A day has now passed since my branding and humiliation in front of my ponies in the city. The mutilation I have suffered under our oppressors was horrific, but now that my station in life has been formalized, my treatment has changed for the worse. I now realize that up until this point, the Caribou had just been toying with me, gloating in my defeat. But now my training has started in earnest; my “privileged” treatment has ended, and I have been processed like any ordinary mare would.
This morning I was woken up by the sound of guards bursting into the room. Rather than sating their carnal desires, they restrained me by roughly twisting my arms behind my back. A leather hood was pulled over my head, taking away my vision; furthermore, a ball gag was forced into my mouth to muffle my protests. In this undignified manner I was marched through the castle, down to the dungeon to be “processed”. All recently-captured slaves apparently go through this process to evaluate their attitude, physical characteristics, sexual talents and to determine their suitability to whatever modification procedures their masters wish for them. Mares are treated like nothing but cattle, property for stallions to do with as they wish - it is unspeakably demeaning, but nothing I haven’t come to expect from these invaders.
When we arrived at the dungeon I was lined up amongst several freshly captured slaves. My arms were shackled at the wrists and chained above my head, whereas my legs restrained by a spreader bar. Although I couldn’t see the other ponies, I could hear their groans and muffled sobs. They were mares captured during a raid of sorts, or so I overheard the guards saying. Although their gags prevented them from talking, these downtrodden ponies didn’t have to speak to communicate their terror at their impending fate. I felt pity for them, knowing the unimaginable horror of slavery that awaited them; my inability to protect my subjects was vexing beyond words.
I was snapped out of my misery by an unfamiliar, male voice. In typical Caribou fashion he looked at me as just another piece of meat, callously describing my physical features and scribbling down his findings on a notepad. I was formally registered as “trainee #27”, which along with the name of my owner, my slave name and planned designation was noted down on paper. My bodily measurements, such as height, bust size, waist and hips were taken and recorded in what I assumed was a profile of sorts. The degradation my loyal subjects and I had to suffer was appalling; being reduced to nothing but a number and only valued for my physique was horribly denigrating. But predictably, this would be the least of my concerns.
Having finished his administrative duties, the bull soon moved on to the physical part of the examination. He groped my breasts, caressing and fondling them to evaluate their sensitivity, perkiness, shape and size. He took note of my every physical reaction, whether I shook my body in a vain attempt to escape his hands, or let out an involuntary moan in response to a jolt of pleasure. Eventually focusing his fingers on my nipples, the Caribou worked them to full erectness. My response pleased him - I was earmarked as supposedly having “excellent potential to serve on the milking line, provided appropriate modifications are made”. My size compared favorably in his assessment, as he judged me “sufficiently large to pleasure her master with her udders, although extensive training is likely to be necessary.”
It was insulting to say the least, and if I could have lashed out at him I would have - but instead, I could only produce impotent, muffled screams as I struggled against my bonds. My objections were summarily ignored however, and the Caribou continued his demeaning examination.
Running his hands down my body, the bull carefully palpated my stomach, rear and thighs to assess my body’s physical state. Giving my behind a couple of firm slaps, he considered me to be healthy, but in need of a physical exercise program in order to maintain an “ideal figure in the eyes of my master”. I gritted my teeth at hearing his assessment. I have no intention of becoming Dainn’s perfect sex doll, but fear I will have no say in the matter. Regardless, there was little time to figure out how to thwart their plans, as the bull’s attention soon turned to my nether regions.
Without warning, the Caribou inserted his fingers into my vagina. I reflexively clenched down on him, trying to do what little I could to somehow keep him out of me - little did I know this was the exact response he was looking for, as he was using his hands to test my tightness and muscle control. Rather irritatingly, whatever I did just seemed to further the brute’s purpose; his fingers kept sensually pleasuring me, rubbing my clitoris and g-spot in all the right areas. I soon found myself dripping wet, and unable to stop the moans from escaping my mouth. Taking note of my wetness, the bull increased his rhythm, continuing to apply consistent pressure and pleasure to my sex. I was soon desperately trying to stave off climaxing, chewing down on my ball gag in an attempt to distract my mind from the orgasm I was inexorably being worked towards.
