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Anonpencil writes drunk: Obedience-A Penance Paid (Femanon)

Aug 12th, 2015
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  1. >You always promised yourself you wouldn’t drink when you were sad. By that thinking, coming out to a bar tonight was probably a mistake.
  2. >It’s a promise you’ve been pretty good about keeping since your arrival in Equestria, and you don’t intend to break it for any reason. Well, unless someone died. Then it was ok. That was mourning, that was different.
  3. >No one has died.
  4. >This isn’t mourning.
  5. >You have no excuse, so you’re not going to drink.
  6. >Still…it feels like someone has died, so…does that count?
  7. >You doubt it.
  8. >You scowl down at the thick, frothing mug of cider placed neatly on the bar for you with a hunger and malice you don’t usually display in public. Or around your friends. You’re pretty sure that Applejack has noticed by now how differently you’re behaving, but so far she’s been silent, sipping cider next to you, probably waiting to see what you’ll do.
  9. >You again debate whether it’s fair for you to drink right now.
  10. >It probably wouldn’t help anyway, but…
  11. >You know you made this rule to keep you from overindulging, something you’ve been prone to doing in years past. It’s a safety measure so that you’ll never use alcohol as a security blanket or an emotional crutch when you’re not at your best. So far, it’s worked well for you.
  12. >But then again, you haven’t really had this exact feeling since you’ve been here. The realization of the newness of your mess of emotions hits you unexpectedly, and you barely keep yourself from cringing.
  13. >Damn it.
  14. >Who ever would have thought you’d have your heart broken by a fucking horse.
  15. >Your hand instinctively reaches for the mug with that thought, but you call it back to your side like a disobedient dog. Applejack continues to sit silently next to you, and you doubt she saw the twitching impulse.
  16. >It would be understandable if you had a drink because of all this, right? I mean, it’s not every day you fall in love with a married man (or stallion), have a brief, intoxicating, completely overwhelming fling, then realize you’ve potentially ruined his marriage, have lost a friend, and are now going to be alone. Again.
  17. >And that you’ve hurt someone you’ve come to deeply, earnestly care about. Not to mention the fact that his wife is easily the kindest, sweetest, most gentle person on this earth. You wonder if he’ll ever tell her, and suspect he won’t. She’d forgive him, of course, but he’d probably have the courtesy not to bring your name into things. That would just be one more reason to hurt.
  18. >Never mind that it’s also all completely self inflicted. Never mind that you knew how this was going to go and did it anyway. Never mind that you used him to fill some sort of hole or gap in your life left when you arrived friendless and loveless in ponyville, and now he’s hurting because of your selfish acts. Never mind that he’s probably going to hate you now and come to look back on the wonderful things you did with resentment or disgust.
  19. >No, you asked for all this. It comes with the territory.
  20. >You stifle a self deprecating laugh.
  21. >You’re an idiot.
  22. “You gonna drink that, sugarcube? Or just make angry eyes at it.” you hear Applejack finally pipe up next to you.
  23. >You realize you’ve been inching your face closer and closer to the mug with each passing thought. You’re now close enough where the hot breath from your nostrils forms curling wisps of steam as they meet the cold of the inviting liquid.
  24. “Not sure,” you admit. “Debating.”
  25. >You can almost feel the pony frown next to you.
  26. “Well heck I’ll drink it if you don’t, but what’s the trouble? Something eating at ya?”
  27. “…you could say that.”
  28. >You hear Applejack set down her mug, but still don’t look up from the delicious toxin continually calling your name.
  29. “Is this about that fine young beau of yers that no one’s seen yet?”
  30. >You feel your chest tighten.
  31. “I’ve been meanin’ to ask you about that a while now, whenever you talked ‘bout him. Why so secretive? Do I get to meet this one or-“
  32. “That’s not really a thing anymore,” you say quickly, before she can go on.
  33. >Even hearing her talk about it stings.
  34. >Silence falls. You can hear other patrons rumbling around you about various topics, laughing. You find yourself absurdly hoping that one of them will say his name, mention him in passing, that way he won’t feel so much like a ghost to you.
