Untapped market by Anon


                                            Untapped market by Anon


                                            (18/07/2021)


                                            https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/37198652/#q37270061


                                            ---


                                            >Vinyl Scratch laid upon the padded, wooden beam of a saw horse. Both her fore legs and back legs dangled down either side of the beam, but were fastened tight to the ground beneath them, courtesy of bolts, chains, and cuffs around her hooves. She’d been like this for at least an hour, jeered at by crowds of gossiping griffons, who jabbed their talons in her direction, laughing among themselves at her expense. Usually she craved being the center of attention, but man, this shit sucked hard.

                                            >If nothing else, the past hour had been painfully boring, and even more painfully uncomfortable, and that was before dwelling on all the abject humiliation. She’d been wrestled into her bondage by no fewer than four strong-armed griffons, who yanked her off-stage without even a second’s consideration of being gentle.

                                            >Turns out, her harebrained scheme of “breaking into an untapped market” by barging onto the stage of some weirdass desert carnival and blaring her tunes was actually a really stupid idea. The griffons who run the show certainly didn’t seem to like it. In fact, they fucking hated it. Turns out, this wasn’t even really a carnival. It was, as a matter of fact, a market, and the stage wasn’t exactly meant for the performing arts, as it were. Birds took their flea markets real seriously, apparently.

                                            >And so here Vinyl was. The afternoon sun was in prime position to be an utterly loathsome foe. It hung in the sky facing her rear, sweltering her with desert heat. Most ponies would’ve been thankful for being faced away from the glary sunshine, but unlike most ponies, she was wearing shades. Also unlike most ponies, she picked today to wear her leather raving getup. The squeaky leather hitched up her rear end, giving her the most absolutely maddening, frustrating wedgie straight from the depths of Tartarus. Did she pick the wrong fucking day to wear this getup. Leather chafed like a bitch, man. Combined with the Celestia’s malevolence beaming down right on her ass too, she was practically cooking inside the leather. Random streams of sweat dribbled and tickled down her buttcrack, further adding to her torment.

                                            >All the same, suffering though she was, Vinyl was living in complete blissful ignorance of the fact that this wasn’t actually part of her punishment. With her neck bound to face forward and forward only, she was entirely oblivious to the fact that someone or something had stepped up behind her. For a brief moment, she was thankful for the brief moment in the shade, until it dawned on her the shadow belonged to a towering figure who was looming over her menacingly.

                                            >The figure wandered into her line of sight, causing Vinyl to groan in frustration as the full heat of the sun came bearing down on her once more. However, she was about to quickly realize that the summer sun was going to be the least of her troubles.


                                            >The shadow, as it happened, belonged to a dragoness. Whoever she was, she stood at least a head taller than most dragons she’d seen pass through Ponyville (which were admittedly few), and had the musculature to match. Her biceps alone rippled with enviable, evident strength, as she carried a rather hefty bag slung over her shoulder. Her scales were a rocky grey, and her headfins a blazing red.

                                            >Whoever she was, she regarded Vinyl with a smug, shit-eating sneer that caused the blood in her veins to pump hard and fast. Whoever bore that kind of expression to someone in her situation, probably didn’t bode well.

                                            >“How you doin’, stickhead?” asked the dragon, her voice husky and somewhat on the deeper side for a female. “Let’s cut straight to the chase, yeah? I’m hired by these birds to do one thing. Someone acts up around these parts?”

                                            >The dragon slaps her hands together, creating a loud clap that caused Vinyl’s ears to wince and fold.

                                            >“Wham! I teach ‘em a lesson. Hope your butt is ready for a beatin’, pony. I ain’t gonna lie, it won’t be over fast. Your ass is mine for the next three hours.”

                                            >“W-w-what- the… t-the fuck you m-mean?..” Vinyl spluttered out, the sheer shock of her situation’s descent into further morbidity causing her voice to stammer and crack with a raw surge in adrenaline.

