Intimate Details - Surf, Sand, and Sun

Chapter 12 - 'That Night'

Dinner was quiet. Rarity was too anxious to even fully enjoy it, despite how delicious it had been. She did drink her fair share, though. Alcohol may dull some senses, but others it enhanced; one of them being the sense of touch. When Rarity was warmed by a few stiff drinks, she tended to get awfully feely, and that resulted in more than a few drunken lovemaking sessions between her and Octavia. Still, she hadn’t incapacitated herself with alcohol, but when she stood from the dinner table, her head was fuzzy and the room tilted dangerously.

“Come on,” Rarity panted, unable to hold back any more. “Let’s get ready.”

“Ready?” Octavia asked, glancing herself over. They had dined nude with the roll-up wall giving them a miraculous view of the setting sun. “Isn’t this okay?”

“Oh darling.” Rarity’s grin was positively dangerous. “I want everything to be perfect.”

Octavia took her hand and followed Rarity into the bathroom. The hot water helped clear Rarity’s head quite a bit, allowing her to focus on the task at-hand. Clothing someone in one of her masterpieces was not unlike preparing a canvas for the brush of a talented painter. It took preparation, a proper mindset, and most importantly, the right tools. Wielding razor, shaving cream, shampoo, conditioner, lotion, and lubrication, Rarity began.

First thing, she shaved all of Octavia’s nether-parts as thoroughly as possible. Even her armpits. Octavia giggled at the sensation, but allowed herself to be lorded attention over nevertheless. Whenever Rarity did anything like this (as she had only twice before) she basically turned Octavia into her own little dress-up doll. Octavia didn’t do much for herself, except maybe scrub her hair. Her job was to sit there and let Rarity have her way both with her body and her clothes. She enjoyed it, thankfully enough, and Rarity always made sure the night ended with both of them tied orgasm-for-orgasm.

After the shaving came the cleaning. Rarity got one of the washcloths positively frothy with a combination of soap and body-wash before crouching on the cool tile floor of the shower. Starting with Octavia’s feet, even the spaces between her toes, Rarity began to vigorously scrub her clean. Back in Canterlot, doing so would leave Octavia’s skin a delightful shade of pink, and as soft as a baby’s bottom. Now, after six days in the sun, Octavia’s flesh was a honey-colored haven. Over her ankles, past her calves, up her thighs and even over her crotch, Rarity lorded attention over each inch of her skin. She worked almost methodically. Meticulously. She didn’t even really pause when she gingerly slid two fingers into her wife’s anus, making sure she was clean back there as well.

Octavia had a penchant for anal, one that Rarity hadn’t quite acquired yet. The offer still stood for Octavia to pop that proverbial cherry, and Rarity had every intention of taking her up on the offer. But not tonight. Tonight, Octavia would be the only one receiving any anal stimulation. She gasped softly as Rarity tenderly cleaned her rosebud inside and out before using a gentle telekinetic field to rinse her posterior out. Rarity paid just about the same amount of attention to every other part of Octavia’s body as she had her vagina and ass, though. To Rarity, each inch of flesh was important as the last. At least, until the clothes went on.

Then it’d be a whole new ball game.

When Octavia had been shaved free of every hair that didn’t grow out of her head, and those hairs had been thoroughly shampooed and conditioned, Rarity cranked the water off. She wasn’t quite done, but Rarity didn’t want any water interfering with this next part. Wielding a bottle of lotion and skilled hands, Rarity began treating Octavia’s skin. The scent of coconut and arousal filled the air as Rarity started, once more, at Octavia’s feet. The white cream spread thick, but by the time Rarity moved on to the next bit of skin, she left nothing but sun-kissed beauty behind. It took everything she had to not take advantage of Octavia then and there, and she managed to resist by a hair. Lathering Octavia’s full, womanly thighs and butt cheeks with lotion was debilitating. Rarity was dripping by the time she was done and moved on to Octavia’s stomach.

