
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8615188.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      My_Little_Pony:_Friendship_is_Magic
  Relationship:
      Mayor_Mare/Button_Mash
  Character:
      Button_Mash, Mayor_Mare_(My_Little_Pony)
  Additional Tags:
      Kidnapping, Rape, Master/Slave, Femdom, Stockholm_Syndrome
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-11-21 Words: 9269
****** Broken Button ******
by vitalsparkle
Summary
     Humanized version of my story which appears on fimfiction.
  This work was inspired by
      Broken_Button by VitalSpark
“… and that is why, even with a princess in our small town, Ponyville still
needs a mayor.”
Mayor Mare finished her speech and was given a half-hearted applause by a
skeptical audience. It was a tough crowd — they were hard to convince, as many
had been lately — now Twilight Sparkle was a princess, many people didn’t see
the need for Ponyville to continue to have a mayor, suggesting the two roles be
rolled into one, with the Princess of Friendship taking on the mayor’s duties.
Miss Cheerilee patted Mayor Mare on the back. “I’m sorry that didn’t go as
you’d hoped, Mary,” said the mayor’s childhood friend and long time supporter,
trying to comfort the mayor. “Elementary school kids are a very politically
savvy audience these days.”
The mayor sighed and slinked out of the classroom. If she couldn’t convince a
class of school kids, what hope did she have when Celestia and Luna sent their
representatives next month?
She sat on a bench in the playground outside the school house, and rested her
head in her hands. What she needed was a little stress relief.
                                       *
Half an hour later, the school bell rang. Button Mash half-ran out of the
building, excited to get back home and play the latest addition to his vast
video game collection. He pushed past the new kid dressed in black and white
with bright pink hair while hurrying out of the school gates. She didn’t say
anything about being pushed — she never seemed to say anything anyway.
Even if he hadn’t been distracted by dreams of blasting away zombies, Button
probably wouldn’t have noticed the wisp of grey hair poking out from the tree
just around the corner from school, a block from his house. After the hand shot
out and clamped a dirty but sweet-smelling rag over his mouth, his vision
started to spin and soon he noticed nothing.
 
Button Mash became aware of a pain in his back. Not a sharp pain. Not even
really a pain, he supposed. It was a dull I-haven’t-been-sleeping-in-a-very-
comfy-position kind of a feeling. He tried to get into a more comfortable
position but found he couldn’t. What was stopping him? He couldn’t tell; he
couldn’t see. He couldn’t see anything! Why was it so dark? Had his mum
forgotten to put his nightlight on? He tried to remember bed time. He couldn’t
remember bed time. He couldn’t remember anything about yesterday afternoon.
He’d been at school… he’d been going home… and then… nothing.
Button tried again to get into a more comfortable position. He was bent over,
his knees on the ground, and his face pressed against the floor as well. His
cute little butt was raised high in the air. His arms were underneath him, not
supporting him but between his legs. He tried drawing them up so he could get
onto all fours but found he couldn’t — straps dug into his wrists, binding them
to his ankles.
What was going on? An image came to him: Mayor Mare’s face. The sweet-smelling
rag. The world spinning. Then nothing.
“Hello?” he called out.
No response.
Why couldn’t he see anything? Even with the lights out, his eyes ought to have
adjusted by now. That was when he became aware of the presence of a length of
fabric tied around his head, passing over his eyes. In his groggy half-
wakefulness, it had taken him a while to notice he was blindfolded.
He did a quick mental inventory. There was the blindfold. No gag, it seemed.
His wrists were strapped to his ankles… felt like leather. There was something
around his neck too… more leather? His legs also seemed to be bound to the
ground, slightly apart, making it impossible for him to lie on his side or
shuffle across the floor.
Button Mash began to suspect that he might have been abducted.
“Help!” he called.
His voice echoed off the walls.
He continued to scream until his throat was sore, but nobody came.
He lay waiting.
 
Button Mash woke up. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep. His situation
didn’t seem to have changed — still bound and blindfolded on a cold stone
floor. But something felt different — he felt a presence in the room. He
couldn’t hear anybody, certainly couldn’t see anybody, but nonetheless he was
sure that somebody was there.
“Hello?” he whispered, hopeful.
Foot steps crossed the floor, confirming his suspicions.
“Help?” he implored, though he knew whoever was there likely wasn’t here to
help.
He heard it before he felt it: a swish through the air. His thigh felt like it
had been set on fire, the impact feeling hot against his skin, and he screamed.
He didn’t know what he’d been hit with but it felt broad, like a paddle, the
back of a hair brush, or a table tennis racquet. Didn’t make a lot of
difference what it was, it hurt like hell.
Another swish, another excruciating blow to his rear end. When had his shorts
been removed? He wasn’t sure. Wasn’t important right now. He cried out again,
but his screams of pain just echoed off the walls.
“Why?!” he wailed, but got no answer other than another smack.
After a few minutes, his screams for help had turned into resigned sobbing and
his invisible assailant finally gave the broken boy some peace. Foot steps
receded out of the room and he was alone again.
Button Mash lay crying, his thighs and buttocks feeling black and blue — he
wouldn’t be able to sit down for days… not that he could sit down with these
restraints anyway. He felt hunger pangs and heard his stomach rumble. How long
had he been here?
“Why me?” he choked into the darkness.
 
Button Mash woke again. He didn’t even have a clue whether it was day or night.
All he knew was that He was there — the mysterious man who had kidnapped him.
Button hadn’t heard His voice or seen His face, but Button knew his life now
revolved around His will.
“Can I… can I have something to eat?” Button asked nervously. He was thirsty
too, but drinking in this position… it didn’t seem possible.
