Of Rebels And Ravishment [NSFW]


                                            >You snap your fingers.

                                            "Slave, I require one of our prisoners."

                                            >The flap of your command tent is pulled open.

                                            >Walking through is yet another faceless stallion, enslaved by one of King Sombra's diabolical helms.

                                            >He does not say a word, as is the standard for those whose minds are shackled to the dark king's will.

                                            >And, by extension, the will of his executor.

                                            >You, Anonymous.

                                            "You will bring the mare in this photograph before me. She will have been part of the captives from the conquest of Ponyville. Go. Now."

                                            >The slave does not acknowledge the reception of the order, simply turning and leaving instead.

                                            >The lack of communication on the part of the slaves makes it ever so difficult to handle them sometimes.

                                            >Absolute obedience, sadly, comes with many more caveats than your king had deigned to inform you of.

                                            >You regard the photograph in your hand with no small amount of yearning.

                                            >To think that the most vital component of the defence of Ponyville was not a pony, but a zebra.

                                            >A lovely specimen of the illusive race by the name of Zecora.

                                            >She had been remarkably successful at waging guerrilla warfare against your invading forces.

                                            >The conquest of Ponyville should have been an easy affair, taking only a few days at most, but she had extended it into a siege that took nearly a month.

                                            >Oh, you weren't upset by that, not by any means.

                                            >You rather enjoyed the challenge she offered you.

                                            >But in the end, your forces overcame her resistance, as they always do.

                                            >> ding-ding

                                            "Enter."

                                            >The tent flap reopens, revealing the same slave from before leading a downtrodden and filthy Zecora inside.

                                            >Her golden jewellery had been removed, as was customary for prisoners, replaced by a collar studded with red gemstones and a separate, standard issue metal muzzle.

                                            >A leash had been clipped to the collar, which the slave used to lead her inside.

                                            >Judging from her lack of resistance, she must have already run afoul of the pain enchantments infused in the collar to prevent any resistance.

                                            >They would not be necessary for much longer.

                                            "Thank you, slave. Anchor her, then leave us."

                                            >The slave complies, clipping the lead to the anchoring post staked deep into the ground.

                                            >It's only after the slave departs that Zecora finally takes notice of you, the faraway look in her eyes refocusing on you in reflexive surprise.

                                            "Miss Zecora, leader of the Ponyville resistance. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

                                            >She tries to say something, but the muzzle prohibits her speech.

                                            >Even just that little bit of her voice sounded so very delightful.

                                            >A small smile traces it's way across your lips.

                                            >How you long to hear that voice of hers in full, complete with customary rhyme.

                                            >She will be perfect for you, you can already tell.

                                            "We have much to discuss about your future, miss Zecora. But there are a few things to take care of before our talk can begin."

                                            >You snap your fingers again.

                                            "Slaves! Bring the prisoner to my washing area."

                                            >Three different slaves filter in after a few moments of rustling outside, unclipping her lead from the anchor and shuffling her towards the living space of your command tent.

                                            >You rise from your desk, stretching and popping your joints with a light groan once you rise to your full measure.

                                            >Zecora had been keeping her eye on you the whole time, and the poor mare was quite taken aback upon seeing your full height.

                                            >One might even say she was quite intimidated by you.

                                            >Regardless, she is led to your wash area without trouble, and you follow along just behind her and the slaves with a folding chair in hand.

                                            >The wash area was much less of a bathroom than it was several curtains staked into the ground to provide privacy, the largest object it encircled being your bath tub.

                                            >The tub itself was more akin to a squat and very wide wooden barrel, but it was perfectly adequate for an executor on the move.

                                            "Good. Now, wash her."

                                            >The slaves comply, jerking a surprised and now quite flustered Zecora into the tub.

                                            >One slave takes hold of your personal everfull ewer and pours it's endless contents into the tub, filling it with fresh, cool water.

                                            >Another slave takes a trio of warming stones from the small chest near the ewer, activating them with a flash of their magic and setting them into the basin as well, the water already beginning to steam from where they were immersed.

                                            >Finally, the third and final slave prepares the soap, brushes, sponges, and other items for all three of them to use.

                                            >Once the bath was ready, they take their cleaning instruments and get to work.

                                            >You had since seated yourself across from them on the chair you had brought, watching them do their work.

                                            >Judging from the muffled complaints, the blush on her face, and the glare she was giving you, she wasn't taking very kindly to being watched.

                                            >Unfortunately for her, it does not matter what her thoughts are on this subject.

                                            >She eventually screws her eyes shut, silently begging for this to all be over with.

                                            >Your eyes trace along the curvatures of her beautiful body, drinking her form in without reservation.

                                            >The photographs did not do her justice.

                                            >Even by the high standards of the already attractive members of the pony race, Zecora stood out as an especially ravishing specimen.

                                            >The pleasing, tasteful patterns of the stripes upon her coat.

                                            >Her toned and fit body, with more pronounced and salacious curvature than her Equestrian cousins.

                                            >And those hips...

                                            >You have no shame in admitting that she was wildly attractive, and you were not at all afraid to appreciate it.

                                            >Right now, that appreciation was only with your eyes.

                                            >By the time you were finished with your "discussion", you would be using so much more than that.

                                            >You stand up, picking the chair up as you go.

                                            "Once she is dry, tie her to the bench I will place in front of my desk. Then you may leave."

                                            >And with that, you leave the privacy of the washing area, setting down the folding chair and picking up a small wooden bench.

                                            >After setting it down perpendicular to your desk, you once again seat yourself behind said desk.

                                            >Planning further ahead, you procure your metronome from the middle desk drawer, setting it in front of you and directly between where Zecora would be secured.

                                            >A quick flick of your finger puts the device into motion.

                                            >Tick-tock-tick-tock.

                                            >An even sixty beats per minute.

                                            >Perfect for keeping track of the time.

                                            >And that is precisely what you do, counting the seconds to Zecora's arrival.

                                            >One hundred and forty seven seconds pass before she is brought before you.

                                            >She looks much better now.

                                            >Only...

                                            "Wait. Remove her muzzle once she has been secured."

                                            >Of course, that was the one thing that was still amiss.

                                            >Tick-tock-tick-tock.

                                            >Curses, you were so used to seeing them on other ponies not yet enslaved by the helms.

                                            >Well, anyways.

                                            >The defenceless mare is bound to the bench with rope, her belly pressed against it's surface while the ropes binding her fetlocks together are tied underneath the seat, preventing all escape attempts.

                                            >It was for her own protection more than anything.

                                            >Better this than having her endure the collar's agony for making an escape attempt.

                                            >Once she had been bound to your satisfaction, the slaves remove her muzzle and clear out of the tent.

                                            >Hiding such a beautiful face beneath such a garish restraint ought to be illegal.

