Of Swords and Hearts

by vren55

Rating: mature
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Romance, Original Character, Slice of Life, Sex
Length: 40359

It seems like a horrible idea to assign a manipulative courtesan to help a guilt-ridden war mage. It seems even crazier to pair a insane dominatrix with a veteran plagued by nightmares. But remember, love always appears in the unlikeliest of places.

“Chains,” is a sadistic dominatrix who loves to torture the stallions under her control. Winding Sheets is a cunning courtesan. Love is just a fairy tale to them.

When circumstances force them to assist with Celestia’s Veterans Rehabilitation Program, they find themselves charged with the life, stability and trust of two mentally-scarred stallions. Despite their hardened hearts, will these two mares rediscover what love actually is?

Collaborative Story with the awesome Comet Burst.

Edited by the incredible Bad_Seed_72 and Cerulean Voice
Cover art by Angelea Pheonix. Go check her work out!

Published 2014-05-30 17:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-03-03 03:24:21 UTC

Prologue

Prologue
By: vren55

One hundred years before the events of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic…

Princess Celestia exhaled slowly as she shut the door to the Council Chambers. She generally hated attending meetings or councils of any kind. Not only because they were mind-numbingly boring and filled with political backstabbing, although that definitely contributed to it. It was generally because of their depressing nature.

However, there was one event on her calendar that the princess never rescheduled. In fact, it was perhaps the only meeting of the day that she looked forward to. So, with a nod to her guards, Princess Celestia trotted quickly through the halls in Canterlot Castle.

As she made her way through the gilded hallways, Celestia stopped by a huge tapestry depicting Equestria and her surrounding neighbours. Equestria was placed in the centre, figures of peaceful villages and flourishing cities dotted the landscape. Far to the east, across the ocean, was Griffonia.

Old, wise, and forgiving as she was, Celestia could not help but frown at the various flying Griffins and their rocky aerie home. The Griffin’s invasion of Equestria had sparked the longest, and most brutal war in all of Equestria’s history. It took more than five years for Equestria to repel the Griffin attack and strike into Griffonia itself. So many of her little ponies, stallions and mares alike, had died in those years, her heart ached just to think of them. Those that had come back… they had been changed, warped by the cruelty of the war and what it forced them to do.

Sadly, Celestia switched her attention to an image of a mare playing with her children. Yet, it wasn’t just the ponies that had died, and who had never really come back which brought Celestia so much sorrow. It was what happened in Equestria itself. The economy of the once prosperous nation, stretched by the expenditures of the war, and racked by multiple Griffin raids on Equestrian crops, collapsed like a house of cards. The ponies at home, and especially the mares, had not escaped from the wars terrible effects. Too many mares had been forced to offer their bodies up to become prostitutes in order to escape starvation.

It was why Celestia could never rescheduled this appointment. For it concerned Equestria’s first step to not only healing the wounds of those who had fought, but also would save those who suffered the worst in Equestria. Her eyes set on her path, Celestia continued on.

Nearing the golden door of a small, private conference room the Princess recalled the reaction of her advisors when she had first suggested the idea of pairing broken veterans and abandoned prostitutes. Her hope was that the companionship the pair would provide each other would save both participants.

Not surprisingly, her advisors responded with dropped jaws, derision and disapproval. Still, Celestia had insisted her desire would work under certain conditions.

After a week of outlining and persuasion, Celestia’s councilmembers gave in on the condition the program be tested first on a trial group of two pairs. Celestia had acceded to this request and gathered two mares and two stallions. Nopony, including Celestia herself knew precisely what would happen, although the princess held high hopes.

Now, as Celestia opened the door she met the eager gazes of the former trial group. The three earth ponies and pegasus now led the program, and had been the first in a line of proud successes.

“Good morning, my little ponies,” greeted Celestia.

“A long day presiding over the Upper and Lower Councils, Your Highness?” asked Army Marshal Stalwart Pike, the chief liaison between the military and the program’s participants. Celestia smiled at the grin on Stalwart’s handsome features.

Not long ago that same pony had been a haunted statue. He couldn’t smile, couldn’t talk to his wife, or even face his children. Luckily, Stalwart was aware of his problems and had joined the program because he truly wanted to return to his family.

A slight hint of annoyance broke Celestia’s serene expression as her thoughts turned to the Council. “Praetor Silver Tongue is at his usual antics. He kept trying to shut down the program by reasoning it is a waste of tax dollars, while the nobles in the Upper Council continued their attempts to legislate a law punishing prostitution.”

Everypony jumped as a much younger, green-eyed, scarlet-coated earth pony cursed, before hurriedly clamping her hooves to her mouth. Celestia smiled at Scarlet Silk, who was blushing as bright as her fiery red mane, and gestured for the mare to continue. Honestly, the Princess was not surprised at Scarlet’s outburst as she counselled the mares who entered the program from entry to rehabilitation, and was fiercely protective of those in her charge.

Yet, Celestia didn’t begrudge Scarlet’s emotional outburst for another reason. Before she entered the program, Scarlet had been a high-class courtesan within the nobility and had excelled at putting stallions at ease. However, she always wore a false mask that eventually became everything she knew. When Celestia first spoke to Scarlet, it was like speaking to a well-programmed golem, eager to follow a single directive without question. Still, Celestia saw a hopeful sliver of light in Scarlet’s green eyes. It told the princess that deep inside of Scarlet, there was a pony who wished for something more.

“I’m sorry Princess Celestia, but the Praetor should know by now that our budget is attached to the money set aside for our military. Besides, we all know that if Equestria punishes the prostitutes, all the pimps will do is find new ones. I just don’t understand why they keep seeing the mares as the problem.” said Scarlet in exasperation.

“Daughter, some ponies can’t be understood or convinced. They’re just against you. Don’t waste your worry on their behalf,” said Stalwart warmly. Scarlet glanced at her adoptive father and nodded in understanding, a smile on her face.

Celestia herself felt like grinning. When Stalwart and Scarlet had been initially paired together, they didn’t get along with each other at all. Scarlet in particular was very hostile to Stalwart, whereas Stalwart simply didn’t know how to talk to Scarlet.

Yet, after the three months, Stalwart had, much to the surprise of most ponies, adopted the younger mare into his family. Celestia wasn’t entirely sure what happened between the two, but she had learnt that during the time they spent together, Scarlet had become Stalwart’s counsellor and listener, an outlet for his guilty soul. Scarlet had found in Stalwart a new father. As a result, the two became thick as thieves. It was a strange relationship, but it had done wonders for both their lives.

“On the plus side, we managed to recruit three more mares today into the program,” spoke up Rosy Lips, a tan-colored mare with a spring-green mane. Although small wrinkles had just begun to crease her eyes, Rosy still had an enthralling figure, and applied her great experience to recruit mares for the program. However, less than a year ago, Rosy had been an abused and haunted mare rescued from a Griffin slave chain. Celestia had come across her curled up beneath her hospital bed, writhing in fear as nightmares wracked her sleep. The doctors had all but given up on her as a lost cause. Yet, in Rosy’s eyes, Celestia saw a survivor whose heart hadn’t been hardened by her ordeal.

“Their ‘master’ tried to stop us, but I showed them the Royal Writ and he shut up,” said Emerald Fire, a well-built stallion with a striking emerald coat.

Emerald had a down-to-earth and trustworthy character which made him the perfect choice to monitor the program’s veteran participants. Strange that this calm, handsome stallion had once been tottering drunkenly through the streets of Canterlot. Celestia had to drag Emerald out of jail, but once coherent and listening, Emerald had signed up immediately for the program.

“Beh honest dearie. That’s not all you did, dear,” said Rosy, raising a reproving eyebrow at Emerald, now her husband.

“Maybe I was a bit persuasive, honey?” said Emerald softly kissing his wife’s cheek. Rosy blushed and sighed, but couldn’t stop the smile on her face.

The heartwarming scene momentarily distracted Celestia from the tiredness in her shoulders. To most ponies, it seemed crazy to put the jumpy Rosy with the wild and brash Emerald. Oddly enough, Rosy had thrown herself into caring for Emerald and reigning in his wild tendencies. As for Rosy, Emerald had held her throughout the nightmares, and in the day, his company eased the trauma and terror of her experiences. The couple were married scarce half a year after they had met.

“That’s good, but Lord Snapdragon and Lady… uh I mean Colonel Peony have approached me about the progress of their brother. Please tell me Lord Barding has doing better?” begged Stalwart, interrupting Celestia’s thoughts. She frowned. Lord Barding was one of their newest veterans and from the reports she had been receiving from Emerald, one of their problem patients.

Emerald shook his head. “Lord Barding and his partner got into a bar fight with our other problem stallion and his helper. The Royal Guard had to break them apart and the bar was totally trashed by then.”

“Oh no… not Paladin Golden Lance?” groaned Scarlet.

“The very same. The mare that we paired Barding with actually left him and has refused to continue to help him. Not that I’m blaming her and I’m glad she didn’t decide to leave the program altogether. Golden Lance’s partner is willing, but she’s very worried about her own safety,” said Rosy.

“Damn. It doesn’t help that Lord Barding was not only one of our best Warlocks and well known among the noble circles. He is also the son of Duke Bramble of House De Rose, whose wife is only Duchess Aventail of House Armor!” cursed Stalwart.

“And Golden Lance is one of the Paladins, our legendary shock troops. If we can’t rehabilitate him… there’s a chance many of our other veterans will lose heart,” sighed Emerald, voicing Celestia’s own thoughts.

“And this… has been their third mare for both of them? I mean I know some of our veterans are difficult, but nopony has been as resistant as the two of them. It's as if they don’t want normalcy!” groaned Scarlet.

Princess Celestia frowned, a thoughtful look in her eyes. She didn’t once consider abandoning the two stallions. They needed help and she would ensure that they would be healed, but she was acutely aware that the stakes for these two stallions were higher for the program.

A stray thought made Celestia blink and she raised her head to speak up. “Perhaps we are approaching this in the wrong way. Maybe Lord Barding and Golden Lance don’t need normalcy.”

“What do you mean, your Highness?” asked Rosy, voicing the confusion shown on the faces of the other ponies.

“All of the veterans we receive are unique in their cases. However, the cases of these two stallions are extreme even compared to the others in our programme. Extreme cases warrant extreme measures. The mares we pair the two up with should not be normal,” explained Celestia.

The ponies slowly nodded in agreement with their princess.

“Alright, let's get started. The sooner we assign Barding and Lance a mare the better off they'll be,” said Scarlet as she to give out profile sheets of the various mares in the programme.

For a long while the ponies assessed the backgrounds of the various mares in the program. But after a long hour of shuffling papers and reading, nopony had even suggested a possible candidate.

“This is getting annoying. None of these mares are extreme enough or suited for either of them,” groaned Rosy.

“Honey, if we wanted extreme, we could just hire Chains!”quipped Emerald Fire.

“We don’t want to kill the stallions, Emerald. Just draw them in the right direction,” chuckled Stalwart.

“Then you should get Winding Sheets. Though she’d probably draw all of our bits out of our pockets,” said Scarlet, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

The Princess blinked. She had heard the names of those mares. “Winding Sheets and Chains? I have heard of them. Who are they? I don’t believe I have seen them in the profiles,” said Celestia.

Celestia noticed her ponies glancing at each other nervously, as if they were hesitant to explain who these two mares were.

“That’s because they're not in the program. I’m surprised you know of them…” said Rosy glaring at her husband.

“Their reputations precede them!” exclaimed Emerald in protest. To Celestia’s mirth, Rosy rolled her eyes, smiled at Emerald’s pleading expression and kissed his cheek, rather possessively.

“I’m more surprised you’ve heard their names, your Highness,” said Scarlet

“I have my methods. After all, I sought you out originally after all didn’t I?”said Celestia with a wink, making Scarlet blush again. The Princess and the former courtesan remembered their first meeting quite well, or in Scarlet’s case, all too well. Celestia then turned back to her advisors, her brow furrowing. “But what I have only heard in passing seems so outlandish I have trouble understanding exactly who they are. Would you mind telling me more?”

Again the ponies glanced awkwardly at each other and Celestia had to wonder if the ‘outlandish’ tales she had heard about the two mares held more fact than she had first thought. Rosy coughed, “Well… whatever stories you’ve heard about them… they probably aren’t that far from the truth.”

“Those two are literally legends in their chosen paths,” said Scarlet bluntly.

Celestia blinked, but there was a curious gleam in her eyes. “Explain.”

1. Sheets's Arc: Tangled in the Winding Sheets

1. Sheets’s Arc: Tangled in the Winding Sheets
By: vren55

Winding Sheets awoke on a soft, four-poster bed with the glaring sun in her eyes. Blearily, the periwinkle unicorn blinked to clear her eyes and ran her hooves through the wavy locks of her crimson mane to try to rid herself of the sticky white legacy of last night’s activities. As she rose herself to a sitting position, she was stopped by a warm foreleg grasping at her waist.

Inwardly sighing, Winding Sheets slid a sultry smile onto her face. Slowly, methodically, she stepped over her client, hoof by hoof, before finally laying her lithe frame on top of her client. Most mares were shorter than stallions, but Sheets had been gifted with a taller, more slender body with an elegant long neck, akin to that of an alicorn. It was a frame that most mares would starve themselves to have and drew the hungry eyes of stallions in every room.

“Good morning, milord,” rasped Sheets lustily before she bent down and kissed the noble full on the lips, her tongue slipping into her client’s mouth, gently exploring it. After a moment, she withdrew her tongue, and her client returned the gesture. Opening her mouth just a little wider, Sheets allowed her client’s thick, tongue to roam in her own mouth before she broke the kiss. Gasping a bit, Sheets slowly rolled her tongue over her own lips, savoring the taste of her clients saliva.

“Do I get some morning fun?” whispered the unicorn.

Winding Sheets paused, as if in thought. “Perhaps… just remember that everything has a price, my prince,” she replied, winking slyly.

Prince Blueblood the XIV’s response was to grin widely and slide his forehooves around Sheet’s waist to better position himself. His hind-legs, still damp with cold sweat from last night’s lovemaking, rested on Sheet’s hips, holding her in place. Sheets, through half-lidded eyes, pressed her body up against Blueblood, drinking in the musky scent of his sweat tinged with cologne. Her tongue darting in and out, Sheets tickled the points of of the stallion’s ears, leaving tiny spots of moisture. When Blueblood whinnied in protest, Sheets giggled and drew light circles around the base of his ears. Only after that did she slowly began to slowly wet the inside of the unicorn’s ear, flicking in and out before slowly delving deep.

Meanwhile, the noble’s tongue roamed over Sheet’s neck, working its way down her chest and towards her belly. His long, languorous licks testified to his experience. Sheets sighed in satisfaction but refrained from grinding against the stallion.

Instead, she wrapped her forelegs around Blueblood’s shoulders and ran them through his soft mane, expertly massaging the base of his scalp and his neck. Finding the tense muscles under the prince’s coat, Sheets’s hooves applied pressure gently, yet firmly. The massage made the Prince groan in ecstasy, briefly stopping his ministrations before he turned his attention to nicking Sheets’s neck with his teeth.

Several of Blueblood’s ‘love bites’ were too hard, making Sheets’s wince. Yet, despite the pain, Sheets suppressed her annoyance. Instead, she giggled mischievously and decided to get some revenge in the form of a succession of kisses on Blueblood’s forehead, each one a little higher, a little longer than the last. Every touch of Sheets’s hooves coincided with her hooves deftly caressing the unicorn’s tense shoulders.

As her hooves pushed and rubbed harder, the kisses reached the base of Blueblood’s horn. In one swift motion, Sheets opened her mouth and engulfed the tip of the stallion’s horn just as her hooves finally released the tightest knot in his shoulder.

The stallion cried out in pleasure, his legs falling back onto the bed and stretching out in pure bliss. Completely in control, Sheets toyed with Blueblood’s horn, sucking it with her lips, her tongue lapping it slowly. Then, with the Prince lying like a doll in her hooves, Sheets tipped Blueblood's head up and captured his mouth with her lips. Slowly, as her tongue intermingled with his, Sheets’s begin to roll back onto the bed, her forelegs guiding the moaning Prince until he was positioned on top of her. Only then did she break the kiss.

“You are exquisite,” gasped Blueblood brushing a stray lock of Sheets hair from her face. The stallion was breathless, a goofy smile on his face, his eyes glazed over.

“I only live to serve, my Prince,” said Sheets demurely, bowing her head slightly. .

“Then turn around. There is something we must do if I am to reward you,” said Blueblood, his voice full of desire.

Sheets nodded in apparent submission and slowly rolled over, her luxurious purple eyes only breaking contact with Blueblood at the last possible moment. Like a cat, Sheets stretched out and raised her hindquarters towards Blueblood, wiggling her rear tantalizingly. At the same time, she flicked her long crimson tail over her back to present her perfectly shaped slender flanks that were emblazoned with her cutie mark of an elegant fan.

Obviously excited and aroused by the display, Blueblood wasted no time in placing his forehooves on her hips. Yet, as Sheets heard him shift to a better position, she chuckled silently. She knew that Blueblood craved being in control. So, she would give it to him, or at least appear to do so.

“Stallions are so silly,” thought Sheets as she licked her lips in anticipation of the final act.

“Must you leave so soon, Winding Sheets?” called Blueblood from the bed.

Sheets, her mane still damp from her time in the shower, sighed for effect, letting her features settle into a pout. “I’m afraid so, my lord.”

With practiced ease Winding Sheets dried her mane and body with the towel from the bathroom, dressed herself in her amber dress, and used her magic to fastidiously apply some perfume and red lipstick as well as blush to her cheeks. Then, holding herself in perfect posture, the periwinkle mare walked gracefully over to the noble and brushed her lips daintily across his neck, a leaving a faint red line. Before he could complain, Winding Sheets kissed him full on the lips.

“Now, none of this gets out to my wife,” said Blueblood seriously after they broke the kiss.

“Of course, Prince Blueblood,” said Sheets, smiling pertly and batting her eyelashes for effect. Her tail and her hips sashaying oh-so-slightly, Winding Sheets exited the room and silently entered the castle hallways.

This early in the morning, Canterlot Castle was quiet, perfect for Sheets to make an unnoticed exit. There were very few ponies here apart from servants. Sheets planned to linger in the garden before joining the crowd of nobles that would attend the Morning Court.

So, when Sheets noticed from the corner of her eye a teal unicorn mare dressed in a stunning blue silk morning dress, she was surprised. She was not unduly alarmed until the unicorn began to approach her. As Sheets turned to face the mare, she recognized her.

“Marquessa Wind Whistler,” said Winding Sheets, respectfully lowering her head. Even then, Sheets still stood over the shorter unicorn, forcing the marquessa to stare up into Sheets’s eyes.

“Good morning, Lady Winding Sheets. I have been looking for you,” said Wind Whistler, her tone icy.

“Me? Marquessa? F—for w—what reason?” stammered Winding Sheets innocently. However, her heart was pounding. Marquessa Wind Whistler was a highly influential figure in the court. To get on her bad side was not a good thing to do.

“You know why,” snapped Wind Whistler.

“I don’t quite understand, Marquessa,” said Sheets, hoping that the lady was not going to approach her over what she suspected.

“Lady Winding Sheets, I have played the game of court for a long time. Do you honestly think I would not become aware of your activities with my husband, you harlot?” snapped Whistler, almost screeching.

Winding Sheets fought her initial instinct to run and arched an eyebrow instead. Mentally, she was rapidly considering her options. This was bad. Somehow her liaison with Whistler’s husband, Marquis Blackhorn had leaked out. Sheets wasn’t sure how, but she knew she would have to deal with this. The marquessa could bring down Winding Sheet’s reputation, which was already being tested.

“I haven’t spoken to your husband recently. Perhaps you are referring to the business I had with Don Juan?” said Sheets airily, as if she was discussing the weather.

The color drained from Whistler’s cheeks and the unicorn quivered. Sheets resisted the temptation to laugh at Whistler’s reaction and held her tongue.

“What business did you have with Don Juan?” demanded Wind Whistler, nervously.

Sheets shrugged. “We were just trying to get to know each other better in a less formal, more intimate setting. You get the picture. The Don particularly had much to say about some of the goods he has heavilysampled and invested. He told me of a recent package of whistles and the high pitched squeal one of them made as he blew—” Pain exploded in Sheets's right cheek as Whistler slapped her. The force behind the blow took Sheets by surprise, making her lose her balance and fall onto the grass. Defiantly, Sheets raised her head to meet Whistler’s hate-filled eyes.

“This is but a taste of the future humiliation that I will bring on your head if you don’t you recall the pisspot you came from and return to it, you whore,” spat Whistler vehemently, before she turned tail and strode off. It was all Sheets could do to mask her fury and force herself to allow only a snigger to twist her cold expression.

“Thanks for the advice, Lady Whistler. Though, I would suggest you quiet that squeal of yours. Princess Celestia looks most unfavorably on adulterers,” replied Sheets coyly, just loud enough for Whistler to hear. The other mare flinched, but continued her flight, silently watched by Sheets’s narrowed eyes.

As soon as Sheets was certain Whistler had left, the unicorn gingerly rose to her hooves and brushed the grass off her dress.

“That mare hit harder than some stallions,” said Sheets ruefully, her voice tinged with worry. Gently touching her cheek Sheets winced as it ached in protest. Today had been the third time in a week that a married mare had confronted Sheets about her business ventures. Sheets had always ignored these incidents as she never left any evidence of her liaisons, but they had risen dramatically in the past month. Her social status was being threatened. A terrifying prospect, especially since the Court of Canterlot was not unlike a shark tank.

“Perhaps I should take it easy—” Sheets blinked, and blinked again, then sniffled, which was followed by her body beginning to tremble uncontrollably. Biting her lip, the unicorn quickly cantered through the garden, leaving only a trail of droplets as a sign she had ever been in the garden.

Winding Sheets winced as she wiped her cheek with her napkin. It had taken some well-applied makeup and a very complex glamor spell to hide the mark of her altercation with Wind Whistler. Despite the difficulty, Sheets saw the extent she took to disguise her injury as completely necessary.

The unicorn raised her head, taking in the chatter and bustle of Duchess Chiffon’s self-declared Evening Ball. It was one of the hottest events in the Canterlot, and rightly so. Held in the glamorous golden ballroom of Duke Iron Cross’s mansion, the Evening Ball hosted nobles from across all of Canterlot.

Unfortunately, Sheets had nothing for the pain and it took quite a bit of effort to even manage a simple smile.

“You seem slightly distracted, Lady Winding Sheets.” Sheets turned around and playfully winked at her circle of admirers, taking care not to target any single stallion. Most of them were young, single, very virile stallions. All of them vied for the attention of the mare in the ravishing, off-shoulder crimson evening gown and matching red headpiece of woven red roses eternally preserved with a magic spell. It helped that Sheets wore an exotic, musky perfume imported from Saddle Arabia.

“Thank you for your concern, Corporal Steelhead. I’m just a little tired. It’s been such a long day,” said Sheets, inserting a bit of drama into her voice. The Corporal grinned wider, his confidence boosted.

“Perhaps you would like me to fetch you a drink, Lady Sheets?” asked Steelhead shyly.

Sheets controlled the urge to giggle at Steelhead’s request as she playfully twirled a strand of her crimson mane with a slippered hoof. The Corporal was just too cute! So young, so innocent, and an army officer at that. He was one of the rare few that had managed to readjust into Equestrian society. The Griffon-Equestrian war had not just been brutal for the Equestrian economy, but for most of the younger stallions, nobles and commoners alike.

Unfortunately for Steelhead, he wasn’t the prey that Sheets was hunting for. He didn't have nearly the amount of bits that she wanted.

“Thank you so much for your kind offer, Corporal, but I think I just need a little air,” said Sheets as she maneuvered into the crowds of chatting nobles, her tail flicking teasingly at the awestruck stallions. Like a cat, Sheet’s dark-purple irises roamed through the room, observing the different groups of stallions, mares, couples, and single ponies.

Before long, a shining glint caught the corner of Sheet’s eyes. As she turned to regard the source, she allowed herself a small chuckle. The sparkle came from a many-pointed star pinned to a gold riband. The riband and star was one of many other medals and decorations that tactfully adorned a red and gold-tasseled military uniform. The outfit was worn by a coal-black pegasus. Heavy set, with a strong jaw, the stallion’s muscles rippled underneath his uniform. Admittedly, he was a bit on the mature side, but with his frame and his accolades… he would do very nicely.

