Author's Note

Alright, folks, this was what (I'm sure) most of you were waiting for. This chapter does have sex after the horizontal rule. Well, tactile sex, anyways. Tags include consensual mind control, breastplay, lactation kink...and I think that's it. Enjoy!

4. Mixing In

“Miss Silk?”

“Miss Fine?”

“Fine Silk? Where are you?”

Logic would’ve dictated that upon being faced with a threat like an angry Fine Silk, Baklava should have taken off running into the desert and taken her chances with the heat or the curse killing her quicker. No, instead, she was wandering through the darkened rows of the library, looking around columns, specifically in the areas where there were a lot of shadows. That...vanishing trick, for lack of a better term, probably meant that the paint unicorn would be someplace with less light, right? The chestnut called into the library, but her only answers were her echoing voice and hoofsteps, and the slight whistle of a cold wind.

The sound of only her own hoofsteps was quickly getting to Baklava, and there were so many thoughts running through her head. “Miss Silk?” she called out, but not as loudly this time. “If you can hear me… things are beginning to make more sense. About why Sweet Oasis was destroyed, I mean.”

Nobody spoke in response. Was it just Baklava, though, or did the cold wind die down a touch? No, it was true. The faintest whistling had subsided, and the shadows seemed to concentrate around her, exuding an odd yet pleasant warmth. Was Fine Silk listening, wherever she was?

“If...if Princess Luna was the one to build the walls, then maybe...maybe Princess Celestia didn’t know how to perform the same spell to renew the walls’ magic?” Baklava called out into the shadows, hoping that the message would get across.

Somewhere on another floor, but relatively close by, came the unmistakable sound of multiple books suddenly tumbling off of a shelf. Given that there were only two living ponies in the structurally sound library, it was pretty safe to assume that Fine Silk was up there and listening. Baklava immediately found a small ladder to take her up to the next floor, and she clambered up swiftly yet safely.

True enough, a pile of books lay in a heap on the floor just above where Baklava had been previously standing. As she stepped closer, the whole collection seemed to be about curses and how they were cast. “Miss Silk?” she called again, but the shadows had lightened up a touch again, leaving her alone with only her swirling thoughts. If Fine Silk had blasted these books off of the shelf, though, so soon after Baklava had spoken, then she was probably listening.

Best to give it another shot. “Brightspear said that...mentioning the Princess to you might not be a good idea,” the chestnut unicorn called again, stooping to set the books back on their shelves (she had no hope of understanding their contents, really). “Or that I should be careful when doing so. I guess that means that you don’t like her very much?”

In a different aisle, there was another clatter of books and a crack of stone. Racing to the area, Baklava just witnessed a flare of dark purple magic repairing the banister before disappearing again. The pile of books this time was larger, though still related to curses and cures. Fine Silk must be travelling through the whole library through the shadows (somehow), looking through books for a cure. There was nothing else that Baklava could do (nor that she wanted to do) except to follow the paint unicorn. At least she was safe at the mysterious pony’s side.

“Why did you save me?” Baklava called out as she moved to the banister that overlooked the main floor of the library. “I do not mean to sound like I am complaining, because I truly am grateful. I just want to know...why? I’m just one pony, nobody important.” Her stomach slowly clenched, suddenly anxious, but then it became so much worse. The deep red in her core was sputtering like an angry coal, growing into a small flame. The curse!

“No, no,” Baklava whimpered, gripping at her middle uselessly as Dune’s curse grew inside of her again, burning an angry red and sickly green, sending hot, foaming blood up her throat to make her cough. Red dripped from the banister, and her hand slid in the slick liquid, making her sprawl over the marble beam and threaten to fall all the way back down to the ground floor. At this height and angle, it was sure to be a fatal mistake. “Fine Silk?” she called out wetly, fear making her heart hammer at the same time as that horrible heat slammed into the nervous organ. Even to her ringing ears, Baklava’s voice sounded terribly small in the huge library.

