Night had fallen over the central area of Equestria, wherein was located the grand palace of Canterlot. The darkness suited many figures, such as the party-lovers and nightclub denizens in the city proper, not to mention any number of romantic lovers who strolled the paths of the city. A few palace workers had a few late night rendezvous in mind around the imposing edifice, which was mostly still and silent under the canopy of stars.
The author of that darkness, the grand Princess Luna, was hidden away from the gaze of her own night. She was ensconced in her private bedroom, with her heavy velvet curtains shut tight against the smoked glass, letting not a pinprick of external light penetrate the sanctity of her umbral realm.
It was not dark, however. She had grand braziers which could be lit, and had allowed the installation of muted electric lights. But that night she had seen fit to illuminate her great chamber with candles. Hundred of them. Thin, tall tapers, fat, squat votives, carven candles of several varieties, all of them seemingly scented, throwing off myriad wonderful aromas as well as the hundreds of points of flickering light.
The candles allowed the room to be seen, in the main, thought they revealed very little. Most of the space was bare and blank, showing only polished basalt floor and the large canopy bed. The light also revealed Princess Luna herself. The princess of the night was decked out in dark-purple, diaphanous cloths, attached to her form by glittering silver jewelry studded with pieces of dark sapphire, lapis lazuli, turquoise and onyx. Every movement made the cloth flow, catching the candlelight along its filmy surface and creating a star-like glittering effect. Combined with her mane and tail the beautiful mare was awash in the glory of the night sky, like a living Milky Way.
Soft music emerged from the very air, created by Princess Luna's magic. There was a light, sensual quality to it, soft pipes and tinkling bells. It was very Saddle Arabian. Indeed, it was not only the music and attire that was in the Saddle Arabian style. Luna's motions were clearly born of a deep study of the terpsichorean tradition of the region. Her movements were precise, but looked flowing and loose. She danced on four legs and on two, ever silent but forever letting the scarves sway, and letting her body flow like an inky river.
Primary in her performance was a quick spin, on four legs or two, which ended with her shaking her grand rear end. The plumped mounds, fed by rich food and sculpted carefully to be in the finest ancient noble tradition, jiggled beautifully. The full, plush roundness resembled nothing so much as two of the ripest and juiciest melons ever grown by the hoof of pony. She swayed her hips with practiced ease, her fecund, fertility-goddess figure moving along in time, with the cheeks suffering only a small delay as their glorious fullness wobbled pleasantly.
She focused all her dancing skill on the motions of her scandalous hind end, spending much time on her hind legs and supported by flaps of her wings. She stepped her high hooves up and down in time, flexing the fattened fundament while she reached for the ceiling. The flexing and rolling jiggles continued as she slowly went back down to all fours, her high-stepping hind legs continuing the motions for several more cycles of tensing and releasing.
Following the cessation of the steps Luna began to bounce her rear in time with the magical music. Her legs were deft and her bottom precise, dropping and rising rapidly to create wild shockwaves through her derriere. The tumultuous flesh wobbled like a seismic event, but slowly settled back down as the music droned to a close and her whole body slowly went still.
She was actually panting, her performance having lasted for a goodly period or time. Sweat sheened on her royal coat, glistening in the candlelight and making her look all the more like the night sky, animated and made glorious flesh. She used her horn to slowly levitate over a tray filled with clay containers, all of them seemingly identical.
“Now... cometh the anointing. I do make holy this object of veneration. Taper and votive do make of this carnal lair a temple, and by this sweet chrism do I make of simple fundus a relic, that may be adored in all worshipful meaning,” Luna said in a lustful and husky whisper, while levitating up one of the small clay containers.
She tipped it over as it hovered above her rear end and gave a soft gasp and sigh when the thick liquid poured across the expanse of her ass. The oil was also scented, throwing up the scent of dark blackberries and musky spices. The sweat on her coat repelled the slowly flowing oil, making it fall along her thighs and hocks. A sudden caress of her own magic smeared the oil back up, mingling sweat and balm across the vast sweep of her rounded cheeks. More oil followed, with more magic smearing and spreading the viscous fluid along the expanse.
“A beautiful display... but observing is so cold and distant. Let me be a little hooves-on,” came the chuckling comment form Luna's audience. Up to her strolled a stallion, with a warm caramel-colored coat, mane and tail black as night and shining, both slicked back perfectly. His limbs were long and his gait loose. Even though he was very well into his adulthood he moved with an oily grace, the sauntering strut of a con pony or grifter. On his flanks was the mark of a pristine red apple, with a cut-out wedge to show a sickly green within. Bad Apple, Luna's paramour.
“Aye, Sir Sauce, an it please you, place hooves 'pon th' object of your devotion and desire. You do defile and consecrate in equal measure. Omnia bene. 'Tis only as should be, that he who doth serve be permitted certain rights 'pon the wight he serveth,” Luna cooed, pushing her meaty mounds out and giving them a shake. The oiled ass almost sparkled as the candlelight caught the jiggling waves and threw reflections about.
