Drinking the Punch Chapter 5

>Another hard day at work ends with you arriving at home, your modest, unassuming place in downtown Ponyville.
>Well, except for the very special pony you’ve kept locked up here, of course.
>Tossing off your jacket, you head straight for Berry’s room, eager to check on the status of your slave –
>it’s been the two weeks you’d promised her, and so it’s time to take stock.
>The cerise mare is locked up in her bindings, blindfolded, gagged,
>harnessed, collared, tied, and locked up in every way imaginable.
>For fourteen straight days, a massively thick stallion dildo has been buried in her cunt,
>vibrating away like a supercharged weed whacker, while a big fat plug sealed up her other hole.
>Aside from periodic feeding and hygiene checks, she has been completely immobilized –
>and, most importantly of all, her new,
>enchanted clitoris piercing has kept her love button forced out of her while also denying her  any release.
>You sincerely doubt she can think;
>three hundred and thirty-six hours of non-stop edging has likely reduced her to a pitiful, sniveling sex doll.
>You look on her, and she seems positively unconscious; though of course,
>gagged and blinded as she is, there’s no way to truly know.
>Well, time to end your little experiment.
>You slide the filled bucket of her sexual secretions out from beneath her, sealing it and putting it aside.
>Her vulva looks beet red, and her clitoris is still weakly twitching in protest,
>no doubt tortured by the endless pressure of an unquenchable desire to cum.
>You click off the vibration of her dildo, deflate its ‘flare’ and easily slide it out of her cunt –
>loose, musky, and very, very flushed.
>It’s too much to resist. Placing your hands on her cheeks,
>you spread her open as wide as you can and suck deeply,
>your mouth covering every inch of the tiny equine’s battered sex.
>As juicy and heady as always. Hmm.
>The tiny steel rod of her piercing has a loose chain running from end to end –
>if anything will get a response from her, this will.
>You give it a gentle tug, and a panicked moan and quake is stifled by the thorough apparatus of her restraints.
>Good. She’s conscious.
>You take a good long lick at her clitoris, sending a shudder through her leather-wrapped tail,
>and then get to the business of undoing all of this –
>removing her plug, her blindfold, her gag, tail wrap, metal leg spreaders, ceiling mounted harness,
>and other assorted straps and locks keeping her safe and secure.
>As the last buckle is undone, she immediately collapses,
>and you gracefully grab her by the belly before she can crash to the ground.
>Barely conscious. Unresponsive. First things first, she needs a bath…
>Whereupon you scheme up a very naughty idea indeed.
>You do carry her to the bathroom, and gently lay her in the tub,
>but you don’t turn on the faucet, or reach for shampoo.
>You instead head to your kitchen, where a special cooler full of sealed buckets of alcoholic pony-cum sits,
>waiting for sale and consumption by the unwitting residents of Ponyville.
>Grabbing one of these, you haul it back up to the bathroom,
>and, taking Berry Punch carefully in your arm, you pour it over her and fill the tub to a moderate level.
>She hasn’t said a word, or even really visibly moved apart from breathing;
>you take the chance to soak her mane in cum,
>thoroughly lathering it through her hair as her coat is soaked in its fruity fragrance.
>The smell is intoxicating alone – why not keep her immersed in it?
>Once she’s coated in the stuff, you grab a bottle of conditioner and treat her to something more reasonable.
>Concessions must be made to presentability, after all.
>…
>You lather up her mane and tail, thick purple blobs of oily hair each cleaned in turn.
>Luckily, by the time you drain the bath and swaddle her in towels,
>she smells powerfully of her special aroma of sex and liquor.
>You’d been wondering what to do with all her extra cum – it seems like the solution has finally presented itself.
>Carrying her to your bedroom, you spend some time drying out the last moisture of her hair –
>the conditioner hides the damage of alcohol immersion quite poorly,
>but you don’t really find you care all that much.
>The smell, coating every inch of her stuporous body, is turning you into a horny beast;
>you slip off your clothes and crawl into bed with her,
>making love with your favorite little slave for the first time in weeks.