Rarity had to admit, Octavia was something of an oddity in the fashion world. While her figure was womanly, it was disproportionate to almost grotesque proportions. Other dressmakers and tailors that had worked for Octavia in the past had struggled with the difference between her torso and her waist. Some of them had been terminated because of wardrobe malfunctions. Others still refused to work with such disproportionate measurements. Not Rarity. Rarity rose to the challenge readily, breaking many traditional patterns and forgoing or even inventing techniques other dressmakers clung to desperately.

Octavia’s torso was moderate. She had a C-cup bust with perky but soft breasts, quarter-sized, brown nipples, and a slender ribcage. Above her waist, Octavia was a size four. Below the swell of her hips, though, she was easily a size eight or higher. Rarity loved every wide curve, though. She knew them so intimately by now that the astounding measurements came to mind, even as she massaged lotion into Octavia's arms, working down to her hands and back up again.

Octavia wore a blissful smile as Rarity dismissed her to go air dry and style her hair. Rarity took a while to let her passions cool, and to prepare herself for what lay ahead. The water of the shower turned cold enough to raise goose bumps along her arms, and she meticulously shaved her lower half clean on her own. When she stepped out of the shower, she dried off with the assistance of some simple magic and an overly-fluffy towel. Octavia was standing beside the bed, completely nude, holding the garment bag. Rarity took a breath to steady herself.

This was going to be a long night.

Rarity didn’t need to say a word to Octavia. Her wife knew how these things went. She wouldn’t say anything, at least nothing coherent. There would be plenty of moans and maybe a scream or two to be had before the night was out. The sultry cellist was all smiles, though. She appeared to be almost as excited for this as Rarity was. Which was a feat, to be sure. Rarity had been looking forward to this moment since they had boarded the train at Canterlot. She had been saving this ensemble for one special occasion. If this wasn’t special, she didn’t know what was.

The garment bag held Rarity’s greatest masterpiece yet. With a careful and measured touch, she lifted it from Octavia’s arms and laid it out on the bed. To keep her wife from snooping, she had locked it with magic. As soon as the spell was undone, the zipper of the bag opened of its own accord. Rarity felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw the first glimpse of satin and silk. With careful, measured touches, Rarity began to remove the outfit piece by piece.

“Oh Rarity.” Octavia breathed. “That’s…”

“Shh.” Rarity lifted a finger, cutting Octavia off. “No more words.” She returned to her feet, holding the first piece of the outfit in her hands. Octavia closed her lips, a faint blush already working its way to her cheeks. Gingerly, Rarity wound the necklace around her wife’s neck. The first piece of the outfit, the necklace was little more than decoration. But it accentuated the rest, and was an independent piece. Rarity wanted to get it out of the way early. The thin golden chain supported a teardrop pendant of glinting, polished amber. The pendant rested against Octavia’s sternum, just one inch above her cleavage. Rarity ran her fingertips over the cool stone, smiling faintly. Octavia remained silent. They had only just begun.

Rarity knelt again. This time, she didn’t rise again, but guided Octavia’s feet through the slender strings of her underwear. Rarity was rather thankful for the lotion she had applied, else pulling the panties up Octavia’s thighs would have been much more difficult. Instead, the skimpy fabric glided over Octavia’s warm flesh, snugging tight around her hips, fitting perfectly in all of the places Rarity knew it would. From the front, these panties appeared to be normal. But Rarity knew otherwise. A sheer triangle of silk framed Octavia’s pubis, but when it pressed into the flesh, Rarity could still see the bronzed tone of skin through the thin cover. If she had any hair, Rarity would have been able to count each individual strand without even having to remove Octavia’s smallclothes. Unable to resist, Rarity gave Octavia’s soft mound a tender kiss through the panties. That elicited a tender gasp. The first of many.

