A Little Vice

Where did the time go? Already four hours have passed since we woke, and now we’re preparing to have lunch in Whitemane’s garden terrace overlooking Equestria’s distant mountainous borders.

Yet here I am, sharing stories with Fleur de Lis as though she were old friends with both Whitemane and I. She certainly is charming, I will admit that. Her laugh and smile are true, her eyes are brighter than when we’d met last night, and her magic is expertly playing with my scrotum beneath the table as though it weren’t a challenge at all.

Balancing a teacup and playing with my stallion parts so effortlessly is quite the skill. I, for one, am thankful to see her magical aura when I look down, yet dissatisfied that my rod chooses to ignore my conscious commands and is fighting to show itself.

They’re laughing, what are they laughing at? What was said?! Was it at my expense? At something I said or did?

I laugh with them, more to play along than any other reason. The laughter dies down and we eat our salads and I let my magic slip beneath her tail when she’s not expecting it. She hops to her hooves and spits tea while squeaking. Whitemane and I wince and turn away in reaction even though it doesn’t come near us. We look back to see her hurriedly dabbing a napkin across her muzzle and beginning to apologize. Whitemane frowns and looks to me as my ears fall.

“So, you think it’s funny to violate a mare at a luncheon, do you?” He asks. I tremble slightly. He was a fighter that I couldn’t best when we were colts, but perhaps now I could… “Ah-hah!” He bursts into laughter and looks at the blushing mare, starting to dab the table. “I can see why, she’s certainly a catch.

“Tell me, Fancy. Where’d you find such a succulent piece of fruit in such an over catered buffet as Canterlot?”

His teeth are as eerily white as his mane is long and flowing. I look to Fleur and we both look to Whitemane.

“Outside my home, we bumped into each other and it just happened that we both needed company, so—”

“Ah, so the rumors of you becoming a whore were true then?” He casually asks Fleur and the three of us fall silent, the napkin drops to the table and my rod sheathes itself. All humor of the moment prior gone. “Please, Fleur, sit,” he tells her in a way that even I couldn’t scoff at. “I know your family. Good ponies, on the outside.

“But,” he lifts a glass of wine to his lips and sips in the ensuing silence, “their penchant for hunting for the best deals has made them enemies in certain circles. You were wise to leave, and to find such a kind stallion as Fancy Pants here. If you’re willing to make your relationship public, I can cover the whole ‘run away’ tale with white lies.”

I sigh and lower my head. “In exchange for what, your highness?” I ask.

He keeps his eyes on her. “For little that would affect you, Fancy. Just have Fleur here see me once a week and we’ll call it even. What say you, Fleur?” he drinks the rest of the wine in his glass then offers a cheeky grin. “Will you be willing to do that?”

She looks between us and nods before I can offer a counter suggestion. “Yes, I can do that. But I have my own condition,” she has our attention, “whatever happens in Fancy Pants’ home, stays in that home. You have to make sure to keep me separate from my family, and quash any rumors you hear about us.”

If I wasn’t sitting already, I’d have fallen to my flank. My jaw hangs slack while I look between the two of them. He smiles first, then she does. “We have an accord. Fancy, what’re you staring at, old chap? Open the wine, we must celebrate our new deal! And for Celestia’s sake, Merriweather! Fresh plates and first course, mare!”

He shouts at the pegasus maid like the military commander he wanted to be. I recall briefly that when we were colts his dream was to be a sailor. However, his mother would have none of that nonsense, so he stayed in the family business of being royalty. Whatever they actually do as royalty is lost on me, but they have bits to spare, so I shan’t complain.

Ah, the gates at last. “It was so nice to see you this day, Whitemane. If Blueblood ever wakes, wish him well from me,” I bow to the royal pony, even though it’s not called for with our level of friendship.

“Yes, yes, he stays awake all evening and sleeps all day. The lazy bugger is certainly his mother’s child,” Whitemane quips and bows his horn slightly to me.

“Yes, I remember what he did on some of those nights,” Fleur says into her hoof, meekly.

