Drinking the Punch Chapter 3

>You wearily creak open the door to your home, removing your jacket and checking your watch.
>Four-thirty. Five hours to the minute – enough time for ice cream?
>You hope so.
>Double-checking the blinds on all the windows in your home,
>you hastily make your way down to the repurposed basement,
>feet pattering against the wide, creaky steps designed for equine legs.
>Feeling along the wall for a second, you flip the light switch to reveal your pride and joy –
>Berry Punch, bound and gagged in the center of the room;
>her  hooves in shackles, and an intricate ceiling-mounted sling holding her abdomen in place.
>You stride over to your favorite pony, examining the milking apparatus suckling her two bloated teats,
>leading by a tube to a transparent glass jar currently containing over half a quart of warm milk.
>You  pet the cerise pony along her withers, sending a shudder through her restrained body;
>her empty cunt is leaking a steady drip of fragrant juices into a second bowl placed beneath her.
>Hmm. You ARE a bit thirsty.
>Kneeling behind her, you push away her tail and slide your tongue up and down her sex;
>tasty, but you’ve got more important things to attend to.
>You walk around and remove her bit gag and cloth blindfold –
“Good evening, Berry.”
>”Evening Master!” she’s quite chipper when she isn’t drinking,
>and you keep her completely sober during her milking sessions.
>Wouldn’t want her missing out on every last second of her time like this, after all.
“It looks like you’ve given me a pint in the last five hours – not bad, not bad.”
>You glance underneath her to the second container.
“And plenty of punch, by the looks of it.”
>Her face brightens into a joyous smile.
>”Really? Um, I know I hadn’t been making enough before –“
“Well, it’s promising, but you still have a ways to go with your milk.”
>A slight look of disappointment flashes across her, but you scratch her behind the ear, saying
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I picked up some lactaid tablets when I was out, they’ll take a few days,
>but the results should ramp up noticeably when the kick in. Anyway…”
>You stand back up and circle around her, examining the metal braces on her hooves,
>the matching collar secure on her neck, and the leather wrap snugly securing the base of her tail.
>Metal spreader bars attached to the braces keep her two sets of legs open slightly wider than a standing posture;
>you had had qualms about taking it this far, but you’ve never seen your slave this happy.
>You power down the suction apparatus and pluck off each suction cup in turn,
>tidying up the equipment before turning back to Berry Punch herself.
>You first remove the spreader bars, and then undertake the labored process of undoing her harness;
>unhooking it from the ceiling and undoing all manner of intricate hooks and straps to free her for the evening.
>Her tail wrap is only removed when you give her a bath; her collar and braces are permanently secured.
>They aren’t that heavy, at least.
“Carry your milk up to the kitchen. I’ll get the punch.”
>”Yes, sir!”
>With a cheery grin, she follows you up the steps with the jar’s handle in her teeth,
>and when you reach your kitchen she places it on a countertop,
>expectantly awaiting her further orders.
>You look at her for a few seconds, and she’s silently staring into your eyes;
>gosh, what a cutie. You take her chin in her hand and briefly kiss her –
“That’s for your good work today. Allow me to prepare dinner and we’ll have some fun later.”
>You walk to the refrigerator and remove a head of lettuce and some tomatoes;
>placing them onto the cutting board, you reach for your cutlery…
>Berry Punch is still sitting there, quietly staring at you as you work.
“What? Go to the dinner table, Berry.”
>Her expression drops, and she glumly trots into the dining room.
>How strange. If she’s reticent to make a request, you’ll be sure to ask her directly what’s up.
>Back to the task at hand – lettuce, cabbage, tomatoes, croutons, and a fried egg for you.
>You aren’t the most creative chef.
>Grabbing the bowl of punch from the fridge, you pour out two tall glasses for you and your slave,
>and carry your meals into the dining room.
>Gosh, just a short time ago that you were shocked by the truth of Berry Punch’s famous booze,
>and now you hardly drink anything she *doesn’t*secrete.
>Handing her a bowl, you take your seat at the head of the table.
>…
>Yeah, not creative whatsoever.
>Berry Punch seems to like it, though.
“So Berry, was there something on your mind?
>She squirms in her seat, but you calmly and insistently repeat your question.
>”I... Master, I want you to restrain me more, all the time, and make my milking sessions longer.”
“Longer? But you’re locked up tight whenever I’m away working.”
>She glances down at her plate, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation and its implications.
>You don’t know how to feel about it, either.
>”It’s not permanent…” she plaintively whispers.