Sheets took an indirect approach to her target. Head lowered to not stick out from among the crowd, she slipped through the talking nobles like a snake slithering through grass. Nearing the stallion, Sheets checked her distance, crossed her hooves, and purposely allowed herself to trip, falling towards the pegasus.

A moment of shock flitted across the stallion’s expression as Sheets bumped lightly against his side. He recovered quickly, catching Sheets and helping her back to her hooves. All according to her scheme.

“Oh, I am so sorry, my lord,” said Sheets, wearing a practiced expression of panic.

The pegasus chuckled good-naturedly. “It was no problem, Miss—”

“Winding Sheets,” said Sheets, crossing her hooves and bowing her head just a bit. So far, so good, now she had to make the stallion take her with him to a secluded place, where she could work her charms on him.

“Marshal Stalwart Pike.” Sheets smiled eagerly, the pain in her cheek forgotten. A high ranking army officer? She had scored the jackpot.

“Is there anything I can do to repay the favor, Marshall Pike?” asked Sheets, looking up at Stalwart, a demure smile dressing her pretty face.

The marshal looked thoughtful. “We can go out of this ballroom and share a drink. Its getting really stuffy in here.”

“Wonderful!” said Sheets enthusiastically, stepping in up close to the marshal’s left side, her flank slightly bumping his. The pegasus seemed slightly startled at the physical contact, but didn’t push her away. Side-by-side, the two navigated through the ballroom back into the silent hallways of the manor.

It was there Sheets made her move. Suddenly, she threw her right hoof over the marshal’s shoulder and, before he could protest, steered him into one of the many unoccupied lounges and smoking rooms. Shutting the door behind them with a well-timed kick, Sheets snaked her left leg up onto the stallion’s shoulder, stopping him from backing away from her.

“There, there, Marshal Pike. I’m just trying to repay the favor,” said Sheets seductively. This was her classic strategy. Draw the stallion alone where they could ‘sample’ her services before she left them hanging. They always came back, begging for more with gifts in hoof.

“I’m married!” protested Stalwart gruffly as he continued to step back. Sheets raised an eyebrow. Stalwart’s eyes were narrowed and he seemed to show very little interest in her. No matter. She would soon rectify that.

“Who said your wife has to know?” whispered Sheets through half-lidded eyes. She leaned forward to kiss the marshal. To her surprise, she found a upraised hoof blocking her.

“I said my wife has to know.” Stalwart glared back at Sheets with cold eyes, his expression stony. The unchanging stoicism of the stallion irritated Sheets, but she felt a small bit of admiration for Stalwart. Most noblestallions would have already given into the temptation by now, even the married ones.

“Ah, Winding Sheets. Just the mare I was looking for,” said a mare’s voice. Sheets flinched, turned her head to the darkest corner of the smoking room, and cursed under her breath. She had checked the room briefly for intruders, but now saw the figure of a pony hidden in the shadowed corner of the room.

“Scarlet Silk, when were you planning on revealing yourself?” asked Stalwart, his firm hooves breaking Sheets’s numb grasp and pushing her away. Sheets barely noticed, the alarm bells ringing in her head almost drowning out her ability to hear the stallion’s reply. The stranger and Stalwart knew each other?

“Well, you seemed to be doing admirably well. Thank you for getting her here. I can handle the rest, father,” said the mare as she stepped into the light. She was an earth pony, younger than Sheets, with a eye-catching scarlet coat, bright green eyes and a supple, well-rounded body. It was not exactly an uncommon figure, but few mares radiated such vitality and youthfulness. Her dress, an elegant, sleeveless, purple gown, was simple, but chosen well as it accentuated her ample curves. Her fiery, red mane was done up in a long braid that was alluringly draped over her shoulder.

“No can do, Scarlet. I’m staying right here on this couch until you two young mares sort this out,” said Stalwart, almost as if he was chuckling. Scarlet sighed exasperatedly as Stalwart plopped himself on one of the lounge chairs off to the side of the room, but the smile didn’t leave her face.

Sheets watched the exchange silently and found herself facing the unknown mare… Scarlet, who had somehow managed to isolate her in this room.

“So, you were looking for me. Miss...” said Sheets, cautiously. She had to figure out a way to excuse herself politely. The longer she was alone with this mare, the more danger she would be in.

“Scarlet Silk,” said the mare with a slight curtsy.

Sheets eyes narrowed imperceptibly. Somehow, the name sounded familiar. Uncomfortably familiar. “Why do I feel I have heard of that name before?”

“That’s not surprising. I was in your line of work for a long time,” said Scarlet.

“What line of work?” said Sheets obliviously, but the unicorn knew as soon as the words came out of her mouth that she had spoken them too quickly. Biting the inside of her cheek, Sheets controlled the overwhelming terror that threatened to engulf her.

Scarlet Silk was a courtesan. Perhaps she was not of the highest echelon, and she was obviously not as experienced or as mature, but she was skilled and knowledgeable enough to recognize whom Sheets was and had not only drawn her out, but set her up. It was a conclusion only confirmed by her beautiful figure and excellently picked attire.

“We don’t have to play innocent in this room, Winding Sheets,” said Scarlet in a gentle, soothing tone that momentarily calmed Sheets. Yet, as Sheets’s mind matched the style and appearance of the mare, she gasped in surprise.

Less than a year ago, Scarlet Silk was a legendarily young courtesan known as “The Gentle Caress.” Her pleasingly youthful figure could somehow attract the attention of any stallion without overpowering him with lust. In the confines of the bedroom, she was known to make stallions relax with merely whispered words and had boasted extraordinarily stamina. It was this combination of skills that allowed her to seduce numerous Counts, the Governor of Manehattan, and the Captain of the Canterlot Guard. In fact, Sheets had privately regarded Scarlet as one of her greatest rivals. Then, one day, Scarlet Silk vanished without a trace, almost into thin air, finally allowing Sheets to rise into the highest ranks of noble society.

“Ah… I remember you now, Scarlet Silk, ‘The Gentle Caress.’ What do you want?” asked Sheets warily. Most probably, Scarlet Silk was back from her hiatus and wanted to blackmail Sheets to get back into noble society. But the quiet, neutral tone to Scarlet’s voice didn’t seem to match the character of a blackmailer. Neither did the presence of her father.

“Its actually more of what I can offer you. You know of the war with Griffonia?” asked Scarlet.

“What of it?” said Sheets slowly.

“It was a disaster,” said Scarlet bluntly, Stalwart nodding in affirmation, causing Sheets to blink. Not many ponies would admit to that. Sheets decided to listen to the younger courtesan a little longer, just to find out what she wanted from her.

“So many stallions were killed, but what was worse was the stallions who survived are mere shells of themselves. I’m sure you’ve seen them around.” Sheets nodded. In fact, she had served some of them. Those were the most depressing nights she had spent, although they had paid rather well.

“Princess Celestia commissioned a secret programme to rehabilitate these veterans by pairing them with other mares in our line of work. Its called the Veterans Rehabilitation Programme. You may have heard it also called the ‘Sword Polishing Programme,’” explained Scarlet, looking at Sheets hopefully.

Sheets blinked, her mouth twitching. The twitch grew into a sneer, transformed into a giggle, then burst out into a raucous completely unladylike guffaw. Stalwart glared at Sheets, unamused, while Scarlet sighed, but Sheets couldn’t stop laughing.

“Isn’t that some rumor spread by the Royalty to make the mares sold into prostitution feel better?” asked Sheets with a snicker.

Scarlet shook her head and smiled ruefully. “I can’t blame you for your disbelief because I had a similar reaction when I first heard about it. But, I can assure you, it’s very real. Stalwart was my first partner,” said Scarlet, gesturing to the pegasus, who waved his hoof.

Sheets’s mirth evaporated, replaced by confusion that she only showed through a discerning stare. “He adopted you?”

“It’s a long story,” said Scarlet and Stalwart at the same time. The two glanced at each other, and returned each other’s grins. Sheets eyebrow rose so slightly, it was almost unnoticeable. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know… so why did she feel a spark of jealousy at the odd pair’s closeness?

“The reason I brought this program up was because we would like your help in rehabilitating a —”

“My answer is no. I don’t just serve random clients, and I like my line of work,” said Sheets, cutting off Scarlet. With that, she turned to the door..

However, Scarlet spoke up before Sheets could leave. “Your client won’t just be any stallion. He’s an elite noble spellcaster whose served with great distinction on the front. He is a younger son, but he belongs to a very old and very rich family with powerful connections to court. Moreover, your client is quite handsome, and wealthy in his own right.”

Sheets momentarily stopped as she cautiously re-assessed Scarlet’s proposition. The stallion sounded like a good catch. He had all the qualities Sheets looked for in her clients. That is, if Scarlet was actually telling the truth, which Sheets wasn’t sure she was, because it sounded too good to be true.

“I am sure that, with the Princess backing you, you can get another mare easily,” said Sheets, about to turn once more for the door. Scarlet stepped forward and blocked the way, a desperate look in her eyes.

“We’ve tried several mares and he didn’t interact well with any of them. Our noble purposely looks for trouble by provoking other ponies, drawing attention, abusing the use of his magic, and generally making a complete, utter arse of himself. We suspect he’s putting up a brave front to hide his guilt for what he did as a mage, but we can’t be certain as he just gets on the nerves of every mare we send. However, you’re extraordinarily good at hiding your feelings, and know how to play the court game better than anypony I’ve ever known. We need you,” insisted Scarlet.

Sheets frowned. “Then what’s in it for me? You honestly can’t expect to ask of my services and offer nothing?”

Scarlet seemed to relax at Sheets's question. “I made Celestia aware that you might need persuasion, so she’s offered The Golden Ticket.”

The whites in Sheets eyes grew to the size of plates and her jaw briefly dropped open before she shut it, though her eyes remained the same. “The Golden Ticket… to the Grand Galloping Gala? That’s...” Sheets remembered the humiliation and the declaration Wind Whistler had given to her her. The look on the marquessa’s face if she saw that Sheets had the coveted Golden Ticket… it would be priceless. The ticket would give her access to some of the most influential and richest stallions in Equestria. The greatest thing of all was that it would give her social immunity for a long, long time.

Sheets wide grin suddenly flipped to a frown. Wait. This offer made no sense. Why would Princess Celestia herself actually give up a Golden Ticket to her of all ponies? Surely, Scarlet had told their sovereign about her reputation and everything she had done. There was no way the pure and illustrious, Princess Celestia, would ever allow a courtesan to attend the Grand Galloping Gala! And if this offer were true… then the stallion she would be paired with probably would have very serious issues, and given the desperation Scarlet showed earlier, this was possibly the case.

And what if she failed? There was no guarantee she would get the ticket if she failed to rehabilitate the stallion before the Gala began, which was only three months from now. No, Sheets decided that accepting the offer, was highly disadvantageous. The offer promised much, but Sheets was always wary of such promises. Besides, apart from this morning's incident she had been doing quite excellently. Why should she change anything about her life?

“You’re lying. You’re saying the Princess Celestia, would honestly give up a Golden Ticket, which she normally uses to ensure the support of her parliamentary officials, to a courtesan? There’s no way anypony would offer that much,” said Sheets acidly.

“Is not the rehabilitation of a veteran soldier who has served Equestria enough?” asked Scarlet softly.

“Perhaps, but it seems way too much trouble for me to take up this job and frankly I don’t need to be ‘rehabilitated,’” said Sheets haughtily. She stepped forward and tried to push past Scarlet, but to her exasperation, the younger mare continued to block her way.

“You don’t understand…” began Scarlet.

Sheets smiled wickedly, her voice light, with a mocking edge to it. “What I don’t understand is how you decided to throw your wealth and fame away to become the private pet of a military dog whose charity you leech off of.”

Scarlet's bright cheeks paled, drained of color, while Stalwart shot to his hooves a furious expression on his face. “Take back what you said to my daughter!”/ “Don’t you dare insult my father!” snapped Scarlet and Stalwart at the same time.

For some reason, the pair’s united fury only served to widen the faint sneer on Sheets’s perfect red lips. “My apologies, but I just don’t get it. You were so young, so talented, and so successful. You had stallions willing to lick your hooves like dogs, and you threw it all away? Not even to get married to a rich stallion, but to be adopted as his daughter?” The unicorn chuckled. “And to think I once considered you my greatest rival. How far the mighty have fallen.”

Scarlet sniffed and briefly averted her gaze, tears forming in her eyes, while Sheets observed her impassively. Stalwart stood up to comfort her, but the younger mare shook her head and wiped her eyes. When Scarlet finally met Sheets’s gaze again, her eyes were anguished, but filled with inner fire, and every work she spoke seemed to fall like a hammer blow.

“Mighty? I did feel that sometimes… and I told myself that every night so that I could sleep in peace. But every word I spoke felt like I was lying to myself. Every time I threw myself on a stallion’s shoulder, my skin recoiled in disgust. Every time I raised my rump into the air… I felt like I was going to vomit and something inside of me was about to die. I had pleasure, but it lasts for just a moment before the disgust sets back in,” said Scarlet.

“I’m not you,” said Sheets curtly. Although, to Sheets aggravation, the words seemed to resonate in her mind. Old, forgotten, revolting, memories resurfaced in Sheets’s mind and she had to shake her head to clear them away. She was not weak like Scarlet, she was strong, and she was always in control of herself and her stallions.

“I know… But if you ever start having second thoughts, just go to the nearest Guards outpost and ask for my name or Stalwart Pike’s,” said Scarlet, resignedly.

“Oh, I won’t have second thoughts. Goodbye, Scarlet and Stalwart,” said Sheets airily as she walked out of the lounge and slammed the door behind her.

Sheets did her best to forget her conversation with Scarlet as she flirted and toyed with the younger stallions. Despite her best efforts, Sheets continued to reflect on the confrontation, especially as the ball wound down. That young little upstart didn’t know what she was talking about. How could she had thrown away skills, her natural-born gifts, to become a sham of a daughter? Sure, the pair seemed to click oddly well with one another, and Stalwart genuinely seemed to care about Scarlet like she was his own flesh and blood daughter. Sheets’s own parents had never considered her even remotely like...

Sheets took another sip from her drink, swallowing forcefully. She was not going to remember those years. Not today. She had a party to be in the centre of.

Ironically she was going to get her wish, but not as she expected it.

A shout broke Sheets contemplation and sent the stallions that congregated around her scurrying away. Surprised, Sheets turned to see an enraged Prince Blueblood stomping his way over to her. She blinked, what in Equestria…

“Winding Sheets, you rotten social climber! How dare you make up a baseless rumor to insult my personage and my wife!” roared Blueblood, pointing his hoof at her. Sheets stared at Blueblood, her telekinesis almost failing, leading her glass to wobble and spill a few drops.

“Prince Blueblood? How have I offended you?” asked Sheets, bewilderment taking the place of her carefully maintained smile.

“You dare deny you created a rumor, in which you boasted I slept with you when I’m married?” roared Blueblood. The blood drained from Sheets face. Rumor? What rumor? She hadn’t said anything about her visits with Blueblood. She knew better than to offend the Prince of all stallions.

“I did no such thing!” protested Sheets. She glanced to the crowd gathering around her, looking for somepony to lambast the furious prince for accosting her. But her stallion admirers had vanished, and nopony dared to go against Blueblood. Surrounded by a circle of watching eyes, Sheets found herself alone… like she always had been.

“And you still lie to the Prince of Equestria’s face? Take this as a reward for your audacity!” snarled Blueblood. With that, the Prince tossed the contents of his glass into Sheet’s face.

Cold, purple drops of wine trickled down Sheets face, ruining the fragrance of her perfume and staining her dress. Before she could stop herself, Sheets’s own glass exploded in a shower of glass shards and drops. She found her mouth moving on its own, an ear-piercing screech directed solely on Blueblood.

“You flankhole! We had an agreement! I gave you what you wanted and kept up my end of the bargain!”

Blueblood’s leer stabbed like ice into Sheets’s stomach. “And you should remember your place under me and licking my hooves, you whore!”

Silence. It was as if sound itself had been sucked out of the entire ballroom. Sheets suddenly realized that the music, the chatter, even the breath of the ponies surrounding them had disappeared. Other ponies…

Oh no… Blueblood had reached the same conclusion and the look of horror on his face would have been priceless in any other situation. After a whimpering like a filly, the Prince fled into the crowd of shocked ponies. Sheets stood in the centre in a circle of whispering ponies, dead to the world around her. Slowly, hesitantly, she turned around, denying with every fibre in her body, the glares of suspicion, the harsh accusations, the whispers...

Revenge. Sheets immediately realized the mare that had done this. Her eyes spinning like homing spells, Sheets searched the crowd for her true assailant, and found her exactly where she expected her to be, just on the edges of the circle, smiling devilishly. On a warpath, Sheets strode toward the unicorn, shoving aside several stallions to do so.

Wind Whistler merely observed Sheets approach smugly. Though, as Sheets thrust her face up close to Whistler’s, she noticed with slight pleasure that the marquessa’s tail twitched nervously.

“Wind Whistler! You’ll pay for this,” hissed Sheets, momentarily blinking away the wine that stung her eyes. Wind Whistler must have made a guess and spread the rumor in anticipation that the oaf Blueblood would go after her. In all her life, she had never been this humiliated by anypony. She actually was contemplating strangling the mare with her magic right now and then.

Yet, instead of being frightened, the marquessa tittered cheekily, sending a shiver down Sheets’s spine. “So what. You can’t do anything compared to what I’ve done to you. Or what you’ve done to yourself. Humiliating Prince Blueblood was just a bonus,” snickered Whistler.

Sheets froze, at a loss for words for the first time in her life. What could she do? How could she get back at Whistler? Avenues of vengeance, connections that she could use, all of them began to disappear and rot away. She had basically told everypony she had slept with Prince Blueblood. Nopony would come to ask for her services. At least not until there was a new scandal and who knows when that would happen? There was nopony she could turn to and nopony who would listen. She was alone, with no options. She’d be lucky if Celestia herself didn’t purge her with holy fire.

“I’ll…” spluttered Sheets.

“Do what, you whore? Raise that skinny flank of yours into the air and sleep around with a couple more stallions? I don’t think so. Too many mares will be watching their husbands from now on. No other ponies will want to be tangled up in your sheets. Now watch deary, as your hard-built ‘reputation’ falls apart, one brick at a time.” Vindictively, Whistler raised her glass and let the edge drop. Sheets’s numb mind registered the freezing sensation of yet another glass of wine being slowly drizzled onto the crown of her head, but her soaked body would not move. She refused to believe this was happening, but the fact she was shivering at the cold wine that drenched her dress proved otherwise.

The marquessa sneered at Sheets before turning tail and strutting away. “See you later, darling.”

Sheets wasn’t sure how long she simply stood, listening to the drip of wine falling onto the floor from the tangled, soggy mess of her mane.

In the tumult of anguish, fury, and urge to break down into uncontrollable sobs, Sheets mind latched onto the one truly comforting memory she had. It was a recent memory that she so stupidly had been trying to forget earlier.

“She’s offered the Golden Ticket.”

Sheets heaved in a long breath. The Golden Ticket to the Grand Galloping Gala. It would solve her problems. It would save her from the social disgrace she was in and silence that horrible Wind Whistler. That is… if Celestia was going to give it to her. The proposition seemed so… fantastical, but it was her only lifeline. Galvanized into action, Sheets raised her head and charged through the ballroom, her hooves pounding on the dance floor as she raced for its exit. All the while, her panicked eyes searched the crowd of leaving ponies, doing its best to ignore their curious glances.

She had to find Scarlet as soon as possible. A part of Sheets’s rational mind remembered that Scarlet had told Sheets to approach her anytime. However, who was to say that Scarlet would not give the position away? After all, Sheets lambasted Scarlet and insulted her. Most ponies would take that as an affront to their pride and simply clear off. The fact that Scarlet had actually kept her offer open…

Would Scarlet still give her the position though? Sheets throat clenched in dread as she bulled past two stallions, not caring that she spilt their drinks. Already Sheets could hear the laughter echoing from behind her, every giggle, every titter pierced her heart like tiny lances. Her ears flattening to shut out her surroundings, Sheets desperately looked around the entrance hall, but all she could find were numerous ponies exiting the mansion.

A horrifying thought slammed into Sheets’s mind. What if Scarlet and Stalwart had already left? What if she had so offended them that they had simply exited the party? Cold fear forced Sheets’s tired body onward. Her red dancing slippers thwacking against the carpet, Sheets sprang into open air outside of the mansion, her blurry eyes searching the elegant carriages lining up in front of the mansion.

Out in the darkening night, barely within sight, Sheets finally found the earth pony and Stalwart Pike. They were just about to set out into the Canterlot night in their carriage. Terrified that she would lose her them, Sheets screamed her last hope to the heavens.

“Scarlet Silk!”

Scarlet spun around and gasped. To Sheets’s eternal relief, instead of laughing uprariously at her dripping wine and ruined dress, Scarlet’s cheerful expression turned into one of horrified concern. Recklessly, she jumped out of the moving carriage and galloped to Sheets’s, who had stopped, head bowed. From a pocket in her dress, Scarlet produced a hoofkerchief and began to dab away at the wine dripping down Sheets’s face. Sheets was so tired, and so grateful that Scarlet wasn’t mocking her, that she just stood silently.

“Oh my Celestia, what happened, Sheets? Who in Tartarus did this to you?” said Scarlet, the vehemence in her voice clear. Stalwart, the gentlecoat he was, undid his cloak and threw it over Sheets’s trembling frame.

“Nothing happened… I… ” Sheets took a deep breath, shut her moist eyes, and wrestled with the overwhelming pressure in her throat. She dug her hooves into the ground and bit her lip until she felt like it was going to bleed, but it was too much. Sheets was about to lose control when Scarlet placed a comforting hoof on Sheets’s knee. That touch of warmth calmed Sheets down enough so that she only let out a long sigh.

“I need y—” Sheets swallowed. “I accept your offer... If you still want to have me?” whispered Sheets. She knew Scarlet could withdraw her request. All because she was foolish enough to spurn Scarlet’s attempts to persuade her in the first place.

Scarlet stared at Sheets in disbelief, jaw agape, not saying a word. Sheets cringed, averted her gaze, and braced herself for the inevitable rejection. Silently, she berated herself for her foolishness and how she should have known better than to expect mercy from a mare she had scorned.

Yet, to Sheets’s shock, a wide smile grew on Scarlet’s features. Sheets thought she was hallucinating, until Scarlet moved forward and embraced her, wine-drenched state and all.

“We would love to have you with us. Welcome to the program, Winding Sheets.”

1. Chains's Arc: Chains and Whips

1. Chains's Arc: Chains and Whips

By: Comet Burst

The muffled sounds of a stallion shouting echoed throughout the brothel, making many members of the clients shift nervously. To all the mares who slinked about throughout the establishment, the sound was quite familiar, but even they were still unnerved by the ambient noises. In a place like this, the mood was usually dark and seductive, a wonderful place to have some illicit fun, but the constant ear-piercing shrieks kill the mood.

Deep in the bowels of the darkened hallways, the screams seemed to get louder as one pair of ponies strolled slowly to a room. The stallion’s eyes twitched nervously as the mare led him in, locking onto a beaten wooden door at the end of the hallway. It was old and splintering, illuminated by several candles that gave it an ominous feel. The word ‘Chains’ was scrawled across the door in messy black paint, adding to the menace.

“W-what is t-that?” he asked nervously, turning to his escort.

The mare glanced to the door with an unimpressed look as another scream pierced the air around them, louder than the last. She pushed open one of the doors, leading into a dimly lit room dominated by an extra-large bed. Once both of them entered, she closed the door in a finite way and turned to the stallion, a lustful look in her eyes.

“Oh, that’s nothing.” she replied, laying a soft kiss on the stallion’s lips.

The muffled scream cut through the air again, causing the stallion to jump.

“What is that?!” he nearly shouted, “It sounds like somepony is being tortured!”

“Because he is,” the mare replied softly, leading the stallion to the bed with a gentle push, “He’s having a session with Chains, the freakiest mare this side of Equestria.”

The stallion winced as the two of them clambered onto the bed, the scream this time ending in a whimper.

“W-What is she doing to him?” he asked, fear filling his voice.

The mares eyes flashed, not with lust, but with a look of disgust.

“Putting him through hell,” she answered coldly.

Behind the wooden door, a series of mysterious black objects lay littered around the room, barely visible from the candles on the walls. Chains hung from the ceiling, the metal harnesses clinking gently as they vibrated with the screams. Behind all of the clutter, a stallion lay pinned to the floor, his legs held firmly in place by leather straps snaking their way from a frame beneath him. He closed his eyes tightly, biting down as hard as he could on the piece of wood.