“Ah-hah! A mare of chance, indeed,” he laughs heartily and raises a foreleg to her, offering her a hug goodbye. “Fleur, I look forward to our agreement for years to come,” he whispers in her ear and she nods before backing away from him.

I couldn’t care less if she ruts him on the floor of the royal throne room with Princess Celestia herself watching in shock – as long as it keeps my home safe, this mare can do almost what she pleases. I look at Pascal, the pathetic mudder thinks he has me in the frog of his hoof. With a smile I reassure him of my ignorance and I turn to leave with Fleur just beside me choosing to trot instead of ride the short distance to the main gate.

“That was fun, Fancy. I enjoyed myself, but I hope I didn’t go too far making that arrangement. It just seemed too good an opportunity to pass up,” she says taking my pace as we leave slightly faster than usual.

“A whole morning, and part of the afternoon, with a royal family, and that’s all you have to say?” I ask, more relaxed than before speeding to a canter to leave the estate. “Fleur, you may have saved me from quite the scandal in the future just now. If you wish, you may stay in my home indefinitely, especially with your family on the decline.”

“Yeah, about that,” she says and leans in closer. It’s not needed as the streets are not as busy at nearly three in the afternoon, but I understand her apprehension. “I don’t want to have a sexually-based relationship with you if you don’t want one. I mean, I know I was a mare of the night, but fate seems to have other plans for us, right?” she asks more than tells.

She’s as uncertain of what to do as I am.

I stop and look into her eyes. She does have pretty eyes. “Fleur, I don’t know what is planned, and Celestia knows what’s going to happen next? All I know is that we’re in a fine arrangement at the moment and I would like to keep it that way. Whatever you or I do, however, shouldn’t be to bring prying eyes into any areas that there needn’t be.”

“What do you mean? You’re a celebrity, actor and philanthropist. Everything you do is under prying eyes.”

I laugh to the sky as she’s quite observant. “Yes, indeed I am. But that’s public. It’s our private lives, the lives we live behind closed doors and shuttered windows that must be kept private. Whitemane, for example,” I pause to let her register what I said and a slight blush on her cheeks indicates she has an idea of what I’m going to say, “has no mother, nor a maid or nanny he trusts. His own wife won’t spare him the time of day in private.”

I start walking again and she keeps up while looking bashfully at the ground beneath us. “A marriage of profit and convenience, typical. So, I’m to be his mistress?”

I chuckle. “Not quite. He has enough mares and stallions for his carnal needs. No, you will most likely be more of a mother to him.” She looks at me with utter confusion. “Yes, you will read him a story, take a bath with him on occasion to make sure he’s clean, tuck him into bed with a kiss goodnight. You know, matronly tasks that he can no longer afford outsiders knowing of.”

“Oh, and how do you know this?”

“I was his matron for a while,” pause for effect. Oh, I can’t! I burst into jovial laughter at her expression. “Nay, mare, nay. I wouldn’t take on such a task for anypony, least of all him. No,” I chuckle, “we go back to our youth in friendship. I know things about him, as he knows about me, that we needn’t say to know or dare to share.”

“Ohh, that’s why you were so okay with him practically asking me to mate with him on the throne room floor while Celestia watched without batting an eye? You clever cad, you.”

I stumble over my hooves and look at her. She’s smiling like nothing just happened. Can she read my mind? How is it she came to the same conclusion that I had, mere hours ago? I shall not indulge such thoughts, I must focus. I have a game to play with my friend Pascal, this weekend. That’s four days away. I have to practice, and this mare has given me all the coverage I need to practically flay that stallion open in my front lawn.

“You’re smiling pretty big, Mister Pants. What’s on your mind?” Fleur asks me.

“Oh, just how well we’re getting along and the opportunities that can be brought to fruition.”

“You mean ‘bought’,” she smiles and nuzzles my neck. “With my family in declining popularity my portion of the fortune will be passed to me quickly before the others get their grubby hooves on it. So we’ll have some extra spending bits, for fun.”