  35. >No one’s died, you remind yourself. Besides, it’s all for the best.
  36. >You push the mug away from you with a grating sigh and turn your physical attention to your orange friend. You hope your current feelings aren’t showing in your face, but by the look Applejack is giving you, they probably are. Oh good, it’s time for pity.
  37. “I’m awful sorry to hear that,” she says gently, and you know she means it.
  38. >That expression is because she cares about you. It’s because she’s worried. Don’t be too proud to accept a little pity, Anon, even if it makes you feel like shit. You shrug, doing your best to register dispassion.
  39. “Hey, it had run its course. He knew it, and he ended it very kindly and gently and all that. There was no happy ending there for either of us, so this was the right outcome. I just…”
  40. >Nope.
  41. >Stop talking.
  42. >Nothing good can come out of your mouth now.
  43. >Be graceful. Be courteous. Don’t be greedy and pathetic. You know this is the right thing. You just…
  44. “I didn’t want it to end.”
  45. >You hate every stupid word that comes out of your traitor mouth. God damn it. You should be stronger than this.
  46. “Well that’s the way it goes for every pony, darlin,” Applejack says, patting a gentle hoof across one shoulder. “Especially since he made you so happy. Every pony was seein’ how much you were smilin’ and carrying on recently.”
  47. >Please Mouth, for the love of god, shut up.
  48. “Yeah, we were happy,” you say, again unable to force the words back. “At least…I was happy. I think he was happy. I hope he was.”
  49. “If you treated him right, the way you treat ponies like me, he was probably pleased as punch,” she says with a reassuring smile. “No need to worry about that none now.”
  50. >And yet that’s your biggest worry. And well it should be. Silly farm girl, what does she know about love anyway.
  51. “It was worth it though,” you say suddenly, way too brightly. You’re smiling, almost out of impulse now. “Wouldn’t take it back or change it or anything.”
  52. >Unless this ruined a part of his life. Of his wife’s life too. Unless you wasted his time. Unless this hurt he’s feeling because of you never heals. Thankfully, you don’t say it.
  53. “Well that’s good then,” Applejack says, seeming to think you've actually are cheered up a little. “It’s actually kinda impressive you can look at it that way.”
  54. “That do you mean?”
  55. “Ya know, as a positive. As a good life experience.”
  56. >You suddenly feel a new pang of guilt. That you can smile and look strong and have everyone think you’re able to deal with this like a champ when really you have no idea how to emotionally handle this. You feel like such a liar.
  57. “Thanks,” you say, unsure what else you can say.
  58. “Besides, now maybe you’ll be able to get out there more,” she says, downing another swig of alcohol.
  59. “Get out there?”
  60. “Ya know, make new friends, meet new ponies, maybe even fancy a stallion er two once you feel up to it.”
  61. “Are my current friends not good enough for you?”
  62. >It’s meant to be a joke, and you crack your usual crooked smile at Applejack (who is probably your closest if not only friend), but she just fixes you with a withering look.
  63. “I like being yer friend n’ all, and it’s fun bein’ around ya, but from what I’ve seen I’m yer only one. Well, besides Luna. I’d ask what you two talk ‘bout and do when you hang out in her cottage, but I’m honestly not sure I’d want to know the answer.”
  64. >Some part of you both winces and smiles at hearing Luna’s name. You haven’t seen her for a while, and friend is such an unusual word for what the two of you share. Applejack may still feel negatively towards the former princess of nightmares at times, but you’ve found she has her uses, and more than that how she has her uses for you.
  65. >The seeds of an idea, a horrible, devious, and malignant idea begin to plant themselves in your mind.
  66. “Hey, Luna’s nice,” you say, again unsure what other word you could substitute there.
  67. “I’m sure she is, she’s a very kind princess, but she’s creepy sometimes too.”
  68. “Oh come on.”
  69. >The orange pony shrugs.
  70. “Just bein’ honest,” she says lightly.
