Title:           The Way Part 8
Author:          ElephantInTheRoom
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/ZN2gW4zb
First Edit:      Monday 25th of January 2016 05:19:56 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Wednesday 3rd of February 2016 10:54:12 PM CDT

>You wince.
>Polaris may be pretty, but she's still someone's pet.
“I... I won't touch the furniture.”
>He smiles, apparently satisfied.
>”Wonderful, you've done very well today Polaris. I'm proud of you.”
>You feel a genuine rush of happiness.
>You've done something good, you're appreciated.
>”I need to be getting back to my work. I've left you a touch pad by your bed, it's under the table. It has some shows and movies and it's connected to the TV. I hope you'll be able to keep yourself entertained.”
>”I've also left you a bowl of water and something to snack on in the kitchen. There's a box for you to use in the bathroom. Please don't disturb me unless it's an emergency.”
>He turns to leave, pausing briefly.
>”We'll talk a bit more later, take some time to get yourself settled in. I got you for a reason Polaris, I hope you appreciate what I've done for you so far.”
>With that he's off, headed out toward the living room and then up the stairs.
>His last few words, however, stay with you.
>He got you for a reason.
>For what sort of reasons would a person buy a sapient, talking pony?
>Why are you worried that you might know the answer to that question?
>Your eyes fall to your tail.
>Last night when he'd driven you home it had still been taped up.
>Sometime between when you had fallen asleep in the car and woken up in that bed he'd removed the tape.
>You give your tail a swish.
>Had he...?
>He must have... seen you...
>That was the reason for the tape after all, to show off your 'marketable parts'.
>Because you weren't good for anything else.
>Even after your little display on the auction block, he still wanted you.
>No, he hadn't even seemed interested until you had resisted.
>Was he some sort of sick fuck that wanted to break you? To groom you into some sort of obedient toy?
>What if you didn't let him? If you fought back? Would he get rid of you?
>You stop yourself, taking a deep breath and looking back into the mirror.
 
>Your tag is bright, polished.
>Your collar clean and well fit.
>You'd woken up this morning in a comfortable warm bed.
>You'd been given the most delicious meal you can ever remember having, even if it was just some vegetables on a plate.
>This wasn't someone that meant to hurt you, he'd been good to you.
>You need to be good back to him.
>Even if that means...
>You're getting a little warm, your tail lazily swinging to and fro behind you.
>You raise a hoof to your collar, finding a tiny bit of leverage between it and your neck
>Tugging from the front only yanks your head forward, the buckle holding fast against your efforts.
>Your wings are unfurling, raising away from your body and stiffly sticking outward.
>It should be such a simple thing to unfasten the buckle, slip it off, remove the shame from around your neck.
>With these blocky stubs it just isn't going to happen.
>And even if you could, you're beginning to come to the sickening realization that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't.
>Your breath is hot and wet as it escapes your mouth.
>You're leaving a little patch of fog on the mirror, even from this distance.
>You're also sitting in the middle of the hallway, this just won't do.
>You rise to your hooves, sauntering out towards the kitchen and squeezing your legs together as you walk, your tail bobbing along with your hips.
>You'd spent last night locked in a cage, driven to the home of the man who'd just paid money to own your body, to own you.
>As you make your way past the kitchen you come to the bed you'd woken up in, it's soft and inviting in front of you.
>Stumbling forward you collapse onto its warm, fluffy surface.
>The leash that had tied you in place earlier rested lazily, splayed out across the floor, still tied to the same couch leg.
>You had been a normal person. Driving to work, to the movies, to dinner. Going wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted.
 