Swish. Smack. Pain. Tears.
Button decided to keep quiet.
Minutes passed. He was still there; Button knew it.
Button heard footsteps circling around him. They came to a stop near his rear
end.
Without warning, a jolt of pain shot up his spine. Something large, thick, was
being forced into his anus. Button screamed as the smooth object tore him open,
or at least felt like it was. This was supposed to be an exit hole, not an
entrance, he had thought everyone knew that.
Button squirmed, trying to escape the invading object but with his hands bound
near his ankles and strapped to the floor, he didn’t have a way out.
He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth; the thing, whatever it was, was
going deeper. What was it? It wasn’t the man’s cock — it didn’t feel warm
enough to be that… not body temperature… room temperature. It could have been
anything: a broom handle, a chair leg, a flag pole. Whatever it was, it was
solid, not soft, it was thick, and it hurt like Tartarus.
Button sighed with relief when he felt the man start to withdraw the object
only to scream louder with fresh new pain as it was rammed back into his
rectum. He thrust the object in and out of Button’s butt with seemingly no
concern for the pain the captive boy was so obviously suffering.
After minutes, the pain turned to mere discomfort, Button’s anal ring having
adjusted to the girth of whatever thing it was penetrating him from behind.
Whatever damage it was doing to him — whatever tears and bruises it was leaving
on his insides — it was already done, and now his rectum could accommodate the
phallus.
Button groaned and relaxed when the He finally pulled the object out with a
squelching sound that echoed off the walls of the room. Button heard footsteps
as He circled the room, seemingly studying the young boy from every angle.
Button felt a yank on his neck. The collar that he’d forgotten he was even
wearing, he’d grown so used to it, was being tugged to raise his face from the
floor with some kind of leash. His face had been pushed against that cold stone
surface for so long, that when He lifted it, Button felt pins and needles as
blood rushed back into his numb flesh. His neck was now strained at an
uncomfortable angle.
Something was pushed against Button’s lips. Though he couldn’t see it, he
quickly deduced exactly what it was. From the smell, Button knew that he was
being presented with the tip of whatever had penetrated him.
Button Mash closed his eyes — a futile effort due to his blindfold — and shook
his head. He felt a hand on one cheek, steadying his head. The object was
pushed harder against his lips. Button took a deep breath through his nose,
realizing he wasn’t going to be given a lot of choice in this. He parted his
lips and wrapped them around the object.
In his mouth, it didn’t feel as unreasonably large as it had when inserted in
the other end, but that certainly didn’t make its presence any more welcome.
The rubbery surface was coated with a thin sheen tasting of Button’s own
faeces, in all probability mixed with a bit of blood.
He moved the dildo in and out of Button’s mouth, Button doing his best to clean
every inch of it, as he imagined that would please Him. Perhaps if he did a
good job pleasing Him, Button would be allowed to go home.
The man became increasingly enthusiastic with the dildo, for that was what
Button supposed it was, thrusting it in and out of Button’s mouth. When the tip
hit the entrance to his throat, Button felt himself gag — he was sure he’d have
been sick if there had been anything in his stomach.
After a few minutes’ violent throatfucking, during which Button’s feelings
varied from resigned tolerance, to panic at not being able to breathe,
experiencing everything in between, He had seemingly had enough, and took the
dildo out of Button’s mouth. Button heard something thud on the floor, and
assumed that the dildo had been discarded.
The leash or rope that was attached to his collar was released, and Button once
again rested his head on the ground.
“Please… sir…” Button croaked, “can I have some food?”
There was no response for a few moments, then Button heard His footsteps leave
the room.
Button closed his eyes and began to cry, until just a few moments later, he
heard Him return. Button couldn’t believe how this man… this monster… returning
had filled him with a sense of relief — he wasn’t being abandoned to starve.
Button felt something at his lips once more, but it wasn’t the dildo. It was a
bottle. Button drank greedily from the bottle, though in his current position,
more ended up on the floor than going down his throat. Still, the refreshment
was more than welcome.
When the bottle was finished, and Button had swallowed his last mouthful,
Button heard the footsteps leave the room again. His stomach rumbled while he
waited for Him to return with the food.
 
Button Mash woke again. The next day? Maybe. Button had no way of keeping track
of time other than the growing pain in his stomach. How long had it been
without food…? Could have been a couple of days… maybe as long as a week.
Button could feel something moving between his legs. Something brushed against
his skin… it felt like a towel… slightly damp. This must have been what had
woken him.
A smell reached Button’s nostrils. Urine… stale urine… oh…
Button cringed. He hadn’t wet his bed at home for months now. But still, the
circumstances here were rather different. He had drunk a lot of water the night
before and didn’t exactly have easy access to toilet facilities.
Somehow he knew that this would anger Him, so Button began apologizing at once.
“I’m s–sorry, s–sir,” Button stammered.
A voice from behind him sighed softly… the first vocalization that Button had
heard from Him. Button filed the sound away in his memories… he wanted to learn
more about Him — the man triggered Button’s curiosity. What was He like? Why
was He doing this… beyond the obvious sexual thrill?
Soon He was finished clearing up Button’s mess. Button couldn’t understand the
feeling of deep shame he was experiencing. He was sure that his cheeks were
bright red. He kept mumbling apologies to his captor and master.
The man didn’t respond. Button heard His footsteps circle him. The next thing
Button heard was a familiar swish and he automatically tensed up, even before
the impact.
Button howled with pain. “I’m s–so sorry, s–sir,” he choked through tears.
His only response was another spank to Button’s sore left buttock. A further
eight smacks, ten in total, followed while Button cried, begged, and bargained
with his master. The fear, the pain, the shame, the humiliation, the knowledge
that he deserved this, deserved it for making his master clean up his vile
piss… it was almost enough to blot out the feeling of hunger in his stomach.