“It is my pleasure to serve this great duty. To a booty. Booty duty. Indeed... this... this is a treasure to be served. Because as I serve, I am endlessly rewarded,” Bad Apple said, gently coming up to plant his hooves on the wide, broad pair of cheeks. His personal touch was no different from the magical smearing of oil and sweat but his caress was so much more appreciated. Hot, pleasured moans dripped from Luna's lips, and her front end slowly went down, to give proper prominence to her grand geluteus.
A few moments of slow massage, a few circling motions of his nimble hooves on the sweet flesh proved to be only a preliminary. He took up other containers of oil and sniffed them carefully. Black cherry. Wine. Blackcurrant. All of them mixed with the heady musk of exotic spices. He was shameless about his actions, pouring each in turn upon the plump and rounded cheeks.
His hooves pressed in firmly, barely finding purchase against the slicker and slicker mounds. He massaged all the same, working the scented oil into Luna's coat, doing as commanded, anointing her derriere like it was a holy relic. It certainly seemed to be one to him. The mingling of scents made the air grow dense, perfuming the environment like incense. Indeed, with all the scented candles and scented anointing oil the room had attained a divine odor.
The oil was running again, but not for lack of working it in properly. What could cling to Luna's coat and skin clung for dear life. What remained poured down her backside to spatter lightly on the floor. Through it all the loving hooves of Bad Apple pressed, rolled and massaged over the full broadness of her royal rump. He pushed and squeezed and even patted the healthy flesh, the oil making every small pat ring like a great, firm slap, which echoed around the great bedroom.
All of a sudden the restrained con pony let his leash slip. He stopped trying to be in control and quickly thrust his face between Luna's meaty moons. He shook his head as hard as he could, lightly nickering to motorboat her hind end. He kept pressing deeper and deeper between the proud and upthrust bottom, letting out loud, long, appreciative moans. He planted both hooves firmly on the twin mounds once he had reached bottom, most of his face nearly swallowed by the clutching press of warm, slick flesh.
After savoring the grip of Luna's butt around his snout, which 'hugged' his face with flexes and small motions, he squeezes his hooves in again. He did not move them in a circle, as he had for the massage, nor did he pull the cheeks apart as a kind of rhythmic pleasuring. He pressed them in tightly around his face, rubbing and rolling them up and down his blocky, male snout.
His tongue slipped out during the rolling grind of perfect princess flesh along his face, licking and flicking at the warm cleft. The oil had gotten everywhere, and each lick brought a wonderful melange of fruits and wine, with the light bitterness of spices and the salty bite of sweat. He flicked his tongue through her rear cleavage until he touched at her tight star. He was unafraid and unashamed, flicking his saliva-loaded tongue all over the tight sphincter. He ground and swirled around the pucker, practically flicking at each fold and grinding lightly against the very center.
Luna cried out a high, surprised squeal of pleasure, on the edge of using the Royal Canterlot voice. Her whole body shivered at the talented tongue dancing around the muscular pucker of her anus. The ring twitched and quivered in response while her healthy cheeks wobbled around against Bad Apple's cheeks, warmly helping him massage his face as he worked on pleasing her.
The pleasant, oil-enhanced rimming lasted for a while, but eventually ended when Bad Apple dragged his tongue and face down farther between Luna's cheeks, slurping the cleft firmly before intruding on her most sensitive spot. His quacksalver-quick tongue flicked repeatedly over the lips of Luna's sex, parting them, teasing between them, working them in a teasing frenzy until the speedy organ reached the exposed bulge of her clit.
She had winked the nerve bundle into the open, to present to her stallion of favor, as was the equine way. Thus exposed to the outside word it was suddenly coated in the running flows of scented oil, washed in Bad Apple's hot breath and then lavished with love and attention from his eager tongue. The snake-like pink muscle wound around the bulge and squeezed, pulling a tremendous whinney and moan from Luna's mouth, which ended with a hard snort.
Luna's hind end was set to motion right after the powerful jolt of pleasure ran through her. She shoved back, hard, not only pushing Bad Apple's face out of her fleshy cleft but tossing him back onto his own slender rear end and leaving him mostly on his back. His forehooves were tucked up to his chest and his rear legs were splayed out, while the look on his face hovered somewhere between bliss and a daze. “Wh-what was that?”
“You have teased enough. 'Twas our intent that this be a time of worship. Adoration be not placed 'pon ring nor chalice. 'Twas whole and sole to be this great collection of flesh. The mark of Popolo grasso, this healthy flesh, venerated. Your focus be wav'ring, mine eager servitor. As is proper, let now your goddess guide you on the right path,” Luna said, with a heavy, lustful voice, as she slowly backed up her backside.
