A Night-time Bath
You are the personal servant of the goddess of the moon, Princess Luna. Her outward grace and love of tradition commands respect from both you and the general population, and you serve with honour. Your post is your life, and your life is nothing without her. Some might call that love, but you call it duty.
Your duties for the past few days, however, have been thin. Your mistress has been away dealing with dragon dignitaries in a doomed dwelling and is flying back—on a first-class pegasus carriage, no less—to Canterlot as we speak. In fact, you see her now, just curving over the distant horizon. Pegasi are fast, and before you know it the carriage is setting down in front of you.
She steps down onto the landing pad, and you kneel before your princess. You convey your worries and concerns as concisely as you can, while asking how fruitful her journey had been. The winds blow around you and the pegasus guards stand tall and proud.
"We consider it a success, the dragons were very agreeable," she says, allowing you to take one of her hooves in your hand and deliver a respectful kiss. "However, the hour is early and we desire to retire."
She was correct, the sun was already starting to peek from the distant mountains and Celestia would soon be taking over the kingdom for the remainder of the day. You grab the few items Luna saw fit to take on her diplomatic mission and carry them as the two of you retire to Luna's tower.
"No," Luna instructs as soon as you reach your destination and begin to unpack her things for a full reintegration with her housing, "We are too tired for such activities. Please run us a bath, subject."
You comply, of course, and walk the short distance to the castle's bathroom. The twin taps are easy to adjust and soon you have a flow of water at her majesty's favourite temperature. Additionally, you slip a few oils and scents into the turmoil to give the bath the perfect atmosphere and make it more relaxing.
The bathtub will take several minutes to fill, even with the finest taps Canterlot has ever produced, and to fill the time you ask whether Luna would enjoy a drink, or perhaps a quick snack?
"Certainly, we would most enjoy some tea." She smiles and nods her head as she speaks. Her cold and impenetrable exterior often falls away when she's only in your company, and over the many moons you've been serving her the two of you have gotten to know each other quite well. You know how hot she likes her bathwater, and she knows that you enjoy staring at her flank. You don't know she knows that, though, so your relationship isn't perfect.
A quick snack is easy to procure, and momentarily you're exiting the kitchen with a small bowl of grain and raisins, the perfect snack for everything from a princess to a pauper. She wordlessly smiles as you hand her the bowl and takes a few restrained bites.
You check on the bathroom, and find the bathwater close to overflowing. The taps are quickly extinguished, and the princess is similarly summoned. "It smells wonderful," she says, complimenting your handiwork, and holds out her hoof to aid the removal of her clothes.
The princess's regalia is old—ancient metal wrought from magic and chaos, emblazoned by the mark of the moon and enchanted with more power than most unicorns would ever know. It also slips off of her body staggeringly easily. Within moments, her four shoes lie in the corner of the bathroom.
The brace around her neck is more problematic. While she awkwardly stands there, shuffling on her hooves due to the unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation of allowing her feet to directly touch the cold marble floor, you stand in front of her and place both hands around the ceremonial clothing. With a great effort, you lift it. She shifts her head and leans forward to make it easier on you, and ends up accidentally brushing her cheek against your chest—instantly reminding you of all the errant thoughts and misplaced fantasies you've ever had of the gorgeous goddess. What use is the dominator of dreams if she cannot take part in them?
Regardless, her armour is off and her bath is ready. She awkwardly walks over and dips a hoof in the steaming water, pulling back momentarily as the blazing heat surprises her. "We do not envy my sister's resistance to heat," she reveals, "We do so love the sensation."
You watch her slowly clamber in and lower herself into the water. The liquid rises up around her as she descends, finding equilibrium as the water flows into the hole directly under the tap—the bath had been overfilled, but Luna did not seem to mind.
As you watch her relax in the hot water, you realise how distracted you are becoming, and excuse yourself, making for the door with haste lest you begin to worry about your own self-control.
"Ahem!" she interrupts, "We have been poorly tended to for quite some time. We would appreciate it if you would rectify this."
You turn and bow, before walking back towards her and asking if there's anything specifically she would particularly enjoy.