>Now a simple strand of leather could dictate whether or not you were even allowed to get out of bed.
>An exasperated huff escapes your mouth as you roll onto your back.
>That man, your owner, seems to be the only one around.
>Even if you hadn't sworn you wouldn't try to leave, you certainly aren't going to be opening the front door on your own anytime soon.
>You spread your haunches apart, easing a hoof downward along your belly.
>You're so small now, he's like a giant to you.
>He's already shown he can easily carry your weight, you doubt you'd be able to muster much resistance against him.
>Your hoof finally reaches your marehood. It's already slick, your juices soaking into the coat of your fetlock and running down your plot.
>It's like there's some kind of void inside you. You whinny a little in sick delight as your hoof starts to fill that space.
>He even treats you as if you're some kind of animal, like the household dog.
>He could do anything he wanted to you...
>You're rubbing yourself in slow circles, each rotation sending soft streams of pleasure up your spine, into your head.
>...and you couldn't do a thing to stop him...
>You bite down on your lower lip, increasing your pace. You can hear your hoof sloshing around against your folds, drenching your nethers and dirtying the bed beneath you.
>...he could be up there right now, getting ready to come downstairs and...
>You throw your head back, accidentally slamming it against the couch. There's a loud crash as it, in turn, bumps into the staircase wall.
>The whole house shakes.
>There's silence.
>And then you hear a door creaking open.
>”Polaris... what was that?”
>Oh fuck.
>You look down at yourself, your body spread out guiltily in your bed.
“Oh I uhhh... ummm... I slipped and hit my head... on the couch... I'm sorry!”
>You clumsily roll out of your bed, your legs shaking.
>The middle of the living room might not be the best place to do this.
 
>You're shooting a worried gaze toward the top of the stairs.
>Don't come down, don't come down, don't come down...
>There's a very noticeable damp spot in the middle of your bed, you could swear that you're wearing the expression of a dog caught chewing up the newspaper.
>Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hear the door latch closed.
>Your body is shivering, your breath still heavy and unsteady.
>Were you really about to get off to that?
>You look at your bed, then around the living room, pressing your haunches together and letting out a dejected whimper.
>You don't know what you were thinking, you can't do this out here, and where could you even go to get some privacy?
>Or did you actually want him to come down and find you? Exposed, horny, out of control?
>You bite your lip, your fore hoof slowly sliding backwards...
>No no, no more of that.
>Something is obviously wrong with you.
>Is that even what's bothering you? Or is it that it doesn't bother you that you find most worrying?
>Some time later tonight he's going to come back down those stairs, tired and weary from work, and then the two of you are going to 'talk'.
>Until then, you were going to be his good girl.
>His.
>You had been a man before, right?
>And you definitely still seemed to like mares.
>Mares or girls?
>Those stallions in the corral, they certainly hadn't been unattractive.
>You'd just had your attention elsewhere.
>So what about Mr. Nowak?
>Your mind wanders. You picture him standing over you, you're feeling his hands on you again. They're behind your ears, under your chin, running along your back, against your throat...
>Yup, no problems there.
>You need to stop doing this before you make a mess on his floor.
>Releasing a sigh you turn to the table, poking your head beneath and spotting the tablet he'd mentioned earlier.
 
>It's resting atop a black microfleece blanket, neatly folded on the floor.
>You press a hoof to the corner of the blanket, sliding it out from under the table.
>The screen is black and you stare at it blankly, a little unsure about how to proceed.
>You hold your hoof above the screen, hovering briefly before giving it an experimental tap.
>The screen comes to life.
>It's surprisingly bright and you find yourself blinking several times before your eyes adjust.
>The background is that of a beautiful nighttime skyline, a fluorescent cityscape occupying the lower half.
>It's a stark contrast to the scenery you've been accompanied by since you awoke.
>There are only a few icons on the screen. There's one labeled movies, another for shows, one for books, one labeled “canvas”, music, and finally one that just says “TV”.
>They're placed in a single row, greatly enlarged, and spaced widely apart.
>It's almost as if they'd been arranged specifically for a clumsy little horse with unwieldy hooves.
>As if they'd been arranged just for you.
>The thought gives you a momentary pause. A heavy, uneasy feeling spreading through your chest.
>You put the thought aside, beginning to tap through the icons.
>It's a little difficult at first, even as large as the icons are you still have to tilt your hoof at an angle to avoid mashing several of them at once.
>Movies, shows, music, and books all bring up lists of their respective items.
>Canvas brings up a drawing pad. You spend the next few minutes doodling the ugliest stick figure you believe you've ever seen.
>Pleased with your monstrosity you move on to the TV icon.
>Instantly the screen on the wall flashes on, the image mirroring that of your tablet.
>That's pretty neat.
>At the very least you'll have something to do.
>First though you're still a bit hungry, and you could probably use a trip to the little mare's room.
>Where was that, exactly?
 