Finally, the violence stopped. Button caught his breath, sniffed, and waited
while the tears on his cheeks dried. He was doing nothing — not walking away,
not torturing the young boy in any way — just waiting, it seemed. Button felt
almost… content. He’d done wrong, making that mess… but he’d been punished, and
now he felt… cleansed.
The next sensation Button felt was unexpected. A hand closed on his erection…
wait… since when did he get an erection? He wasn’t sure, but the feeling of
those fingers on his cock was more than welcome.
Button was still only a young boy but the gamer had played with his own
joystick enough to know how good it could feel. He just wasn’t sure why
suddenly He was doing something… nice for Button… surely Button didn’t deserve
anything nice… after the mess he’d made.
The boy felt the hand moving slowly up and down the length of his shaft,
sliding his foreskin over his glans and back down again. He shuddered and
sighed, rocking his hips against the hand, urging his new master to go faster.
The hand tightened its grip on Button’s hard cock, pumping it firmly at a
regular, steady pace, neither speeding up nor slowing down. Despite his partial
dehydration and almost total starvation, Button managed to create a puddle of
drool on the floor by his mouth and find the energy to hump his master’s hand
with fervid enthusiasm.
Another hand caressed Button’s little ball sack, making Button twitch with
excitement. A certain familiar tension started building up at the base of his
cock — one he’d experienced on his own at home before but never at the hands of
another person.
Button rutted the hand with obscene carnal desire. He was stuck in this shitty
dungeon or basement or whatever, and didn’t have a clue when he’d get out… if
he’d get out… now he was being given this one chance at pleasure… one chance at
happiness… he was going to put everything he could into it.
He bucked his hips, arching his back to press his shaft harder against the
hand. The tension inside him grew; he knew he was climbing a peak towards the
release he desired. Desperate pants and moans came from his mouth; pre-cum
leaked from his cock.
His master stopped holding back. Button felt the hoof increase its speed. He
knew his master could read his desire on him as if he were an open book. His
master was, for some reason, choosing to reward him.
His master was the only thing on his mind when he gave his final hard thrust
and shot a load of cum over the still pumping hand.
The hand slowed down, moving lightly and gently over the length of Button’s
shaft, making Button shiver at every tiny motion. His breathing became slower
and less intense as he began to recover from orgasm.
Button felt the hand wipe the rest of his cum on his bare butt, then heard
footsteps recede.
Button wondered where his master had gone.
Button felt a sense of relief when he heard footsteps approaching him again.
The sounds circled around until they were right in front of him.
All of a sudden, he smelt the smell of delicious freshly-baked bread. Food!
Though he still couldn’t see, he knew it was right in front of his face. He
opened his mouth and eagerly started eating. Though it was on the floor, in a
puddle of his own drool, it was bread, fresh buttered bread. It was food and it
was good.
“Eat up. You’ve earned it,” came a voice… a female voice. Master must have sent
a servant to feed him… maybe another captive like him — a captive that master
trusted to be free from physical chains.
But Button didn’t need encouragement. Button ate.
 
Button woke from a dream where he and this female captive had hatched a plan
and escaped. He couldn’t remember all the details but it had involved acquiring
a number of 1-Up Mushrooms. He thought it unlikely that the plan would be
workable in real life.
The towel was once again at work between his legs, but to Button’s shame he
realized the smell was a lot worse than mere urine.
He started begging for forgiveness straight away. “Please, s–sir, I’m s–sorry,
sir… it was your… your maid… she brought me food yesterday… and I’m very
grateful, sir, for the food. I appreciate it. I was so hungry… I needed it.
But… there’s n–no b–bathroom here, s–sir.”
Button thought he had made a good case for his defence, but wasn’t sure how
forgiving this man was. Button heard the man stand up and walk away, but he
soon returned.
A swish through the air heralded a firm spank to Button’s rear. The impact
pushed him an inch across the floor — as far as his restraints would let him
move — painfully grating his chin against the stone surface.
“Owwww!” Button cried, tears starting to roll down his cheeks almost
immediately. “Please, please, sir… I’ll try harder.” He sucked in his breath,
preparing for another impact.
And another impact came. And another. And another. After twenty or so smacks
across his buttocks, he was sobbing uncontrollably, in too much pain to beg any
longer. He was sure his butt would be severely bruised… painful to sit on, not
that he could sit with his restraints as they were anyway.
Finally, the beating stopped. But Button’s tears didn’t stop flowing. His
breathing was laboured. He sniffled, trying to stop his nasal mucus running
down his face.
He snapped to attention though when he felt a familiar object being placed at
his anal opening. “No!” he begged, but his captor was not sympathetic.
Button squealed as the shaft stretched his opening wider than a young boy’s
opening was ever designed to be opened. He whimpered, knowing that no amount of
complaining could change his master’s mind.
Once the object had penetrated him deeper than he thought possible, he was
surprised to feel a hand on his cock. He was even more surprised to realize —
he hadn’t noticed before — that his cock was rock hard.
The hand rubbed his cock up and down, and the dildo or whatever it was in his
butt started moving at the same rhythm.
While the object in his rear was undoubtedly uncomfortable, part of Button
actually liked the feeling of fullness it gave him. The discomfort was
certainly not enough to distract him from the pleasure the hand on his shaft
was giving him.
Button started bucking his hips, not only pushing against the hand pleasuring
his cock, but pushing back against the phallus in his rear, pushing it deeper
inside him. His breaths started becoming laboured again, this time not because
of pain and crying, but because of pleasure.
