Tempest's Shocking Tease

The enemy's flagship sailed above the plains of Equestria with grim purpose. Twilight squinted across the horizon as Canterlot emerged through the haze. The Storm King's airships circled the city like hungry vultures and choked the sky with black smoke. So many ponies had counted on Twilight to save the day, but rather than returning as a hero she would arrive in a cage.

The clangs of her captor's iron hooves drew near. Tempest gloated in victory, yet for all her pretensions as a blackhearted commander she had revealed a weakness. Hidden under all the metal and scars was a lost mare who wanted to find her place in the world and make a real friend. This was Twilight's new mission. Maybe her last.

“Face it, Princess,” Tempest said. “Friendship has failed you too.”

Pinkie Pie's crestfallen face haunted her memory. Twilight had abandoned her friends at the edge of the world, and all of Equestria might soon pay the price for her arrogance, but she had to summon the courage to move past her mistakes. “Friendship didn't fail me. I failed friendship.”

Tempest strut across the deck as her broken horn sparked with crackling energy. “Don't beat yourself up, Princess. You're smart and resourceful. You carried that gang of imbeciles across a whole continent with me hot on your cute little tail.”

“I'm a princess because of my friends. If only you could see—”

Tempest pulled a lever that dropped the cage flat against the deck and knocked Twilight off balance. Tempest reached through the bars, cupped Twilight's chin in her hoof, and spoke in a reassuring tone. “After being cast out you'll blame yourself for not measuring up, but you'll soar higher without anyone weighing you down. Trust me.”

Twilight blinked and stammered as she lost herself in the piercing gaze from such an imposing figure—the mare who led armies, the mare who conquered nations, the mare who could do anything to her she wanted. An intoxicating thrill dulled her mind while Tempest rubbed along her jaw and down her neck. The steady drone of the airship's propellers mesmerized her further into a helpless trance.

A cool gust of wind swept across the deck and jolted Twilight back to reality. What's wrong with me?

Twilight took a deep breath in preparation for what may be her last chance at setting things right. “I know one thing that doesn't measure up: Equestria.”

Tempest's ears perked at the provocative statement, but her cold eyes narrowed into a skeptical glare. “Elaborate.”

“When I was a filly they taught us Equestria was perfect, and like everyone else I actually believed them. But then I grew older and traveled beyond Canterlot's gilded towers, out where the rest of ponykind lived, and you know what I saw? Pain, isolation, and ponies struggling to find their place. You have every right to be angry, because Equestria broke its promises and cast you aside, just like so many others.”

Tempest's eyes widened. She didn't expect such bitter truths from a princess.

Twilight continued with a firmer tone. “But your horn isn't worth restoring if the cost is hurting the innocent. The only way to rid yourself of that empty feeling is working with others to make the world a better place—for everyone.”

Tempest looked away. “It's too late for that. I wouldn't even know how.”

Twilight offered her hoof through the bars. “Then let me show you.”

Tempest opened her mouth, but words were in short supply. She stared down at the deck for quite some time before lifting her gaze to Twilight's outstretched hoof. Their manes flowed in the wind as they stood together in silence. Tempest's somber face brightened into a burgeoning smile, and Twilight's heart soared from the breakthrough—further proof that compassion and understanding always prevailed.

Tempest threw back her head and howled with laughter, a strained cackle from a mare who rarely expressed anything but contempt. “You princesses sure can deliver motivational speeches. Is this how you convince the peons to do your bidding?”

Twilight wanted to sink through the floor, but she couldn't give up. A flock of colorful birds flew alongside the airship, and their swarming numbers inspired a rush of confidence. “We ponies have a great many allies. They'll attack from all directions and overwhelm you.”

“Your concern is appreciated, but unwarranted. We've prepared for all contingencies.”

“What's your genius plan for when the dragons burn your fleet to ashes?”

Tempest studied the horizon. “By day's end the Storm Empire will be the world's unquestioned power. If you wish to see our battle plans you need only wait.”

The airship chugged closer to Canterlot by the minute. Winding rivers flowed across Equestria's verdant heartland like unraveling scrolls, and on their banks sat countless villages filled with the hopes and dreams of their citizens. Twilight reared up on her hind legs, pointed at their motherland, and shouted in desperation. “You think ponies will love you after this? You'll be history's biggest traitor. Your name will be a curse.”