Above him stood a gray mare wearing a skintight bodysuit of shiny black. Her face was hidden behind a gimp mask of the same material with only her ears, eyes and mouth exposed. A maniacal grin was spread across her muzzle, a whip lengthy between clenched between her pale white teeth. Her irises of baby blue were almost pinpricks as she watched her charge squirm helplessly before her, mad with power. Slowly, she leaned her head back, pausing for a brief moment as she looked at the ceiling before it snapped forward, the whip cracking violently through the air. It struck home and her charge gave a satisfying scream that only egged her on even more.

Pulling her lips back into a sadistic smile, she began her slow walk back to the stallion who filled the room with his heavy breathing. He was such a good participant, begging her to punish him the way only she could. The satisfying screams and moans of pleasure that came from him gave her inspiration to keep going. She contemplated giving him one more, if only to make sure he got his bits worth out of her, but she decided against it. One more strike and he would surely not resist waiting until she was ready, which was something she couldn’t stand. Slaves didn’t get to be happy before their masters did, even if he was paying for it. As she rounded his twitching body, she could tell he was ready. Everything from the way his legs tried to pull themselves free of his restraints to the bloodshot eyes that watched her explained what he wanted in ways his voice simply couldn’t.

“Why did you stop?” he groaned through his panting.

She made a small noise of indignation, pausing in her stride. She locked eyes with him, hers still on the tipping point of insanity. Slowly, she lowered herself down to him and set the whip on the floor like it was made of solid gold.

“Well well, aren’t you just an impertinent little freak?” she hissed to him. “Always about you, you, you. I got some news for you, though. Here, you only get what I give you, not the other way around. In here…”

She leaned in closer to his ear, the appendage standing on end.

“... I’m the bucking queen,” She whispered in an almost loving tone.

The stallion’s breathing picked up quickly as he began to fight his restraints, evidently more turned on than ever before. The mare eased herself back, raising herself to her full height as he snorted and struggled harder, his eyes filled with lust. She was the most insane, scary and downright kinkiest mare he had ever met, and she knew it.

“I suppose,” she began in a playful tone, switching gears almost too quickly, “I could allow you to… relieve yourself. Only on one condition, though: you wait until I tell you to. Deal?”

The stallion sounded more like a rabid animal as he agreed, nodding his head frantically. Gingerly, she leaned down bit onto the end of the whip, lifting it into the air and laying it across the stallion’s neck. With slow and purposeful moves, she brought the rest of it around his neck and wrapped it into a makeshift noose. The stallion kept grunting as he watched her, his excitement hardly contained.

“I’m going to ask you this once,” she cut in through his grunts, “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” he rasped, his voice hoarse from his screaming, “do it.”

Her grin widened even more as her eyes lit up, as if she was hoping he would say yes.

“Yes… what?” she asked in an almost demanding tone.

“Yes, Mistress Chains.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the whip tightened around his neck, cutting off the passage of air to his lungs. Chains held him there, his mouth flopping open and closed like a fish while he struggled to breathe. Her insane look seemed more pointed now as the whip stood at attention from her mouth to his neck, the psychotic grin fitting her perfectly. She counted to five in her head before loosening her stranglehold, allowing him to suck down a breath. However, a new scent rose into the still air around them, one that Chain knew all too well.

The stallion hadn’t listened to her. He had not waited for her command.

As the stallion breathed, his eyes grew wide and a satisfied grin stretched across his face. While he reveled in the intense aftermath of his unplanned release, behind him, Chains’s smile went from insanely happy to a look of utter shock as she lost touch with the outside world.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.

“Oh man, that was awesome!” he said in a breathless tone.

Before he could praise his mistress, however, a stabbing pain rocketed through his rear leg, right at his ankle joint. His smile contorted itself into a look of pure agony as he opened his mouth to scream, but the whip around his neck silenced him before it could happen. The whites of his eyes became the most prominent part of them as his pupils shrink to pinpricks. Behind him, Chains stared down at him with a look of utter contempt.

“You filthy, disgusting little swine!” she screeched through the whip in her mouth. “I told you not to release until I gave you permission!”

The stallion’s only response was a soft gurgle as his cheeks began to turn a shade of cherry red. Frantically, his eyes swiveled around as he searched for Chains, only to stare forward as the whip tightened more.

“You think I’m just some pathetic whore, huh?! One who will just roll over and let you do whatever you please, is that right?! I told you, in here, I’m the bucking QUEEN!”

Chains gave a sharp tug at the whip, pulling the stallion’s head back just enough to where his terrified eyes could see her from under his disgusting hairline. She loosened her grip on the whip, allowing the stallion’s head to snap back forward where he could gasp for any air he could.

“You like it when I hurt you?” Chains growled in a deadly tone as her eyes locked onto the leg she was standing on. “Then how about I give you a little PARTING GIFT?!”

As soon as she shouted, her foreleg lifted and slammed down on the stallion’s ankle joint. It resisted the pressure for all of a millisecond before it gave with a loud crack, followed by the screams of the stallion it was attached to. Chains breathed heavily as she removed her hoof, admiring the damage she had done. His hoof hung loosely from the restraint, obviously broken. His shouts pitch raised to unearthly levels as he struggled to get himself free. Chains, however, casually stepped away from him as if he was nothing more than a piece of equipment and headed over to a simple empty table. She pulled herself up and undid the mask, revealing her full face and luscious jet black mane as the shiny material peeled away from her skin.

“Such a pathetic wimp,” she muttered as she spun around to face the lad, pity written on her face. “You just couldn’t listen to me, could you?”

The stallion turned a fearful eye to her as she trotted past him, her nose in the air. Chains could still feel the excitement of being in control coursing through her veins, but her charge’s premature expelling had caused the buzz to taper off. It was a pity, too, because she was known for doing some interesting things if they listened, especially when she allowed them to release. The stallion began to whimper pathetically as she pulled the door open, throwing a sad glance at him.

“Aww,” she said in a mock baby voice. “Is the little guy all upset now? Did he get hurt playing with fire? Maybe he should’ve listened to his mommy and not played with matches.”

Chains smirked at him before leaving the room, pulling the creaky wooden door shut behind him. After the moaning and screaming in her room, the hallway was unnaturally quiet. As she stood outside her door and breathed deeply, some sounds began to come to her. Several were of carnal moans coming from both stallions and mares in the rooms lining the hallway while others were the creaking of worn bedsprings. Much to her satisfaction, though, the sound of a pony crying came from behind her. With a spring in her step, Chains left for the front desk in order to inform them that her charge needed a doctor.

Chains sat glumly in the carriage as it rumbled along the cobblestone streets, staring at a small speck of black on the wood in front of her. It wasn’t of any particular interest, but it kept her mind and eyes busy. Her thoughts remained mostly in control, but she figured this wasn’t really needed. Jail seemed a bit extreme for a reaction to a stallion with a broken hoof, but what did she care? She was used to being extreme and even liked it.

The guards hadn’t been exactly gentle with her after they had arrived. The recent war with the Gryphons had made them pretty hard and callous, at least those who came back with all their limbs intact. They barely conducted an investigation before shoving her outside and into the carriage, but Chains didn’t exactly protest either. Rough play only made her more excited, so she allowed herself to be shoved around and even hit by one of them. All of the other prostitutes at the brothel didn’t say anything as they watched her leave, some even breathing a sigh of relief from what she could see. Their actions stung at her pride, even though she didn’t know any of them personally. They all had avoided her like she was a feral animal in their midst, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

After about three more minutes had passed, the carriage came to a stop and Chains could hear the guards moving around it. That was when it occurred to her that, despite her session earlier, she didn’t get her own release. Why she thought of it was beyond her reasoning, but she could probably get one of the guards —if not a few of them— to help her. It was always more fun when she had an audience. The door creaked open and the stern face of a slate-gray unicorn guard with purple eyes glared lazily at her. He would make a fine little pet for her to abuse if she could get him excited enough.

“Out. Now.” He spoke tonelessly.

Chains proceeded to ignore his command, preferring to take her time stretching. She lifted her forehooves above her head, steadily leaned away from him, and fell onto her back, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“Oh, but I’m so comfortable,” she purred, knowing that he was watching.

She was pulled by her tail out of the carriage, landing hard on the cobblestone street below. A sharp pain shot through her back and she gasped in pleasure, writhing suggestively. Standing above her, the stallion glared down without the slightest hint of interest.

“Get up and move.” His toneless voice rang out again.

Chains didn’t argue, but she made sure to seem as inviting as she could to the unicorn. Her tail hardly stayed in one place and she made sure to stretch often, but he kept his eyes forward and pushed her when needed. It took a while, but eventually they made it to a dingy cell that contained a single bucket, a mattress lying on the floor, and more green moss than a swamp. Chains eyed her new abode with mild excitement before the guard forced her in with magic. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving her all alone in her new den.

“Aw, you’re not going to join me?”

The stallion merely snorted in response, watching her like a hawk.

“You are hereby charged with aggravated assault and battery,” he spok, “You will remain here until an official case is filed.”

“You will play with me though, won’t you?”

The stallion turned and marched away without another word, leaving Chains all by herself. The silence of the empty cell wiped her innocent smile from her muzzle, replaced by a frown. Glumly, Chains trotted away from the bars and into the darkness of the damp cell.

The walls were slimy, cold and, quite frankly, uncomfortable as hell on her back. There was no point of light in the cell, just a cold and stuffy mass of air that pressed her into the moss. As she scanned the cell around her, she began to wonder how she had gotten here. The stupid stallion had gotten what he deserved, even if he didn’t agree. A small smile crept onto her face as she thought of that; he would obviously listen from now on.

No, what puzzled her was how she got here, as in this point in her life. While it was no five-star drama, it was still not just one disaster after another. Her parents had both died in the war, her father being a soldier and her mother as a field nurse. Chains grimaced at the memory, a sense of hate building in her chest. After their untimely demise, the economy collapsed and she joined the throngs of mares who became personal escorts.

Chains scrunched up her nose at that, some of her most hated memories coming back. She had been drilled in all the ways to pleasure a stallion properly and was unceremoniously thrown to them. She did okay, but it got boring after a while. That was when the beatings came, along with her “education” on being a dominatrix. Drinking deep of the intoxicating power of those sessions, she quickly found herself a much sought-after dominatrix with legends she had to live up to. Overall, life was good as long as the stallion waited for her signal and begged occasionally.

Still, this place could be comfortable. She looked around, admiring the darkness and cramped space. It almost felt as cozy as her den back at the brothel. It even came with a locked door, just like home. Settling herself in, she let her eyelids close over her baby blue eyes and soon felt sleep embrace her. At least she could catch up on that while she waited for the master to come and fetch her.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been in the cell, but her eyes snapped open at the sound of hooves trotting across the cold stones. Chains shook her head, not even aware she had fallen asleep while she waited. It didn’t surprise her, though, as her line of work rarely allowed her to sleep peacefully, so being alone for a while was quite the treat. Leaning forward, Chains stretched herself out, feeling her joints pop in a satisfying manner. A couple muffled voices echoed over to her, distorted by the stone walls. What sounded like a mare’s voice was the loudest noise, but a couple stallions were in the background. Did her boss send one of the mares from the brothel to come get her?

Much to Chains’s surprise, a tan earth pony mare walked out in front of the cell. She was a very ravishing looking mare, sporting a wonderfully colored spring green mane. She had a few wrinkles were here and there, as well as a tired look in her eyes, but she wore a sweet smile on her rosy red lips that Chains had seen many times before. This was obviously one of the escorts from the upper echelons of Canterlot, one of the noble’s personal stock. She immediately began to press herself into the tiny corner of her cell, hoping that she would just leave.

As luck would have it, the mare stopped right in front of her cell, peering into it with her sparkling rose eyes. Contempt began to build in Chains’s chest as the mare backed away a bit, looking over to the other cells in confusion.

“Emerald?” the mare called. “Are you sure she’s here?”

Chains heard the sound of hooves shuffling as the mare was joined by a handsome stallion, tall and strong. He was well-built, much like the soldiers who had thrown her in here earlier. His stunning emerald-green coat almost outshined the tan of the mare, but he peered into the cell as well, obviously searching for her.

“The guards said this was it,” he stated with skeptical certainty. “Cell —”

“Are you looking for me, handsome?” Chains cooed, not yet revealing herself.

Both ponies froze at that, staring into the depths of the cell with wide eyes. From the furthest corner of the darkness, a glowing set of baby blue irises peeked around to them. It took a few seconds for the mare to speak up again.

“Um, hello? Is this Chains?” The mare spoke.

Chains suppressed a growl in her throat.

“And who wants to know?”

“My name is Rosy Lips. I’m here on a special mission from Princess Celestia.”

Chains’s interest piqued a bit at that.

“Then why did the illustrious Sun Princess send a high-class tramp and a noble to come and talk with me?” She spoke smoothly, watching Rosy Lips’s face pale and Emerald’s face contort in rage.

“Do not speak to my wife that way!” He called out. He was about to say more, but Rosy lifted a hoof up and touched his side.

“Let me handle this, dear,” she said softly. “Remember, we need to reason with her.”

Chains almost let a laugh escape her throat at that. They came here to reason with her? What on Equestria could they want to reason with her for? If they knew anything about her past, her name, then they knew she only reasoned one way: with either her or the opposer kneeling and begging for more.

Still, Rosy looked back into the cell and spoke, despite not having a clue where Chains was. “Chains, I know who you are. My name is —”

“Rosy Lips. Such a sweet name.”

“Ahem, yes. Since you already know me, then you probably know why I came here. I have an offer for you from Princess Celestia herself. Can I please talk to you face-to-face about this?”

Chains could feel her contempt for this mare growing. Princess Celestia sent her to offer a deal? Something smelled fishy here and it certainly wasn’t the damp-green moss. However, one did not deny acquiescing to a royal emissary. Reluctantly, she strode slowly out from the shadows and up to the bars, smiling maniacally the whole time. Rosy stiffened at the sight of her, but remained neutral to her appearance.

“And what does my liege want from a simple criminal like me?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from every line. “I doubt she’s into what I specialize in.”

“You’d be surprised, Chains,” Rosy Lips said, her rosey eyes locking onto hers. “In fact, she is very interested in your line of work.”

Chains was unsure of how to answer that, but managed to keep her cool. Her smile never faltered as she came up with a response.

“I didn’t know the Princess had such a profound interest in dominatrixes. How quaint it is that I seemed to have tickled her fancy.” She hissed as if she was talking to one of her clients.

“She has an interest in all of us,” Rosy replied, unfazed by the comment. “The war has done terrible things to this country and Princess Celestia wants to fix them. Have you heard of the Rehabilitation Program?”

“Oh, the war, the war,” Chains quipped, rolling her eyes. “And what do you know about it that I don’t?”

Rosy narrowed her eyes to Chains, wondering if she should put her in her place before continuing. To her side, Emerald gulped as his gaze shifted between his wife and the mare he was glad was behind the set of bars.

“I know far more than you,” Rosy said as seriously as she could, “I went to the battlelines to take care of the wounded soldiers and feed the young ones who died the next day. I was even captured.”

She paused, her face contorted in an expression of pain, before she finished her thought.

“I was forced into slavery by the gryphons, so do not test me on what I know about the war.”

Chains’s grin melted away as Rosy finished speaking. Planting her rump on the hard stone beneath her, Chains continued to stare out of the cell right into Rosy’s unflinching eyes.

“So what is this deal you say the Princess has for me?” She began, her voice no longer laced with sarcasm or lust, “What services could I possibly be able to supply for her Majesty?”

“The same one I did,” Rosy replied without hesitation. “To help rehabilitate a soldier.”

She glanced over to Emerald, who nodded in approval. It had been a while since she had fully rehabilitated him from his bouts of war-induced anger as well as herself from the life of a prostitute, proving the program worked. Turning back to Chains, however, she noticed a strange smile had crept onto her face. Not the insane grin she wore earlier, but one of a pony finally understanding a joke.

Chains chuckled. “That’s a real thing? Seriously? The Rehab Program actually exists?”

“Yes…” Rosy said slowly, “The goal of it is to help Equestria recover from the toll the war took on us.”

“Bah ha ha ha ha! That’s too funny! And here I thought it was just another one of those dumb stories mares passed around to feel better! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!” Chains’s hysterical laughter echoed around the empty cell as she lowered her head, pounding a hoof into the stone floor.

Emerald gritted his teeth as Chains kept laughing, but Rosy remained unaffected.

“And why is that so funny?” she asked.

“B-b-because! Y-you want me to help rehabilitate a soldier!” Chains spoke between breaths and laughs. “And here I was thinking the Princess had a thing for domination! Me, help a soldier recover?! Bwa ha ha ha ha!”

“This was a bad idea,” Emerald muttered to Rosy while Chains continued to laugh her head off. “I thought it was a long shot, but this won’t work out. She’s completely crazy.”

Rosy sighed as well. She watched Chains laugh her head off manically, wondering just why she was so hard to reason with. There had to be some way to communicate with her. Everypony had something they wanted, something they cared about. Painful memories of the gryphons who tortured her came back, along with an idea. As much as she hated them for what they did, the technique of using what a pony cared about against them was a powerful tool. Gulping hard, she forced herself to remember the line of questioning they used.

“Chains,” she asked slowly, “do you enjoy this?”

She knew the answer to the question already, but it would get her talking.

“Ha ha ha! What do you think?!” Chains almost shouted, wiping a tear from her eye. “I love this job! I love everything about it: the power, the control, and, best of all, the pleasure.”

Rosy let her words sink in for a bit, watching Chains for any kind of reaction. Much to her surprise, she saw exactly what she was hoping to see. Chains broke eye contact, her eyelid twitching for a second before before she met her gaze again. Rosy knew right then that there was something on her mind.

“Do you?” Rosy asked earnestly.

The most spectacular thing happened right then. In an instant, Chains’s wicked smile vanished and her eyes lost the darkness that filled them. In their place, a deep-seated hate began to glow behind her baby blue eyes as an frown took center stage on her muzzle.

“Shut up,” she growled, “I told you I do, so leave if you’ve got nothing better to offer me.”

Rosy took this as a cue. Chains’s hard mask was beginning to crack.

“But you don’t. How could anypony possibly like being considered as some sex object?”

Chains ground her teeth behind her lips. Who did Rosy think she was, talking down at her like she knew better?

“Because I like it when I stallions pay for me to break them. I love it. I love the feeling of control, the sound of them begging for more. I love everything about what I do!” She shrieked back in an acid-laced tone, pounding her hoof into the floor.

Rosy didn’t respond right away. Simply from her manner of speaking, it was easy to tell Chains was deflecting Rosy’s questions. It almost felt as if she was talking to one of the younger mares back when she was a member of the brothel. Perhaps a little affection could open her up more. A small smile picked up on her rosy red lips, sincere despite the disrespectful way Chains was speaking to her.

“Chains, I can see that you’re a beautiful young mare underneath that mask. I don’t know what made you like this, but I’m sorry it happened. Young mares like you don’t deserve this life.”

The anger in Chains’s stare seemed to intensify threefold at that, a sign Rosy was getting somewhere with her. Her former tormentors in Gryffonia would be proud, despite how much she hated them.

“Get away from me.” Chains growled in a more deadly tone. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything! You don’t know what I feel or why I’m here and you never will!”

“Chains, I truly am sorry about whatever happened to you, but you don’t have to be like this.”

“Shut up! I want to be like this! I have never been normal and I don’t want to be! This is all I’ve ever known since my parents died in that stupid war!”

Silence rang out after that outburst, everypony staring in complete shock. Chains clamped her mouth shut instantaneously while Rosy stared in disbelief, the memories of the gryphon tormenters returning. She could see their smug smiles and felt a pit in her stomach. Hoping to to soothe her now guilty conscious, she tried to say something in return.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Chains. I didn’t—”

“Go away. I don’t want to be part of your stupid program and I don’t need your pity. I am happy with who I am, even if you’re not.”

Rosy kept her silence, knowing it was futile to argue with her right now. After an emotional outburst like that, it would take a while for her to think it over with a clear mind. Before she left, though, there had to be a reward for her to consider.

“I will, but I want you to remember this, Chains. There’s a poor stallion out there who needs you in more ways than you know.”

With that, Rosy turned away from the poor mare locked in the dark cell, sorrow welling up in her chest. With a small nod, Emerald followed her away from the cell, glancing once more to Chains before rounding the corner with his wife.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he mumbled to Rosy, “I knew she was crazy, but not that bad.”

“She’s not crazy,” Rosy replied. “She just needs somepony to understand her the same way we needed each other to.”

Emerald grimaced. He preferred not to think of his wife in any similar way to Chains, but he couldn’t argue against her point. When they had first met, Rosy was very off-kilter, waking up to terrible nightmares and flinching whenever he said anything to her, like she was afraid he would attack her at a moment’s notice. It was only after piecing together her tearful sniffles and whispered admissions did he find out how she had been massively traumatized by the abuse she received while in captivity, but she had never delved into the madness that gripped Chains. The pair had almost let the door shut when a shout of what sounded like anger rang out. They immediately froze, only to hear it ring out once more, clearer than the last. Even Emerald could tell that it came from Chains.

Turning around, Rosy ran back towards the cell, Emerald following behind closely. Their hooves rang out on the stone, echoing louder and louder as they approached their target. In a few moments, they both stood at the bars, watching the back of Chains’ head as she leaned back against the bars, her ears pressed to her head.

“If I agree to this,” Chains said slowly, “I do it my way. No rules or restrictions, no following me and whoever the buck I’m with. Do you understand?”

Rosy allowed herself a small smile. Perhaps there was some hope for Chains after all.

“Of course, Chains,” she said sweetly, “All that is required is that you meet with me once in a while to discuss how things are going. Does that sound reasonable?”

Chains grunted, but didn’t argue back. It took a while for either pony to speak up again, but, luckily, it was Rosy.

“Chains?”

“Yes, that’s fine.” she spat back.

Relief washed across Rosy’s face, a sight Emerald had not seen in a long time.

“Okay. I think you may find out that this will be the best thing to happen to you.”

“One last thing,” Chains said, breaking Rosy’s line of thought. “Stop calling me Chains.”

Rosy’s eyes widened. She was in a very precarious position here and the slightest incorrect wording would make her change her mind.

“Of course,” she replied warmly. “Do you have a name you prefer to go by?”

Chains heaved a huge sigh, wondering why she was even about to say this.

“Black Lace,” she answered, sounding the words out. “My name is Black Lace.”

Rosy cracked a large grin, happy beyond belief.

“I am very glad to meet you, Lace, and I look forward to working with you.”

2. Sheets's Arc: Little Miss Foxface kinda-sortof-maybe makes a friend, meets the Princess and teases Mr. Messy-Mane

2. Sheets's Arc: Little Miss Foxface kinda-sortof-maybe makes a friend, meets the Princess and teases Mr. Messy-Mane

Chapter 2: Little Miss Foxface kinda-sortof-maybe makes a friend, meets the Princess and teases Mr. Messy-Mane

By: vren55

Winding Sheets arrived at Canterlot Castle’s Gates not long after dawn. She wasn’t sure what to wear for her introduction to her… ‘partner,’ but she did want to impress. To that end, Sheets had put on an extensively gold-embroidered cream dress with a low neckline and laced cuffs. The ensemble just covered her flank, but displayed and emphasized her slender legs and swan-like neck. For accessories, she had a bright-yellow hoofbag daintily draped around her neck.

As Sheets approached the gate, she noticed Scarlet waiting off to the side, standing under a pink parasol.

“Morning, Winding Sheets. You’re looking quite fine today,” said Scarlet, closing the parasol. The younger mare wasn’t nearly as well-attired as Sheets, but her maroon dress decorated with ruby-red ribbon ornaments fitted her figure perfectly.

“Thank you, Scarlet, and good morning to you. I’m sorry for the state I was in last night,” said Sheets, her tone apologetic, which served to hide her inner embarrassment.

“Don’t be. I’m not sure what happened, but you needed the company,” said Scarlet firmly. Sheets let a smile through her serene facade. The night before, Sheets had expected the worst from Stalwart and only derision from Scarlet. She had insulted them and belittled their offers. Yet, when she had basically returned to them humiliated, they wiped the wine out of her hair and still gave her the job. After that, her emotions had been in such a flux that Scarlet and Stalwart had ended up accompanying Sheets to her house before departing. Prior to that, Sheets hadn’t known it was possible for ponies to be so... kind.

