Deferential Peace

The hole in the sky had gotten larger.

One day prior, Celestia had been dismissed shortly after her address to her former citizens. It had been sometime in the afternoon, but she had long lost track of time – she could feel the position of the sun in the late afternoon sky, but it was frozen there, thus making the hours of the day hard to tell apart. Endless day or night benefitted no one and there had been assurances that Celestia would be allowed to move the sun again, but the privilege would not return until her new master had deemed her worthy.

Her eyes on the sky, Celestia thought about her sister. Luna was a fighter, and lacked the diplomatic background that blunted Celestia’s edge enough to help her accept any humility that would benefit her people. The Moon Princess had, by contrast, simmered through the defeat. To her credit Luna had lasted through the peace-talks, even going so far as to accept the terms of surrender along with the other royalty of Equestria, but suppressing her magic had been Luna’s breaking point. When she finally bolted, there was nothing left of the unfortunate dogs tasked with fitting Luna’s repression sleeve but smoking holes in the receiving carpet, and bits of charred armor.

Celestia sighed. She missed her sister, but perhaps Luna’s flight had been for the best. The griffins would either capture and tame her, and thus nothing would be lost so long as Celestia and her student existed to diffuse the situation, or they would…not. If the griffins failed to bring Luna home she would either escape to freedom, or she would die in combat. Celestia wished for the former, but knew her sister would still likely prefer the latter to capture.

The scars of battle were slowly dissipating; the hole in the sky was indeed getting larger by the day. Soon the rays of the sun would again shine upon Equestria, and with their light came the promise of a new day. A day that promised peace, one way or another.

Celestia glanced at herself in a dusty mirror within the small chamber she had been led to that morning. Emperor Kessen could easily have had his way with her in private from the moment her address had ended yesterday, but he had instead sent her away. In his own strange way, Kessen seemed to have a mind for ceremony – he would not take her leash until the first time she had publically given it to him, and though she knew what was ultimately to come, he would not take her body until he felt the time was right.

Outside, the sounds of a gathered crowd came to Celestia’s ears. The room she had been taken to was storage for royal chariots. It was something akin to a large garage, and thus she was a single set of double-doors away from the street. Within the chamber, there was little to keep the gilded chariots company beyond cold stone walls and a bevy of maintenance tools. The air stank of the machine oil that servants often made use of to keep wheels turning on demand.

It was a plain place. Glancing again at the mirror that waited in silence with her, Celestia took stock of the plain pony that now resided there.

Bereft of every badge of her former office, Celestia was now a somewhat average, if not tall, white mare. Her mane and tail were tied in such tight braids that they no longer flowed under their own power – the ties that bound them were adorned with bells and strips of colorful ribbon, such that they resembled the musical finery of Saddle Arabian harem concubines. The ensemble was accented by a bridle of elegant purple leather, set with fringe and tassels. Instead of a bit, the ends of the bridle were attached to a sheer slip of silk that rode over Celestia’s lips as a veil. Her collar, a menagerie of the forces that had claimed her, remained still upon her neck, and the rubbery sleeve that contained her magic was locked securely about her horn.

Celestia’s eyelashes had been curled, and her lids doused with deep lavender eyeshadow to compliment the color of her bridle. She batted them several times, staring at her reflection with little recognition. Her transformation was beyond even her own expectations, such that she couldn’t help but appreciate the skill that had gone into lowering her position below that of the common pony. Glancing about to ensure no one was about, she pranced before the mirror, shaking the bells and tassels as she attempted to practice steps that would complement what she had become.

Her steps were labored – her hind legs not yet comfortable with the unfamiliar burden they bore. Her cheeks flushed beneath her veil, and she turned her backside to the mirror to glance over her shoulder. Her tail was too heavy to lift on her own; tied as it was in the manner of whores, she could scarcely keep her secrets under wraps at all now, as the narrow tail swayed from side to side with every simple movement. She brushed it to the side to get a better look at herself.

There, in her tighter, higher hole, a golden plug was buried nearly to the hilt. It glinted even in the subdued light, and Celestia could clearly see the name of Emperor Kessen engraved upon it. This was the fate of the neckwear the princess once wore – melted down and rearranged into this new badge of office. A badge that made her his.

