A Little Vice

by Mochas Dungeon

Rating: mature
Tags: Romance, Drama, Original Character, Fetish, Horror, Violence, Fancypants, Sex, Fleur de Lis, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Death
Length: 47371

"Every pony needs a way to unwind, mine happens to be with a sharp blade against flesh." With love blooming and a dark secret well hidden, Fancy Pants is in for an interesting week.

Lord Fancy Pants. Celebrity, philanthropist, an idol to many, and friend to the highest nobility in Canterlot.
Fleur de Lis. A mare on her own, having taken leave of her family after an argument and stubbornness, now alone on the streets of Canterlot.

A love story that seems fitting given their status, however, what lies beneath the surface of one of their lives would shake the very foundations of pony society to its core. With Fleur and Fancy falling in love, where will the future take them, and more importantly where will Fancy Pants' loyalties lie?

What are Fancy Pants' secrets, what of the pony behind the monocle?
Is he truly just a noblepony, spending money and living freely?
How does he live and unwind when nopony is watching or judging?
What thoughts or feelings does he have?
How does he cope with his secret life, the life he lives when alone and nopony is watching?

Set before season 1, episode 1 and builds on the ship between Fancy and Fleur.

Chapters with a (g) are gore.
Chapters with a (c) are sex inclusive.

Huge thanks to my team!
Kalash93
Deltablaze22
and my artist
Cover art by Pillowrabbit. He can be found Here and Here and to a much lesser degree, Here.

Published 2017-06-26 19:00:06 UTC
Last updated 2017-08-31 15:00:56 UTC

Chapter 1 (c)

What can I say about myself? I like the finer things in life. Wine, croquet with my friends, wearing the latest fashion trends, conversing with those around me. I also dream of watching blood as it drains from the bodies of its owners.

Today is like so many others, thanks to the princesses and second class pegasi.

I won't get started on the lowest of the peasantry, but you know of them, the mud ponies. So very few are worthy of being called third class, yet they live amongst us like it's a right and not a privilege.

I'm trotting along the thoroughfare, thoroughfare, thoroughfare. Trotting along the thoroughfare so early in the morning.
A song to pass the time, something that does rhyme. I clop my hooves on the street and rhyme a song to the beat.

I love my life and I love my friends. I love to watch as lives come to an end. I love to smell their blood in the air, I like it when they sing to me. I wish it would never end, that's why I begin again.

La, la, la, la, la… bum, bum.

"Hello, good day. You look lovely, is that a new hat?" I interact with ponies as I go by. I see them smile at me, and it warms my heart to make them happy. Oh, great, I sigh but maintain my poise. Here comes Sunflare, the one poor splotch on my cheerful morning.

This pegasus mare can be annoying to new heights every time our paths cross. I smile, small, yet forced. "Sunflare! How are you today?" Please, fly away.

"I'm good, buddy! Why, if I was any better you'd… uh, really know it without having to ask," she says jovially to me and laughs. I laugh in return. "I'm in such a good mood, I tell ya, it's in my blood today. Nothing can bring me down."

My mind's eye imagines her veins and arteries pumping blood through her body, and my horn resting through her ribs and inside where her heart would be.

I blink and smile wider. "That's good to hear, friend! Say, I do have to get to my friend's house, but it was nice talking with you. And do stay in this chipper mood, it's quite infectious," I say as I move past her and make it halfway past her body before I see her turn.

"Can I come along? I'm not busy and would love to share the good news with everypony," she asks in an uncouth manner I've come to expect. I wince and turn back, smiling still.

"I'm afraid not, personal gathering and all."
"But I'm pregnant, surprise!" she beams at me. I smile wider and she sees it in my eyes this time.

"Oh my, darling! That's amazing, how far along are you?"

"Four months! I didn't even know, but I have to tell everypony. It's the greatest time of my life," she replies to me happily. Now I know why she's chipper this morning, and the past couple months as well.

I guess I can forgive her annoyances in light of such good news. "I say, we must tell others, indeed. Private party or not, you're coming with me as my guest." I reach and grab around her neck. She doesn't resist as I pull her into a hug and nuzzle her slightly. Being this close I can smell the change in her, however slight.

Pregnant mares do smell sweeter…

She pulls me out of my brief mental respite with a shoulder bump, I look at her and smile. It is a great thing to bring life into this world.

Harmony and balance must be maintained, it's a fact of the world we live in.

I look to the cobblestone streets below my hooves and listen closely as my shoes clack and clatter along with a dozen others. The sounds drowning into a miasmic pool of sharp sound, punctuated with the occasional stomp or scratch from a conversation.

The rolling sounds from the wheels of a cart snap me from my reverie.

I look up and over to see a twice lesser pony, earth and poverty-stricken, pulling a cart loaded with waste from a business. I really wish they'd find a better path to take than to haul that filth down the main street. This is the fourth district, not some slum. I smile to the stallion and nod as he passes, returning my gesture with a goofy, snaggletoothed smile.

Inbred hick.

"Are you okay, Fancy Pants?" Sunflare asked me. "You look a little upset. It's a weird look on you."

"Ah, I'm well enough, dear. So, tell me, do you know the father, or is it a lucky passerby?" I ask her jovially. Mares like her, they go into estrus and mate with anypony that'll fill their needs. No selection, choice breeding, arranged matings, or deliberate matches to keep bloodlines strong.

No, such mares are just tail-lifters, and good ones at that. Lower ponies deserve weak family lines. Maybe they'll learn their place and leave our fair city to the top of the herds? Unlikely, but one can hope.

"Oh, it was a stallion I've known for years. He's proud to be the father and said he'll stay with me, no matter what happens. He's the kindest, sweetest pony ever, and–"
Great, she's on a rant about how great this sperm donor is.

I see the gates to Hillshire Place; once there, I can pawn Sunflare off and onto somepony else while I mingle and socialize with those who matter.

Oh no, I just remembered this is a higher class event only. I hope somepony else brought a lower with them.

I keep my trained smile on as Sunflare talks. The cobblestone turns to brick and the sounds change to clunky clops as my steel shoes meet them while the stench clears up from a horde of ponies to calm, quiet, trimmed grasses and fresh water. The sounds of water bubbling in fountains and ponies in the distance talking begin to tickle my ears.

"–and then we talked about where we'd retire and we thought some place south would be nice, by the beach. With his career, it should be easy to save the bits to start over out there."

"Ah, a wonderful plan for a life well lived. Here we are," I say as we reach the gate. A bodyguard is standing, asking ponies for their invitations. I remove mine from my coat pocket and wait in line, only a couple good ponies ahead of me, us. "Here you are, good sir. Fancy Pants, plus one."

He looks at the invitation and I hope he denies her, but with a nod, he returns the paper to my magic and I nod to the guard. "Come along, dear, I must introduce you to several ponies who will be positively overjoyed to hear of your condition."

I lead her to the gardens and sigh as I'm announced and eyes turn to me in classic fashion. There are only unicorns; not a single lower class pony here. At least Sunflare is wearing a seasonal dress and scarf.

"Good day, fellow ponies," I say cheerfully. I move to a group of ponies that have resumed their conversation. I join in and intentionally neglect my guest long enough to notice her looking around at the other groups and gauging where to go. "I say, this is my guest, Sunflare. A mare of her own making in the, uh, what industry was it?" I ask.

"I'm a barista," she says, with slight apprehension. There's a round of laughs at her expense. "No, really. I work at Wake Up, Filly. It's in district six," she goes from normal to a more hushed voice as eyes turn to her from other conversations. Shrinking slightly, she apologizes and bows her head. "I... think I should be going. This really isn't my kind of party."

"Oh, why of course, dear," I say, "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable. I do hope to see you again and tell me of your development," I smile and turn back to the group I am now with. I hear her leave with a slight haste to her clops before she flaps her wings and flies away. Inside myself, I feel a slight joy to not be associated with her this evening.

The night drags on, conversations of politics, princesses, taxes, levies, and even fashion take up our evening. A round of croquet, billiards, and some classic dancing round out the evening. The hors d'oeuvres are fine enough, but I wish they had more of a meaty texture to them. Mushrooms, I mean.

Vegetable sandwiches, puff pastries, mini kebabs. It's becoming so meaningless. So one note about these parties is that, if I were not a noble and expected, nay, required to attend, I'd stay home and read my books.

I have come across a fascinating medical book on pony anatomy. It has diagrams and charts, detailing our anatomy in ways and words I never imagined. Near the back of said book, I've even found some spells to alter a pony's body chemistry for surgery or stasis.

I have a friend in the medical field and have, as of two days ago, procured a large shipment of various enchanted items and medicines. I told him I'd be donating them to various royal regiments and towns across Equestria to aid in the recovery of monster attacks...

In truth, I have many stockpiled in my home for... personal usage. A stallion must be allowed a vice or two.

The party comes to a close at nearly three in the morning and I am ready for a respite. So much socializing can be taxing, and I have been taxed. I leave and make my way home, posthaste, avoiding the stallions of the night to my estate. A unicorn mare propositions me outside my gates and I ignore her. It's such a shame to see one of my kind at such a low level.

She curses me after I pass and I look back to sneer – one does not insult nobility – then I trip on an uneven stone and barely catch myself. She laughs at my folly and, had I the energy of the day, I would have invited her in for tea and some snacks. She wouldn't be missed.

"I say, you old nag, hadn't you be off to the slums, where ponies look for your kind?" I snark.

"Why, when I see my kind before me?"
I am taken aback. Surely she doesn't consider me a common, sex driven pauper. Or, perhaps, she shares some unicorn pride, for such a lowly employed mare.

"What's your name?" I ask, turning to face her.

"Fleur De Lis, wanna ride?" she asks, with a sultriness to her voice. Her tail lifts.

Normally a mare of such airs would repulse me, but there's something about her. "I do not wish for a ride, however, would you care for a spot of tea and a warm bed to sleep in for the evening?"

She's cautious but accepts my offer. I lead her inside my home and am upset right away, Grey Withers isn't there to greet me and disrobe me of my coat. Must I do everything myself? I remove my coat and hang it upon the rack just inside the door. I must have a chat with Grey Withers, but it shall wait until the morrow.

With a deep yawn, I announce my intentions. "Terrible sorry, dear, but I must put the tea on hold. Would you care to join me in my chambers for platonic rest?"

"Uh, sure. I... don't see why not," she responds, her ears are perked and alert.
"Fear not, darling. I shan't take advantage of you," I yawn, showing my need for rest, "nor shall you come to harm. Follow me," I say as I turn and walk down my plush carpeted entryway to the second-floor stairs and ascend. Listening, I hear her hoofsteps behind me, almost too far behind. I look back to see her admiring my home.

"Do you have any questions?"

"Oh, no, I'm just..." she pauses to think. A mare that thinks is a nice change. "I grew up in district five. My family has a house like this," she admits, still alert and guarded.

"Oh? Then why, my dear, are you not there?" I inquire.

"Stubbornness of a mare, I suppose," she says, raising a hoof to brush her pink mane from her eyes. Why she doesn't just use her magic is beyond me, like most mare habits.

"Ah, yes. Quite. I see you have some common traits with me, then. I can be quite firm in my beliefs as well."

We fall into silence as we crest the stairway and I lead her to my suite. With a slight push of my magic, and the doors unlock and the right one swings open enough for me to enter, with her close behind. I shut the door quickly and hear her yelp and I smirk to myself. Maybe her leg got pinched, I hope to myself. A little blood might make this night change course.

Turning back I look and see her pouting face. "You closed the door on my tail, how unfortunate for you," she says whilst she glares at me playfully.

"Oh my, I apologize. I'm not used to others in my chambers," I apologize and open the door slightly, freeing her. I look a little too intently at her tail and she moves quicker than I expected, pressing her lips to mine.

Her magic washes over my back and I feel her caress my sheath. I lose myself in the moment and kiss her back, her magical intrusions are not lost on me, and at the deepest level, I wish to be inside her.

To bury my horn within her belly and relish as the red blinds me. Another option quickly presents itself as I feel myself relax and unsheathing. She tugs at my testes and breaks the kiss to look at me, into my eyes.

She sees my desire, but she mistakes it for something more primal and appropriate. I am no beast of base instincts. The sexual urge is a distasteful thing that should be used only for the making of young to perpetuate the species, and only then deliberately and with great care.

The urge to kill, however, is far more useful, given the general worthlessness of the common pony. I take her in my magic, tossing her.

With a giggle and squeal, she lands on my bed and goes prone like a cat about to pounce as I prance over to her. No matter the circumstances, I shan't lose my grace.

She uses her magic tug me onto the bed and before I can react, she's pounced on me, biting me playfully on the neck.

It hurts, but this is a new, good hurt. No pony has ever bitten me, but I like it. I want her to taste my blood, but she moves to another spot and bites, repeating the process lower and lower, until her bites stop at my belly.

I recall the cats I'd played with as a colt and I reel at the thought of her opening my belly and watching my innards. The fearful excitement I feel passes as my stallionhood tingles at the flare as her mouth takes it past her teeth.

The soft, supple nature of her mouth and tongue are quickly found by me as she encloses my girth with her lips and proceeds to take in a deep breath, then takes my stallionhood all the way down her throat until I feel her lips at the base.

Then, she slowly releases me from her warm, wet embrace. With a pop sound, she frees me and begins to breathe again, a long trail of saliva connecting her lips to my bouncing rod.

Not one to be outdone or to spur a deserving mare's advances, I use my magic to form a phallic shape, akin to my own piece, and when she's starting to lick my length, I insert it into her delicate folds.

I grab her with my own magic and hold her tail taut so she can't escape as I rut her like the whore she is. She doesn't resist once she knows what I'm doing, and she returns her affections to my lower self with the vigor of a crazed youth in estrus.

She quickly strips me of my clothing and tosses it aside as though it were worth as much as she, but I ignore the action for the act at hoof.

I can take no more, the scents of our efforts have clouded my mind and I must act on them. Nearly sending a rear hoof to her face, by accident, I scurry like a rodent to my hooves and move to mount her properly, and I do just that. She nickers in excitement as I thrust, thrust, thrust, and on the fourth try, find her opening and enter her body.

The next minute is a blur of motion and passion that have me feeling like a young colt again, learning the ways of sex with my fillyfriend at the time, loving the sensation of it all.

I feel myself release a week's worth of seed, stress, and frustration inside of her velveteen embrace, filling her hot body, flooding upon her waiting womb. I grunt like an animal, crazed in the moment, and I bite her with intent to draw blood, even though I am unable to with these flat teeth of mine.

The pleasure becomes too much and I lock myself hilt deep inside her, riding out my orgasm until it fades.

Panting, I fall from her and thank her as I fall instantly into a light slumber. The toll of the day has taken its course, and with this act of release, I have spent my last ounce of energy. I wake once more by the sounds of squishing and moaning from the very mare I just sent to blissful rest with me.

These dreams are most welcome, and I swear I can hear her climax as I fall into deep slumber again. Pride wells within me, because I was able to cause her to do that, even in my sleep.

A small bird chirps outside my window upon my balcony, rousing me. I grab the nearest item I can and throw it at the incessant noise machine with intent to kill.

It wouldn't be the first, or last, time I've killed a bird in this mansion. The horseshoe slams against the marble railing, missing the bird and clattering to the floor with more noise than the fowl could have made in five minutes all at once.

I groan and move to lift my head, only to find a weight upon my neck. I turn and look, to see a very silken pink leg weighing heavily upon me.

Upon closer inspection, it is a white leg with pink mane covering me, haphazardly. This shan't do, so I brace, and force myself up, rolling the sleeping mare off of me and onto her side.

I look at her and feel... something…? It's uncommon for such experiences to occur within me, but I actually feel something… warm and happy…? It's a sensation I feel while in my fun room, most of all.

Perhaps it's because she was my mare of the evening, yes, that must be it. I should have her taken away by Grey Withers like the refuse she is.

I climb from the bed and to the door, opening it without regard to her snoring sleep, and leave it open as I enter the hall.

"Grey Withers? Good heavens, stallion, where were you last night?" I ask incredulously as he quickly trots up to greet me with a bow.

"I am sorry, sir," he says humbly, "I was not expecting your return last night, and had you not rung the bell, I wouldn't have known you were here today."

"Wasn't a bell, Grey Withers," I tell him, "was a shoe and a terrible bird. Now, there's a mare in my chambers that must be taken care of," I say with my nose raised in slight disgust at the thought of what I'd done and how I'd given in to my baser instincts. I had given something of mine important to a mare, now one had to give me an important fluid of their own. He nods and moves past me.

"Breakfast is ready, sir. On the table, as usual."

He's a great servant, for a third class earth pony. I should surprise him with a few extra bits in his bag this month. I'll say for helping me dispose of this mare, should he ask.

I enter my dining hall and make way to the table. Seating for twenty-seven, yet rarely used as it should be. There is a nice selection of breakfast choices and I fill a small plate to a respectable level, take a large decanter of spirits, and then my seat.

Everything is as it should be, and I like it this way. Still naked, I eat carefully, so as to not mess my recent grooming. At least, not much more than what I'd done last night with Fleur de Lis -- what a nice name.

I shake my head slightly and clear my throat. She's out of my life now. She'll find a new home, a new pony to lay with, and another the night after that.

Gah, Sweet Celestia, how much has she charged me for last evening? I should have asked her prices before I even let her enter my mansion.

I had no ill intentions and had she not taken advantage of me I would have remained richer by so many bits.

A lesson is to be learned here, but one I can not take to heart, as the needs of the flesh are always want to win out over logic and money.

Ah, I have finished my plate! Time for a second, and another drink of brandy, to aid in digestion. "Matron, where's the music this fine morning?" I call out to the head maid, hoping she's within hearing. As I fill my plate a second time, a soft hum begins to echo through the room and the vaulted ceiling reflects the acoustics just perfectly.

By the time I am sitting again, there is a quiet concert echoing through the room.

The skills of two well-trained musicians playing their instruments are certainly the best part of the morning, thus far. A content sigh escapes me as I bite into my eclair and chew slowly. The Bovarian Cream is sweet and rich, filling my palate with its delicate flavors.

A shot of brandy and it explodes into an aromatic sensation, unlike any other morning concoction, sending my mind into a frenzy as a smile crosses my muzzle.

This is what bliss is like, and I shan't give it up for anything.

*.*.*.*

I look splendid in my daily attire. I wear a full frontal suit and my tail is freshly brushed to show it's glory while distracting from my stallion parts. Now, all I must do is find an event and I shall begin my—
"Good morning, you stud."

The mare from last evening? What was her name? Flour, something. "Ah, good morning upon you, dearest. I thought Grey Withers had aided you on your way?"

"Oh, that nice third class pony?" she makes my ears perk in attention. "He was kind enough to help me to the bathing room and then to a mare that helped brush me to look like a lady, and now I'm here, ready to join you on your morning walk."

Dearest me, I must be rid of her. I can't be associated with mares of the night, it would bruise my near perfect image. "Thank you for the offer, but mustn't you eat breakfast? You look famished," I say, raising my monocle to my eye to drive the point home.

"Don't worry about me. I don't eat breakfast. A lady must maintain her figure, even at the cost of a meal or two. Mother had the matron teach me that."

Dash it all, she piques my interest again! A fine lady, she seems to be. Not a casual mare of the night, so what am I to do? Shall I risk it?

"Yes! I see the look on your face, you're wondering if going out with me is worth it. The answer is yes, so let's go before you change your mind," she hurriedly states and walks past me to the entry doors, opening them with her magic and letting the morning sun wash over me.

"Who am I to disagree with such veracity?" I ask rhetorically as I follow her into the city proper.

A breeze blows to my left and ruffles through my mane, bringing a warm chill to my scalp. I hear birds chirping in the trees and I wish, only once, to see one hanging by its innards, writhing it's short life away while I watch.

A pony pulling a cart greets Fleur as though he knows her. That snaps me from my short daydream and I trot to catch up to her, then stand proud and begin walking down the street greeting ponies as I go.

"Good day, madam, fine hat you've chosen. A lovely scarf on such a lovely day." "Your mane is a beauty to behold, mistress." "Sir, I believe you've stolen my style of monocle!" I jest and laugh at a passing pony. It seems everypony knows me, but it's quite difficult to know them.

They're so far below me in so many ways, I feel to know them is to forget myself in a way. Perhaps Prince Blueblood is free? I enjoy our talks of what the lower classes should be doing instead of sullying Canterlot with their poor genes.

"Ugh," Fleur says to me quietly, "how can you be so kind to such ponies? I think of them as mud lovers and cloud humpers, yet you're friends with them all? I wouldn't associate with them so easily," she says and fluffs her mane with her hoof, striking a feminine power pose.

My monocle drops from my face as I stare at her. Her beauty and resplendence are to be reviled, she should have a bust made of her to adorn my… what am I thinking?!

"Yes," I say, "I do agree with you, however, we mustn't speak of such things in public. Please, let me see if my friend is available, then we shall see how you act in the company of others."

I'm challenging her and I see her showing her nervousness. She stands proud and trots to me, pressing her side to mine. "I'll do as I please when I meet your friends, and if you don't like it, I'll move on to one of them," she tells me softly into my ear. Her words ring true and I feel the slight urge to violate societal protocol and press my lips to hers, but I will not relent to my baser instincts again, and if I do, it will not be in public.

"Well, let's be off then. He may be free, and if he is I'd prefer not to have to catch him on a day wherein he prefers to play sports."

"Oh, sports? Like hoofball?"

"No, gentlecolt sports, like croquet or swords. Hoofticuffs or horn clashing. You know, games of the sort."

"Horn clashing? I thought only colts played that," she asks as I lead her to the third district. It's a trot, but it's where Blueblood lives. I certainly hope to surprise her, I look forward to seeing a fear in her eyes. Few things bring fear like meeting royalty.

"Yes, we'd play magic clash, but no one is brave enough to go against him."

"Oh, he's good at magic clash?" she asks casually.

"No, he's terrible. He can barely open a door, in the first place. He says it's below him to do such tasks, but he's really just not very powerful, magically. It's quite the shame to see a unicorn's ability dwarfed by their ego to the point that their ego holds more power than their horn."

"He sounds like a cad. I can't wait to meet him and challenge him to a magic duel," she giggles into her hoof and I roll my eyes. She can't be that foolish, can she?

We make our way to the elite district, a place I would love to call home, but the requirements are too steep, in both poor character and in bits. Flour tenses and leaves my side, choosing a safer place behind me where she can follow my lead and not have to interact with other ponies of such class. With only a couple common greetings to mares and stallions of the first tribe, we arrive at his mansion. It is a mighty home that dwarfs mine, yet is still shadowed by Canterlot Castle.

"B-b-blueblood? Prince Blueblood? That's who you're meeting with?" she stammers and trembles in her shoes, slightly.

"Why, yes. Didn't I mention that we're old acquaintances? His father and I were in boarding school together, then Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. Our families are practically one at times. It's not a bother to you, is it?" I ask, strutting my connections like a peacock flashing its tail.

