SPG Mayor Mare


                                            >The quiet hum of the Cadillac's engine is the only sound as you turn off the country lane and onto the long driveway leading to your house.

                                            >The wooded lot eventually reveals a large brick house, built in the Georgian style.

                                            >A replica of a Southern Classic.

                                            >In your passenger seat, twitching nervously but with her eyes plastered on the house ahead, is a beige pony with a silver mane.

                                            >"Eminent Scroll" her papers said.

                                            >They also said she used to be the mayor of her hometown, and more recently had worked in a WPA office (project ended), a library (budget cuts) and finally a copy center.

                                            >And apparently ponies aren't cheaper than minimum wage when you can't house them in your store.

                                            >So here she is, riding shotgun in your CTS.

                                            >When the salespeople weren't paying attention, you seized the chance to ask the pony assistant some questions.

                                            >Well, one question, really.

                                            >Any signs of past abuse?

                                            >Thankfully, none.

                                            >You're not a therapist, you just needed a secretary for your real estate business.

                                            >And this one looked like a respectable and mature pony (with applicable experience to boot!) so you bought her and now she's here.


                                            >As the garage door closes behind you, Eminent Scroll follows you inside.

                                            "Alright, first off, do you have a nickname by any chance?"

                                            >"Pardon?" she asks, clearly caught off-guard by the first question.

                                            "A nickname. A shortened version of your name. It's going to get old saying 'Eminent Scroll' every time I need you."

                                            >"Well, most ponies just called me Mayor Mare for the last decade-"

                                            "Might be cute, and I might still use it someday, but not for now." you say with a chuckle. "Eminent...Scroll...Eminent...Em. I'm just going to call you Em."

                                            >"Yes, sir."

                                            "Okay Em, now that we've got that out of the way. Let me show you around the house and I'll explain what you're going to be doing here."

                                            >She nods unsurely as you lead the way into the house proper.

                                            >Walking through the kitchen, you gesture to the fridge.

                                            "Let me know some things to buy that are pony acceptable and I'll stock the fridge and pantry. If you remind me, I'll try to keep that stuff on the lower shelves for you."

                                            >"Thank you sir, that is most considerate."

                                            "Okay, new rule: call me Anon." you instruct, stopping just long enough to make eye contact. "I know there are all sorts of videos out there about how to correctly train ponies and just as many books, but I'm just looking for a secretary that I pay in room and board, okay?"

                                            >She seems surprised, but there's a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

                                            >Pretty cute.

                                            >"Yes Anon, I understand," she answers. "Will I be responsible for the household?"

                                            "Mmmm...yes and no." you say, waving for her to follow as you move into the formal dining room. "You'll be responsible for yourself, more or less. Cooking and cleaning up after yourself, keeping your room clean, etc."

                                            >She seems relieved.

                                            >You don't blame her.

                                            >It's a big house.

                                            >Far too much for her to handle on top of the more important work you actually bought her to do.

                                            >Can't have her lose focus.

                                            "I actually have a cleaning service that comes by once a week for a quick cleaning," you explain, moving down the hallway. "Once a month they deep clean the place."

                                            >Now that you think about it...

                                            "I think the entire crew is ponies. Feel free to converse with them, if you'd like."

                                            >And maybe, if she's trustworthy, you can eventually let her inspect and sign off on their work.

                                            >One less bill for you to handle.

                                            >"That would be nice." she mumbles "Are they...nevermind."

                                            "Are they what?" you ask, pushing open the door to the office suite.

                                            >"I do hope they're treated well, is all."

                                            "I've never seen any bruises" you shrug "It's the same company I used before ponies came to our world and the human workers seemed to be doing alright."

                                            >"I see. Thank you, Anon."

                                            >Making your way upstairs, you turn away from the Master Bedroom but jerk your thumb over the shoulder at the door.

                                            "That's my room. If something happens at night, don't hesitate to come get me." you instruct, making your way down the hall.

                                            >Past several empty guest rooms and a common bathroom is a pair that share a bathroom between them.

                                            "This one is yours. Kind of bare for now, but we can work on that if you earn it." you say, opening the door.

                                            >Inside has a simple, but comfortable bed, a chest of drawers and a desk.

                                            >The room isn't big, but even so it feels empty with so little inside.

                                            >You follow the mare as she peeks into the bathroom.

                                            >It has already been renovated to have a pony toilet and a pony-height shower head.

                                            "The room next door is just storage, so I had this set up for you."

                                            >She says nothing, but she's lost the nervous tension in her posture from when you first bought her.

                                            >You didn't think what you provided was a lot, but then again, you'd heard some horror stories.

