The Spoils
Slot 2
Winning Bid - $---Bitshift
CompletedAverage turnaround: 6D
Portfolio
Description
Bids (4)
Artist Info
-Auction is for the character in blue.
-SB: $30
-Male only
-Pony, Unicorn, Pegasus or Bat Pony.
-All pieces will be inked and colored. $70 and above gets simple shading and highlights as well.
ETA: 1 week
---------
The Spoils
He had trained and fought in contests for years. The best in his town, and all the towns nearby. Trained and fought and won. Until he had come to the capital, and the Grand Tournament. Most fights were modest in their rewards: bragging rights, a handful of coins. The tournament was more. To the winners, those able to last three fights, a pile of gold and jewels twice as big as any pony. Enough for a lifetime. To the losers, the loss of everything: possessions, citizenship and freedom. Life enslaved to the victor (or to another).
His first fight had been a struggle, but he had forced surrender in the end. His second had been almost pathetically easy. He had turned both ponies over to the tournament to be auctioned off. Only the gold interested him.
He never stood a chance against his third opponent. The massive pony bore down on him from across the stadium, and when they met the "fight" was a blur. He managed a dodge, a block, and suddenly the other pony's kicks found their painful, skull-rattling mark. He sprawled in the dirt with a heavy thud, barely able to move, let alone rise. When the hoof pressed against his head he hesitated only a moment before reaching out with his own, tapping out a shaking surrender on the ground.
He felt the hoof lift, hovering a moment before coming back down to gently press against his neck. A sign to the officials. There would be no auction: this was his new owner. He braced himself, knowing the winners usually put on a "show" for the crowd with their new toys. But the large pony had simply dragged him forward, pressing his nose to his hoof, and told him to lick. And he had done as commanded, humiliated tears burning in his eyes as the crowd cheered. As the taste of dirt filled his mouth, the dreams of riches vanished from his mind like a mirage, never to be seen again.
When the tournament was over and they were back at the winners home, he again expected his new owner to "claim" him fully. But again, the blow was pulled. He would feel up his new slave, or command some long, tender cleaning of his cock and the heavy orbs beneath, but never anything more.
But as the days went by, the new slave felt something strange starting to happen. He would catch himself gazing at his Master for some reason, as if he was fascinating. Trying harder then he needed to when serving. Stumbling over his words when asked questions, and not out of any fear or intimidation. Late at night, he would curl on the mat in the small room he had been given, and start to stroke himself, replaying the day he had lost over and over in his mind. Remembering the taste of the dirt. Remembering his Master's laugh high above. Remembering how he hadn't done anything more.
Wishing he had.
What was happening? Was it something in the food? Some cursed trinket hidden near him? But it didn't matter now. It was already too late. When his Master finally pressed him down against the bed a few days later, there was no resistance. As he grabbed his neck in his teeth, hot flesh pressing beneath his tail, there was no resistance. And as his Master took him, inch by inch, he gave no resistance, even as his body protested. In a few moments the pain melted away to hot satisfaction, thrust by thrust, the slave pony moaning pathetically as his owner took him, again and again.
Many months later, his Master took him on a walk, leashed and collared, through the city. Gradually he started to recognize the surroundings: they were near the tournament. They paused and a small crowd started to gather, laughing and gawking at the piercings now decorating the slave pony.
"Anyone interested in a taste?" He heard his Master ask the crowd, then "Lift your leg for them." Blushing in humiliation he obeyed, giving the crowd a full view of what he had to offer. As he saw a few of the stallions in the crowd already growing aroused, he tried not to stare.
-SB: $30
-Male only
-Pony, Unicorn, Pegasus or Bat Pony.
-All pieces will be inked and colored. $70 and above gets simple shading and highlights as well.
ETA: 1 week
---------
The Spoils
He had trained and fought in contests for years. The best in his town, and all the towns nearby. Trained and fought and won. Until he had come to the capital, and the Grand Tournament. Most fights were modest in their rewards: bragging rights, a handful of coins. The tournament was more. To the winners, those able to last three fights, a pile of gold and jewels twice as big as any pony. Enough for a lifetime. To the losers, the loss of everything: possessions, citizenship and freedom. Life enslaved to the victor (or to another).
His first fight had been a struggle, but he had forced surrender in the end. His second had been almost pathetically easy. He had turned both ponies over to the tournament to be auctioned off. Only the gold interested him.
He never stood a chance against his third opponent. The massive pony bore down on him from across the stadium, and when they met the "fight" was a blur. He managed a dodge, a block, and suddenly the other pony's kicks found their painful, skull-rattling mark. He sprawled in the dirt with a heavy thud, barely able to move, let alone rise. When the hoof pressed against his head he hesitated only a moment before reaching out with his own, tapping out a shaking surrender on the ground.
He felt the hoof lift, hovering a moment before coming back down to gently press against his neck. A sign to the officials. There would be no auction: this was his new owner. He braced himself, knowing the winners usually put on a "show" for the crowd with their new toys. But the large pony had simply dragged him forward, pressing his nose to his hoof, and told him to lick. And he had done as commanded, humiliated tears burning in his eyes as the crowd cheered. As the taste of dirt filled his mouth, the dreams of riches vanished from his mind like a mirage, never to be seen again.
When the tournament was over and they were back at the winners home, he again expected his new owner to "claim" him fully. But again, the blow was pulled. He would feel up his new slave, or command some long, tender cleaning of his cock and the heavy orbs beneath, but never anything more.
But as the days went by, the new slave felt something strange starting to happen. He would catch himself gazing at his Master for some reason, as if he was fascinating. Trying harder then he needed to when serving. Stumbling over his words when asked questions, and not out of any fear or intimidation. Late at night, he would curl on the mat in the small room he had been given, and start to stroke himself, replaying the day he had lost over and over in his mind. Remembering the taste of the dirt. Remembering his Master's laugh high above. Remembering how he hadn't done anything more.
Wishing he had.
What was happening? Was it something in the food? Some cursed trinket hidden near him? But it didn't matter now. It was already too late. When his Master finally pressed him down against the bed a few days later, there was no resistance. As he grabbed his neck in his teeth, hot flesh pressing beneath his tail, there was no resistance. And as his Master took him, inch by inch, he gave no resistance, even as his body protested. In a few moments the pain melted away to hot satisfaction, thrust by thrust, the slave pony moaning pathetically as his owner took him, again and again.
Many months later, his Master took him on a walk, leashed and collared, through the city. Gradually he started to recognize the surroundings: they were near the tournament. They paused and a small crowd started to gather, laughing and gawking at the piercings now decorating the slave pony.
"Anyone interested in a taste?" He heard his Master ask the crowd, then "Lift your leg for them." Blushing in humiliation he obeyed, giving the crowd a full view of what he had to offer. As he saw a few of the stallions in the crowd already growing aroused, he tried not to stare.
User
Bid
Time Left
Bids hidden by artist
1 Comment
Bitshift
Just in case anyone wonders: some bids were removed from this slot by request of the user.
12/24/2020 9:58 am