That does sound nice. I’m at no shortage of bits, but to go out and not have to register the expenses will be nice. “How many bits are we talking? A couple thousand, perhaps?”

She giggles. “Thirteen thousand, eight hundred, twenty-two. That’s how much I inherited from my great uncle’s passing.”

I stumble again. This mare is that wealthy? I believe I’m in a good place and indeed the fates have smiled upon us both. Why, with her inheritance I needn't worry of her borrowing from me for at least a decade. A decade she can live in decadence.

Home at last. The walk home took longer because we had to stop and buy some odds and ends for my new housemate. I believe we can share the same bed, but we do need some more femininity in the home to convince others. An armoire or two to begin and more to be purchased in the near future.

I’ve bid her a brief adieu and have retired to my study, an elegant room with bookcases filled with books on every subject to choose from. However the only one that catches my eye is the pony anatomy book I now possess in my magic and am looking through.

This is quite the find, yet difficult to comprehend in its own way. Why are all the words in pony Latin? Why can’t a leg be a leg and not ‘an extremity’, who thought of this format? If it wasn’t for the detailed images and worded lines pointing to the parts, I’d never know what a mandible was, or a patella.

I close the book and set it aside, listening for any nearby ponies. With a sigh I drink the last of my stout and take the book with me to the kitchen, then to the door to the basement. I needn’t make sure I’m not followed, they all know that this is my private place.

They have no idea what I do, but they know that I’m in a better mood afterwards, and that’s all I ask for. That, and a stray cat a week.

I close the door and descend the stairs into the basement proper and turn right. I need no light as I’ve taken this path more times to count to the door against the far wall. With my horn alit I cast a spell only I know to unlock and open the door to my play room. The scent of cat, in all its glory, makes itself known to my senses.

Urine in the litter box has turned quite unwell and stinks the room in its pungent aroma. I hear a meowing from the distance, reverberating off the walls to reach my ears. I close and seal the door quickly and cast a spell, lighting several candles against the walls to bring life to the room. A surgical table highlights the center of the room.

I smile as I approach it and look at its pristine, polished, chrome beauty. The sturdy support structure was designed to hold three times the weight of the average pony and the surface I replaced with ironwood, topped with stainless steel. A thing of beauty.

As long as I’m careful I can keep it this way for the rest of my life, and perhaps bequeath it to somepony with my tastes. I hear there’s a mare in a nearby town that enjoys a little fun similar to mine. I must find her someday, and compare notes on how to kill a cat.

I listen for the meowing again and begin to look around the relatively sterile room. It’s brick walls coated with gems to prevent sound and smell from leaving its confines and its depth nearly large enough to fit a common family of four, I sometimes think I’ve taken too much space for such a small hobby.

The tables and cabinets against the walls are spaced apart and placed almost haphazardly so. Unlike my life they are in disarray. Each drawer and cubby contains a sharp object, or other device of torture I’ve come across from the red light alley. Mostly designed for sexual pleasures they serve their purpose in many other ways.

I cast a spell to hush the clopping of my hooves as I locate the feline, hiding under a cabinet with its eyes nearly black from the darkness it hides in. It’s almost reptile slits of eyes narrow when I come into view and it hisses at me. Its tabby colored coat almost mixing with the floor and brick wall it's pressed against. I reach my hoof to it but it doesn’t like that, so it begins its violent defending of itself against my magic, to no avail, as I move it to the table and lay it on its back.

Taking strips of rope I’ve improvised as straps I tie its limbs down and leave it splayed like an ‘x’, fighting and making the most disturbing noises as I disrobe. I can’t have blood on my attire without fantastical reasoning or injuring myself. And I prefer not to cut myself again as a coverup, it hurts like the dickens.

Taking a very sharp surgical blade – a scalpel, I believe they’re called – from my favorite drawer, I trot happily over to the table and look at the feline furiously fighting for freedom and stare at it until it looks at me and hisses again.

“Oh, do behave, you haven’t a chance to escape in the world.”

