Hunting Season

Twilight, in a blissful post-orgasmic daze, stumbled into her room from the teleport, and checked the crotch of her skin-tight pants. Yep. Those were gushers, all right. "I… wow. Well, the girls did know I was visiting Celestia," she said with a weak laugh, wobbling her jiggly way over to the bed. "Glad the party isn't for a few hours." Fingers trembling, she unzipped her jeans, and began to peel them off over her giant hips, only to stop when realization struck. Laughing, she stopped, zipped up a bit so the damp pants couldn't fall further, and started to untie her sneakers.

"Checklist! I need a big, fat, large type checklist on the wall 'So You Have Just Been Brainfucked By Celestia' starting with 'Praise Harmony' but definitely including 'Shoes Off'," Twilight muttered to herself as she took hers off, carefully arranged the laces, and tucked them neatly under the bed. She shook her head, trying to clear some of the haze, and added, "Before jeans." Twilight stripped off her jeans, checked them carefully, and shook her head. "Laundry, I think, not the spell this time. Better be sure." There was nothing she could do with herself that was even within visual range of what Celestia could do to her. She folded up her dirty jeans and put them in the laundry basket, precisely placing them in the corner of the otherwise empty basket..

"Mustn't waste space," Twilight stripped her panties off efficiently. She took a long sniff of her own juices and licked her lips at the strong musk. "I wish I could give that sort of gift to my girls," she said softly, eyes misting. "Rares and Shy would love it! Maybe even get Pinkie to finally…" She grunted a bit, biting down on regret and locking onto hope. "Well, that's going to be Hopper's job, soon, and welcome to it." Twilight slapped her prodigious ass with satisfaction, leaving her hand on the bared hide of the curve to feel it jiggle. "Twilight Sparkle," she told her mirror, as her wings flexed, "You have pleased your princess. Going to go to Disneigh Land?"

Laughing, Twilight sat heavily on her bed, wriggling her tail and rear around with satisfaction. She wasn't ready to clean up yet, nope; her stiff clitty was saying, "Play with me, or I will be embarrassing you in front of Hopper!" in slightly less verbose terms. Twilight looked slyly around the room a bit. No time to really give one of the others the sharp topping they deserved before getting me over. Besides, this moment is mine, and mine alone.

I have some new books…. She rubbed her hand slowly over her needy muff, then shook her head. "Don't want to risk staining," she said out loud, and then laughed at herself yet again. "I'm being a silly filly," she told herself with a playful wink at the mirror. She scooted onto the corner of the bed closest to the mirror. Checked her big ol' chest out; yep, nips shoving up nice and hard to bracket her shirt's catchphrase.

Slowly Twilight ran her thick fingers over her damp pussy. "For you, Celestia, my love. I just wish …" Twilight whimpered, and put her other fist in her mouth. We're working on it! Twilight reminded herself angrily, and focused more on what she'd had, not what she was missing.

It fooled the ache, if just for a while. Her skilled fingers quickened, her throbbing clit responded, and Twilight remembered, mind travelling back three years to her favorite reward. If the simple facts of her memory was spliced with the glorious knowledge and silly thoughts Celestia had shared after, she found it all the sweeter.

It couldn't be the real throne room, of course. Not for this. No matter how much they both wanted to show the absolute depth of their love, both mares knew it would throw off so much well built social engineering towards social equality.

Instead, Twilight held herself rigidly, down on her knees in a small room, off and down past any number of chambers that were tended by servants only on express command. It held a throne; just one. No one else was held high here; just Celestia. Just Mistress Sun. Twilight's errant wings flexed slightly when her intense arousal slipped her will's grip, and her face burned with shame at her lack of self-control. She could just imagine the look on Celestia's face. I just got here! Twilight wailed mentally. It's been longer between her gifts to me, before!