>The one unfortunate part of Berry’s life is your lack of intimacy –
>there’s nothing quite like holding a pony in your arms,
>feeling the softness of her coat against your skin as you make love under the sheets of a warm, cozy bed.
***
>By nine o’clock the next morning, Berry still hasn’t woken up;
>understandable, but still a bit unfortunate.
>Hmm.
>Looking down at her crotch, you’ve made quite a mess over the past few hours.
>You grab one of her dildos, wet a paper towel, and gently scrape out your semen,
>cleaning up and drying her pussy so that she isn’t too disoriented when she gets up.
>Speaking of which, you should probably clean up her equipment while you’re at it.
>You grab her plug and the handful of dildos you keep on hand,
>boil a pot of water on the stove, and drop them inside to disinfect them;
>Mopping up the cum-stained floor of her room comes next, and finally you wipe down her harness,
>cleansing it of stray hair, dirt, cum, sweat, or whatever else was built up over weeks of constant use.
>It’s a lot of work, but the look on her face, as she went mad in the throes of unfulfilled pleasure,
>makes every second of this truly worth it.
>You’re in the kitchen scrubbing down her toys when you hear her hoofsteps resound in the hall;
>a second later, Berry Punch wobbles into the room,
>unsteady and uneasy after what must have been an unbearably long session.
“Morning, sleepyhead.”
>”…Master?”
>Berry walks over to the table and sits down, rubbing her bleary eyes as she acclimates to the morning.
>You set down the sponge and butt plug you were holding and draw a glass of water,
>walking over to the kitchen table and taking a seat across from your slave.
“Here, take this.”
>Berry sips from the glass as you examine her.
>She seems to be blinking a lot; no doubt fourteen days blindfolded will take a toll on a pony’s vision.
“You all right?”
>”H-how long was I locked up?”
“Two weeks exactly, as I promised. Did you enjoy it?”
>Berry looks surprised, and then blushes; something you haven’t seen for a while.
>”Um… yes, very much. It’s strange… not being able to, well…” She winces.
>“A-and it… the piercing, is always there to make me think about it.”
“Hm. Well, Berry, I think I’ve come upon a schedule we can use.
For a few hours today, I’ll have you out exercising, getting some sun,
and then tonight we can hook you back up. But only for a week, this time –
I don’t want your health to suffer from living the life that makes you happy.”
>She smiles, gratification and satisfaction beaming from ear to ear.
“What do you think of your setup? With all your restraints, that is.”
>”It’s good… some of the straps cause a little chafing, is all. Near my forelegs.”
“Well, when I hook you back up, just tell me if it’s uncomfortable and I’ll adjust it.”
>”Okay!”
>Berry looks thoughtful for a moment.
>”Um, what’s for breakfast, Master?”
“Huh, I hadn’t actually thought of that.”
>You rifle through your cabinets, finding a box of corn flake cereal.
>You wonder how Pony milk goes with it.
>…
>Pretty good, it turns out – Berry’s milk is uniquely sweet;
>a slight purple tinge to the liquid, and a faint flavor of grape, are all that really set it apart from typical cow milk.
>She seems to be liking it too.
>Perhaps you can make Berry Punch ice cream…?
>Well, that’s a concern for a later time. For now, once the two of you finish your breakfast,
>you take your bowls and throw them in the sink.
>As you’re about to prepare for your run, you look at the toys drying on a hand towel;
>a shiny string of marble-sized beads catches your attention.
“Hey Berry, I’ve got something for you.”
***
>Ponyville’s not too busy this morning, and the calm autumn breeze is perfect for your exercise;
>nor are the few who are out and about paying much attention to Berry,
>much to your relief. She HAS been completely missing for two whole weeks.
>You look over at your cute little cum-fountain as she fidgets against the beads pressing into her butt;
>it’s quite adorable, though she seems to also genuinely have trouble keeping pace,
>no doubt a consequence of her two weeks of nonstop edging.