Further down towards her crotch, however, the panties changed from the typical fare. Rather than cover Octavia’s womanhood with one layer of fabric, the black, silk affair split and cupped the joint of her thighs, opening wide enough that Rarity could see both Octavia’s tender, pink, glistening lips between the slender black lines. Past Octavia’s puckered rosebud, the panties threaded up her backside, re-joining the waistline at two separate t-intersections, each of those framed by sheer, see-through lace woven in an intricate pattern. Rarity turned her wife around, running her hands over Octavia’s pert butt cheeks. The fabric laid so flat against her skin, Rarity couldn’t even pick the hem out with the ball of her thumb. But the joint was so smooth, her skin didn’t bulge or spill around the edge either.

Rarity finished with a tender kiss to the soft meat of Octavia’s left ass cheek. She got another gasp, and even a soft groan for that. Next, though, came the garter belt. Rarity wound the elastic belt around Octavia’s hips, securing the belt and four straps in place with a bit of magic. The garter belt wouldn’t come off unless Rarity dispelled the enchantment holding it in place, or it was cut or broken. Four individual straps hung down Octavia’s legs to mid-thigh, and it was their charge she pulled out next.

“Are those-“

“Satin.” Rarity affirmed, holding up both hose for Octavia to see. “Now shush. I’m not nearly done yet.” With a firm touch, she lifted Octavia’s left leg, pulling the first few inches over her foot. This was perhaps the part Rarity enjoyed the most. Pulling hose up Octavia’s legs was an experience in and of itself. Her hand would glide over Octavia’s calf and thigh slowly, even as she pulled the black fabric upwards. Octavia whimpered, and Rarity could just barely smell her arousal. Higher up her legs, Rarity felt a single drop of moisture. Octavia was already dripping.

Good.

The hose were secured with the same spell Rarity used on her garter belt. This eliminated clasps of plastic or metal, which could scratch or even leave marks on the skin. Instead, this method kept them secured nice and firmly, and didn’t leave the wearer feeling uncomfortable. Not to mention, the soft tingle of magic made Octavia squirm and drip even more. This time, Rarity couldn’t resist the urge. She leaned forward and flicked the small drop of liquid off of Octavia’s inner thigh with the tip of her tongue. She left a small, shining mark, which she cooled with a soft puff of breath. Octavia was whimpering now, her hands curled into fists. She had to be trying so hard to not masturbate. The stress had to have been incredible. Rarity grinned and reached for the second satin leg-sleeve.

Once both were secure, Rarity stood and walked a slow circle around Octavia. The cellist looked positively delicious, with her full legs clad in black fabric, her pert ass cheeks cleft by dark silk, and her pubis looking oh so soft and kissable through the front of the skimpy panties. Her chest rose and fell with deep, measured breaths. Rarity smiled and ran the very tips of her fingertips along the back of Octavia’s shoulder blades. The poor woman let out a soft pant, her entire body giving a delightful shudder before growing still.

“Rarity-“

“Shh.” Rarity pressed against Octavia’s back suddenly, one finger rising to press to her lips. “We’re not even close to done yet.” The one hand not keeping Octavia quiet began to glow. From its place on the bed, Rarity lifted the next piece, and also the most intricate. She couldn’t quite see, but she didn’t need to. Octavia’s eyes went wide as Rarity hovered the corset forwards.

“Aah…” She gave a soft moan, but otherwise remained quiet. Rarity pulled her finger away from her lover’s lips, using both hands for this. Octavia lifted her arms, and Rarity pulled the sculpted piece tight against her heaving chest. “Hnn- oh.” Octavia’s stomach twitched. Rarity smiled and pulled the back closed. The long strings hung down to the floor, brushing against the smooth satin hose now and then. First things first, Rarity needed to keep Octavia’s girls reigned in. Holding the corset in-place with magic, she used both hands to tuck the soft mounds of her lover’s breasts into the perfectly-fitting cups of the built-in bra. She took a moment to give her a tender, passionate squeeze, making sure her nipples were nice and hard.