Twilight was on her knees as was proper, yes, but truly, on all fours. Her heavy fists, so small before her mistress' were forward on the ground in front of her, arms bent at precise angles to Mistress Sun's specifications. She wasn't permitted to show off with a flex, either. Not her imperfect, wimpy sixty-inch peaks. When Mistress Sun was loving, she nigh-smothered you with her tolerance, as well as her ass; when she was demanding, all would be perfect. After all, Twilight thought happily, Mistress Sun is perfect.

Mistress Sun had teleported the scene garments she'd wanted Twilight dressed in to her room not long after she'd returned. Twilight had laughed at the sight, then, but they now seemed deadly serious, especially since the damn chain mail bikini top itched! She wasn't permitted bra or padding under it, and she did not dare shift or squirm, let alone rub.

I will not fail Mistress Sun!

At least mistress was merciful with my cunt. She was wearing a simple cotton loincloth held together by a thick canvas belt, studded at regular intervals. Bent as she was, her slutty pussy was vulnerable, open to the air behind her, especially since Mistress Sun had insisted that her knees be splayed apart, again, just at the perfect angle. Twilight was used to her mistress' demands by now, though her sessions were heart-achingly rare.

She hadn't needed many of them to graduate from amatory apprentice to fully ensnared slut; her rebellious little pussy had been as tightly mastered as her skilled limbs as of the second session, and mistress had been so proud! She thus suppressed the urge to pant or squirm, despite an irksome sense of invasion along her deep crack. The loincloth had been perfectly placed over her ass as well, but a brief, warm flare of magic had let Twilight know that her mistress was in a testing mood, and she had given Twilight quite the sudden wedgie.

Twilight had wondered at the lack of boots as she had gotten ready; she supposed she was a barbaric prisoner for the merciless and mysterious Mistress Sun, today. Eee! The tail thong was long, and reinforced, with a cushioned disc at the base to force the tail up; when standing, it meant her tail was only covering her after about six inches of drop. Now, of course, as was certainly Mistress Sun's intent and will, Twilight's tail drooped over her wedged crack, and far from concealing her yearning pussy, the strands teased with the slightest shift of air in the well-ventilated, but well-concealed chamber!

None of that matters. From the moment during their sex magic training when Celestia had whispered that Twilight might, just might, be her first student in three centuries to earn bedroom rights-- to be treated as a supplicant and true participant, not just a masturbatory aid like Celestia's guards-- Twilight had thrown herself and the fullness of her heart completely into whatever Celestia had desired of her. Twilight almost broke character as the joy of that moment washed over her, as wondrous as ever, but prevented herself from giggling. A change, then, had come in their relationship had come after Twilight's apotheosis. One of the first things she'd had to do was throttle back; Celestia wanted her as a friend and fellow princess when not a lover, and gently demanded Twilight keep her dignity outside of scenes.

Twilight was in a scene now. Which meant, she reflected, that she wasn't Twilight. She was Sparkle. It had been a bit odd, to hear Celestia use Trixie's obsessive nomenclature, but of course, Celestia had been right. Twilight was what she was called by the world, but Sparkle was still a part of her. Twilight was still working out who Sparkle was… but she knew that she was Sparkle whenever Celestia was Mistress Sun, and it took little practice and less deliberation to automatically fall into that submissive mindset whenever Mistress Sun called.

Mistress Sun decided she'd tested her pet's self-control long enough. Her thoughts were full of approval-- Such a willing little pussy-- though . She tapped the fingers of one enormous hand on the edge of her giant throne and abruptly said. "So. My guards stripped your weapons and tossed you in here. Why have you come, barbarian? Why does the arrogant Warlady Sparkle come to the House of Mistress Sun? To challenge my might? Or to surrender yourself, and your tribe, to be little quims, creaming at the thought of following my least whim."