  71. >You roll your eyes and let out a mildly exasperated sigh.
  72. “Of course you are,” you mutter.
  73. “So…you want to talk more about this whole ordeal you went through with this here colt?” she says, much more gently now. “Might help some.”
  74. >You want so much to talk about this. You want to talk Applejack’s fricken ear off. But as to it helping? You really doubt that would be the outcome. You’ll have to find another way to deal with your feelings of guilt and loss.
  75. >Again, a sinister thought, tugs at the edge of your subconscious.
  76. >Your eyes are drawn back down to the mug of cider in front of you. Your hand is on it now, and you’re not exactly sure when that happened. More than that, as you lick your lips, you find a stinging, sweet alcoholic flavor gracing your tastebuds. When did you take a drink? Was it sentences ago? moments?
  77. “No,” you hear yourself answer her.
  78. “You sure?”
  79. >You blink, then bring the mug again to your mouth for another quick gulp before nearly slamming the mug back down onto the bar. God that feels good…
  80. “Yes.”
  81. >She looks somewhat concerned, and she ventures a gentle cough before speaking up.
  82. “Uh, sugarcube? I thought you didn’t drink when bad things were happenin’ in yer life.”
  83. “Don’t worry, not going to get drunk or anything,” you assure her, and mean it. “Have to be sober, have my wits about be and stuff.”
  84. >You realize you made up your mind what to do minutes ago, and that the knowledge of what tonight holds makes you quake in some inner, most private parts of your being. Applejack still looks worried, but she says nothing and instead opts for another drink. You do the same, much more gently.
  85. >You can’t get drunk, you remind yourself, still feeling your own death-grip on the mug. Luna’s only willing to work with you when you’re sober.
  86.  
  87. ——
  88.  
  89. >Your stumbling trudge through the streets may appear to passersby to be from alcohol, but you know it’s not. Emotional exhaustion has left your steps unsteady, your focus drained.
  90. >Besides, you had promised you wouldn’t get drunk, and you didn’t. You have better tolerance than that at least. Applejack had wanted to walk you home, but you assured her that you were ok, and that the night air might do you some good.
  91. >To be honest, the cold of it stings you, bites at you. It feels heavenly.
  92. >You need to be sober as a saint when you get to Luna’s little summer cottage, you once more remind yourself. No slurring. No burping. None of that. Hell, she might even refuse if she see’s those dark circles under your eyes.
  93. >You respect the level of care she takes when she’s with you, and how cautious she is about working with someone who’s not 100% emotionally sound, but right now the prospect of her turning you down is a little frightening. Where else would you turn? Back to Applejack? To one of the other ponies that you’re less than close to? She was right about you not having many friends, and Luna’s a special friend at that.
  94. >Maybe she’ll be understanding.
  95. >You say a prayer to any powers that be in the hopes she’ll indeed be understanding.
  96. >As you reach the outskirts of town, you spy the thatched and hay roof, the deep blue panted walls, and the topiaries cut into moons and stars that you’ve become so familiar with.
  97. >You’re not sure why Luna so badly wanted a cottage in Ponyville, but her stay during this summer has been much-needed, and she seems happier for it as well. Maybe she needed to get away from an overbearing sister. Maybe she needed to feel less like a princess, more like a normal pony.
  98. >But you think it’s because she needed to be able to flex the part of her that still wants to feel powerful. The part of her that still laments a loss of control, that screams take-charge and be queen of everything. You think she’s tired of being second fiddle all the time, needs to be more, and you can understand that.
  99. >More, you can help with that. And have.
  100. >You straighten your shirt and skirt as you reach her tall, oval-topped doorway. You check your breath and find that it only lightly smells of apples, and thank fuck that you only had that one cider.
  101. >You raise a hand to knock, but it’s scarcely brushed wood before you hear the click of a lock and the door handle begins to glow a deep navy blue.
  102. >You step back as Luna opens the door a crack, then fully, giving you a polite and gentle smile.
  103. “Ah, Anon. I wasn’t expecting you.” she says jovially. “What brings you to my door?”
