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The swelling of pride in Twilight’s chest is matched only be the swelling cocks around her. She helped make this happen, and in some selfish corner of her obedient mind, she knows this wouldn’t have been possible without her devotion to her masters.
Sixty pounds of iron keep the self proclaimed super pony on her knees, as all females should be when presented for use. Not Twilight though. Not today. She’s earned the privilege of standing by the side of her betters. It’s an accomplishment she can feel in her breasts. The reward for service is the service itself, but there might be something more for her later. She’s such a good girl.
Not Supermare though. Already there’s a ripped buck moving to position himself behind her struggling form. The chains rattling are louder than the small talk of accomplishment among those Twilight happily serves. It must be frustration, she imagines, to do something once so impossible as bend metal with mere brute strength, and now be so… helpless.
Something warm drips down the inside of Twilight’s thighs at the mere thought.
The buck behind Supermare will be the first of many. Maybe they’ll even allow Twilight to take a turn with her.
A hand pats her head at that moment, gently rubbing it. It smells faintly of precum. Twilight’s nipples harden instantly.
“Good girl,” a rough voice speaks well above her. She could cum just from this.
“How may I serve?” Twilight asks, eyes on Supermare’s eyes at the moment of her penetration. The first of so many more. Twilight could get use to it, but without the bit in the slave pony’s mouth. She would want to hear what Supermare has to say, if her master’s allowed her that privilege. Good girls get privileges though.
The head pats stop. A second lingers, stretches out further than it should. Everything to do with Supermare seems to be an anomaly.
“Improve the formula,” the buck tells her flatly, then steps away to get in line with his brothers.
The simple demand reveals the easily missed detail that Twilight, in her selfish pride, completely missed.
Supermare was struggling to break free.
Sixty pounds of metal were needed to contain the muscles of a body builder. Muscles so big a swollen that the chains looked small in comparison. For something that was supposed to be the mare’s weakness, she didn’t look very weak at the moment. Just contained, slowed down, defiant.
Supermare’s eyes never left Twilight’s. Even in victory, Twilight felt like she had lost.