The time for inspection passed quickly, and at length, the doors were thrown open to admit a small horde of attendants. Temporarily blinded by the sudden light, Celestia winced in the face of diamond dog guards, armored and outfitted with large yokes, and pony hoofmaidens who would attend her in a mockery of their former positions. The guards, she already knew, were to be tasked with carrying the chariots like palanquins – Kessen had opted not to bend Celestia’s former guards to this task, choosing instead to disarm them and send them out into the crowd to view the spectacle with their fellow ponies. It was a further attempt to placate the pony mind, and ensure the populace that they would not be exploited beyond the systematic, psychological breaking down of their national identity and the symbols that maintained it.

Floating along in the sea of maidens were those few ponies who would be Celestia’s companions on parade. Bare of hoof and removed as well of everything from badges of state to the armor of captains, each mare of high military or cabinet breeding was adorned much as Celestia herself was, their own finery only slightly less grandiose than hers. They were also devoid of the plug that Celestia wore. The maidens hurried them, one each, up onto the chariots they once rode proudly. Soon, the entire line of once-proud chariots had been converted into a rolling display to show their subservience to the new regime.

Celestia had but a moment to acknowledge Twilight Sparkle before she took her place upon the chariot just behind Celestia’s own in line. Twilight, her lips shimmering with color behind her own veil and her eyelids crusted with garish shadow, had her mind to her task as though a new tome of knowledge lay before her with a cup of tea on a lazy Sunday. She did not appear happy by any means, but as she hopped into her place, Celestia felt a wash of pride for her student. Twilight had indeed become a servant of her people, and was demonstrating that she was just as able to accept humility for the greater good.

Celestia’s reverie was broken by the flowing silks of the young hoofmaiden who had attended her the previous day. The familiar earth mare was so young – the deep green freckles on her sage face and the thin glasses upon her muzzle made her appear as though she should be in books still, and not the finery of a maiden of the royal house. Celestia did not know her name, but chose to obey her without quarrel anyway. Resisting the maiden’s directions would only complicate life for the hesitant young mare, who was trying to adapt to her sudden elevation to the position of Celestia’s personal attendant. The truth was that Kessen had assigned a junior maiden to Celestia to reinforce the idea that the princess was now a pet with a handler, not a princess with an entourage.

The maiden stood on three legs. The fourth, a foreleg, was draped with several long strips of striped cloth in gold and royal purple. With her teeth, the maiden set her bundle, one strip at a time of four, upon a rough workbench, and then turned to Celestia, her brow knitted to firmness.

“Leg up,” The maiden commanded without a greeting, lifting her own foreleg daintily to demonstrate her order. Celestia repeated the gesture and then stood still, watching as the maiden worked to slip one of the sheer cloth sheaths over Celestia’s leg, up past the knee. They were stockings, composed of an intimate silk and lace combination that was as exotic as it was racy. While it was not unheard of for a pony to wear stockings in public, these garments were the equivalent of sensual lingerie versus simple, everyday hose.

Celestia raised her other foreleg for its covering, and waited patiently as the maiden hesitated further with the hind legs. Clearly Celestia’s new ‘handler’ hadn’t expected the plug in her charge’s rear, which was impossible to miss given the tightly bound tail that could not hide it. Kessen had inserted it himself, after a brief visit with his pet before she was led into the carriage stalls to wait.

Celestia eventually took her place upon the lead chariot. Like the others, its seat had been temporarily converted into a platform with a hastily-constructed railing. She stood upon it, feeling its firmness under her hooves. It elevated her enough for her entire body to be exposed in every direction, as though she were riding atop a parade float.

A pair of burly dogs that dwarfed even the largest farm-stallion by at least double attached their yokes to the front of the chariot. Their ruddy iron helmets sat low on their heads, masking each dog’s expression and thus taking attention away from them. Celestia’s handler took a position upon the chariot-float as well, lower and off to the side.

A signal was given, and the doors were thrown back. Celestia found her eyes blinking with light adjustment despite the gray skies. Her ears swiveled in every direction, assaulted by the din of the outside world she was being rolled into.