Taking some twine I tie it against the shoulder of the limb I’m going to start against before I bring the blade to its right leg and drag said blade from elbow to paw and the feline screams, thrashing at the bonds and practically spits at me. I move to the other side of the table and use my magic to press the leg down as I bring the blade to the layer of fat just beneath the flesh and begin to gently slice along the opening I’ve made. The tourniquet holds fine.

“Ah, doctor, a nice incision,” I compliment myself as I tune out the noises the feline makes and focus my strokes of the scalpel around the leg as far as I can, then lifting the leg I cut the cat’s leg around to continue my efforts, all the while it struggles against me.

“Relax, we’ve only just begun,” I reassure it. I continue until I completely flay the flesh from its owner and look at my work. Save for the first incision where I cut too deep by a mere fraction, I can see the workings of the limb moving ever so slightly and the loss of blood is at a minimum. “Aww, who’s a strong kitty? You are, yes you are!”

I smile as the cat looks at me as though it would kill me if it were freed and move to the other side to repeat the task. I chuckle, a bit darkly to be honest, as I look at the red limbs of the frantic feline and begin on it’s hind legs. I hear it’s voice starting to hush to a whisper as it’s screaming has taken its toll, but it still squeaks at me, begging me to stop.

Unable to scream its eyes now plead as I expose it’s thighs and hold the strips of flesh and fur side of their respective limbs so I can continue my work.

“You’re such a good kitty! Look at your nice coat and how well you’ve taken care of it. For a stray you have high standards, and I can respect that.”

I now bring the scalpel to it’s chest and rend flesh from ribs in broad, even strokes from the center to the right side, then center to left side and glide the blade just below the skin making nary a mistake as I watch it's ribs rise and fall.

The creature suddenly stops its vocalizations and relaxes. It’s already accepted its fate? I’ll have none of that!

I turn my head to look at the many cabinets and smirk as I recall which one has the acid. A mild acid of ocean water and lye. I take a dab of the putty, enough to bring life back into the little beast. I apply the putty onto it’s left limb and it awakes with a jolt and squeaks in pain, arching its back and tearing slightly at the opening I’ve made in its chest.

I take a hoof and pet its head, cooing to it. A few seconds later it calms slightly as the pain dulls, but it’s eyes beg for the mercy of death. “It shan’t be so quick, good kitty, fair kitty, kitty with so much strength. Nice kitty, loud kitty, skinless kitty with my shank.”

What an amusing word. Shank is slum vernacular I’ve picked up in my dealings at the jail. The sergeant always warns me to be wary of anypony getting too close or I’ll get ‘shanked’. Why not stabbed, or impaled?

I untie the animal and turn it over, it’s exposed chest and belly press to the cold chrome and it hisses in pain. I smirk again as I bring the blade to its left side and lift the flap of skin I’ve so carefully cut away so far and begin to filet the rest off, only to forget that I hadn’t tied the tail down and it’s far more useful at this angle.

A swipe of its tail distracts me and I cut too deep. Blood pours heavily from the wound and I jerk the blade up into the perfectly removed flesh from the inside, ruining it, and I frown. “Stupid cat! Why would you do that and make me ruin such great work?!” I shout and grab its head, twisting it to face me against its wishes. “You ruined my work on your foul little body! Now I’ve wasted time, time is not free, cat,” I spit into its face and pull it closer to me when I hear its neck snap.

It goes limp, the blood slows from the wound as I glare into its empty eyes. It's mouth still moves and some meaningless noises escape while I stare into it's eyes.

At least I got to watch it die. I drop it from my magic and look at myself with reverence. Not a drop of blood on me from hoof to horn. One of my better works, if I do say so myself. I call a large wood saw over and, just for fun, cut the cat into thirds.

I take a moment to remove the rest of the skin and look it over. I won't wear torn garments so I wrap the cats meat in it's flesh. I am disappointed, though. I typically wear the coat of the animal under my clothes for the rest of the evening. With it ruined, I have no such luxury.