None of my physical reactions escaped the bull however. He soon focused his efforts on my clitoris, strumming my love bud with intense vigor. Despite my best efforts to resist I quickly lost control, much to the Caribou’s glee. With every flick of his fingers the pitch and volume of my moans increased; instead of trying to evade his touch, I now found myself grinding my hips against his fingers in an effort to reach the orgasm I now reluctantly, but despairingly needed.
I didn’t have to wait long. The bull’s objective was to conduct a physical examination, and as such he didn’t waste time teasing or denying me my pleasure. Sensing that he was about to push me over the edge, he increased his rhythm even further.
Rather begrudgingly, I must admit it felt heavenly. I shook violently as I climaxed, and my body finally released the pent-up pressure. My vagina winked uncontrollably, squirting fluids all over my assailant’s hand; in a moment of sheer lust I moaned shamelessly as I let wave after wave of raw pleasure wash over me. Only my restraints prevented me from collapsing onto the floor as the Caribou left me to note down his findings. Much to my disgust, he particularly approved of the volume of my ejaculate, commenting on how I would be modified and trained specifically to become a consummate squirter. How these uncultivated barbarians can consider this a desirable quality I cannot fathom.
But little did I know the worst part of my trial was yet to start. As I regained my senses my bit was removed, and promptly replaced with a ring gag, keeping my jaw opened wide “for the purposes of assessing my oral capabilities”. The metal bar holding me up by the wrists was lowered, and I was roughly grabbed by the mane and made to bend forward at the waist, awkwardly and painfully twisting my arms backwards. It was then that I heard the bull say:
“Would you like to do the honors, your majesty?”
I froze at hearing those words. The Caribou pulled off my leather hood, and once my eyes adjusted to the light I noticed that most hateful of bulls, Dainn, seated in front of me. He had come to appraise me personally, eying me up keenly and all too eager to fulfill the request. I screamed at him, attempting to condemn this usurper king for his vile actions. My gag prevented me from pronouncing words properly and it was all rather undignified, but I didn’t care - and neither did Dainn. Without as much as acknowledging my protests he stood up and zipped down his trousers, revealing his enormous, rapidly engorging member. The sight of Dainn’s penis, and the prospect of being violated by the bull who has caused all the evils that have befallen Equestria, was abhorrent. I screwed my eyes shut, fighting my shackles as the brute approached and cursing the quality of the metalwork that restrained me, but to no avail. When I reopened my eyes I was greeted by the sight of Dainn’s fully erect cock, which he promptly slipped into my mouth.
The taste was revolting - the salty taste of his sweat, mixed with the taste of other unfortunate mares he had enjoyed earlier in the day. I would have happily bitten down on his rod given the opportunity. It would be worth any form of punishment, but regrettably I could only grind my teeth on the metal ring inside my mouth. Dainn grabbed hold of my head, and to my dismay started pushing his rod ever deeper down my throat to see how far I would be able to take it; with each thrust of his hips, he made sure to force his cock further down to test my limit. Dainn’s lackey, a wiry, hawkish bull wearing a doctor’s coat and glasses closely observed the depth to which I was able to take the enormous penis, taking note of the depth of the bulge as well any gag reflexes being triggered.
I barely managed to take half of Dainn’s enormous rod - a unsatisfactory performance as a fully-trained slave is apparently expected to be able to orally pleasure the full length of her master’s stallionhood. As I hacked and coughed, the bull recommended I receive extensive oral training in order to learn how to properly deep-throat a cock. Dainn himself wasted little time however; as I was still catching my breath, the brute inserted his member right up my rear.
It must reiterate my intense dislike of anal sex. It is filthy, unbecoming behavior for a princess to engage in, and as such I have never allowed any of my lovers to defile me in such a manner. In addition this grave insult, Dainn’s member sliding into my behind caused me extreme discomfort - the past months of abuse have done nothing to change this. As he pushed his penis deeper and deeper inside me I cried out for mercy, but my pleas fell on deaf ears; the king was only concerned with my tightness and how to improve my sexual prowess. As he pumped himself deeper and deeper up my behind, he called on the bull to plan out extensive anal training, to teach me to enjoy anal as much as I supposedly love vaginal sex.