“Let them curse and spit and sing their miserable songs. I wear their contempt as a badge of honor.”

Twilight slumped down the bars and her voice drew quiet. “So that's it. You don't think you're good enough for anyone's love, and you want to keep it that way out of spite.”

Tempest sneered. “You've read too many psychology books.”

“I don't need a book to know that destroying your birthplace won't make you whole.”

Tempest pinned her ears. “Are all princesses this melodramatic? A change in management isn't the apocalypse.”

“I traveled through your Empire. I saw refugees, shattered cities, and the downtrodden struggling in a world of misery and fear.”

Tempest took a deep breath and exhaled. “The Storm Empire has brought order to lawless lands and vanquished evils greater than you know. If you value Equestria you want someone like me protecting it.”

The excuses piled higher and higher into a fortress of dizzying sophistry. Twilight pressed between the bars and spoke in a soft tone. “It's not too late to change. Equestria isn't perfect, but forgiveness is our most celebrated virtue.”

Tempest pointed at Twilight's face. “You'd say anything to save your skin. If you could, you'd throw me overboard and cheer as I fell to my doom.”

“That's not true.”

“Listen, Princess—”

“Please, call me Twilight.”

Tempest's horn crackled with white hot energy. “I'll call you whatever I damn well please, Princess. You've been nothing but a pain in my ass.”

“I want to help you.”

A torrent of electricity burst from Tempest's horn and tore through Twilight's body. Her muscles convulsed in searing agony until she went limp and fell in a heap. Mocking laughter rained down from above.

“You can't even help yourself, Princess.”

A buzzing excitement flooded Twilight's extremities as the fading electrical currents danced across her skin. The blinding attack sapped her strength and rendered her helpless before this wicked mare, but the worst part was that realization gave her such an intense rush. The bewitching sweetness of ozone invaded her nostrils and brought memories of pegasi gathering storm clouds on the outskirts of Ponyville. Twilight braced herself against the cage as she struggled to rise on shaky legs.

Tempest circled the cage with a domineering stride. Her ruby tail swished and jerked as she studied Twilight's pathetic attempt to steady herself. “Mmm, I rather enjoy watching you cower before me. You're already so good at it.” A cold fire burned in Tempest's eyes as she ogled Twilight's figure without a hint of shame. Twilight gasped and pulled her tail against her rump in a last ditch effort to shield her modesty.

Tempest stood on her hind legs and leaned against the cage. “It's too bad a pretty little mare like you is such an insufferable know-it-all. It's about time someone taught you humility.”

Stunned, Twilight fell back on her haunches. Tempest couldn't possibly mean—

“You're wrong about them hating me, by the way. Power attracts supplicants and worshipers, and you'll be there with the rest of them kissing my hooves and begging for mercy.”

Twilight gulped. Despite her best efforts she had only marked herself as a target for Tempest's pent up frustrations.

Tempest marched toward the heavy wooden door to the ship's interior, wrenched it open, and glanced back with a playful smile before disappearing into the shadows. “Don't go anywhere, Princess.”

Another gust of freezing wind engulfed Twilight and tossed her mane into a tangled mess. She just couldn't win today. Despite the setback, there was no reason to change her approach. The dormant spirit of friendship would only awaken if Twilight treated Tempest with sympathy.

Still, what did she mean by teaching her humility? Twilight closed her eyes while dark desires simmered just below the surface of her psyche. These feelings of helplessness awakened fantasies she had always tried to push down, fantasies of powerless and frailty, and she feared Tempest glimpsed that weakness before she could hide behind her tail.

Twilight's restless imagination conjured a vision of the Canterlot Castle hallways in the dead of night. Silver moonlight bathed the marble corridors with ethereal pools of sanctuary in a sea of shadows. Tempest emerged from the darkness and beamed a sick predatory smile. Twilight galloped with all her might but couldn't get away, always losing ground, never strong enough to make a stand and defend herself. They raced through the sacred hall of stained glass windows until her stamina failed, and then Tempest leaped and pinned her to the plush carpet. Below Twilight's own portrait, Tempest smothered her with an oppressive strength, kissed her with abandon, forced her legs open, then reached down between her thighs and—no, no, no!