A tension started building up in his balls. He knew that his orgasm wasn’t far
away. Button moaned. “F–Faster,” he begged.
His master responded, picking up speed and thrusting the object harder and
faster into Button’s rear end. Button groaned in satisfaction. It wouldn’t be
much longer.
The young boy thrust his hips one final time, hard against the hand. He sighed
and shuddered, allowing the tension down in his loins to be released. A squirt
of cum shot out of the end of his cock and onto the stone floor below.
An exhausted Button Mash would have collapsed were it not for his restraints.
He felt the phallus being slid out of his butthole and for a few moments he
felt a refreshing coldness inside him as his anus gaped, allowing in fresh air.
“Th–Thank you,” he muttered, genuinely grateful for the relief his master had
provided him. After what he’d done last night, the mess he’d made, he knew he
didn’t deserve such pleasure. His master was clearly very forgiving.
Button heard footsteps on the floor. He prepared for the inevitable throat-
fucking. Though he didn’t enjoy this last time, he at least felt prepared for
it this time. He wondered why his master didn’t use his own cock for this duty,
instead relying on the dildo — throat-fucking the colt with an inert piece of
rubber brought neither of them any physical pleasure. Button sighed inwardly as
he realized the most likely explanation — his master didn’t yet consider Button
to be worthy enough. Button resolved to do better this time.
Button felt something at his lips and obediently opened his mouth. However, his
tongue was surprised to be greeted with a juicy red apple. Button crunched down
on the food, and his master, or his master’s servant — whoever was feeding him
— rotated the apple slowly, allowing him to take bite after bite of it. Juice
dribbled down his chin, but Button was so grateful to have something to eat,
that he didn’t even think about it. After the apple, he was given a slice of
buttered bread again.
One apple and two slices of bread wasn’t a lot to eat in… how many days was it?
A week, perhaps. Having finished this slice of bread, he was still hungry, but
not starving. He could survive on this level of food if it kept coming.
“S–Sir…? Ma’am…? Will I get food tomorrow?” he asked into the darkness.
A female voice replied. “You get food every time you cum.”
“I—” Button started, but didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “Yes, ma’am.”
A bottle of water was held again to his lips. He drank down what he could,
while a lot spilt on the floor. He knew he’d have to sleep on that patch later,
but this seemed like a small thing to complain about — he was just thankful he
was being given water.
Button heard feet leaving the room and then a few moments later approaching —
the same person? He wasn’t sure how many there were — there was his master;
there was the woman who had fed him, the only one he’d heard speak — maybe
others serving his master too.
The feet came to a stand-still near his rear end. Button felt a mixture of
dread and excited anticipation at what might happen next.
CLANG! There was a clatter of something hollow and metal on the stone floor
behind him. This was followed by a scraping sound of the same metal object
being pushed along the floor.
“Piss,” said a voice. The familiar female voice.
“Wuh–uh?” Button stammered.
“You are being given an opportunity to ‘make potty’. Don’t waste it. You might
not have another chance for a while.”
“Can I h—” Button didn’t finish the rest of the sentence. In his position,
asking for a little privacy seemed almost comical. Instead he concentrated and
soon a stream of urine was splashing into the metal bowl the woman had slid
between his legs. It felt strange doing this in front of someone else, but he
didn’t exactly have a lot of choice. Better this than being beaten tomorrow.
Soon he was done, the bowl was slid out, the footsteps receded again, and
Button was once more alone. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there before falling
asleep.
 
Button woke up. He assumed it was the next day. Again there was activity
between his legs, though he was fairly sure he hadn’t disgraced himself this
time. He made a mental note to thank his master for letting him use the potty
the previous day.
So what was happening between his legs? He wasn’t quite sure until he felt
something warm and wet envelope his cock; something with teeth; a mouth. A pair
of lips, wrapped around his flaccid, but now rapidly hardening member.
Button had read about things like this in magazines — the kind of magazines he
wasn’t supposed to have access to. A woman would put a man’s cock in her mouth
and suck. Didn’t take a genius to figure out how good that would feel.
But whoever was doing it to Button seemed to be doing it wrong. They weren’t
sucking; they weren’t doing anything; the mouth was just… there.
Button waited for the sucking to begin.
Nothing?
Not even some licking?
Button wasn’t sure what the owner of the mouth was thinking. He’d never be able
to cum this way, and no cumming meant no food.
“P–Please… can you make me cum?” Button asked.
There was no response.
“Please, I need to cum!” he begged.
Still nothing.
An idea formed in his mind. Button drew back his hips, withdrawing his shaft
almost all the way out of the mouth, then thrust them forwards. Ooh! That felt
good. Better than the hand. The owner of the mouth didn’t seem to complain.
He repeated his experiment; this time a little bit faster, a little bit harder,
a little bit deeper. Still no complaints. Again, faster, harder, deeper,
burying his shaft all the way to the hilt, the tip of his child-sized cock
hitting the back of the mouth.
Button thrust into that mouth over and over, harder and harder. The mouth never
made any attempt to help him — there was no licking, no sucking — Button could
almost believe it was a fake mouth, a realistic sex toy, if it were not for the
regular warm breaths he felt on the underside of his shaft from a pair of
nostrils, and the occasional involuntary swallows he felt when the head of his
cock struck the back of the throat.
Soon Button could feel the approach of his orgasm, and he rode that mouth with
no holding back. A few times, he heard the woman (or man? girl? boy? It didn’t
really matter to Button) choke and gasp for air, but he didn’t let that stop
him, or even slow him down. If anything, it encouraged him to ride harder,
because surely that was what his master wanted — his master wanted him to cum;
his master would reward him for cumming; his master wanted him to use this
mouth, this throat as merely a tool to help him cum.