>You take a trot over to the base of the stairs.
>Next to them lies a closed double door with a glass inset. Through the glass you spot some sort of gaming lounge, a billiard table in the center.
>On the other wall sits a large, heavy wooden door. The front door.
>You stand below as tiny wisps of cold air blow in from the very bottom, buffeting your hooves and fetlocks.
>It's a bit nippy, but unbelievably refreshing. The rest of the house seems pleasant and temperate but for some reason you find yourself enjoying the cool breeze.
>You could probably open the doors to the lounge if you propped yourself up on your hind legs. You doubt that's something Mr. Nowak would expect of you though, given just how much preparation he seems to have made for your arrival.
>Instead you make your way back to kitchen.
>There's a plate on the ground next to the breakfast bar.
>Chopped onions, tomatoes, spinach, alfalfa.
>They're giving off the most delectable aroma you could imagine.
>You're pretty sure you used to hate those things.
>You're also pretty sure you used to be a moron.
>To your right is an open doorway leading to the dining room.
>An enormous, rich mahogany dining table stands in the center; rays of brilliant daylight stream through the windows, casting bright streaks throughout the room surface.
>The rest of the space is filled with ornate cupboards and drawers. At the far end sits a stone fireplace, bookcase, several chairs, and a velvety couch. The whole room gives off a sense of tasteful splendor.
>Through the windows you spy the back yard. It's a large, open lawn, extending at least several dozen yards before transitioning into dense forest. Patches of snow coat the landscape.
>In the distance you catch the sight of mountains.
>The same ones you saw from the market?
>There's a door at the far end of the room, but it looks like that just leads into the lounge you saw earlier.
>Still no bathroom, and you're beginning to really need it.
 
>You turn around and head for the hallway, spotting yourself again in the mirror.
>There are three doors here, one on your left, and two on your right.
>All of them are closed, except the first to the right.
>You nudge it open with a hoof to find...
>Success!
>You waddle inside the tiled room, straight up to the toilet.
>This... is probably not going to work.
>You think back.
>He'd said there was a 'box'.
>Did he really mean...?
>Your gaze falls on a large litter box sitting next to the toilet.
>You let out a disheartened sigh.
>This is just one of those things you're probably going to need to get used to.
>You nudge the door closed with your snout to give yourself a little privacy.
>It closes with a click.
>Your heart drops.
>Did you just lock yourself in the bathroom?
>You look up, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of a handle.
>You could probably open a knob with your mouth, if you really needed to.
>But that would be disgusting.
>Apprehensively, you step into your box and do your business.
>It's more than a little degrading.
>Luckily there's a pan of water and a mat just outside the box for you to soak and wipe your hooves on.
>This guy thought of everything.
>You spend a few moments cleaning your hooves before heading to the door, rearing up, and flicking the door handle open.
>You make your way back to the living room, stopping by the plate of veggies on your way over.
>What would be the best way to do this?
>You crane your neck forward, gripping the plate's edge between your teeth.
>It responds by tipping dangerously to the side.
>Nope nope nope.
>You try pressing a hoof to the side of the plate, pushing it across the floor with a sweeping motion.
>It works, but it also forces you to awkwardly scuttle sideways.
>Dissatisfied, you try another approach. You hook your muzzle beneath the plate, tilting it up slightly and pressing it forward, towards your bed and tablet.
 
