Back when I was a little filly, my nanny used to read me all kinds of fairytales. I grew up soaked in tales of brave mares in shining armor, greed dragons, sacred quests, and elegant princes to be rescued by their soulmates.
My dreams begun to crack when I came to the age of fourteen and was sent to the academia for education in the natural sciences and training in the martial arts, without any stallions in miles and the budding desires of my body it didn’t take long for me to discover that mares were incredibly pleasurable company.
This wasn’t much of a problem, of course. Mares loving mares were a common sight along the Empire and I can safely bet my horn that no lady that has ever attended the Imperial Academy haven’t at least once enjoyed the company of other mare.
The problem came because I needed to produce a legitimate heir and that meant marrying a stallion of noble birth.
At eighteen I was introduced to high society in a garish debut ball, the purpose hadn’t been only to show me off as some newly minted rapier, but to formally start my courtship with the young lord Regal Inkwell so that we could be exchanging votes by the winter.
The arrangement wasn’t really unusual in unicorn society, my own mother had met my father only three times before the day of their wedding and she made a point of reminding me, as often as possible, that a mare must love a stallion and marry a stallion, but only the silly ones would expect them to be the same stallion. As it stood, Duchess Diamond and her husband were rarely seen together in public or in private, and to the best of my knowledge that had suited them both just fine.
My soon-to-be husband at least proved himself to be of sharp mind and outgoing disposition, not like so many of the most boresome stallions that usually frequent these balls that are meek, dull, and only care about the ability to retain an impeccable household.
When we were in public, he would be a perfect husband, if anything he was a bit too emboldened. He would talk to almost everyone in court and seemed wit enough to be able to hold a conversation for a whole night, sometimes he would get in arguments and mischief with other stallions and even some mares, but he was smart enough to know who he could annoy and how to do it in a way that wouldn’t cause us much harm in the Grand Game.
Sometimes it seemed he would get himself in trouble just for the fun of it.
When we were at our manor, things were… polite. Yes, that’s a good way of putting it.
For a long time, we kept a respectful distance. We would exchange small talk and even discuss some of our actions to plan ahead, but most of the time we were closer to the servants then to each other. That wasn’t at all unusual, our lives were pleasurable, even if a bit boring by the standards of the royalty. Regal Inkwell was a fine intellectual partner and together we spent many hours simply discussing and talking, probably more than most other couples in the Empire.
Then came the zebras and everything changed in our small world.
The young butler Fluffy Pillow opened the door. He didn’t seem the least bit fazed by my ripped dress and the blood stains, and simply welcomed me, taking my hunting cape. I handed the coat and my broken sword to him, pleased to finally arrive home after such a long night, longing for a measure of civility and comfort.
“Shall I inform the Lord of your arrival?” he asked. I simply nodded, too tired after another night on the woods, my muscles begging for a good massage and a warm bath… Maybe I could invite Jade Star for some hot tea by the morning.
“Very well, then,” Fluffy Pillow told me. “I’ll have a bath ready and inform Lord Inkwell at once of your arrival.”
All the torments of hell and damnation can be solved with a hot, long, and relaxing soak in a bathtub. After a night crawling through the catacombs and fighting with Wolframiuns this was a moment of civility and relaxation.
Most stallions, and even some mares, took these small pleasures as granted. Just another part of their days, barely a moment of respite before another party, but I’m first and foremost a knightess of the Empire. My duty is not simply to enjoy the material comforts allowed to my position, but to use my skills to hunt what hides in the dark and purge the nightmares that prey on the innocent.
After spending a whole night dragging myself trough the ruins that lay under our great city, to lay down in a bathtub and simply soak in warm water makes one remember what civilization really means.
The water washes away the dirty, but also the makeup, exposes the multitude of scars I gained along the years, each a small trophy.
Thoughts of fluffy blankets and naked mares were interrupted, however, by Regal Inkwell coming inside the bathroom.
I extended my hoof and he accepted it graciously, levitating a glass file and ever so gently polishing my tired hooves.