Rarity could have cut diamonds with them. Octavia was already a dripping mess, and it appeared as if the clothes had had an even more profound effect on her. Once her breasts were carefully tucked into the cups of the corset, Rarity removed her hands and began cinching the long strings up the back. Each new tug drew a new gasp from Octavia. She had never worn a corset before meeting Rarity, so this would be a new experience for her. Personally, Rarity rather enjoyed them. Done properly, they made her feel tight, sexy, and sleek. She had quite a bit of experience designing and manufacturing corsets, so she knew Octavia would enjoy this one.

Criss-crossing stitches wound their way up Octavia’s sides and across her lower back, while the front of the corset was a solid piece of tooled leather. Dyed white and sculpted to fit Octavia to a tee, it hugged her as tightly and as intimately as anything. Rarity had tested this piece extensively, to ensure Octavia wouldn’t be too uncomfortable wearing it. She wouldn’t be running a marathon, that much was for certain, but at least she could move without feeling as if she were moments away from breaking a rib. By the time Rarity was done, Octavia was blushing furiously.

“How do you like it?” Rarity whispered her breathy question directly into Octavia’s ear.

“It’s… close. It makes me feel tight, like a whip.” A giddy grin passed over Octavia’s features. “I like it.”

“Hmm.” Rarity finished lacing the back of the corset. The long strands leftover were tied into a bow and left to dangle, reaching almost to the top of Octavia’s rear. There was one more piece left, but it was small and relatively insignificant. Rarity pulled long satin sleeves up Octavia’s arms, joining them together with one magically-secure clasp in the middle of her shoulder-blades, and another just above her cleavage. The necklace was pinned beneath the slender strip of fabric, so should Octavia lean forward, it wouldn’t swing freely. The sleeves extended down to Octavia’s hands, where a single ring held them tight across the skin of her arms. When slipped over her middle finger, it drew the whole piece to a close.

Rarity stepped back. Octavia was dressed in her masterpiece, blushing like a maid on her wedding day, and looking so alluring it took every ounce of Rarity’s strength to not ravage her then and there. The white leather of the corset’s front was a perfect complement to the rest of the black satin, silk, and nylon. Both her legs and her arms were clad in smooth satin, and Rarity knew that hugging her, or running a hand over that smooth fabric, would be so addictive one was likely to never stop. This was Rarity’s fetish. This was her ultimate desire. Clothing. Revealing, scanty, tasteful, intimately crafted clothes. She could see each and every last curve of Octavia’s entire body accentuated by the outfit. From the gentle knobs of her ankles, up her smooth calves, her massive thighs and prodigious rear, over her sleek sides and flat stomach, up and over her beautiful breasts, past the hollow of her throat, and across her face into the cellist’s amber, lust-filled eyes. Octavia wanted Rarity, in a way that not even they could put words to. And Rarity wanted her just the same.

Still nude from the shower, Rarity didn’t have to worry about removing her clothes. When she beckoned Octavia towards the bed, all she had to do was stretch out on her back and open her legs. Octavia gave a thin whimper at the sight of her wife, spread wide open. Rarity didn’t have to look down her body to see, her core was glistening wet and already throbbing with desire. Her thighs were likely lathered with arousal by now. She was so hot it felt as if she could melt. Octavia slowly lowered herself to her hands and knees at the edge of the bed and began walking towards Rarity. The satin made a swishing sound over the sheets, further eliciting beads of juice from Rarity’s soaked cunt.

This was what she had been waiting for. When Octavia finally reached her, Rarity could feel the hot, panting pulsations of the cellist’s eager breath wafting over her thighs. Her skin broke out in goosebumps, and a shudder passed through her abdomen. Rarity wanted release. She wanted comfort. She wanted orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. Nothing would sate her desire right then. Nothing would satisfy her.

Nothing but Octavia.