Then, with one rough, hard thrust of his hips, Dainn hilted himself inside me. I shrieked, feeling tears well up in my eyes as I was forced to bear the pain. I screwed my eyes shut, fighting back my yelps of discomfort every time his girthy member forced my walls apart, and was made to suffer through the sound of his hips slapping against my behind as he started thrusting ever faster. To add insult to injury, the rapist king soon started groping my rear. Running his hands over each of my cheeks, he commented to his crony how I was “one of the most exquisite females” Equestria had offered his kind - but also how my body would need to be “improved” in order to be worthy of being his slave.
I was shocked to hear Dainn wanted me become more voluptuous. Finishing his assessment of my buttocks and hips, he demanded that I, in his words, “develop more ass”. I immediately made my opposition known, but in response I was again pulled up by my chains in order for the barbarian warlord to have ample access to my breasts. The brute fondled my globes with his rough, calloused hands, squeezing them and getting a good feel of their shape and softness as he continued to work himself in and out of my rear. Not even one of Equestria’s finest bosoms was good enough for the defiler. In line with the Caribou’s tendency to rape, pillage and pervert, Dainn declared that my chest was to be developed into more voluminous, sensitive, and permanently lactating sex organs to please his fancy. His demands were preposterous, a debauched fantasy - but to my surprise, his assistant replied that modifying my body in such a manner was within their capabilities, and readily explained the various “treatment” options available.
Hearing his plans for my body enraged me. A princess of Equestria, being physically…altered into this wretched savage’s sex object! I can think of no more insulting, more humiliating a fate. What struck me, besides the seeming impossibility of their goals, was the casualness of the conversation. Here he was, an invader violating a head of state in the worst possible way, laying out his plans for her with supreme confidence in bringing his objectives to full fruition. Their methods to change and train me, no matter how insane and farfetched, were discussed like it were everyday business. Dainn seems to almost delight in informing me of what training he has in store for me, what he expects me to learn and how he wants me to behave - it’s a psychological game I must resist being affected by.
It wasn’t long before I felt Dainn speed up the rhythm of his hip thrusts - I could tell he was close to orgasming. With a loud groan he released his disgusting load into my bowels, filling me up with each revolting throb of his cock before finally withdrawing himself from me. Dainn clearly enjoyed his conquest, calling me his bitch; in a final command to his subordinate ordered that I would always need to be lusty in order to become a raging, shameless whore. As his sperm spilled onto the floor, I was made aware that mares can somehow be forced into a permanent, heightened state of heat, and made to suffer through demented cock lust for the rest of their lives.
It is hard to fathom how the Caribou would be able to change a pony to such an extent. I know of certain...physical enhancement spells but their effects are only temporary. Rune magic is the most likely guess, but it is entirely foreign to me. Dainn’s lackey did mention several substances apparently taken from the flora and fauna the Caribou have brought with them from the north; the notion of having my body twisted and perverted fills me with dread.
I did not have much time to ponder my impending fate however. Just when I thought my ordeal was over, the proceedings took a more sinister turn. Having finished their evaluation, the Caribou considered me ready to be “imprinted” - supposedly, the time had come to implant the seed that will eventually turn me into the king’s perfect, submissive pet. Dainn’s assistant retrieved a jar from a cabinet filled with a green, semi-transparent fluid. To my horror, it contained…a monstrosity. It was an abomination of sorts they had hauled with them from their frozen homeland. A writhing, crimson red mass of tentacles is the best way to describe it, an eyeless creature flailing its appendages at me from behind the glass as the bull presented it to me. Panic and fear overtook my mind when the bull started unscrewing the lid. Through my ring gag I screamed at him, my words ranging from threats to have him castrated to begging him for mercy - all of which were met with the cold, unfeeling eyes of a scientist conducting an experiment on some hapless lab animal.