“Berry Punch, you never take that collar off. You don’t even hide it that well when people are around.”
>She remains silent, eyes cast down in shame.
“How often do you want me to milk you?”
>”…”
“Well? Answer your Master.”
>”…I don’t need to be let out to eat…”
>Jesus, she’s really serious about this.
“Berry, do you understand the seriousness of what you’re telling me?”
>”Yes, Master.”
“Hm. Very well, Berry. You’ll be spending the night in your milking harness. I’ll have more tomorrow.”
>Her expression was like that of a child on Christmas morning.
***
>”A WHAT?”
>You smack your hand against your face.
“A corset, with adjustable straps or whatever for tightness... you know this better than I do!”
>Rarity is pacing around the work area of Carousel Boutique’s main room,
>levitating cloth and scissors and needles, seemingly at random.
>It’s six o’clock PM, half an hour after you secured your beautiful slave, Berry Punch,
>in her bindings for the next dozen or so hours, and Rarity clearly only let you in because you’re her friend;
>she isn’t much happy about working after-hours, especially for such an odd request.
>”Well why would you order a tight leather garment without bringing the pony in for a measurement?
“Because… well, because…”
>Just suddenly, an idea pops into your head.
“It’s for Berry Punch, of course.”
>”Mhm. I picked up that much, Anonymous.”
“Yeah, well, she’s um… um, she’s trying to get off the booze. Not good for her figure –
she says she’s a little pudgy from all of it… I don’t see it, of course, but she wanted something to…
pull herself in a little? I don’t know the way a mare thinks.”
>Rarity stares at you long and hard from behind her sewing table.
“She seemed a bit embarrassed about the request – not a lot of ponies wearing corsets these days,
so she wanted me to pick it up instead, and, uh, she must’ve not thought about the measurement thing either.
So… could you just wing it?
>Sweat collects at your brow as you expectantly wait to see if your gambit paid off.
>”Hmm… Berry Punch is pretty average as far as mares our age are concerned.
>I think I can whip something up by Monday –“
“Two hundred bits if you can have it by tomorrow morning.”
>”Two hundred… Anonymous, what deadline could possibly –“
“It doesn’t matter, and I really, really need it. So, uh…”
>You reach through your pockets and count out twenty large coins stamped with Celestia’s mark.
“Here you are. Two hundred, and I’ll pick it up at… seven?”
>Rarity rolls her eyes.
>”This is entirely unreasonable of you, but I’ll oblige. For love’s sake, if nothing else.
>Oh, Rarity. If only you knew.
***
>Berry Punch is sleeping soundly in her restraints; though she’s no longer actively excreting milk or ‘punch’,
>the suction devices on her teats are dutifully pumping away, the feeling likely its own reward.
>You picked up a few additional toys in your round of early-morning shopping,
>trinkets sure to delight your devoted slave as you ratchet up her bondage regimen significantly.
“Berry…”
>Petting her on the head and pulling off her blindfold, you rouse her from her sleep,
>groggy violet eyes slowly creaking open to look into your own.
>You remove her bit gag to allow her to speak.
>”Morning, Master.
“Morning. So, I guess we’ll take half an hour to get you ready, take your meal and your lactaid medicine,
>and then you’ll be all set ‘till the evening.”
>She gives a short and happy nod, and you undertake the process of freeing her;
>unhooking spreader bars, undoing harnesses, and removing her breasts from their suction cups.
>When you’re finished, you’ve got a very tired pony slave sitting in front of you,
>awaiting whatever it is you’ve got in store for her.
“I went to Rarity’s and got you this,”
>you pull the corset out of a shopping bag, showing it to her as her eyes light up in joy;
>it’s a classy, all-black affair, not all that ornamented, but that isn’t the point.
>You order her to stand up, and slip the leather garment over her back, before you get a better idea.
“Berry, stand on your hind legs and grab this –“
>You sling her simple cloth blindfold over the hook for her harness,
>which she is able to hold onto for balance, and to present her entire abdomen unobstructed.
>Pulling the corset around to her underbelly, she audibly gasps – Rarity might not have guessed perfectly,
>but for your purposes, that might just work even better.
>You pull the top flap over the other, and Berry has to suck in for you to be able to snap the studs into place –
>as each tiny steel button is secured, her body is squeezed a little more tight,
>a little more compact than it was meant to be.
>By the last one, her breathing is labored, and as she lets go and falls to the ground,
>she certainly seems more awake, more aware of what’s going on around her.