                                            >A small smile draws across your lips, even as her own lips set into a scowl.

                                            >Tick-tock-tick-tock.

                                            "It is so good to finally meet you, miss Zecora. I am executor Anonymous, here on behalf of his majesty King Sombra."

                                            >"Executor, you say? That tells me much. So the battles of Ponyville all bear your touch?"

                                            >You were looking forward to hearing her rhyme first-hand, and you were not disappointed.

                                            >Her voice was every bit as lovely as you had imagined.

                                            >Tick-tock-tick-tock.

                                            "That is correct, madam. It has been my forces that you have skirmished with all this time. And I must congratulate you, first and foremost, for putting up such a brilliant fight."

                                            >"Congratulate me? Have you no shame? Do you think of our lives as but pieces in a game?"

                                            "Oh? Do you not? What is strategy if not a game of life and death?"

                                            >"I do not care to debate, so kindly cease. Now get this over with and say your piece."

                                            >She's fiery.

                                            >You would be lying if you said her thorns were not working to entice you more and more.

                                            >Tick-tock-tick-tock.

                                            "As you wish."

                                            >You reach down into the lower left desk drawer, pulling free one of the king's mind control helms.

                                            >Zecora's eyes widen even before you set it down onto the desk, just behind the metronome.

                                            "I will start with the obvious, then. Your life as you once knew it, and the lives of your compatriots, are now over, never to return."

                                            >Zecora tries her best to hide her fear of the helm.

                                            >It's a fear that is not without foundation.

                                            >Tick-tock-tick-tock.

                                            "As we speak, the other captives are being fitted with these helms. They will serve as our loyal warriors in the fight against the princesses of Equestria."

                                            >Your fingers drum along the metal of the helm as you speak.

                                            "You are to be no different, miss Zecora. Tell me, do you know what this helm does to the ponies who wear it?"

                                            >"I know enough! Their minds are snuffed!"

                                            >You turn the helm around, showing the inside off to her.

                                            >Tick-tock-tick-tock.

                                            "Notice the small red nubs dotting the interior. They are of the same make as your collar's gems. They exist to bring pain to the wearer.

                                            >"Why do you tell me this--

                                            "Shush."

                                            >She glares at you briefly before looking back at the helm.

                                            >Too early to tell if it's working or not.

                                            >Tick-tock-tick-tock.

                                            "Further within, between the eyes, you can see the larger green gem, yes? That is what subverts control of the wearer's body."

                                            >She continues to listen, despite her obvious fear of the device.

                                            >A fear only worsened by your continuing explanation of how it works.

                                            >Tick-tock-tick-tock.

                                            "These two elements work in tandem with one another, you see. The red nubs cause incredible pain, lowering the mind's defences."

                                            >Zecora blinks, refocusing her eyes.

                                            "The green gem threads tendrils of magic in through the eyes, towards the brain. Once there, the tendrils stretch across and caress every single fold and crease of the wearer's mind."

                                            >A bead of sweat rolls down her brow.

                                            >Tick-tock-tick-tock.

                                            "Once it is completely covered, the magic forces it's way inside all at once, a veritable blitzkrieg of control magic. The process takes only seconds to complete."

                                            >Her breathing was becoming laboured.

                                            "When the mind's defences have fallen at last, the wearer's conscious thoughts are shackled away. The helm takes over all upper thought from then on out."

                                            >Her eyes were becoming more and more unfocused.

                                            >Tick-tock-tick-tock.

                                            "And from that moment forwards, the victim is naught but a mindless puppet on strings, ready to do the bidding of the king. And, by extension, me."

                                            >You sigh, failing to hide the disappointment in your voice as you set the helm down off to the side on your desk.

                                            >Zecora's beautiful yet increasingly vacant eyes do not follow it.

                                            "It's a marvel of magical engineering, a testament to my king's genius. And yet, I dislike it. Rather strongly, in point of fact. Do you know why that is?"

                                            >"What i-is it about this device, that causes you to th-- nngh, think twice?"

                                            >Seems she's slowly becoming aware of what's happening to her.

                                            >Of course, it's much too late for her to resist now.

                                            >Tick-tock-tick-tock.

                                            "You see, as a direct consequence of shackling away all conscious thought, the wearer is never aware of their time wearing the helm. Ergo, they do not remember anything they have done while under it's control."

                                            >You open the upper right drawer of your desk.

                                            >The wrapped gift box was still there, waiting and ready for this moment.

                                            "This is not normally an issue, my dear Zecora. Indeed, it can be viewed as an advantage of sorts! That is, until you account for what is done to the slaves outside of a military setting."

                                            >Box in hand, you rise from your desk once again.

                                            >Her eyes do not follow you.

                                            "More specifically, when you account for what is done in an intimate setting."

                                            >Slowly, in absolutely no rush, you walk around your desk and towards the panting, shuddering mare.

                                            >Her eyes remained locked on the metronome on your desk, continuing to lull her deeper and deeper into a trance.

                                            >The gemstone tipped needle of the device was for much more than just show.

                                            >Tick-tock-tick-tock.

                                            >"Wh-what have you... d-done to... me?"

                                            >Without acknowledging her question, you continue to circle around until you are behind her.

                                            >She is unable to move her eyes to follow you, much less her head.

                                            >You seat yourself directly behind her on the bench, straddling the surface.

                                            "Are you uncomfortable? Please, allow me."

                                            >Slowly and gingerly, you begin to untie the ropes binding her to the bench.

                                            >Such a challenge it is, restraining yourself from touching her too much.

                                            >Even knowing that it would make the prize all the more worthwhile.

                                            >Before long, she is fully unbound and free to move once again.

                                            >You, however, go a step further.

                                            >The collar wrapped around her neck, another one of your king's designs, can only be removed with the correct command spell.

                                            >A spell that you, of course, already knew of.

                                            >> click

                                            >The cruel device clatters to the bench, bouncing off of the surface and rolling out along the ground, quite out of immediate reach.

                                            >The poor girl tries her best to capitalize on the situation, making an attempt to move.

                                            >Her limbs, however, do not obey her.

                                            >Panic begins to grip her as the best she can manage is slow, trembling movements of only a few centimetres at a time.

                                            "Stand up."

                                            >Her entire body goes rigid as it obeys your order instantaneously.

                                            >Wonderful.

                                            "Good girl. Now, sit down."

                                            >A small whimper of fear escapes her as her body betrays her, moving without effort at your behest instead of hers.

                                            "Slide backwards until your body meets mine, miss Zecora."

                                            >Her body complies without hesitation.

                                            >Once her lower back nestles against your belly, you wrap both of your hands around her upper barrel, gently pulling her backwards.

                                            "Lean backwards just a bit more, my dear."