Button gave a final thrust of his hips, forcing his cock down the throat, and
ejaculated inside with a groan. A hand hurriedly pulled his cock out of the
mouth, and he could hear a lot of coughing and spluttering from between his
legs. He hadn’t really considered the effect of cumming directly into a throat.
Oh well; Button just did what his master wanted — the effects of those actions
were for his master to worry about, not Button.
Button lay panting on the floor, and had barely recovered his breath when
another juicy apple was shoved into his mouth. A delicious apple like this
deserved to be savoured and enjoyed slowly, but Button had been kept close to
the point of starvation for too long to be concerned about that. He ate the
apple greedily like last time.
Having finished the apple, he waited for his bread, but unexpectedly the bottle
of water was held to his lips instead. Button slurped down the water, spilling
a little less than last time, getting used to drinking in this unusual
position.
After the water was all gone, Button nervously spoke. “Is there any bread
today?”
“No,” came the response. The same female voice as before.
Button thought about asking why not, but knew he shouldn’t question his
master’s wisdom. If his master wanted him dead, he would be dead. He knew his
master would feed him enough to live.
But that didn’t help the rumbling in his stomach go away.
 
Button awoke the next morning, or at a time he assumed was the next morning. He
wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he could sense a presence in the room. His
master was there.
He sniffed the air. Good. No smell that would indicate he’d had another
accident.
Footsteps confirmed his suspicions. His master, or one of his master’s servants
was present. He wondered what treatment to expect. Another handjob? The dildo?
Both? Button would gladly ensure whatever his master had in store for him, even
though it sometimes hurt, because his master fed him and cared for him.
After a few minutes wait, Button coughed. He was sure his master would never
have forgotten he was there, but a little reminder couldn't hurt. Perhaps
whatever his master had planned required a lot of preparation.
A few more minutes and nothing happened. “Master?”
Footsteps receded.
“Master?”
Button waited patiently.
“Master?!”
His stomach rumbled.
 
Button woke up, his stomach in pain with hunger. He was sure his master was
already there. His master liked watching him sleep, it seemed, or at least
liked watching him wake up.
“Master, please? I've been a good boy. Please let me cum.”
There was no sound in response.
“You can hurt me… if you want. You can hit me.” Though if course, Button knew
his master didn't require permission. He was his master’s plaything. A toy for
his master’s amusement. His master could use him how he saw fit, or apparently,
as yesterday, not at all.
Footsteps circled around him.
“Master?”
Button felt plastic by his mouth and drank greedily from the water bottle
offered. Very little ended up on the floor this time. Drinking this way was
normal for Button now. He had it down to a fine art.
Button heard footsteps leaving again. “Master?” he called. “Master?! Master!
Don't ignore me!”
Button burst into tears.
 
Button woke up to the familiar smell of urine and the sound of the floor being
scrubbed. It was strange, but he was actually happy that he’d had an accident
overnight — at least his master would be forced to give him some attention
today.
Last time he’d been spanked, he’d ended up getting fucked with the dildo
straight afterwards while being given a handjob. If that happened again, he
would surely be given some food today. Even without the handjob, Button thought
that if he really concentrated, he might be able to cum just from anal
stimulation — it had certainly excited him a lot the last couple of times.
Whoever had been cleaning up Button’s mess seemed to have finished now, and
Button heard footsteps. They weren’t heading out of the room though, but
towards the corner, where Button suspected his master’s various toys were kept.
The feet returned, circling around to Button’s rear end. Button bit his lip and
braced himself for what he knew was coming.
Swish! Smack! Button cried out as his buttocks burned with pain. Inside though,
he felt satisfied to be receiving his master’s attention, having been virtually
ignored for two days.
Smack! Another impact ripped through him. His master wasn’t holding back. This
was the hardest spanking he’d had yet. Only the second spank and tears were
already running down his cheek.
A third spank followed, and a fourth, each one eliciting a cry of agony from
the young boy. Each whack of the paddle seemed to open up new pain pathways in
his brain. Button experienced torment of kinds he’d never previously known
existed.
By the tenth spank, not only was there a puddle of tears forming on the ground,
but mucus was dribbling from this nose, a bubbly, sticky mess running down his
face, over his lips and chin and into the tear pool beneath his face. After
several minutes more crying, he sniffled while panting and trying to catch his
breath.
Button hadn’t heard the footsteps walking away from him, but towards the end of
his punishment, his senses had virtually shut down. There was no sound, no
smell, no taste… just cruel torment. Because he’d heard no footsteps, he wasn’t
even sure his master was still there — was he alone in the room already?
“Master…?” he called out hesitantly, once he was finally in a state to talk.
“Master?”
His own words echoed to him off the walls.
“Master… I… I just need to cum,” he whimpered.
There was still no response.
Button started crying again, not from the physical pain he’d been put through,
but from the emotional pain of being ignored by his master.
“Please master, fuck me! I’ll… I’ll do anything… just… please…” His words
trailed off. What was the use? His master had already left.
Button lay slumped on the floor, crying. After he didn’t know how long, he
sighed and decided to try to get some sleep.
Footsteps came from the corner of the room, headed towards where Button knew
the door was. What? Master was here?!
“Master!” Button shouted with a new sense of urgency. “Master, fuck me! Please,
fuck me!” he begged.
But it was too late. His master was gone. This whole time, his master must have
been here, watching Button cry.
Tears formed in Button’s eyes again. It was a shame his master was going to
miss the encore performance.
 
Button woke up. He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he sensed it was late at
night. His master wasn’t present… or didn’t seem to be. And he felt more tired
than usual… a sure sign he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep yet.