                                            "Well, any questions for me? If not, I have some emails to answer."

                                            >"When do I start work?"

                                            "As soon as you're ready. Just don't take too long."

                                            >Em looks around the bare room for a moment.

                                            >"I am ready now, Anon."

                                            "Let's go then."


                                            ________________________________________________________________________

                                            Chapter 2

                                            ________________________________________________________________________


                                            "Em, grab that please!"

                                            >"Yes, Anon!"

                                            >A scurrying of hooves and the ringing in the other room goes quiet.

                                            >Em has really taken to her new job, she just sometimes gets carried away talking to the cleaners.

                                            >You've considered doing something about that, but it hasn't become a serious problem...yet.

                                            >Instead you'll just see how it develops.

                                            >On your computer, you're browsing foreclosures in the area.

                                            >You made your real money as a developer and landlord in town, but you sold all of that just before the downturn.

                                            >And then you couldn't resist all the easy takings when the tourist cabins went belly-up.

                                            >These days the pickings aren't as good.

                                            >And that suits you fine.

                                            >You're as retired as you'll ever be right now.

                                            >Just a few irons in the fire to keep yourself busy.

                                            >Through the glass door, you see Em scribbling something down as she talks to whoever it is on her headset.

                                            >Every so often a swish of her tail drags your attention downward.

                                            >You can't deny, curves are curves.

                                            >So what if she's a pony?

                                            >She taps the phone and you look up just in time for her to turn around.

                                            >"Brian says the roof on the Honeysuckle Cabin is ready for shingles, and he was very clear that he didn't want to see any more, and I quote-" she straightens up and hold her nose in the air "-goddamn cheap-ass Chinese bullshit shingles."

                                            >You throw you head back and laugh, and you can hear her laughing too.

                                            >Hell of a guy, Brian.

                                            >Wiping a tear from your eye, you get up from your desk and stretch.

                                            >Without even thinking about it, you reach over and tousle Em's mane.

                                            "Let's go get some lunch."

                                            >She smiles and nods, heading towards the kitchen, but you head on through towards the garage.

                                            >As you pass her by, you land a firm swat on her flank, eliciting a surprised yelp from her.

                                            "Don't let the cleaners interfere with your work, I'd hate to have to find a new company. They do such good work." you say, opening the door, and beckoning to the car beyond. "You coming or what?"

                                            >With an embarrassed nod and flushed cheeks, Em scurries past you into the garage.


                                            >Arriving at a pony-friendly cafe (kind of a local Panera knock-off) you open the door and let Em go in front of you.

                                            >Immediately after entering, you notice a pony bussing tables and another delivering food.

                                            >The only cashier is a kid, likely her Summer job.

                                            >You ponder the menu for a few moments.

                                            "What are you thinking of getting, Em?"

                                            >"What am I...what?"

                                            >Looking down, she looks up at you with eyes wide with confusion.

                                            >You haven't seen that look since...well, her first week.

                                            "You okay?"

                                            >She scuff the floor with a hoof while looking away and mumbling something under her breath.

                                            >Taking a knee, you reach out and take her by the chin (which is unbelievably soft and fuzzy) and point her snout to nose with you.

                                            "Em."

                                            >"A-Anon."

                                            "When was the last time you ate at a restaurant?"

                                            >She looks away again, forcing you to take her head in your hands, gently rubbing her temple with a thumb.

                                            "A long time, then." you say, pulling her in for a hug. "Well, those days are over. Take your time."

                                            >You can feel her relax into your arms, and you stay that way for a minute.

                                            >When she finally lets go, you push some of that grey mane out of her face.

                                            "Order whatever you want, okay?"

                                            >She nods, and you stand up, knees popping as you do.

                                            >With a step forward, you come to the register and order a sandwich and a cup of soup.

                                            >The girl gives you a soft smile, before Em finally steps forward.

                                            >Em, on the other hand, decides to take you up on your offer.

                                            >She gets the Summer Salad with berries and almonds, a sandwich stuffed with med-veg, a cup of the cream of broccoli soup, a side of cauliflower-Cheese Bake and a Blueberry Muffin the size of a softball.

                                            >And a small black coffee.

                                            >You can't help but chuckle as the bewildered teenager takes the order, looking up to you after every item for confirmation.

                                            >Every time, you just nod and smile, each approval only encouraging your companion.

                                            >Handing over your credit card, you take your cups and the muffin, as well as a number for the rest of the food.

                                            >You hand Em the muffin, which she gingerly takes in her mouth, before telling her to go grab a table outside.

                                            >As you fill the cups, you watch her trot outside and secure a table.