“Haah-omph.” She wasted no time diving in. Rarity’s back arched, and she let out a shameless, long-winded scream of desire. Octavia’s skilled tongue had speared her, delving between her pink lips straightaway. The shock of it was so sudden, Rarity thought for a moment she had died and gone to the afterlife. Instead, a shuddering wave of hot arousal burst forth, accompanied by a muscle coordination-robbing orgasm. Dressing Octavia in the outfit had taken close to ten minutes. That was ten minutes for Rarity to get hot and bothered. Ten minutes of torturous waiting, her hands and eyes treated with the most wonderful expanses of soft, bronze skin she had ever had the pleasure of touching.

She had even had a taste of Octavia’s womanhood. That, more than anything else, had wound Rarity up like a top. The musky taste still lingered on her tongue, which was dancing in the air as she came long and hard against Octavia’s mouth. The tongue didn’t stop, though. It writhed inside of her, attacking each sensitive spot with relentless, skilled efficiency. Octavia would plunge her tongue deep enough to tease Rarity’s g-spot before pulling out and lashing her clitoris for what felt like an eternity. Then she would plant her entire mouth against Rarity’s dripping slit and lick the whole thing over and over and over until drool and cum dripped from her chin and into the sheets. Then she would go back to her clitoris, her g-spot, licking, g-spot, clitoris, again and again without end.

Rarity was lost in a sea of orgasmic bliss. The releases came one after the other, countless, breathless, each one punctuated by an ear-piercing scream or a vicious jerk of her muscles. Somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind, Rarity was glad she had nothing in her system at that moment. She could hardly control her breathing, let alone her bladder. Octavia had nothing to fear as she continued her oral assault.

It ended much too quickly for Rarity’s tastes. Octavia rose to her hands and knees, her chin glistening and dripping long, shining strands of saliva all over Rarity’s stomach. She could have kept going for a year and Rarity still wouldn’t have had enough. Dressed the way she was, with as voracious an appetite as Rarity had, there was no end to her desire. Octavia was panting, her hair a veritable mess after being buried between Rarity’s thighs the way she was. Rarity didn’t care. It wasn’t her hair that was important.

“Kiss me.” Rarity moaned. A hand wound around the back of Octavia’s head, pulling her up. ”Kiss me and don’t you dare fucking stop.”

The leather corset impacted her chest, driving the breath from her lungs. Octavia’s satin-shrouded arms and legs wrapped around her, tangling their limbs together until Rarity couldn’t tell who was wearing the hose and who wasn’t. Their tongues wrestled feverishly, trading back and forth between hot, chest-heaving breaths. Rarity panted and moaned as often as she could, and the open-mouthed exchange resulted in more drool than it did legitimate kisses. She didn’t care. The slippery feel of Octavia’s tongue and the taste of her own cum drove her over the edge. Rarity felt maddened by her lust. She would do anything to fulfill her desires.

“Lay back.” Rarity groaned, pushing Octavia over. It was time she kissed somewhere else on the cellist’s body. Octavia went willingly, sprawling onto her back so Rarity could look down at the masterpiece beneath her. The leather of the corset was creaking with each heavy breath Octavia took, and her breasts threatened to spill out over the top. The womanly lumps of flesh further ignited Rarity’s desire, making the debilitating waves of arousal even worse. Further down her body, Rarity found the source of her attention. But not just yet. Rarity would work her way up to that. She started instead at Octavia’s feet.

The cellist didn’t -quite- have a foot fetish, but it was about as close as anyone could be. Rarity pulled both Octavia’s satin-shrouded feet up to her chest, her fingers working small circles on the balls of her heels. Octavia closed her eyes with yet another panting breath and a small moan. She knew what came next, almost as well as Rarity herself.

“You look divine.” Rarity muttered, her lips hovering a mere inch from Octavia’s ankle.

“All… Thanks to you.”

“Shh.” Rarity slid a hand up Octavia’s leg. The satin was intoxicating to touch. Rarity couldn’t possibly palm enough of it to be satisfied. She stroked Octavia’s calf with both feet now, her lips brushing the top of Octavia’s feet. “Don’t make me gag you, Octavia. I won’t hesitate to stuff that pretty mouth of yours.”