                                            >“Psht,” spat the dragon, hocking a gob of saliva at the ground, before cracking their knuckles. “I’m on the clock here. Ain’t gonna waste time explainin’ it. All you gotta do is sit pretty and take it.” She chuckled to herself, her laughter a deep, growling rumbling that came from her gut. “Nah though, you ain’t gonna be able to take it, and it won’t be pretty. That ain’t my problem though. You can call me Mags. It’s short for Magma but who cares, we ain’t here to be pals.”

                                            >Before Vinyl could protest further, the dragoness disappeared behind her yet again, bag in tow, beyond where she could croon her neck back. That was a bad sign.

                                            >What was an even worse sign was the sudden invasion of strong, scaly digits rummaging into the hem of her leather pants. Sweat-wicked and glued to her flank as they were, the mere act of peeling them back caused a suctiony *slurp* to be heard. Beyond that, Mags wasn’t exactly gentle in yanking off the rest, inch by inch, in what was a rather rough dressing down.

                                            >In spite of the fact ponies seldom wore clothes, Vinyl felt -exposed- as all fuck. Her ass was naked to the sweltering air, every humid draft kissing at her sweat-stained butt crack and mare parts. It felt like absolute relief to have them off, even if they were rudely crumped and hurled at the ground, but it still didn’t bode well. The unicorn’s rear end, as far as rear ends went among ponies, was definitely more on the sizable, plusher side, owing to the slovenly lifestyle of music production, fatty foods and soda. Her butt cheeks jiggled with motion from the mere act of her pants being wrenched off.


                                            >Vinyl could only splutter out additional bewildered protests as Mags went about her work, as she rummaged through her bag in search of Celestia knows what. Unbeknownst to Vinyl, a small bottle of lotion was procured, and the dragoness set herself to the task of applying it, liberally at that. The bottle was given a harsh squeeze, half its contents being squirted out in one heavy heap into the dragon’s hands, before said hands slapped down on her flanks.

                                            >The unicorn shifted and groaned in her bondage, muscles tensing under the unexpected and unconsented stimuli. Mags’ strong hands gripped, squeezed and massaged her cheeks with no degree of delicacy, soaking the oil layers deep through her fur and the skin underneath. She took obvious relish in her task, hands exploring the full canvas of Vinyl’s plump backside, eagerly rubbing away as the powerful fingers kneaded into her as if she were dough. Her ass jiggled with the physicality of every grope and squeeze, the mare wincing and grunting, lost somewhere between unwanted pleasure and pain both.

                                            >It felt sort of good, in a way she didn’t want it to. And it was rough and almost painful, in a way she wanted even less. The matter only became more woefully confusing when the foreign digits began sliding their way deeper between her cheeks. Without any regard for personal space, the dragon’s hands deep dived between her cheeks, grabbing every inch of her flank, thumbs grazing even over her butthole, in the deeper crevices that were even sweatier and more humid than the rest of her.

                                            >Vinyl gasped and shuddered pitifully when the fingers began trailing to the tip of her nethers. The oil-slick hands kneaded into her junk with as much careless disregard as the rest of her, fingers clumsily toying with her clit and falling into her marehood proper. Vinyl’s teeth grit, and as much as she didn’t want to, she let out a breathy, panicked moan, the first whispers of a building climax beginning to arise. Just as quickly as they came though, the dragon’s hands left her, simply having added another frustration to her misery.

                                            >“F-fuck you…” muttered Vinyl, half growling, half whining.

                                            >“Fuck me?” asked Mags, as if surprised. “Hah. That’s rich. I ain’t even started yet, dumbass pony. Save you insults for when you -really- mean ‘em.”

                                            >The dragoness wiped her hands off on the bondage implement, before turning to her bag once more. This time, she kept no secret as to what she just fished free from within, dangling it menacingly right in front of Vinyl’s eyes, which immediately shrunk to fearful pinpricks.