"No, I just haven't seen him for years and it wasn't under best conditions we last met," she pokes the marble walkway leading to his gate that we're standing before. Had I been wearing my monocle, it would have fallen to the floor and shattered. Can I do nothing to impress this mare?

I clear my throat and nod. "Indeed, well, now is the time to make amends," I look to the doors behind the barred gates that block us as a wagon is being pulled to us.

"A mud pony pulling a wagon?" she giggles. "How appropriate, now who's that in the wagon?"

"Ah, that seems to be," I raise my monocle to clarify the view, "Prince Whitemane."

She groans quietly. "Yay, this'll be great."

"Poise and charm, my lady," I tell her as I act what I say, "poise and charm." Time seems to slow as the muddy moves at a steady pace. Finally, they reach the gate and I struggle with the urge to openly scold the dirt pony for taking such a while, but I hold my tongue and keep my resolve. "Prince Whitemane!" I smile slightly. "It's so nice to see you again. How's the family? Numerous and belligerent still?" I jest.

He smiles back to me. "Indeed! Four sons and a daughter, each with a dagger aimed at my side. Yet, without me, not a one of them would live the month through."

He quickly disembarks the wagon and opens the gate. I waste a little time. "Save for Blueblood, if I recall correctly."

"Indeed, fair friend. He's more masterful with his magic then he lets on… and who is this marvel of first beauty?" he asks Flour as he walks past me.

"Fleur de Lis, your highness," she bows slightly. Fleur, not Flour. I was so close. "It's an honor to meet you again.

"Ah, I recall your name, albeit slightly. Weren't you the mare who used to pee in the bushes at luncheons?"

He jabbed at her with sharp words, enough to bring a mare down to a level where he could take advantage of them.

She merely smirked. "Yes, as a filly tends to do. I competed with Blueblood and when he lost, naturally he'd make a scene over it."

I'm flabbergasted. Is she truly admitting not only public urination, but in a contest with royalty?

"Ah-hah! You are certainly correct. The number of times he cried because he wasn't the victor at any game exceeds the spirals on all our horns," he laughs loudly and moves to hug her. She reluctantly hugs him, but looks to me in a pleading way.

"Well, it's quite nice to catch up on old times and memories of the past, however, I am a bit thirsty at the moment," I say, licking my lips just enough to get the point across.

"Ah, yes, indeed. Pascal here will pull us to the front doors," Whitemane says as he closes the gate behind us. We make our way into the wagon and talk about our day until we arrive at the door. It seems the reason the time passed so slowly was the health of this mud pony pulling us. He appears to have arthritis and poverty.

Two issues I will never have, on my life. But, being in the company of others, I offer my condolences and five bits for the trouble.

"You two go ahead, I wish to ask Pascal something," I tell the two so they will leave us alone. "Well, now that they're gone, I have some friends with magic abilities that could help you with your predicament."

He blushes and shakes his head. "No, I'm happy where I am in my life. I don't need handouts or charity."

My interest is piqued. I had meant only for his knees, but this has my heart pumping. "What about family? They can't like the nomadic lifestyle, do they?"

"I don't know. I'm making it on my own now. Nearest family I have hasn't spoken or written me in years, so they could be anywhere," he shrugs off the heavy yoke and cracks his neck.

I feel like I'm asking a mare to make love for the first time, with intent to carry my foal. I would of course never simply ask, but instead make a proposal, and all in only the best of decent family interest, of course, not like how Fleur tempts me. I'm positively tingly with nerves and excitement. "Where do you stay, old chap? Here on the estate?"

"Yes, I'll be staying the rest of the weekdays here before I have to sleep in the shelter for the weekend," he says to me blandly. He's perfect. The first, the most perfect pony I've ever come across. Not a cat, dog, or other type of playmate. A real pony playmate… If I play my cards right, that is.

"Pascal, I won't have it. Stay at my chateau this weekend, I insist," I stomp my hoof to the ground in finality. He smirks, I now see the look in his eye.

"Well, if you truly insist, I can stay this weekend before I leave the city, but only because you asked."

He played me for a fool. He's a common swindler, and now I cannot back out, lest my word be rubbish. Drat, maybe I can play with him at my home still, he deserves a good night of play. "Well, I certainly am. I won't have you walk to the slums of Canterlot when you can stay in my abode and prepare for your trip."

I finish and smile at Pascal, knowing he believes me a fool. Stupid mud pony, I'll show you who's the fool by weeks end.

"Now, if you'll forgive me," I excuse myself, "I must visit with my host. Fare thee well, Pascal," I say with a smile as I depart. He does seem to be content with his life, so shall I be content with taking it.

Chapter 2 (c)(g)

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

Chapter 3

The crash wakes me from my slumber. It is akin to what I imagine a train derailing and driving into a building would sound like. I am on my hooves and at the balcony doorway before I realize it. Shoving the doors open with my magic as I near them, I stop as quickly as I can, my tail nearly touching the tiles as my hind leg dropped in the skid.

The heat of fire washed over me and consumed my vision as what appeared to be a dirigible burnt in my yard. Another crash startled me out of my reprieve and I noticed another flying machine crashing into a nearby house, exploding mightily and scattering the house across the block.

I then see that there are almost as many ships falling from the skies as there are houses in Canterlot, and I am suddenly grateful to be alive, for my home is just missed. I get to my hooves and turn at a gallop to my room door, donning my robe and calling for my butler.

Are we at war? Is this a horrible accident? Will I live to see tomorrow!? I am in a panic!

I turn the halls and fly down the stairs until I hear the telltale sound of screaming, agonized, pleading voices calling my name.

What in Celestia’s name were they doing when the thing fell? is all I can think as I turn another hallway and reach the end suddenly.

The noises from the closed door are piercingly loud; I can hardly hear myself think. I turn and tug at the door handle, but the door won’t open. I rear and land my forehooves on the door, shouting.

The door cracks slightly so I turn and buck the door again and again. The crack widens and I feel the fires of Tartarus on my hind leg, but it’s a just pain. I feel as though my flesh is being boiled from my leg, yet I turn to look in. If they are to die, I should at least be the one to see them one last time so I can know their suffering.

The door cracks in the middle from top to bottom and sucks into the inferno where my staff is, writhing in agony on the floor. Eight ponies, all maneless burnt corpses that have yet to die. Their eyes have popped, their flesh charred and bleeding. They crawl across the floor leaving blood trails that the fire won’t touch.

I laugh.

It starts slow, a light chuckle in the back of my throat, but soon it’s maniacal. The ponies in white would take me away if they could hear me, see the unbridled joy on my expression.

There’s no way any other creature could understand the jubilance I feel watching the painful deaths of so many. Watching them slowly stop their crawling, listen as their voices are burnt out of them, watch as their fur and manes melt and wither, exposing their charred boiled flesh. I can feel the energy leave their bodies, it's refreshing like cold lemonade on a hot day.

Why am I crying? I’m so happy to see this with my own eyes, I shouldn’t be sobbing, especially not over my lower class staff. Not a unicorn among them, yet my eyes spill tears like they’re close friends to me. They lie, they must. I wouldn’t feel this way if I were to watch a pony die for real, would I?

A sudden flash of light and the beautiful Princess Cadence is in the room, a magic shield protecting her from the flames. She looks to me and calls out, but the fire is too loud and her shield too strong. I hear cracking and creaking, but I don’t know where it’s from as I peer through the smoke to see her shout noiselessly again.

She lowers her shield and her hooves touch the floor. She’s telling me to escape the house through the front door? Why would I leave such a beautiful spectacle before it’s over? An explosion above us and she looks up suddenly. The ceiling collapses on top of her and fills the room with debris, yet she still casts her shield. There must have been another falling sky boat that noticed the failure of the first.

A flash of light and we’re in a wooded area, she teleported us, to I don’t know where, and a shield dissipates from just above us. It seems that she took most of the room and dying ponies with us. The scent of burnt ponies makes me wretch as the smell finally strikes me, and I turn to heave but stop as my eyes take in the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen in my life.

A sight that will haunt my waking and sleeping dreams for the rest of my days, or so I hope. True beauty and resplendence incarnate. I slowly approach and look into Cadences eyes and see her pleading with me without words. There can be no words for several metal bars are lodged through her neck, supporting a wooden beam from the ceiling on top of them, locking her in place.

Most of her body has been impaled by burning wood and metal rods, her mane is barely ablaze, as though hair doesn’t burn like paper. I can’t think to experiment now as my heart overflows with admiration. Her panting breaths are short and raspy. Her blood has put out the fire below her, still steaming on the metal poles as it runs from her body to the floor. Blood drips slowly as her body seems to heal itself around the wounds, while the hot metal rods exposed through her back are still cooking her alive.

Her movements are little more than twitches of instinct than rational thought and her right foreleg is moving as though she were walking at a steady pace. Suddenly, the scent of burning death has new meaning as I lean in and press my lips to hers. She tries to pull away but the boards in her body prevent it, and she sings to me in her sultry voice. I kiss her again as she weakly sobs into my mouth, the blood in her saliva mixes with mine.

I lean back and watch her bloody tears stream down her pink face. This is the greatest moment of my life! I hope it never ends.

I pick up a piece of what was once a chair leg and look at its charred form, and I feel giddy. I’m going to see what the inside of a Princess’ eye socket looks like. I could have sex right now.

I feel my stallionhood fully exposed and I desire to mount this dying mare, so she can feel a real stallion before she dies.

I feel a light shove but ignore it.

I bring the chair leg to her eye level as I am shoved again, this time I hear my name.

I thrust the chair leg into the princesses eye and suddenly another flash of light.

“Fancy Pants, wake up!”

“F-fleur? What the- what’s...?”

“You were humping my back in your sleep, and moaning Princess Mi Amor Cadenza’s name. Now, it’s the middle of the night and ponies are allowed to dream, but please excuse me if I don’t allow you to wet my back,” she says as she’s climbing from the bed and going to the balcony door with a bit of frustration.

She opens the balcony doors and I hope so much to see fire raining from the skies, but instead, it’s a beautiful clear night; twinkling stars and all that nonsense.

I groan. “It was merely the best dream I’ve ever had, sex had nothing to do with it.”

“I’m not upset, just displeased to be awake at this early hour. It’s four in the morning, and I’m in no mood for sex if you’re going to ask.”

“We’re awfully presumptuous this night, aren’t we?”

She sighs and lowers her head. She mumbles something I can’t hear. “This isn’t what I was expecting this week,” she turns to me with a trembling lower lip. I can tell this is going to get uncomfortable. “I’m not used to being treated like a lady again. With baths, food, clothing, and shopping... If you want me only for my body, I think I can do that to keep this lifestyle.”

And there it is, the moment where everything turns awkward. Handle this delicately, Fancy Pants, very delicately.

“Nay, think nothing of it, Fleur. If I wanted you for your body I would have said so and sent you on your way, bits in bag this morning when I awoke. When you’re ready, return to bed with me and we can discuss this after sunrise if you’d like, as it’s still the middle of the night and resting on a thought is always best.”

Time passes with her looking out at the view whilst I lay in bed and look at her, my erection having receded seconds after she left the bed, but the dream is still fresh in my mind, teasing my rod to show again..

“I’m... I-I like you Fancy Pants. You’re a nice stallion and I didn’t think ponies like you existed anymore,” she turns back to look at me, her eyes shimmering slightly in the moonlight. It’s captivating. “I need time to get used to being normal again. Can you help me?”

With a chuckle I take a tissue from the box on the nightstand and bring it to her cheek. “Darling, I have all the time in the world for you.”

“Even if... I don’t want to have sex as much?” she sniffles, taking the tissue from me.

“Yes. To be honest, the sex was a bit much for what I’m used to. Shall we say, pencil it in our planners rather than do it as we see fit? I’m certain my staff will appreciate that more as well.”

She lets a chuckle through her tears and sniffles. “Yes, I would like that. You’re a kind pony, Fancy, and I can tell you’d give your waist coat to a cold pony before you let them freeze.”

I’d take the coat of a cat to stay warm, too, I chuckle. “Indeed I would. No pony should suffer, especially one as pretty as you.”

She leaves the doors open as she returns and crumbles the tissue and tosses it aside, taking another as she climbs onto the bed and lays with me. “You’re the nicest anypony has ever been to me. Thank you.”

“I… You’re welcome, Fleur.” We lay in the silence with her sniffling off and on until her breathing becomes steady and her body relaxes. She’s asleep again, and I’m okay with that. I like her a lot. “I’m sorry I humped your back,” I whisper. Her ear flicks and she hums, curling slightly. I kiss her head below her horn and lay back.

That dream was bliss, my heart still aches from it. To see such sights in reality would be more than I could handle. With a yawn, I feel my eyes growing heavy and I fall asleep without noticing.

The bird on the balcony wakes me yet again, although this time I’m not irritated at all. The mare sleeping, curled up against me like a foal, is all I need to think about. It’s been a mere two days since we met, yet I can hardly imagine how I got by without her. Bah, foalish feelings that will pass all too soon.

I have errands to run today, I can’t stay in bed too long. The bird flies away, I presume in defeat for it didn’t garner a response this time and I move carefully to the edge of the bed and roll off the side to my hooves. I make my way to my closet and choose what to wear with caution. Today I may run into an influential pony, for all I know.

I have to set up a meeting with a photographer, luncheon with Good and Plenty, afternoon games at Hero’s Country Club and make it home in time for supper with… Drat, I forgot Cold Springs is coming over to discuss land rights in the north eastern pastures for the asylum to be built.

Celestia, why am I so busy lately? I need a cat, to relax.

I dress and exit the room, taking monocle to eye and observing the sleeping mare in better detail before I leave. My heart aches for a moment as I leave the room alone and make my way down the hall and stairs. The dining room is empty, save for Grey Withers and a small buffet of fruits and vegetables, breads and cheeses, juices... The usual.

I fill my plate before I take a seat and start to eat as Grey Withers reminds me of my agenda, but I don’t feel hungry, I feel alone. “Grey Withers, be a gent and join me for breakfast?”

He’s taken aback and stammers as I interrupted his reading. “Sir?”

“Yes, I know I’ve never asked you to before but, would you mind joining me?”

“I, I’m sorry sir, but I’ve eaten already.”

“Then sit to keep me company while I eat,” I tell him. He nods and takes a seat two spaces down from me, the clip board resting on the table between us as he looks wearily at me. “Don’t fret, I’m not upset, I just wish to eat with somepony this morning.”

“Why not the lady in your chambers, sir?”

“I don’t wish to wake her, she’s too delicate a flower to be blown in the storm of my life as it is. Let her sleep in.”

“I, see,” he hesitates, “are you, affectionate with her?”

I take a bite of something and chew, letting my mind work. “Besides the sex, I think maybe I am. What should I do, send her away?” I suggest.

“No, that would be foolish. Are you asking for my advice?”

“I am, Grey Withers. You’re the only pony I confide in, and you know that.”

He gulps and glances to the kitchen door. “Indeed, sir. As always, your deepest secrets are safe with me. I advise you to stay with her, keep her around. It may be good for your image, but better for your soul. For you, as a pony. I haven’t seen you behave this way in years, nor has the other staff and it’s refreshing.”

“Refreshing how?”

“You’re happier and it shows as you practically pranced around the house yesterday and this morning. You’re smiling, even now, and when I say ‘Fleur’, ha! There, a twinkle in your eye. Perhaps it is just the sex, but of the many mares you’ve laid, this one has stayed beside you.”

“So far,” I drink a swallow, “but what’s to say she won’t break my heart and bank?”

“Have faith, sir. There’s no reason to worry, she’s a good pony for you. I believe you should give it time and see how it goes.”

I look at my cleared plate and hum. When did I eat it all? It’s been a mere moment’. “I,” I sigh, “I will take your advice, as it seems accurate, yet again. But if it goes teats, up I’m holding you accountable.”

He smiles and uses his hoof to drag the clip board closer to him. “Indeed, now about the rest of your evening plans…”

Grey Withers, you’re the only pony I trust.

Fleur enters the dining room as I’m finishing my meal in silence, Grey Withers having finished and left a few minutes prior. “Good morning, Darling. Sleep well?”

“I did, thank you for letting me sleep in. Have you made any progress with the photographer?”

Ah, straight to the point. “I have sent word out and we’ll know by this evening. Would you like to accompany me through my day, or would you prefer to go shopping?”

She takes a seat opposite me and takes a plate begins to fill it. “I’d like to go shopping and have my mane done. Perhaps some time at a spa is due.”

“When were you last?”

“I, honestly can’t recall. A bath here and there with whomever I was consorting, but I haven’t been in a spa for at least a year.”

“That’s changing today; we’ll both go to the spa this morning, as I need a grooming and horn shave as it is.”

She smiles and eats a white grape. “It sounds like a date.”

“In a way,” I reply smugly.

“I’d be delighted, Fancy. Shall we go once I finish?”

“Of course, Darling,” I reassure her, “no rush. A mare must maintain her figure, right?”

We share a chuckle and then discuss options at my favorite spa.

“Oh, oh my… Eep! Don’t be so rough!”

“I apologize, Miss, but you have qvite a vew knots in your mane and tail.”

“Must you do them both, ah, at the same time?”

“It’s easier and faster zis vay, we’ve only just begun to return you to a noble pony’s beauty.”

I listen from the next room and snicker as my side is brushed gently. The theatrics continue at quite a volume for the duration of her mane and tail smoothing therapy, and the sounds of her whimpers send a tickle in my ears and a smile to my muzzle even as they fade.

“It hurts to move my head and neck at all,” she whines, “my tail feels like it’s been plucked of all the hair, why must you be so mean?”

“Bah, you have no idea vhat pain is. I had one coltfriend who vould tie me down during sex, his kink, not mine.”

A pregnant pause. “Was it good?”

“Sometimes zit vas incredible, others… I couldn’t get free from zee binds while he fulfilled his pleasures et my expense It didn’t last.”

“Oh, I was just wondering. I’ve always been interested in bondage,” Fleur says quietly, yet loud enough. The brushing against my side slows as their conversation continues. “Something about being at the whim of a stallion’s desires and no way to refuse, it sounds erotic. You know, I spent time as mare of the night.”

“Indeed? Do you vish to share vile I begin zee shampoo?”

“Not much to share, to be honest. I ran away from home because I was a confident young mare and the world was but a walnut inn my hoof. Only too soon did I realize I couldn’t make any bits without experience or using my family name. I refused to leave my home city of Canterlot, as it's all I've ever known, so that left few options. I'd stay with friends I'd make and soon I found that ponies would let me stay with them and feed me in trade for sex. Only, it would last but a couple days before they’d get tired of me and move on.

“That is, until I met Fancy Pants,” she sighs, “I prayed for a stallion like him and I have hope, but so far it’s like every other stallion and mare I’ve laid with. I want to have a connection with him and I really want him to have one with me as well. I don’t want to be back on the streets by the weekend.”

Water starts to rush and her beauty mare hums in agreement. “I have heard such stories before, I believe it vill vork out for you in zee end.”

“That’s what mothers tell children they don’t have faith in but also don’t want to hurt their feelings. What do you think?”

“Honestly? In my home country, ve have a saying. ‘You make your own future.’ If you vant to be with him then you have to do eet! Show heem your mettle, your passion, in and out of bed. After all, it's not sex that is important in a relationship or herd, but love too. Can you love him?”

A pause, my groomer has stopped and we’re both listening. “I, feel I could in time.”

“You could become a mayor in time. That’s not the answer you have to give yourself--”

“I do love him,” Fleur interjects quietly. The sounds of shampooing slow and I find myself looking at the partition intently. The brushing resumes lightly but I know my groomer is listening as well.

“Oh, do you now?”

“I felt it last night. It wasn’t the sex in the bath, or before bed. No, it was when he comforted me and held me against him until I fell asleep and then let me sleep in, having a full breakfast ready for me when I awoke. That was when I felt it, because no other pony has ever cared to comfort me, or to show care, since I was a filly.”

“My, my. He sounds nice enough.”

“I can’t let him know,” Fleur tells her spa mare, “because if he rejects me, I have few options. I have bits, but it would take so much to build myself a reputation and hide my past, and it took a day for Fancy Pants to introduce me to Prince Whitemane who said he’d bury my past as a prostitute.”

A silence and only the sound of shampooing. The brushing returns and moves to my back in long strokes. “He sounds like a nice ztallion indeed,” her spa mare says.

“He’s amazing, and I want him to be mine, but I can’t be too fast or it will scare him away.”

“Perhaps, or perhaps it vill vork out eef you just let eet happen. May I suggest zomething, Dear?”

“Of course you may.”

“Stay vith him and let nature take its course. Go at zee pace you both can live vith for the long trek.”

“I suppose I can… will do that. Thank you, miss...?”

“Ah, my name is Flowing Breeze. An honor to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, and I appreciate this to be between us, right?”

“On my oath as a spa mare.”

I roll my eyes and look at the mare brushing me. Her eyes are closed tightly as she restrains a laugh. I’m no fool, there is no honor code among spa mares any more than there is honor amongst thieves.

Before too long, I’m properly groomed and have moved on to a hooficure and horn shave. The spa mares here are expert farriers and take no time filing my hooves even from a week of walking on differing streets. I also have my horn shaven a bit, as much as I wish it, I can’t have a spear on my head, lest I look barbaric. Dignity is a must, after all.

I finish and prance to the mane stylist where I walk in on a sordid conversation.

“--thought it was all sex, which is great because he’s skilled, but he’s really sweet and kind--” Fleur stops mid sentence as I enter and blushes as she averts her eyes from my reflection in the mirror. I pretend not to have heard her at all as I prance to an open seat with a spa mare moving to greet me.

“Vilcom,” my, that accent is authoritative, “you sit,” she points a hoof at the cushion and I nod. For an earth pony she’s commanding respect from even me. “I trim, you talk. Yes?”

“Well, I was planning on more of a cathartic-”

“Bah! You rich pony, you talk to Braun about problimz, Braun listen… Clippers,” she shouts over her shoulder and a young colt comes around a corner with scissors in his mouth. I hope to see her swipe them from him, that maybe she'll draw some blood. “Tsank you, leetle vun,” she takes the scissors carefully and moves them to my forelocks.

With deftness, she slips them on her left hoof and uses her right hoof to work the mechanism sending familiar snippet sounds quickly around my head.

“You talk, yes?”

“I haven’t anything to say at the moment.”

“You meet royalty lately?”

“Ah, yes, certainly. Prince Whitemane is a good friend of mine from foalhood. We met over lunch yesterday.”

“Vhitemane? I know of him, mommy’s little prince, dat von, yes? Do not move ears, or I cut zem off!”

A common joke, at times. To be called mommy's little prince is to have been coddled at her teat, dressed, comforted, and kept safe from the world to a blissful ignorance of just that. In truth, he was coddled and treated as such. I'll never share those details though, as he wishes his children to live the life he was denied. Even if they turn out like Prince Blueblood.