                                            >Before you get to it, you can see a woman walk over to the table, and set her purse on it.

                                            >Coming through the door onto the patio, you can hear Em trying to explain that she's holding the table for you.

                                            >"Go on, shoo, pony!" she dismisses irritably. "Your owner shouldn't have let you off your leash!"

                                            "Can I help you?" you say, setting the drinks on the table.

                                            >"Excuse me, this is /my/ table."

                                            "No, I'm afraid your mistaken. It's my table, I sent Em here to secure it while I filled our cups. She's not quite tall enough to do the job, you see."

                                            >"Ponies can't hold tables."

                                            "Just leave."

                                            >"No."

                                            >"Please Anon, let's just-"

                                            >Before Em can finish, you deliberately push the woman's overstuffed purse off of the table, sending it and its contents scattering across the sidewalk outside of the fenced in patio area.

                                            >"How dare you!"

                                            >"Anon!"

                                            "Let's go find another table."

                                            >As the woman leaves the patio in a huff to get her purse, you take a table at the far end.

                                            >A few moments later, a nice family of four comes in and takes the now vacant table.

                                            >The woman storms in and demands that they leave /her/ table.

                                            >Reaching across the table, you take one of Em's hooves.

                                            "You might want to watch this, but keep quiet, okay?"

                                            >She nods and slowly turns around.

                                            >You don't let go though.

                                            >The mother leaves while the father continues to stand his ground, refusing to yield the table to the angry woman.

                                            >Your food arrives while the argument continues, the serving pony having to take a weaving route through the other tables to avoid the conflict.

                                            "Excuse me, Miss...?"

                                            >"Mocha, sir."

                                            "Miss Mocha, is there a manager available?"

                                            >"I think he's about to be busy with that other table, but I'll tell him you want to speak to him."

                                            "It's about that other table, actually. So as soon as he's finished there will be fine."

                                            >You quietly watch the argument escalate, despite the arrival of a young man with a neatly trimmed beard and slightly baggy dress shirt, the young woman following close behind.

                                            >Through the whole argument, you never let go of Em's hoof.

                                            >For her part, she never takes it away.

                                            >She does slowly consume the entire blueberry muffin though.

                                            >Eventually the defiant father says something that so enrages the woman that she slaps him.

                                            >That was the line, it seems, for the poor manager.

                                            >Not that she listens to him either.

                                            >So you get the pleasure of watching the mess for another ten minutes until the police show up and forcibly remove her from the premises.

                                            "Sometimes the good guys still win." you chuckle, finally releasing Em's hoof and picking up your sandwich.

                                            >"I don't know how some people can be so awful."

                                            "You never met ponies like that?"

                                            >"Yes, I meant that generally. There are ponies just as stuck-up and entitled. Or there were."

                                            "Yeah, those ponies probably haven't had a great time on Earth."

                                            >"It is a little cathartic, I suppose, to imagine Pearl Necklace having to act as a maid to a human family."

                                            "That's the spirit." you offer. "Now eat, before it all goes cold."

                                            >Em eagerly tucks into her salad, muzzle deep in spinach and berries when she sheepishly looks up at you.

                                            >"Thank you, by the way. I haven't been defended by a human before..."

                                            >Swallowing a spoonful of soup, you reach over and tousle that grey mane.

                                            "No stuck up bitch is going to talk to my mare like that."

                                            >She looks away with a tiny smile, a bit of blush on her cheeks, before frowning and becoming serious.

                                            >"Aren't you worried you'll get in trouble though?"

                                            "Not in the slightest."

                                            >"Anon."

                                            "I'm serious."

                                            >"Sir, you wanted to see me?"

                                            >It's the poor manager, finally making his way over.

                                            "Yes, son. No need to worry, I don't need a comp or anything like that." you reassure him "I think you've had enough to deal with. Just give my card here to John, I'll talk to him about all of this."

                                            >"Uh, sure? I hope she didn't bother you too much-"

                                            "Oh she did." you shoot back. "But it isn't your fault, just please give him the card. We're old friends."

                                            >"Of course sir, I'll give Mr. Stevens your card."

                                            "Thank you."


                                            >That evening, after your buddy John called and promised that he would ban that awful woman from his restaurant, you relax with a beer on the porch swing.

                                            >The tell-tale clip-clop of hooves on hardwood tells you that Em is coming to join you.

                                            >She takes a seat on the floor, next to you.

                                            >Idly stretching out your hand, you run a finger along the edge of one of her ears, sending it flicking in all directions until she bats your hand away.

                                            >"Anon, stop that!"

                                            "Don't think so."

                                            >She looks up at you, then trots around you, hopping onto the far end of the porch swing.