                                            >With that, all of her back is making contact with your front, her head coming up just short of your own.

                                            "Thank you. At ease."

                                            >A loud, shuddering gasp wheezes from her mouth as the tight tension in her muscles loosen back to normal.

                                            >Taking care not to allow your hands to wander, at least not yet, you reach back with one of them to take the gift box.

                                            "Now, returning to the subject at hand..."

                                            >"S-sssstop..."

                                            >You smile at the objection, briefly pressing your nose to the back of her head.

                                            >You whisper softly into her ear.

                                            "No chance, my dear."

                                            >You pull back after taking a small parting sniff, a shiver running through her from head to tail.

                                            >Her fresh, heady scent was a complex and intoxicating mixture of so many things.

                                            >Things you will have plenty of time to determine once she is yours.

                                            "As I was saying, my king's helms lock away the true selves of their wearers, putting only a crude, artificial intelligence in charge of their decision making and bodily motions."

                                            >You set the gift box down in front of her, just between her hindlegs.

                                            "There is just no way for their true selves to truly experience what is being done to them. And nowhere is that more apparent than with the ultimate fates of your friends in the Elements of Harmony."

                                            >Her breath hitches upon the mention of her friends.

                                            >With one hand wrapped around her barrel, holding her securely in place, you allow the other one to slide it's way along her wonderfully warm, soft coat and up across her neck.

                                            "They are still alive, no need to worry about that. They were very strong, you know. It took upwards of two minutes for the helms to finally break them. That is no easy feat, I assure you!"

                                            >The hand finally reaches her head, gently trailing up and across her throat.

                                            "However, my lord has seen fit to make these paragons of virtue so much more useful than as simple foot soldiers. Yes, he has taken them to his bedchambers. Not as mere objects in his harem, mind you. No, they have the prestigious honour of serving as his concubines."

                                            >Your fingers trace along her jawline, enhancing the sharp gasp your words drew out of the shivering mare.

                                            "And as of last spring, I am very happy to report that his first efforts with them have borne fruit. Our dark kingdom now expects seven strapping new heirs to the throne in the coming months."

                                            >A wistful sigh leaves your lips as your hand caresses her cheek.

                                            >Your head moves towards her ear, your words coming out in a breathy whisper.

                                            "Now, do you see that box before you, my dear? Go ahead and open it for me."

                                            >Her forelegs obey, reaching down past your other arm and picking the small box up.

                                            >The top smoothly lifts off, revealing the contents.

                                            >A small set of specially crafted items of your own design lay within:

                                            >A pair of oval, over-the-head earphones, made of metal and with large, opaque yellow crystals jutting from both ends of the cans, the inner ones carved in a specific design that allows them to safely thread into the ear canal,

                                            >And a pair of large goggles, fashioned from the same opaque yellow crystal and designed to clip into the earphones.

                                            "And yet, your friends are not even aware of the miracle of life they have been party to. They will never be present for the birth, naming, and tne nurture of their own children."

                                            >The hand on her head reaches down to pick up the earphones.

                                            "Perhaps this is a pet conceit of mine, dear Zecora. But I have always found motherhood to be as sacred as it is alluring. So you understand, then, why his choice of control over them infuriates me so?"

                                            >She knows exactly where you are going with this, both your talk of motherhood and your talk of control.

                                            >Her struggling begins anew, but sadly for her, she is far too deep into the metronome's trance to offer more than a strong tremble where outright thrashing would normally be.

                                            "But I cannot alter his decisions, my sweet. I can only make my own. Now, hold still please."

                                            >The first earphone slides into her ear without issue, prompting Zecora to let loose a strangled cry of terror as you move the second one into place with your one hand.

                                            "I'm afraid I have a confession to make, Zecora. The prime motivator for your selection as the first of my concubines is that of simple, utilitarian need."

                                            >You reach back into the box, taking the goggles next.

                                            "Granted, you are a mare of exceptional beauty, in both body and mind. Something that I believe you have not been given appropriate credit for by your peers. Even without your talents, you would have always had a place with me as a devoted concubine."

                                            >"S-stop... P-please..."

                                            "But I need you, my sweet. I need your talents in alchemy to resolve the one roadblock I have with taking my own concubines."

                                            >The goggles are brought to her face, the first stem clicking into place inside of it's matching earphone.

                                            "You see, I cannot impregnate any mares. The issue is not virility, thankfully. Rather, the issue is compatibility. And I know that you hold the key to overcoming that obstacle."

                                            >Tears were beginning to stream down her face as the second stem clicked into place.

                                            "But rest assured, I will treat you very well under my care, miss Zecora. With all the care and respect that the future mother of my numerous children is entitled to. You deserve at least that much."

                                            >Both of your hands come up, pressing against her temples.

                                            "Now, the device you wear is going to alter your mind, miss Zecora. It is similar in principle to the helm I described to you before. Fear not though, there is no mechanism to cause you pain in this design."

                                            >Your head comes forward, your cheek nuzzling against the crook of her neck.

                                            "When I activate it, it will implant within you absolute loyalty and devotion to me. You will feel great pleasure and satisfaction from doing my bidding, from obeying my every command."

                                            >You plant a slow, tender kiss to that same crook.

                                            "The process will be slow, but it will also be quite pleasurable for you. It will be as if your will itself is being slowly submerged into a warm bath, and expertly massaged by the most tender of hands until, at last, it gives in to me."

                                            >Finally, you whisper the next part into her ear.

                                            "And unlike the helm, the effects of this device are quite permanent, my love."

                                            >One final rhyme leaves her, the last she will utter of her own free will.

                                            >"P-please, good sir, y-you do not h-have to do this! I-I beg of you, do not plunge my mind into the abyss!"

                                            >Poor girl, that must have taken all of her remaining control over her body.

                                            >That alone is deserving of a response, surely?

                                            "Have you not been listening, my sweet? Your mind will still be there. It is only your will that needs to be altered to my needs."

                                            >You plant another kiss on her neck.

                                            "I am going to begin now, my dear Zecora."

                                            >"No...!"

                                            "There, there. The process will be pleasing, rest assured."

                                            >Your head pulls back, and you steady the two fingers pressed against both of her temples.

                                            "It's all right, just relax. I have you. Ready?"

                                            >A sob chokes it's way out of her throat.

                                            "Three."

                                            >"S-stop...!"

                                            "Two."

                                            >"I-I do not want this!"

                                            "You will, my sweet. You will."

                                            >"No..."

                                            "One."

                                            >"NOOO--!"

                                            >Her final cry dies in her throat as the device activates.

                                            >A strong warm glow emanates from deep within the yellow crystals, and the goggles adopt something of a spiral pattern to them.

                                            >Strangled grunts and groans escape her throat as she feels the effects upon her mind, her muscles tensing at first before slowly relaxing.