  104. >You fumble for words, finding them surprisingly difficult. What do you say? How do you explain what happened, what it’s doing to you, what you need from her? As you stand there stammering, her polite smile fades a little.
  105. “Anon?”
  106. “I…” you begin haltingly. “Can I come in?”
  107. >She eyes you warily for a moment, then nods and steps away from the door. You follow her inside, being sure to shut the door and lock it behind you. She always prefers that the doors are all locked. It’s almost completely instinctual now that you lock everything as she likes.
  108. >She motions for you to sit on the black and midnight blue couch, and you do so the moment you see her head move in a nod. She seats herself across from you and once more eyes you cautiously.
  109. “Why don’t you tell me the cause of this little visit?” she says slowly.
  110. “Well…I…lost someone,” you say, unsure how else to put it.
  111. >Her eyes widen.
  112. “Someone passed away? Oh my dear Anon, I am so-“
  113. “No, no not like that,” you quickly correct her. “Just…someone I care about is no longer in my life.”
  114. >She seems to pause, thinking this over, then nods slowly.
  115. “I see.”
  116. “It’s…been hard for me these last few days.”
  117. “I am indeed sorry to hear that. Do you wish to talk about it a little?”
  118. >You shake your head hard.
  119. “No. Not at all.”
  120. >Recognition spreads across her face like a dark rolling cloud.
  121. “Ah. Then…”
  122. “Please,” you say, hearing how pained the word sounds as it comes out. “I can’t just keep my chin up. I can’t make myself smile. Please.”
  123. >You meet her eyes, and they’re cold. Emotionless. Calculating. You feel some primal emotion inside you rupture and begin to bleed into the rest of your body. You suddenly feel so tired and worn down, with that look, like you’re not even a real person, it energizes you somehow.
  124. “Please,” you say, less desperately. “I need this.”
  125. >Luna remains silent a moment, but her gaze never wavers from you. When she speaks again, he voice has changed. It’s silky, drawn out, but icy cold. Ever word makes you feel like you’re being wrapped int he night air outside.
  126. “Have you been drinking?”
  127. “One cider an hour ago. On my honor, I swear. You can check my breath if you-”
  128. “I don’t think you’d lie to me, Anon. I can take you at your word, can’t I?”
  129. “Yes.”
  130. “Yes what?”
  131. >Your chest tightens, your muscles flinch and ache, and what feels like an injection of morphine ripples through your conscious.
  132. “Yes mistress,” you murmur reverently
  133. >You can see a muted satisfaction curl one corner of her mouth. It’s enough to let you know that she’s going to work with you. That she’s going to give you this fix that you need right now. You want to thank her again and again, and you suspect you’ll probably be doing so shortly.
  134. “Shall we do this hear, or would you rather I set a bit of a scene?” she says.
  135. >You don’t hesitate.
  136. “A scene, please.”
  137. “Anywhere in particular?”
  138. >You don’t let yourself say what you really want, where you’d really like to be right now.
  139. “Our usual go-to is fine,” you say, then add. “If you’d like to be nightmare moon as you do it…”
  140. >She doesn’t always want that. She usually likes to be Luna, a monsters, another pony. But on rare occasions she indulges, lets that part of her out some, and becomes the nightmare once more. Something about it is intoxicating to the both of you, and scares you a little. You think being that might sometimes scare her too.
  141. >She again seems to turn the thought over a few times before she nods.
  142. “Very well. Might I assume that you want me to be cruel, then?”
  143. “As cruel as you’re willing to be.”
  144. >Is your voice shaking? Are your cheeks flushed? You must sound like a junkie, you realize, but you can’t bring yourself to care. After all, Luna is smiling having heard you say that. This pleases her.
  145. >Fuck, that knowledge feels so good.
  146. “I’ll get the drink,” she says, lingering over the words. “You make yourself comfortable on the couch, I won’t be long.”
  147. >She pauses in the doorway to the kitchen.
  148. “But remove your shoes before you do. I will not have mud on my furniture. Is that clear?”
