To Be Loved

“I say, did you hear me, Princess Cadenza?” A stuffy voice snaps me out of my bored malaise.

“Hmm?” I reply, a little lost. The others at the round ballroom dinner table are looking at me expectantly.

Somepony kicks me under the table, and I look over at my husband. He nods his head in a subtle, but an emphatic reminder to be polite. Blue Blood repeats his question. “Wouldn’t you agree that the Griffon Kingdom’s recently revised fiscal policy represents a regression to a pre-Crystalian Liberation and isolationist stance on trade?”

“Oh…” I blink several times, then recover adequately. “They certainly are eager to reassert their position as a financial powerhouse in the region, but I think it would be prudent to judge their policy in the context of their history, rather than just in terms of short-term gains.” It’s a bullshit answer, but it seems to satisfy him. The discussion moves on, and I start to zone out again.

The conversations at these events have become so predictable. So circular. So boring. It’s not that I don’t care. I really do. After all, such matters represent my life’s work. It’s just that the minutiae of it becomes redundant and grating after a while. My elaborately styled mane itches, but I don’t dare scratch it. My eyes slowly wander over the other regal guests seated around the table. My husband Shining Armor sits directly to my left. Next to him is his little sister. Then there is our host for the evening, Prince Blue Blood. Beside him are Celestia and Luna, positively glowing in their regalia and timeless poise.

Further around the table, there are several other delegates, dignitaries and other politicians whose names I can’t remember. Waiters dart to and fro, attending to our table and a dozen others like it. A string quartet drones on pleasantly in the distance. I sigh quietly to myself and levitate a celery stalk to my mouth. As I chew, I glance at an ornate grandfather clock against the wall near our table.

8:32. The keynote address won’t even begin for another half hour. Fortunately, my husband already mentioned that a prior engagement will require our attention at 10:00. Still, if I can survive that long without passing out into my bowl of soup, it will be a minor miracle. At least one other guest seems to be sharing my misery; I meet Princess Luna’s gaze for a moment, and she half-smiles knowingly. I return the smile, then stare numbly at the table’s floral centerpiece.

Something brushes against my flank. I glance over to my right, but nothing seems amiss. The intricate folds of my dress appear to be undisturbed. I look to my left, just in time to see my husband’s tail flick back into place. I narrow my eyes at him, but he’s simply nodding in agreement at some dull observation another guest is sharing.

Fine. Two can play at this.

I levitate another celery stalk, using it as a pretense to use my magic without drawing attention. As I pretend to examine the vegetable, I send a second burst of magic to pull Shining Armor’s tail. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him freeze momentarily. I chew the celery and feign interest in some troubling discussion about the widening standard deviations in crop yields.

A sudden tickling sensation on my hind hooves makes me almost bite my tongue. I swallow the celery and purse my lips together. The conversation has moved on to the drought that is nearing emergency levels in Appaloosa. It would be incredibly inappropriate for me to laugh right now. The tickling intensifies. Out of desperation, I raise my water glass to my lips, mentally directing a surge of magic to pinch my husband’s flank.

The tickling on my hooves ceases, and the conversation moves on again. I stop pinching him, but the second I let up, he sends a soft ethereal caress over my breasts. I draw in a sharp breath and hold it, then lower the glass and glare at him. He refuses to look at me, using his magic to idly stir his soup, instead. After a few seconds, he stops teasing my breasts. My relief is short-lived, however. The magical massage slides a few inches lower and begins to gently rub my crotch. I bite my lip and stare at him, silently willing him to give it a rest.

No such luck. Just past him, and directly in my line of sight, I notice Twilight giving me a quizzical look. I can’t tell how long she’s been staring at me, but her mouth is half-open in a confused frown, and one eyebrow is raised suspiciously.

“Are you ok?” she mouths silently. I nod a little too quickly, blush, and dab my lips with my napkin.

“I’m fine.” I lie, mouthing my reply to her.

Just then, the magic gives my lower lips a soft pinch. I stifle a surprised yelp, and quickly levitate my wine glass to my lips. My breaths are a little shorter and a little quicker than I would like, and each time I exhale my breath steams up the inside of my glass. Somepony at the table is lamenting a recent deadlock in discussions between Saddle Arabia and the United Mare-ab Emirates. Without skipping a beat in his teasing, Shining offers his take on the matter.

“Although most of the time, it’s just a bunch of sabre rattling…”

His magic vibrates fiercely against my little nub.

“...there’s no harm in letting them all say their piece, even if it seems to come from a...sharp tongue.”

As he says sharp tongue, the vibrating magic surges upwards, through the opening and into my depths. I close my eyes for a minute, forcing my face to remain a mask of regal civility. The conversation moves on, but the vibrating invader stays where it is.

Wait...am I sweating now? Great.

I lower my glass slightly as I swallow a sip of Caberneigh. Peeking over the edge of the glass, I lock eyes with Celestia. I freeze. The magic between my thighs continues its invasive treatment, either not knowing or not caring that I’m dangerously close to getting busted. My eyes widen and my pupils shrink to pinpricks as I continue to meet Celestia’s gaze. Her face is a mask, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. With a gulp, I swallow the last of the wine and slowly lower my glass. His magical affections transform into a tongue, which proceeds to slide torturously over my clit. I flinch and blush harder. Unable to do anything else, I force a lame smile and shrug. Still staring at me, Celestia’s mask cracks ever so slightly. She slowly shakes her head and gives me a knowing smile.

Then she twists the knife.

“How do you like the soup, Shining Armor?” she asks my husband, her smile and cool gaze lingering on me. Tearing my eyes away from the Sun Goddess, I turn to glare at him. He continues to stir the soup magically, taking his time in answering the question.

“It’s fantastic.” He finally answers with a smile. “In fact, I think I could eat it all night.” With that, he redoubles his magical tongue torture, apparently hell-bent on ruining my social status forever.

I clench my jaw and glance at the clock.

8:34.

Are you KIDDING me? I think in exasperation. This is going to be a very long 86 minutes.