Better

by Unbridled

Rating: teen
Tags: Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Princess Cadance, Romance, Sex
Length: 2577

Always the perfect little goody four-shoes, Cadence lets go... just this once.

The tiara upon Princess Cadence's head is heavier than it looks. Burdens and expectations rest inside each little gemstone, but she's carried them all her life with ease. Everypony agrees that she is the epitome of goodness: she's always helped those in need and never spoken ill of another pony. She's never even sworn.

So nopony would blame her for being a teensy bit naughty on her bachelorette party.

Published 2018-09-13 19:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2018-09-13 19:30:01 UTC

Than I Know Myself

"Make way for the bride-to-be!" Lyra singsongs as her magic throws open the door to the third bar we'd been to that night.

My cheeks feel hot as all eyes turn on us. Even though I'm just supposed to be Cadence Everyday Normalpony, all ponies see when they look our way is Princess Cadence. Bartenders give me special attention, stallions avert their eyes respectfully, and nopony asks to dance with me.

"Come on, Cady!" Twinkleshine pushes on my rump to force me through the threshold from outside and into the bar.

I can feel the weight of all the staring as my bridesmares guide me to where Lyra is already placing an order. I'm used to the attention, of course. I've been the center of attention all my life. However, they're usually looking at Princess Perfect Goody Four-shoes. Tonight, they see Princess Perfect Holy Crap Is She Drunk? and the answer is no. I'm just tipsy.

Kind of a lot tipsy, so maybe a little drunk, actually.

Well, regardless of whether I'm drunk or tipsy or both, I'm Not-Princess Cadence Normalpony Getsdrunk Hasfun. It says so on my face, which is still hot.

"Here we go!" Lyra exclaims as she levitates a salt shaker and our left hooves, dousing them in several shakes of salt. "It's time for tequila shots!"

Twinkleshine squeals, Minuette grins, and I try to lick my hoof but Lyra stops me, laughing.

"Slow down, silly filly. First salt, then tequila—" A little glass is floated over to me. "—then lime!" A lime wedge hovers just beside the glass.

I squint at it all. "This sounds like work. I thought we were here to have fun?"

Minuette snorts a laugh. "Trust me, you'll be having tons of fun after a few of these!"

I was skeptical, but my bridesmares hadn't led me astray so far. I'd really liked the strawberry daiquiris from the first bar and the mojitos from the second. So, together, we count down and I follow the instructions given.

Salt, tequila, lime...

And after my third tequila shot, I discover I love them. Tequila shots, that is. Not my bridesmares. Except, no, I love them, too!

"I love everypony!" somepony squeals. Everypony laughs, looking my way.

Oh, because that's me. I'm squealing, in the middle of the dance floor, by myself. Well, there are other ponies around, and they're dancing, too, but they're all at a respectable distance. They're always at a respectable distance.

Why won't anypony dance with me?

Before my high can crash into a low, I notice my bridesmares off to the side, whispering among themselves. Are we going to another bar? Again?

Twinkleshine glances my way and a grin spreads across her face as she waves a hoof to gesture me over.

"Okay, Cady, we have a surprise for you," Lyra says when I'm close enough to hear them over the music. "We've known you all our lives, and we know that there isn't a pony in Equestria who's gooder than you."

I giggle. "Gooder."

Minuette and Twinkleshine grab my forehooves and start to lead me in the direction Lyra walks. Along the back wall are red velvet curtains, some of them parted to show empty booths and some of them closed.

"But what nopony knows, nopony can hold against you, right?" Minuette winks.

I nod, even though I'm not totally sure what they're talking about. Things only get more confusing when they deposit me on a plush couch, giggle, and close the curtains so I'm all by myself.

The music and noise of the bar is dulled but still present. I'm sure the dance floor is filled up now that my invisible Princess Personal Space bubble isn't there, keeping them all away...

I droop, slowly, until I'm lying on my side. "This surprise... It..." Oh, I can't say it. My friends wanted me, for some reason, to sit alone in a curtained-off space. I can't say that it—"It sucks."

A small shiver runs down my spine. That wasn't nice to say, and I'm torn between feeling naughty and guilty.

"Oh," a voice purrs in my ear like the slide of a cat's tongue over silk. "That's a shame. I was rather hoping you'd like this."

The shiver runs back up my spine, more pronounced, and I jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. I can barely get out a single syllable before my mouth snaps shut.