At her command, I focus on keeping my ears still. “I have no comment as to his familial life, Braun, but I assure you he is well regardless.”

She moves to my neck and when I move her hoof slips from the scissors and pushes my head to face forward again. “A big baby, rumor says. I has no need to believe zem, nor a care to!” She is so stern, “Vhen Braun was in home country, I vas squad leader in ground troopers. Strongest earth ponies. No mommies, only exercise and training, makes a pony strong,” she glanced once to me I a way that made me believe she could break my horn off and stab me with it before I could cast a spell, “not like weak ponies in Equestria.”

“Now, Braun,” a mare started from outside my view. I dare not look. “We Equestrian ponies might not be as tough as Germaney ponies, but we can hold our own.”

Braun laughs boisterously. “You can hold your own pee until it dribbles down your trembling legs at za first sight of danger.”

“And how is it you believe this to be a fact?” Fleur piped in. I had forgotten she was here, but I’m becoming intimately knowledgeable of the wall I’m facing.

“When Braun first arrives here, I speak little Equestrian but live on southeast coast. I fish, I eat. I work and live. Fight starts, Braun jumps in and all tough ponies fall before her with no effort, colts and fillies alike. After that I move around and fight for money, food, sex, until I find nice pony. Good Mint his name, he teach me to cut hair instead of fight,” she snips once very loudly and puts a hoof firmly under my belly, near my tail...

With an indecipherable jumble of words, I’m on my four hooves and she’s starting my tail with a guttural laugh. “All colts fear for their privates, easy target to win in a fight. Anyway, I move around with him and learn cut hair. I find job here and am best, like when I fight. Now I am happy, live free, have a mate and home.

“You see, rich pony, even mud ponies can be more than they are.” A couple gasps in the room and she waves them off with a snap of her tail. “It is compliment to me, not insult. The earth is hard, strong, giving of life. WIth the blood of our enemies, the mud is enriched with-”

“That is enough!” A mare of authority shouts from the doorway. “I heard you were bragging about yourself again, but under no circumstances are tribalism or death to be discussed.”

A final loud snip and I wince, fearful of anything near my tail being cut. She casually tells me with that authoritative voice. “You are done, rich pony. You look like a million bits, go now. I must fight for my job as I trained to fight for my life.”

I am aghast and without words. This mare is more than any pony I’ve ever come across, and even though I find her interesting, my thoughts are on Fleur and how she’s reacting to this. Looking over I see her and most of the other patrons staring intently at the floor as she stomps out of the room.

If only I could leap over and embrace her, she seems so saddened. “Fleur,” I say, my voice unusually shaky.

“No, it’s okay. I think she needs more time to adjust to Equestrian life.”

I nod once and shake my tail, loosening hairs that were cut but not removed by that harpee.

I must say that the nag was quite good at her job, even if she did bring with her a bout of melancholy that would depress Celestia herself.

I finish and wait in the lobby for Fleur to come out, in the meantime I offer bits to tip our helpers and read a magazine from Cloudsdale. A pegasus stallion wearing stockings and a sultry look is peering at me from an ad that I can’t look away from. Are all pegasi that flexible? Does this stallion have no shame, baring fully polished wings like it’s mating season?

And for what? Bottled water? I do have a thirst, I must admit.

“Fancy Pants? Ah, nice to see you’re still here. How do I look?” Fleur asks. I lower the magazine and then it falls from my magic all together. She’s radiant and resplendent, a pair of wings and she’d rival Princess Celestia’s beauty without a doubt. “I guess that’s a good sign?” she winks to me and motions her horn to the doorway.

Like a colt that just discovered love, I’m at the door and using my hoof to open it for her. “Right after you, my lady,” I smile widely and glance under her tail as she passes. This mare is certainly a model, and if not, she shall be...

I look back to the magazine on the floor and the thought of her wearing stockings and a saddle while biting the bit on her bridle…

Down boy, stay in there… I truly think I’m falling for this mare and part of me hopes to never land.

Chapter 4 (g)

The rest of our day was spent as it should have been: entertaining ourselves amongst the nobles. We talked with unicorns and pegasi, I played games while she gossiped, I spoke highly of her while she left with the mares to powder her muzzle. Why do mares powder their bodies in the first place? We even met an earth pony that I didn’t feel was too far beneath me, more because she was an aid to Princess Celestia herself, but I digress.

We ate lunch at a fine restaurant and had dessert the block over at an ethnic place. I don’t know where they were from but the treats were delectable. I have a small box of various sweets being delivered at this moment. Speaking of this moment…

“Ah! Yes! Love zee cam-oh-rah! Pose like zee angel you vant to be. Turn and pout! Now love me like you were a filly again. Hate me like I insulted your coltfriend. Yes! Zat is eet!”

The flashing lights were hurting my eyes so I became very interested in a magazine, reading it facing away from the very loud photographer shouting at my marefriend. Oh my, my marefriend? That slipped into my inner monologue quite nicely.

I feel myself smiling, naturally. I turn to glance at the mare striking poses at the call of the nag with goggles instead of glasses and I feel, something. I don’t usually feel anything good, but this feeling, it’s warm and… I feel it in my throat, like nervousness but it’s not. I return my gaze to my magazine but the image of Fleur tossing her mane last night in the bath flashes through my mind.

The feeling is back. What is this, affection? Lust? No. Butterflies? I don’t think I’ve eaten any caterpillars lately, and… what if it’s love? No, admiration! That has to be it, it’s admiration. End of topic, moving on. Oh, look at the article on the importance of brushing after flossing for foals, interesting!

“And, I’m spent, no more photos from me, zee great Minty Shot. I shall tell you zat you are a natural and I see you in zee magazines across the nation. ‘Fleur de Lis, supermodel’ vill be zee title zey all see and love you for! Now go, I am exhausted and must have zees developed at vonce!”

“Thank you so much! I’ll keep in touch, you have my address, right?”

“Yes, you are staying vith Fancy Pants, zee cute colt over zere. If you vant I can take him off your hooves… Haha! Nay, I joke for you see, Minty Shot iz funny too!”

Fleur fake laughs and trots over to me, bumping into me and sending me an urgent look for us to leave. “Ah, it was a pleasure to meet you, Minty. I, we, she looks forward to doing business with you again. Ta ta.”

“Yes, ta-da to you both… Assistant! Give me my spring water-”

We quickly left the studio in the warehouse in the lower district and made our way back to my home. Normally a ride would be preferred, a taxi or carriage of sorts, but I wasn’t in the mood to sit alone with Fleur and have, feelings. We talk and exchange pleasantries with ponies as we pass, there’s even a gryphon we see exiting a jewel shop with bits in… claw? Paw?

“Faaancy? Can you buy me a necklace?” Fleur whines for the first time.

“My dear?”

“I realized I haven’t any jewelry and a pearl necklace would look amazing on me.”

“Ah, I don’t see the harm in buy a necklace can bring, let’s go.”

We greet the gryphon but, like the rumors say, they’re mean beasts and it flies away without more than a look of disgust at us. I wonder if that’s how I look at mud ponies, I wonder.

We enter the shop and she dances with glee for a moment in place before prancing to a display case full of horn and ear jewelry. “Darling, I thought we were here for a necklace?”

“Oh, I just want to try a couple things on before I buy the right one. It won’t take but a few minutes. Miss, can I try this one on please?”

“...By chance, are we almost done?” I bemoan loudly like an exhausted colt, which I am at this point. Hours of ‘trying it on’ and we’re back to where we began. “We’ve been here forever, isn’t this enough?”

The mares in the room giggle at my attitude and I resign myself to examining another display case, again. This one with overpriced hoof gems. The one to my right is ear accessories, the left of me is mane and tail clips. Average price of this case is 137 bits. Highest is 1,317bits while the lowest is- “I’m ready to go, Fancy, what do you think?”

I look over blearily to Fleur and nod. “Looks amazing, can we go now?”

“I also got a couple other things, you don’t mind, I’m sure,” she says as she casually strolls past me with a large bag in tow with her magic. I follow like a mindless mule until the evening breeze blows over me and wakes me up a little.

“I say, what time is it?”

“Oh? About six in the evening, why?”

I yawn then shake my head. “Just hungry and tired, also I don’t think we’ll be going shopping again anytime soon, dear.”

“Oh,” she looks back and pouts to me, “but I had so much fun shopping with you! You’re such a nice stallion and you helped me choose this delightful necklace!”

“Yes, indeed. However I’m afraid I haven’t the patience to shop in such a manner, I typically have my staff shop for me,” I inform her.

“Oh, pish-posh. A few more times and you’ll understand the joy that is to be had in shopping with a lady. Now, let’s get something to eat okay? I’m hungry after all that.”

Hungry? After doing nothing but gushing about jewels, anklets, horn rings and the like for hours? How?! It doesn’t make sense, mare, how can you find that inane waste of time enjoyable?!

“Ah, perhaps I can give it another try, someday. As for now I’ll take a salad the size of my bed,” and then a couple hours of personal time in my play room, ”and then rest like a foal.”

“Oh, you stallions always want to sleep after having fun. Just get over it and talk with me about you, about Fancy Pants the pony.”

I hum in thought and push my darker inclinations aside. “Very well, let’s begin over supper and move on through the night. Where shall we eat?”

“Home, and then I need to show off my new style to somepony! I’ll have to make a friend amongst the staff.”

“Ah, yes. There are many a nice pony, just remember that your life is an open book when you talk to those ponies. I only trust Grey Withers, myself, as he’s been with me since foalhood.”

“Oh? That’s so sweet! A confidant in the house, what scandals has he been privy to, I wonder?” she half smiles mockingly at me. I smile in return. Her smile warms my heart. I haven’t had a thought of darkness almost all day, all my thoughts reside on her. I clear my throat but she interjects.

“I was merely joking, Darling, no ill intention meant. Let’s hurry home and do something fun before we retire! Do you have any cards? A game of poker sounds nice, right?”

“Indeed! I haven’t played a good hoof of cards in a dozen moons, it feels like. Let’s hurry before,” I yawn again, “I sleep standing.”

“Awe, you really aren’t a shopper, are you, Fancy? Well, I’ll have to make some friends to go with so you don’t have to wait on little old me.”

With a pleasant nod I take the lead and nod at passing ponies, not indulging them in conversation this time. We arrive home just in time for me to feel slightly more awake from the brisk trot I’d taken all the way from the shops. I enter the house and look back to see Fleur panting as she makes her way down the walkway and even now I think of her as a professional model walking down that thing models walk around on, showing of their garments.

I look back and jerk in start as I notice Grey Withers before me. “Sir, your room is ready with a fine friend to play with.”

I straighten up and grin widely. “I nearly forgot, Grey Withers, you’re a fine steward as always. Please, show Fleur to supper when it’s time and I’ll arrive post haste.”

I trot past him quickly. “Indeed, sir.”

I enter my playroom with a happy step in my trot and before I can close the door there’s a dog happily hopping before me. A dog, Grey Withers knows me too well.

I seal the entrance and light up the room, taking a small dog biscuit from a bowl atop a dresser and give it to the hungry mutt. “Who’s a good puppy? Eat it all up, you’ll thank me before I’m done.”

With rabid hunger it gobbles the treat and licks the floor where crumbs fell and then it’s beside me, under me, and looking up to me for me treats. You’re the true treat, little one, I smile to it as I prepare the table. A side table is a nice addition I should add, I think as I bring over an assortment of blades, hammers, nails, gauze, and healing potions.

For what little they heal on a other creatures healing potions do wonders to stop bleeding on dogs. I pick a hacksaw from the cupboard and some extra twine, just in case. Looking at my setup and nod and turn my attention to the dog that’s wagging its tail and looking happily at me. I pick it up in my magic and turn it around, looking it over.

A golden retriever, about six years of age. Female, survivor of several fights. I don’t see signs of motherhood, but that’s something I can look into later. Teeth are in fine repair, as are paws and nails. Certainly you’ve seen better times, but the worst have been few and far between. You’ve got some fat on you, so perhaps you were once owned, or maybe recently fed often from somewhere.

I move to take notes in my notebook and notice I’m nearly out of pages. Odd, there haven’t been almost one hundred of these creatures in my room this year, have there been?

I take my notes and fill in some parts I missed about that darn cat and move the dog close so I can nuzzle it. “You’re such a good dog, aren’t you?” I coo to it as I move it to the table. It lays down on its belly on the table and wags its tail. I get one more, last treat and give it to the mutt and smile as it gobbles it down.

“So, shall we begin?” I ask as I begin to undress and hang my clothes up by the door this time. I shan’t forget them this time like the last ones. They were quite nice, to be honest but I’ve got plenty of others to choose from.

I hang my clothes and take my old set from the hangars by the wall and look them over before disassembling the pieces and scattering them across the floor beneath the table, to catch any drippings they can.

“Now, you’re going to be a good doggy, right?” I ask as I lean in and let it sniff my muzzle. It licks my cheek and I chuckle out of habit. Taking a long length of rope I coil it properly above the dog and take the dog in my magic, laying it on its side. I snort as it looks at me curiously and turn it over, trying where to start is harder on dogs.

They’re larger and fight with more of that carnivorous might than cats ever can muster. I decide to start like the last darned cat and roll it to its back and I rub its belly softly as the ropes loosely round its legs and neck, then suddenly the ropes tighten and she yelps in surprise at the tautness of her binds.

I waste no time tying the ropes to the table’s underside and I make sure with my own eye that they’re knotted correctly before I rise and look to my left at my play toys. Where to start? I wonder. The cat flashes through my mind and I glare at a desk, polished and like new, and remove a hatchet from the center drawer.

I tie some twine at the base of her tail and bring the axe down sharply and quickly without hesitation and remove the blasted appendage. The mutt thrashes and whimpers against her binds as the tail squirms slightly even though it’s free of its owner. I use the axe blade to slide it off the base of the table and let it fall to the floor.

I place the axe below the table, out of my way, and pet the whimpering dogs belly. The look only dogs and ponies have reflects back to me. She’s pleading for an answer, why that just happened. “I can explain for days what’s going to happen to you, but you’ll never understand until the moment before you die,” I tell her as I take a flathead screwdriver from my toys and bring it to the dogs mouth.

“Now, let’s see your mouth, shall we?” I ask as I move over its head. It lunges with a vicious bark it lunges at me and bites, but I don’t flinch, not anymore. I know the limits of my rope tying skills are strong enough and where to stop to stay just out of injury. The dog, not so much. With another yelp and thrashing it sprays droplets of blood around as it shakes the screwdriver from it’s lower jaw.

Of all the ways to attack dogs never change their tactics and move the same way, so I know to hold the screwdriver at just the right angle so with a slight move on my part it will enter just below where the chin is, the crest of the lower mandible, I believe.

It shakes the tool loose and I stay on guard incase it flies towards me, but I instead watch it fly shortly and clatter to the floor, rolling under an armoire. “Nice distance,” I mention in passing thought as I look to the dog again. It’s bleeding slightly from its wound but not enough to worry about.

I ignore its noises as I take a small hammer and a crossed screwdriver, as its name eludes me so that’s what I call it, and bring it to the dog’s right paw but stop. I look into its eyes and see it pleading with me to stop. It’s whimpering is becoming annoying so I cast a silence spell on my head so I can’t hear it for a moment while I think.

A screwdriver isn’t what this calls for, no. Ah! Perhaps something a little more mundane and basic. Let me see, I think as I make my way to my desk of accessories. I smile as a box of screws catches my eye. “Yes, this will do most nicely!” I take them in my magic and prance happily to the bound animal.

I take several screws and cancel my silence spell before moving a screw to the front right paw. It’s easily long enough to screw into the table! Oh, this will be delightful! I giggle to myself as I align the screw to the middle of its paw and carefully maneuver the screwdriver into place. I roll my eyes at myself and move around the table so I can closely watch the action.

Now in the right place I reset my accessories to my toy’s paw and holding the screw still I move in close and watch intently as the screw begins to slowly turn and descend into the animal’s body. It howls in pain and thrashes violently against the bindings as I watch a third of the screw disappear into its flesh, then the screw stops. I turn hard a couple times and huff. Bones, I forgot about that. “Puppy, time to play a little game I call ‘crack the nut’.” I take the hammer from the other side of the table and don’t wait. The hammer impacts the screw and I wish I could hear if there was a crack or not, but the dog is almost wailing in its howl.

I actually prefer the louder noises it makes, because I know I’m playing right. I turn the screw again and it moves freely through its paw and I press hard and with luck it penetrates the thin metal and locks the limb to the table! I’m overjoyed with myself, as I’ve never done this before. I do the same to the other paw and now the creature’s noises are dying off. It’s tiring out already and I can’t have that.

I call over a large bag and open the zipper slightly, enough to remove a single hard covered syringe. I give it a test plunge and watch at the liquid inside squirts through the needle. Taking a lesson from my veterinarian friend I place it to the inner thigh of the creature and inject it. I hold it still for a count of ten and move the spent syringe to the edge of the table and let it fall onto the floor. The dog is stirring again now, it’s body is moving with vigor and its bladder releases as it howls and whines, crying into the room for help or release, neither will come anytime soon.

I take my time over the next two hours and with careful precision learned from hundreds of other small animals. With the gift of magic I take her apart while she’s alive and then release her from all my spells and let her die.

It’s, just not the same anymore, I sigh as I look to the open cavity of the dog’s body. From neck to it’s vulva, sliced open and empty. The innards are in piles on the floor and I’m covered in its blood. Limbs disjointed, bones exposed but, the thrill isn’t the same as it was. I’ve played with enough cats and dogs over the years to know almost exactly what noises they’ll make and what to do to them to end our play time.

I have mastered the art of cats and dogs, birds and snakes… I need a new playmate… A pony, perhaps? That mudpony that made a point to try to trick me. He’ll be here in three days, when his contract with Whitemane is over and before he leaves Canterlot for a new city to waste space in. I call to the bucket by the door and gawk at it. It’s empty! There should be water in it, yet it’s dry. Grey Withers, I should put you on this table for this, I seethe and glare at the water faucet on the wall that’s just horn height for me. It’s in a small shower that I’d expect a commoner pony to use in a cheap hotel in the slums.

Emergency well water, how am I to know that a mudpony didn’t swim in the reservoir, or a cloud humper didn’t pee in the streams this was harvested from? I have no choice and trot over and turn it on. The pipes rumble at first then a splurt of water, then another, and finally the water itself is running down the drainpipe that leads into the aqueduct waste systems. I look and sniff the water, it seems fine enough, especially given the circumstances.

I stand under the spigot and let the ice cold water wash over me and I watch the red wash down the drain. After a while it’s clear and I take the soap from the bucket and scrub myself, to make sure I’m clean and smelling nice.

I put the carcase in the box and close the top, leaving the rest for Grey Withers to clean up and pack away. When I return I will cast a simple spell, after which it seals itself and teleports away to where I don’t know, but it’s not yet drawn attention, apparently.

Alas, I don’t even feel a tinge of joy anymore at the effort I put into playing, perhaps I should find a new way to ease my mind.

I redress and make my way from my playroom, sealing it before I ascend the stairs. “Grey Withers!” I call. He’s in the dining room and speaking with Fleur and a servant mare as I exit the kitchen door. “Oh, am I early for supper?”

“Yes, Fancy! Darling, did you know Brown Bark here was born on the seas?”

“Oh? A family of sailors?”

“No, Master,” she speaks softly, “my parents were on a cruise and I happened to come early. I’ll go, Master. I apologize for intruding on your meal-”

“Dear, stay, I’m certain Master Fancy Pants wouldn’t mind your entertaining me while the stallions chat.”

I wiggle my moustache as I contemplate. “I believe that would be fine, however Grey Withers rarely eats with me.”

“I agree with Fleur. I haven’t eaten in this room in far too long with Fancy Pants here. What do you say, Sir, may I join you?”

He looks so hopeful I can’t say no. “Very well! I’ll take my seat, though. Thank you for guarding it, Grey Withers. Shall we begin?”

“Cooks! First course, post haste!” He calls and I hear a scramble of platters and hooves before three servants begin to bring our meals out. While they’re setting our plates before us he’s scrutinizing them, as usual. I see his eyes narrow at a stallion who flattens his ears to his head but maintains his posture as he finishes his task and leaves the room.

“What was that about, old chap?” I ask the older stallion.

“Absolutely nothing, but he’ll think he did something and will do his best to find out what it was until he practically goes mad,” he chuckles and looks to his plate of pasta with sauce and rice balls, “then he won’t make mistakes next time and be a better example for the others.”

“Hrm, that’s quite a smart tactic, Grey Withers,” I offer.

“Yes, it works for servants and young stallions the same.” We all share a laugh and I can’t help but recall the same tactic being used on a much younger self, now that I think about it.

We finish our meals over the next hour and I notice Brown Bark opening up quite well with Fleur. It seems they’re actually becoming friends, which is nice to see, as Fleur will need somepony to gossip with over the long winter months. Oh my, I’m actually thinking of being with her months from now?

” Cooks! Cleanup!” Grey Withers shouts as he enters the kitchen. A clamoring of hooves and then two pegasi enter the dining room stoically and proud, beginning to collect our dishes.

“Grey WIthers, would you walk with me while the mares finish their talk?” I send him a look that includes my intent.

He nods and follows me into the hall.

“Yes, Sir?”

“A bucket?” I ask sardonically.

“Ah, I figured you were old enough to fill it yourself from the faucet, is that all?” He’s so casual about it, he knows he’s the anchor to my life.

“I need something exciting next time.”

“Oh? Like what, may I ask, a bear?”

“The usual aren’t working. I have an acquaintance coming this weekend and I need to show him a good time.” He stops and I look back to see the horror on his face. He isn’t moving as I continue my trot and turn the corner. It’s unlike him to not catch up, I certainly hope I haven’t put too much on him lately. I’ll be certain to give him a day off monday, he’s earned it.

He catches up quickly and stammers. “What are you babbling about, Grey Withers?”

“I, uh, w-well…”

“Out with it, stallion.”

“I am not comfortable with this stallion playing with you over the weekend, Sir.”

“I don’t understand. A houseguest is just that, a guest. If I should play with him, then he’ll surely have fun as well, right?”

“But,” he moves in front of me and looks at me with an expression I haven’t seen him wear before, almost a pleading look. “a pony? Fancy,” he hushes his voice, “are you seriously suggesting-”

I lower my voice to not be heard by prying ears. “I am, and I shall. I am Lord of Land in Equestria, I will be Lord of the bodies of my subjects as well.”

He blinks as he stares into my eyes. “You’re serious… I, I need to prepare for breakfast, I’ll see you this evening, Sir.”

“Yes, have a fine day until then, I certainly shall,” I say jovially as I return to my trot. When has he ever prepared breakfast as soon as supper was finished? I wonder.