>You keep a careful eye on your plate full of goodies, finally arriving at your destination.
>Most comfortable bed ever? Check.
>Most delicious smelling meal in the world? Check.
>Tablet with all the television you could ever watch? Check.
>Time to relax.
>You spend several hours watching a movie. It's some sort of cheesy action flick, the hero is stuck in a building on Christmas and he has to shoot all the bad guys.
>You've seen this before, you're sure of it. It's a bit unnerving at first, knowing what to expect but still ending up surprised at every turn, but by the end it hardly bothers you.
>In fact, it's almost a little fun.
>The sun is starting to set, casting tall shadows across the room.
>You've finished your movie, and your meal.
>Boredom is beginning to creep into your head, bringing all sorts of unmentionable thoughts with it.
>On top of that table, with your wings spread out...
>The couch, your face pressed into a pillow and your flank high in the air...
>...but he said no furniture.
>Of course it'd be okay if he put you there.
>Where the hell is he? He needs to get down here and rut you already.
>You hear a door opening followed by the sound of heavy footsteps.
>Yes yes yes~!
>Should you be getting ready for him?
>There's no time, just find a spot and look cute.
>You scoot out of your bed and off towards the foot of the stairs, planting your rear on the floor and staring upward and giving your best happy puppy impression.
>Your tail is easily the most convincing piece, frantically whipping back and forth.
>And there he is. He looks tired, even a little haggard. Upon seeing you however, his expression lightens.
>”Well well, I have to say I'm surprised to see you looking so excited. I hope your day hasn't been too dull.”
>You have to stop yourself from nearly barking in the affirmative.
“I did! I mean... it wasn't!”
>Woah there, slow down girl, maybe he's not into the overly eager types.
 
>He's chuckling though, you can't have screwed up that badly if you made him laugh.
>You watch as he reaches the bottom, turning and striding past you.
>As he does, he snaps his fingers.
>Your butt is off the ground and you're trailing behind him in an instant.
>Sweet holy fuck.
>He just moved you half way across the room with the flick of his fingers.
>Never mind about there not being enough time to get ready.
>He takes his time setting himself down in the recliner as you take your position at his feet, staring up at him.
>Mmh... recliner, you didn't think about that one. Maybe he'll hold you up by the crooks of your forelegs while he...
>”Polaris, over here girl.”
>He's clicking his fingers, you must have zoned out there a bit.
>”There we are, I understand if you're a little tired, but this is important. Do I have your full, undivided attention?”
>Oh god, that authority, is he going to talk to you like that while he plows you?
“Yes sir~”
>He shoots you an odd look, half surprised and just a little unnerved.
>Don't overdo it, maybe he's still expecting you to be a bit timid and cagey? Is that what he gets off to?
>”Right... I appreciate the enthusiasm Polaris, but I can understand if you're still a little unsure about your place here. I've been firm with you, but I don't think I'm an unreasonable person. Hopefully we can clear the air a bit, I believe we can work out an agreement that benefits both of us.”
>Your place here? He means at his feet, right?
>What else needs to be worked out? You're his pet, his toy. He rescued you from that place, from people who probably would have hurt you, abused you.
>He's not just reasonable, he's a good man.
>The only thing that still needs to be worked out is your little mare pussy.
 
>”Like I said before Polaris, I got you for a reason, it's about time you learned what that is. I know this whole process has been painful... has been traumatic for you. I know that I can't fix what happened, I can't give you back who you were, what you were...”
>You're still staring up at him, eyes unblinking.
>Who you were? You were probably some loser. Now you're you, Polaris. A happy little mare.
>He should worry less, you both want the same thing.
>You're going to be his good girl.
>”...but I can give you something back. I can give you a safe home, a happy life. I can give you a purpose.”
>Getting a little deep there, but if that floats his boat you're happy to oblige.
>Your only purpose is to be his little slut. To take care of all his needs, service him in any way he desires.
>And you're going to love every second of it.
>”You might be wondering why I picked you, why I didn't just scoop up the first docile little pony they put up on that auction block. You're a fighter Polaris, I chose you because you didn't just give up like all the rest.”
>So he did want to break you.
>If that's how he wants it to go, you can play along.
>How much should you fight back? Should you whine and cry when he scoops you up, carries you off to his bed, pounds you into submission with his cock?
>Maybe he even has some fun toys for when you misbehave. A few swats of a paddle would feel so good on your rump right now...
>”I need you to be strong Polaris, I have a very important job for you. I think you might even find it enjoyable, there aren't many ponies that get a chance like this.”
>There aren't many, in fact there's just one.
>And he's damn right it's going to be enjoyable.
>All he needs to do is unzip his pants, put you up on a little stool.
>You'll show him you deserve the chance he's given you.
>He's looking down at you, smiling. You're staring back up at him with a happy grin.
 
