The trials and tribulations of managing your own personal pony village.
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Thread 28412563 Post 28426930

!F9CBa509ak 2016-09-15 11:35:23 No. 28426930
> Ignoring her plaintive head shakes begging you to halt, your finger descends on the control stud and unleashes a new jolt into her teats.
> Head snapping back and body curving into a spine-arching arch, Corona unleashes a fresh, aching wail.
> That turns to a hiccuping, almost bouncing series of sobs as you snap the prod back and forth between her teats, each subjected to the burning touch of the current in turn.
> And yet, despite her obvious misery, Corona never once tries to kick the prod away or close her legs to protect her most vulnerable spots.
> As if she'd simply given in to being tormented.
> Or, perhaps more likely, was to addled to even give that kind of basic, instinctual response.
> Perhaps a little of both, perhaps-
> A particularly hard jerk of her muscles, and there is the soft sound of fluid spattering off hard floor and a distinctive acrid scent.
> You glance to her back and - yep, Corona had lost control of herself.
> Urine pools behind her haunches, matting her tail.
> Your nose wrinkles as you drop the prod's contacts from her heaving belly.
> The silence that fills in now that her screaming has halted at last seems to have a weight of its own.
> Turning to set the prod down on a nearby table, you catch a glimpse of Eric retreating back a step.
> He'd unfolded his arms, you realize, and taken a step towards you that he was only now drawing back from.
> If you hadn't stopped right then, he had been about to stop you himself.
> Looking back at Corona - her sides still occasionally spasming, although whether it is residual twitches of current or simply her breath catching you aren't sure - a familiar feeling twists your stomach.
> That had been wrong.
> Too much.
> Standing back, you motion to Eric.
"We'll hood her and box her. Wash her down, then leave her to recover from this for a bit."
> Nodding in understanding, he reaches out and starts to undo the clasps holding her forelegs from the bars between them.
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