“I’ll feed you to the sewers and whatever may live in them,” I say taking the carcass and it’s ruined hide to the door and I stop, listening intently for any noise beyond. After a long minute I open the door with my spell and exit quickly, making it to the grate at the far wall and I drop the cat into it. A barely noticeable blurb in the steady water stream that makes up our sewage system and its over.

Another night, another cat. The next one will have to be more tamed, and for the sake of everything, must I make a habit of forgetting the tail? Next time that comes off first.

“Fancy Pants?” Fleur calls from the top of the stairs. Her voice is like a train in my ears from the near deathly silence and my heart jumps into my throat as I stumble forward in the dark and into a shelf of unknown objects. The subsequent smashing and clatter is enough to wake everypony in the house as I scramble to close the door to my playroom, lest anypony sees inside.

I cast my magic out several times as I try to get to my hooves, or just to stop falling, when I see the room light up in a blue hue. Not my blue, it’s Fleur’s… and she’s looking at me with worry. The light helps to calm me down so I stop moving like a newborn foal and I relax slightly.

“What in Celestia’s name are you doing down here in the dark?! Are you hurt?” she asks as she approaches. I cast my spell to close and seal the doorway to my room just before she glances to follow my gaze. “Why are you looking at the wall? Are you seeing spots? Talk to me, darling.”

She’s at the base of the stairs and talking to me like a mother would a foolish colt, not panicking like a traditional mare would. I feel as though I am about to be scolded.

Her magic takes hold of me and lifts me to my hooves as voices start shouting from the top of the stairs and ponies begin to file down, gawking at the mess I’ve made and the bashful look on my face.

“I– apologize all. It seems the light left me and I stumbled into quite the slapstick routine. Pure Drops, be a dear and help me to my chambers, I shan’t be organizing anymore this evening.” My pegasi butler flies over and helps me walk through the mess while the several ponies make a path for me to ascend the stairs. “Fleur, will you accompany me?”

“In a moment, I must find your clothes.” My mane prickles in fear at the implication of her finding them.

“I threw them away!” I shout too loudly, garnering too much attention. “I, discarded them since I was with the prince today; I can’t be seen wearing the same outfit again. It’s in the sewage system and gone now.”

There’s a tense silence as all look at me, and Fleur shrugs. “You could have at least donated them to the less fortunate, that would have been the kinder thing to do. But, it is what it is. So let’s leave this place and let the help clean up the mess while we get the stress of this off your withers.”

“Ah, yes, indeed. I think a bath is welcome.”

“Yes, you smell faintly of cat, and I’m not fond of felines. They’re such filthy creatures, I prefer fish. They’re always bathing.”

Odd, I feel for her as I did my mother, before her passing that is. Is this a spark of affection, or merely desire to find another cat? Bah, time will tell.

As we sit here in the bath I have even more time to think about that darn cat. The warm water, the scent of patchouli, the mare that’s trying her best to arouse me. It’s not but a distant candle in the dark recesses of my mind.

I wanted so badly to feel that cat’s coat upon my back, yet it had to ruin my work. To feel the warmth of its body as it slowly died while I held it to my cheek. I did watch the life leave its eyes, so that was a little joy. Oh my, that certainly got the old boy moving. Perhaps focusing on what went right will arouse my desires.

“Oh, you like when I do that, do you? Let me try again.”

What the blazes? Oh, right, Fleur is trying quite hard to have sex with me. Why is she so… oh no. “Wait a tick, darling. You’re not, in estrus are you?”

She stops and looks at me, her body floating lazily in the water. Her mane and tail moving with the waves. She removes my flare from her mouth and swallows whatever she’d gotten from me. “No, that was last month. Why? Do you want me to pretend to be? ‘Oh, mighty stallion. Fill mine cavity with thy seed so we may sow your mighty fields within me.’”

I look sardonically at her. “Quoting Shakesmare? And not even properly, I do say,” I turn my nose up at her. I wish to play a game of who’s better, but I feel her mouth on my rod again. Her magic is rubbing my anus in a unique way, not bad if I must admit. The image of the cat’s eyes flashes through my mind and I shutter.

