It had been a long day in Celestia’s court. Many dozens of dignitaries sought her council—some local, such as the Crystal Empire, some foreign, such as Yakyakistan. All of their inquiries have been summarily settled.
Celestia knew that that was not the end of her court’s wait-list. For every three dignitaries she satisfied, it seemed, five more took their place on the list. To say nothing about the line that stood even now! She hadn’t enough room before her throne to see to them all; very usually the line would spill out the door and down the hallway.
But now was the end of the day. She had taken down her decorations in the sky, and Luna had adorned the heavens with her artwork. Night had begun, with her sister taking over court duties, and permitting Celestia the whole night long for her to unwind. Now what? she subvocalized, lost in a pensive mood, though in the halls of her castle she knew precisely where she was going.
To her bedroom.
Two Royal Guards flanked the outside of her bedroom door—one on each side. As she approached the door, they politely saluted—discipline demanded by their training. They stared forward, with empty expressions on their faces, as though they were carved from stone.
Celestia blushed slightly, and simply nodded her approval. Her telekinesis grabbed the door-handle from twelve feet away, and opened it for her, in anticipation of her arrival. Once she passed through the doorway, the same telekinesis shut the door behind her, then locked it—as an extra precaution, combined with the Guards, against unwanted visitors.
It was just as well—once inside her personal sánctum sánctórum, she promptly drew the drapes, so as to conceal anything that may be within her bedchambers—or, more appropriately, anything that may happen within her bedchambers. The stress of the events of this day in particular had left her quite drained. She had not had any personal satisfaction in a great long while.
Besides, that one from Appleloosa looked really hot, she thought.
But, first things first—she cast a soundproofing spell about the room. Now, nary a soul could have hoped to eavesdrop on the following chain of events, not even the guards posted outside the door—they would remain in ignorance of a nigh-unspeakable act.
That aside, she then laid herself upon the bed. She was completely alone, yet in her eyes, the Appaloosa dignitary had been by her side the entire time, and had just now “consented” to her intentions.
Then she proceeded to peel off her garments. First, her dress—a goldenrod-hue design that she wore for the first time today, now having served its purpose in preserving her dignity during the court. This tumbled to the ground, leaving most of her body bare, vulnerable to the elements. (Of nature, that is.)
Now all that was left was her bra—and her panties. With a seemingly rushed effort, the bra followed the dress to the floor. Pale-white breasts, those that had never, ironically, seen her sunlight, now stared up towards the ceiling of her bedchambers.
The panties then came off last of all—it remained on the bed with Celestia, hanging off of her right leg. She was now stark naked—and all the better, too; while it had been months since she last pleasured herself, she instinctively knew how to. And while contemporary subjects had a wide variety of tools to accomplish this, she resorted to an age-old method.
Without the slightest of hesitations, the first two fingers of her right hand slipped inside her labia. The forefinger brushed up against her clitoris, sending a cascade of great pleasurable sensation up her spine and from there throughout the rest of her body. She moaned—ever so slightly—as she started building up to an inevitable climax.
She may have been age-old, but she still knew how to activate her basil ganglia—all she needed was enough effort to tip her over the edge.
That same effort she now applied to her vagina. In, out, and all about—that did not seem to be enough. With her left hand, she took her corresponding breast and squeezed it tightly—that, too, sent pleasurable sensations through her body, triggering more moaning.
In her mind though, it was not her fingers, but the dignitary’s shaft, inside her sheath. Likewise, it was not her hand, but the dignitary’s hand, that was tightly gripping her breast. She was in full submission to him, to herself—to her pleasures.
Her moaning was growing stronger, more pronounced—almost grunting, as she tried to bring a happy ending to a dull day. She was so close to the end—Come on, body! she thought, though she almost said this aloud. What’s the holdup?
With this combination of two pleasures, her body could tolerate this teasing no longer. A fountain of fluids erupted from her nethers, as her moaning changed to rapid panting. Her left hand detached from her breast, her fingers slipped out of her vagina, and her imaginary partner was forgotten.
Meanwhile, outside the bedroom, the Guards noted that all was calm and orderly at this hour. Their ears picked up a few sounds, though these were routine. To their right—the familiar faint clip-clop of steel horseshoes against marble, as a lone Guard patrolled that hallway. To their left—muted mumbling, as Princess Luna was engaged in conversation with a dignitary.
After the afterglow had faded away, she pulled on her panties, using her telekinesis to pull the covers away from her bed, anticipating another paradise—that of Hypnos.
Beep-beep.
She paused.
With a sound of fingers snapping, something disappeared from the top of her dresser.
Celestia instinctively brought the covers up to cover her bare breasts, then looked over to the dresser. Everything seemed to be in order—so what was there before?
Then it dawned on her, her eyes widening in surprise, before she buried her face into her palm. Only one being would be so insane as to record her pleasuring herself (no doubt it would be leaked to the public).
Discord.