Warm, dark arms wrapped under her arms suddenly and brought Baklava onto her side, pressing her too-hot cheek to the cool floor while purple eyes, which had regained their definition, looked down at her with fright. “I am so sorry,” Fine Silk whispered, and her voice no longer made the floor rumble underneath the dying unicorn. “I...I will do the treatment now, if you wish it. There’s no more time to find a cure.”

Bloody tears were streaming out of Baklava’s eyes as she looked up at the terror-stricken unicorn, matting up her dark brown fur. “Please,” she gasped hoarsely, weak from the sudden blood loss. She couldn’t feel her hooves anymore, but there was no fear in her mind; she was far too weak for that. “I don’t...I don’t want to die.”

A clear tear fell on her cheek from Fine Silk’s eyes, just barely diluting the blood. “Forgive me,” the other unicorn whispered, and her hand and eyes glowed purple as they connected with Baklava’s head, light consuming them both.

When her eyes flashed open next, Baklava wasn’t even all that concerned that she appeared to be under some sort of domed net of glowing lines, or that the backdrop of the library had faded away. It felt good and right to remain flat on her back, cushioned by some unknown material. Even the fact that she was without clothes didn’t bother her so much. Of much more interest was Fine Silk kneeling next to her, also divested of her nice dress and veil. Baklava, even now, was happy to admit that she thought the other unicorn was absolutely beautiful. The white and black of her coat seemed to be moving a little bit, undulating, though that could just have been from how Baklava’s vision was swimming.

“We’re in a...place between places,” Fine Silk explained before Baklava could ask, and she gently pressed down on her shoulders before the sick unicorn could stand. “Physically, we have not left the library, but we are not dead, either. I suppose that the best way to think of it is as a threshold to a crossroads.”

“We’re...more alive than not?” Baklava asked hoarsely. Though there was no longer a coppery taste in her throat, it still was painful to speak very much.

“That’s a good way to put it.” The paint pony sat on her knees and watched Baklava with a cautious expression. “The treatment I can use on you is...one of my own design. I’ve never tried it before as a cure, but the theory and practice behind it should be sound.”

News that should have panicked Baklava really didn’t bother her, and she tried to relax back into the cushiony material. “What will you do?”

“What do you know about ley lines?” Fine Silk asked carefully. “And it’s alright if you know nothing-”

“Some,” the sickly unicorn coughed. “Equus has them...and we have them. Not everyone has them...in the same place.”

The smallest smile flicked across Fine’s face, holding a little bit of pride. “You know more than most, then. A pony’s immune system is tied to their ley lines, and it is usually a direct relationship. When we are sick, our ley lines help boost our immune system. However, this curse that you were afflicted with is attacking your ley lines as well as your circulatory system, meaning that your body cannot fight back against it.” She took Baklava’s hand gently and ran two glowing fingers over her knuckles, easing some of the pain there.

“So...the treatment would be tied to my ley lines?”

“Precisely.” Slowly, Fine Silk took Baklava’s hand and placed it over the center of her upper chest lightly. “I would take a little bit of control over your ley lines, which should redirect the worst of the curse to me.”

“No!” Baklava rasped immediately, closing her hands into shaky fists. “You mustn’t! You barely know me, and...I know that you are long-lived, but this will kill you!” She couldn’t let this amazing pony take on such a burden for her-

Gentle lips pressed to the base of Baklava’s horn as she protested, cutting off her words and thoughts of protest. It wasn’t the first time that she’d been kissed by another mare (and this time was one of the most chaste), but something about it just...made her want to listen to Fine Silk.

The paint continued patiently. “Baklava, I have lived for centuries. I’ve tried to kill myself in just about every way that you can imagine, including cursing myself. I can take this burden, especially if it means giving you a life just as good as what you had before.”

Baklava clutched at Fine Silk’s chest, anxious and miserable again with the pain from the curse. “It won’t be the same without Poppy, or anyone else,” she whispered. “I’m sorry...I don’t mean to be a downer, and I don’t want to die, but...how do you know that I can be happy after this?”