It was Canterlot as Celestia had never thought it could be, and her high perch did little to offset the diminutive feeling she got when comparing her new self to the high walls. As before, each distant battlement was attended by the silhouette of a minotaur or dog guard, while griffins on duty patrolled the skies at a lazy pace, high above the standards of the unifying forces.

But the real action was in the streets. Unmolested by the conquering guards, ponies writhed in a throng about the path that had been cordoned off for the chariots, each attempting to catch a glance of the procession. Celestia wasn’t certain if Kessen’s decree that ‘all shall be in attendance’ was a threat, but given the situation, she doubted any of her subjects would have been difficult to coerce. Trumpets blared out a spirited tune, as if the parade’s intended destination were nothing so scandalous as the Summer Sun Celebration. Celestia felt a yank on her leash, which had never been removed from her collar the day before, such that she had slept in it.

“Tail up,” Her handler muttered. “Smile…please.”

Wearing a smile was simple enough – the art of reassurance was practically a job requirement for being a princess. The rest of the task, however, was not as simple as Celestia had hoped. She could feel flash photography crawling along her body, like so many multi-legged insects through the wintery forest of her coat. Paparazzi clicked photo after photo for the papers, as though their princess had chosen all of this of her own accord.

Bowing her head and closing her eyes, Celestia attempted to hide behind the tiny veil over her muzzle as she obeyed the other command. Tensing the muscles in her dock, she strained against the weight and finally raised her tail out of the way. She felt another tug from her handler – obeying the movement, she turned her rump towards the thicker carpet of colorful pony coats and allowed the audience a clear view of Kessen’s plug inside her. Her marehood, usually well-concealed by her flowing tail, also went on display as a result.

Celestia heard gasps, muttering, and even catcalls. There were voices that spoke of scandal and some of disgust that their sovereign would be reduced to this, but a few others were engaged either in complements to her rump, or desires to take it for themselves. The intensity of Celestia’s embarrassment made her backside feel as warm as her face. She kept herself on display, turning and pivoting at the behest of her handler such that the former princess might show herself properly in all directions. She picked up her hooves and even beat her wings a few times – they were vain, weak attempts to prance, and the elegant alicorn felt clumsy in their execution.

The catcalls increased, and she wondered how many of them originated from her own citizens. Blinded by the photography, she heard her own name shouted far more frequently than that of any of the other ponies on display. When she was able to back, she could see that the rest of her entourage, including Twilight, were just standing there atop their viewing platforms, staring about uneasily or bowing their heads in embarrassed acceptance. Celestia came to understand the unequal attention she was receiving. This parade was to show the subservience of the royal sisters, and since there was only one sister to go around, the onus was on the half of the pair that remained.

For a brief moment, Celestia felt fire glowing behind her eyes. Enduring embarrassment by herself was one thing, but the very idea that they would have done this to her sister as well brought a sneer to her lip that putrefied her smile. She swallowed hard and tossed the emotion back into the recesses of her psyche.

The conquering forces were everywhere, and yet…her little ponies seemed to be having a good time. With the way things had become, what more could she ask for?

The procession came to a halt just outside the walls of Celestia’s palace, in the courtyard where ponies often gathered for social events. There was a large, round, stone dais in the center, where the devices of the twin princesses were usually put upon display to celebrate the summer sun. The devices were gone now – replaced by a single, hulking, familiar minotaur, dressed exactly as he had been the day before. Kessen’s burly guards ringed the dais from below, but he stood atop it like some statue in his own right, decked out in his garish cape, uniform pants, and the altered crown that had once been Celestia’s. His arms were folded and he never moved a muscle, apart from the occasional snort of hot breath from his snout.

Kessen’s eyes bore straight through the procession to focus entirely upon Celestia. His pet, packaged and waiting to be delivered to him, was under the constant supervision of his icy blue stare as it lanced out and grappled her, pulling her inexorably to her fate. In the emperor’s calm, the former princess could see a constantly calculating mind – one that knew everything around it and already had a thousand plans in place to deal with any threat from any angle.