I make my way to my library and spend two hours reading through the medical book and memorizing muscles, bones, and vein pathways and patterns. When a knock against the doorframe breaks me from my reading I blink and take in the time on the clock with bleary eyes. “Master, you’re being summoned to bed with Miss Fleur de Lis.”

“Ah, I lost track of time reading again… Aloe Vera, right?”

“Yes, Master,” she bows her head and I notice her wings trembling.

“Miss, are you afraid of me?” I ask casually. A servant afraid of their master is of little concern to me, after all, yet nice to know.

“No, Master. If you’d excuse me I must attend to other duties.”

I hum in agreement and stand as the mare leaves. I stretch a little, yawn, put away my book, then make my way to bed.

With Fleur talking to me about her conversation with that talking parrot she befriended I fall asleep to the sound of her voice.

Chapter 5 (c)

The night passed too quickly and I woke as I normally had, only this time with Fleur at my side. I smelled her mane and smiled to myself as I let the scent fill my nostrils. I have to admit to myself soon that I care for her in a way I haven’t cared for another in too many years. I may even love her. But, such affection in such a short amount of time? Less than a week and I have fallen for a mare I would have spat upon before I met her, more for sullying the honor of our tribe than her life path. Now, I wonder if I will ever look down upon another mare of the night again. I haven’t seen another, yet, but when I do what, will I feel? Think? Do? This is almost too much for me to fathom at the moment, so I suppose I shall start my day.

I move her foreleg from my barrel and gently lift her head and start to slip out of her embrace, but she stirs. “Hrrm, Sweetie,” she murmurs, “I love you.” Then she hums and falls back asleep. A smile tugs at my mouth as I finally slip free and replace myself with a couple pillows strategically placed to keep her asleep and comfortable for a while longer. I linger for a full moment and watch her sleep before I brush a few stray hairs from her face with my magic and feel a flutter in my chest as her face is framed beautifully in this moment.

I move back and start my morning routine from choosing my clothes from my wardrobe to breakfast. Grey Withers is unusually quiet this morning, even after reading my overall agenda. “Grey Withers, is everything alright?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Something is amiss… you’re not planning a surprise party for me, are you?” I asked as I took a large bite of redberry muffin.

He was silent for a little too long before he spoke. “I, don’t know if I can help you with your, relaxation activities anymore.”

“Ah, so you are overworked. You may take the rest of the day off with pay, and half of next week… after this weekend, of course.”

A silence I wasn’t expecting fell over the dining room and I looked around to see him staring sorrowfully at me. “Mister Fancy Pants, I’ve been with your family since before you were a colt, but I believe the time has come for me to find a new family to care for.”

“Grey With-” I start with a bit of feigned shock.

“It has been a pleasure and I wish you the best of luck with your life, going forward,” he stammers before he gets up and trots past me.

I will miss him, but he’s doing what’s best for himself. Now, who shall replace him?

A voice from out of sight minutes later gets my attention. “Master?”

I swallow and look over to my left, an unusual thing to do it seems since Grey Withers was always to my right during my morning meal. “Yes?”

“I’d like to take his position,” a younger mare offers.

It has been an unusual day indeed. Love, loss, gain? What should one make of this? “I don’t recall your name, but what qualifications do you have?”

“Wind Rider, Master. I have worked here for several years, since I was a filly, and I’ve made my way from scrubbing pots to now running errands and taking notes for Grey Withers as a secretary, of sorts, Master.”

Wind Rider? What a cliche pegasus name, why don’t they all just have five words about the sky to choose from to make their names? Oh wait, they do. Still, she apparently has ambition and experience. I can take her on at this moment, simply leaving out my personal activities until I can trust her, if ever. Hrm, I now see where I may miss his secrecy and efforts to please me.

“I will decide this evening if you’ll have the position. Consider yourself on trial. you may leave.”

“Y-yes, Master.”

I’m alone again and finish my meal and leave my place setting as it is. I have often wondered who cleans up my place setting. Was it Grey Withers, or perhaps another servant? Someday, I may find out. Today is not that day.

I make for the doorway to the outside and after it’s open I stop suddenly at the threshold. It’s not that I don’t have a pony wishing me a fine day, but that I don’t feel, complete? Is that even the right word? Alone? Empty, is apt as well. I look around me and sigh. No Grey Withers, no Wind Rider behind him. Interesting how I never noticed her; until now, she was a mere shadow behind him for so long.

I need my marefriend.

I backstep and leave the door open as I ascend the staircase and make a stop by a changing room and check the mirrors to make certain I’m presentable before I return to my room and the mare sleeping in my bed. I look at her as I did an hour ago and feel a flutter in my chest as I again stare at her sleeping form.

Gently, I reach a foreleg out and press it to her chest, nudging her slightly. When she doesn’t stir I nudge her again. “Fleur, we must make haste, for I’m running a bit late, darling.”

She hums and squeezes her eyes tight as she yawns while stretching her legs, shivering as her yawn ends. Her eyes open and I look at her smile forming when she sees me.

“Good morning, Fancy Pants. I had a wonderful sleep, did you?”

“With you by my side, the best in years.” My, what did I just say? That was positively romantic impoverization.

“Aww, you’re so sweet. I must use the ladies’ room and then I’ll be along shortly. Is there fruit on the table still or have you not eaten yet?”

“I have eaten and there is still most of breakfast ready and awaiting you. However, I must encourage you to eat fast as I have a social gathering to attend in an hours time nearly at the edge of Canterlot herself.”

She inhales deeply and rolls backwards completely, landing on the floor and all her hooves. “I’ll be quick, meet me just outside.”

“I shall wait for as long as you’ll have me.”

She giggles at my words and I feel my cheeks warm in a rare blush. I wait for her to leave and then follow, skipping the bathroom and going to the front door again, this time I’m able to leave. I wait outside for a short while, taking in the sounds of the city just past my gates.

“Fancy, I’m here and ready to go,” she says. I turn to look at her and have to raise my monocle to my eye at the beauty I behold. This mare is as lovely as ever as she poses, supporting her mane in her hoof.

“Darling, I’m the luckiest stallion in the city to be in your presence. Shall we go?”

“Certainly!” she chirps and closes the door with her magic before trotting to my side and leaning in to kiss me softly on the cheek.

Without a word, for I can find none, we begin our journey to the train station. We make it with time to spare and talk about what to wear for Summer’s End, as it is nearing.

I hear the train approaching before I see it and wait as it arrives. The engine hisses and blows white steam across the platform and I watch as ponies begin to depart. Finally I see the one I was looking for, the one I must take to lunch and then be rid of, hopefully.

“Octavia! It’s so nice to see you again after all this time,” I chime happily and nuzzle her per courtesy, not preference.

“Lord Fancy Pants,” she grins widely as she looks me over. “Yes, it has been a while. Please, take my bag, I’m tired and am ready to relax at the spa.”

I take her bag in my magic and note that it looks more like her musical instrument of choice than a traveling bag. “Spa? I wasn’t aware that was on your itinerary.”

“Yes, well I changed it from what my associate stated. I’ve had a long week and need a massage, as you can understand, I’m sure.”

“Oh, yes, of course I do,” I smile awkwardly. “Had I not been yesterday I certainly would go again, but I’m not yet in need of-”

“I’ll go with her,” Fleur quickly offers.

“Hello, my name is Octavia, and you are?”

“Fleur de Lis, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, shall we go now, or shall I show you around?”

“Fancy, would you mind if we had some mare time? You will have more time to do whatever stallions do to pass the time.”

My smile falters. “You may do as you please, my ladies. I shall meet you in two hours outside the spa nearest the castle.”

“Two and a half, Fancy,” Fleur corrected, “a mare needs time to unwind while being pampered.”

The mares share a warm smile and I nod. “I see no problem with that, and following we shall have lunch?”

“I would love that! Pardon my enthusiasm, but I rarely have time to rest these days,” Octavia starts to walk away with Fleur as I watch. Their voices are quickly drowned out by hoofsteps all around me and then they’re gone.

I then realize I’m still in possession of the cello shaped travel bag and sigh in defeat as I make my way from the platform and to the gentlestallion’s club.

Not a bad place, per se, however watching stallions and mares in hind clothing only, dancing seductively with each other is always enough to embarrass me.

I Do believe I'll skip the private session this time, though.

I make my presence known to the mares as they exit the spa. “Greetings, young mares, have you seen- Oh my! You two are so lovely I could barely recognize you,” I grin to the duo that blush at my words.

“Oh, stop it you,” Octavia sways, walking to me and nuzzling me. Fleur follows suit and adds a kiss to my cheek, then winks to Octavia. They share a giggle and I resist rolling my eyes at their antics.

“Inside joke?” I inquire.

They burst into a giggle fit and I understand the joke is probably at my expense. I care not, so I magic Octavia’s bag into her view and wait until they calm slightly. “Oh, my bag, thank you for keeping it, Fancy. I appreciate it,” she smiles to me warmly.

“How about lunch, ladies? On me.”

“Oh, I’m positively famished. I haven’t had but some berries this morning in my rush to meet you, especially after all the gushing Fancy spoke about.”

I turn away to roll my eyes and make a steady trot as they talk and follow. Shortly, they begin gossipping as though I weren’t there at all and I hear some things about ponies they know that I’d never had known and overall don’t care about either way. We arrive at a nice, cheap cafe for soup and sandwiches. I order a FLT and Octavia follows suit complimenting my taste in sandwiches, but we each order different soups.

Mine is a nice onion cream that compliments the flowers in my flower, lettuce, tomato sandwich quite well, and I watch Fleur enjoy hers as well, while the mud pony uses her fetlock to hold the spoon and leans over her soup like a dog at the bowl for each slurp. She’s refined, for sure, yet there’s something one cannot overcome, and that’s status and class in the hierarchy of Canterlot.

I finish the last of my sandwich by dipping it in the last of the soup and eating it with a smile as the combined flavors tickle my tastebuds in a way I hadn’t expected and I exclaim my enjoyment loud enough to earn a giggle from the mares. “My, I haven’t heard him enjoy food that much, yet.”

I smile to Fleur and nod. “Dear, there are many things you have yet to learn of me and see me do.”

She covers her mouth with her hoof and giggles again. “Fancy Pants, certainly you’re an enigma wrapped in a riddle at times.”

We finish our meal and I feel a change of plans is necessary. “Ladies, would you two care for a walk in the park?” They like the idea and we make way to one of the parks in the district to aid in digestion. Nearly an hour to get there at the pace we move at drags my spirits a bit lower.

“Fancy, what is your thought on Octavia spending the night tonight?” Fleur asks after I don’t know how long we’ve been at the park, but it’s past noon now. I’ve accomplished none of my scheduled tasks and it weighs on me, save for meeting Octavia.

I sigh and look between them as we trot, one mare to each side of me and when my eyes meet Fleur’s I can’t help but feel flutters in my chest again. I feel a smile form on my muzzle and I answer before I can think. “Certainly, darling. We have plenty of space and rooms we rarely use,” I state as we trot.

Did I really just say ‘we’ so casually? I wonder as my gaze returns to the path we’re on. Foals play at a toy, thing that they play on… Ah, playground, that’s the word, and their laughing garners the attention of the mares who trot faster and leave me behind while they begin to talk about how cute the young are. I swear I hear them whispering something about having foals of their own and I roll my eyes. Normally stallions are the ones that have those hopes and dreams, but here in Canterlot stallions have the option to work while the mares stay home.

It’s nice to have that luxury, I believe stallions don’t get the same respect as mares in our society. I recall being mommy’s little prince when I was a colt. She kept buying me new pets when they would run away, or so I told her. There’s a reason I loved her, and it’s because she kept me safe, happy, and supplied with pets to experiment with.

I sit beside the mares as they whisper and giggle, my plans for the day having been put by the wayside by their need to have me… wait, I have no reason to stay, they are more than capable of entertaining each other far better than I can. “Ladies, would you mind if I took my leave? I have an engagement I was hoping to finish before it became too late.”

“Aww, can we come?” Octavia offered. I thought about it.

“It’s merely a Wonderbolts race, nothing tha-”

“Oh! I love the Wonderbolts, and you get to see them race? I simply must to see them, Fleur, let’s go!” I can’t help but smile at both their sudden energy as they prance in place and begin to talk about sports like hoofball and bowling, favorite players and teams from across the lands as we make our way to the stadium. I pay for our tickets with bits from my pocket and place a small bet on Spitfire, as she’s my favorite racer. Something about the dark orange in her mane that reminds of my mother’s eyes.

We cheer politely as the race begins and then watch with reserved cultured calm as the race continues and concludes with Spitfire victorious. The lower classes are cheering like drunken fools while those of us in a higher standing clop a hoof on the railing in approval before talking with one another. “That was a splendid race! I can’t imagine ever flying, though. An earth pony’s place is on the ground, however, I refuse to get dirty,” Octavia states, “it’s quite the conundrum, to be tethered to the ground yet not like it upon your body.”

“Oh, I agree. Imagine being a white coated pony, it only shows all the more and stepping in the water after a rain splashes water up to my knees, and don’t get me started on mud,” she smiles.

“Fleur, that’s so sad. Don’t you know any spells to clean up such a mess?”

“I do, Octavia, however I have to be in a dry place, otherwise it’s a moot point.”

I excuse myself and leave to collect my winnings and then place another bet before I return, this time I place my winnings on Soarin. Never bet on the same winner twice, I’ve learned. I stand and watch as they set up the next race and ignore the mares talking like school fillies behind me, ignoring the race. I don’t understand them, how can they claim to enjoy a sport but pay it no attention? The race begins and concludes with me not winning, but I’ve made up the cost of entry so I take solace in that.

“Ladies, time to go. It’s nearing three in the afternoon already, and I’d like to show Octavia the finer parts of the city.”

They smile to each other and nod. “Let’s go,” they say in unison and giggle to each other.

I see they’re already best friends, it’s nice to see them so close.

I take the lead and make my way to the street where I flag a taxi. I shan’t wear my hooves down anymore today. We climb into the taxi and inform the mud pony pulling us that we’d like a tour of the city. She agrees and takes us to the most notable places and historic buildings and I tell the story of them while Fleur takes the lead on shopping and eateries.

I also make certain to pay the driver twice what the tab is, because she did a very good job and kept a great pace.

The sun is nearly ready to set when we arrive back home and I lead the mares inside. I prepare to call for Grey Withers when I recall he quit this morning. “Fancy, where’s Grey Withers, I thought he greeted you when you arrived at home?”

I tell them about his resignation and they express their sorrow at his choice and I can’t help but wonder what will happen in the future. I don’t recall the mare that offered to replace him until I see her out of the corner of my eye. “Ah, Wind Rider, are you ready to take the reigns of Grey Withers?”

The mares look over and take in the sight of the nervous mare making her way to us. “Yes, Master, how can I serve you?”

‘A pegasus?’ Fleur mouths to me and I nod in reply.

“Wind Rider, please have supper started at once and we’ll take our bath immediately following. Have a bed made up for our guest here at once. I’ll take a coffee in the morning with some salt, and I’m feeling adventurous so I’ll have an omlette with my breakfast tomorrow. I expect the same options as usual in the same proportions,” I began as I levitated my overcoat off myself and tossed it to the pegasus who was obviously overwhelmed, which is my goal.

I continue to ramble about what I’d like in as much detail as I can while we make our way to the library and finish with telling her to prepare my itinerary for tomorrow as I close the doors behind Octavia with a flourish of my mane and a dashing smile to add to the new mare’s intimidation.

“My, was that necessary, Fancy?” Octavia asks.

“Of course. If she wishes to jump into such mighty horseshoes she has to be ready for everything. She will panic and we will see how she handles it, however most of the staff already knows the routine and won’t offer her aid because of her enthusiasm. If she survives the rest of the week, I’ll consider paying her more for the part, as well.”

The mares giggle. “You’re not paying her to be your senior assistant?”

“She never asked for pay, simply the job itself. She’ll see a very significant raise, should she succeed to fulfill half of what Grey Withers had to offer, should she negotiate such,” I wink before I turn to my desk and move two large pillows for the mares to rest on while they read books of their choosing while I take the medical book I most recently aquired out and begin to study terms and locations parts of the pony body.

The primary functions of the pony endocrine system? I, don’t believe I need this. Where are the internal organs and approximate locations? Nervous system? Muscle patterns? Blood flow, maybe... I thought I bookmarked the pages. Ah, here we are, page 322, introduction to processes of internal workings of equine biology.

Equine biology is as complex as it is efficient for processing an herbivore diet with minimal animal meat protein tolerance…

My eyes widen as I read on and find out I can actually eat a small amount of actual meat before I risk illness. Having never known anything beyond fish as the mightiest of meats, I now had a desire to visit a gryphon shop in town and try some animal meat. I imagine it will be better than the soy proteins we eat so often, and with more variety all animals may taste different as well.

We all read our respective books on our own in silence, save for the rapid turning of pages on my part as I can not seem to read enough before there’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” I call suddenly, loudly, and watch the door open quickly and the pegasus that wishes to be my assistant hovering and out of breath.

“S-supper is, ready, Master,” she pants and then turns to fly away before telling us where and wishing us a fine meal, among other simple courtesies I’ve come to call normal. I snort as I rise and trot around the desk, putting away my book in the top drawer before I go too far.

“Come, ladies, it seems the stress has begun to take its toll on her and we’re in for a treat.”

Fleur claps her hooves together and giggles. “Dinner and a show.”

“Oh, it’s been ages,” Octavia adds as they follow me out. I catch a glimpse of the pegasus’ tail turning a corner as we make our way to the dining hall. The table is set, but there are no cups of fruit juice on the table. Strike one. I take my seat and quickly move my spoon to the floor under the table and the mares each hide a utensil themselves. With a sly nod we wait for Wind Rider to arrive and we don’t need to wait long as she trots in and bows to me.

“Master, I apologize for the delay, your meal is coming right n-” she stops as she looks at the place settings and covers her mouth with a hoof. “I’ll be right back,” she says hopping into the air and flying quickly from the room. Before I can make a comment I hear her voice from the kitchen, and she is upset.

The three of us look to each other and she returns from around the corner with replacement cutlery and silverware for what we had ‘misplaced’. “I apologize, ladies and Master, I believe I’m being tested of my skills and abilities by the whole staff today,” she exhales as she finishes setting the last spoon before me. She claps her hooves together and a unicorn servant enters the room with a pitcher of juice and three cups on a silver tray.

I look to the mares and nod with them subtlely our approval of Wind Rider’s ability. We begin talking of our day and eating while Wind Rider takes charge of the meal in hushed orders and whispers to the staff that are now below her authority. I can see they dislike her at the moment, but they’ll warm up to her in time.

Supper is over within an hour and we spend another talking. I must say, I enjoy the company of Octavia more than I ever had before. Perhaps she’s not just a mud pony… regardless of what I may feel she does have redeeming qualities, and Fleur has taken to her quite quickly. I take a moment to listen to the talk and feel myself so smitten over Fleur that I can’t take my eyes off her.

Wind Rider trots into the room and collects out plates. “Will there be anything else, Sir?”

My blood boils at her usage of my title. The mares glance at me and smirk before returning to their conversation, ears pointed to me to hear what I’m to say. “Wind Rider?” I ask with masterful restraint.

“Yeah, dude?” Her eyes widen and she covers her mouth in shock.

My eyes narrow as I look at her. “You have yet earned the privilege to call me that.”

“S-sir?”

“Leave, now.”

“As you wish,” she bows lightly.

I grumble as a desire to pluck every feather from the mares wings almost comes to fruition. The thought of her begging me to stop relaxes me and I gather spells before I hear filly like whispers. “Oh, somepony is staring at you,” I hear Octavia whisper loudly to my beloved, who then glances to me and giggles.

“I say, you two are certainly in good spirits,” I say to break the moment of rage and embarrassment I have trotted into, “perhaps a bath and then bed?”

Octavia claps her hooves together and grins. “I do so need a bath to end such a fine day with friends. Will it be with all of us?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have it any other way! We must have a bath together, right, Fancy?”

I gulp at the prospect of sharing a bath with a mud pony, but if it will please Fleur. “Indeed. Regardless, a bath a day keeps the doctor away.”

Half an hour later we’re undressed in the bathroom and the tub is filled three quarters with hot water, scented with herbs and flora that are designed to relax the body and mind. Octavia, being the guest, is allowed to enter first, followed by Fleur then I. “Ah, it’s perfect. Another point to Wind, I must say.”

“Quite, it’s a wonder you doubted her at all in the first place. What was with your reaction earlier, we were wondering.”

“Well, Fleur, after nearly a lifetime with Grey Withers, I had little choice but to replace him with another. It was simply fortunate she came along at the right moment, however as a Lord of the eastern lands of Equestria I simply require my servants to call me Master, as I am so far above them, you understand. None mind, mind you, regardless if they did I would require it from any that I don’t hold respect for.”

Fleur smiles with her eyes closed as she sinks into the water. “Ah, yes. I completely understand, as I don’t offer respect, it must be earned.”

“Indeed,” Octavia adds with a nod. She submerges herself and reemerges, a content smile on her face and her mane flowing freely.

Fleur peeks an eye open and looks at the mare. “Octavia, we have a full supply of mane care products. I’ve made certain of it. You’re more than welcome to them, followed by a fine grooming to relax every muscle under your skin.”

Octavia hums. “Miss Fleur, that sounds amazing. Are there assistants that are to help me, or shall I groom myself?”

“Oh, I’m certain there’s at least one servant here who would be willing to help, right, Fancy?”

“Hrm? Oh, yes, indeed. I’ll arrange for it once we’re finished here. She’ll meet you in your room soon after.”

“May I request a stallion to groom me?”

Fleur gasps in mock surprise. “Octavia, you tease! I know what you’re thinking.”

“A mare must relax every part of her body before a concert is what I believe, inside and out.”

Fleur giggles loudly. “Your concert isn’t for two more days.”

“Then I’ll have to have a stallion groom me each of them,” she said casually, then opened her eyes and blushed fiercely. “Ah, Fancy, I forgot you were there for a moment, please accept my apologies.”

I smirk to her and slide myself under the water, the feeling of warm water flooding into my ears is wonderful. I emerge and wipe my eyes on my posterns. “I apologize, I was underwater and wasn’t listening.”

“A gentlecolt always,” Fleur compliments me. I nod once and relax myself in the water as Fleur moves some shampoo to Octavia and begins assisting in her bathing. I can barely await my turn to feel her hooves and magic on my body.

I wait and feel hooves against my barrel and smile as they start massaging my fur and I lean back, letting the feeling clear my mind. I feel myself unsheathing and don’t mind until I hear a gasp that isn’t Fleur. With surprise I open my eyes to see Octavia, her muzzle inches from my mine and a sultry look in her eyes.

“I think he likes me,” she says breathily. I look over to Fleur, who’s smiling deviously as this earth pony cleans me, my rod pressing into her abdomen. “I wonder how much,” she leans forward and presses her lips to mine. Never had I imagined I would touch lips with the lowest class of pony, but it’s not a bad experience.