>About twenty minutes into your run, just as you pass the Ponyville Library, she stops alongside a house.
“Tired already?”
>”Y-yeah… sorry, Master…”
“None of that, my dear.”
>You take her head in your hands and kiss her.
“I’m not the one who needs to get in shape.”
>You slow your pace to a walk for a little while, window shopping as you head into downtown Ponyville.
>Winter is approaching, so the stores are stocked with all manner of hats, boots, and other accessories;
>Wait a second…
>Seeing something rather promising, you slip into one such store and make a quick purchase,
>grabbing two bottles of water as a cover story.
>Berry didn’t seem to notice, but appreciates the drink when you hand it to her.
>”So, how long are we gonna be out?”
“Maybe another half hour. You feeling okay?”
>She gives an embarrassed smile.
>”Y-yeah… except for, well, you know.”
>Gosh, she’s so sweet. You almost regret spending so little time just talking with her.
>You pet her along the ear.
“I’m very proud of you, Berry. You’re the best Pony I could’ve asked for.”
>She nuzzles affectionately against your hand, and you both share a quiet moment in the shade,
>before resuming your jog through town.
>Half an hour later, you’re back home, and Berry is sweating quite profusely as you step through the door.
“You look beat.”
>”It’s not that bad. Just… need to relax, take a shower…”
“Hm? You’re not finished.”
>”Wha?”
“Berry, you’ll only get to move one day a week from now on.
You have to get a lot of exercise in so you don’t wither away.”
>She looks a bit upset, but your argument gets to her.
“Not that you can’t relax.”
>You walk into the kitchen and open the fridge,
>grabbing an unlabeled bottle and pouring yourself a nice, tall glass of mare cum.
>As you head to your living room, you see Berry reaching for the very same bottle.
>God, you love that pony.
***
>If Master wants you to work out, then by Celestia, you’re going to work your flanks off!
>…Except for the part where you’ve never worked out in your life.
>It was just one of those things you never did; you certainly weren’t an athletic filly,
>and by the time you grew up, it didn’t seem important.
>Hmm.
“Should I do pushups?”
>”Sure, go ahead.” Your Master calls from the other room.
>Well…
>You crouch all the way to the ground and push back up, repeating as quickly as you can;
>your heart is racing, and your knees straining, so at least you know it’s working.
>…but after a while, it’s almost too much.
>You collapse, panting, exhausted and sweaty, your joints and heart throbbing.
>”Good effort, Berry. You lasted ten straight minutes.”
“Huh!?!?”
>Damn it, only ten minutes? You’re never going to get in shape at this rate…
>“Berry, don’t be upset about taking it slow. This is only for your health.”
>Anon pets your shoulder, but you still feel a bit disappointed.
>“Why don’t you do jumping jacks for a bit, change it up? If you’re a good girl, I’ll even reward you.”
“A Reward?”
>”Well, you’ll just have to do your best and find out.”
***
>For someone as sedentary as Berry, she’s quite diligent when it comes to exercise;
>you’ve heard the clapping of her hooves for well over an hour as she does jumping jacks in her room,
>with periodic breaks, of course.
> If this is her obligation to earn a week of unending pleasure,
>you reckon she’s earned it amply; you’re quite proud of her.
>The tall glass of ‘punch’ you’ve been nursing since you got home is quite tasty;
>subtly sweet, and just the slightest bit tangy.
>Still, nothing beats the genuine article. Time to give your slave her surprise.
>You walk in to her jumping up and down to a good rhythm.
“Berry, stop for a second.”
>”Wha?”
>She freezes, befuddled, as you step up and kneel behind her,
>brushing aside her tail and latching on to your faithful cum-fountain.
>”Aaahhh!”
“Shhh…”
>You pet her flanks as your tongue slides up her slit; you’d give anything to see her face right now.
>Her swollen, pierced clitoris is an even easer target now that it can’t retract,
>and you find yourself flitting and toying with the steel rod that impales her hyper-sensitive flesh.
