slightly in anticipation of your next move.

                                            >Her button peeks out and you gently hold it in place with your teeth as your tongue massages around the sensitive flesh, sending pleasured shivers throughout her body.

                                            >You stop fondling her flank and position your hand above her hole, sliding two fingers in wiggling them around before thrusting slowly.

                                            >Your spare hand finds her teat and pinches the tip, eliciting a surprised squeal from her as your fingers become slick from your drying saliva and the few remaining droplets of her milk.

                                            >The sensations of her tongue and hot breath across your shaft send pleasurable waves through your brain and you could feel yourself getting closer to the end.

                                            “A-Applejack… I’m close…”

                                            >Instead of responding, you feel the vibrations of her giggling dance across your shaft as she takes your entire length into her maw. She doesn’t budge, choosing instead to hum softly and continue jerking your length with her tongue as the insanely hot breath coming from her nostrils heats your pants, leaving a hot spot right over your balls.

                                            >You continue to hold her clit in place between your teeth as you stimulate the top with your tongue, now penetrating her with three fingers thrusting violently as you hold tightly onto her dock.

                                            >You could tell she was close as well, but your own orgasm was rising much quicker than you would have preferred.

                                            >You reluctantly release her clit from your grasp and position your canines over the spot where it peeks out.

                                            >Memorizing the pattern in her rapid winking, you pinch down right as her button peaks out, sending a wave of pleasure through Applejack that pushes her over the edge.

                                            >“Unghh!”

                                            >The sensation of her vibrating throat as she moans with her climax finishes you off.

                                            >Your shaft contracts and convulses as you launch your seed down Applejacks throat, who dutifully swallows it all without spilling a drop.

                                            >Her legs finally give out and she flops onto your chest as your shrinking shaft slides out of her mouth. You continue to lap at the area around her folds for a few more moments before slapping your head back to the pillow, licking her cum off your lips and fingers.

                                            >If you didn't need a shower before, you definitely did now.

                                            >“Hah… so, you ready to get to work now?”

                                            >Your roll your eyes as AJ giggles on your stomach. Today was gonna be a lazy day for you two, no doubt about it.

                                            “I think I’ll take the day off to be with my mare instead. Love ya’ Applejack.”

                                            >You wrap your arms around her rump and kiss her flank, hugging her body tightly to your own as you close your eyes and relax.

                                            >Applejack does the same, laying her face down next to your flaccid penis and nuzzling it, before closing her eyes as well.

                                            >“Ah love ya too, Anon.”

                                            >Yep.

                                            >Lazy day.