Broken Incentives - Chapter 8: A Chosen Leash The bedroom is dim, curtains drawn against the morning light. A human wakes with a heavy grunt, kicking the sheets off his naked body. He’s out of shape — soft belly, thick thighs, the kind of build that comes from sitting behind screens and eating whatever the dispensers spit out. But the treatments keep him virile. The government makes sure of that. Fertility and potency above all else. His cock lies soft against his thigh, short when flaccid, but thick enough to stretch when hard. And it’s already stirring. The air is thick with that sweet, cloying scent. Pheromones. Engineered. Addictive. The kind that makes men forget they ever wanted anything else. On the floor beside the bed, bound with black leather ropes that dig into her pale pink coat, is Cadance. Princess of Love. Or what’s left of her. Her wings are folded and tied tight against her back. A black silk blindfold covers her eyes. A metal ring gag keeps her mouth open — drool already slipping down her chin. She wears only a black thong with a convenient slit that leaves her marehood completely exposed. The fabric is soaked. She lost everything in her reality. Her kingdom. Her husband — taken by Sombra in the chaos after Zero-Four. Her title. Her magic — the stump of her horn is all that remains, a clean, deliberate cut from years ago. Now she’s just another incentive. Property. The moment the human’s scent hits her, her body reacts. Marehood winks slowly, lips parting, fresh slick dripping onto the carpet. Even blindfolded, she knows he’s awake. She whimpers around the ring gag, voice soft, broken, dripping with need. “Master… please… use me… fill me with your love…” The human’s face twists in disgust. He sighs — heavy, tired, resigned. Even now, with the world the way it is, women still reject him. Human women pay the fines rather than tie themselves to someone like him. Too average. Too soft. Too… him. That rejection festers into quiet rage. He grabs Cadance by the jaw, forcing her blindfolded face up. His fingers dig into her cheeks. The ring gag keeps her mouth open, tongue lolling helplessly. Without a word he shoves his thickening cock past the metal ring and straight into her throat. Wet, violent sounds fill the room — gagging, slurping, the slap of his hips against her muzzle. He fucks her face with brutal, selfish thrusts, using her like a toy. Cadance doesn’t fight. She moans around him — low, reverent — eyes fluttering behind the blindfold even though she can’t see. She knows the anger, the frustration. She knows it’s aimed at the world, not at her. And she accepts it. She wants it. She sucks harder, tongue working desperately, throat relaxing to take him deeper. Her hips twitch, marehood clenching on nothing, dripping steadily. After long minutes he groans — low, angry — and buries himself to the hilt. Thick ropes of cum flood her throat and mouth. She swallows greedily, reverently, not wasting a drop. Even when he tries to pull out, she sucks harder, keeping him inside a moment longer, milking the last spurts with practiced devotion. The scent in the room grows heavier, sweeter — her own orgasm triggered just from being used. Slick pools beneath her. He finally yanks free with a wet pop. Strings of saliva and cum connect her lips to his cock. Cadance gasps around the ring gag, voice soft, sweet, seductive despite everything. “Please, Master… keep going… fill me… breed me… I’ll always love you… only you…” Her words are slurred, worshipful. Something in him snaps. Fury flashes across his face. He grabs her by the base of her tail, yanking her hindquarters up. The black thong is shoved aside. She’s soaked — dripping, ready, aching. He slams into her in one brutal thrust. Cadance cries out in pleasure — loud, shameless, degrading herself with every moan. “Yes! Use your princess… ruin me… I’m just a hole for you… please, Master… harder!” He fucks her with frantic, punishing force — hips slapping against her flanks, hands gripping her reduced wings like handles. The bed creaks. Her body rocks forward with every savage thrust. She cums again almost instantly — walls clamping down, milking him, squirting around his thick cock. And still he doesn’t stop. He keeps going — angry, desperate, lost in the wet heat of the broken alicorn who calls him Master and means it. --- The human suddenly stops. He pulls