                                            >She tries to close her eyes, to shake her head, to do anything to deny your influence.

                                            >Her body does not comply, of course.

                                            >"No... It... Ngh..."

                                            >Her voice is so soft now, so relaxed.

                                            >She begins to tremble anew as the last few bits of her free will give their last stand.

                                            >Zecora grunts, hisses, and pants for quite a while before her sounds of resistance give way to groans, sighs, and a very different kind of panting.

                                            "There, you see? It's quite nice, isn't it?"

                                            >"N... y-yes..."

                                            "Why thank you for saying so, my love. Only the best will do for my concubines."

                                            >Her breathing, while still on the heavy side, comes much steadier now.

                                            >Her muscles relax much more as the metronome's influence is overridden by the goggles.

                                            "From the moment I saw your photograph cross my desk, I have found myself enchanted by your unique beauty. Even before knowing your talents, I have wanted you by my side."

                                            >You kiss the back of her neck, drawing a long, low moan from your concubine in training.

                                            "I understand that you have lived most of your life alone, my dear. Is that true?"

                                            >"Ngh... y-yes, my mas-- a-aaah..."

                                            >The goggles have sufficient power to finish the process without you fuelling them now.

                                            >Your fingers leave her temples with a small crackle of magical energy.

                                            >Cupping her cheek, you gently turn her head towards you, leaning across her the rest of the way.

                                            "I know that pain too well, my sweet. Rest assured, you will never be alone again."

                                            >Your nose presses against her snout.

                                            "From now until the end of your days, I will endeavour to make you the happiest mare in the world."

                                            >And with that, you seal her fate with a full, proper kiss.

                                            >One final, protracted moan escapes her as the crystals of your device flash brightly.

                                            >You break the kiss with a smile, sweeping the empty box off the bench and gently laying her now-slackened body down across it's surface.

                                            >That allows you to sit up and change your seating position, this time to be directly in front of her.

                                            >Her eyes were shut, and she was snoring gently.

                                            >You never could figure out why the device made them fall asleep once it finished.

                                            >But it's hardly a major issue.

                                            >Slowly and gingerly, you remove the goggles from their attachment points, setting them aside as you gently pull the earphones off of her head.

                                            >Zecora stirs as you finish removing the device, her lovely teal eyes finding their way towards you.

                                            >Only this time, they held nothing but utter devotion to you, and you could almost swear that the faint shapes of hearts were dancing inside of those eyes of hers.

                                            >You give her a smile.

                                            "Sleep well, my dear?"

                                            >Her voice was perfectly smooth and composed, full of nothing but warmth and love for you.

                                            >"My dreams were nothing but pleasant, my Master."

                                            >She sits up to her full height with a smile of her own.

                                            >"I only wish I had given in faster."

                                            "Oh, that's quite all right, my dear."

                                            >Your hand extends out to her head, giving the freshly reborn mare some sorely needed petting.

                                            "Better late than never, wouldn't you say?"

                                            >It does not take long for the gentle petting to transition into kissing.

                                            >Her hooves rest on your shoulders, one of your hands caressing the small of her back while the other holds the back of her head.

                                            >Every part of the experience is absolutely incredible, fulfilling many of those crucial needs that could not be fulfilled by the usual slaves.

                                            >The taste of her mouth alone was excellent, at once much more "natural" and musky than that of a pony, while also keeping the pleasing flavours that ponies all had, much to your delight.

                                            >In her case, it was the faint taste of mango.

                                            >Matching the experience was the scent of her body, continuing her mouth's theme of natural musk and the scent of mango while also melding with the scent of the expensive soap she had just used, as well as that distinctive, implacable "feminine" scent.

                                            >While this brief taste of your future with her was delectable, continuing it was better left to the bed, you think.

                                            >And besides, you still had the matter of business to attend to.

                                            >You break the kiss, a thin trail of spittle connecting your lips for a brief moment before breaking.

                                            >It was easy to tell that she was disappointed that it had already come to an end, though she did not give voice to those feelings.

                                            "Now that everything is as it should be..."

                                            >The hand holding her head shifts to stroke her cheek.

                                            "I have need of your special gifts, Zecora."

                                            >She nods happily, eager to serve.

                                            >"Of course, my good Master. Whatever you need! Shall I address the matter of your seed?"

                                            "Good girl, you remembered."

                                            >The compliment brings a blush to her face.

                                            >"My Master's needs I could never forget! I will see them fulfilled through blood and sweat!"

                                            "Very good. Now, tell me precisely what you need to begin."

                                            >She nods her head excitedly, so happy to be doing your bidding.

                                            >It was incredible how total the change you had made to her was.

                                            >You suppose the gravity of it all had not set in through just your experiments to create the device.

                                            >In the end, it took a true test of your work to fully grasp what it was you had wrought.

                                            >And what a glorious thing you had wrought, indeed.

                                            >Zecora wastes no time in listing off the tools and ingredients she would need.

                                            >Though you have to stop her for a brief moment, summoning a slave to perform the task of recording the list of required items.

                                            >When you have served as executor for this long, you quickly learn the utility of ordering the slaves to handle such menial tasks.

                                            >Though in fairness, this task was anything but menial.

                                            >Well, you suppose old habits die hard.

                                            >Interestingly, most of the consumable materials required were quite rare and only found beyond Equestria.

                                            >But Zecora was all too happy to tell you that she kept a supply of these rare plants at her old home within the Everfree Forest, even going as far as to cultivate some of them from seedlings.

                                            >What an industrious lass she is.

                                            >You would need to remind yourself to have botanical greenhouses prepared, just so she may continue her craft.

                                            >It would doubtless have many uses beyond just allowing her to bear your children.

                                            >A snap of your fingers later, and a quartet of slaves are summoned with orders to take everything from her old home and deliver it to your command tent.

                                            >But given the distance between here and the Everfree, that would yet take a few hours.

                                            >That was around the time that Zecora asked about the next ingredient she required.

                                            >"The final ingredient that the draught will need, is a fresh sample of the father's seed."

                                            >Ah, already doing her best to live up to the expectations of her station, is she?

                                            >Well, it's certainly having an effect on you.

                                            "I see. That task, my dear, I will leave in your capable..."

                                            >No, not hooves.

                                            >You've a much better idea than that.

                                            "...mouth."

                                            >She perks right up upon grasping the meaning of your statement.

                                            >"Oh Master, I would love to give you such service! S-so long as the prospect does not make you nervous..."

                                            "Oh, I could never be nervous around you, my sweet."

                                            >Well, you think it's about time you got around to consummating this new role of hers.

                                            >Given that you haven't availed yourself of any slaves since the Ponyville assault, you were more than capable of playing the long game with her tonight.

                                            >Your hand grasps and squeezes her thigh.