Sparkle's mind was caught. Mistress Sun had needed no magic to enforce her desires but the enchantment of her cultured, haughty voice. Ringing in Sparkle's ears, punishing her presumption with a resonant ferocity. Sparkle bit the inside of her lip to prevent moaning or moving. She pondered the question-- swiftly! Mistress will not tolerate sloth. How naughty is nasty little Sparkle, who thought herself so big and butch with her Elements? Not too much, she decided. Mistress Sun loves me, after all. Can't be too bad.

Slowly, Sparkle leaned forward, hoping Mistress Sun would forgive the impudent, uncommanded break in perfection. Sparkle pressed her lowly forehead to the very floor, her wings pinned flat to her back, and even surrendered the hope of magic, grinding her horn tip into the flagstones; utter abasement. "This slave is no Warlady, unless Mistress Sun commands. Sparkle has seen the might of the mistress, and wishes to serve, and struggle no longer, unless it pleases Mistress Sun. Sparkle's tribe will obey, and Sparkle begs only that the mistress treats them as good sluts and studs, Sparkle's crimes her own responsibility; punishment and use at the mistress' disposal."

The solar loins moistened at this skilled surrender. My dearest student is so dedicated! Mistress Sun decided to be pleased. "I am surprised to hear such education among the weak and weak-minded that encamp beyond my light," she said slowly. "Rise, slut, arms at your side so I may see what value there is in you."

Once, Sparkle might have jumped, and Sparkle would have paid for such haste. Mistress wanted obedience, not clumsiness. Sparkle pulled her body back gracefully, muscular limbs swelling slightly under her control as she moved to her knees in a smooth motion. She didn't rock back onto her heels, she slid back as though the world moved to fit her, or rather, as though it moved to fit Mistress Sun's commands, her toes pulling her feet forward. Sparkle's powerful body obeyed with deftness and flexibility, and her thick arms moved to her side even as her mighty thighs and potent calves flexed, pushing her up to her feet in a smooth motion. If before such amazonian majesty as Mistress Sun, Sparkle was a spindly, lowly slave, then at least, she was a slave who had risen.

And had bounced her tits around like watermelons thrown onto a feather bed. Sparkle instantly forced herself to control the blush she wished to show in shame; mistress did not permit such unruliness to compound failure. That her ass was still stuffed with cotton was less important to her than the lewd display of her tits and the fucking itch as the links slid against her lavender skin, trying to scratch alicorn-tough hide.

Mistress Sun was bemused, and her lust stirred. "Pretty," she noted. "Do you dance, barbarian, or do your breasts merely wish to be beaten, and promise me the amusement of it?" She, at least, was relaxed in this: she continued to let her clit throb and her arousal gush. None of it disturbed her at all; her costume was quite moisture proof, and dear Sparkle wanted her pleased, after all. Why would I deny my sweet little student the proof? This is my throne, my place, my beloved slave. My musk is the only proper perfume. Furthermore, Mistress Sun knew she needed to be careful. My Sparkle is quite the obsessive; if I demanded it, Sparkle would bring herself to the edge of climax and stop, repeatedly, by will and imagination alone, not even her talented magic.

That wasn't what Mistress Sun, what Celestia wanted. Well, what I really want is to leap off this blasted throne, pounce on Twilight, and ride her face while fisting her and make Lulu set my wild and tempestuous Sun just the once. But doing so too often would give her an addicted Twilight, addicted and almost certainly in permanent subspace. Not the adorkable junior wife and strong pair of shoulders I want, I need, that I have been promised by signs and secrets throughout the ages. The one that will finally help me to relax some of the burden of Equestria and the world onto the Elements. Lulu was taking some, but as technology and magic grew, Celestia instinctively knew she'd need more.

So here I am, and here is my pet, sweeter than any cake. This reward, Mistress Sun knew, is for the both of us. Twilight hadn't been able to rely on just heroism, this time. She'd had to trust everything to her friends against the Firedancers. She had trusted, and rolled the dice, heading straight into the fire without even Barb at her side, trusting the Elements and her assistants to recover the Unveiled Joy. I had to hold the home front with Luna, unable to do much more than bless my sister alicorns against fire and wait, throwing back the Inferno D'skyo Legions while Twilight dueled the Firedancing Queen at the world's core.