The creature wasted no time lunging at me. It’s slimy feelers immediately grabbed hold of my head; within moments it had wrapped itself around my face. I could only scream as a thick phallus emerged from its body, and slammed itself deeply down my throat. Using its powerful arms it latched tightly onto my face, completely covering my muzzle and eyes. Panic and sheer terror filled my mind as I felt the tentacles force themselves into my ears, even my nostrils. I could not see, breathe or hear - nor move my arms to attempt to claw this disgusting thing off my face. Apparently sensing my heaving and futile attempts at drawing a breath, it soon released a torrent of fluids and odors down my throat and nostrils. I felt its member pulsating inside my mouth, force-feeding me the liquids it excreted. I was choking, drowning in its filth. But mere moments later, I felt the terror subsiding. Somehow, I calmed down, feeling myself relaxing and accepting the horror that was injecting its bodily fluids into me. Before I knew it, I had completely stopped struggling, let my head hang and passively suckled on the cock buried down my throat.
I had fallen prey to a creature from the “Hive”, life forms completely unknown here in Equestria. This particular specimen’s purpose was to completely pacify its host; to this end, it released a potent concoction of fluids aimed at suppressing conscious thought and escape reflexes. Having delivered its payload, the creature finally withdrew its members from my mouth and nostrils, allowing me to breathe. The effects of the drugs only intensified however; I soon found myself slack-jawed, completely unable to resist as the creature moved off my muzzle. It was not even that my body refused to listen - rather, I no longer wanted to fight whatever it was doing to me.
Keeping its tentacles firmly inserted into my ears, the writhing, organic mass now moved off my muzzle, and tightly latched onto my scalp. It felt like it melded into my skin, boring into my brain. Each neural connection it made strengthened its control over me. Any remnants of fear and resistance were quickly replaced with passive acceptance, and I soon had no choice but surrender my mind entirely to its will. I found myself in a strange but pleasant haze, unable to form any clear thoughts - I had been rendered completely docile and open to suggestion, ready for my imprinting.
“Listen to my voice, slave. You will obey your master.”
These words, spoken by Dainn, resounded loudly in my mind. A powerful, dominant, male voice.
“Kneel before your master, Sun Slut.”
Hearing my new name, one that I had hated intensely just moments before, now filled me with a sense of identity and pride. I was a slave. My name was Sun Slut. In my drug-addled mind, it all felt...right somehow. My restraints were undone and my gag unclasped; overcome with the desire to comply I immediately let myself fall to the ground, kneeling as submissively as I could. I had no choice but to obey this man. A moment of confusion crossed my mind as I remembered the hatred I held for him - I briefly considered rebuking him, but instead I almost involuntarily said:
“Yes Master Dainn, Sun Slut obeys.”
Part of me was surprised at my answer, as well as the absolute conviction with with I spoke these words. For the first time, I saw myself as truly subservient to Dainn. In my mind, he was my master, able to command me, his slave, as he wished. The experience was powerful, almost surreal. But I was given no time to rationalize my actions, nor do I suspect I would have been able to in my mentally altered state. The faint voices of the mares present seemed to fade away into the distance, as I started to focus on Dainn’s voice alone.
“Come, my pet. Take in your master’s scent.”
My master’s command reverberated in my mind. With my eyes still covered by the tentacled mass, I started crawling towards the voice that beckoned me. Following my nose, I soon zeroed in on a wonderful mixture of bodily odors and pheromones, and greedily inhaled the scent that I would normally find absolutely revolting - the scent of my master’s cock and balls. The sensation was indescribable, incredibly vivid. It was raw sexual attraction, all of my primitive mating instincts amplified and being brought to the fore. Every breath sent me aflutter as I felt pure, carnal desire take control of me. The closer I approached my prize, the more profound these feelings became; by the time I made it to Dainn’s seat my thighs were sticky with my own fluids, and I was breathing raggedly like a feral beast in heat.
“Lick, Sun Slut. Suck. Let your master’s taste and shape be etched into your mind.”
Hearing my master’s order made me shriek with glee. I buried my muzzle into Dainn’s testicles, lathering my tongue all over his family jewels. His taste triggered a range of powerful feelings in my brain. It was like a potent drug, a reward for finding what I had been biologically purposed to do - search out a perfect mate to procreate with. I moaned loudly as I ravenously inhaled my master’s musk, letting all the sexual feelings freely wash over me. In my parasite-affected mind, this bull was what I had always desperately been searching for. The creature attached to my scalp was forcing me to love this more than anything, overriding all resistance to its will. Neural pathways were broken and reformed in my brain; I was being manipulated and re-molded to become Dainn’s eternal consort, forever bound to him by instinct and flesh.
