Breaking the Belle

II: Pillow Thoughts

Sweetie laid in bed, her wide eyes staring out into the blackness of the duvet that shielded her. Tucked up safe and secure in the fetal position, her brain was on fire, thoughts engulfing her mind. What had happened that afternoon? Why had Rarity done the things she’d done? Was that even Rarity, brandishing such a cruel device? And what did that outfit mean? Sweetie had thought little of it when she pulled it on - she’d appreciated the wondrous craftsmanship, of course, such care and attention was to be expected of Rarity’s work after all - but it was just another outfit to Sweetie’s eye - no different to any other showy ensemble. Why had this one been the catalyst for Rarity to engage in such horrid behavior? And why had it felt as good as it had? She could remember Rarity mentioning the outfit being a surprise birthday gift for her, as well as it being a major part of another birthday surprise on the day itself... had she really ruined her birthday surprise that badly? And would it still be going ahead?

The look on Rarity’s face as she came in the door still made Sweetie Belle shiver. That look of pure, unadulterated disgust, and - perhaps worst of all - the way it had slowly morphed into one of quiet confidence and composure. The flustered filly rolled back and forth as images and sensations flashed through her head. Thoughts of the latex gripping her skin as she squirmed, tugging this way and that at the hairs in her coat. The dull wood of the paddle as it brushed across her flanks, the sharp stinging it left as it smacked against her. Perhaps most vivid of all, that cruel little vibrator that had been unceremoniously pushed into her leotard, pressed against her clitoris. Those teasing vibrations, those relentless vibrations.

Sure, Sweetie had played with herself once or twice - boisterous Scootaloo’s teasings at school had driven her to explore - but she was still hugely inexperienced sexually. So to go from minimal touch, straight to paddlings and vibrators had all been incredibly intense for her. She’d never made herself cum before - never quite confident enough to go that extra step and send herself overboard - but that afternoon she’d been pushed as close to the edge as she’d ever been.

But it hadn’t happened. Rarity had teased her and pleasured her, but deliberately cut the games short, denying Sweetie Belle the release her body wanted, even if her mind didn’t. But the filly’s thoughts kept gravitating back to that unblinking, stoic expression, almost sadistic in its composure as Rarity watched her little sister’s body quiver under her expert influence.

Tossing and turning back and forth, Sweetie eventually clamped her eyes shut, forcing herself to try and sleep. She had school in the morning, and waking up exhausted would do her no good. She had to sleep, regardless of how active her brain was.

* * * * *

BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
BEE-

Sweetie smacked her hoof down on the top of her alarm with a start. The shrill sound had long been one that Sweetie loathed - a piercing siren that was certain to destroy her chances of a peaceful morning. Rarity had always known that Sweetie didn’t like the alarm. That’s why she’d normally be in five minutes early, ready to turn it off herself and wake Sweetie with soft words and the aroma of breakfast, served in bed. The alarm was only set in case Rarity ever overslept. And Rarity never overslept - she was always busy. Perhaps she was just running a little behind schedule? Or perhaps she was taking an especially long time making a big breakfast, as apologies for her bizarre behavior the previous day.

After ten more minutes passed, however, Sweetie was becoming doubtful of that option. Finally sitting up again, she slid out of bed, groggily drawing her curtains open in her albeit weak magical grasp. As warm morning light flooded the room, Sweetie noticed the note that had been slipped under her door.

Quizzically she picked up the note, reading the carefully written message in Rarity’s over-elaborate penmanship. It simply said

Your Sister is tired. Make her breakfast. Toast and tea.

...oh.

Sweetie rummaged through the well-kept cupboards of the kitchen, finding the bread, plates, a filly-safe knife and a pot of posh Canterlot jelly from the fridge. She wasn’t one for cooking all that often, but she certainly wasn’t as terrible as perhaps she once was. With two plates of toast made, and a fully-brimmed cup of tea, Sweetie began to climb the stairs again to Rarity’s room, wincing a little as tea carelessly slopped from the cup onto the floor. That should wipe out.

Rarity’s room.

Pushing the door open with a free hoof, Sweetie looked to the bed where she expected to see her sister sleeping. Instead, Rarity was stood by the window, looking out onto the street, quiet at this time of morning before any stores had opened.

“H-heya Sis! I’m sorry that you’re so tired, though it’s a little strange - you’re normally raring to go of a morning… Anyway, here’s your tea and toast!”

With that, Sweetie carefully placed the tray she’d been carrying down on the bed, before lifting the tea-cup onto the bedside table. As Rarity turned from the window, striding towards the bed, Sweetie hopped up on top, lifting one of her pieces of toast to her mouth.

“Off the bed Sweetie.”

“What?”

“I said, off the bed. You’re going to get crumbs everywhere, and I don’t want a mess.”

Sweetie raised an eyebrow as Rarity maneuvered herself back under her sheets, lifting her plate onto her lap - all the while glancing Sweetie Belle a judgmental look.

“But, you’re sitting in bed anyway! You’re going to get crumbs everywhere too!”

Rarity’s lip twitched at her sister’s standoffish attitude.

“You’ve been told once. Get off my bed. You’re perfectly entitled to sit in here with your sister, but you need to sit on the floor.”

“Sweet Celestia you can be stubborn…” Sweetie scoffed to herself under her breath, sliding down off the edge of the bed, sitting at its end. The two sat eating their toast, the only sounds between them being the crunching of eating, and the singsong of birds outside the open window.

As the last of the toast vanished, Sweetie dropped her plate down on the tray, taking a moment to collect herself. Glancing up at the clock, she noticed the time.

“Oh horse apples, I’m going to be late for school! Rarity I need to go!”

She leapt up, bolting towards the door, before suddenly feeling herself come to an abrupt stop. Rarity’s magic held her in place, the tray and dirty plates floating forward into her vision.

“Wash these up. If you do it sharpish and jog, you can still get to school on time.”

Rolling her eyes, Sweetie took the stacked tray in her grip, walking briskly down the stairs to the kitchen. Pausing in front of the sink, she glanced at the clock again. She didn’t have time. Dumping the plates in the sink, she grabbed her saddlebag from the lounge, bolting for the door.

Rarity listened from her room as the front door slammed shut. She already knew Sweetie hadn’t done the dishes. Typical ungrateful foals. Rarity had a lot of work to do.