out of Cadance with a wet, obscene sound, his thick cock glistening with her slick. She whimpers immediately — desperate, empty, needy. “No… please, Master… don’t stop… fill me again… I don’t want to feel empty…” Her voice is soft, broken, dripping with that sickly-sweet devotion only a shattered Princess of Love could manage. He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he grabs her roughly by the hips, flips her onto her back like she weighs nothing. The blindfold is yanked off. Cadance blinks — wide, teal eyes finally meeting his. There’s no fear in them. Only hunger. Only worship. He hooks her hind legs over his shoulders, folding her almost in half, and slams back inside her in one savage thrust. Cadance cries out — loud, shameless, ecstatic. Each brutal plunge forces a wet slap of skin against skin. Her marehood stretches around his thick girth, clenching greedily, milking him with every stroke. She can feel every vein, every ridge as he fucks her deeper than before. “Yes… yes… like that… use your princess… ruin me…” she moans, voice cracking with pleasure. Her forehooves reach up, clutching at his arms, pulling him closer. He keeps going — furious, relentless. Minutes pass. Cadance cums again and again — body convulsing, walls fluttering, squirting around his cock in messy bursts. But he doesn’t finish. He just keeps pounding into her, using her like a toy built for his frustration. Finally, he slows. Changes angle. Presses his weight down on her, folding her completely beneath him so every thrust reaches even deeper. Cadance’s eyes widen. She feels it — the moment he starts to swell inside her, the heavy pulse of his impending release. She tries to speak — to praise him, to beg him — but he cuts her off with a brutal kiss. His tongue forces its way into her mouth, dominating, claiming, silencing her. Then he cums. Hot, thick ropes flood her womb — deep, scalding, endless. Cadance screams into the kiss, her own orgasm crashing through her like a tidal wave. Her legs shake violently around his shoulders. Her walls clamp down hard, trying to keep every drop inside. Even without magic, she feels it. That twisted, broken thing she calls love. He keeps moving — slower now, grinding deep, making sure she takes everything. When he finally stills, Cadance doesn’t let go. Her forelegs wrap around his neck, pulling him down against her chest. She nuzzles into his sweat-damp hair, whispering softly, reverently: “I love you… I love you, Master… even like this… I love you…” Her voice trembles with genuine, horrifying affection. The human stays buried inside her, breathing hard, staring at the wall. He doesn’t say it back. He never does. But Cadance doesn’t need him to. She has him. She has his anger. She has his frustration. She has his seed. And in this broken world, that’s the closest thing to love she’ll ever get. She holds him tighter. And smiles — soft, content, utterly destroyed. A chosen leash. And she chose it willingly. --- You’ve grown used to waking up with her. Trixie’s head rests on your chest most mornings, her warm breath brushing your skin. She loves to nuzzle closer during the night, rubbing her cheek against you, sometimes pressing soft kisses to your collarbone or the side of your neck until you stir. When you finally open your eyes, she’s already smiling — that small, genuine smile she only shows when no one else is watching. This morning is no different. She wakes you with gentle kisses, first on your mouth, then trailing down to your neck. Her mane tickles your shoulder. You feel her sigh against your skin — content, almost peaceful. “Tcht… it’s annoying,” you mutter under your breath, even as your hand automatically comes up to stroke her mane. But you don’t push her away. You can’t deny it anymore: it’s nice. Having someone who chooses to be close to you. Not because the government assigned her. Not because she was broken into it. Just… because she wants to. You shake the thought off and focus on the kitchen. You’re making breakfast: scrambled eggs with finely blended tomato sauce and a bit of cottage cheese for you and Trixie. For Quartz Cup, soft-boiled eggs with a creamy center, a fresh salad of shredded carrot, beet, lettuce, and hay, plus a bowl of oatmeal mixed with honey and sliced bananas — her favorite. You finish plating everything just as Trixie walks in. She’s not wearing