She mumbles a laugh around my stallionhood and becomes more enthusiastic in her efforts. I shouldn’t disappoint her, so while she does her work I cast a spell to help replay the memory of the cats final moment. It’s such a sweet sight, to watch the eyes of a playmate widen ever so slightly. The pupils dilate, the final breath is exhaled and the body goes limp.

Oh, yes… that’s it, look into the eyes of your cat, Fancy Pants, look… into… the… “Eyes!” I shout as I release into her mouth a torrent of seed. She swallows it all without missing a beat like a baby at the teat, and I can tell she’s hungry for more as she licks my shaft of some she missed. “You’re practically a carnivore, with all the meat you’ve been eating.”

“Oh, and why did you shout ‘eyes’? Have you finally noticed mine?” she kisses me on the lips and lets her tongue slide from her mouth to mine. It’s salty.

“Ah, my dear, I fell into your eyes at lunch today. I don’t wish to surface any time soon.”

She gushes for a moment and stands as tall as she can in the deep tub we’re in, then strikes a model’s pose. “I think you’re swimming in the right river, Fancy. Keep talking like that and I might fall for you.”

With a shake of her head she takes her soaked wet mane and flips it into the air, sending water cascading over her with a pink hue that rivals the morning sun. I feel affection for her, drat. I was hoping it was the desire for another cat. I must keep my wits about me, for one slipup and she could take me for all I have.

“That move’s called ‘Rain from the plain mane’. Did you like it?”

“Quite impressive, Fleur. Now, I don’t mean to be a wet blanket, but do you think we can wash, or shall we continue to have sex and model for one another?”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Fine, you model and have sex with me next.” She moves beside me and drapes her fetlocks over the tub edge, rests her chin on her fetlock, and moans. “Sex first, I’ve had a long day.”

I can’t deny her this, as it was her, just a moment ago, who helped me release. I resist the sigh and smile, looking at her relaxed nature. I shouldn’t just hop on and rush, she seems to be a mare that can outlast me, so I should play and tease her. Be a bit of the alpha male, as t’were.

I move beside her and rest my neck on hers, moving slowly to her head I bite her ear playfully. “What are you-- Stop that!” she giggles at my third nip. Her ears are flat against her head and she tries to move, but my magic has her in place. “Okay, let me up. Not funny, Fancy.”

I won’t say a word unless I must, as my mind's eye is still replaying that exciting image from earlier I feel the rush returning. I bite her neck lightly, just behind her jaw and she yelps. “Fancy, really, what are you doing to me?”

I drape my right foreleg over her back and apply pressure, forcing her barrel deeper into the water as I lick where I bit her, then bite her in the same spot. She gasps passionately. “Fancy, I-I’m afraid. What’re you doing to me?” she asks breathily.

Has no pony dominated her? How can this be? It’s commonplace, or so I thought. “I’m doing to you what you didn’t know you needed done.”

I use my magic to lift her tail until it’s as out of the water as it can be, then I give her tail a twist. I sneer as she jumps from the suddenness of it, but I hold the twist as she whimpers. “Fancy, it hurts, what you’re doing. Please stop.”

I relent and opt to bend her tail to her back. When she squirms I stop and hold it in place and let her barrel go from my weight. I move around her and look into the targets of my affection. Her rump is moving, trying to stop the uncomfortable tug of her tail in the wrong direction. I can tell she’s also curious as to what I’ll do next.

She’s whimpering like a sad puppy, only I can’t flay and vivisect her. Too many ponies would notice, especially after today. I instead choose to run my tongue from the bottom of her vulva to the base of her tail. She shutters at the sensation, so I begin to do it regularly.

I’m not too fond of anal play, but I must admit I can be quite insatiable when a vagina is on my muzzle.

My memory spell ends and I have to recall a puppy, any puppy, I’ve played with. From the time I remove its paw to the time I cut its beating heart from its chest thrills me and I feel my libido screaming at me to mount her, to release the excitement that’s building within, again.