“Y-yes, mistress.”

Mistress.

Rarity froze. That was the first time she had ever heard Octavia mutter that word.

Mistress.

It sent a tingle up her spine.

Mistress.

She was dripping on the sheets.

“What did you just say?” Rarity asked, her breath husky and rushed. Octavia looked down the length of her own body, where Rarity sat with both her feet in her grip, her purple eyes wide with shock. She knew what she had said, and she knew the impact it had had on Rarity. She arched her foot, gingerly pressing the balls of her toes against Rarity’s breasts.

”Mistress.”

“Say it again.”

”Mistress.” Octavia panted. Rarity kissed her foot. ”Mistress!” Her lips left a shining mark on the satin around Octavia’s ankle. ”Mistress!”

“Louder.” Rarity growled, her lips already halfway to the next kiss.

”Mistress!” Octavia’s hips were writhing on the sheets. ”Mistress!”

“Louder!” Rarity was up to Octavia’s thighs. She could smell her wife’s arousal from here. The glistening pink lips situated between the cleft of her panties were flush with arousal, dripping clear liquid. Octavia inhaled, just as Rarity dove in.

”MISTRESS! -AAHNG!”

It wasn’t every day Octavia squirted. Rarity gulped down every drop of the delightfully vile liquid, her tongue lashing Octavia like a whip. She licked the slick pink lips over and over, tasting the twitching muscles between her walls, sucking on her engorged clitoris. Rarity’s face was soaked. Juice ran freely down her chin, spattering onto the sheets in lewd, dark stains. Octavia’s cunt was a fountain of feminine cum, and Rarity was a parched woman. She drank each consecutive orgasm up, as much as she could manage between gasping breaths and hot licks.

The panties were ruined. The sheer fabric had soaked through, making it all but invisible. But Rarity loved the slick texture of sheer silk against her lips. It seemed like half of her licks she made only for the sensation of burying her nose against Octavia’s pubis, inhaling the pungent scent of her arousal. Octavia’s vocal chords had to have been raw. She had screamed with each new orgasm, and each scream had made her stomach collapse so drastically Rarity feared she might just fold in on herself. The hose on Octavia’s legs were more than ruined. Satin was useless when soaked through, and Octavia certainly had enough to soak perhaps the entire outfit, corset and all.

But the best moment came halfway through. Rarity’s lungs burned with the need for a proper breath. She had planned on pulling away to breathe, to kiss her wife, to let her recuperate from such an ordeal. But Octavia had other plans. The second Rarity pulled her head up, two skilled, powerful hands shot into her hair. Rarity nearly screamed. It felt almost like Octavia was ripping her hair out, two large fistfuls of silken-smooth purple hair. Instead, though, Octavia pulled her back down. Rarity’s face was stuffed into the cellist’s crotch. Her mouth was filled with her spurting, twitching womanhood.

”Don’t stop, mistress!” Octavia pleaded.

Who was Rarity to deny her charge?

With renewed fervor, Rarity resumed licking. Octavia was reduced to a pump, methodically cranking out liquid with each new orgasm. Rarity stopped trying to swallow it all. She let it course down her chin and chest freely, lathering her breasts and making a small, soaked puddle in the sheets. Only when her vision began to swim before her eyes did Rarity manage to wrench herself away.

Both of them were flat on their backs, laying spread-eagle at the oddest angles to one another. Their breathing was almost synchronized. Rarity was in disbelief. Had that just happened? What had she done? The outfit had cost almost seven hundred dollars, and that was just for the materials alone. The time spent, if Rarity were charging herself, would have cost well into five digits. She had just ruined a ten-thousand dollar outfit.

But she had not a single shred of regret.

“Are we… Haah… Done?” Octavia panted. Rarity couldn’t tell if she was exhausted, or eager.

“What… Do you think?” Rarity rolled her head to the side, grinning up at Octavia.

The cellist swallowed.

It was going to be a long night.