her usual cape or hat. Instead, she has on a crisp white collar with a neat little bow tie — almost like a schoolteacher’s uniform. Black stockings hug her hind legs, and underneath… pink cotton panties. Simple. Almost innocent. She smells faintly of roses and jasmine. You stare for a second. “What… are you wearing?” Trixie pauses, then gives a small, almost shy smile — the kind that makes her look surprisingly vulnerable. “Do you like it?” she asks softly. “I thought… maybe today I could look a little different. Less like the Great and Powerful Trixie… and more like someone who belongs here.” She walks over and sits at the table, tail swishing once. Quartz Cup is already eating happily from her bowl on the floor, humming contentedly. You set the plates down. For a moment, the kitchen feels strangely… warm. Normal. Like a real home. Trixie takes a bite of the eggs and lets out a small, pleased sound. “It’s good,” she murmurs. “You always make it just right.” You sit across from her. Watch her eat. Watch the way her ears twitch when she enjoys a flavor. Watch how she glances at you every few seconds, like she’s making sure you’re still there. And for the first time in a long while, the weight in your chest feels a little lighter. You don’t say anything. You just eat. And for a few quiet minutes, the three of you exist in something that almost feels like peace. But you both know it’s fragile. Because in the guest room, Limestone is still waiting — broken, trembling, on the edge of complete surrender. And Trixie… Trixie is still deciding how much of herself she’s willing to give up to stay in this fragile, twisted little family. She reaches across the table and gently touches your hand. You don’t pull away. Not today. --- After breakfast you leave Quartz Cup curled on the couch, happily distracted by an old pre-cataclysm cartoon. She waves a hoof at you with a sleepy, adoring smile as you and Trixie head down the hallway. It’s time. The final session with Limestone. The moment you open the guest room door, the smell hits you like a wall — thick, sweet, and sharply acidic. Pheromones and slick, heavy enough to make your head spin. Limestone lies on the floor in a crumpled heap. No chains. No restraints. She’s completely free… and yet she hasn’t moved. Her body is twisted in an uncomfortable, exhausted pose, coat matted with dried sweat, flanks still marked with faint red lines from earlier sessions. She’s fast asleep, breathing slow and ragged. You stare. Why didn’t she run? The door was unlocked. She could have tried. She should have tried. Trixie clears her throat loudly. Nothing. The unicorn sighs, almost disappointed, and levitates the fusta from the side table — the same braided leather one she’s used for days. SMACK. The first strike lands hard across Limestone’s already tender flanks. SMACK. SMACK. Three rapid blows. The sound cracks through the room like gunfire. Limestone jolts awake with a raw, broken scream — eyes flying open, body jerking violently. Pain flashes across her face… but her cheeks are flushed deep crimson and her marehood winks hard, fresh slick dripping onto the floor beneath her. She scrambles to her hooves, legs trembling, ears pinned flat. The moment her eyes land on Trixie, she freezes. The unicorn is smiling — slow, sinister, full of dark promise. Trixie steps closer, voice sweet as poisoned honey. “It’s time, little rock. Time to graduate.” She leans in until her muzzle is right next to Limestone’s ear, but speaks loud enough for you to hear every word. “You will surrender voluntarily to your owner. To your master. In every way. Completely.” Limestone’s gaze snaps to you. For a second she trembles — you can’t tell if it’s pain, fear, or something far worse. Trixie straightens, magic already glowing around her horn. “Lie on your back. Spread your legs wide. Expose yourself completely. Show your owner exactly what belongs to him.” Limestone hesitates — just for a heartbeat. Trixie’s magic yanks her forward, forcing her down onto the floor. The earth pony lands on her back with a soft thud. Her hind legs are pulled apart and pinned wide open by invisible force. Tail yanked aside. Marehood and tailhole completely, shamefully displayed. Trixie’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “I don’t want to have to correct you again, little rock. Not today. So be a good girl… and show