I send my tongue inside her white lips instead, pressing my muzzle into her body slightly, but enough so that I can feel the fur on my muzzle getting wet from what I’m doing to her. I keep on, relentless, regardless of the noises she makes and the pleading for me to finish her off.

I retract my tongue from her body and her legs nearly fail her. I release her tail and mount her, she’s at the peak. I could all but feel her orgasm, yet she resists. I enter her body with my rod and thrust as deep as nature will allow and she screams in pleasure.

I begin to fuck her like the naughty mare she is, the mare who was until yesterday a whore for hire. My magic restraining her tightens as she fights to turn and kiss me or look at me, sending her into a primal state of passion that has her bouncing her hind, rubbing her clit against the base of my rod.

With each thrust she’s drawn closer to the edge, and I with her. I feel her tighten around me, a gush of fluids sprays my underbelly and I know she’s climaxed. The cat’s eyes, the puppy’s whimpers. I pass the edge more mightily than before, and I roar a neigh like a pony going into battle, our primal senses making us whinney like fools.

Her legs collapse and if I hadn’t had her in my grip she’d have fallen under the surface of the water. Still nestled deeply within her body I heave her out of the tub and watch as my seed spills from her winking hole. I didn’t know I could make that much.

I lay her on the floor beside the tub and climb out to join her. She’s out of breath, as am I. We’re both extremely tired now, as well. I chuckle. “I’ve never had sex in the bathroom, but I may have to do this again.”

She moves her head and nuzzles me. “A stallion of great skill in bed, bath, and beyond.”

“Indeed,” I smile and kiss the top of her head. I shakily take to my hooves and walk carefully to the door and open it to call out to Grew Withers only to see half my evening staff looking at me in embarrassment and shock. “Away with you all! Peeping is not acceptable in this house, you’re all docked two hours pay!

“Grey Withers?! You as well? Fetch us some robes and for Celestia’s sake, get a maid to bring a mop for the floors out here! Filthy commoners,” I mumble. How dare they leak arousal in my hallways.

“Y-yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

Fleur giggles behind me. “A stallion of great skill and authority.”

A few minutes later we’re standing on the balcony of my room, overlooking the hills and sky for distant northern Equestria. With her standing the way she is, the sunlight flows through her mane and breaks like a thousand shards of sugar glass. I could just nibble them forever.

“What?” she asks, as I notice she’s looking at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Ah, uh, hm.” Eloquent as always, Fancy. “I was just taken in by your beauty for a moment. I meant no offense.”

She hums acceptingly. “It was always my dream to be a model, or to do something special to show my grace to the lesser ponies of Equestria. Then, for a while I was a lesser pony. In the past day you’ve shown me more kindness than any other pony in the past year. Thank you, Fancy Pants.”

“I must admit, I’m taken a bit by surprise. I thought for certain you were a model before you had a falling out with your family. Regardless, if you’d like, I know several popular photographers and can have you model for them. You know, to see if you have what they’re looking for in a model.”

“Oh, would you really?!” she hugs me suddenly, “I’d never be able to repay your kindness.”

“It’s all well and good. A simple eight percent commission will suffice, down from the usual ten.”

She giggles and backs up. “Deal,” she raises a fetlock. I kiss it with grace and turn to watch the hills in the distance. Pegasi flitter here and there, but nothing breaks the beauty of the moment I’m sharing with this vexing mare that has certainly caught my eye.

“Let’s watch the sun as it sets, then have supper in the kitchen.”

“In the kitchen? Not in the grand hall, or something?”

“No, I’ll be honest; the food seems better where it’s made, rather than where it sits in wait for us.”

“I, guess that makes sense. I can’t dismiss an idea before I’ve tried it.” I smirk in thought of her letting me peel the skin from muscle along the right side of her face. “Oh, more naughty thoughts?”

“Ah, something like that, Darling, something like that.”

The setting sun casts its color red as blood. I do look forward to playing again, soon.a