>Soon enough, a steady trickle of tasty fluids are leaking out for your drinking pleasure,
>and Berry has completely fallen to the ground.
>You indulge in her delicious flavor for a few more moments,
>before ending your fun, satisfied and more than a little aroused.
“Go take a shower, Berry. I’ll make lunch.”
>”She flashes a smile and pecks you on the cheek. “Sure thing, Master!”
***
>Half an hour or so later, your berry-flavored pony slave comes sauntering out of the bathroom,
>a towel wrapped around her mane and a swing in her step.
>The bland freshness wafting off of her is a far cry from last night’s bath –
>oh well. She probably needed it.
“Salad sandwiches for lunch. Sorry.”
>”Aww, it’s no big deal, Master. I missed something a little… crunchier.”
>You hadn’t thought of that – having only eaten soup, porridge, oatmeal and the like while she was bound,
>your uninteresting salad is probably a godsend to her.
>Still, there’s something intimately paternal about feeding her with a spoon,
>and you imagine she’d be too out of her wits to eat any other way.
>Hers is stuffed with roses, carnations, and daffodils, with a generous helping of mayonnaise;
>you went with a typical egg salad sandwich.
>You watch her take her first bite before chiming in.
“You like it? I found it in a cookbook.”
>”Mmm, it’s a little… Fluttershy, for my taste. Gimme a bite of that egg salad, please.”
>Huh. You hand over your sandwich and she takes a hearty chomp.
>So much for romance.
***
>A quiet evening in was just what you needed;
>Master’s wonderful hands are perfect for soothing your sore muscles,
>and you’ve cherished these past few hours of relaxation.
>Still, you’ve become anxious without your binds to secure you,
>and so the time has come for you to be locked up for a full seven days of bliss.
>The long and involved process need not be repeated yet again,
>though you’re pleasantly surprised to recall that Master cleaned everything today –
>you may not be able to notice it when you’ve lost your mind to pleasure,
>but it’s reassuring to know he’s so considerate of your hygiene.
>The blindfold slips over your eyes, Anon tying it snugly against your head.
>“Can you see anything?”
”No, Master.”
>”Good girl. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
>Suddenly, you feel something soft being inserted into your ear;
>some sort of an ear plug?
>”One less sense you won’t be needing. Should make the pleasure all the more intense,”
>Anon whispers into your free ear, before plugging up that one too.
>You feel a finger pressing at your mouth and you open wide,
>the metal ring gag stretching it open for whatever purpose your Master requires.
>A moment later, you feel his warm, slippery tongue brushing against your nethers,
>and you can’t help but moan as he eats you out, drooling from both ends of your body.
>A large, rounded plug is pushed against your butt,
>and it slips inside of you easily with the help of generous lubricant.
>Three full pumps and the flick of a remote, and your ass is merrily buzzing away;
>still, it’s nothing compared to the main course…
>Wait…
>You feel a tiny object being pressed against your clit, and it is secured with some sort of tape.
>Two more are pressed into your depths, and you realize too late just what Master has in mind;
>the vibrators spring to life,
>shattering any restraint or modesty as your button and G-spot are pleasured without respite.
>Your well-lubricated tunnel is penetrated by the same thick, equine dildo that’d tormented you for weeks,
>serving to hold the tiny vibrators against your G-spot snugly in place.
>The final piece, however, is something you’d never even thought of –
>a tiny weight, hooked to the chain attached to your piercing,
>that tugs down noticeably, if not painfully, on your clit.
>One of your earplugs is idly plucked out –
>”Sorry if it isn’t what you were expecting, but we’ll both be thirsty over the coming days.
>I’m sure you’ll be leaking like a faucet in no time, my pretty little  pony.
>Now, how about a little fun?”
>Your ear is re-sealed, and the unmistakable texture of his cock is pressed against your tongue;
>without much fanfare, he’s brutally impaling himself in your throat,
>the humming vibration of your moans fueling a pleasure of his own.
>Gosh, you love your Master.