At this, Fine Silk looked distinctly...shifty? Nervous? Certainly something that she wasn’t overly proud about, and her grip on Baklava’s hand slacked off a little. “I...taking control of your ley lines won’t be entirely consequence-free,” she whispered slowly. “My magic...it...does things to ley lines that it interacts with. It does things to the ponies. It impacts libido, improves mood, and has the subject shift a lot of their focus and feelings onto... me. Not completely, but you might think about me more often than not.”

Even with the horrible circumstances surrounding...well, all of this, all that Baklava could really think was, ‘Well, at least she’s kind and pretty, and not trying to keep me in the dark.’ A sudden question crossed her mind. “Will I...will I forget my family?” she asked in a shaky voice. The pain was beginning to build back up. “Will I stop loving them?”

“No!” Fine Silk replied immediately, so earnest that she couldn’t be anything but truthful, and she clutched at Baklava’s hand. Glowing fingers kneaded her knuckles. “I don’t know much about myself,” Fine continued, eyes darting from the floor to Baklava’s blue eyes, then back and forth again. “Why I don’t age, why I can’t die, or why my magic reaches out to ponies in need. What I do know is that anyone you’ve loved and cared for in the past, those thoughts and memories and emotions will stay the same.”

Even with the pain, the sorrow, the anxiety, Baklava could take solace in that revelation. “Any...any other ponies that you’ve…” She needed to ask this. “Other ponies haven’t forgotten?”

Fine Silk shook her head. “Never, my dear. And you won’t be left alone once the treatment is complete. You can come with me, if you would like, and I can help you resettle someplace.”

Many other ponies would’ve wanted more time to mull this proposed treatment over, especially with something so invasive, but Baklava was well aware that she did not have the luxury of time. “Will it hurt? The treatment, I mean.”

“I will make sure that it doesn’t hurt. It can be pleasurable, if you would like.”

“I would...please.” Baklava sighed, laying back flat and staring up at the glowing purple lines of the dome around them. It looked remarkably like a spider web, but she’d always found spiders to be rather cute (yes, even the venomous ones). “I’d like the treatment, Miss Silk.”

As soon as the last couple of words were out of her mouth, several long, purple things appeared out of the purple dome above. There were eight of them, thin and spindly, reaching out to the entire circumference of the dome, and Baklava couldn’t help but be anxious for a quick few seconds at the sight of the enormous spider legs.

“They won’t hurt you.” Fine Silk didn’t seem to be consciously making them appear, but she was looking at the magical constructs with a mild bemusement. “They’re just extensions of my magic and will. They’ll help with the charm that I’ll apply to your ley lines.”

One of the gigantic spider legs came just a little closer to the pair of unicorns. Baklava could now see that the construct was smooth, almost shell-like, and she unthinkingly reached out to touch it. The same aged aura that she’d felt only yesterday came to her fingers again, just as friendly as the newer, brighter magic that was definitely Fine Silk’s alone. It felt as if that old magic was saying that Baklava didn’t need to be afraid anymore, that it was here to help. The dark purple hue spread over her fingertips, then visibly stopped at her wrist while continuing to move up the veins in her arm.

The crimson curse inside of Baklava lashed out at the new attacker, but now, it didn’t hurt nearly as much. “It...ooh.” Anything that she was about to say was quickly forgotten as gentle, plush lips pressed against her cheek, making her skin tingle. She looked over at Fine Silk, whose body was outlined in both light and dark purple magic. Why didn’t her tongue want to work, so that she could tell this wonderful mare just how beautiful she looked?

Baklava’s other hand was still held to Fine Silk’s chest. With a sudden shove from the darker magic on her left against the curse, red sparks appeared out of her right fingertips, absorbing into Fine Silk’s skin. “Oh,” Baklava managed, face screwing up in sympathy as Fine Silk just twitched a little. “Does it hurt?”

“A little sting,” the paint whispered, “but I’ve had much worse. I appreciate the concern, though.” Still keeping Baklava’s hand on her chest with one hand, Fine Silk’s other hand came down to brush against the chestnut mare’s cheek. “You asked me before why I saved you, when you are just one pony?” Baklava barely had to nod before Fine Silk continued. “It is because you are one pony. Any pony who is suffering in any way should be comforted and cared for, if possible. It doesn’t always happen, but I do my best to get in touch with those who do need a little more help and care, and do what I can for them. I don’t want to ask for much in return; helping is its own reward.”