A mare is standing there, all long legs and long lashes, full lips and full hips. Her gown is made out of a glittering material that's black, but green where the light hits it.

She's gorgeous.

"Who are you?" I ask, my throat dry, my mind suddenly feeling much clearer.

She gives a small shimmy of her shoulders and her tail lashes behind her. "Your surprise."

"Oh." I glance at the closed curtains, then back at her. I feel small and warm under the weight of her heavy-lidded stare.

Nopony's ever stared at me like this before.

Like I'm special, but not because I'm Princess Cadence Specialpony. Because I'm... what? What would put fire in those beautiful green eyes?

"Um." Words are hard, but I force them out. "I, um. I'm sorry. I think you have the wrong pony?"

Her tongue darts out over her bottom lip before she sucks it in and oh, the flash of her perfectly white teeth is strangely sensual in a way I'd never imagined. "Trust me, beautiful, I don't."

Shining has called me beautiful for a long time, since we started dating in high school. But it's never sounded like this before.

I sit upright and try to assume my proper, regal princess posture. “Is this—“

“A private show,” the mare supplies as she places one hoof on the couch and pushes herself up to loom over me. She smells of... licorice.

Something coils low in my gut and it’s all I can do not to lean closer and breathe in more of her scent. “What does that mean?”

Her other forehoof lands on my chest and she pushes me back down. I land with an undignified squeak.

“It means your friends want you to have a good time, beautiful.”

The way the word rolls off her tongue sends a tingling sensation through my legs. “Oh.”

She withdraws and climbs up onto the round coffee table I hadn’t noticed before. Each movement is like a wisp of smoke from a candle, fluid and gliding through the air.

Her eyes never leave mine as she rises up onto her haunches and starts to slide one strap down her shoulder. “So, beautiful, your friends said you’re a bride-to-be.”

I nod. It’s all I can do. The entire rest of my focus is on that glittering strap as it makes its way down her foreleg. Undressing really shouldn’t be so provocative, since most ponies don’t even wear clothes at all.

And yet, I’m thoroughly entranced.

A flash of white catches my eye and I glance up to see her smirking. I realize, then, that a question was asked.

“Um, yes.” I clear my throat to try to get it to be less squeaky. “Yes. I’m to be married in three weeks.”

I look back away from her curled lips to see she left the strap halfway down and is working on the other to match it. Her shoulders are exposed, now, as is the curve of her chest.

“Who is the lucky mare?” she asks, leaning back and baring more of the fluff that sits at the base of her neck.

“Mare?” I blink and shake my head just enough to get the gesture across but without losing sight of her. “No, I, um.” I blink again and my breath returns to me all at once. “I’m sorry, but surely you know who I am?”

The mare snickers. It causes her eyes to crinkle. When mine do that, Shining kisses them. I can actually imagine myself doing the same to her.

“Does it matter who you are outside this space?” She spreads her hind legs, which slip out of the thigh-high slits on the side of her dress. “Here, you are a beautiful mare who is going to help me with my stockings.”

My heart jumps. I’m not a princess here? My eyes dart to the curtains, which are made of a thick fabric. If somepony tried to peek in, there would be a noticeable rustle.

This is insane. What am I doing! I’m going to be married soon to a stallion I’ve loved almost all my life. I’m a princess, for goodness sake! I don’t...

Hold onto stockings with my magic...

And start to...

Tug them... down...

A spark of green interrupts my magic and I jolt in surprise.

“Ah, ah.” The mare clicks her tongue. “No cheating.”

I blink at her, and then start to flush. Oh.

Slowly, I reach out a hoof that is, to my further embarrassment, trembling. Using my magic was one thing, but this—this is intimate. I can feel the heat of her body, the soft silky coat of white ivory. I grip the fishnet stocking and start to slide it down her thigh.

The quiet rasp of fabric against fur is the only sound between us other than my heart pounding in my ears. Again, I ask myself: What am I doing?

And most of all, why am I enjoying it?

"Such a gentle touch," the mare says, and I realize something with a start.

My hoof stills and my eyes meet hers. "What's your name?"

One brow arches before her lips curl into a wicked smile. "You may call me Classy."

I know it's not her real name, and she knows I know. But I breathe out the word as if it's the last thing I ever say. "Classy."

