Interrupted Cadance

Chapter 4: The Sound of Hooves on Pavement

“Good afternoon, Princess.”

Cadance opened the door to the counseling room to find Silver Spoon sitting dutifully on her chair, the very picture of a polite, well-behaved young filly. She welcomed the Princess with a warm smile.

Cadance was petrified.

Oh sun, she thought. Who did she tell?

“It's, um, nice to see you in such a good mood, Silver,” Cadance said hesitantly as she entered the room, closing the door behind her.

“It's nice to see you, too, your highness,” Silver said. “There's something I need to tell you.”

Cadance let out a tiny wince. Silver noticed, but did her best not to let this on.

“Two things, actually,” the foal said. “First, I'm sorry I yelled at you yesterday. I talked things over with a friend, and I don't think I was fair to you.”

Cadance noticed a slight change in Silver Spoon's tone from yesterday. Her inflection was different, and she seemed to be drawing out her pronunciation of each word just a tiny bit, as if she were trying to give every syllable a certain level of gravity. The result was a more cultured-sounding, almost soothing way of speaking. It reminded Cadance of the tone foreign diplomats often took with her.

“Second,” Silver Spoon continued. “I'd like to see if we could start over. Can we leave what happened yesterday in the past? I know you just want to help me...”

Cadance smiled. “Of course, Silver Spoon,” she said. “I do apologize if I upset you yesterday. I guess I've had trouble understanding your point of view when it comes to your...past experiences. But I'm sure that with your help-”

Silver raised a hoof, seemingly a signal for Cadance to stop speaking, and the Princess surprised herself by complying immediately.

Wait, why did I-?

Silver Spoon began to speak, in that same practiced, cultured tone. As soon as she heard it, Cadance realized why she had deferred to the foal.

Diplomacy. Of course, she thought. When you're dealing with a diplomat, you have to treat them as your equal. After a while, that just becomes habit.

How could she possibly have known...?

“The thing is, your highness...” Silver said, trying not to stammer.

Why did I raise my hoof like that? Silver thought to herself. I can't believe I tried to silence a Princess! She's going to think I'm a stuck-up little brat now!

“Yes, Silver?” Cadance said. If she was upset at Silver's gesture, the foal could not detect it in her voice.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude just now,” Silver said. “But...you're wrong. When you say you don't understand me, I mean. I think you understand me really well, Princess. Maybe you just don't realize it.”

“Oh?” Cadance asked. “Why do you you say that?”

“Because of the secret you told me yesterday,” Silver replied.

*******

Rain is never late in Canterlot. The local weather team takes great pride in its punctuality. If the schedule says there's going to be a storm eleven minutes after midnight, then that's when it will happen.

I knew the rain wouldn't be late. And yet it felt as if it were taking far too long.

I still had five minutes. Still plenty of time to change my mind.

I looked back at the bedroom. The door was shut, but I knew he was in there. My husband. My partner. The stallion I loved more than any other pony in the world.

If I did this, would I be betraying him?

It had been two weeks since the Circle had fallen, and taken Celestia with it. As one of her first decrees, Luna had ordered the royal guards to do a total sweep of Canterlot's “more unseemly places of business.” Always the old-school royal, she'd done her best to use demure language. But we all knew what she meant.

Some things are inevitable when you live in a big city. Litter. Crowds. And a successful local sex trade. Celestia, for all the wrongs she committed, was wise enough to know that there was no getting rid of it. So instead, she tried to control it. Street prostitution was illegal, but a few select brothels were permitted under strict regulations. Shops which sold sexual books or toys were taxed just like any other store. Underground clubs catering to various tastes were tolerated, so long as they stayed out of sight. Laws were put in place so that no sex-themed establishment could operate within two blocks of another. The idea was to prevent the creation of a red-light district.

It worked. And that just made my husband's job that much harder.

Luna's edict was clear: the guards were to investigate every sexual business in town and make sure none had any Circle connections. They were to ensure that only grown ponies were involved, and that these businesses took measures to ensure that foals were kept away from their establishment at all costs.

And if the guard encountered an establishment which was involved with foals, Luna's orders were explicit and simple: “Raze it to the ground.”

It took Shining and his guards more than a week to investigate them all. Thankfully, a large majority of the places were on the up-and-up; of the several dozen establishments around town, only six had to be shut down.