Celestia smiled ruefully beneath her veil, a curious desire ticking the back of her mind. Had she met him upon the field of battle with her magic intact, she believed Kessen would have still proved a formidable and interesting opponent.

A portion of the railing around Celestia’s perch pivoted like a gate. Her handler had already hopped down to street level, and was firmly tugging on the leash wrapped around her foreleg. Celestia stepped daintily down from her ‘carriage’, her stockinged hooves gracing the flagstones with a reserved tuft rather than a pronounced clack. She glanced backwards long enough to view her companions, who were left atop their vehicles, their own handlers now encouraging them to turn about and present themselves for the prying eyes of the public.

The ring of guards parted, and Celestia was led up the dais to her master’s level. Celestia’s handler made another quick retreat, but not before ordering her charge to open wide and accept the coiled leash once again in her mouth. It came to pass that the dais boasted only the two rulers – one in a state of eclipse while the other had only begun to flourish.

Kessen never moved; never uncrossed his arms. The crowd was still in flux, their din drowning out his words such that only she could hear him clearly.

“I have lain with griffin hens before,” he said simply. “They are spirited and occasionally forget their own claws, but their plumage has never pleased me.”

Picking up on Kessen’s subtle hint, Celestia stepped forwards a few paces and flexed her wings to a span well beyond what any of her subjects could match. Even in stockings and a bridle, with a golden plug in her rear, she still managed to make the move look regal.

Kessen finally uncrossed his arms and closed the rest of the distance. He began to slowly circle his pet, intimately stroking her feathers and patches of her sides wherever he saw fit.

“Excellent,” he mused. “You could fly away at any time, yet you choose to remain. Do you understand why I have not bound your wings, nor discreetly had your primary feathers clipped?”

Celestia said nothing. Kessen, behind her now, took gentle hold of the plug that bore his name and twisted it slowly, enough to stiffen Celestia’s back and raise tension in her coat hairs. Pleased with this response, he let go and came up beside her.

“You please your master again,” he said simply. When he completed his circle of steps, he placed two fingers under her chin, and once again lifted her face to meet his eyes. “Unlike your sister, you understand that you are a servant of your people. Service is engrained within you, and thus you are better at it than you believe. I asked you a question, but you understood that my wrath would have been greater had you let this drop,” He fingered the leash dangling from Celestia’s mouth. “And beyond that, you understand that my refusal to bind your wings is so that you can show me your submission.”

Kessen let go of Celestia’s chin, expecting her to keep her face raised. When she did not disappoint, he reached up and ran the same fingers up the length of her rubberized horn-sleeve.

“You are bound in part,” Kessen continued. “Were I to bind you in full, you would have the excuse that your restraints are the only reason you obey. You may find it odd, my pet, but even now I maintain a certain level of respect for your intellect. Mortified as you likely are, you still care for your citizens, and you understand the subtleties of submission.”

Kessen held his palm out flat, inches beneath Celestia’s snowy maw. She bent her snout towards his hand, graced him with a touch there from behind her sheer veil, and daintily opened her mouth, placing the looped end of the leash in his grip. Kessen closed his fist around the leash, his other hand finding the spot where her crown used to sit. He scratched her there with an affection one might show for a farm animal of dubious sentience.

Celestia could no longer help herself. Her lips parted, her habitual desire to address the crowd welling inside her, but he placed a finger over her veil and silenced her.

“No,” Kessen commanded, “the time for that is past. You are mine now, and my pets speak only when they are spoken to. Surely you have worked out the true reason for this spectacle by now, have you not?”

Celestia had no time to answer. In a flash of movement, Kessen drew his finger from her lips, lifted her veil, and bent his massive shoulders to claim her lips. For a moment she stiffened again as the eyes of the public bore holes into her sides, but his mollifying stroking of her equine neck encouraged her to close her eyes in acceptance. He parted her lips, and soon she was suckling upon his tongue; milking the first offering of two he would grace her with that afternoon, in full view of the populace.