“This still...it must be a lot for you.” Baklava felt too good right now to be too concerned, but this felt almost like taking advantage of the other pony’s kindness.

Purple eyes blinked down at her, completely open and honest. “Baklava, I would go to the ends of Equus for you,” Fine Silk declared. “You deserve nothing less.”

About a year ago, just after they’d gotten engaged, Baklava and Poppy had talked a lot. Well, they’d always had long talks with each other, but this one had been important. “Lavvy,” he’d said, “if, Faust forbid, you outlive me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to grieve for me for the rest of your days. If you can find happiness in someone else, I want you to do that.” How could Baklava even ponder such a thing, loving someone besides the pony she’d wanted to spend the rest of her life with? Still, she’d agreed; they could find love and enjoyment in other couples, after all, so the possibility of another love later in life was not outlandish.

Baklava leaned up, a little stronger now that some of the curse’s power over her was gone, and she rested her lips against Fine Silk’s. She didn’t push; she never had, in any kiss with anyone, but maybe Fine Silk would like it? Purple eyes blinked once in surprise, and then the paint’s free arm wrapped around the chestnut’s back as Fine kissed her back, humming a little in happiness.

The two of them briefly parted, faces still close together. “You are wonderful,” Fine whispered, just tickling Baklava’s cheek with her words. “Wonderful and beautiful, smart and special.”

The heat of her blush was definitely not fever related this time. “Just...want to show that I appreciate you. Everything that you’ve done,” Baklava whispered, looking up at this beautiful pony with a completely free mind and open heart. “And...you’re doing all of this with good intent. I don’t mind being fixated on you. Don’t think it could be with a better pony.”

She was gently tipped back again onto the cushioned ground, while Fine Silk knelt over her. “I never want to replace your husband,” she said, and Baklava found it very easy to believe her. “Believe me, I do not. I never want to usurp that connection that you still have with him. If you want to stay with me, though, when this is over, then I will care for you and cherish you. I will never hurt you.”

That sounded just...very nice. “I would like that. To stay with you.”

“You could travel however you wanted to, of course,” Fine added quickly, “and move about however you wanted. I don’t...you’re not my servant or slave. I would give you a stipend, to spend as you wish-” but the brown fist at her chest knocked the muscle and bone there gently, just to get her attention, before flattening out.

“Miss Silk, I believe you,” Baklava whispered up to her. “I trust you, or I would not have agreed to this.” True, she barely knew this pony, but there wasn’t any sort of apprehension in her gut whenever Fine Silk was around. The other pony, even before this, had felt safe, even during her one magical rage. The paint had never been anything but kind, and seemed to honestly answer Baklava’s questions. At this point, being all alone, what did she have to lose?

There was barely a pause before Fine was leaning down again to press another earnest kiss to Baklava’s lips. Her free hand rubbed the other mare’s ribs, a simple gesture that had tingles of warmth and pleasure travelling up the baker’s skin. She reciprocated readily, kissing back eagerly and messily as more and more of the curse’s burn was pushed out through her hand and into the willing unicorn. She felt rather new at this, like her first fumbling attempts at making out with Poppy, but Baklava had kissed other mares before. What was so new about this? Oh, what did it matter. Fine Silk felt practiced enough, especially when one thumb pressed- oh~!

Fine Silk lifted her head as Baklava gasped at the unintentional brush against her breast. “Ah...I think I may have found an area where your ley lines are concentrated,” she admitted with a slight blush, but didn’t resist when the chestnut pony used her one free hand to press Fine Silk up against her breast, maintaining that delightful contact. “It can happen...they can be sensitive during sex, those ley lines.”

“L-love it,” Baklava stammered out, blushing herself. “Always have...my breasts.” Maybe the ley lines were the underlying cause for just how good her chest felt when touched, but whatever the reason, Baklava adored having her chest played with during sex. She pushed into the hand that she’d pressed to the malleable flesh, encouraging further contact. “Please...do more!”