                                            "In fact, I think I will have you render me some service right now."

                                            >She is only too happy to oblige you, though a bit too quick to act upon that happiness.

                                            >Her first move is to press her snout up against your crotch, taking a deep breath through her nose and letting out a shuddering sigh.

                                            >That's as far as she gets before you firmly pull her head back, tutting as she looks up at you with surprise and dejection.

                                            "Ah-ah. I wasn't finished speaking, my dear."

                                            >Her lip quivers, and she looks about ready to cry.

                                            >"P-please, my Master, forgive my insolence! I did not mean to disob--"

                                            >A quick press of your fingers to her mouth shushes her.

                                            "Shhhhhh. Shh-shh-shh. I am not mad. But be more mindful in the future, love."

                                            >She perks back up, nodding her head with a watery-eyed smile.

                                            >"Of course, of course! I live to serve! I-I shall endeavour to listen and better observe!"

                                            "Good girl."

                                            >Ah, how she loves to be called that.

                                            >A small, happy hiccup escapes her as she lightly groans in delight at hearing the phrase, her pupils dilating all the while.

                                            >The programming is performing it's functions perfectly so far.

                                            >You were going to greatly enjoy evaluating the rest of it.

                                            "Now get up."

                                            >You motion your head to the living area.

                                            "There's a perfectly good bed for us to use."

                                            >She practically leaps off of the bench, waiting for you to simply sit up.

                                            >Zecora was never out of reach as you walked, nuzzling your side as you walked over towards your lovely king-sized poster bed.

                                            >A custom-made thing, made almost entirely of strong walnut from foot to backboard.

                                            >Drapes of the finest green linens with ogee patterning hung from the three openings, the same style used on the rest of the bedding.

                                            >And of course, the cloud-stuffed mattress and pillows, created by slave labourers from Cloudsdale after you and your king had taken the city.

                                            >By all accounts, it was a marvellous thing.

                                            >This particular model was made to be more portable, and you always made a point to have the other versions of this bed at your permanent residences built to a higher standard.

                                            >But this was more than sufficient for your needs.

                                            >And you had many, many unrequited needs that demanded satisfaction.

                                            >She looks to you first, silently asking for permission to get onto the bed.

                                            >You grant it with a small nod and a thin smile as your hands begin to remove your belt.

                                            >With a large, gleeful smile, she bounds up onto the bed, turning around to watch you undress.

                                            >You stop at the foot of the bed, your crotch at eye level with your soon to be partner.

                                            >The belt is pulled free of it's captive loops in one smooth motion, your trousers sliding down your legs and crumpling in a pile at your feet.

                                            >You unbutton your shirt next, but that is all you do, allowing it to naturally part open to allow better access to the slowly growing bulge contained by your underwear.

                                            >And Zecora's gleeful staring had changed the moment she saw that.

                                            >She was gaping at it with undisguised desire, her tail flicking behind her and the distinctive scent of her arousal beginning to permeate the air.

                                            >It matched her natural scent, only with a much stronger hint of mango and the telltale hormonal notes of an aroused mare, the latter scent notably different than her equestrian cousins yet no less alluring to take in.

                                            "Now, then."

                                            >Swallowing dry, her eyes briefly flick up to look into yours.

                                            >Those faint shapes of hearts in them before were no longer faint in the slightest.

                                            >And they asked - begged - for silent permission to service you.

                                            >Another thin smile passes across your lips.

                                            "You should be able to manage from here."

                                            >Overjoyed, Zecora wastes no time.

                                            >Her first action is to yet again press her muzzle directly against your covered manhood, taking a deep, long, and almost desperate sniff.

                                            >The air she sucked in through her nose came back out of her mouth as a throaty, shuddering mix between a moan and a sigh, the direct contact of her muzzle allowing the deeper bass component of her voice to reverberate through your groin.

                                            >She continues to nuzzle you, taking in as much of the scent as she possibly can.

                                            >Your erection had quickly stirred to most of it's full measure under her care, the garment covering them no longer effective in concealing it.

                                            >Still, she did not make to remove it at first, trailing her muzzle along it's now well-defined shape and planting small kisses onto it as she went.

                                            >Then, with one parting lick to the covered yet visibly swollen head, she used her teeth to tug the covering down and away, allowing your genitals to finally spring free.

                                            >She regards your manhood with no small amount of delight, giving the slightly leaky head a slow, tender kiss before moving on with her work.

                                            >You, on the other hand, regard her with no small amount of surprise as a short, involuntary groan leaves your throat in response to her tongue lolling out and dragging along the bottom of your penis.

                                            >This went far beyond your expectations.

                                            >Even knowing she would be capable of this kind of service, you had expected a sloppy, amateurish treatment, requiring your advice and direction to get her skills to where you wanted them.

                                            >And as she continues her excellent, skillful service to you, a part of you wonders where, precisely, she had learned to do this.

                                            >She extracts another groan from you as her tongue presses against your frenulum, the tip tracing small, wet circles around the sensitive spot while her hot, damp breath blankets your glans in moist, tingling delight.

                                            >With that, you quickly decide that you do not care to know the answer to that question.

                                            >Right now, your desire - nay, your demand - was for her to continue.

                                            >Zecora's tongue lavished every square centimetre of your cock's surface with slow yet deliberate motions, always angling the flexible muscle to press as flat as it can and cover as much surface in a single motion as possible.

                                            >Frequently, she would draw it back into her mouth for a split second to wet it once again, doing her best to ensure that none of those several square centimetre of surface area under her care ever went dry.

                                            >Every now and then, she would kiss your increasingly leaky glans, swirling her tongue around the tip and applying a small amount of suction as she pulled away, a light smack ringing out as she broke the kiss.

                                            >The experience was nothing short of incredible.

                                            >Your breathing, already laboured by the time she had begun in full, had become more and more ragged, a thin sheen of sweat beginning to form across your skin in turn.

                                            >Her eyes dart up to meet yours, her pleasure and adoration mixed with no small amount of anxiety.

                                            >The smile you flash her is more toothy than usual.

                                            "Good girl."

                                            >And just like that, the anxiety vanishes, replaced with joy.

                                            >She plants one more kiss onto your tip, only this time she does not resume her tongue bathing.

                                            >Her mouth opens with the clear intent to allow you passage, Zecora flattening her tongue against the bottom of your now actively throbbing penis like a lewd, fleshy red carpet for it's entry.

                                            >As the head pops into her mouth, she closes her lips around you, creating some suction as she slowly works to take the rest of you into her maw.

                                            >Until finally, her muzzle connects with your groin, a pleased giggle leaving her and reverberating through your member as you groan with pleasure of your own.

                                            >Maintaining constant, even suction wherever it was possible, she slowly began to move in earnest.

