The Neon files; Chapter 1; Choices

								CHAPTER ONE: CHOICES






	The slave pens, a major part of the clocktower. It bustles with activity, slaves crooning and crying out in their cages, begging for a master to take them. Masters trotting around, taking in the sights, the sounds, the smells. Some play with the subs, testing them, teasing them. The night grows steady, but the soft glow of magical torches illuminate the cavernous room.

	A petite neon pony slinks in. A heavy blush adorns his face, eyes glazed. His breath comes out in shallow puffs, each hoof trembling at every step. His long tail, a vivid blue, is braided up, the crystal bell acting as the centre piece for the display, exposing his rump and genitalia. A bejewled plug, with a hole in the center, sits prominently within his tight hole, radiating arousal and need.
	"B-by Luna... why do I feel like this...?" Neon whispers to himself, his ears burning with passion.
He approaches the empty cage, barely able to trot, as each step feels weighed down with lead. A gentle drip sound is heard, as his aching member, unable to harden, dribbles his arousal to the hard floor.
	He unlocks the cage with his wingtips, dextrous little batclaws cloaked in pink feathers easily working the latch. he climbs in and collapses, wheezing. He rests his burning rump against the cold steel bars, almost screaming in pleasure, a string of drool coming from his lips! The puddle of pre grows, the longer he rubs himself against the cold, sterile bars.
	He flares his wings, sharp claws digging into his rump, leaving slightly bleeding scratches as he spreads himself for all to see. The cherry pie aroma cascades off of him, as he rubs and mewls in need. He raises a hind hoof, resting it in a hanging harness, and twists, his head underneath his body in a show of flexibility. He lets his tongue roll out, and begins lapping at the puddle of pre, cleaning like the good slave he is. This draws a few eyes and smirks, a few pegasi enjoying the show from afar.
	His puffs for air come fast and short, sweat beading his forehead. He can't find pleasure lately, feeling a need deep within, like he needs to go further than he has. His mind is addled with frustration and desire. His limp member hangs loose and free, still dribbling away with the succulent juices he produces.
	"P-please, won't somepony rel- nnghh gah~ won't somepony release me from this?" his voice small and fragile, dripping like icicles in the spring thaw.

	He grinds the plug against the cold steel, causing deep, pulsing vibrations to go deep inside his core
his front hooves wobble, the strength being drained, but he holds fast, putting on a passionate display. His claws trace around the metal plug, causing a melodic ringing as he does so, the holes making the interesting tone. There is a lone, large hole leading all the way in, with a slight funnel shape to it.

							-clop... clop... clop-
	The sound of approaching hooves catches the desperate horses attention, as his head whips around. The encroaching presence bring with it, a billowing darkness, snuffing out the magical lanterns of the slave dungeons. The hustle and bustle of the slave pens quiets to a murmur, then stark silence, as the figure makes his way down the aisle, on a mission.
	A black clad stallion, dressed lavishly in a black flowing cloak laced with gold filigree and layered with red satin within, passes pen after pen, not sparing a glance for any creature, that is until he reaches Neon's cage. He stops, without looking.
"you" his voice, baritone and smooth, like fine silk, speaks with authority.
	Neon, face pressed to the cement still, mid lick, lets his eyes slowly wander up. His view is graced with onyx black hooves, adorned with furry white fetlocks. The fur above to the rest of the leg is an abyssal black, all light disappearing.
	"M-me, sir?" He meekly chokes out, his voice barely audible in the heavy silence.

	His eyes continue to explore, but finds there's nothing to see. The fine black cloak obscures the stallion from view, aside from hooves, neck and mask. A fierce, burning orange gem clasps the cloak shut, fire swirling within emitting a dull glow of power. The stallions face is completely shrouded by the mask, an abyssal shadowy aura hiding any features. The mask itself is a matte white, adorned with golden chain. Within various hoops on the chain are colored gems, purple, yellow and an orange gem, symbolizing his passions. There is a plume of feathers on the mask, a shimmering, shifting feather, magically changing throughout several colors.

	Neon tries to choke out a question, to ask who this stallion is, as he stands. But all words die in his throat, as he sees the eyes. A fierce, burning duo of sangria eyes lay behind the mask.The stallion's horn alights with a smooth, powerful emerald hue. Neon is set on his hooves, and a simple chain leash is presented. The hook hovers within his cage, waiting for him to accept the offer.

	Neon becomes all too aware of the silence, save for his pounding heart, the drip dripping of his soft cock, dribbling away onto the floor. His feathers rustle, and he realizes he must make a decision, and make it now.

	Neon takes a steadying breath.... and leans forward, lifting his chin. As he does so, the leash clips around a loop, a spark igniting when it closes, sealing around the loop, no discernible way to remove it. A shocking tingle courses through his body, a chill rocketing down his spine. His knees grow weak, and he shivers, shaking himself out.

	"very good" the smooth voice speaks, dripping with sanguine. Neon nearly purrs at the meagre praise.

							-click.... click... click-
	The emerald magic works the latches to the cage, opening the door. The stallion simply turns and trots away, giving the leash a tug. Not that he needs to, as Neon follows without a word.

	As he follows the strange pony, he feels the eyes of the slaves, and various masters on him, or more... around him, nopony daring to truly stare at the duo, for fear of what fate they may suffer for such a transgression. The magical lanterns ignite as they leave, and slowly the murmuring of the pens restarts, fresh gossip about the strange stallion, and concern for what may happen to Neon.