“Nothing would give me more pleasure,” Fine Silk replied, with a grin so decadent and indulgent as to be almost sinful. “Though,” the paint paused, and was that a little teasing glint that she saw in her rich purple eyes? “What would you like me to do, Miss Baklava? Your wish is my command.”

The choice being given to her had Baklava’s mind in a tailspin. Fine Silk had given her carte blanche to ask for whatever she wanted. She just...liked it all! But that wouldn’t do, now, would it? She should try to give specifics, at least. And if they were a ley line hot spot on her body (to her delight), then Miss Silk was almost guaranteed to keep touching them. “...kiss them, please?” Baklava asked in a small, quiet voice, relaxing backwards after the initial rush of ecstasy.

“So polite,” Fine Silk cooed, dipping her head down to oblige. Soft lips connected with supple fur and skin, keeping the contact so deep, as if the point of contact were the lips of a passionate lover. Baklava hissed her pleasure and moaned out as her skin lit up, not with fever and pain but with goosebumps of delight. The tip of a tongue flicked against the skin of her breast as Miss Silk practically worshiped her. Blearily, Baklava noticed that she alone was keeping her hand to Fine’s chest while the paint pony’s hands were busy massaging the line where her breasts met her torso, rubbing into the tissue with tender, glowing fingertips, heightening the unicorn’s pleasure.

Poppy Loaf had expressed his joy with being able to fondle Baklava’s bosom, both before and after they were married, and she’d adored his attentions. They had been remarkable, unforgettable...and now, so were Fine Silk’s. Whereas Poppy had worked her over with the careful force of a baker, rubbing her deeply and loosening her muscles, Fine Silk worked with the nimble fingers of a weaver or seamstress, connecting magic to Baklava’s ley lines expertly and making her skin and muscles twitch and tingle. One had kneaded her flesh as if forming a perfect loaf, and the other was manipulating her to form a magnificent design, like an elaborate dress or a tapestry.

Baklava adored them both, submitted to them happily, then and now. “Please...more!” she gasped out to Fine Silk, one hand coming up to brush through the other mare’s dark mane.

Nodding against her tits, Fine Silk sucked a little on the soft flesh, leaving a mark beneath the blushing chestnut fur. Baklava tilted her head back and gave a moan of sweet delight. Fine kissed and sucked her way over both of the jiggling mounds, continuing to massage the tissue and press magic into the ley lines. Deep beneath, the pulsing cyan lines became less dotted with sickly red and more with bright purple, but the new magic moved in unison with the old, and only appeared sporadically, never completely taking over.

Not that Baklava was able to see anything on the meta-minute level, or much of anything at all at the moment. Her vision was whiting out with pleasure and just how expertly Fine Silk was working her over. The unicorn still knelt at her side, still moved slowly and softly and never moved to overwhelm her, but the control that Baklava was giving up was being gratefully accepted and handled delicately. This wasn’t one pony becoming slave to another, no. If Baklava had the mind to focus on the comparison, this was a moment of new lovers becoming more in tune with their dynamic, fully realizing each other. Baklava could just lay back, give up this control, and trust that Fine Silk would take care of her.

“Hah!” the chestnut gasped, face practically brick red as plush lips fastened over one of her nipples. “M-miss Silk!”

Purple eyes flicked up to meet light blue, and those delightful lips unfastened from the perked nub. “Too much?” There was genuine concern in Fine’s voice as she watched her new charge, but her fingers continued to work so very gently, weaving her magic into Baklava’s ley lines to take away the worst of the curse.

“No!” Baklava’s hand, the one in Fine Silk’s mane, pressed just enough on the back of the other unicorn’s head to keep them close to their original position. “Please...it feels good. Really good,” she whimpered, unafraid to show just how vulnerable she was and how much she was loving it.

The paint smiled coyly into the chestnut’s breast, looking up at Baklava with eyes filled with...adoration? It was the closest thing that her pleasure-addled head could come up with. “You enjoy being touched and kissed here?” she asked in a whisper.