                                            >Her tongue, far from remaining idle as she allowed her mouth to do it's work, continued to lash and slather itself all across your member.

                                            >Extra attention was paid to the underside of your penis by virtue of her tongue's positioning, and perhaps sensing this and wanting to make up for it, she paid extra attention to your ever-sensitive frenulum, especially whenever she drew back.

                                            >The sensation was indescribable; her tongue work before was incredible, but this was something else entirely.

                                            >Only now do you become dimly aware of just what kind of state she has put you in, as she brings your pleasure very close to it's final crescendo.

                                            >Your teeth, gritting together;

                                            >Your breathing, heavy and ragged, sucked in through your nose and hissing out between your teeth;

                                            >Your skin and limbs, shaking and covered in sweat;

                                            >Your vision, beginning to tunnel;

                                            >And your voice, openly groaning with every motion of her head.

                                            >Further complimenting the deeply erotic display was, of course, Zecora herself, humming and giggling as she looks up at you the entire time, entirely proud of what she's done for you.

                                            >And she has every reason to be.

                                            >She increases her pace after a few very long minutes, taking you even deeper into her throat all the while;

                                            >Deep enough for your glans to hit the back of her throat, in fact.

                                            >She makes a small gulping noise whenever this happens, but otherwise shows no signs of the contact affecting her ability to please you.

                                            >But with her greater pace also comes a faster climax, and you can feel the ever-familiar building pressure soaring ever closer, much faster than you would prefer.

                                            >Her hitting a particularly sensitive spot was the final straw for your self-control.

                                            >She manages to complete only nine motions before your hands come out and seize her head, pulling it forward and sheathing yourself into her maw with more force than was necessary.

                                            >Low, nearly animalistic groans escape from your throat as you grit your teeth together, your glans pulsing against the roof of her throat as the sensation of her mouth threatens both your conscious grasp of the situation and a premature release.

                                            >Sweat drips down your body and your breathing becomes ever harder as you try to calm yourself, your primal instincts to utterly dominate her waging war with your impeccable control over your actions.

                                            >But, as with most wars, a compromise is soon reached.

                                            >With your breathing and sweating under some facsimile of control, you take over the pace of the fellatio, Zecora being more than happy to relinquish her control over the speed and intensity of your mating.

                                            >No, not mating.

                                            >Close, but not quite.

                                            >This was but the appetizer before the actual mating.

                                            >When you would stake your rightful claim on her.

                                            >You hiss through your teeth anew as you intensify your motions, applying more force than speed as you begin to increase the pace at which you violated her mouth.

                                            >You were bottoming out against her lips on every backstroke, your glans kissing the same spot in the back of her throat each time.

                                            >For her part, Zecora continued to press her tongue against the underside of your cock, gathering up as much of her spittle as she could to better lubricate your passage.

                                            >Your control of the motions and her altered priorities, however, meant that her seal around your cock was becoming compromised.

                                            >As a consequence, spit was beginning to bubble and leak out from between her lips, slipping past the already tenuous seal she had around your girth and only becoming worse whenever she moaned with pleasure of her own.

                                            >It splashed against the base of your cock whenever you hilted in her, and you could feel the warm liquid pooling and dripping down your balls, themselves pulling tightly against your body in anticipation of the final act.

                                            >A final act you just passed the point of no return on.

                                            >Your vision begins to tunnel even further as the pleasure overtakes your body, strained moans escaping between your teeth as you begin to jackhammer into her at this last juncture.

                                            >Until, with one final, powerful burial into her maw, it all comes to a head.

                                            >Your eyes screw shut, your mouth creaks open, and your moans become strangled as your climax hits you like a freight train, every muscle vibrating with tension and exertion as you pin your striped companion against you.

                                            >The only way for you to track Zecora during the overwhelming, almost painful orgasm is through her gurgling moans and continued dedication to pleasing you, applying as much suction as possible and pressing her tongue as flat against your cock as she could.

                                            >You are only just barely able to count how many times you cum in her.

                                            >Three, four, five, six, seven...

                                            >Eight blasts of your seed rocket out of your member and splash against the back of her throat.

                                            >She tries her best to swallow the first three ropes as they come, but ultimately cannot keep pace and opts instead to allow whatever does not fire directly down her throat to pool in her mouth instead.

                                            >And as the final blast leaves you and the aftershock of the event begins to set in, you can feel her swishing and sloshing your semen around in her mouth.

                                            >That is all she does with it until finally, with sweat pouring down your brow, you open your eyes to look at her.

                                            >She had been looking at you the entire time, with very defined and now appropriately coloured hearts in her eyes, waiting for you to watch her.

                                            >With one final swirl of her tongue around you, she swallows the remainder of your cum.

                                            >It takes several attempts for her to do so, and you can feel every part of her actions.

                                            >The entire display draws several nearly painful throbs out of you, maintaining your erection for a few more seconds.

                                            >But, eventually, you begin to soften in her hold, coinciding with a fresh wave of exhaustion hitting you.

                                            >You nearly flop over onto the bed, both hands coming out to keep you from collapsing on top of Zecora.

                                            >Zecora releases your member and moves to the side, helping you to get up onto the bed proper.

                                            >And then, when you are laid onto your back, still sweating and panting from the event, her mouth once again makes it's presence known at your cock.

                                            >You are treated to the sight of Zecora giving your member one final tongue bath, cleaning every surface she can and leaving it glistening with her spittle once again.

                                            >She ceases her motions after a while with a small pop and a consummate groan from you, smiling widely down at you once she is done.

                                            >"Tell me, my Master, did I leave you satisfied? Is there more I could do for you, by your side?"

                                            >A few tired yet satisfied chuckles escape your throat before you answer.

                                            "Yes, Zecora. You were most excellent."

                                            >She positively beamed at the praise.

                                            "But I am not through with you yet. Clean yourself up, and get back here right away."

                                            >She nods furiously.

                                            >"Of course, dear Master! Right away! I will not be long, so please stay!"

                                            >With that, she leaps off of the bed and into your wash area, availing herself of your facilities.

                                            >Groaning, you pull yourself up to a sitting position, using some pillows to lay your back against the bed's backboard.

                                            >The few remaining clothes you wore were peeled off of your body, soaked with sweat as they were.

                                            >Until finally, you had left yourself naked and exposed atop your bed, poised in a sitting position to further explore Zecora's body upon her return.

                                            >And what a body it was.

                                            >No, what a mare she was.

                                            >Slaves were part and parcel of your life as executor, and much like your king, that extended to their use as objects of pleasure.

                                            >But once again, those helms muted the experience by a considerable degree.

                                            >Barring the lack of an oral opening, prohibiting you from receiving the kind of service Zecora had just lavished you with, there was also the issues they caused with the use of their exposed and intended orifices.

