As you leave the alleyway, the delicious cries of Rarity still echoing in your ears, you carefully tuck your low-hanging cock back into your shawl (Wouldn't want anypony to know too soon, rape is supposed to be a surprise you know!). You start scanning the crowd for your next victim, and see quite a few potential candidates, but before you can decide a zebra walks up beside you and taps you on the shoulder.
"Excuse me Miss, could you help me?" She says, "I need directions to the bakery!"
Did she just...? Now, you must be hearing things. Besides, a new victim has just walzted right up to you, no need to waste the opportunity.
"Of course I know the way, if you want I could walk you there." You lie through your smile.
"Tha would be lovely, I cannot be late, I'm on my way to an important date." She continues, "I'm seeing a friend, a pinky pony, we're meeting today for coffee and tea!"
Holy Luna. This zebra is literally rhyming. Every. Single. Fucking. Line. Who the hell does this stupid-ass Zigger think she is? You can't wait to seriously mess this idiot up. She's gonna bleed. You lead her down no street in particular, all the while searching for a good alleyway to lead her down.
"My name, by the way, is Zecora my dear," She starts talking, AGAIN, "Kind filly, what do they call you around here?"
You cringe, "Tangy. My name is Tangy."
You're lying of course, you always give your targets a fake name.
"Tangy, you say? A name so petite! I bet like the fruit on the grove, you are sweet."
That's it. You decide at once that you've had enough of her rhyming, and direct Zecora down a nice, dark alley. Surprisingly enough, she seems to buy into it. You send her down, and she thanks you with silent nod, a blessing after all those rhymes. Once you're sure she's down far enough, you follow her in, quietly creeping behind her. As she heads further down the alley, and further into your trap, she stumbles upon a dead end, and you take the opportunity to sneak up directly behind her, readying your hooves. Then, you lash out with a violent buck, striking her square in the peach.
She lets out a shriek combined with a moan, and falls on her chin. Her rear, however, is still sticking up in the air. You smash her wet cooch again, and grind your hoof deep inside of it, making her scream and plead,
"Please, please stop this assault, I've done nothing to you, this is not my fault!"
She's STILL DOING IT. You smash her again, and again and again until her labia is literally bruised and overflowing with juices. Her stupid rhymes have died down to nothing more than a whimpering cry. You stand over her broken form and smile, but this beating has only begun. In fact, the smell of her vaginal musk is making you horny. And being horny only makes you more violent.
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