The horror of my fate, however faintly I was aware of it, didn’t register. Instead, I felt my master’s member starting to engorge itself once more, stretching its sheath. I felt intense elation as I felt his rapidly stiffening shaft emerging and brushing against the side of my cheek. Without needing to be persuaded I lathered my tongue up Dainn’s cock, and once I reached his tip, took it into my mouth without hesitation. Every vein, bump, curve and ridge was engraved into my memory as I started vigorously working myself up and down his length, sucking wildly and savoring its taste.
Enjoyment doesn’t come close describe my feelings in that moment. I absolutely relished serving my master like that. My whole world centered around him. Memories of past lovers, their scents, our passionate love-making, the little things that attracted me to them…these all seemed to fade into nothingness. It was like my preferences, desires and instincts were being overwritten, replaced with an undying lust for this glorious, powerful cock I was worshipping. The sense of utter subservience to my master’s dominance, something I could never have imagined ever delighting in, was overbearing. I now begrudgingly understand what Cadance was talking about when she spoke about “the pleasure of submission” - without justifying any of the Caribou’s actions, a mare out of instinct desires the most dominant, powerful stallions; and this nature was now being used to pervert me, to plant the seed of this repugnant sexual fetish.
Regardless, I was powerless to resist. Every time I felt Dainn’s cock slide up my throat it became more familiar. It started tasting better, feeling better. It felt so right. My oral imprinting was only interrupted by my master’s command:
“That’s enough, Sun Slut. Good girl.”
With a tinge of disappointment I released my lips from the king’s member, and as I reverted back to my kneeling position, felt the tentacles covering my head loosen their grip. Having expended its energies, the creature slid off my face and fell to the ground - but its mind altering effects lingered. Before me I observed what seemed like the most magnificent penis I had ever set my eyes on; and once I dared to look up, instead of a monstrous brute, I saw a stunningly attractive bull sitting before me. With a wonderful, deep voice he commanded:
“Get up, my slave. Fuck this cock you so desire.”
It was all the persuasion I needed. I eagerly climbed up onto his seat, straddled his lap and slid his rod into my well-lubricated vagina. The moan that escaped my mouth was coarse, primal like that of a beast at the height of estrus. It felt...extraordinary. Grinding my hips onto his member, I wildly rode my master, desperately attempting to sate my lust. The feeling of having his cock inside me was...intensely pleasurable. It sent me flying in a way I have never experienced before. Every single ridge and curve seemed to hit just the right spots; my pussy seemed to have been made just to fit his cock. Having my vagina stretched by his manhood, plunging into my deepest, most sacred of places - I am loath to admit it, but in my drug-addled mind it all felt so perfect, like I had finally discovered my purpose in life.
I wrapped my arms over his shoulders, pressing my breasts against his chest and staring deeply into his beautiful azure eyes. It was a powerful moment during which I was made to bond with my master - I do not think I will ever forget his piercing gaze. It was stern and dominant, and yet I also felt approval, and a hint of warmth and kindness to his obedient slave.
My unrestrained moans filled the room as I indulged in pure pleasure, to my master’s satisfaction. Having his hands feel up my body felt wonderful, and soon I could feel his breath growing more ragged. Dainn’s hips started meeting mine as he started pounding my pussy, as he commanded me once more:
“Don’t you dare cum before me, cunt. Know that you are mine, and that I control you utterly.”
I could only squeal as I wildly rode his magnificent cock, desperately trying to control myself as I was told. In that moment, the power he wielded over me was intoxicating. I was being ravaged by a powerful conqueror, and loving every second of it.
Likewise, my tightening sex was clearly ecstasy for the king, and soon his grunts turned to loud moans. Grabbing hold of my hips, Dainn started pounding me with intense vigor, hilting himself with each push of his enormous member. It felt heavenly, and I soon found myself clinging to the edge with what little control I could muster. Fortunately I didn’t have to wait long for my desire to be satisfied - with several hard, rhythmic thrusts my master soon released his full load into my depths.