"We have spent the past several days explaining what it is we desire, and have no wish to continue. Please, use your own judgement," she says, leaning backwards into the water and closing her eyes. She would look almost comical were the sight not so fascinating. Her legs shot from her torso straight up, and she rolled slightly from side to side as the water flowed and shifted around her. Her mane, usually so ethereal and untouchable, has become waterlogged and completely corporeal. Without her customary attire, she looks downright naked. Absurd, you realise, as her clothing covers little, but the sense still remained.
You kneel at the side of the bath and run a hand through her mane. "You have a wonderful mane, princess," you comment while reaching for the nearby brush. Her hair is almost impossible to clean while it floats freely in the air, so this is one of very few chances you get.
A few dozen careful strokes later, her mane is both soaking wet, straightened, and clean. You drape it over the side of the bath to give it a head-start drying, and think on your next move.
Quickly coming to a decision, you take one of the bottles of scented oil and pour a small load into one of your hands, rubbing it with the other to spread the liquid. Immediately afterwards, you place your hands on the back of her neck and begin to massage.
She gives an approving sigh as your fingers begin to rub. You aren't a trained masseuse, far from it, but nor is Luna a regular attendee at any spa. You continue to rub, knocking the various grimes and mucks from her coat and replacing it with sweet smelling oils—tonight's choice was lavender.
After finishing on her neck, you ask her if she'd be so kind as to turn over. She complies, rotating until her back is accessible just above the surface of the water. Her head rests comfortably on the side of the bath.
You grab a little more oil and dive in, rubbing down along her back and sides, both to clean and relax her. As you work, you casually ask about her trip.
"Oh, it went acceptably," she quietly replies, keeping her eyes closed and her head steady, "we managed to convince the ruling cast that the trade agree—ooh, yes, continue that—agreement was in both of our interests, and- Mmmm..."
She trails off as your rubbing and lathering reaches her wings. Her upper body is covered in a thick layer of foam, almost making her look closer to Celestia than herself. When your washing finally passes her wings—which look quite ridiculous splayed out by her sides smothered in white bubbles—she seems to have forgotten what she was talking about, and you don't bring it back up.
You stop just before you reach her cutie marks, and ask if she would kindly turn back over. Before she has a chance to respond, you wash the lather off with a few quick strokes of water and a bit of careful rubbing. When you're done, she flips, slowly turning over and sending a little water splashing over the side, soaking your clothing through.
"Oh, we apologise for our poorly thought out action!" she exclaims, though her voice is halfway between serious and mocking. You assure her it's no bother, and move to grab a small cloth to aid in your cleaning.
As you pull it back, you accidentally brush against her horn, and she giggles. The princess of the night, a millennia old ruler who could command armies innumerable and the forces of darkness itself, giggling.
You ignore her and begin to rub along her chest with your lotion-soaked towelette, running up a sizeable foam and removing all the imperfections from her gorgeous coat. Again, you stop just below her stomach, and move a little bit further up as if your first pass hadn't been enough. You carefully watch her face as your cloth scratches against her belly, and see her relax and let her lips part ever so slightly to let out a tiny sigh.
She seems to enjoy it, so you carry on, rubbing away until the very edge of plausible deniability where you'd lose the chance to say "I was just making sure you were clean". Reluctantly, you shift your attentions away and begin to scrub along one of her hindlegs, lathering it up as you work your way down. Bubbles and foam flow around your hand as you feel around her leg, and soon the whole thing is slick and soapy, and you can't quite tell what's been washed and what hasn't.
You don't mean to go too low, but due to the slippery nature of soaped up hair you slip at the last second and end up scrubbing right down to her torso, where her inner thigh meets her body.
She squeaks in response and her eyes open. "What do you think you're doing?"
You smile and apologise. She's very slippery and you meant nothing by it.
She seems almost disappointed, but placated, and allows you to begin afresh on her other leg. You follow much the same pattern, rubbing and twisting and lathering and cleaning, and at the end...
The same thing happens, much as you tried to stop it. Worse, in your efforts to rectify your error and stop your hand from slapping her yet again, you lose your footing and tumble straight into the bath.
A few moments of thrashing and spluttering later, you find yourself floating in the air, staring directly at Luna as she holds you in a magic grip. "We are not amused," she flatly states with a harsh glare. A tense and worrying moment later, her face loosens up and she continues, "your clothing was acquired at great expense, and now it is wet. Come, remove it immediately."