The noise from the crowed ebbed and flowed like tides upon a beach, but Celestia felt herself deafening to it. Kessen’s kiss was like none she had ever experienced before. It was not, however, the dexterity of his swirling tongue nor the scent of his musk upon her that enticed her the most – it was the sheer audacity with which he took her. In that moment, Celestia came to the realization that in every such experience she had enjoyed in the past, her partners had been holding back in deference to her rank. All of that was gone now, and when Kessen broke the kiss, she found herself searching his eyes with an unintentionally dreamy look. This creature was not afraid to truly have his way with her.

“…good,” was all Kessen said. He removed himself from her field of vision, and she suddenly found herself favoring the entire audience with a pair of bedroom eyes and soft blush upon her cheeks. She sought to straighten up, but he was already behind her, and his hands upon her rump kept her still. His voice was a low tremor, and again, she was sure the audience could only perceive his words in her reactions to them.

“The first time with a new partner is the one you most remember,” Kessen rumbled as he touched the golden plug and twisted it again. “You will remember your first time with me right here, right now, on display for all to see; standing like a mounted animal with no bed, no satin pillows, and no privacy. Thus, the next time I choose to amuse myself inside you as I sit upon your throne, you will already be used to the idea.”

Celestia felt Kessen’s finger slide its way along the puffy entrance to her marehood, and he chuckled as it came away damp. There was a tug again at her collar; just enough to remind her that the leash was still there.

“You train quickly,” Kessen observed. “And you train well.”

The time for words ended. Celestia whimpered and clenched her teeth as she felt the invader slide inside her. It was not of the familiar equine shape – far thicker and broader, Kessen’s blunted tip found and roughly kissed her cervix faster than any penetration she had ever felt before. She could feel only the faintest hint of his hips against her rump. Even in coitus, he had found a subtle way to exert his superiority over her by right away making it plain that he was longer than she was deep.

Kessen held himself at Celestia’s deepest point until finally she could feel him pull back, and then thrust once more slowly forward. Her inner walls, as silky smooth as the veil that contained her ragged breath, parted easily in their dampness as they fed him again into her core with welcoming hugs.

“…ohh…”

There was nowhere to go; no way to hide herself. Celestia could only stand there and allow her unlikely paramour to enjoy himself at an easy pace, ramping it up gradually as only he saw fit. His fingertips dug into the soft coat of her hips, which he used for leverage to strike home time and again. Celestia’s breath began to come to her in short bursts. Soon her lungs were cycling air in time with his thrusts, and every attempt at words was stolen away on the wings of sharp moaning.

“Your eyes are closed,” Kessen huffed, “But theirs are not. Feel their gaze upon you, pet. It pleases them to watch this, even if they would never admit to it.” His grip on the leash tightened, forcing her to gag once. “They are lighthouses on a distant horizon. A hundred miles away, far enough for you to enjoy yourself, while still displaying your silhouette against the horizon for all of them to see.”

“…ah…hahh…”

Celestia whimpered again, struggling against her collar. Kessen allowed her to breathe, but only when he so chose.

“Tell your master what you want, pet,” Kessen whispered, his words carved in deep relief against the distant voices of the crowd in Celestia’s mind. “Listen to the sounds of your own arousal in your ears, and tell me what you want most at this very moment. See that your master is as kind as he claims.”

Celestia could barely hear the crowd at all now. There was nothing but her master’s voice and the rhythmic squishing of their intercourse. She felt him flex within her, pulsing with fertile life, and words passed through her veil before she could stop them-

“…m-master…nnghahh…b-breed your p-pet…ahhgn…”

“As you wish, Princess,” Kessen replied.

Slamming into his partner with abandon, Kessen yanked sharply on the leash. Celestia took the mental cue, and as climax tore through her, she reared up, spun her forelegs in the air like an Appleoosan cattle herder, and let out a shrill, feral whinny. Kessen made one last thrust, and then held himself at Celestia’s deepest point once again, this time injecting her with rope after rope of thick, sticky seed from a race outside of her own.

Celestia felt her higher reasoning thicken with a syrupy haze. For that moment, she was nothing more than a breeding receptacle for her master. Kessen grunted and shivered. It was a subtle hint of his appreciation, and it brought a small smile to his property’s lips.

The world was shut out, and in the deepest recesses of Princess Celestia’s heart, she had found a small victory. In the new order, she could at least allow herself to enjoy such treatment.