“In that case, at least take this small token of thanks,” said Sheets, unlocking the clasp on her hoofbag.

“Sheets, I know this is customary, but I’m not a noblestallion or noblemare. You don’t need to give me anything,” insisted Scarlet.

Sheets sighed melodramatically. “I guess then I’ll have to find a new owner for this lovely set of oils and lotions.” Using her magic, Sheets dangled the muslin bag in front of Scarlet’s face. Imprinted on the bag was the logo of The Lotus Company, maker of some of the most famed body and bath products in Equestria. As expected, Scarlet’s jaw dropped. To Sheets surprise though, Scarlet seemed to fight a mental battle for one second before she sighed.

“Alright, you’ve got me. I accept your gift,” said Scarlet somewhat grudgingly, but she was obviously unable to suppress her glee. Yet, as Scarlet reached for the bag, Sheets danced it out of her reach.

“On one condition,” said Sheets slyly, causing Scarlet to raise an eyebrow. “You tell me everything you know about rehabilitating stallions.” Sheets knew that Scarlet would be quite willing to answer her questions. However, the gift would undoubtedly make the younger mare more comfortable with sharing her knowledge with Sheets and put her in a better mood. Besides, Sheets had several sets of the same lotions already. It helped that she had been acquainted with one of the major shareholders of the Lotus Company.

The surprise in Scarlet’s eyes caught Sheets off-guard. The tall unicorn initially wondered if she had miscalculated. However, Scarlet’s resulting giggle threw Sheets into further confusion.

“I accept, but let’s get walking first or else we’ll miss the meeting,” said Scarlet, taking the bag and stringing it over her neck. Sheets nodded and the two mares made their way into the castle.

“So exactly what do you want to know about rehabilitating stallions?” asked Scarlet as they walked through the castle lanes and toward the main keep.

“Mainly, I was wondering if there were any suggested guidelines and rules. I also want to know the expectations of my position,” said Sheets, her voice neutral. Her real reason for asking the question was to assess how much control and leeway she had within the program.

“Good question, but the answer… is simple, and, at the same time, quite complicated,” said Scarlet. At Sheets’s bewilderment, Scarlet chuckled. “The stallion and mare are partnered for three months. The expectations and goals of a stallion’s partner can be summarized by the three rules. One, you are expected to help your partner interact with ponies. Two, you are expected to teach him how to take care of himself. Three, you are to do your best to listen and comfort him in a non-sexual manner—”

“What!” exclaimed Sheets, making Scarlet jump slightly. But Scarlet met Sheets’s stunned gaze with a stern glare.

“Yes. Some of our veterans, like Stalwart, are married. Also, if we were going to encourage you to have sex with the veterans that’d make us no better than glorified pimps,” Scarlet deadpanned. Sheets frowned, but she could understand where Scarlet was coming from. If the program was truly meant to rehabilitate the stallions and mares, then ordering them to have sex with the stallions meant they would be resuming their role as prostitutes, but for a different master. Understandable and as reasonable as the rule was, Sheets internally cursed at the limitation, for it meant some of her most pleasurable tricks could not be used.

“That being said, we also have certain guidelines elaborating on these principles. For the third rule, while you cannot have sexual contact with the stallion, you are encouraged to have as much physical contact as possible,” said Scarlet.

Sheets’s eyes practically gleamed with interest. “Would you please clarify the definition of physical contact?”

“Most of our veterans are… jumpy. They need to be reaccustomed to gentle, physical contact with a mare, or anypony as a matter of fact. Holding hooves and touches on the shoulder fall within the obvious definition. However, nuzzling, hugs, caresses, and ‘romantic’ contact is encouraged if and when both parties agree to do so. That includes kisses,” explained Scarlet. Sheets nodded, her lips curling into a slight smile. In her heart though, she was grinning.

“To help your stallion reintegrate into society, you are expected to go with him to at least three outings a week. They can be social events or dates, but an attempt to take the stallion through social situations he might find himself in is encouraged. To facilitate the enactment of these goals, the pairs must live together. Either the stallion is asked to live with the mare in the rehabilitation houses provided by the program, or the mare is to live at the stallion’s house.”

A crafty thought occurred to Sheets as she glanced at Scarlet. “So a mare can technically sleep in the same bed as the stallion?” asked Sheets, smiling slyly.

Scarlet nodded, but didn’t comment on Sheets almost fox-like expression. “Yes. As long as no sexual contact occurs.”

“But you can’t expect everypony to follow that rule right?” said Sheets.

“Of course not. Accidents do occur after all. So we put a long-term contraceptive spell on each stallion that basically stops them from producing semen. We also place a chastity spell on the mare that blocks the entry of any object into their lower orifices,” said Scarlet, a knowing look on her face. At Scarlet’s raised eyebrow, Sheets allowed herself to pout a bit. It seemed that the rehabilitation program’s organizers were quite thorough about making sure that their system would not be abused. Good for them, but it wasn’t going to stop her from using… other methods.

“And Sheets, I think you’ll like this particular rule the most. Our final overriding rule is that the mare has all authority over the stallion, unless her commands break those aforementioned rules, or are detrimental to her, or her stallion’s physical and mental health,”said Scarlet.

Sheets’s ears noticeably straightened and her eyebrows rose slightly. Despite a heroic effort, a wide grin raised the corners of her delicate mouth. So her control was written in stone. Fascinating. She would be taking advantage of that particular decree to the fullest. Not to mention the other rules and goals she had to follow weren’t restrictive at all. Yes, she had to listen to the stallion, but she intended to do that anyway. Whether she chose to actually give her partner what he wanted was a different matter altogether. Admittedly, the contraceptive spell would be annoying, but she had a hundred different other methods she could use to ‘entertain’ her stallion partner. Perhaps this task was not going to be as difficult as she anticipated.

Nonetheless, there was one big question that nagged Sheets’s senses. Something that, when she combined all the rules and regulations of the program, revealed one big misgiving that Sheets could not ignore.

“Why do you allow so much freedom for the mares?” asked Sheets, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

“Most mares never had the ability to dictate their own lives. In a way, this is part of their rehabilitation. Also, each stallion is different and we want to give the mares the flexibility to adapt and help the stallions,” explained Scarlet calmly.

Sheets was still not assured by the rationale. It made sense, but Sheets couldn’t quite understand why she had been given that much leeway. “You’re not afraid the mares will abuse their position?”

“And why would they? They have nothing to gain and everything to lose if they do so. Besides, you find that despite this rule, the stallions can be quite uncooperative. So you don’t actually have that much control,” admitted Scarlet ruefully.

“Ah yes. The stubbornness of the male ego,” said Sheets twirling her hoof in an exaggerated fashion.

The former courtesan giggled at Sheets’s mocking tone. “They’re not that bad, Winding Sheets. Do you have any other questions?”

Sheets thought for a moment, then remembered the most important question she had. “Yes. What is the measure of success I’m expected to achieve by the end of the three months?” Of all the answers she needed, Sheets needed this one the most. She had to know how difficult it would be, and how much effort she needed to use in order to secure The Golden Ticket that was her final prize.

Scarlet frowned, her smile fading. “Well, in your case… It’d be a success if you manage to get your partner to act civilly by the end of the three months. As I stated earlier, he has been rather difficult.”

Sheets blinked, her brow slightly furrowed. For the mark of success to be so low worried Sheets more than it comforted her. It could mean that helping her partner would either be an easy task. But Scarlet’s frustrated expression strongly indicated that this was likely to be an incredibly difficult one. Exactly who was this stallion, and what were his problems that he even aggravated a skilled courtesan like Scarlet?

Sheets had no more time to consider the subject as she was broken out of it by Scarlet’s damning words.

“But before we meet your partner, we’re going to see Princess Celestia.”

Sheets froze so suddenly that Scarlet walked right past her. Luckily, Scarlet quickly noticed the wide-eyed alarm on Sheets’s face and turned to the unicorn, a concerned expression on her face.

“Uhhh, Sheets. You don’t have to be worried. She greets all the program’s new mares personally—”

Sheets grabbed Scarlet’s shoulders and half-whispered, half-screamed into the younger mare’s ear, “But she probably knows by now that I slept with Prince Blueblood! Her married nephew!”

Scarlet stared at Sheets in awe. “You did it with Prince Blueblood?” said Scarlet, barely able to suppress the volume of her voice.

Sheets coughed politely, regaining her composure. “We had an arrangement, but I… Well, the flankhole revealed it to everypony at the ball. It’s why I need the ticket. I’m out of favor with most of the higher nobility.” Sheets observed Scarlet nod in understanding. The younger mare was probably recalling the wine-sodden state Sheets had been in only last night and drawing her own conclusions.

“Wow… that sounds almost as bad as…” Scarlet blushed. “I never did mention how Celestia recruited me for the program, did I?” Sheets shook her head, her curiosity piqued by the embarrassment in Scarlet’s face.

“She had me followed and planned to talk to me. Only to find me in a very compromising position with Duke Charming,” said Scarlet sheepishly.

Sheets stared at Scarlet and felt a pang of pity for the mare. To have your sovereign find you in the middle of seducing one of the noblestallions on her Royal Judicial Council would have been a rather horrifying and terribly humiliating experience. “Oh… well that explains why Duke Charming was quietly dismissed from his position as Head Judge.”

“Yes, but it was worse than that. She discovered me when I was very much… in the middle of the moment and in a very stressed position.”

Sheets’s eyes widened at Scarlet’s furiously blushing face. After putting two and two together, her own cheeks began to redden. “Get out!”

Scarlet half-giggled. “Believe me, at that moment, every fibre of my body wished I could. But the point is Sheets, I don’t know her Highness that well. Yet, on that day, when she could have destroyed me a thousand different ways... She saved me instead.”

“I don’t need saving,” Sheets dismissed. Yet, the intense look in Scarlet’s eyes drew Sheets into meeting her gaze. Inexplicably, Sheets suddenly found she couldn’t break eye contact, so serious was the younger mare’s stare.

“But she’ll still give you the opportunity to change yourself for the better. So don’t worry about the fact you slept with Blueblood or the position you’ve found yourself in socially. That’s because, frankly, it’s not much worse than the state Her Highness found me in.”

“Scarlet, you were talented, wealthy, and one of the most sought-after mares in Canterlot. You weren’t in a bad state by any stretch of the imagination. As for me, I’m perfectly normal and I don’t need to change anything,” said Sheets, eyes narrowed and her tone unwavering. Even with Scarlet’s admission the night before, Sheets was actually offended that the younger mare now saw the lifestyle of a courtesan in such a repulsive light.

Scarlet shook her head, her eyes filled with sympathy, a keen sadness and self-loathing in her expression. “Sheets… there’s something wrong about ponies like us. It’s why we became so good at this occupation.”

Unperturbed by Scarlet’s sorrow, Sheets snickered, shaking her head in disapproval. “Face it, Scarlet, you couldn’t handle the pressure. Don’t pass your own failures to me.”

Scarlet’s eyes narrowed, indignation pushing her lips into a thin line. “Of course I couldn’t handle it! I was, for all intents and purposes, dead inside! I knew nothing but how to pleasure stallions and lived for nothing else!”

“But that’s exactly what we live for, young Scarlet. To pleasure stallions and take their gifts and favors as payment. What did Stalwart Hide give you to make you choose to be his daughter over all your admirers and clients?” asked Sheets in a mocking tone. Yet, there was a hint of curiosity to her voice that Sheets could not conceal. What could have possibly made Scarlet abandon her fame and fortune for such a mundane, dependent existence?

“He… gave me something I lost for a long time. Somepony I didn’t have to masquerade in front of. He gave me a father, and a family,” said Scarlet softly, almost as if the words were as precious as the most prized jewels in a dragon’s hoard.

Sheets almost facehoofed, but was struck with such incredulity by Scarlet’s answer that she laughed, an exaggerated, high-pitched, obviously faked laugh. Family? A father? Sheets never found anything so downright hilarious.

“And why was that so appealing to you? I mean, we both chose this line of work and willingly tore plenty of so-called families apart through our liaisons,” said Sheets, her voice barbed with unveiled scorn.

Scarlet seemed to pale at Sheets’s disdain and accusations. “Yes... but…”

Sheets sniggered. “Then you’re just the same as I am. We both decided to become prostitutes for the money, the favors, and the fame.”

“I am not the same as you!” snarled Scarlet. The mare’s hackles were raised and her hooves dug into the carpeted floor. Sheets looked Scarlet in the eye condescendingly, ignoring the anguish trapped in them. It was time to go in for the kill and make Scarlet learn that there was nothing different between being a courtesan and being a normal mare. Without all the excuses and moral niceties, it all came down to a matter of choice.

“Oh, Scarlet. Let’s face it. You made your own choices. I made mine. But just because you chose to stop being a courtesan for ‘family,’ doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with me or you. It’s just a simple choice. After all, we both chose to be courtesans for the money and fame.”

“SHUT UP! I NEVER WANTED TO BE A WHORE!”

Sheets stared at Scarlet, contempt banished, stunned at the utterly horrified look on the other mare’s face. Scarlet, tears pouring from her eyes, cringed, backed away from Sheets, and quickly spun around. The rage that once filled her had left. Her shoulders seemed to slump into the ground.

“... My father died in the war, and my mother fell ill with an incurable disease. With nopony to turn to, I became a courtesan… because I at least wanted to make her last months her best,” said Scarlet, her voice trembling.

Sheets’s mouth was agape as the younger mare broke into quiet sobs. Guilt, an emotion so uncommon to Sheets that it felt alien to her, made her extend a hoof to awkwardly clasp Scarlet in an embrace. To Sheets’s relief, Scarlet didn’t lash out and hit her as she was expecting.

After a moment of simply standing in place, Scarlet spoke. “I… never let her know what I was doing and she never suspected a thing. That was when the hiding began. She was the only pony who saw my true self, and not the act I put on for my clients. When I finally lost her, there was nopony left who knew whom I really was and I… lost myself in the routine, in my job.” Scarlet tried to wipe the tears from her eyes with her hoof, until Sheets offered her own kerchief, which the younger mare gratefully took.

“The other reason why we don’t have strict guidelines is that the effect of the stallion and the mare on each other is very unpredictable. Stalwart… I actually hated him at first. I was jealous that he as a father survived, whilst mine didn’t, and I was furious he went to war despite the fact he had a family to protect. I tried to hide it. I tried to help him with similar techniques I used with other stallions. They did help him to calm down and become more willing to talk to me. It was then that I gradually began to see his love for his family was the reason he went to war. It… helped me get over the hate for my own father and we grew closer. Yet, I couldn’t hide my own jealousy for what he had and the fact he represented exactly what I thought I had forever lost.”

Scarlet winced. “I should have known that he could see it too. One day he confronted me about it. I dithered, I tried to distract him, I actually hit him, but when I finally told him, he just listened… hugged me and offered to be my father. And now, I stand here, owing everything to him and to Her Highness’s program.” Scarlet sniffled one last time before she composed herself and returned Sheets’s kerchief. “Sorry for burdening you with all of that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Scarlet. It was my fault for pushing you. I am… so sorry for doing that,” said Sheets before she could stop the words from her mouth. Scarlet’s wide, if a bit teary smile brought a slight blush to Sheets’s cheeks. She wasn’t used to this… comforting ponies, or actually feeling sorry for what she had said. She wasn’t sure why she felt sorry in the first place, but Sheets knew that Scarlet didn’t deserve her scorn. Especially not after the mercy she had given her.

“Apology accepted,” said Scarlet, hiccuping slightly. She then checked a nearby clock. “I think we should get going.” Sheets nodded, glad to be forgiven so quickly. The two quickly trotted to the meeting place in silence.

Yet, Sheets couldn’t help but glance over at the younger mare beside her. She still didn’t understand what was so wrong about being a prostitute or a courtesan and why she had to be ‘rehabilitated.’ But she could not deny that, in a way, the program had helped, maybe even saved, Scarlet.

“Are you sure she won’t incinerate me?” Sheets joked, despite the fact she really meant the question. Her… conversation with Scarlet had quelled her fears, but now that they stood in front of the double doors to the sitting room where they would meet the Princess, Sheets couldn’t help but remember the incident between Lord Cuckold and Baroness Moecha. The pair had been married… just not to each other. Apparently, Celestia had found them buried in each other’s necks during the Grand Galloping Gala behind a column. There were many rumors as to what Celestia did, but, needless to say, the pair never really appeared at court these days. When they did, they seemed oddly attached to their respective spouses.

“Winding Sheets, you don’t have to worry,”said Scarlet. Not even revealing a hint of her anxiety, Sheets merely glanced at the younger mare and tossed her mane confidently.

“Whatever made you think I was worrying? Let’s meet Her Highness,” said Sheets, walking forward to press her hoof against the heavy oaken door. Elegantly, with nary a creak, Sheets entered the room, Scarlet following her close behind.

Princess Celestia of Equestria sat in front of the crackling fireplace on a set of perfectly arranged cushions. A stack of papers were beside her and her magic levitated another scroll, which she was reading carefully. The alicorn’s posture was so serene that Sheets found herself once again in admiration of the Princess. Many mares all around Equestria sought to imitate Celestia’s perfect poise and regal presence. Sheets often sought inspiration from the paragon set by her sovereign. Privately though, Sheets knew she paled in comparison to the being in front of her, and so found herself lowering her head and settling into a delicate curtsey.

“Who is it?” asked Celestia gently.

“Greetings, Your Highness. It is Winding Sheets, your humble servant,” said Sheets, averting her gaze while watching Celestia from under her long eyelashes.

“Ah. I was expecting you, Winding Sheets. Is Scarlet here with you?”

“Yes, Princess,” piped up Scarlet.

“Ah good. Why don’t you come both come and share a pot of tea with me?” suggested the Princess. Sheets rose quietly and walked until she faced her sovereign. Crossing her hooves, the unicorn sat herself daintily on the cushion set aside for her. From the steaming pot beside her, Celestia poured out two cups of tea for Scarlet and Sheets. Scarlet blew on her cup quickly, eager to sample the brew, while Sheets did so in a more sedate fashion. Every muscle in Sheets’s body was resisting the temptation to break into dance. She was having tea with the princess!

“Is the tea good?” asked Celestia.

“Excellent, Your Highness,” replied Sheets.

“But you haven’t even drank it yet,” said Celestia.

Sheets’s cup clacked slightly against her saucer as she realized her blunder. It was only then did Sheets notice the all-too-innocent, yet knowledgeable light in Princess Celestia’s gaze. They were eyes full of mischief, but they held a wisdom that would pierce any lie.

“Ah, but I am already enjoying the smell,” said Sheets, collecting herself.

“Indeed. So, Scarlet, are you feeling better?” asked Celestia, turning her attention to Scarlet. Scarlet put her cup down briefly, a frown on her face.

“Um… feeling better from what exactly, Princess?” asked Scarlet.

“You cried recently,” stated Celestia in a concerned, but somber tone. Sheets blinked and glanced at Scarlet, wondering how the Princess knew. It was then that Sheets noticed that Scarlet’s eyes were slightly red at their edges. Dread tightened Sheets’s jaws and her tea cup wobbled imperceptibly. Or was it imperceptible under Celestia’s all-seeing gaze?

“Oh! I’m much better now, thank you. I just recalled some bad memories,” said Scarlet. The slight tightness in Scarlet’s voice as she spoke shot another alien pang of guilt through Sheets’s heart.

“Oh dear. Is there anything we can do to help?” asked Celestia. Sheets blinked. She thought she noticed the Princess suddenly shoot her a dagger-like glare, but Celestia seemed to be more concerned with Scarlet. Or was she? Sheets swallowed a mouthful of her tea. No point thinking about it now.

“Its alright, Princess. I just need some time to…” Scarlet bit her lip and blinked rapidly. Sheets took her kerchief out again and gave it to Scarlet, who quickly dabbed at her eyes.

“Keep it,” said Sheets. She had a dozen of the same kerchief at home, and despite the difficult situation Sheets knew she was in, she could not fault the younger mare for being unable to keep her past experiences in check.

Scarlet nodded and accepted the patch of stitched cloth. “Thank you. I’ll leave you two alone now. Call me if you need anything.” As Scarlet passed Sheets, she whispered, “Don’t worry about it, Sheets.”

Sheets smiled and touched her hoof to the younger mare’s shoulder. “Thank you, Scarlet.” No matter what Celestia was going to say to her, Sheets felt… oddly grateful for Scarlet’s guidance and help.

As the doors closed, Sheets turned back to Celestia and sat herself back down in her spot. Sheets tried to drink her tea, but Celestia’s friendly smile was gone, replaced by a stony expression.

“Scarlet has mostly come to terms with her own mistakes. Were you the one who made her cry?” asked Celestia. There was no accusation in her question, just brute, plain certainty.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Sheets confessed. She forced herself not to tremble, to meet Celestia’s magenta eyes. But Sheets quavered as the cold gaze bore into her mind, her tail swishing in fear.

“You also slept with my nephew and more than half of the stallions of my court, most of them married,” stated Celestia.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Sheets, forcing herself to say the words without hesitation. She couldn’t lie. It would be a horrible idea to do so; she could see the discerning look in Celestia’s stare. Sheets had to tell the truth and hope for the best. Her logical mind didn’t expect Celestia was going to throw her out. She was asked to come here, after all. But the dread in Sheets’s heart shook her body and numbed her tongue.

“But judging from Scarlet's cordial behaviour to you, I'm guessing you did not mock Scarlet when she brought up her past?” asked Celestia, an almost curious expression on her face.

“No,” said Sheets firmly.

“Why?”

“I won’t mock someone already so broken,” said Sheets slowly.

“But that’s never stopped you before, Winding Sheets. What was so different about Scarlet Silk?” asked Celestia. It wasn’t a unkind question, but there was a driving force behind the Princess’s query that frightened Sheets.

“Well, I owe her for helping me after last night,” Sheets deflected. Yet, Celestia appeared unconvinced by Sheets’s answer.

“Ponies in your line of work break oaths and promises the moment they utter them. Especially those as… skilled as you are. Why would you care about Scarlet?” asked Celestia, raising her teacup to her lips once more.

“Because Scarlet…” Sheets froze and shut her mouth quickly. Why hadn’t she mocked Scarlet’s past? If it were any other mare, she would have continued to laugh, giggle, mock their weaknesses, and exploit their pain. If anything, Scarlet’s inability to enjoy the occupation she chose was a laughably useful weakness she could have used to drive the other mare to tears.

Yet, Sheets couldn’t bring herself to criticize Scarlet. She did not know why, but she felt great sympathy and respect for the younger mare who had abandoned her occupation for such a mundane life.

“Scarlet… Even when I hurt her, she didn’t retaliate. She continued to treat me kindly, although I have done nothing to deserve it,” said Sheets hesitantly, almost as if she doubted what she said. “I respect that and I can see that she’s… a strong mare in her own right.”

“Is it just respect you feel for Scarlet?”

Sheets paused in thought, then shook her head. “No… I do feel sorry for the situation that was forced on her.” Memories flashed through Sheets’s mind, ones that she did her best to forget. Despite her best efforts, she was unable to stop herself from grimacing. “I just don’t quite understand…” Sheets stopped and was about to banish the thought from her mind, but Celestia spoke first.

“Don’t understand what?”

Inhaling the sweet scent of her tea, Sheets put down her cup, but her mind was in such disarray that she didn’t notice that it clacked too hard against her saucer. “I don’t understand why is family is so important to Scarlet. Why did she choose to sacrifice her own freedom for her mother when it hurt herself that much? Then, when she finally gained notoriety and wealth, why did she throw that all away to be confined as somepony’s daughter of all things?” asked Sheets. After Scarlet’s revelation, Sheets was now thoroughly baffled. In her experience, the bonds of family were merely a convenient excuse to coerce ponies with.

There was a knowing smile on Celestia’s kind countenance as she refilled Sheets’s cup of tea. “Scarlet loved and wanted to be loved. She wanted to have friends and to be a friend. Family gave her both.”

“Love doesn’t exist and friendship doesn’t pay the bills,” said Sheets, a bit of a snort in her tone. After all, if love really did exist, why did married stallions throw themselves at her or on her at a flick of her tail? Why did brothers argue over whom she had glanced at? As for friendship, Sheets found it a luxury. In the Canterlot court, where allegiances could change in the blink of an eye, friendships were bought and maintained in hard golden bits or with… favors. Thus, friendships were pricey and Sheets always had thought them as too expensive.