You awkwardly strip, still quite tightly held up into the air, and throw your clothes to the dry floor at the end of the room. As soon as you're completely naked, Luna's grip slips and you tumble back into the bathtub with a tremendous splash.
"We say! You are making quite a mess. This behaviour is unacceptable, and will require more than mere cleaning as an apology!"
You give her your best double-entendres and thinly-veiled euphemisms, but to no avail. She simply looks down at you and brushes against your face with a hoof.
"We think we have been acquainted for long enough we can dispense with the games, can we not? I am tired, and you know very well what I want." Luna can be very blunt when she wants to be. Looks like the hot water isn't the only thing getting steamy.
Of course, you're no stranger to pleasuring a pony, but... where do you start?
You reach below yourself and give her cutie mark a quick nip. You'd slap her, but there's water in the way. She squeaks, but doesn't protest—your theory was right. As much as Luna loves to be in control, playing second fiddle to her sister for so long may have given her a little bit of a submissive streak.
Regardless, her wish, your command, blah blah blah. You reach down with your other hand and feel between her hindlegs, running your finger all along her submerged coat and impressively aroused vagina. How you hadn't noticed it before you weren't sure—not looking, probably. Now that you are it's as clear as day how much she's been wanting it, and you're only too happy to please.
You stroke along her, trailing a few fingers along her lips, teasing them. There's no point in taking things too quickly, after all. The question is, how slow do you take it?
You carefully slip a finger inside. Not too deep, just enough so that she can feel it. You hear a sharp intake of breath as you penetrate, and watch her face break into a blush as your finger shifts around inside of her.
"C- continue," she whispers, widening her legs and opening herself to you completely. Not very princess-like. You don't care.
Using your other hand, you push yourself down the bath and her up it until you have a full view of her private behind, refracted through the sweet-smelling water. You slip another finger between her folds, distracting her for long enough to press the forefinger of your other hand against her anus and begin to slide it around.
She coos, releasing a happy sigh and wiggling from side to side as she shifts to get more comfortable. You're still not doing very much to her, but she seems to be enjoying it anyway. Her cheeks are flushed red and her breathing is much heavier—this isn't the princess the population sees.
You push your fingers inside and tease around inside of her, providing a perfect backdrop of pleasure to slide your other finger between her tight ring. For a few moments you do nothing but tease both holes, not doing enough to really overwhelm her but not doing so little she gets bored.
Her expression grows more and more desperate as time goes by and your fingers still relentlessly tease, refusing to grow stronger or faster. In an act of desperation, Luna pulls the plug and lets the steamy scented water flow down, replacing the plug once her slightly puffy pink slit is clear. Her message is wordless, but clear, and you agree.
Leaning down, you place your lips against hers and hear her sharp intake of breath. Again with the teasing, you let your tongue slowly scrape against the very tip of her lips, never penetrating and never licking too strongly.
Eventually that proves to not be enough for either of you, and you push your tongue a little further inside. She tastes gorgeous. Even her vaginal fluid is perfection—that's what you get for sleeping with a goddess, you suppose.
Abandoning your pretence of teasing, you dive in and lick more deeply, pressing your lips against hers and kissing her deeply and passionately. She looses a quick moan up above as soon as your tongue begins, and every other lick is punctuated by an "Ah!" or an "Ooh!", depending on her mood.
You sense that if you carried on, you could probably satisfy her with this alone, but they say variety is the spice of life, so...
Your two hands are free, so you make use of them. Her anus is still partially submerged, and the water is still soapy, giving you plenty of lubrication to slip a finger inside. She's tight, and your finger has difficulty feeling around even with the lubrication, but you disregard that and carry on. Her gasps and moans continue above you, growing in both frequency and volume. You're glad Luna lives in a tower far away from any other ponies, because she's a screamer.
Your finger gives you an idea, and you quickly pull out and pull away. "What are you doing?" she asks, suddenly feeling cold and lonely. You tell her to turn over and give her a quick slap on the side of her ass, hoping to Celestia you're right about her submissive streak.
You are—she blushes and starts to turn without a word, eventually ending up on her knees in front of you. She's a big little pony, and from that position her body is in just about the perfect position for you to slide your penis between her parted, slick lips.