                                            >Setting down your beer, you grab her by the hind hoof and drag her across the polished wood slats and into your lap.

                                            >"A-anon, what are you d-doing?" she stammers, blushing fiercely as you pull her against you.

                                            >You don't respond, opting instead to run your fingers through her mane as you slowly rock the swing.

                                            >As the sun sets, you sit in silence with Em, your breathing slowly harmonizing as you share some peace after a stressful day.

                                            >By the time the horizon has faded to reds and purples and the stars have come out, Em is asleep in your arms.

                                            >Silly mare, thinking you wouldn't have her back.

                                            >She's your mare, after all.

                                            >Without thinking twice, you carry her up to your bedroom with you, sliding under the covers with her still clinging to you.

                                            >She warms the bed up quickly, and you can't help but think of how much you've missed having someone to share your bed with at night.

                                            >It's been too long.

                                            >And Em is more than just a pony you bought.

                                            >You wouldn't have stood up for just a pony.

                                            >She's your friend, partner and companion.

                                            >Could you...?

                                            >She's pretty cute...

                                            >Bah, questions for tomorrow.


                                            >Em is adorably embarrassed in the morning.

                                            >Positively panicking that she crossed some line by sleeping in your bed.

                                            >It is hilarious to watch her through barely open eyes as she carefully pries herself out of your grasp, then carefully covers you back up with the sheets and silently escapes out the door.

                                            >You lie in bed for a while longer, before rolling out from under the sheets and onto your feet.

                                            >Stretching, you can hear the creaking and popping of certain joints, reminding you that Em isn't weightless.

                                            >Still, you'd happily carry her off to bed again.

                                            >Tonight, even.


                                            >You spend the day pretending nothing happened.

                                            >It's fun to spend breakfast watching Em gauging your reactions, trying to see what you're thinking.

                                            >Unfortunately, you have to go inspect some projects in person, leaving your mare behind to pay some bills and direct the cleaning service.

                                            >She enjoys talking to other ponies, but you wish you were home to tease her a little bit.

                                            >Oh well.

                                            >Dinner is just veggies and meat on the grill.

                                            >With extra veg, since Em doesn't eat meat.

                                            >But it's filling, and quick to clean up.

                                            >Which is perfect.

                                            >Because it allows you to mellow out with Em over a bottle of wine.

                                            >Pulling her in for cuddling just like last night.

                                            >And taking her to bed, just like last night.

                                            >Just like every night, from now on.


                                            >This goes on for over a week.

                                            >After dinner cuddling, followed by you carrying her to bed.

                                            >As she becomes comfortable with it, she stops leaving before you wake up.

                                            >And you become comfortable with the idea of being with a pony.

                                            >Excited at the prospect, even.

                                            >So you set a mental line in the sand.

                                            >When she crosses it, you'll pounce.

                                            >So when she stays awake through your cuddling, talking to you the whole time, you know it's close.

                                            >And the next night, she doesn't have to be carried.

                                            >She walks right into your room like she owns it.

                                            "Don't wait for me, your highness." you joke

                                            >"Oh, I guess it's just force of habit."

                                            "I'm glad it is." you say, entering the room behind her.

                                            >"I bet you are." she shoots back.

                                            "I don't think I'm the only one."

                                            >"Whatever could you mean, Anon?"

                                            >Wrapping an arm around her barrel you toss her onto the bed.

                                            >Taking your shirt off, you drop it on the floor as she watches.

                                            >Your pants follow.

                                            >Hopping onto the bed, you crawl up beside her.

                                            >She carefully places her glasses on the nightstand as you start to rub her gently, hand slowly working its way down to knead her flank.

                                            >"A-Anon, just w-what do you think you're d-doing?"

                                            >You ignore her question, continuing to explore her body while she feebly paws at your boxers with her hind hooves.

                                            >"A-Anon, I-"

                                            "Shhhh" you quiet her, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

                                            >Running a hand along her barrel, it brushes back over her flank before moving on to run its fingers through her tail.

                                            >Your other arm supports you while also toying with her mane.

                                            "Em..."

                                            >She offers a nervous smile.

                                            >Your hand follows he leg back up and drifts beneath her tail.

                                            >It whips back and forth, gently lashing out against your legs as your fingers journey lower.

                                            >Finding their mark, you spread your fingers to catch the labia between them, gently rubbing and tugging at them while her heat warms your palm.

                                            >Em moans, and arches her back a little, leaning her head back against the pillows.

                                            >This leaves her neck vulnerable, and you waste no time planting a kiss right below her temple and proceeding to work your way down to the little tuft of fur on her chest.