him.” Limestone’s chest heaves. Her marehood clenches visibly, another bead of slick sliding down her folds. She’s shaking. But she doesn’t close her legs. She doesn’t fight. She just lies there — exposed, trembling, broken — staring up at you with wide, glassy eyes. Trixie smiles wider. “See? She’s learning.” The unicorn turns to you, eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. “She’s ready, handler. All yours.” --- Limestone is already on her back, legs spread wide, no longer fighting. Her marehood is visibly swollen, lips glistening, clit winking rapidly the moment she sees you. When your boxers hit the floor and your thick, hard cock springs free, her eyes lock onto it. Her whole body trembles. A fresh gush of slick drips onto the carpet beneath her. She blushes hard — shame, need, and something broken all at once. Trixie smiles with pure, vicious delight. “See what your stubborn pride cost you, little rock?” she purrs, voice dripping venom. “All those days of fighting… and now look at you. Dripping. Begging. Pathetic.” She flicks her horn. Magic twists one of Limestone’s heavy crotch tits — sharp, cruel pressure. The earth pony gasps, back arching, a short cry of pain escaping her… but her marehood clenches visibly, another bead of slick running down her folds. She hates it. She loves it. Her mind is fracturing right in front of you. Trixie leans close to her ear, but speaks loud enough for you to hear every word. “When your owner finally enters you… when he claims what’s his… you will describe everything. Every sensation. Every inch. You will thank him properly. Understand?” Limestone nods frantically, eyes glassy. You kneel between her spread legs. The heat radiating from her is insane. You press the thick head of your cock against her soaked entrance — rubbing, teasing, coating yourself in her slick. She whimpers. You drag the tip up and down her slit, slow and deliberate. Limestone’s voice cracks as she starts describing — exactly as ordered. “It… it’s so hot… so thick… rubbing against me… teasing… please… it’s torture… just push… just a little…” Her words come faster, slurred, desperate. Saliva drips from the corner of her mouth as she talks. Her hips twitch uselessly, trying to impale herself. “Master… please… I can’t… I need it inside… I need you to fill me… I’ll be good… I’ll be your toy… just please—” Her voice turns sickly sweet, broken, feverish. “Please… claim me… breed me… I’m yours… I’m nothing without you… don’t throw me away… please… I’ll do anything…” Tears stream down her face. You try to pull back — guilt clawing at your chest. But the begging, the tears, the way she looks at you like you’re her entire world… it breaks something in you. You glance at Trixie. She’s smiling — wide, sadistic, triumphant. This was all planned. Every word, every edge, every denial. She wanted Limestone to shatter completely… and she wanted you to be the one to do it. You roar — raw, angry, defeated — and slam into her in one brutal thrust. Limestone throws her head back and screams in pure ecstasy. “Thank you! Thank you, Master! Finally… finally you’re inside me… I’m yours… I’m yours…!” Her walls are scalding hot, impossibly tight, rippling and pulling you deeper with every desperate clench. She milks you like her body was made for this. Her hind legs wrap around your waist, locking you in place as if terrified you’ll pull away again. You start moving — hard, deep, merciless. Limestone’s eyes roll back, tongue lolling, face twisted in mindless bliss. Trixie watches from the side, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. The Great and Powerful Trixie has won. Limestone is no longer fighting. She is addicted. And the last piece of resistance in this house has finally, completely, broken. --- You lose yourself in the heat. Every savage thrust draws another broken moan from Limestone — pain and ecstasy twisting together until her mind visibly fractures. Her walls clamp down around you like a vice, rippling, milking, desperate to keep you inside. Her hind legs lock around your waist with surprising strength, pulling you deeper, refusing to let you escape even for a second. You fight it. You keep moving — harder, faster — trying to stay in control. To your side, Trixie has collapsed onto the floor. She’s on her back, hind legs spread shamelessly, magic frantically rubbing circles over the soaked