Which only makes it a little more awkward to choose the other hole. She gasps as the tip of your cock presses against her ring, but her protests are silenced by a sharp squeeze to her flank and she doesn't complain. Gritting your teeth, you push forward, feeling her slick anus reluctantly spread to accommodate your girth, squeezing into it with all its might in a pointless attempt to stop you.
Luna screams, a scream born of pleasure and pain in equal measure. The walls almost rattle at her shout, and you redouble your efforts, steadily pushing yourself in. Finally, you feel her squishy dark ass against your skin, and the ring of her sphincter squeezing against the bottom of your shaft.
Slowly, you begin to pull out, feeling every inch. Hearing it too; Luna lets out a long drawling groan as you leave her. When you finally exit, she's left there panting and weak limbed.
"P- please, more."
Doing your princess' bidding, you grasp both sides of her ass and steady yourself. You grit your teeth, steel your mind, and plunge. The second penetration is easier—her hole is still widened from the first attempt, and your second slides in much more smoothly, though she still contracts around you more tightly than you could ever have hoped for.
Holding yourself tightly against her, you increase your tempo, starting with slow and consistent strokes and slowly moving up from there. Eventually, you're hilting yourself in under two seconds and slamming into her flesh hard enough to cause ripples. The squelch of skin hitting waterlogged hair fills the room, temporarily drowning out even Luna's moans and screams of pleasure as your strokes drive her wild.
To mix things up a little, you add a light slap to your routine, slamming your open palm against her side every couple of pounds and causing groans and gasps of pained ecstasy from the pleasured mare. The inevitable musk from your savage rutting begins to appear as an undercurrent to the classy perfumes and expensive scents—a perfect metaphor for the perfect and reserved princess devolving into a lust-driven slut in front of you.
"Pl- please!" she begs during the short times she can gather enough concentration to speak, begging you for more. Harder, faster. More. You continue pounding away, hearing her moans echo around the room and feeling your body begin to tense and shiver as you grow closer to orgasm.
Though you try your best to hold on, it was hopeless. With a grunt, you clutch at her and pull yourself in, hilting yourself and closing your eyes as you cum. Streams of semen shoot out inside of her, and she lets out yet another delighted scream as she feels the heat spreading throughout her body. You cum again and again, holding yourself in as you fill her with your seed, until finally you're spent. You pull back, slipping yourself out, and gaze upon your handiwork.
Her anus is noticably more open, with a few small drips of your cum already starting to tumble out—she's filled to the brim. Her face is pressed against the bathtub, panting and drooling and not quite all there, as if she was lost in her own little world.
On the upside, her back was very clean.
Eventually, she recovered enough to talk. "Please, more," she whispers, barely lifting her head from the bathtub surface.
No, she's got that submissive streak, and you're going to use it. If she wants it, you tell her, she'll have to ask a bit nicer than that.
"Please, subject! We implore you!" she cries. You respond with nothing but a sharp slap to the ass, causing her to shout out in pain. Without her crown, what sort of princess is she, exactly? You tell her to tell you.
"Of the night," she whispers. Another slap. Would the princess of the night be presenting in front of some common servant, begging for him to pleasure her?
"N- no," she admits. "Please, I beg you. I need it so much. Please."
That's more like it. You can tell from the slick wetness down below that she's close, it won't take much to take her over the edge so you'd better make use of what you've got. With a few fingers from each hand, you pull her lips apart and push your tongue between them, savouring her taste and not particularly minding the small stream of semen dripping down from her slowly closing anus.
You lick, lap, suck and kiss, all while grasping her behind as tightly as you can and keeping her in her place, both literally and metaphorically. She grunts and groans, screaming out in an ungoddesslike throaty yell as your tongue hits new depths and new places. Her entire body convulses every time you so much as go near her clitoris, and you're fairly sure that the slightest touch would send her over the edge into orgasm.
You wrap your lips around her clit and begin to suck, whipping your tongue against it and running your lips over it. Her body collapses under the pleasure, and she screams until her voice simply peters out. Her wings flare and her slit begins to convulse, milking an imaginary penis for all it could have been worth. She's spent, completely so. The goddess Luna lies before you as a soaking, pleasured and cum-filled husk with a happy faraway grin oh her face and without a care in the world.
When she comes to, it will be early morning, and she'll quickly make her way to bed, like always. Unlike always, you'll be joining her.