It is nearly upsetting when Fleur breaks the kiss with a force of magic. “Now, now. He’s mine and I’ll decide when to share him, and the bath isn’t the place. Now, let’s both wash my darling before we go to our separate bedrooms for the evening.

I’ve never been subject to such embarrassment in the bath in my life. However, it was overshadowed by being washed by two mares. Fleur taking care of my underbody while Octavia washed my back and sides. My reproductive parts seemed to be fair game to them both and I felt my primal urges growing until they finished. Then it was Fleur’s turn. Her lips pressed to mine when I started shampooing her mane and then she freely kissed Octavia, her forelegs draping over the other mare’s and moving her hooves below the water.

I can only imagine what mares may typically do when they bathe at this point. Is this a common occurrence or simply a show for me? Gratitude, perhaps? I care not as my urges take over and I move behind the earth pony mare and hitch my forelegs to her hips. She doesn’t resist as I press my rod against her, only to feel a hoof stroke my shaft. It’s not Octavia’s.

I’m guided inside the grey pony by my darling and their kissing becomes inflamed and passionate. The more I thrust inside this mare the more they both begin to pant and moan. So much for the bath being a special place for Fleur and I.

We switch positions so I’m between them and Fleur guides Octavia onto me, easily taking me inside her to the hilt, only facing me in an awkward display of affection. The mares spend enough time nuzzling and biting me that I reach my climax and spray my unfettered seed inside the mare holding me against my darling, Fleur.

The grey mare rides me faster, her hooves against my chest is a most unusual feeling as she bares her teeth and grunts, grinding slower and harder against my loins before exhaling a hard breath and giggling. “Wow, that was amazing, Fleur,” she says as she leans in and nuzzles my cheek.

“I told you he was. And you didn’t believe me,” I can hear Fleur whine slightly.

Octavia removes herself from me and the water is colored briefly white with my seed that spills from her. “It’s not that I didn’t believe you, it’s that I expected more of a fight.”

Fleur pushes me slightly so I’m off her and I now notice my tail was between her legs. She shudders as I pull it free and realize she was having fun as well. “No, he’s a stallion and we’re two mature, ample mares. It’s only natural that--”

I tune them out as I realize I was merely a tool and they’re talking about me as such. Normally I might take offense, however this time I don’t mind. I can be used like this, on occassion, I suppose.”

Chapter 6

I awoke slowly, a warm body against my back and a cool breath blew upon my mane. It wasn’t until I felt my forelegs move did I realize I had another body against my front. Grey, black… the evening, post bath, flashes before my mind’s eye and I recall passionate kissing, sucking, lots of licking. Sex in positions I had thought below me were done as naturally as a morning stretch. An errant hoof in a place I’d rather not recall, several times I enjoyed it… and the feeling of love and completeness as I fell into a blissful slumber.

Part of me instinctively wants to recoil from the mare I’m embracing, but a larger part quickly gives in and I pull her closer to me with my legs. Her mane smells of sweat and cherries.

I hum contently as I lay between the two mares for perhaps an hour before Octavia stirs first. With a yawn she announces her wakefulness just before she squeaks quietly and scoots from my embrace. I pretend to be sleeping while watching her from the crack of an open eyelid as she trots quickly to the lavatory.

My ears are privy to the sounds of her morning release and, for some reason, I feel a sense of embarrassment for eavesdropping on something so common and natural. Especially after what we had done several hours prior.

She returns with clean hooves and climbs into bed, stopping to look at me for a few seconds before turning around and scooting back into my embrace.

What is happening to me? I should be disgusted, or at least repulsed at this mare’s presence in my chambers, yet I feel content with her here, and with what we all did last night. I have no qualms of her being in my bed, room, or even house. Perhaps Fleur is influencing me, but I find myself feeling more happy with each day and event with her. More normal.

Nature makes its call to me as I lay so comfortably and I choose to ignore it until Fleur stirs and turns over to get comfortable in a different position. I quietly, yet hurriedly, make my way out of the bed and to the lavatory where the scent of last night punches me in the muzzle like a wagon full of watermelons.

The scent of mine and Octavia’s fluids permeate the air in a pleasing and commanding way. I feel a sense of pride well in my chest as I feel I dominated her. As though she, for one night, was mine.

I do my business and as I’m leaving Fleur rushes past and takes her position to relieve herself. “Wait, Fancy,” she calls and I stop in time to hear her begin to release water, “I wanted to thank you for last night. I know it was sudden, all of it, and it wasn’t planned, but you took it in stride and I appreciate that.”

I clear my throat as the new scent of Fleur mixes into the air and my knees feel weak. “I don’t mind, it was a wonderful experience. My first of that kind, if you must know.”

She is silent for a second and I hear toilet tissue being used. I’m about to take my leave when she speaks again, softly. “Fancy, I didn’t know. I’m sorry, if I had I would have made it special.”

“I’m sorry?” I ask looking back to see her looking away. “Dear, what’s wrong?”

“Your first time with two mares, it’s supposed to be special and I didn’t make it special.”

I move to her and lift her chin with my hoof. “Darling, it was the most unexpected and amazing thing that’s ever happened to me in bed, second to our first night.” She sniffles and leans closer to nuzzle me. I recoil. “Ah, perhaps in a moment. Given our current situation.”

Her eyes widen and pupils shrink slightly as she nods fervently. “Yes! Away with you, let a mare finish in privacy,” she waves a hoof to the door. I nod and take my leave glancing back once to see her eyes fixated on my tail. I stop just before I completely leave the room and swish my tail once before I close the door behind me and go to the closet.

I pick out my clothes and move to the entryway before I realize I won’t be groomed because I have guests. How long has it been since I was groomed before I left this room? Does it matter? I wonder as I dress myself quickly and check the clarity of my monocle. My moustache is a bit out of sorts, I’ll have Grey Withers… oh, that’s right. I’ll trim it myself before I leave. I decide.

I wait for Fleur to leave the lavatory and time seems to crawl until then. When she exits and sees me, she stands with the poise of regality. “I want to make sure I look my best for you.”

“A pony of fine taste, indeed,” I nod. “Where did you learn such a stance, if I may inquire?”

“Lessons. Hours and hours of lessons. Lessons until my legs felt broken and my back so sore it hurt to move. Yes, lessons.”

She stands with perfect posture, even her mane seems to be perfect. “Fleur, I had no idea you could look so ravishing and beautiful.”

She walks slowly to the bed like fine silk blowing in an unseen breeze without a hint of trouble. She canters sideways and smiles at me, raises a hoof and waves with a twist.

“Doesn't that hurt a bit?”

“It's positively excruciating,” she responds softly, composed and calm, smiling pleasantly. She lowers her hoof and lowers her front slowly, extending her right leg into a bow that stops half way.

She rises after several seconds and I wince as her joints crack as she goes. “That, is only some of what I had to learn to be in my family. A greeting worthy of the princess herself.

“Possibly the third reason I left,” she relaxes with a deep inhale then sigh,”the others I'll tell you later, but for now, Fancy, understand that I appreciate who and what you are.” She flexes her legs one at a time.

“Thank you for sharing, Dear. I'm ready to hear anything you have to say.”

Octavia stirs and rolls out of the bed quickly, looking at the clock against the far wall. The one that's shadowed at night and I rarely even notice on the best of nights.

“I thought I was late,” Octavia sighs, “may we have a moment, as mares?”

Fleur nods. “Fancy, I’ll be down with Octavia in several minutes. I must make sure she’s presentable as well.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m only glad you both don’t wear outfits, otherwise I would see you for lunch at the soonest,” I say with a dignified bow.

A pillow flies from the bed and slaps me across the face as I rise and I stumble in surprise. The mares giggle at my expense. “For that, perhaps us ladies should try a few items from the wardrobe. What do you think, Octavia?”

“I think that sounds splendid. Fancy, we’ll see you shortly.”

I’m too flabbergasted to speak so I turn and leave the room as the mares giggle to each other. I wonder how long they’ll be. Hours, perhaps? Wind should have more than enough time to prepare a lunch for us all.

My eyes widen as I realize it’s nearly the day of Pascal’s arrival for our playdate. I have so much to plan for, to prepare, and all alone this time. I’ll skip a large breakfast in favor of some oats and water while I clean and sharpen my tools and accessories. I have to make sure the table can hold a full grown mud pony stallion, not to mention enhance the sound spells and duration. There's the matter of snacks, as well…

It’s not lost on me that I refer to Octavia as a mare now. I think she’s more than just a lower class pony, she’s better than that, and I should afford her the luxury of a better title. She’s a mare of her own making.

I arrive in the dining room to see a meal favoring oats and fresh berries waiting. I smile as I grab several bunches of berries and a bowl of oats in my magic before trotting to the kitchen and descending the stairs, locking the door behind me. I open the door to my room and seal it quickly and my nose twitches as the scent hits me.

I realize that without Grey Withers, the entrails from the dog are still festering on the floor. There are no flies, but the bacteria have taken their toll over the past day on their home. I can’t have Wind come and clean this up, so it falls on me to do this part. I gag slightly as I lift the innards and the rest of the clothes I’d left them on into the box and cast the sealing spell, letting it teleport to the Everfree and away from my life forever.

The stench lingers and I have to admit that I have no spell to quell it. I have no potions or candles either, perhaps some incense upstairs for ceremonies?

I resign myself to suffer at the moment before trotting to the table and starting the cleaning, sharpening, and polishing of my knives and saws. The table is about the right size, but I have to clean it as well from the dried, blackened blood. The cleaning bucket makes its own chemicals so I fill it with water and quickly scrub the surface until it’s nearly the polished quality it was supposed to be, but I haven’t the skill to remove refreshed blood from the edges.

Short of taking the entire table to the utility shower and washing it, risking rust, I have to leave it as is. I clean my mess and trot to my armoire, opening it carefully and looking at the medical clothes within. I got them on the off chance that I’d have a messy animal or I had an aversion for some reason. Yet here they are, and soon I may have pony blood on my coat. Should I cover myself for the first time or be naked?

I may have to play this one by ear, I suppose. I spend half an hour cleaning and organizing my playroom before taking my leave. I take the empty bowl with me as I leave and seal the door behind me, the basement air a refreshing change. I ascend the stairs and enter the kitchen and notice the servants averting their noses as I pass.

It’s then I realize the stench of dead, rotting dog has clung to me. I rush up the stairs and into the bathroom, undress and toss my clothes into the tub where I add water and scented oils to them before climbing in myself and scrubbing my body with the water at my hooves. A knock on the door startles me but I pay it no mind as I turn off the water and clothe myself again. A simply drying spell does its task and I feel ready for the day again, smelling fresh and clean, a brush in my mane as I open the door to Fleur.

“Fancy? Are you alright, I thought I heard the bath running?”

“All is well, dear. I simply had something on my hooves I had to wash off, and a touch of bath oils to soften them as well. I’m nearly done with my mane, as it tussled, so I’ll be along shortly, dear.”

She leans in and kisses my lips. “Don’t make us wait too long, Octavia has to go to the concert hall and that’ll be the last we see of her for a while.”

My heart sinks. “Oh, really? I forgot about that, to be honest.” Never did I think I’d have feelings for a mud- an earth pony mare.

“Aw, it’s alright, Darling, I’ll take care of you. I must go, but I’ll see you shortly.”

“Indeed.”

As we leave the concert hall the sound of Octavia’s music practice fills the silence before the noise of the city drowns it out. It’s nearly lunchtime. Had I known she was going to shop with Fleur one last time I’d have made separate plans.

Fleur carries several bags in her magic, having left Octavia’s modest purchase of a single bags s worth of items and souvenirs with her before we left the concert hall. I lead us to a diner and we eat our meals in silence, as though we’ve said goodbye to a close friend and are coming to terms. “Fleur, would you be willing to give me space this weekend? I have a friend I wish to play with, of sorts.”

“I believe I can. I haven’t anything planned, but I’ve made a few friends over the past couple days, so I can entertain them. I must spend an evening with the prince, so that would take care of one day, I’m certain.”

I gulp loudly. “Darling, I know I said before I didn’t mind, but-”

She speaks softly. “I shan’t sleep with him, or let him near my tail. That’s yours, and yours alone.”

My smile hurts my cheeks when she says that. I nod once and let my magic caress her side and move down her body until it’s under her tail. She gasps and narrows her eyes at me and takes my rod in her magic, trying to coax it out. I release my magic and inform her it isn’t the time or place, that we can take care of that later.

She agrees to a truce, thankfully.

We leave the cafe, her beginning to fluff her mane and prance as she walks beside me. “Darling, what are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m preparing for my career as a model. I won’t be seen with you as some simple mare, I will be seen as the star I am, with the best stallion in the city.”

“And I, the luckiest stallion, will not make you practice too much.”

She scoffs and punches my shoulder lightly. I feel a smile on my muzzle as I look at her, then I see her looking away from me. A fine stallion walking across the street has stopped and is looking intently at my Fleur.

I feel a primal rage in my chest and I feel magic tug my lapel, stopping me several paces from her just as I enter the street. “Fancy?! What’s gotten into you? Look at me!” she shouts as she pulls my chin to face her. I look into her eyes and the fire inside me calms.

The thought of impaling that stallion with my horn and dragging him to my playroom then letting the royal guards watch as I eviscerate his bones and feed them to a starving rabid dog!

“Guh, wha- Fleur? I, apologize,” I stammer and blink, looking around to reorient myself while she pulls me back onto the sidewalk. “I, don’t quite-”

“I know what happened, you got a little jealous of me, didn’t you?”

A little? “Ah, I believe so… Please, don’t-” she places a hoof over my lips. Her eyes say everything I need to hear. “Darling, I have feelings for you. To think of you leaving me to be with another stallion like my mother-” my voice hitches.

“Fancy, your mother? What happened?”

I avert my gaze and recount my mother’s death during a trip to the eastern borders of Equestria before I could make peace with her for an argument we’d had before she left.

“Ohh,” she coos and nuzzles me, pulling me into a hug, “You poor colt. I’ll always do whatever I can to help the pony I love.”

She presses her forehead to mine, our horns crossing. I feel her magic swirling into me at a fundamental level and I return the favor. “I love you too, Fleur.” We share a moment before I break our magical link. She fluffs her mane once, still peering into my eyes. “Let’s, gather your shopping, I am in need of something sweet.”

She giggles. “Ice cream? Gummies? Perhaps something a little more… refined?”

I turn and grip her bags in my magic. “I think anything with you will suffice.”

We begin to trot to a nice dessert shop Fleur asks. “Fancy, have you ever had a lemon drop? I want you to eat a lemon drop with me.”

“No. Why?”

“So you know that life can be sour and sweet at the same time, plus it's something I like to treat myself to, once in a while.”

“Ah, I’m going to have to try that, someday in the far future.” We share a slight laugh, our sides against each other.

We enter and choose our desserts, she makes a point to find a single lemon drop that she puts on top of my ice cream. I pout while she looks intently, insistently, at me. I have no other choice. Eugh, it’s sour and sweet. But, it’s nice at the same time. Like mother. The way she’d scold me and then hug me, her little prince, when my punishment was over.

When I’d fall and skin my knee, she’d bandage me herself. Not a servant, but with her own skill and magic. On my birthday’s she make the cobbler herself, apple cobbler with the sweetest apples from Ponyville. Ice cream imported from the north and oats from the south.

I feel a pressure across my chest and realize my eyes are closed. A hug? Why am I trembling? My face hurts a little and my eyes, what’s happening to them?! Am I dying? Is this my moment? Wait, this feeling… am I, crying?”

I open my eyes to the blur of tears fogging my vision and see a lump of pure white before me. I’m making noises, too. I’m openly crying, but why? What happened to cause this embarrassing moment? I was only thinking of- “Mommy, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I don’t hate you! Please, forgive me.”

I sob loudly and bury my face into Fleur, holding her tightly as I tremble and shake in her embrace. I can’t, and don’t, care about the others in the room, building, city… world. “I... just want my mommy back,” I manage after I don’t care how long.

“It’s okay, Little Prince, I’m here for you now.”

Her voice is deeper and more certain, but I hear my mother speaking to me. It’s a miracle beyond what Celestia can offer. I finally calm down and pull back enough to look into her face and instead of Mommy, I see Fleur. I raise my forelegs and my hooves take her cheeks closer to me. Our lips lock and I sob once as I kiss her.

She kisses me back and I break the kiss to hug her again. “Thank you, so much.”

She hums. “Is this going to happen every time you eat a lemon drop?”

“I haven’t a clue.” We chuckle and other voices giggle. Now I blush as I realize where I am and what’s just transpired. “Ah, perhaps we should take our desserts to go.”

“Yes, it may be for the best. Should we go home?”

“The park, I need time to think and the park is far more comfortable an idea.”

***

We sit in the adult area of the playground where parents watch their children play. “Fancy, this isn’t what I expected when you said ‘the park’.”

“She used to take me here three days a week. I’d play there, there, and I loved the sandbox over there. Tag was over there, and it seems it still is. She’d bring warm tea with honey and would have a cup poured for me when I was thirsty every time.”

I feel a foreleg around my withers as I recall my very full childhood. “You, haven’t cried since she passed, have you?”

“I, didn’t even realize. I missed her, but never did I actually let myself show it. I’ve delved into my hobbies and pet projects. Perhaps I was just finding ways to distract myself from my sorrow.”

“Everypony is allowed a little vice, but to let it cover the pain isn’t healthy. I’m proud of you for being able to accept it.”

Yes, I accept the loss of my mommy, but at what cost? How many lives have ended to cover the pain? Tears leak down my cheeks again before I know it and again. Without a word, Fleur embraces me.

“Dear, aren’t you embarrassed to be with me? A sorry, blubbering foolish colt?”

“You’re in pain, emotional pain, Fancy. It’s not enough for me to be here, I am here with you. Maybe… We can be there for each other, now.”

I chuckle between sniffles. “We’re both broken, how?”

“We both lost our families,” she whispers.

I then realized that I wasn’t alone in the universe anymore. A kindred spirit sat beside me, holding me as I wept into her coat. A hoof petting my mane. Mommy. “I love you,” I sigh.

As we trot across the street leading to the theater I think of the past few hours. My realizations, my being comforted, my murders of innocent creatures, and being comforted by the mare beside me. I don’t greet ponies as they pass. I don’t even look them in the eye, for what I’ve done I don’t deserve to look at them.

Pascal, I owe him a weekend at my home. He deserves it, for all I’ve done. I’m certain he’s a kind and thoughtful pony, one that I could befriend without thoughts of harming him. No blood on my face or on my hooves for once. Even my beloved hasn’t been spared my dark thoughts. I won’t cry again, enough of that. All I can do is make amends, and it starts with Pascal. He’ll be the one to change my life, turn it on the right path, forever.

“That was a lovely show, Fancy. I’m glad you took me, it was so sweet, the way the stallion found the mare of his dreams just before he passed after looking all his life for her.”

“Yes, and it took my mind of everything else that’s been happening. Good show, indeed. I say, what’s that?” I raise my monocle and see across the street clearly.

“Isn’t that the servant from Whitemane’s? What was his name again?” My monocle drops and I feel it tug on my collar as it stops suddenly. “Who’s that he’s with?” Fleur asks.

I turn my head towards her. “If I didn’t know better, it seems to be that foul, rude, uncouth mare, Braun,” I chuckle, “may he survive the night.” Fleur chuckles back and turns away. I hurry to press my side to hers again as we walk.

“Fancy Pants, you’re so affectionate now. It’s almost like you want everypony to know we’re together.”

“I don’t care what they think, as long as you’re by my side.”

“Well, while I agree, I must say that it’s a bit too close for me at the moment. Perhaps a hoof of distance if you’re on my right, so I can fluff my mane. I’d like to make the other ponies jealous of what we have while leaving them hope of a chance for me.”

“Ah, thus increasing your popularity! You’re cleaver, Fleur des Lis, quite clever.”

“Thanks, I believe we’re going to work well together,” she leans close to my ear and whispers, “and not just in bed.” I feel my blushing face brush against hers before we take a step apart and she fluffs her mane and moves her bags between us. “Just for the walk home, Darling.”

I hope she’s not uncomfortable with me being so close. Less than a week and I can see my future with her, practically.

We trot back home and I’m surprised to see Grey Withers in the foyer, sitting on a couch with a piece of paper on his forehooves. He sits up and looks at me. “Sir, I’d like my job back.”

“Grey Withers, it’s been not even two days. Are you unemployable, old chap?”

“Nay, it’s just, I can’t imagine another home to work in. I’ve been with you, in this home, since you were a newborn foal. I’ve watched you grow from a yearling to the stallion you are now.”

He’s still professional, even though I can see the pleading in his eyes. “Grey Withers, I’ve already given your job to another. What would you suggest I do, should I take you back?”

Fleur takes her leave as I sit beside him. “Fancy, you know me and what I’m capable of, just as I know what you are. I won’t tell, as I’ve promised before, but I can’t imagine you having my replacement clean up all your messes. In the same respect, you can’t be comfortable with the idea of doing the same.”

He makes a good argument. I lean in closer to further personalize our conversation. “If I take you back, your protege will lose her job, and she’s done quite well so far, if not a bit inexperienced.”

He bites his bottom lip and glances around nervously. A gulp. A twitch in his eye. “You can play with her, and then no pony would know.”

I’m taken aback for the first time by this stallion. I can’t think of what to tell him, so I peer into his eyes and I see truth in his words. “Grey Withers,” I whisper, “are you actually suggesting I…”

“Just... offering an option that would benefit us both. I’ll take my leave and should you reconsider, I’ve moved into the hotel by the train station,” he tells me as he slides from the couch and to his hooves. “Either way, I know you’ll make the right decision for yourself in the end.”

He leaves while I sit still and stare at the closed door. What am I to do?

“Sir,” Wind calls to me from the library. I trot over and look in to see a plain box on my desk. “Mister Withers asked me to see that you got this once he left.”

“Thank you, you may leave.”

“Yes, sir.”

I close the doors when she leaves and turn my attention to the box. Upon opening it my heart aches and I know what I should do, must do. It all becomes clear. When did I stop minding my servants calling me sir? Perhaps my little toy in the basement has another skill I can put to use, besides stress relief.

Fleur and I tuck into bed, little to talk about after such a long day, an exhausting day. I have to prepare for tomorrow, when everything changes.

Chapter 7 (g)

I awoke with a start in the middle of the night. I have to do it. I am giddy with excitement and can't hold my anticipation. I cast the quiet walk spell and practically prance to the door when I heard a mumble. “Fancy?” she said quietly in the darkness. “Where are you going?”

“Just have to try something. I’ll be back shortly, Darling. Fret not.”

She hums and I hear her settle back into the bed before I leave quietly, so as to not further disturb her. I make haste to my playroom and take a syringe from a bag I’ve been keeping hidden away before going upstairs and to the door. “Wind Rider,” I call as I knock softly on her door.