Shakily, Baklava nodded, her eyes filled with fuzzy purple light as she both tried to answer and also succumb to the pleasure. After the past few days, she really wanted to just...let go for a bit. “Yes,” she gasped. “Love it. Love...being kissed. Bitten.” The blush on her cheeks, if it was even possible, deepened as she admitted, “and sucked. Always thought I’d… reminds me of...milk,” she finished with a squeak. Oh, this was so embarrassing, admitting one of those deep-seated desires to this relative stranger-

“Really?” Fine Silk asked, not in disgust or confusion, but interest. “Each pony has their thing. I can see why you might have that particular kink.” She didn’t draw away from Baklava, no, but nuzzled in between those ample mounds gently, carefully, kissing them both. “I have no problem with that. Your breasts are very lovely. You are very lovely.”

Baklava was just about to whisper her thanks for the compliment when those smooth lips fastened over her right nipple again, and she threw her head back and groaned in delight. “Ooh...Fiiiiiiiiiii-” Her words were cut off as the paint unicorn gave a few gentle sucks with her mouth. Was it just her, or did Fine Silk’s lips seem to glow with the same purple light as her hands and horn? That faint question was quickly tossed out the proverbial window when Fine Silk stopped kneading the chestnut’s chest and instead curled her hand under the unoccupied breast. She rolled the supple flesh in her fingers, squeezing and warming it with her palm.

It was so very tempting to swear colorfully at just how good all of the attention felt. Baklava gasped, groaned, and sighed her delight as Fine Silk played her like a lute; squeezing, kissing, sucking, and slowly trailing her way down Baklava’s strengthening body. By now, the worst of the curse had been removed from her, and while some of it remained, permanently tied to her ley lines now, it was much smaller and more manageable. She barely even noticed it, what with her body and mind burning with euphoria.

Fine Silk didn’t stop her sweet gestures, even though her treatment was complete and crimson fire licked at the inside of her skin. Her upper body, specifically her lips, trailed in a winding pattern down between Baklava’s bosom and towards her belly, with the single white star that was so very sensitive. Encouraged by the melodic moans coming from the pony beneath her, the paint kissed around the edge of the white patch of fur, tracing it with her lips and tongue, before pressing her lips to the center of that star.

Electric pleasure rolled through Baklava’s body, from the tips of her hooves all the way to the roots of her mane, and her body bowed as she cried out from the orgasm, her pussy clenching on nothing but itself. Every cell of her body seemed to be flooded with pleasure of all sorts; physical, emotional, mental, and magical. If she’d been able to see, Baklava would’ve watched her body spark with purple and cyan lightning, egging that ecstasy on, keeping it cycling through her. On and on, the orgasm kept going, and it didn’t seem to know when to plateau. Even with nothing inside her slit to fill her, that didn’t matter right now. This was something special, wonderful, almost overwhelming.

All of this, her pleasure and her life, thanks to the smiling pony at her belly. Fine Silk.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of riding that endless wave of ecstasy, Baklava became more aware that the floor around her was cold marble, and she was back in her own torn dress and the cloak that she’d borrowed. Through blurry vision, she saw a black and white shape kneeling over her, no longer glowing with magic. Something soft was brushing against Baklava’s eyes and coming away wet.

“Are you alright?” Fine Silk asked in a quiet voice, keeping close to the mare on her back without being stifling or crowding too close. Still almost sparking with the residual pleasure, Baklava nodded against the cool floor, curling into a ball even as a few clear tears fell from her eyes.

“It was good...so good,” she rasped, completely spent and exhausted, happy to have those tears wiped away by a soothing handkerchief. “Thank you, Miss Silk.”

Just a few hours ago, it felt like Baklava never be able to be happy again, not without Poppy Loaf, her in-laws, and her friends. Now, it didn’t matter to her that some of this was probably (most definitely) due to Fine Silk’s magic. There was a light at the end of the tunnel now, a light that shimmered purple, black, and white.