“How’s it feel?”
>”Tight… I like it, Master. Thank you!”
>She stretches out her legs to feel the extent of the restraint,
>and she certainly seems as skinny as any mare in Ponyville.
>You bring attention to the back of the garment; you’d made a last-minute request with Rarity,
>for an additional hundred bits, to sew on tiny leather strips, almost like belt loops,
>to which you could attach her harness and massively streamline the process of restraining her.
>Next, you pull out something decidedly different – and Berry Punch’s eyes widen into saucers.
>A thick, silicone butt plug, with a tube terminating in a pump and a remote control for vibration;
>you squeeze the hollow ball of the pump and the toy inflates to twice its size.
>Switching on the remote makes the toy buzz to life,
>vibrating in your hand as insistently as it will in Berry’s ass.
>”For me…?”
“Who else.”
>You steal a smooch from the stunned and breathless pony,
>relishing in her surprise and appreciation for all your gifts.
“There’s one more thing…”
>you whisper into her ear, before pulling out a ring gag –
“You’ll be wearing it for quite a long time, and I might need access at a moment’s notice.”
>You step back, examining the beautiful pony before you, and envisioning her in her full bondage regalia.
“Are you ready?”
>A curt nod confirms her assent, and you get to work.
***
>The feast laid out before you would make any man’s mouth water.
>Berry Punch, squirming and writhing in her full restraints – corset, harness, tail wrap,
>butt plug, ring gag,  spreader bars, blindfold, collar and all.
>It’s late at night, and you’ve decided to reward her first full day of bondage with a half hour of intimacy;
>well, the only intimacy she’ll ever know from now on.
>Stroking your cock, you tilt her chin up with her hand,
>before sliding your dick into the warm tunnel of her mouth and throat.
>She hums around it and licks like a gleefully satiated addict –
>perhaps a mouthful of semen would make a good reward down the road?
>But not now. You roughly impale yourself to the hilt,
>pushing her limits of comfort and reinforcing your dominance, just as she craves.
>Pulling out once you’re satisfied, you notice she can’t truly speak in this state; likely as she’s desired all along.
>You walk behind her, playfully stroking the top, unbound portion of her poofy purple tail,
>before leaning down and examining what you’ve got to work with.
>The butt plug is humming along nicely,
>which has brought an attendant increase in the rate and volume of her secretions.
>Hmm. You give her a nice long taste, brushing your tongue against her large,
>fleshy clitoris before lapping up a mouthful of fluid. Delicious as always.
>Hmm…
>You *are* extracting more than one fluid from her.
>A devilish idea runs through your head, and you kneel down further,
>plucking the suction cup from one of her teats and taking it into your mouth,
>just as a spurt of warm, natural milk gushes into your gullet.
>She’s probably moaning or screaming in surprise, but you can’t hear her back here,
>and besides, she’ll learn to love this treatment as much as any.
>Once you’ve had your fill, you snugly replace the hollow suction tube before examining the main course.
>Her vagina is much too valuable to brutalize with your penis,
>but the same can’t be said of its immediate neighbor.
>Deflating her silicone butt plug and sliding it out,
>you catch a handful of fluids and slather them over your cock,
>before prodding at Berry’s expectant butt.
>You leave it there, causing the poor mare to shudder in anticipation;
>stroking along her flanks with your hands, feeling her plush coat,
>she emits a guttural whinny from your torturous ministrations,
>and you decide she’s earned her reward.
>Sliding your cock deep into the pony’s soft and inviting butt,
>you begin to fuck her hole like nothing before it,
>and though her tail and the harness and all sorts of obstructions prevent you from truly mounting her,
>the ride is simply exquisite from start to finish.
>After several minutes of constant thrusting deep into her rectum, you hit your peak,
>and groan as a flood of warm, goopy semen slides into her colon;
>her own orgasm is fierce and… surprisingly messy, far more so than you’d anticipated.
>You guess she really enjoys anal, but the both of your groins are pretty thoroughly soaked.
>Luckily, she happened to fill the punch bowl with the force of it,
>and at least you know for certain she’s enjoying your treatment.
>Once you pull out, you seal in your load with her new butt plug,
>a practice you intend to carry on regularly, before leaning down to her twitching cunt.
>You take a quick slurp from her cherry-tinted folds, before grabbing a towel to clean the two of you up;
>brushing off the moisture from her waist, and inflating her anal plug twice for good measure,
>you grab the full bowl of ‘punch’, give her mane an affectionate rub, and  leave her to her new life.