Celestia had had to wait then, and when Twilight had begged sweetly in her ear, she had decided it was a reward for them both. Now, Mistress Sun waited, and Sparkle didn't disappoint. Burly, as smaller beings went, but perfectly pliant, Sparkle merely bowed her head, eyes properly at Mistress Sun's feet. Sparkle quietly said, "As the mistress commands, Sparkle dances; as the mistress judges, Sparkle is beaten."

Sparkle didn't look up, but some glow in mistress' glorious presence told her she'd said the right thing. Was this, then, why Sparkle's naughty knockers were being scratched, teased, and punished by the bikini? Sparkle heard her mistress' voice tell her, "Good, slut, but I've dancers. What else can you give me?" There is something in Mistress Sun's voice… is that teasing? Or...

Sparkle swallowed, unable to control her worry. A smile, then, and a challenge; mistress has Sparkle to the quick. A quiz! Sparkle hasn't studied! Sparkle doesn't know if she'll need her number two vibrator or not! Sparkle quietly said, "Mistress has heard of my tribe's successes; shall I show mistress the muscles surrendered to her?"

Mistress Sun sniffed imperiously, and Sparkle trembled deep in her soul. Sparkle's pussy really wants to drip! Fear and lust warred in Sparkle as Mistress Sun called her forward with an arrogant wave of her hand, then commanded her to stop with the same but a few breaths from the throne.

"My dear, do you think yourself worthy of being the least common soldier in my guard?" said the teasing voice. "Look up, Sparkle," commanded Mistress Sun, and as Sparkle did, Sparkle broke, and Sparkle came, squealing and falling to the floor.

Above her squalling pet, Mistress Sun stood. Her impossibly vast left arm was curled out to her side, her fingers arched up above, and her titanic, terrifying right arm was set straight out from her fantastically broad shoulders. Huge, orichalcum and adamantium bracelets fitted over wrists, nothing more than small adornments before the divinely perfect muscles, in extension to one side and flexion most massive to the other. Those broad shoulders were covered in sparkling orichalcum chains that splayed out from her collar to dance in shimmering rays along the rippled lengths, with a single heavy chain connecting each side together, weighted with adamantium discs that were enchanted to cling lightly to her skin and pull the adornment back into place when disturbed.

The radiant giantess was clad in some strange, glimmering white material. A light wrap of it around her throat emblazoned with the words SOL IMPERAT OMNES in orichalcum anchored a strap a full handspan (hers) wide down her front, crossed by another strap over her blindly beautiful, gorgeously gigantic breasts, then another strap strained to hug the callipygian excess of her hips, sinking just lightly into the plush covering for world-conquering strength beneath. Mistress Sun rather liked the effect, like a pair of pretty, begging stallions weakly holding on for dear life.

The crests of nations, houses, and rebels conquered by Celestia alone -- Sparkle knew Mistress Sun had refused Mistress Moon's surrender of her own and mutual triumphs, and Twilight knew why -- adorned the hip strap. They were, of necessity from their numbers, small enough that Sparkle's eyes had to strain through the tears of pleasure and shame alike to make them out, even this close.

Sparkle's eager wings fluttered as she sinuously slung her hips out to the side, grinding her thighs' plush together over her unconstrained cunt, creaming from simply the vision of her mistress' might. Sparkle, conquered wholly once again, rested on one elbow, trying to keep her eyes fixed on Mistress Sun despite her body's thrash, while her other trembling hand held her six pack, felt her weak little belly and horny womb beneath clutch constantly. Sparkle wished she dared bow her head in submission, but Mistress Sun's beauty demanded adoration in much stronger terms, and all she could do was watch, and cum.