  149. “Yes mistress.”
  150. >She nods the ‘good girl’ to you, rather than says it, before going to get that sweet concoction you’ve gulped down so readily many times before. Shen she returns, you’re stretched out across her sofa, feet up, and shoes neatly set side by side by the door. She again gives you the approving smile, and you again feel a roll of pleasure through your body.
  151. >She hands you a small purple bottle that shines with magical light. You open it with nearly shaking hands and pour out three small drops onto a spoon. You give Luna a grateful smile before sipping them quickly down and lying on your back again.
  152. >You feel your body begin to lose hold with reality. You feel yourself fading. Fading.
  153. >Very quickly you lose sensation in your arms. Then your legs. Soon all of you feels floaty and distant, and your head begins to swirl. You shut your eyes, embracing it, as you quickly slip away to sleep.
  154.  
  155. ——
  156.  
  157. >When you open your eyes, you’re exactly where you thought you’d be.
  158. >The dream-tower dungeon is small, but suits your needs as it has before. The small wooden sawhorses are leaned up against one wall. The chains and cuffs line the walls in different heights, arrangements, and positioning. A small cage, barely big enough for you, sits in one corner as a doorstop, with a selection of different implements of torture and enjoyment above it. The windows and doors are locked, and the stone floor feels good below your feet.
  159. >You breathe in the smell of rust, iron, and granite, and you already feel a part of yourself letting go.
  160. >Before more than a moment has passed, Luna materializes in the room with you. Except she’s no longer Luna now.
  161. >A long, undulating mane of stars and smoke descends from her armored head. Her hooves display ornamental shoes, and her chest too has the armor of a warrior across it. Her smile, which she displays for you now, is full of pointed, menacing teeth, and her eyes have become slit-pupiled, like that of a reptile. Her wings adjust into place, long and graceful, and she regards you with an expression of complete malevolence.
  162. >You drink her in like a woman who has been without water for days.
  163. “So young Anon,” she says in a hissing, but somehow booming tone. “You wish to serve me?”
  164. “Yes mistress.”
  165. “Louder, I must be sure that your fealty is indeed all mine.”
  166. “Yes mistress, of course mistress,” you respond readily, being sure it’s loud enough for her liking.
  167. >You hear her laugh somewhere in the back of her throat.
  168. “Well we shall see how you can serve me. What will it be today, you weak and powerless thing? Will you be my furniture, to sit on or rest my hooves on? Will you clean my shoes with your tongue? Or perhaps I will attach you to a carriage and you will pull me through town for all to see how much I completely, utterly own you? Such options, you pathetic creature.”
  169. >You know what you want though. She knows it too. she’s teasing you, you realize. You want her to get to it, get to the point right now rather than making you wait. But at the same time, the anticipation is excruciatingly wonderful.
  170. “Whatever you’d like, mistress,” you say, bowing your head where you stand.
  171. >You again hear her chuckle.
  172. “Well then, I know exactly what I’ll do,” she says in a near growl.
  173. >You hear the hoof falls on the stone floor, a soft rhythmic clip-clop as she approaches you, then begins to slowly circle you. You can smell a faint scent of night lilies encircling her entire form.
  174. “I have had a very stressful week,” she says. “Raising the moon is no simple task, not that I’d expect an insignificant peon like you to know about that. I feel as though I need to work out some of that stress.”
  175. >She pauses in front of you, and you feel a hoof under your chin. She raises her head and you look up into her large, sinisterly smiling face. Oh god yes…
  176. “And you’re going to help me,” she says at last, cooing it to you like you were a pet.
  177. “Y-yes Mistress.”
  178. “Again, louder, no stuttering.”
  179. “Yes Mistress.”
  180. “Very good.”
  181. >She steps back from you and lets your head fall back towards your chest. You can feel it rising and falling faster now as expectant adrenalin fills your veins, offers you the first part of this high.
  182. “Off with your clothes,” the princess says. “No one like you should be more dressed than I.”
  183. >You raise your arms out to your sides and spread your legs. You hold very still as you feel the tingle of magic coat them, encircling each item you have on.