Shameful shivers ran through Twilight. Where were these depraved flights of fancy coming from? The Friendship Festival must be to blame. The planning, the details, the worrying, it had consumed so much energy, and she had failed to attend to her needs for far too long. Or maybe the electrical attack messed with her nerves, or this stupid wind was giving her hypothermia, whatever the case, it certainly wasn't because she actually wanted Tempest to do those perverted things. If only she could—

“Gah!”

The cage lurched forward and Twilight stumbled along with it. A storm soldier was shoving the prison across the deck while squinting at her with beady eyes. After a final push the metal enclosure docked against the hallway with a bone rattling thud. Tempest's hooves darted from behind and grabbed Twilight's throat, and in their brief struggle Tempest slipped a metallic band around Twilight's horn.

“This is a magic limiter of my own design, so don't get any bright ideas.”

The prison door flew open and Tempest stepped through the entrance with a devilish grin. Twilight tugged at the device, but it wouldn't budge. She summoned her telekinesis, but her horn only produced a fizzle of useless purple sparks.

“You're a poor listener,” Tempest said as she advanced. “But I can fix that.”

Twilight considered spinning around and kicking as hard as she could, but Tempest was such a battle hardened mare there's no way that would work. Tempest closed the gap one metallic step at a time and forced Twilight to cower in the back of the cage. Twilight prayed for a miracle, some bolt from the blue to save her, but she was all alone with this sinister mare. She clenched her eyes shut and steeled herself for a crippling attack.

Twilight's heart leaped into her throat as cold armor pressed against her sides. “P-Please, don't do… whatever it is you're thinking.”

Tempest's mouth hovered next to Twilight's ear. “What exactly would you like me to do, Princess?” Tempest discarded an iron shoe and caressed her naked hoof along the contour of Twilight's back before stopping just short of her tail. A fuzzy warmness spread through Twilight's chest, as if—against all evidence—everything was going to be all right. Tempest's hoof glided up Twilight's neck and brushed her windswept mane back into place in a surprising display of affection.

Tempest threw a foreleg around Twilight's shoulder and embraced her in a one sided hug. “Isn't this nice? Who knows, maybe we really can be friends.”

Twilight opened her eyes with trepidation. “Really?”

“Of course. Look, I even brought you a present. Friends give each other presents, right?” Tempest produced a gray metal case and slid it in front of Twilight. “Go ahead, open it.”

Twilight ignited her horn, but nothing happened. Duh, the limiter still blocked her magic. She reached down, popped the lid, and peered inside. A tiny cushion held up something dark and circular with a gleaming metal ring, but what in the world was it? Twilight's blood ran cold. It was a slave choker.

Tempest snapped the restraint around Twilight's neck and fastened it to a small chain leading to a silver band on her foreleg. “I'm afraid back in Canterlot I crushed your crown, but you look much better in a collar.”

Wide eyed, Twilight held the chain in her shaking hooves. This couldn't be happening.

“Look on the bright side. I'll be the one friend you can't lose today.” Tempest yanked at the harness and brought Twilight stumbling into the dingy hallway. “Step lively, Princess. I want to show you something.”

Twilight followed the chain into the grimy metal corridor. She kept several steps behind so as not to crowd into Tempest's personal space, but she also made sure not to fall behind. The more obedience she displayed the more the pressure around her neck eased. They passed leaking pipes and red fumes wafting through grates in the floor. That couldn't be healthy.

Tempest's rigid trot transformed into an easy saunter as her hips swayed back and forth. “Turning you to stone would have been a waste. Maybe instead I'll keep you as a pet and parade you through the streets of Canterlot on this leash. What would your friends think about that?”

One moment Tempest revealed a hint of tenderness, and then without warning she descended into jeering mockery. If Twilight kept prodding Tempest to examine her choices she might fly off the handle and do something really crazy. Maybe pretending to be a debased captive and waiting for an opening was the best strategy.