Mistress Sun's treasured glory was covered by the same broad strap that descended from her collar, and it continued down all the way and then back up to caress her rump. From there, past the hip strap it shot up her back between her pure, shining wings as it did between her mountainous mammaries. The mistress wore no other adornment; needed none other, and refused to wear her tiara like this. Sparkle slowly came down from her subspace-induced climax, though her mind was still locked hard in the zone. Would be, until her loving mentor brought her out of it; there was no recovery without such permission, not from this.

Mistress Sun smiled and let her triumphantly massive arms down to her sides, and swung her luxuriously large hips with deservedly dangerous arrogance she walked towards Sparkle. It is perhaps naughty of me, she thought, but if I judge right, the rosy surprise and delight I am about to evoke in Sparkle will make it all worth it. As Sparkle quivered weakly beneath her presence, as though held there by Mistress Sun's own finger, Mistress Sun brought her massive right foot forward slightly. Sparkle scrambled around in abrupt, absolute, joyous obedience, and began to kiss hungrily, an almost crazed light in her eyes.

"Just ten times," Mistress Sun decided, and Sparkle made it so. When she finished, Sparkle crisply resumed the same pose in which she had begun the scene, not daring to press her head down as she deeply desired. Her only concession to the situation was to keep her head slightly tilted so her horn did not touch her mistress' colossal calf muscle.

All of a sudden, the tone of her mistress' voice and the very emotional storm of the room changed in a snap. "My dear!" said Mistress Sun as she shifted her legs back. Sparkle's muscles tensed as confusion ran through her, and she almost broke stance to look up, or worse yet, to question. Mistress sounded happy. Chirpy, even.

"Why did you not tell me you were a singer? And such sweet tones of praise, at that," Her breasts bounced as she laughed, shadow flickering back and forth over Sparkle, who let out a long, pleasured moan, thinking, Mistress is not merely pleased, mistress is merciful!

"Mm, yes, and it seems you know such varieties, too. Come along-- no, dear slut, don't mess the floor more, just come with me, not come for me," she teased as Sparkle wriggled her hips, so slim and coltish before her mistress, and panted with eager preparation to obey any command.

"May I flag for you, Mistress? Sparkle's nasty pussy is soiling her tail. Your property is mussy enough," Sparkle ventured boldly.

Mistress Sun brought a pensive, sculpted finger up to her full, perfect lips, and licked at it once, considering. "Two choices, faithful student," she told Twilight, a signal not to come out from Sparkle, but that she really wanted a choice, not a test to see what pleased her best. "You may flag, yes, but I'll be testing your training to cum from anal play, not your cute little quim. Don't call it nasty again today please, dear, I really am happy with you. On the other hand, if you can stand the teasing until you crawl behind me to my throne, I'll frig you off and then let you eat me out."

Twilight Sparkle wrestled with the choice in her memory again, as the Twilight Sparkle of the present day came for the fifth time in her bedroom. Sparkle, in the memory and present alike, wingbonered; she didn't hold the control for the question, and mistress did like her displays after all, it seemed! Eventually, Twilight answered, "Sparkle's pussy can take the teasing, mistress, if mistress' hand is the promised reward."

"I love you," Celestia said, and then turned slowly, her wings stretching a bit and her gorgeously teardrop-shaped ass bouncing gaily.

Mistress Sun spoke, and Sparkle knew the difference immediately. "Wings down, songbird. You'll not fly again if you prove worth my time, locked in a pretty cage for my amusement." Sparkle obeyed, and Mistress Sun continued, not bothering to look over her shoulder as she began to slink aggressively towards her waiting throne, "Wings down, but head high, slut who would be mine. You have earned the honor of watching my royal rump on its way to a seat. No drooling from either lips until I say, now, you've been messy enough."