My husband loves to tell a good story. He has an enthusiasm for it which just captivates me sometimes. He'll come home from work full of anecdotes about his day, and then lose himself while telling them to me. He'll laugh, wave his forelegs for emphasis, and imitate the voices of other ponies. He has a knack for telling me about his most dangerous or unpleasant assignments in a way that makes them seem downright harmless. I think he does it partially to protect me, to help me forget how dangerous his line of work is.

I never forget. I remember it every morning, when he walks out our front door. But I appreciate him trying.

But this week, his storytelling style had taken on a completely different quality. When he told me about his investigation of Canterlot's sex trade, his usual enthusiasm vanished. In its place was a certain squeamishness, an embarrassed hesitation. He still told me all about his day, though he thankfully left out any details about the places which had harbored foal molesters. But he told his stories quickly, with none of his usual flair, and always seemed to be in a hurry to move on to another topic.

My husband, the straight-laced, all-Equestrian model citizen, was the last pony who would ever walk into one of these places by choice. Even the tamest of these establishments made him deeply uncomfortable.

I tried not to let on how much hearing him speak like that upset me. It brought up too many bad memories.

It reminded me too much of what our sex life had become.

Shining loves me with all his heart. I don't doubt that for a moment. But I'm not sure if that means he desires me. Because when we make love, I can see that same embarrassed awkwardness in him that I saw when he spoke of the sex clubs. He never complains, of course. I almost wish he would. At least then I could tell he had some sort of investment in it. But his interest in sex seems to be similar to his interest in practicing military drills; it is a duty which he is obligated to perform, and he does out of love –for his wife, for his country – without hesitation, without regret.

Without enjoyment.

His focus is always completely on me: he asks what I want, works to satisfy me, and tries to do so as quickly as possible. And I play my own part in our little charade. I yelp, I moan, I tell him how good he is at pleasing me. I try not to let on how exhausting the whole exercise is.

Once or twice, I have thrown caution to the wind and asked for something different from him. I ask if I can focus on pleasuring him tonight instead. He will nod. I'll ask him what he'd like me to do.

Invariably, he will reply, “I don't know...I want to do whatever makes you happy.”

And then we return to the routine. And I try not to let him know how suffocating his kindness can feel.

For a while, I thought it was me. I thought I was doing something wrong. I tried every approach I could think of, but it seemed that my husband simply had a minimal interest in sex. The thought of another mare occurred to me, but that typically occurred when a stallion's sexual passion for his wife had fizzled, not when it had never been there in the first place.

My husband, moon bless him, is a pony who understands duty. He knows what he's expected to do, and he carries out his orders. It's not just how he approaches being captain of the guard: it's how he lives his life. The conventional wisdom is that a stallion has a duty to satisfy his wife. I am fairly certain my husband simply has no real interest in sex. Yet he does it anyway, because he loves me, and because that's what a husband does.

I wish I could appreciate what he does for me more. But I can't begin to express how exhausting it is to come home from a day of being Princess -- where other ponies split their time between bowing and scraping before you and putting the fate of the nation on your back – only to have my husband ask me, “what do you want me to do?”

So I tell him. After a long day of giving orders in a throne room, I give orders in my bedroom. And I feel utterly numb while doing so.

But that week, while he sat at the dinner table and described his investigations of the sex industry to me, I was anything but numb. Despite my husband's squeamishness, I was excited, in a way that I hadn't been in a long time. He would tell me of underground clubs where sex was a spectacle, with couples fornicating in front of crowds of ponies. He told me of stores that sold amazing magical pleasure devices, some of which were enchanted so they could keep a pony on the edge of climax for hours, unable to come until their partner said a certain word. And he spoke of one establishment in particular, the place it had taken him the longest to find.

“It's hidden in plain sight,” he said. “There's no sign out front, and no directions posted anywhere. You either know where it is or you don't. I only found out after asking around at some of the other places. There's nothing illegal going on there, but...I just don't get it...”

Shining lowered his head as he spoke. I softly brushed his mane with my hoof, hoping it would coax him to continue. I needed to hear about this place.

“I walked in, and I heard a cracking sound. It was a whip...this mare was whipping a stallion, and he was tied up, like a prisoner! And a bunch of other ponies were just standing there, watching. So of course, I was about to arrest all of them, but do you know who stopped me? The pony being whipped!”