Besides, if family was really supposed to provide love and friendship, then why… Sheets took in another sip of her tea, concentrating on the interplay of complex flavors to silence her recollections as well as her anger. They weren’t worth remembering.

“Well, I believe, Winding Sheets, that friendship is magic, and love heals all wounds It is on these tenets that this program has been built upon,” said Celestia, her voice brimming with confidence. Sheets disagreed but nodded in assent.

“Sheets, tell me how much you know about our program’s rules and goals, and what you think of them.”

“Scarlet told me about the four rules. They seem reasonable,” said Sheets, keeping her voice neutral.

“Ah. But you do not agree with them?” asked Celestia, chuckling in mock admonishment.

Not even questioning how the Princess had sensed her annoyance, Sheets sighed. “I’m not too fond of the contraception spell, but I can work with it.”

“I am quite sure you can, but I must reiterate several goals that you and your partner need to accomplish and the consequences if you abuse your position,” said Celestia, her smile fading and features growing stern. Sheets gulped and her back stiffened, ears straining to record Celestia’s orders.

“In order for you to receive your Golden Ticket, you must ensure that your partner is able to interact normally with other stallions and mares in most social conditions by the end of the three months. That is, we expect a noticeable sign of improvement in your partner’s behaviour, manner and self-esteem. Failure comes with no punishment and you will receive a small gift for your troubles in stead of the Golden Ticket.” Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “On the other hoof, should you dare to abuse your position by using your partner to further your own gains, or purposely hurt your partner in any emotional or physical manner, know this.”

The room’s temperature dropped for several degrees and Sheets shook as Celestia’s words struck her like hammer blows on an anvil.

“Your ‘social status’ will be the last thing you will have to worry about. Is that understood, Lady Winding Sheets?”

Then as suddenly as it had come, the creeping cold subsided. Celestia was smiling again and Sheets was wondering whether it had been all a dream. The slight tremble of her lips, her only reminder of the terrifying fear she had been gripped in.

“I understand, Your Highness,” said Sheets quietly, trying her best not to whimper.

Celestia nodded. “Good. One last thing, Winding Sheets.”

Sheets gulped. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

Celestia leaned forward, and placed a hoof on Sheets shock-frozen shoulder. “Open your heart, and learn the beauty of trust. Most ponies are not as bad as you think they might be.”

Sheets almost chuckled at Celestia’s words. However, the gentle touch of Celestia’s hoof on her shoulder and the weight to the princess’s words stilled her barbed tongue. So, she sat quietly as Celestia returned to her seat, set her cup down on its saucer and, with a burst of her magic, extinguished the fireplace.

“It’s time to introduce you to the stallion you’ll be paired with. I think he’ll be rather pleased to meet you.”

Sheets nodded. She was about to rise from her seat when Celestia raised a hoof to stop her. “But first, I need to place the chastity spell on you.”

Sheets hid her groan. She was hoping they would forget that.

Outside of the lounge, Sheets and Celestia were rejoined by a cheery looking Scarlet. The group made their way through the castle corridors towards the barracks of the castle. Throughout their journey, Sheets’s curiosity for her to-be stallion partner only increased. She had heard snippets of whom he was from Scarlet, but that was it.

“Scarlet, how much can you tell me about the stallion I will be paired with?” asked Sheets quietly.

Scarlet grinned. “I’m afraid I’ve already told you all I can. We prefer the stallions and mares to introduce themselves to each other. It’s better that way, especially since you…” Scarlet frowned. “Well, you might want to be careful in how you breach the topic of what you actually do.”

“Hmm. How much does he know about me?” asked Sheets, her crafty smile returning to her lips.

“Only that he’s being paired with a pony in our line of work, but that’s it. We don’t want to intrude on the mare’s or stallion’s privacy. But I do encourage you to be as open as possible,” said Scarlet.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. We shall have to see,” replied Sheets casually, an almost predatory grin on her muzzle. Scarlet sighed in slight exasperation, but didn’t comment any further, as they had arrived.

“I must leave. I have royal duties to attend to, but it was a pleasure to finally talk to you, Winding Sheets,” said Celestia, facing her.

To Sheets’s surprise, she could hear the sincerity in Celestia’s compliment. “It is an honor to serve you, Your Highness.” Sheets curtseyed politely, her eyes glued on the alicorn’s almost motherly smile. After a nod to Scarlet, Celestia then left, gracefully walking out of sight.

“Ready to meet your partner, Winding Sheets?” asked Scarlet. She gestured to the thick, heavy oaken doors that were probably the entrance to some office. Sheets wasn’t entirely sure as to where they were going as she rarely explored this part of the castle. Still, she raised her head and balanced herself on her hooves.

“Of course,” said Sheets, certainty in her voice.

Scarlet knocked on the door. A faint ‘come in’ could be heard on the other side. Scarlet entered first into the room, Sheets close behind.

The room was a small office, apparently Stalwart Pike’s. The pegasus was sitting behind a worn mahogany desk adorned with various maps and reports. Behind Stalwart was a rack of ornamental spears, but the room had a generally spartan appearance.

Sheets took this all with nary a thought. Her main focus was on the back of the stallion reclined languorously in the wooden chair across from Stalwart. That stallion had to be her partner, but Sheets’s eyes narrowed as she examined him.

He was a unicorn, but Sheets could barely pick that out from his mane, the first thing she noticed about the stallion. The color of the mane was a rich, dark, chocolate brown, an appealing color. However, the pleasing color could do nothing to offset the jungle that was the stallion’s hair. The mane was an overgrown rats nest of twisted fibres that wove together in and out and between each other in completely irregular fashion. It was the reason Sheets had difficulty recognizing the stallion as a unicorn; his horn was almost hidden in the tangle.

In fact, the stallion was just horribly groomed all around. His tail fared slightly better than his mane, but not much. It was frayed at the ends and tangled beyond measure. His cream colored coat had seen better days. His fur was ruffled the wrong way in so many places. His hooves, placed on the arms of his chair, were unpolished and coated with ink and mud. To top it off, an odd, bitter, almost smoky smell emanated from the stallion.

Sheets cringed. How could she expected to have any physical contact with that heap of dirt in front of her? It was almost as if the stallion had just gave up trying to keep himself clean, so defeated and grungy was the figure in the chair.

“Hello Scarlet,” Stalwart greeted.

“Morning, father. Is he being grouchy today?” asked Scarlet cheekily.

“You do know that I am sitting right here,” said the unknown stallion. Sheets’s brow furrowed a bit. Curious. Under the heavy dose of sarcasm in the stallion’s reply was a cultured tone. It was rusty, but the stallion’s proper way of speaking marked him as a well-educated noble who had actually learnt something from his tutoring. That did not match his current appearance at all.

“I know. Now turn around. It’s time to meet your new partner,” said Scarlet playfully. The stallion groaned. Sheets sensed he had just rolled his eyes in exasperation. He didn’t even bother to even try to twist his head to peek at her, something that rather annoyed Sheets.

Roll your eyes at me? Let’s see if I can change your mind… thought Sheets. Quickly drawing her favorite fan from her purse, Sheets raised it with her magic to her lips, just hiding her smile. Turning herself sideways a bit, she raised her rear-left leg to flash the slightest bit of her flank from under her dress, as well as her front-right leg. With these simple adjustments, Sheets posed herself in the most beguiling and vexatious manner possible.

She had just finished positioning herself as the stallion finally began to turn around.

“I’ve already told you I’m not interest—” The stallion’s voice trailed off into silence. Under her half-lidded eyes, Sheets glimpsed the dropped jaw and wide eyes of her… partner. Now that she could see his face, Sheets was pleasantly surprised. While an untamed moustache poured over his upper lip, the stallion’s metal-grey eyes were quite beautiful, if currently dumbstruck and somewhat sunken in. His face was not unlike the perfectly chiseled statues of famous ponies that adorned the statue garden at the castle, although it was spoiled by deep eyebags.

For a while, the stallion just gawked, until a stupid-looking, extremely smug grin made its way to his face.

“Well, hello there, Little Miss Foxface.”

Surprise turned into shock, then transformed into indignation. Before Sheets could slap the stallion with her fan, she blinked. Little Miss Foxface? The name was surprisingly apt. She could actually see the funny side to it.

However, two could play that game. Tittering mischievously, Winding Sheets strutted over to her partner.

“You are too kind, Mr. Messy-Mane,” rasped Winding Sheets, smiling coyly from behind the half-barrier that was her fan.

The stallion was caught off-guard by her riposte, but, instead of being even slightly irritated, he swooned. “Oh, you wound me. Please… Only your kiss can heal my terrible injuries.”

Sheets raised an eyebrow and smiled. Slowly, she languorously arched her neck over the stallion’s forehead and puckered her lips. Of course, she had no intention of actually kissing the stallion, but he didn’t know that. As her lips drew closer and closer to the now widely-grinning unicorn, Sheets noticed from the corner of her eye that the stallion’s hooves were getting twitchy.

So she was completely expecting it when the stallion raised his chin to try to kiss her on the lips. Her fan moving like lightning, Sheets snapped it shut and tapped the stallion’s mouth, pushing him back onto his seat.

“Down, boy. You are like a farm colt wanting to roll in the hay,” whispered Sheets, winking for effect.

“I am really a handsome, sexy, unicorn lord, who is great with spells of all kinds,” said the stallion, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh? You still look like a Mr. Messy Mane to me,” said Sheets with a nonchalant shrug.

The stallion’s eyes narrowed a bit. “This Mr. Messy Mane is one of the sons of House De Rose.”

The statement would normally raise Sheets’s eyebrows, but she was too much in her element to be distracted. Although, she was severely tempted to widen her grin. House De Rose was one of the oldest and most powerful noble families in Canterlot. They tended to stay out of the political arena, but when they entered, it was like releasing a lion into a pit of hounds. It helped that they could claim lineage to Princess Platinum herself and served as one of Princess Celestia’s vassals.

“Oh? Interesting. Which son are you, Mr. Messy Mane?” asked Sheets flirtatiously.

“The youngest one. Lord Barding, at your service, Little Miss Foxface,” said Barding. He attempted to be roguish by winking, but the way his eyelid pulled at his tired features only spoilt the effort.

“Well. I am going to have an interesting time with you, Lord Barding,” rasped Sheets. As she spoke, she leaned in just a bit closer, her tongue wetting her lips.

“I am pretty sure it will be,” Scarlet said quickly, a bit of a flush to her cheeks. Sensing that now was not the right time to exploit her advantage, Sheets gracefully separated herself from the enthralled Barding and turned back to Scarlet.

“Well then, Scarlet, I guess we’ll be off. Am I right to assume that I will be staying at Lord Barding’s apartments?” asked Sheets. Barding seemed to grin almost hungrily at the question, while Scarlet raised her hoof to her chin in contemplation and nodded.

“You both have been spelled and you both know the rules. Just remember to go for three outings a week and to report to this office every fortnight,” said Scarlet, her tone serious.

“Excellent. In that case, Lord Barding, let us be off. I need to do some packing,” said Sheets.

Barding nodded eagerly. “Of course, Little Miss Fox— I mean…” Barding blinked and coughed. He gazed at Sheets, bewilderment briefly spreading across his face. Stretching his chapped lips into a smile, Barding met Sheets’s eyes. “I do not believe I ever caught your name, miss.”

Sheets giggled at Barding’s questioning look before she closed and pocketed her fan. Opening the door with her magic, Sheets shot a sultry glance over her shoulder.

“You’re right. You never did catch my name, Mr. Messy Mane.” With that, Sheets sashayed out of the office, her tail swinging behind her.

A second passed before Barding suddenly found his sea-legs and tore out of the office without even a backward glance to the stunned Scarlet and Stalwart. After a moment, father and daughter turned to each other, the same bemused expressions on their faces.

“Well… At least he seems interested in her,” said Stalwart.

Scarlet nodded. “Now all we can do is hope… For the two of them.”

Author's Note

Sorry for the long time it took to update. Comet has a lot of stories he needs to cover and I frankly was besieged by a summer internship. Hope this was worth the wait though!

2. Chains's Arc: Little Miss Whiplash makes an acquaintance, meets the Princess and harasses Mr. Prim and Proper

Chapter 2: Little Miss Whiplash makes an acquaintance, meets the Princess and harasses Mr. Prim and Proper

By Comet Burst

Lace groaned as she rolled over to a hoof prodding at her side. The comforting embrace of the soft bed begged her not to go, despite knowing what was planned for her today. Foggy thoughts began to form as she opened her sore and tired eyes, glancing about at the blobs of color.

“Five more minutes,” she whined, causing a snort to come from the pony waking her.

“Get up,” came a stern voice from behind.

Lace could barely crack her eyes open as the hoof prodded harder into her side, making her yelp. Her bleary sight registered nothing but a mass of gray and green, which after a couple blinks formed into the moldy stone wall she remembered from yesterday. Craning her neck, she blew away a few loose strands of her rich black mane to see a Royal Guard towering above her, scowling at her as if she was a repulsive dish of food. Groaning loudly, Lace flopped her head back onto the cot she was laying on and sighed deeply.

“Give me a few minutes to look pretty before we start,” she groaned back before peeking up at the guard again. “I like to look nice when I play rough with a strong stallion like you.”

“Shut up and get on your hooves,” he snapped back. “Your release papers stated for you to be released this morning, so get up.”

Lace lifted an eyebrow at that. “Release papers?” she asked.

“Yes, you are now in the custody of Her Majesty, Princess Celestia, herself. Get up before I leave you here and tear up the document.”

“Well somepony’s in a grumpy mood,” Lace noted, rising to her hooves from the scratchy cot. She tilted her head at him as if studying his face. “You could really smile more. It’ll do wonders for your anger.”

The stallion’s face hardened before he turned around, beelining for the cell door. Lace followed slowly, her eyes glancing in both directions. There were no other guards here, a strange thing considering she was a known criminal. The guard evidently didn’t consider her a threat, which she found a bit demeaning. Once she had passed the door to the cell, she followed him while the door creaked shut behind them, clicking as it locked. A shudder ran down her spine as the metal ground against the stone.

The duo was mostly silent as they proceeded up the cold stone steps, Lace following like a good little filly. Their hooves hitting the stones filled almost all the silence, much to her relief. Complete silence was something she never liked as it usually meant something bad was about to happen. There were a few creaky doors that they passed through, adding to the welcoming ambience of the prison. Eventually, they came through a nicer looking door that Lace noted was the one she had come through a day earlier. At least freedom was assured past this point.

It was amazing how fast getting out of prison soured for Lace as she saw Rosy Lips standing on the other side of the door, smiling widely. A familiar green stallion stood by her again, wearing a full set of Guard armor this time. He didn’t look nearly as happy as Rosy did, his eyes narrowed into a cold glare and a tough frown on his face. Beside him stood two more guards, each staring with similar hard glares and blank muzzles.

“Lace! We’ve been waiting for you!” Rosy called brightly, contrasting from the stern feel of the room.

Lace winced a bit as she trotted over to Rosy, wishing she didn’t have to. She had never been much of a girly filly even when she was young, so it went without saying she never liked the bright and bubbly demeanors that other mares had. It always annoyed her that they acted like best friends in this business, especially since they bickered almost as fiercely as mating dragons when they got into disagreements. Still, she had to be friendly to Rosy since she was the reason she still wasn’t awaiting a trial in a musty cell.

“Hi,” Lace stated tonelessly, an empty look on her face. Rosy continued to grin, but it slowly began to break under Lace’s expressionless stare.

“So, you, er, ready to go?” she asked.

“Yes,” Lace replied in the same toneless manner.

Rosy could only smile awkwardly and rub a hoof on the back of her head. “I kinda expected you to be a little more happy about getting out of prison.”

“I am. Can’t you tell?” said Lace, a single eyebrow raised.

“Well, no. Not really,” said Rosy.

“Then I’m sorry I’m not jumping up and down about it in the presence of the Royal Guard while I’m still in their prison,” deadpanned Lace.

“Yeah… I guess I didn’t think about that.”

They got quiet after that, Rosy staring at the stone floor while Lace blinked, betraying no emotions. Just before Lace spoke up, however, Emerald cut in and cleared his throat.

“I think it’s time for us to be leaving. Don’t you think so?” he asked in a gruff tone.

Rosy’s head popped up. “Oh dear me! I’m so sorry for holding us up, Emerald. Yes, we should be going!”

Emerald merely smiled at his wife’s absent-mindedness. “Corporal,” he said before turning to the guards next to him. “If you please.”

Lace stared at Rosy and the stallion as they approached her, wondering what that cue meant. She noted the guards nod their heads sharply and a colored auras started to form on the tips of their horns, something Lace hadn’t noticed before. The auras got brighter until a small ‘pop’ rang in Lace’s ears and a blinding white light filled her vision, replaced just as quickly by a large and spacious room of marble pillars, purple walls, red curtains and checkered floors.

Lace blinked before the realization set in that she had just arrived in what looked like the inside of a castle. She opened her mouth to confirm this, but a much more elegant voice spoke up from behind them.

“I expected you to be here earlier, Rosy,” came the unmistakable voice of the current monarch of Equestria. Rosy let out a small squeal of terror as Lace felt a wave of ice water crash onto her back. Gulping hard, she locked herself into a rigid stance while Rosy practically threw herself onto the floor next to her.

“My Princess! I’m so sorry! We were on our way over and—” she shrieked before a soft chuckle broke her train of thought.

“My dear Rosy, I am not upset. I understand there are delays,” the Princess spoke again, an unusual calm lacing the soft words. Rosy peeked up from the floor, concern written on her face before her voice picked back up. “And I presume this is the legendary mare you spoke of?”

Rosy cast a nervous glance over to Lace before nodding furiously to the royalty behind her.

“Please turn around, my honored guest,” she asked, her voice ringing in Lace’s ears with the unnervingly calm tone. “I have heard much about you and I want to know if they are all true.”

Gulping once again, Lace composed herself and spun slowly to face the glowing white alicorn that sat on a raised dais, her tri-colored mane flowing as if it was water. Her large magenta eyes rested upon her as if they were relieved to see her at last. A small smile played upon her lips as a scroll floated towards her face.

“I am terribly sorry, my little ponies, but I decided to catch up on some official matters whilst I waited for you. If you would please wait outside until I resolve this, I will set aside all further matters until we have discussed our business,” she stated, focusing on the scroll.

Involuntarily, Lace let out a small snort of derision as a small twinge of anger stung her mind. Almost immediately, she stiffened up and her eyes widened as she regarded the Princess, hoping that she hadn’t noticed. Unfortunately for her, Princess Celestia’s eyes returned their focus onto Lace and a tense silence grew between them. Rosy scrambled back to her hooves to stop any further damage, but Celestia had already started speaking.

“Is there something you wish to say, Ms. Chains?” she spoke smoothly, as if nothing was wrong.

Lace’s eyes shrunk to the size of pinpricks as she shook her head, trying to conceal the terror building in her chest. The Princess, though, seemed to ignore her response and continued. “Are you sure, Ms. Chains? You are my honored guest today, so please speak up if you wish to say something to me.”

Lace broke out of her clammed up state and swallowed hard. She struggled to keep her silence, but when the scroll moved away from Celestia’s face, she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness!”

Celestia tilted her head a bit, but the same small smile returned to her face. “But?” she asked.

“Well, er,” Lace began, scrabbling to find the right words to keep herself out of prison. “I just, uh, wanted to thank you for this, uh, this wonderful chance to… be of use to the, uh, Royal Guard.”

Princess Celestia’s smile widened a bit, as if she found Lace’s fumbling amusing. “I am glad you agreed to help in return, Ms. Chains. I do wish to speak to you further about the services I am employing you for, but as you can see, I have already started to resolve this. I presume you have not had breakfast, so please go and have something to eat. This will take some time and the dining staff will make whatever you wish.”

Without another glance, Celestia brought the scroll back to her face and Lace let out a stifled breath, relieved she had not burst into flames for her reaction. She bowed low, her mane touching the polished floors and mumbled. “As you wish, my liege,” she said loud enough for the Princess to hear.

Rising back up and spinning, Lace swiftly marched towards the gigantic golden doors, ignoring Rosy as she lifted herself back into a standing position. Bent on getting out of there before Princess Celestia changed her mind, she barely comprehended Rosy speaking as she trotted, her crazy-looking eyes trying to push the doors open before she got there. Her raven mane flopped around wildly as her steady trot became a run. At each side of the doors, two unicorn Royal Guards cast suspicious glances at her while they magically pried them open.

“Chains, wait!” Rosy called from somewhere behind her.

Lace wasn’t sure why she was in such a hurry to get away from the Princess, but an unfamiliar panic welled up in her chest and she rounded the corner, heading down the opulent hallway despite having no idea where she was going. After turning three more corners, Lace finally slowed her gait to a slow walk before stopping entirely, sucking down air as if she had been strangled. She heard her heart racing and the blood ran warm in her veins, something she had not felt in a long time. In fact, she hadn’t felt that since…

“Lace!” Rosy shouted, rounding the corner behind her. “What the buck has gotten into you?”

Lace closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, trying to give the appearance of calmness. When she opened her eyes, Rosy stood in front of her, the green of her eyes filled with anger. She reached out a hoof and placed it on Lace’s chest, preventing her from walking away.

“I told you your release was conditional on your behavior!” she hissed in her best angry whisper. “Getting snippy with the Princess is not what we agreed on!”

Lace lowered her head, wishing hard that Rosy wasn’t here right now, but her throat constricted and allowed no noise to escape. Without any sort of rebuttal, she knew Rosy would press on with her outrage.

“Do you have any idea how that makes you look to her? I spent days trying to convince the Princess you were the perfect pony for this! Days! I almost lost any chance of having you approved for this when she received the report on what you did to that stallion back at your brothel! She was worried you were too extreme for this program and now you want to prove her correct by scoffing at her?”

She let out an uncharacteristically loud groan and facehoofed, clenching her teeth as Lace raised an eyebrow. Rosy obviously mistook how much control she had over her and seemed to forget their agreement that she could do this job however she wanted, no outside interference. A pit gnawed at her stomach and, while she tried to stifle it, deepened as her own anger boiled over.

“I’m sorry, Rosy. There was something in my nose and I couldn’t stop my reaction,” she said.

“Don’t you dare lie to me!” she hissed. “I’m not the idiot you take me for, Lace. I spent years forced to read other ponies for those bastard griffons I was prisoner under. I can tell when somepony lies to my face!”

Lace tried to put on a reassuring smile, but her lips curled into a sadistic sneer. In the back of her mind, she was beginning to enjoy seeing Rosy like this. Seeing the older, prissier and girlier mare get flustered made her smile wider in anticipation. “What makes you so sure I’m lying?” she asked. “You’ve only known me for a day, so how can you tell? I’m dying to know.”

Rosy bared her teeth before answering, the furious expression looking alien on her soft features. “Everything you’re doing tells me you’re lying! That ugly excuse for a smile you have, the way your eyes stop looking all panicked; I can tell from a mile away!”

Lace dropped her smile, the anger and twisted pleasure of seeing Rosy get mad mixing into the unidentifiable emotion she loved the sensation of. She leaned in closer to Rosy while trying to make herself taller, but it was a bit difficult since Rosy had the height advantage here.

“And what makes you think you know me? Because you got me to say something in that wretched cell? Ha! You know nothing of me! Nothing! I am not your property, your concern or even your charge! I am here to do a job for Princess Celestia and then return to my den in that brothel.”

“You’re here because of my word that I was going to help you!” Rosy fired back, standing a little taller. “The only reason, the SOLE one, that you got out of that cell was because I thought there was a nice mare in there who wanted something more than the life she was dealt! I put my own reputation on the line for an ungrateful tart like you because I felt you could be happy if you weren’t paid for company! Princess Celestia wanted nothing to do with you when she heard about what you had done!”

As Lace began to formulate her retort, she noticed a gleam near the edges of Rosy’s eyes. She wasn’t sure, but was Rosy about to cry? Even if she was, there was no way Lace was about to let her win.

“Oh yeah? Did Princess Celestia want anything to do with you? Did she want anything to do with any of us before the psychotic veterans returned home? NO! She let all of us fall into this Tartarus-blasted way of life because she was more concerned with her own reputation! She allowed us to be made into prostitutes because we were supposed to replace the dying troops with fresh ones! What else did she want us to be? Nurses? Farmers? NO!”

A sharp crack echoed through the stone walls as Lace’s head whipped to the left, a stinging sensation erupting her cheek. She spun back to see a teary-eyed Rosy pull her hoof to her mouth, attempting to hide her quivering bottom lip.