For many people, it would be the discomfort of their bindings that would have
kept them awake in Button’s situation. Collared, blindfolded, his legs
obscenely stretched apart by a spreader bar, which his arms were also bound to,
lying face-down on a cold stone floor… it was not a position that most people
would first conjure to mind when asked to imagine comfort. But no, Button had
gotten used to this position on the first night.
No, what had woken Button was hunger. Not mere every-day hunger, but an all-
consuming starvation, a ravenous yearning, a tormenting ache that spread beyond
his stomach to his very soul: to put it simply, he would have preferred if he’d
been fed that day.
He almost wished for another spanking like the one he’d recently received… at
least the pain in his buttocks would distract him for a while.
After time, tiredness claimed him again, and he drifted off to sleep.
 
Button awoke. He was sure he couldn’t have been asleep long — he wasn’t sure
how he’d even managed to sleep at all with this pain in his stomach. He hadn’t
eaten for… what… four days? Five? All the days seemed to blend together,
sleeping, waking, begging his master to fuck him and feed him. Wanting nothing
more than a full anus and a full stomach.
Almost as soon as he was awake, he heard the sound of feet walking nearby.
Perhaps that had even been what had woken him to begin with. “M–Master?” he
asked weakly. The feet circled around to stand in front of him. “Master… can
you…? do you think we could…? will you fuck me today?”
There was no answer for some time, and then suddenly, and most unexpectedly,
Button felt a pair of hands on his face, lifting his blindfold.
Was this it? Was… was he being rescued? Button’s heart skipped a beat.
Light streamed into his eyes, blinding him. He’d never imagined this was a
well-lit room; he’d imagined it as a basement, a dungeon. But it was so bright
that he could see nothing but pure white.
As his eyes began to adjust, Button started to see the logical contradictions.
Why would Button’s rescuers wait until he’d begged to cum to remove his
blindfold?
Why hadn’t they untied him?
Why hadn’t they spoken, to try to reassure him?
As he pondered these questions, his eyes began to focus on a face in front of
him… a familiar face… the face of a person who had been at his school the day
he was taken. School… his old life… it seemed so distant. What is her name…?
“M–Mayor Mare?!” Button stammered.
Mayor Mare works for master? No, that still didn’t make sense. Button started
to piece things together… scents… sounds…voices…
“You are my master,” Button stated matter-of-factly.
Mayor Mare chuckled softly. “I normally prefer ‘mistress’, but… ‘master’… I
think I like that.”
For a few moments, the two looked at each other, Button inspecting his master,
his captor, for the first time, reassessing everything he’d thought he’d known
about her, and Mayor Mare finally being able to look at her new toy’s pretty
eyes, seeing the sparkle in the amber orbs of the colt she’d broken down and
turned into her plaything.
The silence was eventually broken by Button. “M–Master…?” he asked.
“Yes?” she replied.
Button looked up pleadingly from the stone floor, his eyes like those of a dog
begging for attention. “Master, please may I cum?”
The mayor smiled. Button’s eyes followed her as she walked to the corner,
picking up a paddle that Button instinctively recognized as the one his
buttocks had been beaten with several times since his arrival. Made of a dark
polished wood, and about six inches wide, he may not have ever seen it before,
but the paddle was as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.
Button shuddered with anticipation, his small cock beginning to harden. “Do I
need punishing, master?” he asked, giddy with the thrill of finally earning his
master’s attention. Wordlessly, Mayor Mare circled around behind Button Mash.
Button gritted his teeth in preparation for the pain to come.
Button’s master dragged the paddle over his bare butt heightening Button’s
sense of anticipation and nervousness. Button looked back at her, his eyes
still pleading for attention. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the mayor
raise the paddle higher.
Swish! Smack! The paddle came down and Button’s rear end with a satisfying
sting. Button sucked in air through his teeth, preparing for the next impact —
an impact that didn’t come, or not for a while.
Mayor Mare knew that the most torturous part of this punishment was the wait…
the dread. She stroked the flat of the paddle up and down his inner thigh.
Button suppressed a giggle. How can master go from hurting me to tickling me
just like that.
The mayor used her paddle to push Button’s balls to one side, and then the
other, then put it between his legs to scrape its edge up and down his rock
hard cock. She then trailed the paddle back up to his butt, stroking the area
where the sting was beginning to fade.
She raised the paddle in the air again, striking Button in the same place, with
a satisfying smacking sound that echoed off the stone walls. This time she
didn’t pause between paddles, delivering several severe spanks in swift
succession. Button’s squeals at each impact merged into a single long whine of
pain.
Only after Button’s flank had begun to turn a bright crimson did she stop.
Button whimpered softly, tears rolling down his cheeks. It hurt badly, but at
the same time, he was happy to have his master’s complete attention again.
A terrible thought crossed his mind. Terrible but also wonderful. He bit his
lip, not knowing if he should say it. It was scary, but he knew it would make
his master happy. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth. “M–More please,
master.”
A grin crept across the mayor’s face. “Certainly, slave.” She raised her paddle
again and brought it down hard on Button’s other buttock, the resulting impact
sounding like the crack of a whip. Button squealed and bit his lip again. Mayor
Mare followed this up with a few more spanks on the same area, each one
resulting in Button’s teeth digging harder into his lip, until he wasn’t sure
which end of him hurt more.
Button’s master then started to alternate between sides, ensuring that each
buttock was equally painful. He supposed that this kind of evenhandedness was
part of what made her a good mayor.
By now, Button was sobbing. He didn’t know why he’d made that request. His
master showed no signs of slowing down, but he knew it would disappoint her if
he asked her to stop. He gritted his teeth, resigned to suffer whatever
punishment she saw fit. She would stop when he had had the spanking he
deserved.