“You spoil me like this, Regal,” I said sweetly. He smiled at me, the quirking of those wonderfully attractive lips, and kissed my hoof.
“Truly,” he said, “the pleasure is mine, Lady Diamond.”
He had a jaunty kind of smile, one that usually signaled we were about to embark into some delicious mischief. He leaned against the wall and crossed his hooves over his chest.
“I must say we have pretty interesting lives these days,” he said without looking at me. The corners of his lips quirked into a devious smile, his magic reached for my body, prickled my tender flesh.
“A great many ponies have passed through this manor,” I admitted, laying back on the bathtub and allowing him to continue. “Poets, painters, dancers, Lords and Ladies, even zebras.”
“Do you remember,” Inkwell began, his magic focusing on my more sensitive places. “Senator Kahina?” he asked, a slight pink rose in his cheeks as my magic retributed the favor.
“Patently debauched,” I replied. “And Lady Lucky Cake?”
“Ah,” he stifled a smile, his magic stroked me, “I still remember the taste of her cakes. It’s a shame we couldn’t satisfy her affections for Diamond Dogs.”
“The gypsies?”
“I’ll not forget the sensation of those phoenix feathers,” he was smiling broadly now, the budge in his pants was evident. “Those were six nights of musical, wicked frivolity.”
“And the,” blood rushed to my cheeks, the pressure of his magic against my swollen clitoris was a constant torment. “The dungeon…”
“However,” he paused and ceased his magic. “We have yet certain duties, intimate duties to attend.” With a single wink, he offered me a hoof to help me out of the bathtub.
“Are you sure?” I asked, not wishing to pressure him.
With a nod he helped me out of the bathtub and led me through the main parlor and down a hallway, where enormous, gold-framed portraits glared at me judiciously, the weight of seven generations over my shoulders.
We walked past those and into our private room, here the walls had no noble portraits, but paintings of half naked mares seeking refuge with deers in the woods, the excesses of wines, fruits, and lust.
“Some of those seem new,” I said as we walked by them.
“They were a gift,” he reassures me quickly.
I held his gaze for a moment.
“That I paid money for,” he confessed. “But they will rise in valor! They were a goo investment, ok!”
I slid the door open for him, and we walked into the Mistress Room. Huge picture windows framed the far wall, offering a distant glimpse of the apple orchards, and dark wood covered most of the floor.
It marveled me how Regal had managed to make it look so luxurious, the stallion definitely had a sense of style. Everything from the beautiful carpet to the priceless paintings had been choose by him with great care. What was more amazing tough, was that he had managed to make it warm and inviting.
On the left side was my personal closet, inside was a grand display of swords collected from all over the Empire and beyond. Saber, foil, and, epee – all in varying heights and forged by individual craftsmen from all over the empire.
“You’re not like most stallions,” I teased, while a flick of my magic lighted the fireplace on the right, the flame bathing the room in dim light.
He struggled for a moment between indignation and gratefulness at the compliment. Stallions could be so fun to play with.
“Regal,” I said slowly, taking graceful steps towards him even as my magic stripped him of his cape and doublet. “I know we will never be lovers, so…” I paused, weighing words and thoughts.
"Kiss me, Clearie," he whispered, reaching for me, his lips brushing my neck, his eyes blazing with need. The front of his pants parted beneath a touch of my magic, the hard, generous width of his erection rising from the material, flushed and desperate.
His eyes widened as I pushed him to the bed, pressing him down with my own body. I held his head with a hoof, the other holding both of his upper hooves above his head as I kissed his neck and mouth. Furious, hungry, desperate, our mouths mated, tongues twining.
I was smart enough to know that it went beyond just lust, this was our duty as a married couple of noble lineage, but it was no reason not to enjoy it. He whimpered beneath me, as my hooves and magic explored his body, unleashing an onslaught of heated yearning and awakening of sensations, his body clenching, tightening, as his magic flared chaotically and his tongue pressed lustfully into my mouth. His lips closed on it, his mouth drawing on the swollen flesh as he pushed my thighs apart. I slid upward, holding him steady as I positioned my plump pussy lips over his muzzle.