Sparkle perked instantly, and barely contained her nigh-overwhelming urge to flag. She mooned dreamily after her mistress' teasing, jiggling cheeks, all but pronking as she crawled-- no, pranced, behind Mistress Sun. The majority of her attention was held to her mistress' beautiful rear as had been declared, but she couldn't help but watch the hypnotic tug and move of muscles upon muscles beneath the saintly lushness of Mistress Sun's queenly thighs. Soon, if Sparkle is a good enough little pony, Sparkle will be between them, between the walls of heaven once more.

Mistress Sun settled her luscious, plush seat down onto her throne and smiled benevolently down at the eagerness in Twilight's every perky movement. "On your best begging pose, my dear. Show your mistress how ready you are."

Sparkle whimpered happily, and smoothly slid her amazonian legs and feet, just as before, setting herself in a gliding motion back on her heels. Her knees were bent completely, the plump padding of her ass tugging on the muscles beneath. Her loincloth fell away from her engorged, desperate cunt, and Sparkle tensed for a fearful moment. Ah, mistress was foresightful as ever; the tip did not stain mistress' floor.

Sparkle let her naughty tail hike up, but didn't flag. Her torso was straight, her wings plastered against her back. Her muzzle, she kept demurely down, but she lifted her eyes up and concentrated on stretching them wide to show off her mistress' favorite little puppy dog eyes. "Beg," though, that meant the arms, too. Sparkle knew that the point of the beg was to entice her wondrous mistress, and so she curled up her arms and bulged out her muscles, pulling her arms together into the sides of her melons.

And pushed, and pushed. Neither melons nor muscles were anything more than pale shadows of Mistress Sun's sheer mass, but Sparkle's clinical side forced her to stop and turn her hands forward in imitation of begging paws once her arms were parallel against her sides and digging hard into her slutty tits. Mistress had snapped Sparkle right out of subspace the last time Sparkle had just kept mindlessly pushing on display, self-punishing her teats for their impertinent failed imitation-- mistress had not been pleased. Sparkle is so lucky; mistress keeps her safe and happy!

Sparkle got her horny body in position, fixed her eyes on her mistress' gaze, and opened her mouth, rolling out her tongue but tensing her jaw, willing the drool not to drip. "Your mouth may drool," Mistress Sun said tenderly. "My, little songbird. You must want to be my property so dearly." The words reverberated into Sparkle, and drool she did, panting. Only absolute control beneath and supporting her submissive lusts helped her to avoid wagging her tail or flapping her wings.

"You please me, Sparkle," Mistress Sun said, almost trembling. She suppressed it. As she would tell Twilight later, she was so horny, she almost hit Twilight with the full force of her magic right then and there. To take her and claim her utterly, in the old ways. But no one had more control — where cake was not involved — than Celestia. As Sparkle let out a shuddering moan, Mistress Sun softly said, "Such a pretty beg. Sing for me again, my whinnying quim."

The order was all that was needed. Still untouched by her colossal mistress, Sparkle climaxed, whinnying and whickering in literally eye-blinding ecstasy. She wanted to scream Mistress Sun's name, but despite the release, held something back. She kept her voice noiseless and as rich and pleading as she could, her sight fading in and out of darkness and overwhelming light. Dampness poured from her unleashed snatch as the pleasure flowed from every part of her.

Mistress Sun inhaled deeply, her gargantuan rack heaving slowly, and smiled, dimples both marring and increasing the perfection of her face. "A lovely scent; I shall have to collect your essence as you sing for me hereafter." At that, she let some control loose, stroking her redwood-like thighs together, rubbing her strap back against throbbing clit and damp lips. Sparkle inhaled the musk, the indescribable, addictive scent, and mind of the moment and memory started to grow hazier still. Still drooling, Sparkle leaned a little forward, whimpered, and begged wordlessly again.

"Not yet, dear songbird," Mistress Sun told Sparkle gently, and then smiled. "In my lap, dear. Come on up, so I may play the song from you."