                                            >Namely, the utter lack of muscle control.

                                            >Having laid with mares before coming into King Sombra's service, you remember all too well what it felt like for them to exercise those unforgettable inner muscles of theirs.

                                            >But with the helms, those same mares were no more lively than an inanimate masturbatory aid.

                                            >A very alive and well-made aid, to be certain, but an aid nevertheless.

                                            >It was difficult for you to even believe that the slaves were capable of so much more than what they offered you!

                                            >However, that is an issue that, as of this moment, you no longer need to contend with.

                                            >For you plan only to relieve your primal urges with your chosen concubines from now on.

                                            >And if Zecora's earlier performance was anything to go by, well...

                                            >You would be lying if you said you were not very excited by what she could now offer you.

                                            >So much more useful than just leading a rebel faction.

                                            >Speaking of Zecora.

                                            >There she was, quickly making her way back onto the bed.

                                            >"I apologize deeply for making you wait. Have you any more needs for me to sate?"

                                            >You smile again.

                                            "Come here."

                                            >She obeys.

                                            >You have to wave her over closer a couple of times, but she stands over you soon enough.

                                            >Close enough for you to kiss her once again.

                                            >Your tongue dances with hers and explores her mouth, the telltale taste of mouthwash mixing with her delectable natural flavour.

                                            >She moans into your mouth, pressing herself against you as much as she could.

                                            >Nothing could quite compare to a lover's kiss.

                                            >Especially one shared with a girl like her, starved of another's touch as she was.

                                            >But you had no intention of simply ending things here.

                                            >A strand of spittle connects between your mouths as you separate, her eyes retaining their heart patterns from before as she gently pants.

                                            "I took your mind with a kiss like that, my dear. Do you remember?"

                                            >"I remember, my Master, how you took control!"

                                            >She nuzzles your nose, her wide smile becoming a bit nervous.

                                            >"D-do you still want me to give you a foal?"

                                            "Of course I do, love. It's why you are here."

                                            >Her tail swishes a few times, and that all too familiar scent of her arousal begins to make itself known again.

                                            >"I-it will be some time before the potion is styled. As it is now, I cannot bear you a child."

                                            >Your hand claps against her luscious rear, earning a small yelp from her.

                                            "And precisely none of that affects your ability to please me, now does it?"

                                            >Her smile loses it's nervous quality at the mere implication of pleasing you further.

                                            >Your head moves back in, kissing your mare once again, though for a much shorter duration this time.

                                            "As lovely as that mouth of yours is, my dear, I think it is high time we finally consummated our new relationship."

                                            >She looks beyond elated at the prospect of mating with you, the beginnings of tears stinging the corners of her eyes at the idea.

                                            >You shush her with a finger before she could speak.

                                            >And then, you recline further against the backboard, your hands coming off of Zecora and clasping themselves behind your head as you relax.

                                            "You will start things off, just as you did before."

                                            >The smile on your face twists into something much more pointed and suggestive.

                                            "If your service is good enough, I may just reward you by taking charge once again."

                                            >That was all the encouragement she needed.

                                            >Stepping backwards and off of you again, she lowers her head down to your half-stiffened penis, coaxing it to it's full length yet again with a few more of those heavenly, downright addictive licks of hers.

                                            >Satisfied with her work, she moves back towards you again for a short distance before seating herself upon your lap, slowly and carefully.

                                            >You hadn't yet explored your mare's undercarriage, so it was very thoughtful of her to put it on display for you like this.

                                            >Her belly, contrary to first appearances, did indeed have some more stripes laid across it's soft, off-white surface, but in thinner patterns than the much wider stripes pulled across her other extremities.

                                            >Zecora's navel was the first thing you noticed, her small outward button surrounded by long, unjoined rings of thin stripes in light spiral patterns.

                                            >And then your eyes were drawn lower, towards her teats.

                                            >The two mounds were of a good size, halfway between the healthy and ample size of an earth pony and the more fatty and rounded size of a unicorn.

                                            >They too were circled by thin patterns of stripes, spiralling out of her areolae at sharp angles and in thin lines before gradually widening out with a much shallower curvature by the time they met the flesh of her underbelly proper.

                                            >You are not at all ashamed to admit that were you not reclining and allowing her to service you again, your hands and face would be buried in every part of her exposed undercarriage.

                                            >Sitting just shy of your manhood, she shuffles herself up your legs bit by bit until it finally connects with the exceptionally soft coat of her underbelly, sandwiched between both of her teats.

                                            >Though you couldn't see her marehood from your present angle, you could certainly feel both it's heat and moisture against your testes.

                                            >A small twinge of regret makes itself known at the missed opportunity to probe and examine her nethers beforehand, to help work both of you up before you copulated with her proper.

                                            >You were certainly finding more and more reasons to take control right here and now, weren't you?

                                            >No, not just yet.

                                            >Let the filly do her work.

                                            >Pressing her forehooves against your chest, she slowly slides herself up along your body further, your cock flattening out against your belly as her marehood slid up and along it's length.

                                            >The heated wetness of her sex was all too apparent now, and you could feel the telltale squelch of her clitoris against your frenulum as she winked against you mid-motion.

                                            >Slowly and carefully, so as to not put her full weight onto your member, she grinds herself against you, her eyes fluttering shut as she stifles some moans of her own through her bitten lip.

                                            >More and more of her natural lubrication seeps out of her confines as she does this, wetting the surfaces of your shaft once again.

                                            >It pools onto your groin for a brief moment before spilling down between your thighs, staining the bed beneath you.

                                            >Not that you minded in the slightest; after all, it had suffered worse at your hands.

                                            >It was her turn for her breathing to become ragged and her composure to crack, her eyes opening back up after a few minutes of her treatment, silently begging you for your input.

                                            >Input you were more than happy to give.

                                            >You adopt another happy little smile.

                                            "Good girl."

                                            >You could have sworn that the hearts in her eyes just throbbed at your words.

                                            >No sooner does that happen, than those beautiful eyes of hers screw shut, her entire body going rigid as a strangled moan escapes her throat.

                                            >When she begins to groan and shiver, coupled with her fluids all but splashing against your tool, it becomes fairly obvious what your words have done to her.

                                            >Smiling wider, your hands pull away from your head and grasp her full, ample hips, gently pulling more of her weight against you.

                                            "That's it. Just let it all out for me."

                                            >She whimpered at your words, her already rapidly winking clitoris popping out at much longer intervals as her body begins to shudder much more prominently.

                                            >Until finally, she can no longer hold herself up, slowly flopping down on top of you.

                                            >All the while, your hands continue to hold onto her hips, stroking and kneading the muscles underneath.

                                            >"I-I am sorry, my Master, I could not help it."