Tempest glanced back and caught Twilight staring at her rear end. “That isn't what I wanted to show you, Princess.” Wait, that wasn't right, Twilight was just lost in thought, certainly not admiring Tempest's shapely rump, but she was too flustered to say anything in her defense. Twilight's face flushed with heat while Tempest chuckled to herself. Pathetic. This couldn't get much more embarrassing.

The rotund mole-like creature named Grubber waddled around the corner, preoccupied with a half-eaten slice of cake. As soon as he saw Tempest he froze and hid the treat behind his back.

“I'll be interrogating the princess in my quarters,” Tempest said. “Don't interrupt me unless it's important.”

Grubber's eyes darted from side to side. “Uh, right—interrogating—of course.” He gave a quick salute and a “yes, ma'am” before shuffling back around the corner.

Tempest guided Twilight through a rusted door, shut it behind her, and latched it with a heavy iron bar.

The wood paneled room was an upgrade compared to the hallway, but its aggressively utilitarian aesthetic would drive Rarity to tears. The only hint of artistry was the bed wedged into the corner, which was covered in a navy blue comforter emboldened with the Storm King's insignia. Tempest pulled down the blanket, revealed a pine green sheet, and beckoned Twilight to sit next to her along the edge. What choice did she have? The mattress sank as she plopped down.

Tempest removed the silver cuff from her own hoof and placed it around a bar in the metal headboard and—SNAP!—locked it tight. The chain held just enough slack so Twilight could crawl a meager distance without choking.

The vibrations of distant machinery reverberated through the room, and occasionally the whole ship groaned after hitting a patch of turbulence. An oppressive tension filled the air as the reality of the situation sank in Twilight's stomach. Forget waiting for an opening, she had to get out sooner rather than later. “This ship sure is impressive. I'd love to see the uh, engine room.”

Tempest raised an eyebrow. “Good try, but no.”

Twilight scanned the room, looking for anything to buy time, and spotted a modest bookshelf near the end of the bed. “So, read any good books lately?”

The mattress rose as Tempest stood up. She strolled to the shelf and appraised her collection. “Most of these are formal treatises about war and grand strategy and aren't exactly gripping yarns—except this one.” She pulled out a worn tome with a blue cover and flipped through it. “The Old Spirit,” she said with a hushed reverence. “It's about a skilled warrior who travels far from home to fight in the war. When she returns, she can't find her family or any of her friends. She wanders all over searching for them, but the war destroyed her country and everything is different than how she remembers it. She's a stranger in her own land.”

“Wow, that sounds like some story. How does it end?”

Tempest snapped the book shut. “It doesn't. She keeps searching and never finds anything.”

Twilight slumped. “Oh.”

“She tried to be honorable and live the right way, and the world punished her for it. There's no miracles, no salvation, and no happy ending. It's perfect.” Tempest returned the book to the shelf and stood in front of Twilight. “As your gracious host I should offer you a drink, but we run a dry operation. How about water?”

Twilight's gaze fell to the gritty metal floor, and her voice was low and rebellious. “Not thirsty.”

Tempest looked down at Twilight with a detached amusement. “You know, I've been thinking, maybe parties aren't such a waste of time. We could have one, just you and me.”

“What would we celebrate?”

“Your capture, of course. Oh, and our budding friendship.”

“Friends don't chain each other to their beds.”

“No? Silly me.” Tempest strode to the opposite wall and peered through the lonely porthole. The sun brightened her face and the mocking edge in her voice melted away to a disarming sincerity. “But friends do talk to each other about their problems, right?”

Eager to help, even if the odds were poor, Twilight scooted down the edge of the bed. “Friends can't always solve your problems, but a sympathetic ear makes them more bearable.”

Tempest gestured to a bureau covered in maps and documents. “This is where I planned the assault on Canterlot, from the logistics down to the invasion routes. Every last little detail is right there.” She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I practiced my fighting routine for hours at a time, day after day, until my body ached and my hooves gave out, because I knew I would only get one shot. Have you ever thrown yourself into a project for so long that you neglected the rest of your life? The rest of your needs?”

This was a dangerous path. “Probably. Who hasn't, right?”

Tempest's armor shimmered as she stepped through the sunlight and faced her. “Like the Friendship Festival?”

“Uh, well, not exactly.” Twilight forced a smile.