"And you may finish what you started." Her hind hoof wiggles a little to draw my attention back to it.

The command thrills me in an unexpected way. Equally unexpected is how happy I am to obey. I drop the stocking to the floor and start on the next, my eyes locked with every inch that's revealed.

It shouldn't be sexy.

And yet it's the sexiest thing I've ever witnessed, ever been a part of. I want to touch her. Can I touch her? I raise my head and meet her gaze, which seems to almost literally smolder with desire. I think I can touch her.

Tentatively, I reach my hoof back out and stroke the soft coat along her inner thigh, eye contact not breaking for a second. I can see her pupils dilate and her lower lip catch between her teeth, and oh is it exciting to cause somepony as gorgeous as her to react that way.

"So," she says in a low, husky voice, "you're not marrying a mare. A stallion, then."

My hoof freezes. "Shining."

She places her hoof over mine and slides it just a little higher up her leg. "Tell me about him."

Why does she want to know this? I don't want to think about him when I'm cheating on him. Or does it not count because it's a bachelorette party? If he has this experience with somepony else during his bachelor party... how would I feel?

"We've been together since high school," I explain, unable to stop the words. She wants to know them, and I want to give her everything and anything she wants. "Everything between us is... perfect. It's always been perfect."

I tell her about how sweet and considerate he is. How well he bears the responsibility, how loved he is by everypony. That he will be a perfect Prince Consort. That I couldn't have asked for anypony better.

And she listens to every word with rapt attention, moaning softly each time my hoof dared to stroke higher.

"You poor thing," she says, and all my thoughts screech to a halt.

"What?" I look up at her again. "What do you mean?"

Classy holds my hooves and tugs me up onto the table with her, our chests pressed together, her legs on either side of me. She's so warm and soft that I shiver with delight.

"You've always had to be such a good little filly, haven't you? Your perfect life, your perfect coltfriend." She trails her muzzle along the side of my neck, and I unconsciously incline my head to give her more access. "Special normally costs extra, but if tonight is to be your last night of freedom, then..."

She bites down where my neck meets my shoulder and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out in surprise, pain, and—to my slight dismay—pleasure.

"... let me make it special for you."

And, oh, she does.

Classy does things that I've never heard of, makes me feel things that I've never felt. Slow and sensual at first, she builds up a fire within me that breaks free all at once when she—

Oh, when she—

There aren't words for it. Fireworks against a sunny sky, quiet but no less brilliant, so hot that it melts ice cream. I'm the ice cream, and she's, well, she's everything.

Feeling slowly returns to my limbs and I struggle to blink my eyes open.

Holy Tartarus.

I’ve never felt this amazing in my life. My body is still roiling with waves of pleasure, and I'm pretty sure I've just been lying there, panting and gasping, for at least ten minutes. This is what afterglow feels like?

And then I want to cry, just a little, because as soon as I leave this little room, I have to go back to being Princess Cadence Perfectpony.

I don’t want to.

“Oh, beautiful, don’t make such a sad face.” Her hoof ghosts down the side of said sad face in a faint caress.

I want to... keep her, somehow. She can be my mistress. That would be okay, wouldn’t it? Mistress Classy. It sounds perfect.

But how will I explain it to Shining?

... There’s only one way he’d understand.

“Sleep with my husband. Fiancé. My Shining,” I babble, hoping I sound less incoherent than I do to me. "Then we can—you and he and I—"

Classy's hoof presses to my lips. "Shh, beautiful." The hoof moves to caress my cheek. "All in due time."

It sounds like she has a plan. I like that. I close my eyes and relish in her touch, only a little ashamed of the images running through my head of what it'd be like to be between them. His strong muscles, her lithe form...

"I think I know you, now," she says, her voice falling to a husky whisper. "I know every sweet sound you make."

As her hoof trails down my neck, following my throbbing pulse, I swallow in anticipation.

"Every lovely face you make."

Her hoof withdraws, and a whine escapes my throat.

"In fact," she continues, her voice starting to—change? It's raspier, now. "I would dare to say that I know you..."

The rasp slides into something more higher pitched, and I open my eyes to see a flash of green fire before I'm looking at my own face. There's a darkness in her—my?—eyes that sends a sharp stab of fear through my chest.

I feel, suddenly, like a fly in a spider's web. Trapped. Small. Hunted.

"... as if I were you."