                                            >She sounds like she's on the verge of tears, and not of the happy variety either.

                                            >Sure enough, her head cranes up from your chest to look at you with folded ears and tearing eyes.

                                            >"My body is not accustomed; it is unfit!"

                                            "I don't remember saying I was displeased, Zecora."

                                            >Hope returns to her gaze as your head cranes down, giving her a light peck on the snout.

                                            >It would be so easy to flip her over and take her, to say nothing of how tempting the prospect is.

                                            >But not yet.

                                            >Not before you've seen what she can do.

                                            "Take a minute to recover, then pull yourself back up. You still have yet to fully service me."

                                            >Flopping her head back against your chest, she nods her agreement with a small sniffle.

                                            >She only needs half of the minute you gave her to get her muscles and breathing back under control, and it isn't long before she pushes herself back up, straddling your member once again.

                                            >Your hands come off of her hips and rest at your sides, Zecora swallowing dry as she slides herself backwards until your penis once again stood at it's full measure, nestled between her teats.

                                            >Using that contact as a point of reference, she slowly begins to raise her hips up and off of your body, stopping only when she can no longer feel your penis making contact with her.

                                            >You give your member a few flexes to allow her to better align herself, until finally the tip nestles itself between her lower lips.

                                            >And after shimmying about to get it at the right angle, she slowly sits back down.

                                            >Your tip slips into her confines with barely any effort, slick as it was from her previous efforts, your hands clenching lightly against a handful of fabric as you bite back a groan of your own.

                                            >Neither one of you suppresses your respective groans once she had impaled herself halfway upon you.

                                            >Until finally, your hips connect.

                                            >She moans to match your own groan of pleasure, her insides already rippling and squeezing along it's new guest.

                                            >The fact alone that she retained the muscle control of her nethers made the experience infinitesimally better than using a normal slave.

                                            >And you hadn't even begun to move yet.

                                            >For her part, Zecora's eyes had shut yet again as she worked to get a hold of herself, getting both her breathing and most of her involuntary clenching around you under control.

                                            >But once she did, she looked down at you with an almost dopey smile, overjoyed at the entire situation while the hearts within her eyes almost seemed to beat in time with her pulse.

                                            >Once more, you adopt a smile.

                                            "Good girl."

                                            >Her vaginal muscles immediately clench themselves hard around your cock, barely able to even milk it on account of how rigid they had gone.

                                            >The rest of Zecora did not fare much better, biting back another loud moan and once again screwing her eyes shut as a second orgasm threatened to take her.

                                            >Threatened, that is, but ultimately did not come.

                                            >With a fresh trail of drool leaking down her lip, she looked you in the eyes once again as she braced herself, unclenching her inner muscles.

                                            >Then she began to move.

                                            >She moved slowly at first, pushing herself up only to about half of your full length before slowly sinking back down, her legs trembling with the effort on the downward stroke.

                                            >Her vulvar winking, initially erratic and uncontrolled, soon synchronized to happen every time she hilted you inside of her.

                                            >And the same was true of her muscle contractions, rewarding you with a powerful clench every time she bottomed out.

                                            >She felt every bit as good as the mares you had taken before, the ones who were not slaves.

                                            >No, she felt even better than they ever did.

                                            >You do not know how much of that was due to her programming, or how much was due to her anatomical differences.

                                            >But, like your last question in this vein, you simply do not care to know the answer.

                                            >And once again, your only demand is for her to continue.

                                            >Her pace increases after over a dozen of her slower movements, increasing in lockstep with the length she covered with every stroke.

                                            >A few hilts into her new rhythm saw another change, as well: she pressed herself harder against you with every hilt, gently grinding her hips against you as they slapped against yours before pulling back up to resume her motions.

                                            >The change in pace was having a corresponding effect on Zecora's composure.

                                            >She had begun panting heavily, barely able to keep even one of her eyes open.

                                            >Sweat was running down her body in thin rivulets, with the occasional droplet falling from her muzzle and splashing against your chest.

                                            >And you were not doing much better than her.

                                            >Both of your hands were clasping the sheets as tightly as possible, both the squeeze of your grip and your increasingly ragged moaning hissing through your teeth in tune with her motions.

                                            >Sweat once again precipitated it's way through your pores, and you too found it difficult to keep your eyes open.

                                            >Your climax was soaring ever closer.

                                            >And you could tell hers was as well.

                                            >A particularly heavy backstroke from Zecora was met with your manhood sinking even deeper into her, your swollen glans brushing up against a barrier deep within her.

                                            >Zecora gasped and froze her movements for the briefest of moments, clearly feeling the contact as well.

                                            >There was hardly a need to even guess what that barrier was, but prodding it brought an immediate change to Zecora's movements.

                                            >Her pace picks up dramatically, the zebra almost desperately slamming herself down upon you.

                                            >A loud staccato of yelps escaped her with every one of those motions.

                                            >She was determined to take both of you over the edge at the same time.

                                            >Far be it from you to stop her.

                                            >Your peak rockets ever closer.

                                            >Zecora's loud moaning reaches a fever pitch.

                                            >Her movements continued on and on, until...

                                            >That was it, no turning back now.

                                            >She picks up on your hard throbbing and the changed cadence of your moaning, realizing instantly what was about to happen.

                                            >And with a few more heavy strokes, she buries you deep within her as hard as she possibly could, grinding against you with a desperate zeal.

                                            >You hear her scream as the first jet fires against her innermost barrier, and your senses go blank.

                                            >When you come back to, you are still in the middle of your orgasm, your essence continuing to pump into Zecora's greedy depths.

                                            >But you were no longer laid back against the headboard.

                                            >You found yourself with your arms clenched tightly around Zecora's barrel, your head buried in the crook of her neck with your teeth clenched around a large patch of her soft yet tough hide.

                                            >She was shivering hard against you, her motions coming to a dead stop as the only sound she made was that of her breathing, coming in sharp, rapid whines.

                                            >Even after realizing what you had done, you make no move to stop.

                                            >Why should you?

                                            >She was yours, by all rights.

                                            >You were simply being more thorough with claiming her, body and soul.

                                            >The final few pulses of semen fire up into your mare's belly, and with that, your climax finally comes to a complete, ceremonious end.

                                            >It takes a few seconds for you to stop biting into her hide, fresh air pouring in through the now open orifice and making you keenly aware of just how exhausting this romp really was.

                                            >With exhaustion taking a much stronger hold over you this time, you feel yourself falling backwards onto the bed, taking your stripy concubine with you.

                                            >"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you..."

                                            >She continues to whimper those words into your neck, stopping only once she finally passes out from the exertion.

                                            >And from the newfound weight of your eyelids, you were soon to follow.

                                            >But not before you gingerly stroked her head, muttering one last thing into her ear.

                                            "Good girl."