Fifty Shades of Brad
by D. G. D. Davidson
Twilight Sparkle’s heart pounded in anticipation. It was almost time. Soon, he would come back for her, the man she loved, the man who had mastered her. Yearning for him, she strained against the rope with which he had tied her, but it held fast.
She heard footfalls. They were soft, but confident and sure. She raised her head and pricked her ears forward. Her nostrils twitched. Yes, it was him. It had to be. Her heart missed a beat as it bruised itself against her ribs.
At last, he appeared in the doorway, his broad shoulders framed in the streaming sunlight. The light struck his bright blue hair and caused it to glow as if he had a wild and brilliant halo. He offered her his lopsided grin, and her knees went weak. She ducked her head and nickered softly.
Brad. She wanted to whisper his name, but the sound wouldn’t come. He was dressed in a dapper shadbelly, tight-fitting breeches that emphasized the trim muscularity of his well-shaped legs, and knee-high boots. Great Celestia, how Twilight loved knee-high boots!
“I’ve got something for you,” he said, and her heart raced even more madly. He walked toward her with his easy, lackadaisical pace, driving her wild. Come here, she thought at him. Come here right now and give me what I want.
But she didn’t say the words aloud: after all, he was her master.
He reached her, and she stretched her neck to nuzzle his face. She could smell the sweet spices in his hair oil and aftershave. He laughed, rubbed her muzzle, and held out the gift he’d promised.
It was a carrot. Greedily, she clamped her teeth around it and munched. She loved taking food out of his hand, because his heady, musky scent filled her nose and calmed her as she ate.
She was still enjoying the carrot’s succulent crunch when he stepped up close, and she felt the tingling touch of his dandy brush against her shoulder. Her ears flopped and her lips twitched as Brad brushed her all over her body: his strokes were self-assured and manful, yet at the same time so gentle, taking care to follow the direction in which her hair grew. All the while, he spoke to her—evenly, quietly, soothingly. Her heart finally slowed, and she merely rested in the calm of his presence. Just once, she started as the brush’s hard bristles tickled her sensitive underbelly, but he calmed her again by running his hand along her back.
With her body brush, he combed out her mane. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she dared to shuffle just a little closer to him.
“That’s a good girl,” he said as he rubbed one of her ears. He brushed her face, his soulful eyes gazing into hers. She yearned to speak to him, to tell him just how much she loved him, but again her tongue wouldn’t make the sounds.
Brad. She simply let the name run through her mind over and over as she contemplated its solitary yet achingly beautiful syllable.
Running his hand along her side, he moved behind her and brushed out her tail. She closed her eyes and whinnied softly.
When he was finished brushing, he made her heart pound again by leaning into her left shoulder and sliding his hand down the back of her leg. After he picked up her hoof, he cleaned it out with a hoof pick.
He did the same with the rest of her hooves, and then he took a coarse white numdah and laid it over her back. She licked her lips, knowing what came next: he was going to dress her the way he always did whenever he used her.
He laid on her saddle and began to buckle her girth. She liked being groomed, but the feel of the saddle’s girth going around her barrel always made her a little angry, so she bit at the air. But he gave her a reassuring pat, and that calmed her back down.
Finally, he slipped her reins over her neck and, pressed against her neck with one hand over her muzzle, unfastened her halter. She obediently lowered her head to help him as he pulled her bridle’s crownpiece over her ears, and she opened her mouth to take the snaffle bit in her bars. He buckled her noseband, and she waited while he checked to make sure it wasn’t too tight.
Finally, he fastened her throatlatch, took her reins, and led her out of the stable into the sunlight. Her heart soared; she wanted to run. She knew that she and he would ride down rocky trails, pause by babbling brooks, feel the hot sun pouring down on them through the forest leaves. When he let her rest, she would nibble lush grass and bright flowers in a calm meadow, and she would drink from dark pools. He would be there all the while, his every touch and every movement telling her where to go and how to walk.
She would sense things that would startle her, she knew. She would be aware; she would listen, see, and smell everything along the trail. Attuned to her as she was to him, he would know through her all that she detected, but he would decide, and she would obey. Together, when they rode, they were like one being—she the quick and strong body, he the mind.
It was evening when he led her back to the stables, and the high, feathery clouds were pink and lavender in the dome of the sky. Anticipating the removal of her saddle and a good roll in the grass, Twilight had wanted to run the last mile home, but Brad had restrained her with only the slightest movement of his hands.
At last, they entered the paddock, and he led her to the washing area to remove her tack. Once he had her undressed, he used a sweat scraper to take the perspiration from her coat, and then he brushed her again, praising her all the while.
After having worn a saddle for hours, it felt wonderful to roll. She tossed back and forth in the grass, letting the ground take the tension from her shoulders. Brad leaned against a fence and watched her for a while, but then he at last put her halter on again and led her inside to her stall. Before he left, he kissed her on her nose, and he let her eat an apple from his hand.
By now, the sun was low, and it was growing dark. Brad was gone, and Twilight could feel the pang of his absence in her chest—but it was all right, because she had pony friends at the stables, and she knew she would see Brad again tomorrow.
Just once, some weeks ago, Brad had brought a mirror so he could examine himself in his riding clothes and see how he looked with Twilight in her tack. She had caught a glimpse of herself and had thought it strange how different she looked. She dimly remembered a time, long ago, when her coat had been violet instead of bay. She thought perhaps that, once, she had a horn and even wings—or perhaps that was only a dream.
A few days ago, she had a moment of panic when she realized she could no longer remember pi out to thirty digits. Now she no longer remembered what pi was: it was just something she used to think was important, something that had become for her only a word. There were other words just like it in her head, words that had once mattered but no longer did: words like Equestria, princess, science, magic. The list grew shorter every day. Perhaps she was forgetting. Perhaps she had never known.
It seemed her love for Brad had once been different, too. Stronger somehow. Deeper.
But that was silly: he scratched her, fed her, and soothed her with his voice. He kept her contented and safe, and she did everything he wanted. What love could be deeper than that?
She sometimes dreamt that she had in some distant past led a greater life full of knowledge that could no longer move her mind and passions that could no longer move her breast, a life full of things beyond her comprehension.
But that made no sense, of course. Nothing higher than this could be possible: she couldn’t imagine it, for what could such a life possibly look like?
Surely it was just a silly dream.