pink cotton panties. The fabric is drenched, a dark, obscene patch spreading wider with every stroke. Her scent — heavier, richer, almost overwhelming — floods the room, drowning out even Limestone’s desperate pheromones. Your eyes meet hers. Trixie doesn’t look away. She stares straight into you as her magic moves faster, hips bucking into her own touch. Her mouth falls open in a silent cry — then she cums hard, body arching off the floor, thighs shaking, panties completely ruined. Her gaze never leaves yours. Raw. Hungry. Possessive. You’re forced to look away when Limestone suddenly lunges upward. Her forelegs wrap around your neck, pulling you down against her chest in a desperate, clinging embrace. Her breathing is ragged, hot against your ear. Her tongue hangs out, lolling with every brutal thrust, drool slipping down her chin. You can’t hold back anymore. With a guttural groan you slam deep one final time and cum — hard, thick ropes flooding her womb, marking her from the inside. Limestone throws her head back and screams — a raw, broken cry of pure ecstasy. Her face twists into a ridiculous, mindless ahegao: eyes rolled back, tongue hanging loose, cheeks flushed crimson. Her marehood spasms violently around you, squirting in powerful jets that mix with your cum and splatter onto the floor, soaking her own tail. You pull out with difficulty — her body still trying to keep you inside. A thick gush of your mixed fluids pours out of her, running down her flanks and pooling beneath her. You’re breathing hard, chest heaving. But the pheromones in the room are merciless. Your cock is already hard again — throbbing, ready for another round. Trixie watches from the floor, still trembling from her own orgasm, eyes dark with satisfaction and something far more dangerous. Limestone lies there — limp, leaking, ruined — staring up at you with glassy, adoring eyes. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. Her body has already surrendered. And her mind is quickly following. The last struggle is over. She belongs to you now. Completely. --- Trixie’s POV I watch it happen. I watch my owner destroy the last stubborn pieces of Limestone Pie. Every brutal thrust, every broken moan, every spasm that rips through her body… it’s beautiful. Her mind is gone. Her pride is ash. All that remains is a dripping, desperate mare who will never fight again. I inhale deeply. Sweat. Virility. Male. The scent fills my lungs and makes my knees weak. I’m so tired. Tired of waking up alone. Tired of breaking others while I stay untouched. Tired of pretending I don’t want this — this quiet, ugly little life where someone needs me. I stand up. My legs shake as I walk toward him. He is my owner now. Not just Limestone’s. Not just Quartz Cup’s. Mine. Every step sends heat pooling between my thighs. My tail lifts on its own. My marehood winks, slick already running down my legs. I don’t care. I stop right in front of him. My horn glows. The spell is old, intimate, permanent. The tip of my horn shifts color — from soft lavender to a deep, intense red. A unicorn’s binding mark. From now on, only he can touch it without pain. Only he. I lower my head in complete submission. My hind legs spread. My tail raises high. My pink cotton panties are already soaked through. I look up at him — no cape, no show, no mask. Just me. “Master… my work here is finished,” I whisper, voice trembling. “If I’m honest… even with my discount, the price would ruin you. You’d lose everything.” I see the shock in his eyes. The fear. I smile — small, sad, hungry. “But there is another option…” I don’t get to finish. He snaps. With a low, furious growl he grabs me, lifts me off the ground like I weigh nothing. My face is crushed against his bare chest. My horn doesn’t hurt him — the spell works perfectly. I feel his heartbeat hammering against my cheek. His hands rip my panties aside in one violent tug. The fabric tears. I feel the thick, blunt head of his cock press against my entrance — hot, heavy, already slick with Limestone’s juices and his own pre-cum. Then he thrusts up. Hard. I scream — raw, broken, euphoric — as he buries himself to the hilt inside me in one brutal stroke. “Yes—! Yes, Master—! Make me your pet—! Use me—!” He doesn’t hold back. He fucks me like an animal — fast, deep, merciless. Each thrust lifts me off the ground. My legs dangle helplessly. My walls clamp down around him, milking desperately, trying to keep him inside forever. I cum almost instantly — violently — eyes crossing, tongue lolling, ahegao twisting my face into something unrecognizable. My magic sparks wildly around us. He keeps going. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. He claims me completely. I feel him swell inside me. Feel the moment he loses control. He roars and buries himself as deep as he can go. Hot, thick ropes of cum flood my womb — scalding, endless, marking me from the inside. I scream again — louder — another shattering orgasm ripping through me as I feel him fill me. He doesn’t pull out. Instead he crushes his mouth against mine in a furious kiss. His tongue dominates mine. Claims me. Owns me. I melt into it. I give him everything. When he finally breaks the kiss, I’m trembling in his arms — cum leaking down my thighs, eyes glassy, mind hazy with pleasure and something far deeper. I nuzzle against his chest, voice soft, broken, honest for the first time in years. “I’m yours now… completely… your property… your mare… please… never let me go…” He doesn’t answer. He just holds me tighter. And in that moment I realize the truth. I threw away my pride. My power. My name. For this. For the chance to be needed. Even if it’s only as another broken toy in his collection. Even if it destroys me. I close my eyes and smile against his skin. The Great and Powerful Trixie is gone. Only his Trixie remains. And she is finally, completely, home. --- Epilogue - Three Leashes One month later… Anon’s POV A month has passed since Trixie became mine. Figuratively, at least. She couldn’t be registered as a full incentive like the others — she came from an allied Equestria. So we signed a contract instead. All her wealth, properties, and assets now belong to me. In exchange, she gets to live at my side. Forever. Tsk. It still pisses me off. We no longer live in that cramped old apartment. The money from Trixie’s accounts bought us a large house in the suburbs. It’s too big. Too quiet. The basement is massive and fully soundproofed — the whole house is. The government approved the modifications without question. They always do when it comes to “incentive management.” I’m sitting on the new couch, the television droning some old pre-cataclysm show I’m not really watching. I don’t need to. I have much better entertainment right in front of me. Three mares kneel between my legs, licking and sucking my cock with fervent devotion, as if it were their favorite treat in the world. They take turns — slow, worshipful laps along the shaft, swirling tongues around the head, sucking greedily on the tip to taste the steady leak of pre-cum. Quartz Cup is gentle and eager, eyes shining with pure adoration every time she looks up at me. Limestone is more desperate now — her pride long gone. She pushes her muzzle in greedily, moaning softly whenever she gets a taste. And Trixie… Trixie has changed the most. She no longer wears her cape or hat. Just a simple leather collar around her neck — nothing magical, nothing suppressing. She made sure of that herself. A permanent spell on her horn ensures that only I am immune to her magic. She can still use it… but never against me. Right now she pulls back from my cock, letting Quartz and Limestone continue their eager work. She looks up at me with half-lidded eyes, voice low and dripping with lust. “I can’t wait for you to find a human partner, Master…” she purrs, a sadistic little smile curling her lips. “I’ll break her so beautifully for you. Then we’ll have an excuse… to have foals of our own.” The way she says it — sweet, cruel, hungry — sends a shiver down my spine. Nothing has really changed. I’m still walking this twisted path. Whether I want to or not. Quartz Cup takes me deep into her throat with a happy hum. Limestone licks along the underside, eyes glazed with need. Trixie watches them both with dark satisfaction, occasionally leaning in to kiss the base of my cock or whisper filthy praise. I lean back against the couch, hand resting on Trixie’s mane. Three leashes. Three broken mares. And me — the reluctant owner who no longer fights the system. Because fighting stopped mattering a long time ago. I close my eyes. And let them worship. This is my life now. This is what the world gave me. A chosen leash. And I’m the one holding all three ends.