  184. >With an abrupt, loud tearing noise, you feel fabric ripped from your body. You try very hard to keep your balance, remain still, as you feel your shirt become tatters. The waistline of your skirt loosens, rips, frays, and falls away to the ground. The cold air presses in around your skin like it’s clawing at you, as your naked form is slowly exposed before the princess’ watchful eyes.
  185. >As your breasts are exposed, you turn your head away from here, embarrassed. Your cheeks burn with shame at your own nudity, and you hear another laugh erupt from her throat. Soon your panties are in shreds on the ground and you stand before, completely naked and helpless. You feel yourself tremble under her gaze, waiting for her any command.
  186. “Kneel.”
  187. >You do as she bids, not caring how the stone stings as it rises to meet your skin. You keep your eyes downcast in reverence, and you hear her once again approach you. An ornamented, armored hoof crosses your field of vision, and you raise your head a little to look at it.
  188. “Worship me,” she hisses at you. “Worship your queen of the night.”
  189. >Without hesitation, you bend your head and kiss her hoof, gently supporting the underside of it with your palm. She waits as you kiss her hoof again and again, being sure to brush your lips past every jewel, every dusty bit of metal. You taste distant rust and dirt from the stressful day she has mentioned.
  190. >At last, she pulls it away.
  191. “Tell me you adore me,” she commands.
  192. “I adore you.”
  193. “Tell me you are mine to command.”
  194. “I am yours to command.”
  195. “Tell my I may use your body to work out my stresses.”
  196. “…please use my body to work out your stresses,” you say, barely able to keep a tremble out of your words.
  197. >She smiles.
  198. “Very good. Stand.”
  199. >You stand, and she directs you towards one wall. There is a long chain there with a cuff on it, and it rises with the princess’ magic before fixing itself to your outstretched wrist. You then walk towards the other side of the room, till the long chain is nearly taut. You relish the sound of the metal sliding across the floor as you move, of knowing you’re shackled. The other cuff extends, attaches to your opposite wrist, and you feel the two chains shorten, raise, and tighten. Soon, your feet barely brush the floor, enough to support your weight, but barely.
  200. >Once she’s done, the princess stands back to admire her handiwork.
  201. “Good girl,” she says at last, and a shiver runs through your body. “Now stay still.”
  202. >As you dangle there in the center of the room, you can hear her walking about behind you, hear the shifting of things on the wall, and know she’s picking out her first implement. You’re nearly panting now with desire for this, and you quell a soft whimper of pleasure and want as it rises to your lips.
  203. >After what feels like an eternity, you hear her return and stop behind your back.
  204. “Have you readied yourself?”
  205. “Yes Mistress.”
  206. “Then scream pretty for me, won’t you?” she says, the words dancing and ringing like bells.
  207. “Yes Miss-“
  208. >The word stops, uncompleted as the first lash of her whip meets your back. You have to bite your lip to hold back the cry that forms in your throat. Your eyes shoot open, sudden tears of pain welling there, and you bite down hard, till it hurts almost as much as the blow.
  209. “I said scream for me, peasant!” the princess commands.
  210. >This time, when the lash hits you, you scream.
  211. “Good girl,”
  212. >There’s a special feeling when the whip hits you. It’s a cold and crystal clear sensation, like the sound of someone dropping and shattering a porcelain mug. It vibrates through you every time, each time just as intense. The pain, searing and cutting, always gives way directly afterwards to a soft float of euphoria, interrupted over and over with a new blow.
  213. >Your screams come out as animal, unabashed. They catch and whimper and rattle, nothing so beautiful as a calculated moan of pleasure. You give these with abandon, and your Mistress rewards you each time with another turn of the whip.
  214. >Your back feels hot, wet, and you’re not sure if it’s from blood or sweat.
  215. “Are you enjoying this, you pathetic whelp?”
  216. “Yes!” you cry out.
  217. >She gives you another lashing in response, and you feel your knees give way under you. Your chains hold you up, cutting into your wrists painfully.
