Her Most Faithful Servant

Dear Princess Celestia,

I'm a little shaken after today's lesson. I know that was exactly the point…but still. Today, you taught me aftercare and we did this in two parts. In your room. On your bed.

To begin, you told me that you were going to demonstrate an important concept called ‘aftercare,’ and to do so you would have to hurt me. I was confused, but I said okay. I remember thinking, ‘Is this were the whips and chains come out?’ But, I was wrong. Dead wrong. I don’t think you could have prepared me for what you were going to do.

I watched you take a deep breath and close your eyes for a moment, like you were centering yourself. Then, when you opened your eyes, you glared me down with a vicious, violent gaze. I was immediately off-guard from the sudden change. You leaned in towards me with a malevolent smile. You asked me to tell you what it was like to be gone from all of my friends and loved ones back on Earth, permanently.

Except, you wouldn’t let me answer. The minute I winced in pain, you rounded on me. Your tone was filled with acid, but you were so calm and your voice came out soft and silky like poisoned honey. Every time I backed away, you moved closer to me, not allowing me to retreat. You told me how betrayed they probably all felt that I’d vanished so suddenly. That they thought I’d just walked out the door one day and had never come back, without even a word of explanation. My friends had probably all moved on by now. My work probably didn’t even notice. I stopped trying to move away or speak, too caught up in the force of your words, and sat numbly staring at the floor. It was like being hypnotized or watching a train crash and being unable to cover my eyes.

But, that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the finishing blow. The fear that I’ve dreamed about and cried over during my first few months in Equestria, but never allowed myself to say out loud. Something I’ve kept locked away and didn’t tell anybody. You told me, with a simple dark smile, that my friends and family probably hated me for abandoning them. That I’d hurt them, that they couldn’t find a way to forgive me for leaving them worried and confused. All because I came to this stupid, stupid world. And that I would never be able to tell them that I was sorry.

I was broken. I couldn’t think anymore. My muscles burned, and my lungs felt sore just trying to breathe in and out. I wanted to curl into a ball and hide away from the world, to stop existing. I didn’t feel like scum. I -was- scum. I knew that I had been and always would be scum. I wanted to say sorry, to make it up to all of them, but I knew that I couldn’t. And I knew they’d hate me for it. Tears pooled in my eyes, ran down my face in crooked streams, and dripped onto your sheets.

However, right as I felt that I was nothing more than a burden on the face of this tainted patch of dirt, that I was worthless and horrible, I felt your wings wrap around me and pull me close, like a blanket. Your gentle voice assured me none of that was true. That I knew it wasn’t true, that my friends and family loved me and could never hate me. That you were here for me and it was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay. And I believed you. The negativity slowly escaped my system as I buried my face deep into your soft, warm fur. I have no idea how long I needed, but neither of us tracked the time.

Once I stopped crying and began to feel like myself again, I sat up straight. You gently explained to me that what you did to soothe me was called aftercare. It was to ensure that I felt safe and could let go in an environment I felt comfortable in. The pieces quickly clicked in my head. The gentle words, your embrace, and how personal the whole experience felt helped me let go and feel protected even though you’d made me so vulnerable. In a way, it felt nurturing.

It was fantastic. I could see where aftercare would be important after a really vicious scene like that. However, when you told me that it was my turn, I was really confused. You sighed and gave me a wary smile. It was my turn to tear you down and practice aftercare.

I was shocked. What could I possibly say to destroy you, a Princess? How could I do that to you? Especially knowing how it made me feel. I didn’t want to hurt you. I told you I couldn’t do it, that I couldn’t hurt you. You reassured me and said that this would be the only time I had to do it, and that you would be okay. I sighed and looked down at my hands. I was worried about what sort knife I’d be driving into your chest, but I wanted to prove I could do this. Not just to you, but to myself. Shaking my head, I set my mind to work.

I thought carefully about what I could say and one idea stuck out in my mind. You’d existed for thousands of years. A normal pony’s lifetime was much, much shorter than that. Which meant…you had probably lost someone who was special to you before. Many times. So, I decided to target that.

I had to take a few moments to prepare my little speech. Even as I went over my plan, I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. Hurting you like this just felt wrong, but I sighed and shifted into topspace. The confidence swelled within me, and I asked what it was like to see so many ponies come and go over the years. I saw you blink. I asked how well you knew some of them, how many of them enjoyed your company, and how many you dearly missed. I saw a muscle twitch in your brow, but there was hardly a reaction. Then, I asked, how many of them you could have saved. That was when your posture faltered, shoulders slumped and the tension left your muscles. How many of them could you have done more for? You looked down for a moment, but then you sat up straight again, fighting back in your own head. I couldn’t have that. I needed to strike, and strike hard. I looked around the room, trying to find another means to get under your skin. I guessed there was a loved one you could have saved. Maybe, a stallion you’d lost and would never get back? Your head tilted down in minor defeat, but I knew I wasn’t done yet. Then, my eyes fixated on picture of you and your sister as fillies. The words popped into my head instantly. So I said them.

“And the only pony who could understand how you felt? The only pony who could listen and try to help you? You drove her away,” I said, my words loaded with bile.

The change was immediate. I watched as your eyes went glassy, and I could tell that you were a million miles away. Your lips quivered, and I knew the deed was done. I’d broken some part of you.

“Nicely done,” you said distantly, trying your best to hold a proud smile.

And I hated myself for what I had said. I moved over and wrapped my arms around you and held you close to me. I whispered that it was okay. That Luna was here and happy now. Everything was okay. You held me tighter and I felt like there should be something else for me to do. Something that was missing. On the bed, I saw a few extra blankets, and it made me think of your wing-hug. So, I wrapped a blanket around you with one arm and held you close. After a tense moment of hating myself, the shaking stopped and you sat up straight again, mostly back to yourself. I’m still not sure if it was you or me that was shaking. You told me that I’d done a good job with the aftercare and I was a bit relieved.

Your final question was: Did I get enjoyment out of hurting you? My immediate answer was ‘No’. Watching you hurt did nothing for me. However, performing aftercare was nice. Feeling like I was someone’s rock to lean on was a great sensation of power. I was happy to be that rock for you. I wouldn’t mind feeling that strength more often.

You asked me if I figured out what else we learned through today’s exercise. I wasn’t sure what you meant, so you kindly explained. Since I didn’t enjoy hurting you, we learned that I wasn’t a pure sadist. I took a breath of fresh air in relief, but at the same time, I was concerned. Some ponies enjoy that? That gets some people off? How could jamming a finger into a deep wound be enjoyable to someone? I can’t understand that. I suppose, that’s not inherently a bad thing. You seemed relieved I wasn’t a sadist, but I’m sure there are masochists out there that love to be destroyed emotionally or physically. I just can’t do that.

The power aspect though…that definitely did something for me. So that would make me more like a dom, right? I wonder if the love of power and control has the same appeal for you, or if it’s something else that really gets you going.

The things I need to remember aftercare are: 1) Keep it personal. If it's not personal and doesn't resonate with who is being cared for, then the experience will suffer for it. Meaning every word you say is also vital to building trust between a dom and sub. Not that I’d lie to you. 2) You need to create a bubble of support and safety. This is often done with hugs and other physical contact, but blankets do well too.

Actually, hell with it. All the blankets. All the time. Blankets are cool. Heh. On a serious note, I really see the importance of aftercare. The scene certainly brought back... memories, but I feel good now. I’m excited for what tomorrow may bring.

Your Ever Faithful Student,
Anon