Sparkle rose slowly, her will recapturing control more and more with every moment. Her potent, well-trained body moved with utter precision; she had earned "Overwhelm with Kindness" but with her mistress nigh naked, she knew that "Overwhelm by Main Force" was not far away. Nonetheless, Sparkle decided to risk some boldness. Her drenched loincloth swinging back and forth, Sparkle came over to Mistress Sun, curtseyed as deep as she could, and then smoothly crawled onto mistress' lap. As instructed, yes, but instead of face down and rump up, as might have been expected, but not ordered, Sparkle rolled over onto her back, careful with her wings, and pressed her strong, pitiful arms up in the begflex once again.

"Showing me your belly, dear?" asked Mistress Sun. She smiled thinly down at Sparkle, displaying her flat teeth. "Do you think me a predator, then?" she asked, a dangerous, lust-hunger undercurrent to her voice.

"Mistress," panted Sparkle, her throat catching, "My life is yours to devour, and my heart already upon your plate."

Mistress Sun laughed with joy once more, and hooked her fingers to tug on Sparkle's chain mail bra. "Laying it on a bit thick, my songbird. Really, carnivorous poetry?" Another sniff.

Nonetheless, Sparkle's control lapsed a bit, her belly rolling with a tremble of pleasure, trusting she was not going to be punished-- or if she was, the most would be her naughty knockers. Sparkle's heavy breasts moved around in soft jiggles as Mistress Sun inspected them lovingly. Teased them with the scrape of chainmail over impervious, yes, but still very sensitive skin. What is she thinking, wondered the adoring Sparkle.

What was I thinking? were apparently Mistress Sun's thoughts, as she later revealed. Pretty enough, but little more than an itch to tease my faithful student. No more than an additional irritant without pleasurable means of control. Alas. Well. The little dear does so like it when I put aside the Princessly Mask for the Warmistress. Mistress Sun wrapped her enormous fist around the center of the chainmail bra, and flexed, just lightly. Sparkle's eyes widened with sudden fear, and feverishly willed herself not to flinch from whatever punishment her mistress desired…

And the links that had been within Mistress Sun's grip simply evaporated. The cataclysmic force of her abrupt grip atomized and fused the metal briefly, before a fusion-hot flare of Mistress Sun's power ignited the remnants. Power, powder, then poof. Lavender breasts that even in Mistress Sun's extensive memory rarely had an equal bounced and wobbled free, heavy nipples, stiff as soldiers on watch, wiggling and waggling about. Sparkle tried to control herself and grunted, chewing on her bottom lip as Mistress Sun roughly tweaked and flicked at the fat nips, sunk her fingers possessively into the juicy jugs, and tsked at Sparkle. "Songbird," she said in warning, and Sparkle snapped to as passive attention as she could; her disobedient breasts kept on shaking a bit afterwards. "Thighs up," commanded Mistress Sun.

Sparkle obeyed immediately. How did Sparkle fail? She wanted to whine. She wanted to gush. She did neither, but simply held her thunder thighs and lengthy legs up straight as the expected swats came across both legs, demonstrating quite conclusively that Mistress Sun could own any part of Sparkle's body with any part of hers. After leaving five red handprints on both, Mistress Sun sighed, sounding disappointed, and shook her head.

"Still interfering with my tuning of you, my dear?" she said. As Sparkle's shocked eyes and further shocked mind tried to process this, Mistress Sun pulled the loincloth edges together, jerking the ass beneath back into a wedgie, uncomfortable and invasive, while in front she relentlessly fed Sparkle's clit teasing strokes.

What…. Oh! thought Sparkle. "OhhhhhhhHHHhh," groaned Sparkle, And she whimpered and whined, and indeed gushed like the horny little slut she was, though her mistress didn't seem to mind. She sang out with every manipulation her mistress made, reacted precisely to punishing swats, to possessive fondles, to every least tweak and touch, her shuddering cries all she permitted herself. Her warmare's body stayed exactly as Mistress Sun demanded until the next command came; legs up, legs down, and eventually, as Mistress Sun promised, legs spread.