The feeling of my master’s cock throbbing inside me and filling up my womb was wonderful, and only added to the incredible orgasm I experienced. It was earth-shattering, and for a few moments I completely blacked out as I was overwhelmed by pure pleasure. Not even my enchanted plugs could force me to climax with such intensity. If every session with my master is to be like this...heavens help me.
When I came to my body was still shaking wildly, only kept impaled on Dainn’s cock by his firm grip as he rode out his own orgasm. It was primal, animalistic, and in a moment of pure impulse I embraced this man, for whom I shortly before bore nothing but intense hatred - and passionately kissed him.
In a brief moment of tenderness he allowed me to taste him. As was to be expected from my state of complete suggestibility, I was not disappointed. Despite the perceived loveliness and bliss, Dainn only allowed this transgression because it served as further imprinting, solidifying the bond between master and slave.
When our lips finally unlocked I felt besotted, like a young mare finding her first love. The king’s command made it clear that this was no romance, however.
“Clean up your mess, my pet. I know you will savor the taste.”
Dainn was my master, and I was his slave. Obeying his order, I lifted myself off his lap and started lathering my tongue up and down his still-erect penis, happily lapping up the mixture of vaginal fluids and sperm. Normally it would have made me retch - not so this time. After I had cleaned every nook and cranny of my master’s cock, I was made to lick up the spillage caused by Dainn’s excess semen. I gleefully swallowed his bodily fluids, shamelessly licking them off the seat and floor like a famished animal.
“Good girl, Sun Slut.”
The king’s last words to me resonated in my mind. I felt proud, happy and lucky to have been chosen by him! This moment of bliss was rudely disturbed however, as I was soon torn away from Dainn. It was gut-wrenching. I needed to be with him. I needed to obey him. He was my master, and my purpose was to utterly submit to him. His scent, the taste, shape and musk of his cock had been etched into my brain, and will forever trigger powerful feelings of attraction, submission, obedience and lust. My imprinting was complete - I was Dainn’s mare now, whether I liked it or not.
As I was dragged back to my post I pleaded for a few more moments with the king, debasing myself and begging him to fuck his slave. To my bitter disappointment I was completely ignored, shackled amongst the other mares and gagged once more. Dainn got up from his seat, commanding the bull to draw up a training schedule to cover my development from a recalcitrant black collar into a servile pet, and left the room.
As the Caribou moved on to assess the next unfortunate slave, I was left hanging from my chains, and soon felt my faculties returning. It wasn’t long before I became aware of the other mares, staring at me with shock. They had seen their princess, the pony they hoped would lead them to salvation, willingly…fuck the monster responsible for their enslavement, and orgasming freely as she did so. As soon as I was once again able to form rational thoughts I felt intense shame. Once again I had let my loyal subjects down, and unable to fulfill my role as princess of Equestria.
The guards couldn’t come fast enough. Perhaps for the first time, I was glad to be led back to my cage, shielded from the dejected and disappointed eyes of my fellow slaves. In his final assessment, the bull considered me to have all the makings of a magnificent slave. Large, sensitive tits and a tight cunt, and an ass that would please any stallion’s eye. I am to be put through an intense training and modification program to fully develop my “talents”.
Somehow I am to become ever-horny, with a body more voluptuous than many a stallion’s fantasy could dream up. I am demanded to have a completely submissive and obedient mind, as well as being a consummate sex slave able to expertly please her master and perform any debauched sex act demanded of her.
The Caribou’s goal is clear: the utter perversion of my body and complete corruption my mind. I do not see how I can ever become what they want me to be. It seems like an eternity ago when we were at liberty, enjoying our lives like free ponies ought to; now I am a mere thrall, to be transformed into a shameless harlot expected to perfectly perform unspeakably depraved sex acts in public.
How they are planning to turn my body and mind into that of a perfect slut I dare not imagine. It fills me with despair, knowing that every day spent under the Caribou’s yoke pushes me inexorably towards the fulfillment of their designs. My subconscious mind has been altered, overwritten to develop a strong affinity for submission, as well as for my owner.
To what extent I will be able to consciously suppress the effects of my imprinting remains to be seen. It is my hope that we will be able to undo its effects, not just for my sake but also for the other ponies that have suffered this dismal fate.
- Princess Celestia