                                            >As you nuzzle the soft fur here, she wraps her hooves around your head to hold you there.

                                            >With your one hand, you now bury fingers in her silver mane.

                                            >With the other, you plunge a finger past her folds.

                                            >Another moan, and a loosened grip allows you to slide up to nip at her neck.

                                            >For an older mare, she's making an awful mess in your palm as you begin to slowly work the finger in and out of her.

                                            >She bucks eagerly at your ministrations, and mewls pitifully as you withdraw your hand.

                                            >Looking up into your eyes, she seems worried by your smile.

                                            >Pushing her legs further apart, you begin to slide down her body, leaving a trail of little kisses and nips as you go.

                                            >Locking your arms around her hips, you pause to appraise your target.

                                            >It's not so different that you can't guess how to proceed.

                                            >Teasing along the outer lips starts to get her really worked up.

                                            >Her forehooves can barely reach your hair, frantically trying to gain purchase in order to direct you.

                                            >But you carefully evade her grasp, moving lower, until something taps your chin.

                                            >It takes a few seconds, but it happens again.

                                            >She lets out a frustrated groan as you pull back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, when you spot the source of the bump.

                                            >Oh ho ho!

                                            >So this is what they mean by winking!

                                            >Well, then.

                                            >Poor Em yelps in surprise as you pull her closer and tilt her plot up for better access, tail thrown over your shoulder thrashing excitedly across your back.

                                            >Diving back in, you return to running your tongue up and down her sensitive flesh...only this time you're not just working her up.

                                            >This time you're stalking your prey.

                                            >When that little bump on your chin returns, you bring your tongue in closer.

                                            >Right next to the source.

                                            >Small, rapid, flicking motions have the poor mare panting, forehooves thrown wide on the sheets, hind hooves kicking aimlessly at the air behind your head.

                                            >A tiny tap on your lower lip and you strike.

                                            >Dropping your entire mouth over her clit, you suck...hard.

                                            >"AnooooOOOOooon!" she wails, back arching tremendously as you refuse to let your prize retreat.

                                            >You let it go, only to find it returning almost instantly.

                                            >Each time she winks, you hit back with a flick or jab of the tongue.

                                            >Your arms clamp down harder on her legs, before you get kicked in the head.

                                            >Finally, you recapture her clit and it pushes her over the edge.

                                            >In the process, you learn that there's some truth to the marecum myths online.

                                            >She's a panting mess, but you've got yourself to think of still.

                                            >Tomorrow you'll have to talk to her about her revised 'duties'.

                                            >Climbing over her, she looks up at you, unsure of what's about to happen.

                                            >"A-Anon?"

                                            >You only offer a predatory grin as your hips lurch forward, sliding your entire length into her as she mewls in protest.

                                            >"Anon, Anon I can't! It's too-too soon!"

                                            "Oh Em, you should know that I don't put in that kind of work if I don't intent to follow through." you growl, picking up the pace.

                                            >Two hooves paw weakly at your chest, feigning protest, but the lust in her eyes tells a different story.

                                            >She turns away and closes her eyes, and you lean in close.

                                            "Who's my mare?"

                                            >When she doesn't answer, you slap her flank -hard- and ask again.

                                            "Who's my mare."

                                            >"I-I am."

                                            "You are?"

                                            >"I am."

                                            "I don't believe you."

                                            >"I am!"

                                            >You pick up the pace further, slamming with all your strength into that mess of a marehood.

                                            "What are you?" you ask again, landing another blow to her flank.

                                            >"I'm-ow! I'm your mare!"

                                            "So I own this flank?" you ask, squeezing the tender spot.

                                            >"Owowow yessss-" she hisses.

                                            "And what about this?" you ask, dipping your head in to graze her neck with your teeth.

                                            "Y-y-yessir!"

                                            "And what about your pussy?"

                                            >"Yes, sir..." she whispers, looking away again.

                                            "Look at me, Em." you command, her head slowly moving to meet your gaze. "Tell me, when can I use my mare."

                                            >"Any time." she answers, and as you raise a hand she repeats it louder. "Any time, Master!"

                                            "Wherever I want?"

                                            >"Wherever! Whenever! Bend me over my desk! I'm yours! Your mare!"

                                            >She's practically screaming as she tips over the edge again, and you can tell you won't be far behind her.

                                            >Shifting yourself upright, you pull her legs against your chest and watch her chest heaving, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, forehooves pulled up close still.

                                            >Unloading inside of her, you let go of her and pause to drink it all in.

                                            >Finally crawling up beside her, you drag her up against you and whisper into her ear.

                                            "My mare."