There are talented hands, which soon learn to please a lover. There are skilled hands, which know how best to learn swift and build. There is experience between dom and sub, between giver and given. And then there was the direct effect of being masturbated by a goddess who had spent a not inconsiderable percentage of her downtime over the millennia of her life granting bliss to her favorites. And of those favorites, she had loved only her sister longer and as equally deep.

The past peeled away. Twilight had actually stopped masturbating for a few moments. Panting, she whimpered a spell, summoning a small Eye of Memory orb as she spread her legs again and looked up into it. "I remember, Celestia," she said. "I love you," she breathed, panting after a few moments, and then came from what snatches of the memory she could extract from of the glorious climax she'd had at and on Mistress Sun's hand. The spell would depart to Celestia's collection, soon enough.

It was hard to remember all the details through the fog of pleasure and subspace she'd been in. A jumbled up mixture of pleasure and nigh-painful teasing, of Mistress Sun bringing her across, then up, then over again and again. Twilight wasn't sure whether or not if, as Sparkle, she hadn't sung the legion pride song of Celestia's personal troops from the early Unification, gone to dust even before the rise of Nightmare Moon.

Within the shifting fog of ecstatic memory Sparkle had eventually found herself, as promised, being admitted to worship the greatest treasure of the land. Of the world, she was certain. The beauty of Mistress Sun's pussy was incomparable, and Sparkle whimpered as her mind filled with the intoxicating scent of Mistress Sun's arousal; of a near-literal heat. As she did on these rare occasions, Sparkle wondered if stallions had their own private worship of her mistress during heat season; if smelling their mates ready and eager for impregnation, compelling response, was some small window into this.

Sparkle wasn't jealous; the thought of being jealous with her mistress' favors would have been anathema. It simply didn't occur. She merely inhaled deeply, let out a happy squeak when the massive thighs around her shifted and Mistress Sun altered her seat to give Sparkle a better angle. Mistress wanted to get off; therefore, Sparkle had no other drives now. Sparkle dove in deep, grateful that the white mountains of mistress' thighs were spread to permit Sparkle's thick arms access, to let her fingers caress and stroke on sensitive flesh as the mistress deserved.

Sparkle kissed her way down first one grandly muscled thigh, than the other. She tasted an eternity of pleasure in Mistress Sun's juices, licked up deep and the sensation hoarded like the greedy little filly she was. Sparkle dared not tease; she had been trained to mistress' cunt, and knew exactly how many extra licks around and on mistress' amazon-furred mound to give before obeying the call of the clit supreme. Her deft fingers snuck into mistress' supreme snatch, then came out, trembling, to Sparkle's lips for another taste. Sparkle brought herself into the thrall of Mistress Sun's pussy, tasting her, pleasing her, her lips twisting and tugging independently to beg, oh beg and beg again for Mistress Sun's pleasure.

The memory didn't exactly fade at that point; nor could Twilight be said to be precisely distracted. Oh, she was cumming nearly as hard as she remembered in the memories, but she had done very well, and had gotten Celestia off in more than one sense. She'd given her beloved senior sister-princess an excellent orgasm, from what she was told and half-recalled. It had been good enough, and Celestia's trust in her so great, that Celestia had let some of her spiritual side loose, and climaxed upon that plane as well. Only a few, even among the alicorns, could have withstood that climax, and Twilight was pretty smug every time she brought Celestia around to it. Like a horngasm or wingcum but better, both, and more at the same time.

As her climax in the now finished, Twilight stood shakily, licked her fingers clean, and pulled off her shirt, putting it away neatly. She stretched a bit, and then noticed, "Oh, fuck me wrong ways and across! The time!" A flush of cheeks, eyes wide and mane frizzing of its own volition, panic spread over Twilight, and she almost walked through the wall on her way to the shower. Her girls! No one was watching her sister Elements and they were all together!

It was nearly as bad as unrestrained crusading, and certainly was excellent motivation for a quick shower.