The first swipe of his tongue through the sensitive slit of my cunt had me biting my lips. He licked at me with delight, lapping at the juices spilling from my vagina as he groaned against my flesh. It was an agonizing pleasure that had me writhing above him, twisting, bucking against his mouth as he circled my clit, only to move lower to lap at me again. He nibbled at the sensitive lips, parted them, and then suddenly, astonishingly, drove his tongue inside me. My horn exploded in a firestorm of blazing pleasure as his tongue fucked inside of me with hard, blistering strokes. My muscles clenched, shuddered, and more of my liquids spilled to his greedy lips. And still, it wasn't enough.
“You’re so hot,” he whispered when I raised my body momentarily from his muzzle.
I raised my hips and began to work his cock inside of me. Short, fierce thrusts that opened, stretched, had me biting my lips as that erotic sensation built inside of me.
He groaned roughly as the last inches slid in, seating him fully inside of me, my hips resting over his body. Every small movement sending impulses of exquisite pleasure reverberating through our bodies. I could feel him, so thick and hard, wedged inside of me.
His whispered moans are delightful, a pleasure in itself as I moved slowly, his cock inside the tight grip of my pussy. My pussy flexed as he stared up at me, the eroticism of watching his face flush, his eyes glitter with sexual hunger, filled me like a surge of arcane energy. His hips jerked, driving him deeper as my back arched, his hooves enlacing my hips, inviting me to ride him.
A slow, sexy smile shaped his lips as I pulled up several inches then thrust in down. Nerve endings caught fire, my womb convulsed and a shiver of imminent pleasure shuddered through my body. I could feel it, just out of reach.
He writhed beneath me, the pleasure whipping through him like an impending firestorm. “More,” he gasped.
His hooves tugged at my hips as I rode him with depraved intent, each thrust sent me higher into pleasure, the head of his erection stroking my sensitive flesh, sending building waves of sensation tearing through me.
It was then that he held me strongly, holding my hips down. Barely a word escaped my mouth as his head rose, his hooves holding me tightly against his body.
His lips touched mine with deep, passionate kisses as his tongue slipped and slid against mine. Regal moaned as the hefty, swollen sensation of his hard flesh was constricted by my tender, warm flesh.
He gently forced me against my back, one hoof holding my legs as he took control, using his weight to hold me against the bed, moving his hips against mine.
I whispered a protest even as adrenaline pumped through my body; my greatest weakness was that swelling exhilaration. I had seen zebras being taken like that, submitting to males in some depraved inversion.
These thoughts echoed in my mind, filled me with lust and left a longing to experiment more.
His hips bunched as he began slowly, too damned slowly for the needs spreading through my body, pumping inside me just enough to send spikes of pleasure crashing through my body, but not enough for orgasm.
My head thrashed against the mattress as I fought the potent, irresistible call of my own body, and the primitive needs hammering at my brain.
He drove inside me hard, paused, his cock throbbing heavily inside the sensitive clasp of my pussy, the flaring head filling my womb, stretching it.
He drove inside me again. Paused. His eyes watched me, glittering wildly, hunger and demand tightening every line of his expression.
My hips jerked at the next hard thrust, my legs wrapped around his hips. My mouth covered his shoulder, my teeth raking over it, then my tongue, a second before I bit him.
A manly shout of satisfaction filled the room as he began to move. His hips began to thrust, driving his cock deep and hard inside me as I tasted blood. My tongue, rasping and filled with the unique, metallic taste, began to lap at the wound, as the final straw to drive me past reason. My orgasm erupted, my pussy tightening on his driving cock, tearing scream out of me.
His head buried at my neck as he stroked powerfully, lengthening, driving my orgasm higher until my magic flared and was extinguished. There were only me and him. Together, melting, blending, orgasm and satisfaction weaved for the royal duty accomplished.
"So…" I took a long breath, putting one hoof over his back. “Where did you learnt that zebra stuff?”
He groaned something incomprehensible, too tired for coherent words and I giggled. With a protective hoof resting on his back, darkness closed around us.