  218. “Then thank me,” she demands.
  219. “Thank you Mistress.”
  220. “Louder.”
  221. >Another blow. You scream out the words, pained and desperate, this time.
  222. “Thank you Mistress!”
  223. “You are mine.”
  224. >Another blow.
  225. “I am yours!”
  226. “You will serve me.”
  227. “I will serve you!”
  228. >The whip bites your flesh again.
  229. “Good girl. Your body is just what I needed.”
  230. >You’re so happy then. You’re useful, you’re needed. You are a good girl, a simple object or thing meant for nothing but pleasure or use. You are being used.
  231. >…used.
  232. >No. Not now. You won’t let you go there now.
  233. >A whip-crack distracts you from the creeping, horrifying thought. It hurts more now, and you know you’re reaching your pain threshold. You know you can ask her to stop soon, and she will, and then you can just bask in the euphoria of pain and weakness and servitude.
  234. >But…you can take a little more.
  235. >You toss your head back in a cry as the whip crosses your shoulder blade, finding the same exact spot as a previous strike, aggravating the newly-rising welt.
  236. >You’re stronger than that. You can take more. She’s enjoying this after all.
  237. >The lash burns as it hits you, cutting like a blade. Surely you must be bleeding now.
  238. >You’re doing this for her, for her stress, to please her. You can take more for her.
  239. >Another strike.
  240. >You can do this. You can do this for him.
  241. >Him?
  242. >When the whip hits you, the pain it inflicts is mirrored by a sudden wave of pain that flickers deftly and insidiously into your emotions.
  243. >No. Not now. Why now? This is for Luna. This isn’t for him. You try to tell yourself not to think about it, but it’s already there, growing inside you.
  244. >But….you hurt him. You used him. You could have ruined his life, his marriage. You’re being used now, as you should be, because you used him at a risk to his own happiness.
  245. >You are pathetic.
  246. >You aren’t worthy of mercy.
  247. >You can take more. You will take more. For him.
  248. >The force of the next blow makes you grit your teeth with how much it hurts. You feel a line of hot dampness trace down your cheek with the effort of it, and you groan out between set lips.
  249. >More. You can take this. You deserve to be in pain.
  250. >Another blow.
  251. >You can take more for him. You can hurt for him. You love him, you can do this so you can hurt more than he is, suffer more than you’ve made him suffer.
  252. >Another impact, and you cry out, the guilt now apparent in the trembling wail you emit.
  253. >You fucked a married man. You’re immoral, you’re terrible. You loved him and you wanted him and you did all this knowing you would hurt him. Knowing you couldn’t be with him. You were selfish. Suffer for him, Anon. Suffer and know that you brought this on yourself.
  254. >You can barely keep from crying out his name as the next lash crosses your back. The tears flow freely from your eyes. With every hit, you remind yourself what you are, what you did.
  255. >SNAP
  256. >You fell in love with someone you could never have.
  257. >SNAP
  258. >You hurt someone you cared about, just so you could pretend for a little longer that he felt the same way.
  259. >SNAP
  260. >You risked his future. You took away his time. You betrayed the trust of his wife.
  261. >SNAP
  262. >You’re terrible. You’re stupid and cruel and evil.
  263. >SNAP
  264. >You deserve pain. Take more of it, suffer more for him. Suffer till you can’t breathe, till you can’t move. Because you’ll never have him again.
  265. >SNAP
  266. >He’s gone.
  267. >SNAP
  268. >You deserve to be alone.
  269. >The next lash doesn’t come, and you suddenly feel your feet touch the ground. You look up as your chains loosen to find Luna, fully herself, standing before you with a look of concern.
  270. “Anon?”
  271. >You realize with horror that you’re weeping openly, back and shoulders heaving. Without the chains to hold you up, you fall forward onto your knees with a thud, and you crumple around them, letting your naked body collapse sideways onto the stone floor. You’re shaking, and the usual wave of pleasure that surrounds you after a session with luna is replaced by the most intense emptiness you have ever known. You can clearly remember every word you said to yourself, and you instantly hate yourself for wanting him. And hate that he’s gone.