                                            >“N-no…” Vinyl pleaded, shaking her head as much as she could given her restrictions.

                                            >“Yes. Yes yes yes…” Mags responded, gently slapping the implement to her palm.


                                            >It was a paddle. A hefty one. Lovingly crafted from only the finest hardwood, perfectly perforated with the exact balance of holes for intense aerodynamic swinging without any detraction to the overall weight. She understood now why the griffons hired a dragon to do their dirty work. Only someone with biceps that big could swing this -motherfucking- thing around for long enough.

                                            >Vinyl’s heart raced as the dragon returned to her place behind her. Her breathing was fast and panicky, and she was tense enough that even the playful starter slap given by hand to her backside was enough to cause her to gasp out loudly. It didn’t hurt much, yet, but it was enough to leave her nervous system ringing in alarm, on absolute high alert.

                                            >All she could do was wait. Her ass glistened with sweat and lotion underneath the desert sun, blushed, naked and tenderized waiting for the first real swing, which was lined up perfectly already. Mags took aim, and unleashed the first blow.

                                            >It was a heavy swing. The paddle smacked into her ass hard enough for a loud, wet -slap- to ring out, audible to anyone standing nearby. Her entire backside jiggled without pause, the blow practically rippling the flesh.

                                            >“GAH!!!” Vinyl yelled out, in raw sensory overload. She almost didn’t feel the pain yet, the sudden blow to her system practically being white noise from shock alone. The same could not be said for the next three strikes.

                                            >These -definitely- hurt. The shock had worn off, and the pain set in. It radiated through her entire being, emanating from her flank, as additional, hefty blows were delivered without mercy, the hard, unbending wood spanking into her flank without pause.

                                            >“AaAaaAA!!! W-wait!!! S-stop!!!” Vinyl called out, the pain flooding her flanks causing an immediate and overwhelming sense of panic. Her chains rattled and jingled as her limbs trembled. Her teeth grit, her muscles coiled and tensed. But the blows kept coming.

                                            >*Slap slap slap*

                                            >One spank after another was delivered to her reddening backside. Now every hit was causing her to gasp out in pain. She was roughly two dozen hits in, mere minutes into what was promised to be a three hour session. And already the cracks were starting to show.

                                            >*Thwack*

                                            >Another particularly hard one caused tears to well up in her eyes.

                                            >“FUCKING STOP!!!!”


                                            >Vinyl’s yelling reached grew loud by the time the fiftieth hit was nearing. Her asscheeks were now a vibrant, bright red, which stood out harshly on an otherwise white flank. Mags didn’t seem to care though, and the hits kept coming. The bitch really didn’t care.

                                            >All the unicorn could dwell on was the severe pain coursing through her backside. Time skewed as fifty hits started to near closer to a hundred. The mare was now sweat-wicked all over from the sheer strain of coping with the dull, aching pain. Drool leaked from between her gritted teeth.

                                            >By the hundredth hit, Mags allowed Vinyl a brief moment of respite. She eyed her work, obviously impressed with herself, snickering at the bright-red cheeks.

                                            >“Hah-hah, damn, you really aren’t gonna last the full three hours, are yah?” Mags shrugged. “Don’t really matter. It’s either three hours, or until you pass out. Either way, I have fun and get paid.”

                                            >Vinyl sucked in a hard gasp of air, her first real breath in quite some time. Her eyes were still teary, and she was snarling heavily.

                                            >“Y-you fucking f-f-freak…”

                                            >The dragoness snickered.

                                            >“Go on, pony. Gimme a reason to make this work. Oh wait. I don’t need one. Breaks over, bitch.”

                                            >Another paddle spank was delivered right to her sorest, reddest spot, Vinyl shouting out in pained frustration.

                                            >From her bag, Mags had chosen her next implement. Vinyl couldn’t see what it was, but the way it swished and cut through the air when swung didn’t ease the fear in her gut.

                                            >“Time for a caning then, I reckon.”