“You don't say?” I replied, amused at my husband's naivete.

“It turned out he was a paying customer. They all were. He'd actually paid money to be tied up and whipped! I just couldn't...I mean, they weren't breaking any laws, but...”

Shining sighed. “I'll be glad when this assignment is over,” he said.

I could have let the matter drop right there. I could have changed the subject, and left well enough alone.

But for reasons I still don't completely understand, I asked him to tell me more. And I kept asking him. Until, finally, he mentioned the club's location.

What happened next was almost automatic. I'm still not sure when I took the decision, or even if I did it consciously. As far as I can remember, it happened almost the at moment he told me where the place was

It was then that I decided to wait for the rain.

*******

“Silver, listen...” Cadance said nervously. “I told you about that in confidence, and I don't think it's appropriate to be bringing it up right now. We're supposed to be talking about you...”

“Princess, believe me, I know how to keep a secret,” Silver replied, smiling. “That's not why I brought that up. I really meant what I said before. Now that I've had time to think about what you told me that night, I really think I understand you. And I think I can help you understand me, too...”

Silver closed her eyes, as if she was recalling a fond memory.

“You want me to let go of Miss Rarity, and I want that too. I really do! But I don't ever want to forget that I once loved her. And once we talk about what you did that night, I think you'll understand why.”

Cadance turned and looked at the wall. “I'm leading this session, not you,” she said. “My personal mistakes are not a topic we should be discussing.”

“Mistake?” Silver said, her voice sounding almost sad. “Why do you think it was a mistake?”

*******

The sidewalks are a small river, with water rushing toward me, washing over my hooves as I walk. It's one AM; I've been walking for half an hour. Even after the rain that I had been waiting for finally came, it took me over twenty minutes just to leave the house.

I've altered my mane color so it's light green, and my coat color has been turned a nice shade of blue. After several failed attempts, I managed to cast a spell to hide my wings, and my Cutie Mark has been changed into an image of three peaches.

No one can know it's me. A princess could never visit a place like this. A princess could never give into her base desires. A princess must be held to a higher standard. A princess must set an example.

And that is why she can never be free.

As I approach the entrance, I remove the hood of my cloak. Cold, wet rain slaps me in the face, and for just a moment, I have enough clarity of mind to realize how completely foolish I would be to go through with this.

Luckily, the moment is brief.

The building is unmarked, but otherwise nearly identical to every other store on this block. A pony could pass by it a hundred times and never give it a moment's thought.

They might not even notice the staircase to the side of the front door, which leads straight down to what appears to be a blank wall beneath the building.

They certainly wouldn't know that gaining entry is as simple as knocking on that wall three times.

The wall shimmers as the magical illusion surrounding it is broken. In its place is a door. Before I can reach for it, someone opens the door from the inside.

A large, annoyed-looking minotaur looks at me with his arms crossed.

“You got the cover fee?” he says.

I nod, and place the money in his hand.

He snorts, pockets the money, and motions for me to enter.

I look up at the sky. The rain is pouring harder than ever. It'll stop precisely at 4:30. I need to be sure I'm home by then.

Home...

And then I think of my husband. My sweet, brave, adorably skittish, impossibly kind husband.

He doesn't know where I am. He can't ever know.

“You coming or not?” the minotaur asks, and I realize I've been standing out here in the rain for over a minute while he held the door open for me.

“Oh! I'm...” An image of Shining Armor flashes through my mind. “I'm...I'm sorry.”

I walk into the door. It shuts behind me immediately.

“Have fun,” the minotaur says.

I'm at the start of a corridor, at the end of which is a red curtain.

I start to walk toward it, not sure of what I'll find on the other side.

But I can hear laughter, and moans, and a pony crying out “Again! Harder!”

For a moment, I think her voice sounds beautiful. But then I realize there's nothing unusual about it.

It's the way she's speaking. She sounds so different from the usual court ponies I deal with. No polite tone. No formal speech. No practiced inflection.

“HARDER! DON'T EVER STOP!”

Just pure, raw, lust. She sounds so alive.

And with that, all my doubts are gone.

I'm standing before the curtain now.

And now I'm pulling it back.

SOUNDS TO LISTEN FOR NEXT TIME:

A pony's sobs

A loud slap

And a filly

giving her heartfelt thanks

to a mare named Rarity