“D-don’t you e-ever say that again! Princess Celestia s-specifically chose me f-for Emerald! She told m-me that I h-held the key to saving him f-from himself!”

Lace could barely conceal her shock as he prodded her cheek gingerly. Her eyes were wide and pupils small while her jaw hung slack. Did Rosy just strike her? Like she was a filly who mouthed off to her mother? She never got the chance to retaliate, though, as Rosy pressed on, tears streaming down her cheeks, her breath coming out in heaving gasps.

“I d-did what I did because I didn’t h-have a choice! I was b-beaten and tortured b-by my captors a-and forced to d-do th… th-things for them! Just because you’re upset w-with the Princess gives y-you no right to l-look down on me or her like that!”

Rosy could barely see Lace through her blurry vision, but even she could see a fire light in her eyes that personified the term ‘madness’. Lace threw her volumus black mane back and glared back with a look that could make a cockatrice shiver.

“Oh, you think you’re so tortured, don’t you? You think that because you were mistreated as a prisoner, you deserve my respect? I couldn’t give two bucks about you being captured or abused! Just because you had bad experiences doesn’t mean I haven’t had mine!” Lace spoke, her voice rising to dangerous eavesdropping levels.

“Sh-shut up! You don’t know what I’ve been through!” Rosy spluttered, making Lace glare more.

“No, you shut up for once! I spent years as a failed prostitute only to be thrashed to within inches of my life by other ponies! I was gagged and abused for days in order to satisfy their twisted pleasures, only to be beaten again when I fought back! I’ve had every rib, at least one bone in every leg and my skull cracked so they could teach me the meaning of ‘pleasure in pain’ while you slept around with a neurotic Royal Guard!”

Rosy remained silent at that while Lace sucked in a couple breaths, doing her best impersonation of an angry dragon. Snorting once, Lace forced herself past and stomped off, leaving a stunned looking Rosy to watch her.

The mess hall was abnormally spacious, wider than the brothel twice over and silent enough to make Lace uncomfortable. Begrudgingly, she bit into a piece of dry toast, satisfied with the crunching it made while she scowled in both directions, drawing equally bitter looks from the guards who approached the servers. ‘This will never work,’ she thought. ‘Look at all of them, ungrateful dogs of war who think everything is owed to them. And I have to rehabilitate one of the worst. Just great.’

As if to worsen her mood more, a new tray set itself on the table, followed by Rosy sitting down next to her. While she scooted up, Lace took another bite of the toast, ripping away a chunk like a rabid wolf.

“Lace, er, Chains,” Rosy said in a calm voice as Lace shot her a venomous look. “I’m sorry for talking to you like that.”

“Why?” Lace asked, pointing her gaze at the stonework on the far side of the room. “It’s not like you cared anyway.”

Lace heard the bench creak from Rosy shifting to face her. “Lace, I know what I said was out of place and I feel terrible about thinking I could scold you like that. Will you please forgive me?”

A tense silence rose between them as Rosy watched Lace with a sad look while Lace took another angry bite of her toast. As she chewed, Lace let out a sigh, spraying crumbs onto the table.

“Fine,” she huffed, a scowl on her face as she prepared to bite the toast. “Just don’t bring it up anymore and stop looking at me like you lost your dog.”

A smile emerged on Rosy’s face as she turned to her tray. On it was an assortment of fruit slices, ranging from apples to oranges. She picked up a green slice of apple and munched on it while Lace took another ravenous bite of toast.

“Now that all of that is behind us, are you ready to meet your charge? I hear he’s quite the hoof-full,” she asked, glancing over at Lace.

“I guess. What do I have to do with him?” Lace asked in return.

“Oh, you know. Not only do you have to live with him, you also need to help him feel more normal in a social setting, like going out for a night with him and taking him shopping,” Rosy said in a cheery tone, popping the rest of the apple slice into her mouth.

“And you think I can do all of that normally?” Lace remarked with a roll of her eyes.

“I think you can at least fake being normal like I did,” Rosy said. “Or, at the very minimum, smile and apologise in a sincere way.”

Lace turned to Rosy, one of her cheeks bulging with chewed toast.

“Again, what makes you think I can do any of that?” she asked, spraying some crumbs onto her plate.

Rosy looked over at Lace and smiled brightly. “Because I see a lot of me in you. I was a lot like you once, a prostitute angry at the world with nowhere to voice it. Most of the time, I could make it appear as if I was a member of society, but I always knew I would screw up somewhere. When I did, all I could do was cry and beg for forgiveness. Emerald changed all of that, though.”

Lace frowned and swallowed another bite of her toast before asking, “What did he do?”

Rosy chuckled before biting another apple slice. “He held me and told me everything was going to be alright. The way he spoke and his strong hooves made me believe him, even when I was having one of my nightmares. It was no wonder I fell in love with him.”

“Blegh,” Lace cut in. “This colt better not touch me if he doesn’t want his leg broken.”

“I know it sounds strange, but there is a flipside to this program, Lace. It’s not just for soldiers, it’s for mares like us as well. Princess Celestia established this program to save all of Equestria, both the soldiers and the prostitutes,” Rosy said.

“Oh give me a break,” Lace replied. “Next you’ll tell me it’s soon going to expand to all mares in the brothels across Canterlot.”

“Actually, it already has,” Rosy pointed out. “When it became apparent me and Emerald were a success, Princess Celestia gave the order to expand the initiative. Your charge had already failed the rehabilitation several times when we decided to give you a try.”

“Makes it sound more like desperation than saving me or him.”

“I won’t lie to you and say that it wasn’t a part of it, but when I met with him, I just knew we needed a mare like you,” said Rosy, her smile’s confidence not even wavering at Lace’s sarcastic tone.

“So, what’s his name, anyway? You talk about him like he’s this wounded soldier who came back from the frontlines,” Lace quipped.

“You’re not too far off,” a voice spoke from behind them. Both mares jumped before turning to see Princess Celestia smiling down at them. “His name is Golden Lance, one of the best soldiers we ever had in the army. If you’ve eaten, I think it’s time you met him.”

Lace looked over to Rosy, who nodded at her with a smile, before she rose to her hooves, averting her eyes from the Princess.

“As you wish, my liege,” she said, bowing low and trying not to wince at how uncomfortable and humiliating the gesture was.

“There’s no need for that, Ms. Chains, but I do appreciate the gesture,” Celestia said with a smile. “If you’ll come with me…”

Before she could take a single step, Lace’s vision filled with white as a popping sound filled her ears. As soon as it happened, though, it faded away to reveal a wonderfully decorated room of gold, marble and red curtains. Sunlight poured through the windows, reflecting off every surface imaginable.

“Continuing on what I was saying,” Princess Celestia pressed on, commanding Lace’s full attention. “Golden Lance is one of the best soldiers the Royal Guard had. He is one of the few surviving members of Spearhead Corps, the group that made most of the first contact in any engagement. His group is one of the most well-respected in all the Royal Guard, but unfortunately, Golden Lance himself is not.”

Celestia trotted over to a small table, lifting a file stuffed to the brim with papers. She opened it with her magic and a single sheet flew out, positioning itself in front of her. “He was nearly discharged from the Spearhead Corps after getting into a drunken brawl with members of the Wonderbolts Aerial Wing unit, where he has since been charged multiple times with disorderly conduct and reckless behavior, as well as regularly getting so drunk that the effects do not wear off until the afternoon of the next day.”

Closing the file, Celestia turned around to see Lace gulp hard. She let out a sigh as she trotted back to her, a sad look in her eyes. “Corporal Lance has already gone through the program multiple times and failed every attempt. All of his former consorts have given up out of fear since, when he is drunk enough, he has horrific hallucinations of the battles he’s fought, often attacking his consort during one of these episodes. Depriving him of alcohol only makes it worse as he dreams about them when sober, thus putting the consort’s life in danger as he is unaware of his actions. I cannot promise safety while you live with him, as outside interference is strictly against the program, but I can have you removed as his consort should he become violent. Do you still wish to go through with this?”

Lace shivered as Princess Celestia watched her, waiting for an answer. She was supposed to be set up with a stallion who was known for attacking his partner in either drunken or sleepwalking states? From the way the Princess made it sound, any sane mare would outright reject the offer.

It was then that a small smile crept onto Lace’s muzzle as she remembered she was not considered sane by normal pony standards.

“Yes, my Princess,” she spoke.

A bright smile lit up Celestia’s face while she closed her eyes, lowering her head a bit. “Oh good, I thank you for doing this. I felt it prudent for you to know the risks before we got any further. Despite the problems Golden Lance has, I have been informed he is quite the gentlepony when sober and awake. I shall have him be fetched immediately.”

Her horn glowing, Celestia opened a door that blended into the room, revealing two Royal Guards behind it. “Summon Captain Steelheart and Corporal Lance, if you please,” she commanded. They crisply saluted and disappeared down the hallway.

“Now, as for your role, I believe Mrs. Fire has informed you of what you are to do and what is expected of you, correct?” Princess Celestia asked.

Lace nodded before replying, “Yes, your majesty. I am to aid in Golden Lance’s recovery and integration into normal society through whatever means I deem prudent.”

“Did she also tell you there is to be no sexual contact or acts performed while the two of you live together?”

Lace remained silent at that, her eyes shrinking. Princess Celestia chuckled at that before walking to a window. “Due to the nature of the project, we sometimes take married stallions and pair them up with former prostitutes, something that makes their wives incredibly uncomfortable. As such, measures are set in place that prevent any and all sexual contact while the two of you are together, both inside and outside the residence you are provided.”

“What kind of measures, your highness?” Lace asked, her mouth dry.

“Simple warding spells that are kept in place until the project has run its course. They prevent any and all physical contact by the opposite gender to maintain chastity. This not only stops any prostitute from seducing the Guard she is assigned to, it also prevents any Guard from forcefully taking advantage of a consort.” Celestia stated.

“But Rosy said Emerald was able to hug her.”

“Simple, nonsexual acts are allowed and encouraged. Holding hooves, hugging and even kissing is allowed, so long as a consort or Guard does not abuse this provision to manipulate the relationship the other pony has.”

“Oh,” Lace said. “Is Golden Lance married or seeing somepony?”

“As of now, no he is not,” Celestia answered.

“And when will the warding spell be cast on me?”

“I already cast it ten minutes ago.”

Lace gave the Princess a strange look, like she was simultaneously confused and angered, but Celestia opened her wing and spoke before she could. “Come here, please,” she asked.

Lace took a few extra steps until she was standing next to Celestia and looking out the window down into Canterlot Central. It was then that the Princess spoke again.

“Ms. Lace, please tell me what you see down there.”

“I, uh, see Canterlot,” Lace stated. The answer seemed rather obvious.

“And what does it look like?” Celestia asked.

Lace gave it a long look, noting the many brothels and filthy-looking buildings stacked closely around one another. Many windows were boarded up, black smoke poured out of rickety looking chimneys and the ponies walking the street looked like peasants.

“Hopeless,” Lace said tonelessly.

“Exactly. This city used to be a shining wonder of Equestria, but the war took its toll here just as much as it did on the borders. When I raise the sun, I see the way the city is and think of how the rest of Equestria looks. It stabs at my heart to know I let this happen and I want nothing more than to repair the damage, but the remedy is no simple rebuilding of the city. Ponies everywhere have lost the joy of living and believe much the same as you do; that I have forgotten them.”

Lace gulped again, wondering if Princess Celestia had been listening earlier.

“I want you to know this, though,” Celestia continued. “I have not forgotten about you or the hundreds of nameless mares pressed into prostitution, whatever their circumstances may be. If I was to simply shut down the brothels and release them into the world with all the battlescarred Royal Guards, nothing would change. Their will to live would not be restored and Equestria would never recover. What I am doing here with you is the best solution I can offer under these circumstances, but I am sorry that I let you and the hundreds of other mares down.”

A long silence ensued after the apology with Lace unable to look at the Princess. Thankfully, a sharp rapping came from the doorway and Princess Celestia looked behind them.

“Your highness,” came a stern older voice. “Captain Steelheart reporting.”

“Ah, good timing, Steelheart. Is Corporal Lance with you?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Poor sod’s kept himself sober for the past twelve hours to not make a fool of himself in front of you again. I presume she is his new consort?” asked Steelheart, giving Lace a discerning look.

“Yes, she is. Do send him in.”

“At once, my Lady.”

A clanking of armor came from behind before Steelheart spoke again.

“Corporal, ten hut!”

The sounds of a pony swiftly marching on the marble floor rang throughout the room, making Lace gulp again. She had no idea what to expect, but once the hoofsteps stopped, she took a deep breath.

“Corporal Golden Lance at your service, Ma’am!” came a much younger voice.

“Welcome back, Corporal,” Celestia spoke. “I have a very special mare for you to meet today. Why don’t you say hello to him?”

Closing her eyes and breathing slowly, Lace turned her head away from the window before opening her eye halfway. A sultry grin snuck its way onto her face as she moved her tail, revealing the strong and toned flanks underneath without showing anything else. Behind her stood a handsome Royal Guard, decked out in his full regalia. He stood with a crisp salute, eyes pointed forward and snout raised, just like those Royal Guard recruitment posters. Still, Lace noticed his eyes drop a bit to look at her before forcing themselves back up. Something had caught his eye.

“Hello there, Golden Lance. I’m Black Lace, your new consort,” Lace spoke in a well rehearsed tone that had always sent shivers down the spines of her stallions. Lance was no exception to this, since she saw him stifle a flinch.

“Permission to speak freely, Ma’am!” Lance shouted.

“You may,” Celestia answered.

“With all due respect, I do not feel she is a good match for me, Ma’am,” Lance stated.

Lace closed her lips, still smiling with them while she ground her teeth. First thing she was going to do would be to force him to submit to her authority, whether he wanted to or not. The second item would be to make him stop doing those dumb looking salutes all the other guards did.

“And what makes you say that, Corporal?”

“Your Highness, she is a widely known prostitute who has been arrested multiple times for battery and even assault. She is also known for extreme episodes of lust-fueled frenzies.”

“Seems you know quite a bit about her, then. Tell me, how do you know all of this?” Celestia asked.

Golden Lance did not reply as he set his hoof down, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“I believe Princess Celestia asked you a question there, son. I’m inclined to think she expects an answer,” an old gray pony spoke from behind him, his white, perfectly-waxed mustache bouncing lightly with his armor.

“Sir, yes, sir. One of my former consorts said I was like her,” Lance said, snapping his head back up. “When I had a nightmare, she was screaming I was crazy like her.”

Lace raised her eyebrows at that.

“All the more reason the two of you are perfect for each other,” Celestia said with a smile. “If there are no more objections, I believe you are familiar with what goes on from here. The two of you will be escorted to your home, Corporal, where Ms. Lace will take up residence with you. A report on the progress is required every week. You will be answering directly to Commander Emerald Fire, Corporal and you, Ms. Lace, will be reporting to Ms. Rosy Fire. Any questions?”

After three seconds of nopony speaking, Princess Celestia nodded and smiled to all of them. “You both are about to start the most difficult journey of your lives, but if you both put effort into it, the rewards will change you for the better. I wish you both luck and look forward to seeing your recovery.”

Her horn glowed as a white swirl of magic wrapped around her before she disappeared with a ‘pop’, leaving Lace and Lance to stare at each other. Steelheart cleared his throat and smiled to Lace.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Lace, but my duties call me away. I will have all of your belongings be brought to Corporal Lance’s residence while the two of you get acquainted. Again, it was a great honor to meet you.” He bowed to her before turning to Lance and yelling, “Corporal!”

Lance immediately shot back into his salute.

“Corporal Lance, you are to treat this fine young mare with the utmost respect that is expected of all the Spearhead Corps! Do you understand?” There was a slight snicker as Steelheart finished his question. Lace simply couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at Steelheart referring to her as a “fine young mare”.

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“And do you understand, soldier, that failure to do so will result in the termination of your rank and career as a member of the Spearhead Corps and the Royal Guard?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” roared Lance, as if his life depended on it. Amusingly, Lace realized it kind of did.

“Good! When I see you again, I expect you to be a welcome member of society, not the drunk, prattling excuse for a Royal Guard you are! Do I make myself clear, soldier?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Lance shouted, stiffening his salute even more.

“Fine then! Dismissed!” Steelheart commanded before stomping through the door and down the hallway, his armor jingling like bells. Once the jingling faded, Lance remained with his hoof glued to the side of his head.

Lace on the other hoof, burst out into a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Lance demanded.

“Y-You are!” Lace said between laughs. “All that ‘sir, yes, sir’ and saluting.”

“And what is wrong with that?” Lance demanded. “That is how you address a superior officer!”

“Just, you. You look so funny doing it!”

“Oh right, because you never had to report to anypony before. I forgot you sat here in Canterlot while I made sure your ungrateful hide could laugh at me freely.”

Lace stopped laughing, but smiled at him as if he was still amusing while Lance scowled at her. For a few seconds, neither pony spoke while they kept eye contact.

“Oh, I think we are going to get along just fine, Corporal Lance,” Lace said, inching closer.

“As long as you remember who is in charge here, we will,” Lance spat back.

“Oh, but Corporal,” Lace said as her muzzle floated dangerously close to his. “I am always in control.”

“How much you want to bet?” Lance asked, glaring down at her.

“I’ll bet I can break you in three weeks. By then, you’ll be begging me to do things only I can do to you.”

“And if you don’t? What’s in it for me?” snorted Lance.

Lace smiled. “I never lose.”

“Well, be ready to. I’m a soldier, trained to ignore worse than you,” said Lance stoically.

Lace chuckled as she leaned in closer, positioning her mouth right at his ear.

“You can’t ignore me,” she cooed.

“What makes you think that?” Lance bit back, eyes fixed resolutely off on the other side of the room.

“Because,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I can do this.”

Lance was about to ask when he felt a hoof gently run up his chest, flicking over the tense muscles below. He looked down to see Lace move her hoof the opposite way, travelling in a line down his barrell.

“And this,” Lace continued, shifting the hoof to his neck.

She pressed softly on the side of his tensed, muscular neck before dragging her hoof down the side of his spine, causing Lance to tremble slightly. Deep down, she had to admit she liked how tough his toned body felt.

“And this.”

She leaned in and bit playfully at his ear, causing it to flick and Lance to take in a sharp breath.

“I bet you’ve been away for a long time,” Lace whispered. “Just so full of pent up frustration just aching to be relieved.”

Her hoof moved from his neck around to his barrell again, tracing the collar of his armor.

“Did you ever get hurt out there?” she asked innocently.

“Yes,” Lance answered quickly. Immediately, he snapped his jaws shut, snarling at his own slip-up.

“Just so you know, I have a thing for scars,” Lace cooed. “I hope you show them to me one day.”

Lance grunted as he fought off the urge to reply, but he did see Lace’s eyes perk up a bit.

“By the way, you must be very well endowed. too. That armor looks like it’s getting tight.”

A huge blush broke out on Lance’s face as Lace descended into laughter again. Scowling, he looked away and mentally berated himself for his reaction.

“I believe you’ve just met your match, Mr. Prim and Proper,” Lace said, grinning maniacally. He looked like such an uptight pony, always following the rules and regulations; exactly the kind of stallion she loved to have begging at her hooves for more.

“What did you just call me?” Lance asked, spinning to face her with his beet red face.

“I always name my pets,” Lace cooed as she walked by him, flicking her tail at his chest.

“What in Equestria makes you think I am your pet?” he snapped, the indignation in his voice shattering the illusion of his Royal Guard self-control.

“Because you’re on a short leash with me. Play nice and I may let you run free,” Lace said, stopping at the doorway. She turned to him and winked once, making sure it was agonizingly slow. Even from this distance, she knew Lance could and would not focus on anything but her.

“Don’t talk down to me like that,” Lance forced out through his grinding teeth.

“Oh, shush you,” Lace said, turning away and pointing her nose in the air. “Now, let’s go see where we’ll be staying. My expectations better be met by this place or you’ll be sleeping on the floor like a good dog.”

She took three carefully planned steps forward before stopping in the hallway. She glanced back to see Lance staring at her with his jaw hanging slack and eye twitching.

“Come on!” she demanded, stomping a hoof into the carpet. “We don’t have all day! Forward, march!” Without further ado, Lace spun around and strutted down the hall.

Despite the incoherent grumbling coming from Lance, she smiled as she heard his armor shift and hoofsteps follow her. He was beginning to learn who was in charge here.

Author's Note

Vren55 here. If you like to read more of Comet's work and you like this story... I personally suggest Left With A Kiss. It's more mature... and darker in some ways, but also a very good read.

3. Chain's Arc: Lace Tears Up the Place

By Comet Burst

“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t expecting this,” Lace said as she looked around the room.

“What does that mean?” Lance replied, gently pushing his way past her.

Lace gave a soft growl and bit at his tail, but Lance managed to take a long enough stride that all her teeth caught was air. Still, the act had its benefits, for Lace as she got a good look at Lance’s rump. A smug smile crept up as she admired the toned quality of the muscles, but Lance began to turn around and she averted her gaze to the room again.

It was a large living area with wooden floors and a large brick fireplace on the far right wall. In front of it was a wide round rug with an ancient key pattern around the border and two sitting pillows in the center. Next to the door sat a squishy-looking couch, just big enough for two ponies to sit or cuddle on. In the back were two hallways leading in opposite directions and a single door, which sat wide open to reveal a bathroom behind it. The walls were mostly blank, save for a spear and shield hanging above the fireplace and several candleholders strewn about.

All in all, it would have been a place Lace could have gotten used to, but it screamed one thing: sterility. The walls, the couch, and even the rug were a pristine white, while the bricks of the fireplace were scrubbed clean. The wooden floor was the only thing that looked remotely dirty, but she could tell it had been swept and cleaned recently.

“No wonder you’re still single,” Lace said. “It looks like a grandmare lives here.”

She looked at Lance, who glared daggers at her.

“No it does not!” he roared. “I cleaned the place up to make my guest feel more welcome!”

“Lance, I feel like I need a bath just to walk in here,” Lace said, raising an eyebrow. “And then I need to be wearing a sundress and drinking tea to sit on the couch.”

“Whatever,” Lance grumbled, turning away and walking to the hallway on the left. “Be as sarcastic as you want. I don’t care what you think of my home or how I live.”

“Seriously, Lance. If there was a table with porcelain figurines somewhere in this house, this place would pass for a matron’s residence,” Lace called, taking a tentative step into the room.

Lance turned the corner, but froze as he saw the dresser in his room. Atop it were some lovely looking porcelain statuettes, each depicting a beautiful mare in a silken dress and gorgeous hoofpainted flowers.

“Oh, buck,” he whispered. How could he have forgotten to put those away?

Just as he took a step forward, he heard a burst of maniacal laughter. Spinning around, he saw Lace laughing her flank off and pointing at the dresser behind him.

“You actually have those!” she screamed between laughs.

“They were a gift from my mother!” Lance yelled back, his face turning beet red.

Lace fell to the floor, overcome with laughter as Lance turned around and practically ran into the room, his armor clinking as he did. Once inside, he threw a nasty look at Lace before slamming the door shut, hoping it would muffle her. Unfortunately, the walls and door were thinner than he realized.

Turning back to the statuettes, he grumbled incoherently as he trotted to a closet beside the dresser. Opening it, he saw the familiar ponyquin inside. Thanking Celestia that he remembered to put that thing away, he dragged it out and began unbuckling his armor.

Outside the door, Lace finally stopped laughing and turned away from the door, looking down the opposite hallway. From this vantage point, she saw a brown cabinet sitting on the cleanest-looking checkered-tile floor the world had ever seen. Since snooping was one of her favorite pastimes, she immediately trotted over to the cabinet, only to be blown away by the rest of the room.

While the rest of the house screamed that Lance was a neat freak, the kitchen was far from the spotless standard she had come to expect. Dishes piled up near the sink. The trash overflowed with a small mountain of clear glass bottles. Half-eaten sandwiches and morsels of meals long gone littered the counter. While no ants had found the mess, Lace could see them marching around on the opposite side of the window above the sink, searching for some way to get in. Glancing back at the cabinet, she raised an eyebrow and smiled mischievously.

Reaching up, she grabbed one of the shiny brass handles and pulled the door open, hoping to find some sort of dirt she could use on Lance. Upon seeing what the cabinet held, however, made her smile drop into a gaping hole as she stared in awe of its contents. Rows upon rows of glass bottles lined the interior, each with a different colored liquid housed within. While Lace was not a drinker herself, she still could tell the seven kinds of whiskey apart from the fine wines made near the Frozen North and even the bottle of vodka whose label was written in another language. She let out a small whistle as she glanced over the rest of the contents before gently shutting the door.