And stop she did, throwing down her paddle with a clatter. Through watery eyes,
Button watched as she walked to the corner, and grabbed hold of a rubber dildo.
It had always felt so long and thick inside him, but seeing it now, it didn’t
look nearly as intimidating.
The mayor walked straight past Button to the other side of the room where a
bunch of leather harnesses hung from the wall. Button watched as she selected
one and stepped into it, pulling it up like a pair of panties. She pressed the
handle end of the dildo to the harness and then rotated it. Button heard a
click sound as the strap-on dildo snapped into place.
“No, I haven't been using the harness with you so far,” Button's master told
him. “I thought I'd enjoy something different today though.
She put her hands on his back, pressing him harder against the ground. Button
felt the dildo swing, hitting his inner thigh. The mayor adjusted her rubber
cock, lining it up with Button's puckered butthole.
Button Mash felt the head pressing against his tight opening and tried to relax
his muscles. He sucked in breath as he felt his sphincter being stretched wide
by the bulbous head of the sex toy. Button let out a groan once the head was
fully inside him.
He strained his neck to look back at his beautiful master who was watching
intently at his little anus, and seemed to be relishing the sight of her little
slave taking its girth.
The mayor kept pressing forward, the shaft of the dildo pushing deeper inside
Button. Each inch it went in generated new sensations — different combinations
of pleasure, pain, discomfort, and excitement.
At about three quarters of the way in, it wouldn’t slide any deeper, and she
had to stop. At this point, a gentle lover would give her partner a bit of time
to adjust to the large new mass in his colon. But Mayor Mare was not a gentle
lover, she was Button’s master; and Button was not her partner, he was her
plaything. So she started thrusting into his butthole hard and fast.
But after a couple of weeks of practice, Button was prepared for this. Indeed,
feeling filled up by his master gave him a sense of satisfaction. His little
cock was throbbing and he wished he could reach under and rub, but his hands
were still bound awkwardly between his ankles and there was nothing he could
do.
He wished his master would reach around and take care of it for him, as she had
before, but Button figured that she wouldn’t take kindly to Button telling her
what to do. I should trust my master’s decisions.
The woman kept ploughing into Button’s rear entrance mercilessly. A man, using
a cock, an organ with nerves, would feel the friction and Button’s tightness,
and instinctively go slower. But the inanimate rubber dildo did not convey
these feelings to Mayor Mare, and she fucked Button without mercy.
Button grunted with every inwards motion of the rubber shaft. His hands balled
into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. His face rubbed against the
floor as the power behind each thrust moved his whole body. He was gritting his
teeth to stop himself from crying out with… Button wasn’t even sure what he’d
be crying out with… pain? …pleasure?
The young boy started to become accustomed to the dildo, his opening relaxing
and allowing the toy to slide a little deeper. The more painful and
uncomfortable aspects of being penetrated began to fade, allowing him to
concentrate more on the pleasurable side — his butthole being stretched wide
open; his colon feeling full; the underside of the shaft rubbing against his
prostate gland.
He started to push back against the thrusts, his own movements complementing
his master’s, getting the shaft still deeper inside him. His groans of
discomfort became moans of pleasure.
Occasionally straining his neck to look back at his master, and judging by the
lewd expression on her face, Button could see she was enjoying the action
herself. He figured that the dildo must be pressing pretty firmly against her
crotch, grinding against them with each thrust, and providing her with a bit of
stimulation herself. He hoped his master was enjoying herself as much as he
was. She deserved some pleasure.
As suddenly as it had started, Button felt the dildo pulled out of him. For a
few moments, cool air penetrated Button as his anus gaped, then it closed with
a slight squelching sound. Though the pegging was an activity that was unlikely
to either of their orgasm, so didn’t have a natural time to finish, Button was
surprised by its sudden cessation. He looked back to see his master removing
the harness, revealing her pussy, glistening with moisture. Button
instinctively licked his lips at the sight.
His master bent down out of Button’s sight and the boy heard the rip of Velcro.
His hands were free! He shakily got up onto his hands and knees, his face and
chest coming up off the floor for the first time in what must have been about
two weeks. His skin tingled where it had been pressed against the ground. He
rubbed his chest with one hand, getting the circulation going again.
“Lick, slave!” came his master’s voice, snapping him back to reality. Mayor
Mare was lying on her back in front of him, her legs spread eagled, her
glistening pussy pointed at his face.
“Yes, master,” Button replied. A little voice in the back of his head asked,
why? Why obey her? Your hands are free. You could unfasten your legs and make a
run for it. Why are you staying and obeying? Button quickly stamped out the
voice. His master was good to him. His master treated him how he deserved. His
master would surely feed him well tonight.
Button obediently bent down and ran his tongue over his master’s pussy. He’d
never tasted a pussy before and didn’t quite know what to expect, but was
pleasantly surprised by her salty yet sweet flavour. Mayor Mare let out a low
moan and stroked his hair with one hand. Encouraged by her sounds of pleasure,
and her pleasing taste, Button continued licking, running his tongue up and
down her pink pussy lips.
“That’s it, little boy,” the mayor purred, putting her hand on the back of
Button’s head and drawing him in closer. “Now suck on my clit.”
Button raised his head and looked at her, somewhat confused. He’d heard of this
clit thing before, but didn’t know what it was or where it was.
“You don’t know what a clit is?” the mayor asked.
Button shook his head shamefully. “Teach me, master,” he requested, looking up
at her.
The mayor guided his head to her throbbing clit. “Suck it, slave boy,” she
ordered.