  272. >You feel Luna reaching out to hug you to her, hold you, give you that sweet aftercare she’s so good at. But sobbing, loud choked cries, you push her hooves away and shuffle backwards the grime of the dungeon floor streaking your exposed, reddened flesh. You want to keep hurting. You need to. She stops, eyes registering deep concern, then simply sits beside you, watching you, letting you tremble there alone on the ground.
  273. >You shake uncontrollably, and you wrap your arms around yourself, pulling your knees to your chest. You rock there, trying to recollect the pieces of your broken psyche, as blood from your back and your freely-flowing tears, drip steadily down your body. You even sense that there are cuts not he sides of your wrist, bleeding slightly, from where you strained against your cuffs during the last parts of the session.
  274. >You have no idea how long you lie there, naked, bruised, and bloodied, but at last you run out of tears, and your body stills. You stare then into the ground, and at last you feel the empty spot inside you fill in.
  275. >You’ve suffered now. You needed to suffer for him, and you did. This was a price you had to pay. A weight you didn’t even know was resting on you suddenly feels lifted, and you sigh in relief, though the lack of him still hangs heavy in your chest.
  276. “Are you ready to wake up?” you hear Luna say.
  277. “Yeah,” you say haltingly, your lips feeling cracked and dry. “I think I am.”
  278.  
  279. ——
  280.  
  281. >Luna offers to let you stay there that night the moment you come to. For once, you don't protest.
  282. >When she asks you what happened, you try to explain briefly, without getting too intimate, but you do explain. Considering what she did to you...what you hope she'll still do to you, she deserves an explanation. As you go over what you were saying in your own head during the last part, she frowns at you, openly worried. She tells you that if you want to talk, she’s there to listen. At first you go to refuse, but then you stop and reconsider.
  283. “I…” you say. “I’d…maybe like that. Once I’m able to talk about it more. Thank you.”
  284. >She hugs you, and you let her, burying your face in her soft blue fur like it’s a security blanket. Only then does the euphoria of aftercare really begin to sink in. But even then, it doesn’t feel like you can make yourself smile
  285. >She treats your wounds before bed, noting that she’s never seen them carry over so well to the waking world before. You try not to muse on why that is, and just nod as she dabs on disinfectant to your back and wrists.
  286. >As you fall asleep that night, you stare down at your bruised, cut up wrists, and again feel some satisfaction that you did this. For him. To pay for what happened.
  287.  
  288. >You still have these bruises a few days later, as you see Shining Armor in the marketplace in Ponyville. You stop as you see him, eyes wide, mouth agape, all the emotions you have for him suddenly flooding back. It takes all you have to tell your feet to keep walking, to not look him in the eye as you pass him.
  289. >His wife stands at his side, talking, smiling, being her usual wonderful self. He looks happy, you realize, like nothing in the world could possibly be wrong. And she looks happy too. They’re a great couple together, you note.
  290. >As you’ve almost passed the happy scene, Cadance seems to spot you. She looks up, and calls to you. Without even thinking, you turn and catch her gaze.
  291. “Oh hello there Anon, good to see you!”
  292. >She presents you with a warm, friendly smile. Shining Armor is watching you too, you realize, warily as if watching to see what you'll do. You keep yourself from looking at him, but can’t seem to break away from Cadence’s gaze.
  293. >You stand, caught in the moment for the time being, conflicting feelings swirling like a hurricane in your gut. You can’t…you can’t deal with this, you tell yourself. You can’t make yourself be a normal person in front of this, knowing what you’ve done. But there she is. Smiling at you. Being happy. There they are. Together. As it should be.
  294. >You reach up under your sleeve with one discrete finger to find the welt. With one fingernail, you trace the outline of it, push down on it till you feel the pain ripple through your forearm. Till you hope you’re bleeding from it.
  295. >Only then can you make yourself smile back at her, before turning and continuing on your way.
  296.  
  297. -End-
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