“Wonder what else he’s hiding in here,” Lace mused.

So far, Lance had a pretty jarring presentation of his home. While prim and proper on the outside, it seemed that there was evidence of something far more sinister in here. She couldn’t help but smile more deviously as she looked back towards his, no their bedroom and wondered what treasures lay in there. The porcelain figures were probably just the tip of the iceberg.

She took a few silent steps down the hallway before she heard Lance’s telltale grunts coming from the other side of the door. She paused, her ears sticking straight up as her grin widened even more. Lance continued to grunt louder and more frequently, causing Lace to take a few more steps until she was right in front the door, pressing her ear to it.

“Come on,” Lance muttered, followed by the sounds of shifting armor. “Just get in there.”

Lace had lived at a brothel long enough to know what a grunting stallion was doing in a room all by himself.

“Oh, Lance, you dirty colt,” she whispered, feeling a tingle of electricity run down her spine. “Sounds like you need a little… assistance.”

She reached up and fluffed her bushy mane before pulling part of it over one of her eyes. She flashed her best seductive grin and put a hoof to the doorknob. If all went well, perhaps she’d work the liquor in later. She was pretty sure he’d go crazy for her after seeing what she could do with an empty bottle or, better yet, a full one.

“Dang it! Get in there!” Lance nearly shouted.

Her imagination running wild, Lace turned the knob and slowly opened the door, unwilling to break his concentration. When it was open just wide enough, she slipped into the room, looking at the wall to the right of her the whole time. Once she was in, she turned to the bed, expecting to see Lance lying on his back with nothing more to hide.

Much to her surprise, he wasn’t there.

Looking around the room, she froze as she saw his back to her, devoid of armor and propped up on a ponyquin. The dummy wore a suit of golden armor very similar to the set Lance had worn earlier. Lace to knit her brow. Her seductive grin quickly became a disturbed frown as he wiggled around on it.

“Just get it the hole!” Lance commanded, pushing himself farther on top of the ponyquin.

Lace was sure her fragile grip on reality broke in the silence that followed. Lance grunted once more and made a small jump, his hooves leaving the ground. From this view, Lace could only imagine what life was like on the battlefield.

“So, you’re into colts?” she asked. “That explains a lot, actually.”

Lance seemed to jump at the sound of her voice, scrambling to get off the ponyquin. The chestpiece fell off the dummy and landed with a soft thunk on the carpet.

“Lace! What the buck are you doing in my room?!” he shouted, his face turning bright red.

“Well, I thought you were indulging yourself and I came to help, but I see you have all the toys you need,” she said, nodding to the ponyquin.

Lance tilted his head.

“What? What are you—”

He asked before looking at the dummy. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no! This is not what you think!”

“I saw you mounting it, Lance. I’m not judging you.”

“I wasn’t mounting! I was trying to get my armor to stay on it!”

“Looked like you were getting ready for a wild fantasy with another guard back here,” Lace said with a smirk. “I’m not usually into voyeurism, but I’d watch that.”

“Ugh, shut up! Just shut up!” Lance shook his head in disgust. “What the buck makes you think I’m into stallions?”

Lace took a step forward and locked eyes with him.

“Lance, you decorate your house with porcelain figures, have enough liquor to get a platoon wasted, and have scared off any mare assigned to you. If you just come out and say it, I can leave and they’ll assign a nice stallion to you.”

Lance’s eye twitched.

“I am not a coltcuddler!”

“Lance, it’s okay if you’re into stallions. If you want me to stay, we can even have a few over if you want.”

“Oh, my Celestia! Shut up about it! I’m into mares, not colts!”

Lance heaved a few heavy breaths as Lace watched him with mild interest. As they stood there, she suddenly had a devilish idea.

“Then kiss me,” she said.

Lance froze, a disgusted look on his face.

“What?”

“Kiss me. That will tell me if you’re lying or not.”

Lance’s mouth twitched as he furrowed his brow, a bewildered look replacing the disgust.

“No! I don’t know where your mouth has been!” he cried.

Lace allowed a small smile to grace her snout.

“Then I’ll go and leave you to your little buddy. I’ll inform Rosy and Emerald it won’t work out since you’re into colts.”

As she turned, Lance grabbed her foreleg. She glanced at his forehoof and back up to him. His face was locked into a scowl. A small twinge of fear ran through Lace’s chest. He did look rather intimidating when he was angry, but she retained her smile.

“I hate you,” he whispered as he leaned in and closed his eyes. Lace’s smile became wider as he met her lips.

Right from the start, Lace knew Lance had very little experience in romance, but the kiss seemed to demonstrate his ineptitude more than any words could. He was stiff, pushy, and totally felt like a rock, but she had been through worse. She slowly moved her lips around, trying to get him to part his, but they remained resolutely shut. If he had ever kissed a mare before, it was clear he had yet to experience the magic the tongue could work.

Still, this had other benefits besides gauging his romantic abilities. Since she forced him to make the move, it was a sign of how much control she was gaining over him, a thought that made her internally smile even wider.

If it was this easy to just get a kiss from him, then breaking him would take even less time than she anticipated. Three weeks? At this rate, it would be a week or less before she had him right where she wanted him.

As Lance pulled away, he scowled once again, knowing Lace was going to make some crack about his poor kissing ability. It was a good thing she’d never know that she was his first kiss by a mare outside his family. He shuddered a bit as he imagined the torment he would receive if she ever found that out.

“Okay, I can guess one of two things from that,” Lace said, staring into Lance’s eyes. “Either that was your first kiss or you like colts.”

Lance’s pupils dilated at that. In the far recesses of his mind, he wondered just how much she knew about him or if she could read his thoughts.

“Think what you want,” he said, turning and walking out the door. “I know I’m not into colts.”

As he left, Lace followed him with her eyes, admiring his flank again. Coupled with the impression of the kiss, her mind began to make some rather interesting images of the two of them.

“Oh, you poor, poor thing,” she mumbled, placing a hoof on her bottom lip. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Lace wasn’t sure how, but she came to the startling realization that she was lounging on the couch when a swift knock was heard at the door. She glanced up and looked about the empty room as Lance sat on the floor, his eyes glued to a book that came seemingly from nowhere.

“You want to get that, Lance?” she asked before rubbing her head into the hoofrest.

The silence that followed was broken by another knock.

“Really? Just going to ignore me and whoever is at the door?” she said, lifting her head and raising an eyebrow.

In response, Lance turned the page before another knock came, this time more forceful than the previous ones.

“Wow, real mature, Mr. War Hero. I can see you being a big hit at the Summer Sun Festival,” Lace quipped, throwing her own mean look at him.

“I’m not expecting any company,” he said in a toneless voice as he continued to read.

“Jeez, and ponies say I’m crazy. At least I have enough manners to open the door when somepony knocks,” Lace grumbled before the door was pounded on again.

“Corporal Golden Lance, are you there?” called a stern voice. “We have a parcel for Ms. Chains.”

Lace froze, staring at the door while Lance continued reading.

“If it’s for you, why don’t you answer it, Ms. Perfect Manners?” Lance asked.

She immediately turned to him and threw the meanest scowl she could muster before rolling off the couch. Begrudgingly, she walked over to the door and opened it, revealing several more stern-looking guard like the ones earlier today.

“Well, I should’ve expected this, too,” she mumbled as the guards turned their gazes down to her.

“Ms. Chains, we have your supplies from your home to make you feel comfortable,” the lead guard said as a dingy box was carried up to her by the others.

Despite the disheveled appearance, Lace was actually surprised by how big the box was. It was carried by about three of the guards, which made her wonder if they brought only essentials or the whole room. With a round of audible grunts, the box was placed on the threshold. The guards all nodded crisply before turning and marching back towards the street.

Lace risked casting a small glance behind her to see Lance peeking up at the box before quickly returning to his book, pretending to not be interested. Spurred on by his actions, Lace grinned once again and decided to do something really dumb.

“Oh, wow!” she gasped as she opened the box. “This’ll be great!”

She could almost hear the dread building in Lance’s chest. She reached in and grabbed the first thing she could see, which so happened to be her faithful brown whip. Pulling it out, she placed the end in her mouth and cracked it once, causing Lance to nearly sprint out of the room.

“Wonderful!” Lace said around the object in her mouth. “Momma missed you.”

“What the buck is wrong with you?!” Lance shouted, his face turning red again.

“Me? Nothing!” Lace shouted back, a mad look in her eyes.

Before he could say anything further, Lace whipped her head back, letting the whip fly out of her mouth and drape itself across the spear on the wall perfectly. Both of them watched the whip fly, Lace’s eyes gleaming while fear and anger seethed in Lance’s.

Turning back around, they stared for a second into each other’s eyes.

“Don’t!” Lance roared, but Lace had already turned around and began digging into the box.

Objects not meant to be seen outside of a brothel suddenly sprouted wings as they made their way around the room, finding themselves dangerously close to Lance’s possessions. He shouted and fought his way over to Lace, but stopped to pull a set of silver chains from the mantle of his fireplace before a black mask nearly hit him in the face. What looked to be a body sling landed directly on his pillow and nearly tripped him, but he got to the door without being caught by the implements of sin.

“Lace, stop!” Lance grabbed at her flank to instead have a set of books placed in his hooves.

“Find somewhere for those!” Lace called from the box. “And beware the pages that are sticking together!”

Lance looked down and nearly retched when he read the first title.

“Where am I going to put these?” he roared at her flank.

“Presumably the bathroom!” Lace called back from inside the box. “You’ll get more use out of them there!”

At that, Lance practically threw the books halfway across the room and, after wiping his hooves on his coat, reached out to grab Lace once again. Thankfully, he managed to wrap his forelegs around her barrel and pull her out of the box.

“Hey! Put me down!” Lace shouted as she began to kick.

Lance happily obliged and dropped her onto the couch, where she rolled over and looked up at him with a pouting face. Lance responded with the most serious scowl he could.

“Listen here,” he began, his voice wavering. “I am ordered to give you shelter and companionship, not to be your little plaything! I will NOT tolerate you throwing your disgusting toys all over my home, I will NOT allow filth like those books to reside anywhere in this place, and I will NOT take orders from you!”

For the first time since meeting him, Lace felt herself inching backwards at the infuriated snarl on his face. His eyes were pinpricks and his teeth daggers, looking like he would spout fire at any moment. She hated to admit it, but he could look like a hardened killer when he wanted to.

“Do we have an agreement?”

Wordlessly, Lace nodded.

“Good,” Lance said, backing away a bit. “I need a drink now. These things of yours better not be here when I get back, got it?”

Lace nodded again as Lance grunted and turned around, carefully stepping over all the various toys littered about the room.

Once he rounded the corner, he breathed a sigh of relief as his best friend since the war, the liquor cabinet, came into view. He pulled open the creaky door and blindly grabbed a bottle from the interior, popping the cork off with his teeth. After spitting it over at the counter full of dirty dishes, he swept his head back and began to drink from the bottle like he had just run a few miles in the desert. The burning taste of scotch, made him squeeze his eyes shut, but the pain faded as the bottle got lighter.

Eventually, he pulled it away and hissed as his head began to spin. It took a few shakes of his head and a steadying hoof on the table, but the room finally stayed put. Taking one more swig of the scotch, he walked out into the room to notice it was, much to his surprise, clean. Lace sat on the couch, watching him with an innocent expression while he scratched his head.

“What? Where did you put all the stuff?” he asked. “I was gone for, like, three minutes.”

“More like thirteen,” Lace said.

“Really?” Lance asked. “Well, I’ll be. At least my home doesn’t look like a sex shop anymore.”

He blinked a couple times, allowing the liquor to dull his headache.

“Well, uh, it looks real nice. Thank you for cleaning it up.”

Lace blinked and tilted her head.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I said thank you,” Lance replied. “Don’t make me say it again or I’ll take it back.”

Lace blinked again as a sudden cold feeling filled her chest. Lance thanked her for doing something nice? She wrestled with her newfound confusion as he trotted over to his room.

“Hey, I don’t remember shutting this door,” he mumbled as his hoof reached for the knob.

Lace’s eyes widened as she heard the door open, followed by Lance shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Lace! What the buck did you do to my room?”

Lance stared in horror at his room, perfectly outfitted with all of the toys that had been in his living room. His ponyquin wore the latex outfit over the armor and had the body sling draped over it, the sticky-paged books sat on his nightstand, and the porcelain figurines now sat next to wooden carvings of ponies in positions that would make his mother faint.

“Oh, I thought our room looked pretty drab, so I spruced it up!” Lace called from the living room, a playful tone in her voice.

Lance continued to stare at the room, his jaw slack before he shook his head and brought the bottle of scotch back to his muzzle. He would need the whole bottle and maybe a few more before lights out.

3. Sheets's Arc: Sheets Moves In

By vren55

When Sheets arrived at her house, a modest, two-story, teal colored house in one of the nicer Canterlot neighbourhoods, she almost cried in relief. Barding had pestered her for the entire walk to her abode, mainly trying to worm her name out of her. When she had deftly deflected his offers of kisses and chances to “see him in action” he had then turned to guessing her name.

“So is this your house, Velvet Vixen?” asked Barding eagerly. His demeanor showed no sign that a hundred or so of his guesses had been rejected.

“Who is Velvet Vixen, Lord Barding?” asked Sheets, barely able to suppress the strain in her voice. Sheets was beginning to realize why so many mares had grown frustrated at Barding so quickly. He was relentless, crass, and while not vain, too eager to make a fool of himself. Before Barding could reply, Sheets trotted forward and unlocked the door to her home.

Well… she couldn’t really call it home. As Sheets lit several of the room’s lamps with her magic, she began to notice the slight sprinkling of dust on the living room chairs and the wooden coffee table. Sighing in slight annoyance, Sheets privately resolved to clean the room up sometime soon.

Then again, there was no rush for Sheets to do so as she didn’t like entertaining guests at her own home. Stallions coming and going from her house were too great a risk, and her house was nowhere near large enough to host any gathering of the necessary prestige.

“Wow. You aren’t here very often, are you?” stated Barding. Sheets glanced reprovingly at the stallion, who coughed as his hoof brushed up a cloud of dust.

“You stay here, and don’t touch anything,” said Sheets before she began to trot up the stairs.

Barding snickered. “Oh? And what if I do?”

From the landing in her staircase, Sheets winked down at Barding. “Then you would have been a bad colt, and bad colts don’t get their desserts.” As she spoke, Sheets stretched her lithe frame across the rail, allowing her dress to ride higher up her flank. Barding’s eyes widened and he promptly sat down on one of the less dusty chairs.

“Good boy,” said Sheets before she gracefully trotted up the stairs and entered her room.

The only room on the top floor aside from its adjoining bathroom, Sheets’s bedroom was the largest in the house. Sheets walked past her medium-sized four-posted bed that took up most of the space in the centre. It was a smaller bed frame than most nobles had, because she rarely used the bed. Also, she was so accustomed to sleeping with a stallion that it was difficult for her to sleep alone on a large mattress.

Standing in front of her walk-in closet, Sheets opened the door to reveal row upon row of perfectly arranged dresses. Most of her dresses were gifts from past customers, whilst others were those she had bought. The styles of clothing varied. Most were Equestrian high-society dresses, but there were several foreign apparels, such as a heavily embroidered yukata from Neighpon with matching ribbon and sashes. She levitated an assortment of these ensembles as well as the two travelling chests that she used for her foreign business ventures. As an afterthought, Sheets took the Neighpon yukata, smiling as she admired its delicate crimson embroidery.

Once she had carefully arranged the dresses in one of her chests, Sheets turned to the chest of drawers beside her bed. From their compartments, Sheets drew an assortment of bed robes, babydoll dresses, lingerie, stockings, and socks. They came in all designs and colors, many of them laced. She put these in a linen bag with a drawstring and into the same chest as her dresses.

A quick trip to her marble and granite bathroom allowed Sheets to retrieve some of her best lotions, oils, and ointments, which she filled up the first chest with. Closing the chest, Sheets locked it and pocketed the key in her purse.

Trotting past the large cheval mirror that stood beside the bed, Sheets reached her mahogany dressing table. The dressing table’s top held several smaller caskets, each magically locked. Sheets levitated several of them and carefully arranged them into her second chest. These were her favorite jewels, ornaments, necklaces, earrings, and bracelets. She had many more, locked in magically sealed strongboxes in the Canterlot Bank, but the accoutrements in these caskets were her favorites.

After choosing her final set of jewelry and taking its respective box, Sheets saw a small, worn, wooden box with an H carved onto it. Sheets was about to shove that casket away but she hesitated and opened it instead, withdrawing a golden pendant and necklace. The pendant was a simple oval plaque engraved with an elegant H that was surrounded by inset opals. Draping the thin golden chain over her neck, Sheets fastened the clasp and walked to the mirror. As she examined herself in the mirror, Sheets raised an eyebrow and smiled contemplatively as she admired how the opals color complemented her eyes.

“Now I remember why I kept it,” said Sheets softly to herself. She replaced the necklace into its box and arranged it among its fellows in the travel chest before heading back to the bathroom to get what most stallions would call “mare things.”

Lord Barding sat still for as long as he could stand. He honestly did, but the stallion couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over the room. Sleep-deprived as he was, Barding noticed that although his most recent observation was correct, he had missed a few things. Despite the thin layer of dust on some of the tables, the rest of the house was remarkably well-organized and the furnishings were of excellent quality and condition. The round oak dining table, surrounding chairs, and couches were not new, but had not been used often and their ornate carvings denoted their exquisite quality. The kitchen counter had a few scratches here and there, but its polished granite surface glimmered in the dim light.

Curiosity got the better of Barding as he trotted through the kitchen and found the pantry door. Using his hoof to quietly push the door open, he frowned as he examined the contents within. As reflected in the rest of the house, it was well-organized and well-stocked. Curiously, most of the food inside was kept in sealed jars, dried food like preserved apples, raisins, cheeses, nuts, some hay, and oats. There were no fresh vegetables or grass.

“Curious, so she regularly doesn’t return to this house and plans accordingly for it,” concluded Barding. That would make sense. The Veterans Rehabilitation program had previously paired him with prostitutes or courtesans, and since his new partner was also in that line of work, she wouldn’t need to return home at night or use the house for social events.

Except… his new mare had a house, that was fully-stocked and modestly furnished. She had to be one of the higher-end courtesans in order to afford all of this when Equestria’s economy was stagnant.

Closing the door, Barding opened one of the drawers to reveal many sets of neatly arranged silverware. Narrowing his eyes, Barding blinked as he noted the shine and high quality of the utensils. Again, they showed very little use. The strangest thing of all though were that these sets were of several different designs, as if they hadn’t been bought all at once.

“Hmm… were these gifts?”

“Very astute Mr. Messy Mane.”

Barding jumped, slamming the drawer behind him and spinning around.

It was Little Miss Foxface, levitating two heavy travelling chests behind her. Barding grinned as he once again focused on that sexy cream dress, his eyes straining to get a peek at her slender flank just under the hem of the dress. None of his partners had ever been as elegant or as beautiful as this mare.

“I thought I told you to sit down and not to touch anything,” said Miss Foxface, an eyebrow raised.

Barding merely snickered at the mare’s frown and slowly sidled up to her before suddenly raising his hoof to tap the mare on the nose.

“Boop! Touched you!” exclaimed Barding. The mare wrinkled her nowse in disgust. Yep, she was just like the other ones. Pretty little mares that were easily angered and flustered. After all, he had bugged her half to death with questions and guesses for her name. Barding had been quite surprised that they had reached the house without her even batting an eyelid.

However, had just touched her when she had told him not to touch anything, and he had done it with his rather filthy hoof.

The mare frantically wiped away at the smudge on her nose and once it was clean she glared at Barding with daggers in her eyes. The stallion chuckled at that. Mares were so cute when they got angry. Especially when they were as gorgeous as this one.

And then his partner’s slight scowl was suddenly replaced by a wicked grin.

“Is that so? Let me return the favor then…”

Stunned, Barding’s eyes widened as the tall, elegant mare walked forward, her eyes winking seductively behind her long lashes. He grinned eagerly as Foxface tipped his head up with one hoof, her face drawing closer to his. All Barding could see were the gorgeous, regal purple eyes that drew him in.

“Here’s my luggage. You will carry it,” said the mare, and that was all the warning Barding got as he felt the weight of two travelling chests slam onto his back, flattening him to the tiled floor.

Struggling to his hooves, Barding gingerly balanced the two chests on his back, grimacing at the satisfied smile on his partner’s face. “Why do stallions always have to carry the luggage of the mares?” he groaned.

The mare giggled and slowly turned around. Barding’s eyes widened and he gawked as the mare seductively showed her rear to him. He couldn’t see her flanks, but he had a good view to his mare’s long slender legs.

“Because, Mr. Messy Mane, you’re not getting any of this if you don’t carry my luggage,” said Little Miss Foxface, cheekily looking over her shoulder to bat her eyelashes. Barding grinned as his partner trotted to the door of her house, hips swaying just a little bit.

As Barding kept following Little Miss Foxface, he couldn’t help but ponder who exactly was his partner. He had had several other mares assigned to him, but they had nothing on the beauty that was his current partner. Yet, he still didn’t know her name. Her house, seemingly immaculate, only raised more questions about his partner’s unique nature. He never knew what she was thinking; she never reacted to him as he expected. She was a great mystery, a tangled ball of intrigue.

And boy did he like her.

After a long walk through the plain and familiar streets of Canterlot to an area she did not usually visit, Sheets had to resist the temptation to stare at Barding’s house, the place where she would be staying for the next three months.

Frankly, Barding’s home was not a house. It was surrounded by a low brick wall slightly above her head. Barding had opened a locked, iron-barred gate that led into a garden, with a small path made from flagstones that led to the actual house.

The house proper was similar to the country mansions of rural nobility. Its walls were made of sandy-red brick that gave the building an earthy quality. While it was a rather basic rectangular structure of two stories, the house was enclosed by a veranda that surrounded its lower story. In fact the lower floor had many sections where brick wall gave way to wooden sliding doors, all of which were shut. The veranda itself was fitted with a table, chairs, and an outdoor stove, all of which was covered with a wooden roof. On the second story, light-green wooden shutters barred numerous arched- upper story windows. The roof was made of red clay tiles and featured three chimney stacks equally spread out. Off to the side was a smaller hut-like structure, which Sheets assumed were for the servants of the manor.

From these architectural hints, Sheets quickly concluded that the house’s owner had a reasonable amount of wealth and, while he liked his privacy, also liked open air and had a penchant for showing off.

However, what was unique about the house was the immensely tall, circular tower that rose from its centre and into the sky. Made of the same red brick that composed the main house, the tower was capped with a conical clay tile roof. Sheets could spot a balcony near its peak.

“Is that a spelltower?” asked Sheets. She knew it was a spelltower, but she had never seen one at such a close distance. Spelltowers were exclusive to wealthy, extremely skilled spellcasters. They were expensive to construct as they needed very strong materials to do so.

Barding nodded. “Indeed. I conduct all my experiments there.”

“So you’re a mage?” Sheets’s curiosity was very much perked. Mages used to be one of the ruling social groups in the Equestrian political circles. They had been the intelligentsia of Equestria—rich, cultivated, skilled teachers and philosophers.

Sheets had never met or made the acquaintance of any mage since almost all of them had volunteered for service in the Equestrian military. A good fewer of their number had returned.

“Eeyup. One of Canterlot’s best, or so I say,” said Barding, pointing at his cutie mark. Sheets didn’t glance at the stallion’s flank, and instead examined the mark from the corner of her eye. The mark was composed of a full set of silver plate armor wrapped in the bright-yellow glow of magic.

Drawing her full attention back to Barding, Sheets followed the stallion onto the veranda with a bit of hesitation. Barding was quite messy, and it would stand to reason his house was as well. Sheets had seen no sign of that, at least not yet on the exterior of the house.

As Barding opened the door Sheets’s delicate nose caught the whiff of a rotten stench and she groaned internally. Taking in a deep breath, Sheets followed her partner and plunged into the house’s darkness.