I hear rustling and a flap of wings as she takes to the air a second before the door opens and she lands, bowing slightly. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you needed me, otherwise-”

“Hush, I need you to help me, please,” I implore with a desperate need in my eye.

“O-of course, whatever you need,” she responds with worry.

I show her the syringe. “I need you to take some of this so I know it’s safe for me.”

“S-sir, I… don’t do drugs. I haven’t ever, how would I know what the effects were supposed to be?”

“It’s not so much a drug as a way to help me sleep. Grey Withers would administer it to me so I could sleep, as I have insomnia many nights. But this may be too weak, so if you could try it and if you feel just a little sleepy with the small amount I give you, then it’ll work wonders for me.”

“O-oh, uhm,” she lifts a foreleg and hesitates, staring at the needle as I uncover it, exposing the injector. “Okay, just please, make it quick.”

“I shall,” I place the needle to where her vein should be in her foreleg, based on my experience and readings, “take my time.”

“Huh?” She asks, tilting her head slightly in confusion as I depress the plunger fully, remove it from her skin, and recap it. “What’d you mean by… Woah,” she blinks and shakes her head raising a hoof to her temporalis. “What, my head is a little funny.”

I look at her pupils and watch as they dilate quickly. “What, was that you,” she stumbles and falls on her flank. Flank. Noun. The fleshy part of the side between the ribs and the hip, I recall from my diligent readings.

“It’s something to help a pony sleep, as you’ll find out in a few seconds with the dose you just got.”

Her eyelids start to close. “Why?” she whimpers as her legs give out and she falls to the floor.

I don’t answer as I take her in my magic and lift her beside me but before I leave I trot into her room and collect some various clothing and personal items, a suitcase, and a piece of paper. I quickly write a letter of resignation and relocation to Las Pegasus and, to seal it, I ink her hoof and press it to the parchment before placing it on her bed’s pillow.

I take my leave with the mare, her wings lying limp and in my vision as I try to hold them to her sides. It seems wings aren’t always by a pony’s side, especially when drugged. They didn’t cover that in the books.

Quickly I make my way through the mansion and down the stairs, through the kitchen, then into the basement. My heart a-flutter as I open my room and close the door behind me.

I enchant the room twice over before I place the limp mare into the play table and open the box. The institutional straps are so soft they won't leave a chafe in the worst incidents, while holding firm under the most extreme stress.

I strap her limbs, head, and titter in glee to see wing restraints with bars, so a pony doesn't use their wings as weapons to hurt themselves or others. A pegasus wing strike can just as easily snap the delicate bones as it can break the limb of a foe. Then I strap her barrel to the table, followed by a special heavy strap that holds across her neck and forehead.

A locking and weighted tail harness finishes the ensemble before I take a step back and look at the mare. I'm in awe of what she represent, of, what she means to my future.

I have to wait only half an hour for her to rouse from her slumber. Then, we can start to play.

Time passes quickly as I prepare my cart and items. I tear into boxes I’d long forgotten about from just outside my room in the basement itself for anything I can potentially use before sealing the entrance again with a double spell.

She stirs. A wing twitches, feathers move, then she winces. A movement of her limbs and she pulls taught the straps before her eyes open a crack. She struggles before she knows why and her eyes open quickly. She looks with her eyes to her forelegs as she tugs fruitlessly. Her eyes strain to see her wings as the bars on them thump lightly on the table and her breathing hastens.

“Urgh! What’s, happening?! Where am I? What’d I do?! I’m sorry, Sir, please, don’t punish me for-”

I place a hoof over her mouth and her eyes quickly follow my leg until she meets my eyes. “You haven’t earned the right to call me that, and you know it, pet.” She trembles under my shoe, but still nods slightly. “Now, who am I to you?” I lift my hoof so she may speak.

“Is this to be bondage sex, Sir?”

I drop my hoof and pull slightly, making sure the shoe catches as I cover her mouth. “You have not earned the right to call me ‘Sir’, plaything” I growl. She nods again. I raise my hoof and she moves her lips.

“I apologize, Master. This servant will gladly submit to your whims.”

She truly thinks this is about sex? Oh, she’s in for quite the treat indeed.

I smile. “I believe this will be a very memorable experience for you. Sadly, you won’t tell anypony as this will be a punishment beyond your wildest dreams,” I shrug as I walk around her and choose where to start. A full medical tray with every item I’ve ever used is on the cart and the options are almost endless. With the sound of the pegasus breathing heavily I choose to look into the box of random items to see what I can find.

“Of course not, Master.”

I come across several mouse traps and roll my eyes. It’s a start. I return with them and open one slightly, letting it snap shut. She jumps slightly and whimpers. “I’ll get you squirming first, then pain, then the real fun begins.” I run the wooden base along her underbelly until I reach her teats, where she moves her torso away. Knowing where to begin I open a trap and let it snap shut on the areola of her right breast.

She screams briefly and moves her torso side to side, arching her back slightly as the pain shoots through her sensitive organ. As she settles down I snap another trap onto the left breast of the pegasus and can’t help but smirk as she repeats the motions, this time whimpering and moaning.

“Th-thank you, Master. Can the servant be done now?”

“Oh, but we’ve only just begun to explore all the possibilities you have to offer,” I whisper loud enough for her to hear as I lower another trap to her teat and snap it closed on her nipple. She screams fully now, fighting to curl up and free herself from the pain. The nipple reddens brightly while the rest of her breast blushes. I repeat the action with the other nipple, this time she gasps and groans while she arches her back, what little she can. Something flickers at the corners of my vision as a calm settles over me.

“N-no more, please, Master. I’ll do anything, anything, it hurts too much, stop!”

I drag one of the last two traps down her underbelly and tap the traps on her nipples, one drawing a couple drops of blood and a smile to my face. “Only a couple left, because you called me anything besides ‘Master’; you must be punished.”

I move it down farther and I see her tail moving. “No! I can’t play this game if-” is all she says before I open a trap fully and let it snap on her labia. She screams and thrashes, pleading between sobs for me to stop. I giggle as she fills the room with reverberating noises and snap the last one on her other labia. Both lips are bleeding slightly and I lean over her to lick some of her blood.

It’s as sweet as honey, scented with wild flowers, yet it carries a metallic tinge to it that begs for another sample.

I listen as the pegasus mare cries, her hips gyrating and her limbs fighting for freedom in futility. I wait for her to quiet enough before I speak. “You’re a bad mare, and you’re being punished. Just relax, you’re going nowhere.”

She’s still now, having realized moving makes the pain spike. “Master Fancy Pants, please, I’m sorry. I’ll have sex with you, I’ll even carry your foal. Please no more.”

I use my magic to tug the traps on her breasts and nipples in different directions. “You will not ask anything of me, servant. Now brace yourself.”

I call over a scalpel and hover it before her. She whimpers as I bring it from her gaze. “Please, no more, Sir.” I sneer and she sees it, regret and pleading flashing across her features as soon as she finishes her statement. She chomps her teeth and grunts in a high pitch as I press the blade to her neck. “Master, I meant Master. Please, don’t do this, it’s too much for me.”

I instead tug a feather lightly on her left wing, as it’s closest to me, and wink at her. She gulps just before I tug her feather again. “Please, Master, you’ll really hurt me.”

I yank hard with my magic and she yelps, stirring and fighting the straps a little. She tries to fold her wings but they’re not under her control, they’re under mine. I bring her feather to her muzzle and brush it across her lips. She exhales a hot breath and relaxes. “You called me ‘dude’, did you not?”

She looks over and into my eyes. “Yes, Master. Please, don’t punish me any more.”

I tug at another feather. “S,” I pull it out. “I,” I pull another at random feather and smirk as she yelps. “R,” I growl as I grab three and yank them free of her wing. She yelps in pain and fights her binds in a single jerk as I hold the feathers like a bouquet of flowers before her. She opens her eyes and they focus on the red at the ends of two of her feathers and she tries to turn her head to see them.

“Master, am I bleeding? Please, help me to stop it. I can’t get blood on my feathers.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Because,” she pouts, “when I preen them later I’ll have to taste it, and it’s gross.”

“Is it now? Tell me, when was the last time you tasted your own blood?”

She’s silent for a moment. Her eyes widen in realization. “Please, don’t, Master! I’ll never call you ‘Sir’ again, I swear it to you!”

I sneer and snarl like a dog as I begin to pluck her left wing of six more feathers. She cries out and fights her binds again, this time with effort. I stop when I notice how bare her wing now is. Blood droplets are speckled on the table and I lean down, I press my muzzle into the drops and make sure to have some on my lips as I stand tall and rear up to look into the mare’s face. She has tears streaming from her closed eyes and across her head. She whimpers and relaxes into her binds again as I press my lips to hers.

She won’t open her mouth to accept my tongue yet, but I persist and she relents after a moment of force. She kisses me back passionately and moans lightly. “Master,” she whispers from the corner of her mouth, “more, please.”

I lean back. “Kiss you more?”

“Pluck me, pluck me like a wishing daisy! Heal me when we’re done, but please, Master, make me yours tonight.”

I smile genuinely as I move to her other wing and pull seven feathers and let them collect in my magic at her sides. She yelps and cries in pain as I pluck her secondary feathers. Her wing arm looks so frail and fragile, hardly a thing that can lift a pony. “Is that to your liking?” She sobs but manages a slight nod. “How do you feel, Wind Rider?”

“M-master, it burns and stings so much. Can you ease the pain?”

“I will do as I see fit until you return to sleep,” I tell her firmly as I take her feathers and cover her underbelly with them, nearly covering the mousetraps. “Those are your feathers upon your barrel and belly. How do they feel?”

“I, feel them a little. My nipples are burning, may I have release from them?” I take a trap in my magic and yank it off her body. Had she been less restrained she would certainly have arched her back and sent feathers across my playroom, thus upsetting me more, I suppose. She grits her teeth and groans in pain as her nipple begins to swell slightly. “Thank you, Master.”

I return her appreciation by snapping the same trap shut on the same nipple. A new sound leaves her body, it’s almost melodic in its nature. A sound that tickles my ears and calms me like my mother’s singing before bed. The song ends and the mare is sobbing again, pleading for something.

I open and snap the trap closed again and my eyes close at the sound she makes. It’s a beautiful sound that takes me to a meadow with warmth and flowers. I see dozens of the animals I’ve played with rolling and playing in the grasses, thankful for their time with me. Suddenly, the image fades away and I’m back into my room. The happiness and warmth are replaced by melancholy and a dry chill. I don’t pay mind to the mare other noises and words as I open and snap the trap closed again, only to not hear the song but another noise.

I open my eyes to see blood oozing from where the nipple once was, the trap has fallen to the floor and the mare is letting a silent scream. I move to look at her face and it’s nearly frozen in pain. Tears prickle at her closed eyelids, her chest is spasming, she’s gasping in short breaths as though she’s crying, screaming, and I notice the straps across her body are taught against her strain. I can smell the aroma of her arousal filling the air.

Finally she inhales a deep breath and into my face sings as loudly as an opera singer. I could hear her outside the mansion if my room wasn’t enchanted, but I don’t care as I’m taken back to the wonderful pasture full of happy cats and dogs, several birds flitter through the air and land in the grasses to hop around and peck at the ground.

I see the python from several years ago slither between my legs looking as well as the day I captured him on my trek through that jungle outside our lands. The song wanes slightly and the pastures crackle away slowly, replaced by sobbing and blubbering.

“No more! Please, stop, Master, I’ll never bother you again, I’ll quit and move to the gates of Tartarus for a year and eat only grass! No more, Master, please.”

“Shush! Shush, shh, shh, shh. Darling!” I shout after I shush her and place a hoof against the top of her head. Her eyes open a sliver and she looks at me through tear filled eyes. “You haven’t a chance of escape or help, do you understand now? You’ve given yourself to me as a plaything and I intend to have all the fun I can.”

I see it dawn on her, the realization of what’s happening. Her eyes widen and her body trembles, the same as most of my pets when they realize the futility of their actions. “Fancy Pants? Y-you can’t be serious, are you?” I look at her calmly. “You’d really hurt me, for your own pleasure? What kind of sick freak are you?”

“Sick? Oh, my dearest pony. I’m not sick, I’ve been eating well and exercising as needed and the doctors say I’m in excellent health. Why, I’m as fit as a fiddle, if I must say.”

She looks at me and raises an eyebrow, her torso moves against her binds still detracting my attention. “No, that’s not what I meant… I mean, how can a pony hurt another like you imply? What’s your idea of ‘fun’?”

“Ah, simple. What all stallions crave. Heat, wetness, a heaving body, penetration, screams. To feel you from the inside, to know your body more intimately than you’ll ever imagine. I wish to penetrate you deeply and mix up your insides, hear you scream and writhe until you are utterly spent into a puddle of hot, sticky, and wetness that ends… with your life." I get hard describing this to her. “ What a wasted question,” I state picking up the small piece of flesh from her side on the table and moving it into her line of sight. “This is only the first piece to leave your body,” her eyes widen as she looks at the small dark lump of flesh, “shall I keep count of how many I make?”

“Is… that my nipple?” she asks with a hint of disgust, fear, and anger. When I nod she growls at me and thrashes, tries to turn her head, strains against her binds, this time in anger. A different reaction than I’d expected… “You fucking monster, I’ll drop you from the clouds! Let me go, you freak! You bastard, motherless beast!”

I chuckle at her suddenly expanded vocabulary and notice she’s not speaking as cordially as before.

“When I get free, I’ll make you eat every last hair in your mane! LET. ME. GO.!”

“No such thing shall happen, but do keep speaking as the lower class creature you are, it’s quite amusing.”

“You wanna hear a lower class pony talk? You’ve got some freaking nerve to do this to me. If you don’t let me go I’ll scream so loud, Princess Celestia will personally stomp you straight down to Tartarus!”

I laugh now, heartily. “Oh, dear, please, continue, I’ve not had a playmate so entertaining since I was a colt!”

“Let me go, you fucking freak!”

I look down her body and to the blood that has trailed down her hips and to the table. “Dear, shall I stop you now or later?”

She begins shouting insults and threats again as I leave her vision and take her nipple, replacing it on the oozing wound I’d given her. Her voice hitches as I press her flesh against the source of the trickle of blood but doesn’t stop her raving. I roll my eyes and turn to my clothes, realizing that I wasn’t wearing any this time. “Dear, I must take my leave. It’s still a bit early, you see, but don’t worry, I’ll return before too long.”

“What?! You’re going to leave me here, like this?!”

“How else would I leave you? Untethered and free to leave at your whim?” I chuckle, “do you take me for a fool?”

“I was acting before to seem more meek to you, if I’d have known you were a freak of nature I’d have quit when He quit. Did he find your secret? Is that it? Was he as disgusted with you as your mother must have been?!” I ignore her ranting as I move to the faucet. “I bet you killed her too, didn’t you? I can’t see you, but I know you’re probably crying like a foal, aren’t you? ‘Mommy, mommy’. Boo-hoo-hoo! Why don’t you let my wings free and I’ll help knock some sense into you. I won’t even tell your whore of what you do, the newspapers will do that for me! How many others have you hurt like this? Was you mother one of them? Is that why nopony will love you?!”

I wash my face quickly with well water before I cast a silence spell over her head to silence her inane rambling, finally, before I open the doorway and take my leave.

The room will be silence enchanted for the rest of the day, so I believe I should have a good rest before I begin my day as normal.

I leave the basement and pass a cook in the kitchen without acknowledging her greeting. I make my way to my room and tuck back into bed, this time to sleep for certain. Time passes and as sleep grips me I smile, knowing what’s to come.

Chapter 8

I awaken alone in bed, refreshed and calm without a yawn. I scoot to the edge and feel the soft pressure of carpet under my hooves as I roll out. A shiver runs from my withers to my tail and it feels very good.

I open my wardrobe and gather my clothing before trotting to the bathroom for my morning events. Emerging dressed and clean I am ready to enjoy this day to the limits and as I open the door I notice sunlight in an unusual place on the hallway carpets. I notice a stallion wearing an apron in a room as I walk the hall.

“Stallion?”

“Yes, Master?”

“What time is it?”

“Nearly eleven, Master. Mistress Fleur de Lis insisted you be allowed to sleep in.”

I grumble gratitude as I hurry to the stairs and descend them with haste. My morning is gone and I have to make my social rounds. Don’t I? I don’t think I’ve ever spent a day in just because I could. I say, even the last time I slept in isn’t fresh in my mind, yet having a set routine read each morning by Grey Withers is.

I reach the base and bump into Fleur. “Oh, no no no, you get back to bed this instant, I’ve breakfast on the way. Tut-tut, before you begin, at least go and lay so you can eat what I’ve prepared before you begin your day,” she urges and turns me, pushing me with hooves and magic. I relent and return to bed to wait for my missed meal. To be honest I am rather famished.

I lay in bed for a few minutes before Fleur opens the door with her magic, a tray of food in her aura. “Where’s that mare that’s supposed to be helping us; Wing Flapper, or whatever?”

“I haven’t the foggiest, however if she isn’t here then she forfeits her job and title,” I say as I roll to my belly. Fleur places the tray before me and I smell the delight that is brunch. I lean my muzzle down and begin to eat without a hint of magic. “Oh, this is delightful. I haven’t eaten like this in ages, it feels like.”

“Aren’t you going to use your spoon?”

“Why? I feel like a colt again, after all that happened yesterday. I feel so free, in my heart and mind,” I say lowering again and eating some fruit, “that I haven’t a care in the world at the moment. Once I leave this room, it’s back to being Fancy Pants, the lord of land. Pragmatic and powerful pony. The philanthropist extraordinaire.”

“You sound more pessimistic than pragmatic at the moment.”

“What happens in my room stays in my room,” I huff as I eat a whole hard boiled egg in one bite, “and between us, right?”

“Oh, pish-posh, you know I won’t say a word. Now, about the day…”

“I haven't a care of such at the moment. Tomorrow is the weekend and I've only a few tasks ahead of me. Personal, you understand?”

“Yes, but what about us?” She asks nervously, poking at a spot on the carpet.

“Well, I think we'll have to make time to plan for next weekend. Just us, perhaps a flight to the coast.”

She smiles wide enough for me to see her teeth. “Really? Next weekend, us?”

I chuckle. “Of course, I wouldn't have you on my yacht without me.”

“Oh, Fancy, you're the best! I'm going to try on some necklaces, if you need anything just call and I'll have a servant fetch it.”

“Now that we know we can't rely on Wing Rider, I suppose I'll have to fill her position. I believe Grey Withers will fit nicely.”

“Is that what the two of you spoke of yesterday?”

“Among other things, but yes. Perhaps that's why she isn't here. Competition with her superior wouldn’t be prudent to the future of her success.”

“A noble can’t be seen swapping the help, either,” Fleur added turning away, “lest they be seen as indecisive.”

“And they lose the respect of those they need,” I add.

She smirks. “I’ll be down the hall in the guest bedroom I’ve turned into my closet. If you need me…”

“Yes, yes. I’ll call your name, however, I feel the need to stretch my legs. Perhaps a trot around the garden would wake me up.”

“Either way, Darling, take time for yourself. The other nobles will survive without you for most of a day.”

I don’t say another word as she leaves and the only sound that I care about is the sound of my chewing. My jaws grinding the fruit to a pulp, the squishing of the eggs, the sound as I gulp and my breath hitches naturally so I don’t breath the food into my lungs. I smirk as a thought, a plan, crosses my mind.

I grab some fruit in my magic and finish my oats before I leave my bed and pronk to the door like a coltish fool in love. I make my way down the hall, past the improvised closet that would have fit a family of three for the night and past servants going about their duties so intently that they don’t notice me as I prance by.

I stop in the kitchen and take a bowl of fruit that was sitting idly and nopony is paying attention at the moment anyway as I sneak into the basement door and descend the stairs. The light from my horn illuminates a path I know by heart and I open my room. She’s asleep, the lights have gone out, but she’s still on the table I can see. I set the fruit inside, and seal the door again.

This should make for a nice treat when I return later.

I close the door and make for the stairs, ascending quickly and make my way to the foyer to look at the door for a moment. I don’t know why, but it seems like something I must do. I turn away and am met with three servants eating and enjoying themselves.

“Master!” one shouts and they all look to me in surprise.

“Don’t pay me any mind, you’re allowed to enjoy yourselves, after all.” A mare moves to leave her seat while staring at me. She chews slowly. “Sit,” a leer at her, “and enjoy yourselves. I’m not some monster to be feared. I’m a pony like you lot,” I say to them all while peering into her eyes.

She moves back to her cushion and gulps her mouthful. “Yes, Master. How can we serve you?” she asks.

I roll my eyes. “Do you think nothing more of me than your master?”

The look uneasily between each other. “It’s not that we disrespect you, Master. You just haven’t spoken to us.”

“In how long?” I inquire.

“I’ve been here six years,” a stallion states, “and I’ve never shared this many words with you, Master.”

“Again with the ‘master’. I am growing tired of hearing that at this moment. For now, call me Lord, or Lord Fancy Pants, or something of the sort. I don’t believe it’s very noble of me to not know my staff after so long,” I look down and scuff the floor with my hoof. “May I, join you? I would love to know about you lot, and the rest of the staff as well.”

They smile and a filly, maybe almost a mare’s age gets up from her cushion and pats it before she moves to another further down. “Welcome to the group, Lord Fancy Pants. Can I call you LFP? It’d be easier?”

“Well, we may try it, but I don’t think it’ll be a common occurrence. So… what are your names and how long have you worked in my home?”

I prance into the room that is now a closet and to the mare that’s looking at herself in a mirror, clothes strewn across the princess size bed, to nuzzle her under her chin. She moves away with a snort. “Darling, your horn got too close to my muzzle. Please, be mindful. What has overtaken you with such good spirits?” she moves to nuzzle me but I move around her to look her over.

“You look marvelous, we should take a trot down the street to show you off!”

“Fancy, have you taken herbs since I left you?” she jests, “I thought you were going for a trot around the yard, didn’t that help?”

“Nay, I spoke with some of my servants and I actually feel,” how do I explain this? “welcomed, I guess is a way to put it.”

“Welcomed? In your own home?” she smirks to me, “I don’t follow.”

“Yes, and no. I always felt there was a floor of separation between myself and them, but sitting with them and laughing at the supper table about things that I didn’t know we had in common! Like Little Hopper, a filly that’s been working in my home for a year, lost her mother and was taken in by Grey Withers and works in the kitchen.”

“And you relate to her because of your mother?”

“No, it’s because she likes toffee! I like toffee too, but I never thought a servant would! What else can I learn about them,about the lower classes?!” I exclaim and pounce onto the bed, rolling over to my back and looking at the ceiling.

“How about inviting them to supper with us, then? It would be nice to see more chairs of that table filled. It seats what, twenty?”