The target of the full, slick and glistening cheeks was the standing spire long since dropped and hardened on Bad Apple's belly. It was a proud stallion tool, a credit to him. The long, lightly-pulsing flesh was tricolored, a dark caramel near the base, which led up to an irregular border where there was a pinkish tone, mostly around the medial ring, which then led to another irregular border that finished off the last of the shaft and the mushroom-shaped crown with a dark purple color, the oft-mentioned aubergine of Luna's delighted memories.
Her heavy hindquarters went back more and more, almost teasing in their approach. She shook them, bounced them, made every effort to set the deliciously-oiled flesh to wobbling. Then they came down, inch by inch until Luna was all but sitting on Bad Apple's stomach, and her soft, slick cheeks were enveloping the twitching length of his pole.
Luna flexed her ass repeatedly, providing a great pressure around the three-colored erection, sending a soft moan out of Bad Apple's mouth. A second, deeper, longer moan emerged as Luna started to slide, slowly and carefully, up and down along the trapped length. Her thick derriere pressed in on two sides of the bottom while the top was ground against his own belly.
She moved slowly, with great love and care, letting the crown and all the aubergine-toned portion be exposed, so that her soft moons were almost settling over his honeycrisp-sized stones, before sliding back up to cover the purplish top once more. Her own darker-purple flesh squeezed ground and shook it. She wiggled herself side-to-side occasionally, at the top and bottom of the strokes, to give the precum-spitting shaft a good bit of sensation.
Bad Apple was doing as he should have been before. His hooves were on the fattened swells of Luna's rear end, massaging the oily surface, moving in circles or pressing firmly down as appropriate, to both show her his love and to add to the pleasure of the hotdogging. He made good use of her buns, with thrusts as firm as he could give given his position. His moans and nickers of delight formed a sensual symphony, a hymn to carnality, a paean of pleasure, when mixed with Luna's more restrained and more regally-toned groans and sighs.
No stallion could hope to last for long under the pleasurable assault of such a perfectly-fattened and sculpted set of rear mounds. Bad Apple threw back his slick-maned head and gave a titanic whinney and nicker, mixed with a moaning cry of pleasure. His trembling pole, still held completely by Luna's rear, unleashed heavy blob after heavy blob of extra-heavy pony paste. The tight squeeze of he rear forced the cum flood to pour out around his shaft and onto his lap, or to ooze up through the oil-slickened cleft.
She pulled up and forward, just in time to catch the last few fitful spits of his climax, hot, white globs of semen clinging to the glistening surface of her twin moons. Once she was sure there was no more forthcoming she pulled forward more, breathing heavily and giving soft sighs. “Such adoration. Such an offering unto your goddess. Well do we do, to show you favor, as you to give such favor in return, in greater measure. Aye, do you prove the strength of your back in accordance to your inches.”
Bad Apple just laid there on his back, panting hard and groaning a bit as the echoes of pleasure form the conclusion of such a powerful orgasm started to fade. He sucked in a deep breath and then let out a long, slow sigh before he rolled over onto shaky hooves. “It was my pleasure... and yours too, I hope. But oh, I've made a mess out of a perfect relic.”
“Fear not and naught, mine ever-devoted servitor. 'Twas only your great zeal for your precious one that led to such small offense. Indeed, 'tis no offense to offer greater than might be expected. 'Tis but a telling of the depths of devotion. I am no idle idol, but may tend mine own relics,” Luna said, using her magic to pour more oil across her backside and using her magic to wipe it around, smearing both the oil and semen until her rear expanse was looking clean and shiny once more.
Bad Apple strolled slowly over to Luna's backside and pressed his cheek against one warm swell, rubbing affectionately and giving her a soft kiss on the tender surface. “I'll adore these generous relics until you have had enough.”
“Prove your boast, and well shall you show your earnest power,” Luna said, levitating a pile of pillows over to her. She threw herself upon them, settling comfortably upon the cushioned collection. She adjusted the distribution, so that her rear was lifted just slightly, and that there were plenty of extras, on which a supplicant might lay while giving worship to her darling derriere.
Bad Apple lay down comfortably, settling onto the pillows set for him. He rested his other cheek onto her cheek, the one of his not smeared most recently with oil. His lips were set just within the cleavage of her butt, to let him kiss the inner curve of the cheek not being used as a pillow. He kissed and licked, over and over, a more sedate mode of worship, showing devotion without desperation.
Luna let out a soft, loving sigh as she rested there, her soft bottom being tended to in a fashion she found delightful. Her horn glowed a bit, levitating over a quill, an inkwell and a piece of paper. The paper was a chart, showing a generic alicorn body, and the caption, Objects of Worship. The features shown all looked to have boxes drawn in beside them, in standard black ink.
There were check marks in the boxes beside many of the features, such as the head, horn, wings, belly and teats. She quickly checked off a space beside the bottom and smiled. She stroked the feather of the quill against her chin a moment before she drew a box beside the hooves, marking them for a future date.