Barding’s house was of a rather strange, yet innovative design. The lowermost floor had almost no internal partitions. There was a stone-walled area with a metal door that Sheets assumed to be the pantry, as well as another plaster-walled area with a wooden door, which Sheets guessed to be the ground floor bathroom. Apart from those obstructions, Sheets could see everything in the house, even the tiled kitchen area near a large cooking fireplace that was surrounded by granite-topped kitchen counters with built-in drawers and shelves. The roof appeared to be supported by perfectly spaced out wooden columns. Wondering how anypony could get any privacy here, Sheets noticed a multitude of sliding straw-woven screens set in wood frames that could be maneuvered into place to partition the floor. Right now, they lay next to the staircase led up to an upper-floor balcony. Sheets could just spy the doors that opened up to what she assumed were bedrooms. In the middle of the entire construction was a gigantic, round stone base with a single door. Sheets guessed this led to the tower.

Unfortunately, the interior of the manor was exactly as Sheets had expected—a mess. Sheets cringed at the sight of dusty tables, shelves, and counters, the musky scent in the air, hair all over the floor and furniture. There was some mildew growing on the window frames and the light fixtures in the house were in terrible condition. No. It wasn’t as bad as she had been expecting, but it was certainly not clean. It was as if the whole floor hadn’t even been touched.

“Welcome, to my humble abode,” said Barding, sweeping a forehoof across the room. Sheets sniffed, but kept a straight face as her “partner” dropped her luggage next to the staircase and turned to face her.

Admittedly the house was rather well-designed and far less cramped than Sheets imagined. It was also quite luxurious in its own way. Apart from nouveau-riche design of the house itself, Sheets spied velvet sofas, mahogany-framed lounge chairs, and other pieces of exquisitely crafted furniture that she expected would belong to a noble set around what she believed was a rectangular fire pit, with a smoke catcher above it. This all told Sheets one thing.

Barding was loaded. Yet, where were the servants? Sheets remembered seeing a smaller house outside that could be for a caretaker and his family or a butler living on site. The state of the house suggested otherwise.

“Well? Is it to your liking?” asked Barding, a too-wide smile stretching across his features. Sheets wasn’t sure if the stallion was being sarcastic or not, but she was certainly not appreciating it.

“It is a house that certainly befits a stallion of your stature, Lord Messy,” said Sheets.

“Thank you—” Barding blinked as he put his partner’s teasing smile and the impudent tone of her voice together. The stallion frowned. “It’s not that dirty.”

Sheets raised an eyebrow, the same smile not leaving her features. “Did I say it was dirty?”

Barding opened his mouth for quick quip, but found himself speechless.

“Well… I’m not cleaning it,” said Barding. His chin upturned, he trotted away from Sheets.

“Then I suppose I will stay at my own house,” said Sheets, spinning on her hooves. She grinned as she saw Barding freeze in his tracks. The oddly desperate look on his face was unexpected, however.

“You can’t do that!” protested the stallion, almost charging toward Sheets. Barding stopped just before he reached Sheets, his eyes wide.

Filing away this odd outburst for later thought, Sheets decided it was best to persuade Barding with more “incentives.”

“But Barding, how am I supposed to stay in a house that’s so filthy?” crooned Sheets, sticking out her bottom lip.

The stallion squirmed, his eyes averted. “I’ll do some cleaning later,” he said with a sigh.

“But Barding, the dust will clog my sinuses, stain my fur, and ruin my beautiful figure. I’d never be able to wear my best outfits, show you my neatest tricks—”

“Tricks? What tricks?” asked Barding, his eyebrows shooting up into his mane, his wide eyes staring at Sheets.

“Oh I only wish I could show you, Barding, but until I get settled in, there’s nothing I can do.” Sheets sighed, pursing her lips and opening her eyes into the most forlorn expression she could make. Practice made perfect through seamless timing allowed Sheets to fix Barding with the full brunt of mock sadness and sexy.

As Sheets expected, Barding fell for it. His grimace was replaced by an eager grin that didn’t quite reach the ends of his face, but Sheets supposed there was only so much reluctance he could hide.

“In that case, let’s do this! I’ll fetch the cleaning supplies, you can go to your room and unpack.” Like a pegasus out of the gates, Barding lunged for the kitchen, but Sheets quickly interrupted him.

“Which room are you giving me?” asked Sheets. Before Barding could speak, Sheets cut in with, “I like my privacy.”

Barding looked thoughtful, but didn’t seem too disappointed. “You can take the upstairs master bedroom. I don’t use it anyway.”

“You don’t?” asked Sheets, hiding her surprise.

“Nope. I got my own bed in the mage tower.” Sheets did not notice Barding’s brow furrow and his eyes narrow. “By the way, the tower is off limits at all times.”

Smiling gently, Sheets strutted to Barding’s side. “But don’t you need help cleaning it, Mr. Messy Mane?”

In contrast to his earlier eagerness, Sheets saw Barding’s shoulders stiffen and his jaw tighten.

“No.”

Sheets didn’t bat an eye at Barding’s low tone, though she was incredibly curious as to what lay within the mage tower. Judging by the serious pall that had come over Barding’s features, she decided to refrain from asking.

“Then I will see you soon.”

It wasn’t long before Barding realized he had been suckered. Actually, Barding realized this a short time after he had finished gathering the soap, broom, washbucket, and rags needed to clean his manor.

Raising the frayed end of his broom, Barding did his best to smooth the bristles with his hoof, wincing. His washing equipment hadn’t been used in Celestia knew how long. As he paced through the ground floor of his manor, he gulped.

How in the world had this mare roped him into this? Barding knew that he had cleaned—well, briefly dusted—his house one time after his butler and maid quit. That hadbeen a while ago and by Celestia did his house need a cleaning, but he didn’t know if he could.

Barding blinked as he found himself on the second story, having walked himself up to the door of the master bedroom in his mansion. Not that he needed one, but the builders had insisted they needed to put one.

But past arguments with his builders weren’t on Barding’s mind. He was really wondering why Sheets was taking so long and whether he could persuade her to go easy on the cleaning. Raising a hoof, Barding tapped on the door.

“What is it, Lord Barding?”

“Uhh, Miss…” Barding paused and reflexively pawed at the floor. He still didn’t know the mare’s name! How pathetic was that? “Do you think we can maybe… postpone the cleanup?”

Barding thought he heard a chuckle before his partner’s refined, elegant, and perfectly enunciated voice echoed through the door. “You mean you are having second thoughts about our joint venture in cleaning your manor?”

The stallion blushed. “No! I mean… alright, yes,” he said with a sigh.

This time, Barding heard the mare’s giggle. He stepped back, unsure of what was to come next.

“Well, it’s a good thing I decided to change.” Barding frowned, unsure of what the mare meant, until she opened the door.

Maid Outfit.

Now, maid outfits are actually not that revealing, and this one was no different. Barding could not see the mare’s flank anymore. The two layers of dress and apron partially obscured his partner’s curves and provided a rather solid visual barrier.

The maid outfit is the ultimate tease costume. It hides, but it also reveals. This ensemble was composed of a black dress with short, puffed sleeves, and only slightly draped over her tail. The dress covered most of her flanks, but that and the short sleeves left his partner’s long legs free for him to see. Barding knew that he would have a great view if she bent over. Over the dress, the mare wore a white apron edged with lace frills, attached to her waist by means of thick white ribbons roped into an elegant bow. A white lace headpiece that barely tamed her luscious red mane revealed just a little more of her beautiful face. On her neck, just below her chin, she wore a black ribbon choker edged with white lace and inset with a black rose pendant, contrasting nicely with the periwinkle fur of her long neck.

Barding stared at his grinning partner, speechless. His mind at a loss, unable to comprehend the sheer sexiness of the mare in front of him. A mare who was slowly swaggering up to him.

“Well, Mister Barding, are you ready to work?”

Barding nodded vigorously, no more regrets in his mind.

“Excellent, then let’s get started.”

Cloth, mop, and broom in hoof, the pair worked their way through the house with their various cleaning implements. And for a while, the pair worked rather diligently at the task. Sheets gave stern but clear instructions to Barding, who was so enthralled by the dress and the occasional batting of her lashes that he obeyed them without hesitation. The master bedroom and adjoined washroom where Sheets was staying was soon clean as a whistle, along with the upstairs smoking room and guest rooms. They were also making rather good progress through the lower floors.

The seductive power of Sheets’s outfit didn’t stop Barding from making up nicknames and fashioning a limitless amount of over-flattering phrases. Sheets ignored them for the most part with a pert smile, but it there was a tightness in her jaw. Every time Barding spoke, her eyes narrowed very slightly.

“Can Ms. Beauty pass me the towel?”

“Lady Periwinkle has outdone herself again! My shelf is as shining as her eyes!”

“My Darling Red, I do believe my mother is your only rival in cleaning!”

If Barding only complimented Sheets, she would have been able to deal with it easily. No matter how badly they were worded, compliments were compliments and Sheets adored praise of any form. But the stallion, whether intentionally or not, seemed to have a knack at getting under her fur.

“If a clean surface meant you love me, we would already be married with several foals by tomorrow.”

Nevermind, he had to be doing it intentionally. “Why is this stallion being so annoying?” wondered Sheets as she stood on the kitchen counter to wipe away at one of the higher shelves. He was actually beginning to try her patience. While she believed she could put up with him today, what about tomorrow? And why was he being so persistent? If she was going to have any chance of simply staying with this stallion, she was going to have to force him to respect her or identify the root of the problem. Until then, she would have to endure as she always had done.

Meanwhile, Barding was getting bored and rather tired. After cleaning the house, he was exhausted, not to mention thirsty from his numerous attempts to guess his partner’s name and get a rise out of her. He really quite enjoyed seeing the elegant, but slightly forced smile that the mare made every time he made an outlandish comment. However, she was not giving him any attention and doing her utmost best to ignore him.

But while watching the mare wipe his shelves, Barding had a sudden idea. Trotting forward a bit, Barding lowered his head almost to the floor. As he found his prize, the stallion grinned. From his position on the floor, Barding had a clear glimpse up Sheets’s dress, so he could admire the mare’s slender flanks.

It was then that Barding noticed the image of a red fan emblazoned on the mare’s flanks. Her cutie mark. He had no idea what it represented, but given that most ponies’ names were similar to their cutie marks...

“I will never get bored of watching you clean my shelf, Crimson Fan.”

He grinned as the mare stiffened and her ears flicked up.

The mare turned to Barding, revealing narrowed eyes and lips pressed into a thin line. At least, they were for a moment, before her lips reformed into a devilish smile and her eyes began to dance vindictively.

Barding’s jaw fell agape as Little Miss Foxface stepped down and sashayed toward him, swinging her hips and tail. It wasn’t forced like the attempts of other mares—it was a serene, almost natural strut. Her swan-like neck arched down toward him, as she winked playfully.

“My name, Mr. Messy Mane, is Winding Sheets. And you’ve been a really bad pony. Do you what bad ponies need, Mr. Messy Mane?” asked Winding Sheets, a bit of a pout in her tone.

“A kiss?” asked Barding. He immediately puckered his lips and started to stand up, but to his surprise, he found a hoof on his shoulder. He saw her beautiful, dainty face drawing closer and closer.

Barding’s grin widened. He thrust his head forward and kissed thin air. Sheets, like a ballerina, had gracefully moved her head sideways. He had missed, but their heads were beside each other and she was so near him. He could see the dust and the detail on her maid outfit, smell her exotic, complex perfume, and feel her warm, measured breaths on his ear.

“Bad ponies need to be shown their place,” rasped Sheets. That was the only warning Barding got before she pushed him away and buried him with the entire pile of dirty rags.

“This is getting old!” groaned Barding, scrambling out from the pile of rags. Sheets was already trotting away, her tail swishing from side to side.

After the sun had set and cleaning of the house completed, dinner was silent and brief. Sheets had made a small salad from Barding’s limited stores, but when the two ate, Barding hadn’t said a word, completely engrossed in the food. He finished his meal quickly, thanked her, and then told her he would be using the bathroom upstairs in his tower.

Sheets wasn’t sure what brought this change. Barding had been pestering her nonstop the entire morning and afternoon, but suddenly he seemed to want solace. The break wasn’t something Sheets was going to question, so she returned to her room for some clothes and had a nice, long bath in Barding’s newly cleaned bathtub.

When Sheets came out again, clothed in a pink satin nightrobe, there was no sign of Barding on the ground floor or the second floor. Wondering where the stallion was, Sheets trotted to the tower and examined the door to it.

The single door, an old wooden thing, was heavily reinforced by strips of iron. Gently, Sheets turned the single brass knob and found the door was unlocked. Her curiosity drawing her onward, Sheets opened the door to reveal a dark set of stairs. An oil lamp was set on the bottom of the floor, with a dust ring indicating that its brother had been taken upstairs.

Sheets recalled Barding’s earlier order. She also remembered the serious tone in which he had given that statement. Normally, Sheets would just leave it at that. No courtesan wanted to annoy her client after all.

However, this wasn’t any normal job. As Scarlet told her, he was supposed to listen to her, not the other way around. Barding could order her however he wanted to, but she was going to find out just what was he so intent on hiding. Also, after the headaches he had given her the entire day, Sheets wanted to annoy him, at least just a little.

Using a flame spell, Sheets lit the oil lamp and began to ascend the stairs. It was a minute or so before she reached a small hatch. Opening it, Sheets stepped into the tower’s first room.

This room was a bathroom, which was rather filthy. Sheets groaned at the soap scum coating the brass bathtub and the dirty towels and laundry lumped to one side. Apart from the poor state of the bathroom, Sheets noticed nothing of particular interest, so she strode over the tiled floor to the staircase running up into the ceiling of the bathroom. Striding up the steps, Sheets paused for a moment before the final hatch before pushing it open.

As her head poked above the floor of the roof, Sheets found herself entranced. The room’s walls were filled with shelves that sagged under the weight of books, old scrolls, strangely shaped vials, pieces of metal, knickknacks, and other things which she did not know the name for. Each of these items were polished, in well-worn but otherwise in pristine condition. As a pony who liked rare, expensive objects, valuable books included, Sheets couldn’t help but find herself captivated by this treasure trove.

“What are you doing here?”

Sheets looked toward the centre of the room, which was taken up by a solidly built worktable that was considerably stained, scarred, and buried by notes, diagrams, and what looked like several samples of dead butterflies. Beyond the table, on a four-poster bed, was a shocked and rather flushed Barding, an empty wine bottle in his hoof.

“Oh, I was wondering where you were, Mr. Messy Mane. I didn’t realize you had such an interesting hideout,” said Sheets, trotting into the room.

“Uhhh, thank you… But, uhh… there’s nothing interesting here. Most of it’s mumbo-jumbo you wouldn’t even understand.” Barding chuckled, a weak and forced smile on his features. Sheets’s eyes narrowed very slightly at the strange, uncertain tone in Barding’s voice, but she didn’t think too much of it. She was too engrossed in skimming over the scrolls laid out on the table.

“Really Barding? This stuff is fascinating.”

Sheets wasn’t lying. She liked to think of herself as knowledgeable and well-read. Whenever she wasn’t attending balls, parties, or entertaining clients, Sheets liked to engross herself in a good book. It took her mind off things and she adored impressing ponies with her intelligence.

The work that was on the notes… Barding wasn’t lying when he said he was a mage. These were incredibly detailed spell diagrams with calculations that rivaled in complexity to some of Starswirl’s treatises. Sheets couldn’t understand most of them, but what she could understand amazed her with their innovation and skill.

“They’re just… failed experiments. Look, can you please leave, Sheets?” said Barding, his eyebrows knitting together.

Sheets barely heard Barding, so absorbed by the diagram on the page she was holding. It appeared to depict the formula and details regarding some sort of shield spell.

“Is this a shield spell? I have never seen something so complicated or so detailed. Why didn’t you show me this earlier, Mr. Messy Mane?” Sheets shot Barding a brief grin, honestly admiring her partner’s work.

Which was why Sheets was completely caught off-guard by a spinning book that nearly smacked her in the head.

Sheets bit back a scream as she spun around and backed away from an advancing Barding. His hooves thudded loudly against the wooden floor, his lips twisted in a snarl. His bright eyes were now dark, glowering, striking terror into the mare like a dark shadow.

But at the same time, these eyes arrested her in place.

Barding was crying. His teeth gnashed in anguish as tears poured down his face. His body trembled as if they were standing in a blizzard. He looked so dangerous, and yet at the same time, so… sad.

Something that was not a good thing, as Barding didn’t stop coming forward.

“Why didn’t I show you this earlier? Why didn’t I show you this earlier? Because it failed! I tried to save my friends, my fellow mages, my classmates for five years, and that spell failed because I messed it up! That’s why I didn’t show you earlier!”

Sheets eyes widened in shock, and she would have felt sympathetic, had Barding’s rage-filled eyes not shook her to the core.

“And what did I tell you about this tower? It’s forbidden! F-O-R-B-I-D-D-E-N. FORBIDDEN!” Barding’s snarl warped into a disdainful sneer that Sheets thought seemed to be directed to himself as well as her. “But oh no, you were too curious about what was in here, weren’t you? You had to look. Well, now you’ve seen it!”

It was then that Barding shut his eyes for a moment, before he leveled a glare so intense that Sheets took a step back.

“All that’s here is a fucking failure and the evidence to prove it. Now, get out of here before I throw you off the top of this tower!”

Sheets swallowed. She wanted to flee, to run away, but the last vestiges of her pride and her stubbornness refused to let her. With a supreme effort of control, she managed to relax her facial muscles, though her jaw remained clenched and her tail swished nervously. But she did not run. She had never ran from an angry client. She had soothed them, calmed them down, even dodged the odd blow, but she never fled. She would not run from this one.

So she curtsied, her head bowing low, her hooves crossing over one another as she bent down, and rose again. Barding continued to glare at her, but he remained motionless, except for the heavy exhale and inhale of his breathing.

“If that is your wish, Barding, then I will take my leave,” said Sheets softly. She then turned around and exited the room, leaving nearly as gracefully as she had entered it.

It was a front. It was all a bloody front. Sheets realized it as she stormed into her bedroom and locked the door, pushing her front hooves against them. There was a hoarse, rasping sound that continued to ring as she leaned against the wooden barrier and it took a moment before she realized it was her own breath.

The stallion was a bleeding wreck. How stupid was she to forget that this stallion was a trained war mage and that he had serious issues that even Scarlet, one of her contemporaries who was skilled in comforting stallions, could not help him with! His obnoxiousness, his stupid fake smile—it all made perfect, horrible sense now. He probably had been distracted by her, enraptured with her presence. So he had contented himself with going after her, projecting over-exaggerated confidence to try to gain her favor, but also to hide his own temper, his grief. All she had to do was push the right button and it would come out like a berserk dragon from its cave.

And she had nearly ended up as ashes.

Why in Celestia’s name did she accept this contract? Right, she had no choice. She needed that Golden Ticket. But now that she thought about it, perhaps it was a better idea to give up and leave Canterlot altogether. She had skills, she had money, and she had experience. She could rebuild her life somewhere else. Not Baltimare. Cloudsdale wasn’t an option. Manehattan appeared to be the most viable choice. Yes, that wasn’t a great plan, but it would have to do.

However, Sheets didn’t move for her yet-to-be-fully-unpacked suitcase. She put her hooves back on the floor and closed her eyes in an attempt to block out the image of Barding’s face, so filled with grief and anguish. It didn’t work, for she could not forget his sadness and rage.

Try as she might, Sheets couldn’t completely harden her heart to Barding’s plight or bring herself to leave. Her pride as the top courtesan in Canterlot demanded that she should at least try rehabilitating this stallion. Besides, she had never left an unsatisfied client, regardless of sexual contact, and she never ran from a contract, no matter how challenging it was.

Sheets pursed her lips contemplatively as she considered Barding’s actions during the day. This stallion… he wasn’t that bad. He was annoying, but he at least occasionally listened to her, unlike some other stallions. With the right push and enough effort, she could have him cleaned up, wrapped around her hoof, and add another benefactor to her list. One that would be completely loyal to her.

She did have to admit that she did feel sorry for Barding and that was not such a minor part in making her stay.

Shoving those thoughts aside,, Sheets made her decision and went to the bathroom to brush up for bed. The unicorn knew she had a long series of days ahead of her and she needed her beauty rest to tackle tomorrow’s challenge.

As soon as the hatch swung shut, Barding turned on his hooves, made his way to his bedside dresser, and opened the cabinet door. Inside was a bottle of wine, which he picked up with his hoof and, using his teeth, yanked the cork out. Lifting the bottle to his lips, Barding chugged the bottle of wine, not even bothering to taste the vintage.

He drank the alcohol too quickly and choked. Forced to shove the bottle on the table and bang on his chest, Barding glared at the night sky.

What Sheets hadn’t quite noticed in her brief purview of his quarters was his skylight—a square glass window on the side of his conical tower that let in the moonlight. It was through this window that he gazed.

For a long, silent moment, Barding was immersed in his own musings. Gradually the anger dissipated from his mind, leaving an empty, hollow feeling in his chest.

“Dangit Barding, you messed up again.” Barding groaned to himself. Picking up the wine bottle, Barding glared at the moon again. “A beautiful mare helps you clean your house, makes you dinner, was actually curious about what you did for a living, and you drive her out. You bleeding genius.” Barding took another drink from his bottle and slowly trotted to the narrow window of his tower.

“She’s probably gone. I nearly buried Clover’s Elemental Transfiguration Volume… whatsit in her head after all,” said Barding, watching the path from his manor home to his wall gate.

The path was empty. Barding blinked, rubbed his eyes, and stared at the path. Nopony was there. She hadn’t left. Why in Tartarus hadn’t she left? He had nearly gave her a concussion. In his fury, he had threatened to throw her off the top of his tower. The first mare would have galloped away screaming willy-nilly. The second mare probably would have wet herself. The third mare had called him a barbarian and left in a huff when he lost his temper.

This latest mare… she had to be leaving. She had to be packing… but if that was the case…

Barding surged to his hooves, feeling a bit light-headed as he ran toward the floor hatch. He tore down the stairs of his tower faster than he had ever done before. He ran back up the ground-floor stairs and paused in front of Sheets’s room, just to catch his breath. After he was ready to speak, Barding knocked on the door.

It took a moment, but the door opened to reveal Sheets, dressed in her pink, satin bedrobe. Now that he wasn’t focused on getting her out of his tower, Barding found himself eying how the robe clung to Sheets’s slender frame, showed off her long, elegant neck, and revealed just a bit of the soft fur on her chest.

“I’m sorry,” blurted Barding as he met Sheets’s eyes, only to avert them again.

He didn’t notice that Sheets’s eyes widened briefly in surprise before she narrowed them again. Sheets refrained from saying anything and her features remained calm and serene.

Taking her silence as a sign that he should continue, Barding swallowed and looked up again.

“You are… the most beautiful, most refined mare that has ever graced my manor and I have acted in a manner completely undeserving of your presence. I was… Barding bit his lip “An arse.”

Sheets arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I acted nothing like a noble should and you put up with me anyway. No mare has done that or given me even that chance. So… thank you.”

Sheets blinked. She hadn’t expected that from Barding, and she liked the fact that Barding was admitting his bad behaviour and apologizing for it. Still, the mare wanted an explanation for his earlier behaviour.

“You threw a book at my head,” said Sheets.

Barding paled, opened his mouth, and shut it tightly, the struggle clear in his features. He had lost his temper and nearly knocked his partner out. And the last few mares… he hadn’t exactly kept them out of danger either. But this mare… Winding Sheets. She wasn’t nicer to him, but she didn’t treat him like the others. She didn’t deserve to get hurt trying to help a lost cause like himself.

“I know and I don’t want you to leave, but…” Barding swallowed and looked Sheets in the eye.

“As you know, it’s not safe for you for you to be around me.” Barding closed his eyes and grit his teeth as he forced the words past the block in his throat. “So I won’t stop you.” The stallion’s head drooped to the floor, his eyes downcast as he waited for the inevitable pronouncement.

“Luckily for you, Mr. Messy Mane, I’ve always liked a challenge. So I am not going to leave you, yet.”

Barding’s head shot back up and he stared at Sheets in disbelief. This mare… She was going to stay with him? After all the crap he put her through? Despite the fact he very nearly injured her? Was this a cruel joke?

Yet, as Barding took in the beautifully coy smile and sparkling indigo eyes, he realized she wasn’t joking. This gorgeous mare… Winding Sheets… she really was going to try to help him. Barding wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had felt so relieved, and… happy.

“But if you don’t want to change my mind, don’t even think about sleeping in the same room as me,” added Sheets.

“Awww,” Barding said with a petulant groan.

Sheets giggled and began to close the door. “Good night, Mr. Messy Mane.”

Barding grinned. “Good night, my lady.”