“Sorry for ruining your party, by the way. I bet it was a barrel of laughs.” Tempest stepped closer, much too close, and Twilight fell backward onto the bed. “The other ponies live such carefree lives while you're always battling to protect them. That must be exhausting.” Tempest climbed onto the bed and straddled her between powerful thighs. The mattress creaked under their combined weight, and the cold metal suit pressed against her stomach. “I've had to fight and scrap for everything I've ever had. You wouldn't believe the things I've done out there to survive.”

Twilight lay helpless as Tempest crawled closer and closer. Those turquoise eyes stared straight through her.

“And now that I'm on top it's time to take what's mine.”

Warm desire bloomed between Twilight's legs and rippled up her body. No, not here, not like this. If Tempest found out—she couldn't. Twilight struggled to drown it out, to think of anything else, but she couldn't focus while she felt so small and weak between Tempest's sturdy thighs.

Tempest leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You're going to do exactly what I say. Understand?”

Twilight whimpered and gave a meek nod.

Tempest chuckled. “Don't be afraid, Princess. You're going to learn a lot about yourself today.”

Tempest rolled off to the side and pointed at the headboard. “Lay there and make yourself comfortable.” Twilight blinked, scared to move, scared to make a mistake, scared to reveal her shameful urges. Tempest dragged her up the bed by the shoulders and propped her against the pile of pillows. “Don't move.”

Maybe she could do that.

Tempest departed the bed, then stretched and let out a long groan. “It gets really hot and sweaty under this armor, especially after a long day of chasing stubborn princesses.”

Tempest lifted the chest plate over her head and dropped it to the ground with a clang. She peeled away her pauldrons and kicked off her iron shoes into a growing pile of metal. The way Tempest squeezed out of her armor brought to mind Fluttershy's hermit crabs leaving their shells. Clad only in her skintight suit, Tempest rubbed her thighs together, then leaned against the bed and met Twilight's gaze.

“Ah, feels better already. What do you think?”

Twilight didn't want to stare. She stole a glance and then turned away, but found herself irresistibly drawn back to the curve hugging fabric. “Your outfit looks uh, comfortable. For combat, that is. Very efficient.”

Tempest pulled the suit's neckline down her body, stepped through the expanding gap, wiggled her butt to free herself, and dropped the dark garment to the floor. Twilight raised her hoof and muffled a gasp. Bruises and blemishes marred Tempest's torso, and a terrible scar forked down her right side like a lightning bolt.

“Victory has a price, Princess. Never forget that.”

A rough and tumble life had sculpted Tempest's figure into a spellbinding physique. The combination of soft curves and rippling muscles in her chest and shoulders robbed Twilight of rational thought and made her feel jittery all over. The tension in Tempest's long legs and sturdy neck revealed how she performed such dazzling feats of agility, not to mention how she moved Twilight with barely any effort.

Tempest clambered into bed, crawled between Twilight and the wooden wall, and propped herself up on an elbow. Twilight pressed her legs together and stared at the ceiling—a tapestry of gray metal crisscrossed with welded seams. Tempest's tail brushed along Twilight's leg and tickled her. “Look at me, Princess.”

Twilight blinked. Tempest's dark body sloped back to wide hips and shapely thighs. Multi-colored fireworks adorned her flank. “Um, nice cutie mark.”

“Come on, Princess, just admit you like looking at my butt.”

Gawking at Tempest's body would only invite further humiliation, but Twilight couldn't stand to meet her eyes either. Running out of options, Twilight fixated on the ruined stump atop her forehead.

“I don't like ponies staring at my horn.”

Twilight snapped her gaze to the bed.

“No worries. You can look wherever you want.” Tempest lowered her head and allowed Twilight to peer over the crater's jagged rim into a hollow that went deeper than expected.

Twilight's forehead throbbed with sympathy pain. “Does it hurt?”

“Only when I use it.”

“I'm so sorry, about your horn, about everything. I can't imagine what you've been through.”

A single spark jumped from Tempest's horn. “I don't want your pity, Princess. I want your surrender.”

Twilight lifted the chain. “But I'm your prisoner. I've already surrendered.”

Tempest flashed a devious smile. “Not yet you haven't.”