“Thirty two, I haven’t that many servants… but what of their families? I’ll find out if they have families and invite them all over. I’ll have the meal catered and… Oh, yes! Octavia can help arrange some music and I can call a couple friends to fill in seats, but they have to be talkers, you know?”

“I’m glad to see you act this way. It sounds like it isn’t a common occurrence, is it? I’ll support you however you need. When is the swarray you’re planning for?”

“Why not tomorrow? Bring a friend or two, as well. Conversationalists and the like.”

“Isn’t that ground stomper coming tomorrow through the weekend, though?”

I turn to her and blink, gulp, and sigh. “Then he shall be one of my guests… Perhaps he’ll bring Braun, and thus our conversations will be most adventurous indeed!” I laugh haughtily.

She snorts at the thought. “As long as she reigns in her brazen personality, I don’t see any problems.” I smirk. “What, you’re not going to invite them to bed with us, are you?” she muses.

“Not a chance, but I know another pony I’ll be inviting, should she be free. And, she’s quite important, if I must say so.”

“Ooo, and who might that be?” she bats her eyes at me.

I roll to my side and look straight at her. “You’ll be happy to see her, trust me.”

She gulps at the seriousness I bring to the moment then nods. “I look forward to meeting her, may I have a hint? Perhaps her mane style?”

I smirk and close my eyes in thought. “Okay, her mane style is… stylish.” She shoves me lightly and I grunt from the pressure, but we’re in very good spirits as I remove myself from the bed. “I believe clothing is in order, then I’d love to take a trot, just to see what’s happening around the area.”

“Very well, I’ll see what I can wear.”

“Do be quick, Darling, time is of the essence, you know.”

“Go, I’ve only got a couple outfits to choose from and won’t be but a minute.”

After nearly an hour the mare descends the stairs wearing a necklace of various jewels and a dress that doesn’t seem like it took that long to put on. She stands before me and fluffs her hair once. “So, what do you think?”

The urge to scold her and ask questions as to why to took her so long to choose something so meaningless is overwhelming, however I hold my tongue. “You look splendid, are you ready to depart?”

All I want is a trot around the area, is that too much to ask?

“Nearly, I must go before I go,” she says. As she turns I raise my hoof to my head and sigh. This is love, as I understand it. Just, wait for her and learn how she operates and how to gain time to yourself, Fancy Pants. Just, be patient. I turn to exit my home and stop after I open the door. I see Grey Withers slowly walking closer.

I trot from the house and gallop over to him. He looks up and smiles, picking up his pace before I stop before him and pull him close to me, embracing him in a hug that surprises him enough to gasp. “I missed you, and you have your old job back. I hope to never lose you again,” I tell him.

“What has happened to you over the past days to open your heart so much?”

“So much, I have so much to tell you when we have time.”

“I look forward to it,” he says with one last squeeze from his returned embrace. “So, am I to clean up?”

I sniffle and release him, then shake my head. “I’ve only just begun with her. Perhaps by Tuesday?”

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. You’ll wait until Tuesday to play?” then he cocks his head at my smirk.

“No, but I may finish by then.” His eyes widen and he gulps at the prospect. “I’ll be taking my time with my first, I want to know how long it can last. Between Fleur and the creature on my table, I’ve never felt so alive.”

He smiles awkwardly. “At least you’re in good spirits. Shall I head in and take my old position now? Cleaning up after you, like old times?”

“Indeed! It’s been a long two days without you, I shan’t be without you again,” I wink to him, “by any means.”

With a nervous nod he begins to walk around me, not breaking eye contact until he was far enough away to gallop to the house and past Fleur. After a short greeting he disappeared within the shadows and the doors closed in Fleur’s aura. “Well, it was nice to see him back, but he was certainly nervous. I hope he’ll stay with you this time, did he ask for more money?”

“No, just for his job back. Nothing else. Now, shall we?”

“You look splendid as well, by the way. Quite dashing, if I must say so.”

“Yes, I’ve always looked good in grey.”

We take our trot, heads held high as we make our round, then I turn and take the trot further out. I see ponies I know, introduce them to my lady, Fleur, and invite them to various events over the next week. A few offer us the same. To simply have us at a party of theirs would make them the highlight of every topic for the following day. I believe I will capitalize on this. I am famous, in some regards, but I really must be more public to expand my influence. I’ve taken an earth pony as a lover and word will travel, I must get ahead of this.

“Yes, it’s very nice to have run into you. And, I look forward to boating with you next week. We’ll discuss the details between our charges, farewell,” I nod to the gentlecolt after he does so. I notice Fleur spending a long time leaning against my back, but I’m quickly getting used to her affections and flaunting our affluence.

“Darling, I have a special guest to invite. That’s part of the reason we’ve walked this way, would you mind giving me some time to myself? We can meet at the park again in two hours.”

She pouts but nods, kissing and nuzzling me goodbye before she leaves with a grace that fits her so well. I quickly turn from the main street and make my way to Photo Finish’s apartment. The mare is up and coming, certainly unique, and very full of herself. But, she’s skilled and networked enough to make my Fleur’s dream come true.

…

After spending time in the cramped apartment, standing as I dare not sit, I bid my farewell with time to spare so I go to the park, with a stop along the way, and waited for her to arrive. Photo Finish will be at the gathering and will take Fleur as her model, everypony will be so pleased!

She’s early, thankfully, and finds me on a knoll where I’m lying by several flowers. “Fancy, did your meeting go well?”

“Fabulously. All is in order, and now I believe these are for you,” I pull a wrapped bunch of various flowers from a nearby bush and present them to her. “Oh, I love them, they’re scrumptious looking. I’ll have them later,” she takes them from me and places them beside her as she lays beside me. “So, the plan for the evening?”

“Ah, they day has gotten away from us, hasn’t it? I believe we should return home and relax ourselves before bed. It’s certainly been a lazy day, has it not?”

“Well, when one of us sleeps in until lunch, the day does seem to be wasted,” she leans against me, “but well worth it. From what I’ve heard around Canterlot you’re quite reclusive, only socializing publically. Now you want to host a party for your servants? This will certainly shake the opinion most have of you.”

“Yes,” I take a flower into my mouth and chew it up, “and it’s about time. I’ve lived in the shadows long enough, it’s time to be the stallion I was meant to be. Not the one I have made myself into.”

“Very well said, Darling. Let’s just take some time to enjoy the park before we part, and remember that I have an appointment tonight and might be out late.”

“Oh, that. I remember now. Do try to enjoy yourself and I’ll see you tomorrow at the latest?”

“Hopefully tonight before midnight,” she sighs.

Chapter 9 (G!)

I disrobe outside my playroom and fold my clothes nicely, hiding them under a box just beside me. I open the door and step inside quickly, closing it behind. The strained whimpering of the mare barely escapes as I reenchant the spells around the room and apply new gems I’d acquired to enhance the duration of the spells I’ve already placed.

The scent and location of urine and feces is made clear as the lights brighten. I walk to the strapped mare and take in her expression.

Tears have stained her face from her eyes to the back of her head, like she was wearing glasses. Her body had relieved itself and her tail is saturated with her mess, as well as most of her back and hind legs. Her eyes flutter open and she winces when she sees me, then she looks at me again and trembles, sniffing the air. “Water, please,” she asks me hoarsely.

I look her over and roll my eyes. “You made quite the mess of my table, and it’s my favorite table. So, I’ll offer you fruit instead. Can you smell it, the fruit?”

“Y-yes. It’s been torturing me for a long time,” she gulps dryly, “what time is it, how long have I been here?”

I call over the bowl of fruit and angle it to her so she can see. Her eyes widen as she looks at it and I take a piece from the bowl. A small square piece of cantaloupe dangles above her muzzle and she opens her mouth expectantly. “Not quite…” I tell her removing the fruit from her view. I swipe it through the mixed mess she’s chosen to make on my table and return it to above her muzzle.

A sniff and a wince, then she looks at me, lips held tight. “You’re hungry, right? This is certainly food, so open up.” she shakes her head as little as she can, humming declination. “Well, I’ll just leave these under the table for when you’re ready,” I tell her as I dump the bowl onto the floor. It squishes on impact, and runs with her excretions.

She whimpers as I rest the one piece of fruit on her forehead and leave her sight. “So, my playmate, what should we… oh, you got them off,” I comment, noticing her labia and breasts were free of the traps, “care to tell me how?” I ask, looking at the clotted blood from where her nipple once was and the bruised swelling of her nether regions.

“It took a long time, but... I won’t let you. I’ll get out of here and tell everypony what you’ve done.” I turn from her and back to my toys. I take a scalpel and turn to her. “When they find out what you’re doing to ponies and-” she yelps as I take a the knife to her upper foreleg and press, “-and they’ll lock you away until you die of old age, if you’re lucky!” she coughs roughly, loudly.

I drag the blade lightly and watch blood seep from the wound. She snorts indignantly. “You feel better now? Cutting me like that?”

“That, my toy, is merely a papercut, but yes, I do derive a bit of pleasure from this. Can you sing for me again?”

“Sing? I haven’t sung a note since I got here. I fact, over the past year I’ve barely sung at all, for your information. If you think I’ll even hum for you, you’re more delusional than I imagined.”

I use my magic to open her small wound slightly and take measure. “It’s about an inch long, I think… Ah, that’s a nice idea,” I say taking her feathers from before and arranging them into a bouquet. I place them, quill first, into the oozing wound and press very hard, allowing them to spin a bit in her flesh before letting them rest.

Not a scream… but growling is something, I guess.

“You disgusting… freak. You -mphf!” I hold her muzzle closed around the fruit I’ve given her.

“You must eat something, or else you’ll die of thirst before we’re done. Also, one shouldn't sing with a dry mouth, right?”

She struggles but instinct wins as she swallows the bit with a restrained gulp. “Eugh!” She shuts her eyes and exhales. “...more, please.”

“More? Certainly. I’m not a monster after all, right?” I take several pieces from the floor and hold them above her muzzle. Reluctantly she opens her mouth, letting the drops of wetness enter. I let one fall into her mouth. She doesn’t chew, just swallows. Same for the next, and next. “You really should chew, it’s better for the digestion, after all.”

“But,” she gulps, “it’ll take longer to digest this way and maybe I won’t starve before you let me go, or I escape.”

“Again with this?” I say with exasperation. Oh, the things we’re going to do.

“I’ll never give up. I’m not the meek mare I pretend to be; most ponies are even stronger than me. I grew up fighting for everything I got, and that includes working for Grey Withers. I was the best, strongest, smartest mare I had to be and I acted my part to get to the top. I’ll be cursed before I let you make it all worthless.”

I take the bouquet of feathers and press them deeper into her leg, albeit not much as they were already pretty far and bone isn’t giving. I trot around her and open a new wound, same as the other, and plant another bouquet in her. I take note that both bouquets are waving slightly, moving in line with her muscle tensing.

“Do be a dear and sing for me.”

“No! I won’t whistle, sing, hum, anything for you.” I note her voice reverberating through the room.

I sigh as I raise the blade and press it to another part of her flesh. I drag the blade lengthwise, at an angle, from postern to the top of her coffin just deep enough to break the skin and draw blood in the center of the cut. She isn’t singing for me yet, though. I take more feathers and place them in the opening, gently.

Having a spot of fun at the moment, I repeat the process until her legs are lovely in their own right. She’s snarling, holding back noise and tears quite well. “Oh, you don’t know what I’ve done, do you? I’ve placed the feathers I’ve plucked from you into cuts on your legs. You’re quite the bouquet. In fact, I think I should bring a mirror to show you what I’ve done. Should I get one now?”

“I don’t care, you’re going to do, what you want, right?”

“I suppose I do and shall, I’ll be back tomorrow, maybe.”

I cast the spell around her and move to the door, then wait as the spell elapses. She weeps for a moment while testing her restraints. Grunting and fighting with all her might, she yells, screams, calls for help… even whispers a quiet prayer to gods that don’t exist, hopefully. She cries this time, openly and fully, begging for her freedom to what she believes to be an empty room. I cast a silence spell below me then lay on my belly, ignoring the cold cement to watch the mare on the table. To listen as she cries and fights to no avail, and I know I have complete control of her life now.

After nearly an hour at the sound of her whimpering and futile struggling I hear a spilling sound and take that as the insult it is. I stand and move closer. “So,” she inhales sharply and her eyes snap to me, “this is what happens when I leave? You flush filth all over my table and floor?” She blushes. “And after I told you how much I care for this table.”

She blinks and her blush deepens before she yells. “You’re sick! Disgusting and crazy, the spawn of evil itself, aren’t you?”

I groan as she berates me. “Very well, I’ll leave you be and when I return I certainly hope you’ll be in better spirits. Oh, and since you seem to be quite vocal, I have a gift for you. Something I’ve been saving for a while,” I float a box from my coat and hold it above her, then open it. She gasps quietly. “Yes, it’s lovely, isn’t it? It’s an enchanted blue diamond. The enchantment, before you ask, is silence.

“A gift for every stallion upon their marriage to a mare. A comical gift, once I heard of the tradition, but playing with you it makes sense. The old saying that if one cannot say anything nice, it is best to say nothing at all is what the tradition is from, and oftentimes silence must be enforced. Every married couple has one of these… well, every married couple that has a stallion involved, that is.

“Simply place the gem on the body and they won’t be able to make a sound, but can listen to everything happening around them. The point of this blue gem is to help a couple take turns talking the problem through resolution. Now, I’ll just place this right… hrm, one moment,” I move to her other side and pull open the cut above her hoof and force the gem inside her body with the feathers.

A warm breeze blows over me as a bird chirps while it lands on me. It’s talons lightly dig into my skin, but it sings a lovely song for the seconds it’s there before the basement returns in force. I look at the mare and her face is twisted in pain, her mouth open, silently. I urgently grip the gem with my magic and yank it from her body, blood splatters upon my face but I don’t care as the meadow returns.

A warm feeling fills my heart while I’m here that I’m not used to. It’s wholesome, fulfilling in a way I’ve never been able to experience outside of dreams or fantasies, or recently with Fleur, but this is so much more real. It’s like the warmth of my very existence is welling up from within me and spreading to the real world. Is this what Princess Celestia feels when she raises the sun?

The scene fades and I return to my senses and the mare lying beneath me. I return the gem to her body and feel an emptiness as the room falls deathly silent. “That, was a beautiful song. Please, sing for me again when I return. Perhaps you can survive longer that way, perhaps not. Please do think about it.”

I watch as she struggles against her bonds in silence as I leave. As an added torture, I dispel the lights and seal the exit.

I ascend the stairs into the kitchen and stop to grab a peach and some grapes to snack on while I read in my study. I don’t notice the gasps the ponies make as I pass them, naked and with droplets of red across my chest. With little much ado, I grumble in broken sentences while I walk just loudly enough to be heard while acting as though I'm keeping silent, "Red paint... can't even color in peace... rodents."

Without a doubt, everypony will think my secret hobby of the years has been me painting; which isn't truly wrong, to be honest. Only now I have a new source of red, and it's not a common housepet.

I return to the room hours after sunset to a genuine surprise. It is clean, nearly spotless from all the mess the mare had made and her body seems to have been cleaned, too.

I move to her, the light scent of mint tickles my nose, and look at her. She's asleep. I take my scalpel and cut into her scabbing wounds, waking her with quite a shock, I'm certain.

I remove the gem like one would open a peanut and place it beside her on the table and the sound returns to her.

She comes to her senses after a few seconds and her voice hitches. “I can speak again? Well good, now I'll give you one last chance for you to let me go. I don't know how you convinced Grey Withers to join you, but at least he's kind.

“He cleaned me, fed me, made me feel like a pony. The diseased freak in the room with me now didn't do any of that. You-”

While she's rambling I take some string and wrap it around her left wing arm several times, then she stops speaking for a second as I yank it as tight as I can without breaking the string. I measure and make sure it’s near the base, then I take a small saw and hold it an inch from the tip of the wing.

“-gonna do? Pluck me again? I won't humor you with a scream or feigned pleasure. You won't-”

Her words stop as the blade moves quick and hard, taking the end of her wing and the primary feathers with it. “You were saying?” Her teeth grind as a tear leaves her eye. “Oh, now you’re going to be quiet? Please, let me see how well you play at being silent.” I bring the saw back to her wing, at the elbow joint, but two inches past.

The teeth of the saw move through flesh like it wasn’t there and begins to grate lightly against the bone. Her eyes twitch and she screams into her closed mouth, she convulses as she fights her binds. “The pain must be unbearable, you certainly have a strong will… I wonder,” I stop sawing about one-third of the way through, “how long it will take to break your silence?”

I take her wing and bend it sharply. The snap sends tingles to my stallionhood, but hearing her singing, feeling it take me to that meadow of imagination. It feels so real here. Certainly it must exist in my mind, only. But to come here I need this song to be sung for me, a song of pain, agony, and fear. Is this is the only way to get here? Then I will make the most of it while I am here.

I feel her wing, still in my grasp, and tug the wing apart against its design. My heart flutters as her song caresses me in melliferous melody. I’m fully aroused now, yet all I can do it sway to the harmony I hear. I see a pair of dogs mating under the one tree and it makes me ache to release as I watch them. I look down and this time I see an outline of the mare, her body tensing and pulling. Her wings twitching in their barred binds and the one in my grip, oozing blood slowly thanks to the tourniquet.

I lean over and bite the dangling part in my teeth and slowly pull back. I shudder as I feel the flesh tearing and I see a tendon holding firm to its root in her back, exposing itself more and more as I pull the wing from her body.

I stumble away when it’s torn free, raising my muzzle to the imaginary sky as erotic bliss takes me in its embrace.

I’ve never felt so aroused, especially by a song. And this sugarcane is so nice, too. It’s crunchy, warm, sweet, yet with a unique flavor I can’t describe.

I look to the fuzzy image of the mare as she fades into view more clearly, only this time the meadow remains. She has joined me? Now she can share in the beauty I see!

I look at her crying face and roll my eyes. “Darling, can’t you see what you’ve created? It’s lovely, so beautiful and warm.

“Even the sugarcane is amazing. Here, try some! I’ve eaten most of it, but there’s still some flavor left if you suck and chew it hard enough.” I kiss the sugarcane from my mouth into hers and she spits it out. “What?! Why you-” I growl, “-you will eat what I share with you!” I shove the sugarcane into her mouth and close her muzzle around it. “You lower class ponies are all the same. You look at us nobles like we’re everything, but when we share with your kind you spit in our faces. You are the disgusting ones, not I.”

The meadow fades in the silence, but she looks at me with pleading eyes, her face pales. She coughs twice in a restrained manner before a stream of vomit shoots from her nostrils, arcing slightly before raining down upon her as I cast a rain shield upon myself. I keep her muzzle closed while she spews foul smelling fruit chunks from her nose and around us, splattering across her upper body and head. She tries to scream between spouts but it’s drowned out quickly.

I notice even her eyes seem to be seeping some vomit for some reason I’ll have to research later.

She begins to convulse, this time I take it seriously and I take her head harness off and turn her away from me before I release her muzzle and let her breathe. She coughs, hacks, dry heaves, vomits, spits, and cries for a couple minutes before she calms enough to be restrained again. I restrap her head a little tighter than I had last time and I see the flesh pulling tautly around her eyes, limiting her ability to blink.

“Feel better?” She makes an odd noise as I trot around the table and smile into her bleary, vomit covered face. “What did you think about that sugarcane? I think it’s delightful, personally. Shall I carve you some more?”

She tries to pull her head away and shuts her muzzle, shaking her declination. “No, I,” she starts with a raspy voice and a cough, “I’m sorry for what I called you before. I had no right to say anything to you and,” she clears her throat with a wet sound then winces as she gulps, “I apologize.”

“My, how polite of you. You’re not even close to earning my forgiveness for calling me ‘dude’, but you’re certainly right. You do deserve to cleanse your body of such filth, just not yet.”

“Can I have something to drink, Master?” She blinks and gulps, looking down a little to see me.

I smile at her and nod, moving from her sight. I trot around the table and take the head straps in my magic. “Am I going to be freed, Master?”

“I will free you, eventually. As of now, I have to finish what I’ve started as best as I’m able. You see, if I leave your wing as it is, there’s a good chance you’ll suffer distracting pain for the rest of our play date, and we can’t have you distracted, can we?”

“Please, don’t do this anymore,” she weeps and blubbers, “I’m sorry for every word I said and will do anything for you… just please, no more. Find it in your heart to not-” she screams, but it doesn’t echo through the meadow I’m back in, still holding her head between my hooves, as I saw at a nice pace through her wing, four inches from the tourniquet, until it falls free.

I pull the flesh back over the cut end that’s now blunted and bleeding at a slightly too fast pace and return the saw to the exposed bone, trimming it down by two inches. I return the flesh and hold it closed while release the string from her wing sending a squirt of blood to the table before I wrap and tie several times the end closed.

“There, a very nice amputation, if I must say so. When you calm, you’ll be able to tell me about your experience. Now, I shan’t waste another moment and do the same to the other.”

“NO! Celestia, no! Please, Master Fancy Pants, don’t take my other wing! I beg of you -- I vow to be quiet forever about all of this, if you’ll just not take my wings! I’ll do anything, anything! Nooo-” she screams and pleads as I finish tying the knots and begin to saw near the base of her right wing, cutting it off and then repeating the trimming and wrapping of her amputated limb.

She stopped screaming just as I finished sawing through her wing, now only a steady stream of tears running down the sides of her head and short gasps are the only sound she makes. How poetic! I simply must write something, albeit less macabre, for Fleur.

“There we are, now! And, as you requested I’ll keep your wings here.” I wink. She’s staring intently at the sky above us and I truly hope she sees the meadow as I do, for the playroom ceiling would be most depressing to have to stare at.

“Well, I suppose it’s time to have a little more fun? Are you feeling up to it?” She doesn’t answer, shock having taken effect. “Well, I believe this will excite you as it does me.”

I take her wings and hold them together and begin to flap them around, mimicking them flying through the air above her. “Caw, caw,” I chuckle, “I’m a bird, caw!”

She slowly blinks her agreement at the humor of the moment and I notice tears streaming across her head more than before. She must be so thirsty by now, I muse to myself. You have two more days without water before you die, and I won't let that happen. You'll die by my hoof and magic before dehydration takes you.

“Oh, do you want these back?" I ask mockingly. "I have a proposal for you that I think you’ll like very much. You agree to be my slave and serve me forever, and I’ll return your wings. If you agree, nod once.” She’s tied too tight to move so I shrug at her lack of agreement. “Very well, I’ll just set these aside and we’ll come back to that.

“This is a new thing I’ve always wanted to try, a game I call ‘who’s got my hoof?’”

I take a hammer, the saw, several knives, and twine this time to her left rear leg and go to work. She’s silent at first but as I begin my first cut around her hoof she starts to twitch and moan. I finish my roundabout with the blade and take a smaller scalpel to separate flesh from muscle and that’s when she screams.