>”First, and I think most importantly, we're going to need to teach you how to fly.”
>Fly?
>You can fly?
“I can fly!?”
>”You can fly.”
>That's...
>Well it's not sex.
>It's almost better than sex.
>”Most pegasi don't get the chance to, but it's not unheard of. You're built quite a bit lighter than ponies or unicorns. Your bones are less dense, you've got less muscle, your body stores less fat, but your wings are strong and sturdy.”
>You give an experimental flick of your wings.
>They're still a little achy, but they already feel much better.
>More than that though, they feel powerful.
>He's going to let you fly.
>And you thought this couldn't get any better.
>”It might take a while, but I have faith in you. You're going to have something that's rather uncommon for your kind, freedom. As long as you stay true to me, as long as you're loyal, you'll find a good home here.”
>Freedom? That was something you had wanted, wasn't it?
>Why?
>You hadn't been happy before you were taken. Then you ended up here.
>It might be nice to get out and stretch your legs from time to time, but this is where you belong now.
>”You may have been wondering about your name, I think it's fitting. Polaris is the North Star, the guide star. As long as you keep it in view you'll find your way, and you'll be needing to learn how to navigate, especially at night.”
>Navigate? Like on a boat?
>Is he going to take you on some sort of romantic trip?
>He certainly seems well enough off for that sort of thing.
>You'll get to be his little navigator, his assistant. Reading the charts, checking your compass, nuzzling at his leg.
>And then he'll scoop you up off your hooves and haul you into the cabin.
>How did you get so lucky?
>”You'll have some time to get used to all this, but it's going to be very important for me to be able to count on you. Navigators used to rely on the North Star. I need to know I can rely on you Polaris, and you need to know that you can trust me. Do you understand?”
 
>You need to trust him? You already do, why wouldn't you?
>Obviously if he's going to let you range around outside he'll need to trust you back.
>But he needs to know it?
>He needs a demonstration.
>You take a deep breath, steadying yourself.
>This is it, you can do this.
>You can't remember ever sucking a cock before, but it's pretty simple, right?
>In fact it should be easy with a nice long muzzle like yours.
“I underst... I mean, yes sir, I understand! You can trust me, let me show you!”
>He's already starting to stand up.
>Your breathing is shallow, your rear legs spread wide.
>You're gazing up at him longingly, showing him your best set of bedroom eyes.
>Does he want you to right here? That's going to be hard, you'll need to lean up against him. You can make this work though.
>You rear up, your forehooves finding support on his hips.
>”Polaris? What are you...?”
>You press your nose into his crotch. It's clean, but you can just barely make out the scent of his sweat.
>You let off a little shudder, the vague hint of musk driving you on.
>It's going to smell so much nicer when it's in your face.
>You need to find that zipper.
>You fumble around his pants briefly with your mouth, finally locating the little metal piece.
>It's between your teeth. Now you just need to work it downward...
>He's pulling away from you?
>You fall forward, back onto your hooves, staring up in confusion.
>He's already walking away, towards the kitchen.
>Oh! He must be getting a stool!
>How considerate of him, that'll make this so much easier.
>You see him walking back towards you as you wait eagerly, but he's not carrying a stool.
>What is that?
>Some kind of bottle? What's he doing with...
>Spurts of ice cold water bombard your face.
“Ayyeeeeeeeeee!”
>You're recoiling backwards. It's in your mane, on your muzzle, your cheeks, down your neck, along your back. Little chilling daggers setting your nerves alight.
>”Down girl, down! No! Bad!”