Button Mash wrapped his lips around the engorged button and Mayor Mare moaned
in pleasure. He suckled gently on the little nubbin protruding from the top of
his master’s pussy. She stroked the back of his head affectionately, running
her fingers through his hair.
The boy sucked harder and massaged the tip of her clit with his tongue. His
master’s happy groans made him proud. He’d never been thought of as a clever
boy at school — had trouble paying attention to things in class — but he’d
always thought of himself as a quick learner, and he seemed to be learning how
to orally pleasure a mare pretty quickly. Life with a master who appreciated
his talents just seemed better than his old life.
Button’s cock was throbbing. He’d never been as excited in his life. With his
hands now free, it would not be hard for him to reach down and take care of
matters, but he resisted. Master knew best.
Mayor Mare held his head, pulling it towards her, pushing his face harder
against her pussy. Button struggled slightly to breathe but managed to draw air
through the side of his mouth. After a few moments, she pushed his head down a
little and her clit slipped out of his mouth. “Stick your tongue inside me,”
she commanded.
Button obeyed immediately. His tongue shot out of his mouth, entering her warm,
wet pussy. She moaned in pleasure, pushing her hips forward slightly to bury
his tongue a little deeper. Knowing that movement was important for sexual
pleasure, he started moving his tongue in and out of her passage, fucking her
with it. “Good little boy,” she purred, still holding the back of his head
tightly against her crotch.
The mayor started rocking her hips rhythmically, bucking gently against
Button’s face. The grip on his hair became tighter as she panted louder. Button
instinctively understood that she was getting closer to her climax.
Button’s master’s legs quivered and she groaned, releasing a small stream of
juices into his waiting mouth. Button greedily lapped the remnants of her cum
from her pussy, each flick of his tongue on her sensitive parts now causing her
to shiver and whine.
After a few moments, she pushed his head away. “That’s enough,” she muttered,
still catching her breath. Button stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do
next.
The mare rolled onto her front before getting to her feet. She circled around
to behind Button and unfastened the restraints on his legs. Button stole a
quick look at the open door. There was still a part of him urging him to run
out as fast as his legs could carry him, but a greater part of him needed to
stay… to stay with his master.
The mayor walked back to her place in front of Button, and then got onto her
hands and knees. She parted her legs, exposing her pink pussy which was still
slick with her slave’s saliva. “Fuck me, slave,” she ordered.
Button gulped. This was not how he had imagined losing his virginity. Maybe
Sweetie Belle? He stepped up to his master, putting his hands at either side of
her. His rock-hard cock brushed against her inner thigh and he tensed up.
He aimed his erection at his master’s slick pussy, and thrust forward, but his
targeting was off and he just jabbed her in the buttock. He tried again but
aimed too low, his shaft brushing against her pussy lips, causing her to
shudder. After a third attempt which almost went in the wrong hole, Mayor Mare
reached behind herself in frustration, guiding Button’s cock into her depths.
Button slid into his master’s pussy, a welcome sensation of warmth surrounding
his cock. Losing his virginity, with such an… an awesome mare… was more than he
could have hoped for. His cock throbbed and he knew he was already close to
breaking point.
“Fuck me then,” the mayor demanded impatiently.
The boy regained his senses and started thrusting his hips, even though he knew
that this was only going to hasten his inevitable shamefully early climax. The
rippling folds inside the mayor’s silken passage massaged his shaft in ways a
hand could never compete with. The muscles inside her almost seemed to be
milking him. The slick, smooth surface of her sex was something he hadn’t
imagined. Would Sweetie have felt so good? No, nobody could compete with
master.
He had barely managed more than ten thrusts when the dam inside him that he was
trying so hard to keep shut burst open. He shuddered and groaned, ejaculating
his seed inside her. It had been several days since he’d last cum, so he filled
his master’s pussy with a quantity that was quite impressive for a boy his age;
quite impressive for a full grown man in fact. He thrust hard again, his now
ultra-sensitive cock, displacing some of the cum so that it leaked out of the
mayor’s pussy, dripping onto the floor.
After a few more thrusts, each one draining him, but rewarding him with
pleasure even greater than the last, he could continue no longer and rolled off
his master’s back onto the stone floor, panting with an enormous grin. “I came,
master,” he said, once he was finally able to talk.
“I noticed,” she chuckled.
Suddenly shame descended upon him. He’d cum, but his master hadn’t. He was a
bad slave. “I… I’m sorry master… I should have—”
“Don’t worry about it, Button,” said the mayor, smiling. “It was your first
time.”
“But—”
“No buts. You did well. We’ve barely even started your training,” the mayor
explained.
Button lay there for a moment allowing that to sink in. “Training?”
“To be my perfect cum slut,” his master said.
“Oh.” Button lay there for a while longer. “I came, so…” he allowed his
sentence to trail off.
“Yes,” said the mayor, struggling to her feet. “I’ll get you some food.” She
sauntered out of the room, and Button could see some of his cum trailing down
her leg.
Button stared at the open door. He wondered where that little voice in his head
had gone. It was silent.
Soon the mayor came back with a bowl of stew and some bread. She sat and
watched while Button feasted, his tummy truly sated for the first time in
weeks. When he was done, she cleared away the dishes and cutlery, and patted
Button on the head before leaving.
Button looked at the open door again. He looked around his new bedroom.
He yawned, exhausted after a hard day’s slave work. He curled up on the floor,
trying to get to sleep.
It was so uncomfortable.
In the dim light, Button noticed his spreader bar and crept over to it. Button
inspected the Velcro fastenings. Bending over, he fastened his legs to the ends
of the bar, then with a little difficulty, his wrists to the central cuffs. He
slumped over, his face pressed against the cold stone floor, yawning again.
 
Button woke up.
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