I tune her out and focus on the birds and the wind in the trees, letting the combined sounds focus me as I cut to her muscle and begin to sever those loose.

Her hoof is moving still; I must cut the nerve or the right muscle group.

I bite my tongue in concentration and find a healthy ligament and slice through it in several broad cuts, then I find a tendon! It’s moving in tandem with the movements of the hoof, up and down at the same time. I take my larger sharp bladed cooks knife and bring it from tip to tang in a smooth motion and the corners of my mouth jerk up with the audible snap it makes when it’s separated.

I move the blade to the back side of her leg and cut deeply several times until I feel something akin to a rubber band snapping. It fills me with glee, true elation makes me titter like a school filly.

The hoof is now limp, but I need to finish this in order to start the game. I take a screwdriver and push it into her exposed joint, where the tendon lies motionless and blood seeps slowly at her hoof, and I strike the other end with the hammer. I harumph at the lack of effect and repeat the action, harder. This time the hoof jerks, but doesn’t do anything else.

Her noises are beginning to distract me, but the birds and breeze in the sky, ruffling the leaves in the tree are fighting her, making a cacophony of noise that I have to silence. I roar into the afternoon sky as loud as I can for two lungs worth of air and when I stop there’s silence, save for her cowardly whimpering, sobbing, and pathetic pleading.

Returning to the task, I tap a hoof on my chin in thought. An idea strikes and I begin to turn the screwdriver against the bones, offering a solid whack with the hammer when I feel like it to try to wedge them apart. Then, when the silly tool slips deeper into the hoof and breaks through the wall, I laugh as I see the flat side of the screwdriver poking out of her hoof and I look over to see a group of cats laughing even more than I am.

I pull the screwdriver backward and out of the limp, bleeding hoof and let my humorous side take over for a few seconds as I use my screwdriver and hammer to take her shoe off and I let the shoe itself rest on her exposed flesh. “I’ll forget this if I don’t put it here -- it’s my lucky horseshoe!” I laugh to the growing crowd of cats.

Nearly every cat I’ve played with is gathering in attendance, it seems.

I roll my eyes across her bleeding, exposed bone and decide to try something else. I take the saw in my magic and I begin trying to saw through her cannon bones, but they’re too strong for the smaller teeth of the saw, so I resort to more brutal methods and spend nearly two minutes hammering at her bones, cutting all around the hoof and exposed flesh and sinew until I’m peeling bone from bone, layer by layer, and twisting the hoof until it’s almost free, but it’s still attached to something!

I grunt and take my saw to the best opening I can and saw like a mad pony until the hoof falls, with a clatter, to the table and I squeal with foalish glee, clapping my hooves together and grinning like I got my dream gift on Hearths Warming.

“I did it! Finally, it was way harder than any paw I’ve ever had to work with… but I did it! Look,” I pick it up in my magic and spin it around slowly to look it over, no blood remains on it when I’m done examining it. My heart pounds with excitement at my successful extremity removal, but she doesn’t share my excitement.

“Wake up! You’re missing the moment, scum!” I shout and grip her stump with my magic and pull the flesh up, exposing more nerves to cold unfiltered air. She grimaces and whimpers, but doesn’t open her eyes. “You little feather humper, I’ll help you wake up!”

I take the first bladed knife I see and go to her eyes and lift her lids enough so I won’t cut into her eyeplates. I cut a circle from them, one each, large enough to let her see the world through closed eyes.

Now she can’t hide from what I’m doing! Now she’s going to look and watch as I turn her into a work of art.

She moves her eyes with her lids still closed, blood pooling against her pupils as I watch her trembling eyes shifting directions. Her lips tremble and before she speaks, she sings her song to me. Her eyelids open and nearly clean the blood from her eyes, but no matter how many times she blinks her eyes, the blood won’t clear enough for her to see.

I didn’t think this one through… I frown at myself in retrospect. Another idea comes to mind, something mother used to do when I’d once fallen and scraped my leg quite badly.

I move to the stream that flows through the meadow, collect water in a mug that was set on a tree stump, then return to her and dump it across her eyes. I return to the stream and get another mug to repeat the task.

Three more times and I can see her eyes without blood on them, the flow stopped enough while she was thrashing and it had apparently just pooled wet blood, with nowhere to move it away it just smeared across her lenses. Now, with much more clear eyes, and an inability to hide away, I showed her the fruits of my labor.

After the third splash of water she’d shut her muzzle and just stared at the ceiling, or sky, whatever.

She’s trembling a lot, too. But that’s all she’s done since her eyes were cleared. “Darling, aren’t you proud of me? I’ve actually removed a pony hoof! This’ the most excited I’ve been playing in ages, forget the damned game. I say,” I grin down into her eyes and see my visage, near pristine white with only a couple drops of blood on me, “we simply must do this with the other leg! What say you?”

She trembles in silent agreement.

I take two total minutes this time to pry her right rear hoof free and only a little wasted effort and blood for my troubles. Simply astounding at how quickly I have adapted to this.

“Darling, I believe you deserve a prize for staying with me through this last one.” I place both removed hooves beside her on the table and unstrap her hind legs, and they instantly curl to her body… then she whimpers, sobs, and bawls. “You really should be proud of yourself, my dear. There’s not a single pegasus in Canterlot with missing wings and hooves; you’re truly one of a kind now.”

She screams in what I can only presume to be desperation and I sigh wistfully at the melody she makes.

Truly, she’s going mad right now and I’m honored with watching her slip away. I believe I have a long playdate with this mare, longer than the projected weekend. I dare say, she’s growing on me in an odd way.

I feel warm blood splash against my body as she thrashes wildly, bucking and twisting in her binds and I revel in the scent and flavor. At the same time, I feel an admiration for her, as though I were watching a foal taking its first steps.

Truly, a splendid sight to see. It is as though she’s being born again into a new life.

I lean close to her ear. “This is only the beginning of our time together,” I say flatly as she lashes out with unintelligible words. I stand back, heart pounding in my chest, as I watch her mind, spirit, will, and hope breaking, dissolving before me... and I smile at what’s to come.

Author's Note

Hope this was good for you.
Comment and let me know, plz.

Epilogue (c)(g)

I wake up in the middle of the night, Fleur climbing into bed freshly showered. I can tell the difference from the depth of the scent she’s covered in, and she has only a light mask of coconut covering her beautiful natural scent.

She hums when I wrap my leg over her and pull her close to me, I nuzzle into her mane with a snort.

“Fancy, that tickles. Are you in the mood?”

“No, darling. I’ve simply had the most relaxing evening, every ounce of stress I feel I’ve ever had was released over the past few hours and I think I’ll be having the best sleep tonight, especially with you here with me.”

“Awe, Fancy Pants, that’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard. You’re so nice to me,” she moves back closer and sighs as I move my head to rest on her neck.

“How was your evening?” I ask softly, sleep encroaching upon me.

“Same as it’s been for the past while, Fancy,” she yawns, “I was motherly and nothing more. He’s a foal in a stallion’s body,” she yawns again, “he even drank milk from a bottle again,” she chuckles softly while I do. “At least I can sing him to sleep, it’s good practice,” we share a sigh as I lower my leg and place a hoof on her extended belly, falling asleep with a smile.

...

I open my eyes and the morning light shines into my eyes warmly. Not nearly as bright as it would be had I not purchased tinting glass, I’m far from a fool, afterall. With a quiet but long exhale, Fleur’s ears twitch.

“Already awake?” she asks and turns to face me, resting a hoof against my sheath. “Maybe you can help me wake up, too?”

I feel a stirring that I can’t deny as my muscles relax and I begin to expose. She rolls to her belly and scoots down the bed and moves between my hind legs, barrel against the base of my balls. She takes me into her warm mouth with a hum, flair first. She bobs a little then stands on her front legs fully, taking almost all of me into her mouth and down her throat.

I shudder as the tingles from the ring on my shaft move through my rod and into my body with haste. From there she takes the consistent motions of in and out that are so typical, yet as I lay back and revel in the slurping sounds, feeling of warm mouth and suddenly chilled air cycling… I hear birds chirping.

My ears turn to the sound but I don’t see anything outside the closed balcony doors. The feelings churning inside me are powerful and wonderful, but something is stirring in my mind, something I can’t explain.

The alternate reality is returning, and I can’t explain why. It’s slowly appearing, we’re on a bed of grass in the wheat fields on my lands with only my past animals living their afterlives peacefully.

Fleur stops sucking me and climbs up my body, rubs her teats against my rod from base to tip then I feel my cock stop against the base of her tail. We lock eyes and she lowers to kiss me, her firm lips belie the soft tongue that dances into my mouth, her breath is so hot and wet, making me mewl like a cat.

She giggles, using her tail to lower my flair enough to press against her vulva. She inhales sharply, deeply at the feeling of my sliding inside her body as she rocks her hips backwards. She bites her lip and closes her eyes as she passes my ring and whimpers.

I close my eyes and inhale the scent of fresh wheat and grass. The fields returning fully with my former playmates playing, others stopping to watch our sexual act. Even though I’m certain it’s quite the sight to see, I prefer to share this experience alone. My horn alights and I cast everything away from us.

“My, my. I’ve never seen you push before,” she tells me breathily, “I hope to see what you do next.” With that statement she moves her hind up my body until I’m almost out of her, then with a rush of sensations, mostly her tight pussy sliding all the way to the base of my cock with a slapping sound.

She moans loudly each time her bottom snacks my body.

Four more times and I’m at the threshold. With a warning, as a gentlecolt should, I lean up, wrap my forelegs around her barrel, and call ‘Fleur’, several times as I release my seed inside her.

I feel overflow spilling onto my belly as she refuses to stop, moaning, groaning into her closed mouth. Finally, she exhales with a whinney as she bottoms out, taking my all inside her again. She calls my title and full name twice as she orgasms, drool leaving her mouth as her hooves dig into the bed, an audible ripping sound ticking my ear, reminding me I’m not in a field of wheat, as it seems.

Her legs give and she lands on me, forcing a breath out of me from her weight that I won’t mention to her, ever.

She rolls to her side of the bed and with an amazing tingling feeling leaves me to the cool, torturous air of the room. A squelch from her nethers sends us both snickering, out of breath and spent, sexually.

We share a jovial moment before she suddenly rolls away from me and is on her hooves with a hop. “Okay, I am so ready for the day now! We have a supper party at Canterlot Gardens, lunch with Blueblood’s secret boyfriend. That Blueblood, never would have thought, to be honest. Then there’s-” she continues to speak of her, our, plans into and through her time in the bathroom. She returns and picks all the covers, pillows, and comforters from the floor and puts them onto the bed beside me. “Get up, Fancy,” she whines with a pout of her lip, “we have so much to do today and I can’t waaait.”

“Oh, darling, please. After what you just did to me I’d be surprised if I could even walk.”

She picks me up in her magic with a bit of strain on her face. “You get up… and dressed, we’re going to do stuff today,” she lets me go and I land on my hooves, then pants. “And we’re gonna have fun, right?”

My legs wobble slightly but hold, I look below me to see several drops leave my retracting rod and huff. “Sorry darling, I tried to put it all where it belongs. Instead I waste some, we should have another go to make sure it’s all where it belongs.”

She looks at me with a smirk. “Not a chance, I’m already going to carry your scent for days after this one. We’ve got things to do and places to go, and I won’t go there walking sideways and spilling your semen across my tail as we transverse the city.”

I blink at the imagery she gives me and I feel another stirring.

“Oh no you don’t, Fancy,” she opens my closet and tosses an outfit at me, “stop thinking of making me more pregnant and get dressed,” she turns with a grace that is like pouring water into a pond and prances to the bedroom door, opening it as she goes. Before she leaves her tail moves quickly to the side, showing me a small stream of white cum from her slit connected to her tail, then closes the door without even looking back at me once.

That mare drives me mad, in a good way.

I look at the mare on the table below me, her hind legs were tied tightly to prevent further blood loss until a week ago, leaving permanent binding marks on her ankles but bones exposed quite well. Her wing nubs healed over nicely as well, twitching irregularly. She looks at the ceiling, eyelids closed, but still open. I smile to myself at what I’ve done and accomplished. I speak softly to the mare. “Rider, are you here?”

No answer.

I bring a watering pot full of water to her muzzle I pour some to her lips, an ounce at most. “Rider?” I pour some more and her lips purse and open a crack. She inhales and her eyes wander as her sticks her tongue out. Once water passes her teeth she jerks slightly, fighting her bonds to get at the water.

I pour at a steady pace, slowing when needed so she doesn’t choke or inhale. She slurps, bites, gulps the water almost violently until it’s all gone. Her eyes are open, having been opened for some time, it seems, and she’s looking at me, panting to catch her breath. I unstrap her head and look at the imprint of the strap across her head from so many weeks.

“Wh-why?”

“‘Why’ what?”

“W-water, food, alive?”

“Ah, why not let you die? Why give you water and food? Why keep you alive the way you are?” I ask. She whimpers agreement. “Because, my pet,” I run my soft, polished hoof across her muzzle and lean over her, looking into her trembling eyes, “as I said, you’re mine in exchange for your wings.”

She gulps, her hind legs lower to the table with a clack as her exposed bones strike the table, not even a wince anymore as her legs have practically healed by now. She looks to the ceiling and closes her eyelids for some reason. “Rider, ready,” is all she says as I bring light to my horn.

“Then, let’s continue...”

Dear Journal.

It’s been several months since Fleur and I have been wed. Many things have transpired, each greater than the last and each brought nearly the destruction of our lands by increasingly terrifying monsters.

I laugh at the beasts as I write in your leather bound cover, using blood as ink in my ‘secure vault’.

I must say that since Nightmare Moon reared her lovely head it’s been so easy to expand my playroom into a playhouse.

I’m just another noble trying to hide from their problems, as far as the world is concerned. It’s unfortunate only Grey Withers and I have access to the bunker I’m in, as if there is a true event I’ll have to leave Fleur behind while I hide in here. She doesn’t know that, though.

In honesty, I don’t believe she could handle the smell for long. And I’d have to risk putting her on one of my tables to keep my secrets safe. So I’d rather her die on the mountain surface than in here, under me. I love her too much to watch her die, and there’s only one other mare I can say that about.

Oh, number 21 is waking up and it’s about time I start the game. I’ll update you with the events when it’s over.

Ta-ta

I lower the quill and make certain to cover the inkwell firmly so the blood doesn’t dry out again. It’s not as easy to come by blood that works right in a paper book without, pardon the pun, bleeding into other lines or letters or through pages.

I leave my small office adjacent to the large round room that is supposed to be an after world dance area for those I save with me. As if. The room is darkened outside the only light cast a length and a half around the immediate table in use, and I’ve many tables to use these days.

I stay out of sight while he wakes up and struggles for a while. He shouts and calls, asking for release and for somepony to help him. I watch until he sighs in his restraints and relaxes before letting my pet loose from her room. The door clanks loudly as it’s lock is undone and squeals on its hinges when it swings open.

I watch through the magical darkness as time passes and the stallion begins speaking to whoever may be there. Her forehoof pokes through the crack in the door, then her snout pokes through. With a snort she peeks her head out and looks both ways before taking a step out of her room.

I pull a holding pin on the underside of this table and he yelps the table falls, stopping with him strapped still, sideways, facing the mare in the darkness.

“Hello? I think I broke your table, and I’m really sorry. I can help fix it or buy you a new one, if you’ll help me get loose I’ll start on that right away.”

Celestia’s anus, these ponies are still as ignorant and kind as ever. I roll my eyes and look to the mare that’s now got her one ear perked in his direction. She moves from the room, wings sewn to her sides; primaries dragging on the floor. I watch as she moves her front left, hind left with a limp, front right, rear right with a limp.

The unnatural sounds of bones instead of hooves striking the stone floor is unnerving to me, even after all this time, I wonder how he’s handling it.

He twitches as the bones clack on the floor, he’s silent now, eyes wide watching, waiting for what’s making them to enter the light. Rider, so renamed since she no longer truly has wings, reaches the light border and pensively raises a foreleg. Trembling, she poked the boundary, testing it.

“Hello?! I see your hoof, can you release me? I’m really a nice stallion and I’ll be your friend, I’ll even buy you-”

He’s talking, as friendly and ignorant as them all. Rider has been trained well, though. I just have to stand here and watch the fun begin.

She extends her leg fully into the light, I watch her eyelids scrunch as she fears the light. Completely unable to hide from it now, she lives in dimness and darkness in the room I’ve given her. What some would call a coat closet can be more of a bedroom than they’d believe.

He’s grinning, but here it comes…

“I’m Riled Leaves, what’s your name?”

She gurgles mucus in the back of her throat as she balances and steps into the light, just her front half though. He stares at her for merely two seconds before screaming like a foal wanting attention - which reminds me of the future I’ll be having in a mere couple months - as she opens her eyelids, blinking several times more by instinct than training.

He struggles in his restraints while fear takes complete control of him, then he pisses. Disgusting mud stomper.

She sneers as he releases himself and scowls at him. “Shut up, beast! How dare you sully Master’s floor?!” her voice resonates through the room, he still whimpers through his closed muzzle. Her voice is deep and as threatening as she can make it. “You see me? What I have done to please my master? To earn his love and kindness? To have my wings returned to me?!

“I found truth in Him, and you dare to piss in his home?! You disgusting mudder,” she spits red tinted spit onto the floor. Ah, she’s enjoying the strawberries, I see. She moves from the shadows completely, her rear ankles coming into view are what his eyes lock onto.

I can see the stallion’s mane from this angle and it’s prickling, he’s going to vomit soon! Oh, if it gets on Rider he’s in for a thrashing. I muse to myself.

“Look at me,” she hisses and moves her wing stubs as though she were flying, “am, am I pretty?” she asks him, kindness in her voice.

“Gmuh… Uh, yyyes?”

“Yes? You, think... you think I’m pretty?” she cocks her head to the side and smiles, showing the missing teeth I pulled to encourage her obedience.

“Yyesss,” he makes a hiccup sound, “maybe you can let me go and I can,” he gulps as she moves closer to him, merely a leg's length away, “bbbuy yyou ssome, uh,” he looks her over, avoiding everything about her, “food?”

“Oh? What kind?”

“Uhm… garden vegetable salad, uh, soup?”

“You’re making fun of my teeth! You know I don’t have them all and you’re offering my crunchy food?! You are a monster,” she finishes with a showing of her teeth. At least she has most of her molars, I’m quite kind, indeed.

“M-miss, I’m… I,” she raises a hoof and brings it down across his belly, scratching him badly enough to bring blood but not enough to make him scream, thankfully. He hisses in pain, eyes shut. He opens them again and jolts, she’s almost muzzle to muzzle with him.

“You have many, I want them. Master, he will get them for me,” she scans his body and stops when she comes across his hind hooves and moves quickly to them. “And, your hooves, too. I like your hooves, maybe,” she blinks obviously to him, so he sees her eyes watching him, “they will fit me.”

“Pplease, don’t tell your Master I’m here. I’ll never tell anypony about you, or this place. I, I don’t even know where it is,” he starts to weep, tears dripping to the floor parallel to his body.

“Mmmmaaaasssterrrr…” she calls softly as she smiles to him and turns to the shadows to leave.

“No! Don’t leave me here, untie me!”

“Mmmmaaaasssterrrr…” she calls again as she disappears into the shadows and moves back to her doorway. I move a large bag of soft foods and candy above her and into her room for her when she gets there. She knows to close the door, slowly for effect. Her steps clacking unevenly as she goes, the only other sound is his whimpering.”

A few minutes of a silence spell over my head while I think of my accounts payable and last balances. Ah, my net worth is nearly fifteen million bits, with an average four percent yearly growth over the past six years would mean-” I stop my thoughts as the time on the spell elapses and the sound of blubbering fill my ears. I roll my eyes and smile as it’s my time to begin my fun.

Ah, a new entry on a new page. The other side of you, mister parchment, is a dark green pile of leaves with a blue axe crossed with an orange rake. It works well with the light brown of what was his coat, but his flesh is mostly peach. Well, was. He-he-he.

Ah, what to say? I have a whole page to fill, with two marks making one page it’s actually quite a lot to fill. Each page is unique and -~~~~~~

Wasting good blood and parchment again. Reference almost every page and stop writing everything you think and feel. Facts are most important, for posterity. I still may pass all this on to somepony and I need them to know the beauty of what happens here.

I started with his marks, laying them aside to dry while I began with his ears, then rolled the table so he was standing, relatively, then played a couple of my favorite games. I’m a fan of ‘going fishing for answers’ and ‘who’s got my hoof’, but I added ‘I spy’, this time.

For descriptions of each game, reference appendix (haha) 1.

I cast the stasis spell on each limb as I went as I skinned his legs. Again, no blood loss thanks to the spell, and the spell also paralyzed the muscles but not the nerves so his song was nice. I was at sea again, on my yacht with a few of my other pony playmates while I played with my short term friend.

I burned off his fur across his underbelly, sliced his tail into three strips and watched as they each moved in their own way. I laughed like a madpony as I rested my head below him and let his blood pour over me, matting my fur heavily and the taste was quite nice, honestly. He’s eating a well balanced diet, for certain. Well, he was.

I reinforced my spells around his body, including his eyes but not the rest of his head, made sure the mirror was in place and angled so he’d have to watch, unable to see anything else, and opened him up.

A shot of adrenaline into his heart made sure he was awake and the spells stopped blood flow to all but where I wanted it to go. Thankfully I learned my lesson by pony nine and haven’t had a single unwanted bleed out in months.

He sent me on a far away journey with my other playmates across the seas with his song. He watched and felt as I cut pieces free from his body, one by one. Some I placed on myself, other’s I’d do the usual and rub across my coat.

He wasn’t too pleased with that, but I didn’t mind a little dry heaving while I played doctor.

I moved the mirror so he could watch, so he could know where I was playing as I finished removed everything except his heart and lungs Then, I decided to play some music since he had resorted to dull moaning at that point.

I cut him along his sternum and tore his flesh from muscle, then cut the muscle from bone. With a metal wire I cleaned a couple ribs and, of course, gave him another shot and an insomnia spell. I took the back of two screwdrivers and began to tap a beat while he moaned his pleas.

Finally I decided to finish up and poked a hole in each lung and when they deflated I cut his heart free and drank from it.

It’s worth a day of diarrhea for the experience alone.

I cut him up into as small chunks as I could and placed him in the box, Rider can clean the rest up, as usual. I mounted the mare to release before I came to my office to write in you on fresh cutie parchment. The mare is certainly eager to please her master, and was too eager to take my gifts of food and rod of mercy.

Ah, also, Rider's pregnancy is going very well, by the way. She’s about ten months along and I figure I can ‘adopt’ her baby into the mansion above out of goodwill next year once the foal is off the teat.

Well, until the next entry or the time I have more to amend, fare thee well!