Heavenly Press

Several years before Twilight's Thrones let alone Hunting Season

Whumpf.

A lithe-- mostly-- blue body went flying, the air whistling like a train engine, soon to be slammed into the ground hard enough for a full-bodied spanking. Rainbow Dash's usually divine reflexes were simply outmatched by the speed with which she'd been thrown, and she landed flat on her back, cutie marks first.

The sting and pleasure of it nearly made her forget the humiliation of how easily she'd been tossed. Unfortunately, the arc of the throw and the force of impact also slammed Dash's lovely D-cup tits into her own muzzle a few times. On the way down, and after impact.

Dash very firmly decided to blame the aching stiffness of her nipples-- and the quivering of her pussy-- on her treacherous cutie marks' response to being slapped down on the mat. Briefly decided, anyway; decision, like any coherent thought of defense or retaliation, was rapidly knocked out of her head. It was like her cutie marks were yelping and screaming in orgasm, all at once, and she was swept away just as surely as she'd been swept off her feet and onto said marks.

The loving sadism of that aim was hard to appreciate in the moment, though it was everything she'd begged for. The mat's slap rocked her toned rump cheeks sternly, but that yearned-for swatting was overwhelmed rapidly. Her hypersensitive cutie marks struck her senses like the bolts they portrayed. Pleasure spiralled towards her brain, wrapped in the gorgeous pain of her glutes accepting their just punishment.

Then the mat's slap spread. Thighs and wings and back and calves were abruptly rocked, sting and impact radiating out along her body. Somehow, though, despite the loving brutality of the throw, her wings were merely beaten, not broken. Her taut, tough arms and rugged shoulders slapped about, not shattered. Any defense greater pain might have given her against the insistent demands of her still-smarting cutie marks was gone.

So she came, squealing, like the little slut she was. Oh, in most contexts, even with other hyper mares bigger than she, Rainbow Dash, Princess of Loyalty and commander of the Equestrian Aerial Force and Martial Weather Divisions, was simply too powerful to be a little slut. Even some of the big nine-footer earth pony muscle-bitches, the rarest of the rare couldn't hold a candle to her. Quantity was not always quantity; her thirty-five inch biceps packed more punch than most mares with quads bigger than her whole body.

She couldn't see. It wasn't the pain, it wasn't the fact that she'd been knocked silly by the back of her head impacting the mat.

She couldn't see because she was cumming too hard for her eyes to communicate with her brain. From being thrown.

Here, quantity and quality ruled her so thoroughly she didn't even have the wherewithal to realize her fingers were making clitty-love motions despite her arms being spread as far out on the mat as her reach could manage. Couldn't tell that her knees were instinctively spreading and her toes curling and digging into the mat as best they could.

Hence, though she didn't know it, Dash's amazonian seven-feet-tall form was spread and arched to give her sparring mistress a gorgeous view of her abs clenching and pussy gushing in climax. Her every scream of half-tormented pleasure music to the severe giantess standing over her.

Not that Dash could remember, for the moment, who'd thrown her. Her world was ache and orgasm now. Her everywhere stung. Still, she wasn't injured, per se. The terrifying muscle-mare above her had thrown her with such intricate micro-control that the sting was all the hubristic little subbie suffered-- so far. She struggled a bit, hips still rutting like she was being studded, to try to get back to her feet.

Or at least her knees. But she never even got off her back. She simply pushed herself into more of an arch, like an obscene table stretch, perpetually perky melons slapping her chin a few more times.

Then her vision went darker still-- no light to brighten anything was left to reach her pleasure-blinded eyes.

She thudded uncontrollably back into the mat beneath the weight and might of her gargantuan sparring partner. The weight forcing her down alone would have outmassed two stallions.

Made of pure gold.

Wham. Her ankles and lower calves were squeezed and gripped like manacles meant for a dragon lord were shrinking around them. She didn't even dare think of some awesome way to otherwise put her situation.

Not even in her own mind.

She. Was. Fucked. No escape. No daring burst of last minute speed could help her now. Honesty as solid as Applejack's rock-hard flexed asscheeks was driven into her brain the same way her ankles were driven back against her wrists.

An indescribably beautiful, strong smell had its way with her nostrils and conquered her lungs just as easily as the musky body above had casually defeated Rainbow in a simple sweep.

Because it would please her lover, she flexed her long, toned legs. Tried to put on a display of sculpted quads and calves that-- in other, less laughably overmatched scenarios-- she'd call powerful. Scenarios such as when she'd hefted and carried Ember's dad after Maze socked the poor emeritus dragon lord with a sleep spell. Yes, Bulk, she thought muzzly, her blue head spinning. I lifted with my knees. It was easier than picking up Tank!

Every breath she took, every grunt and groan that was forced through her chest, filled her lungs with that scent. And she was heaving. Rippled abs and taut, corded limbs were as useless to her as a stud with a chastity belt, a feather, and zero oral experience.

No, she was helpless, picked up by her impossibly strong partner and flipped around like a pool noodle. Thrashed this way and that, her beating paused only when the massive mare fuck-fighting her made sure to shove Rainbow where she could get further whiffs.

It was elysium, her few glimpses of sight showing gorgeous white nether lips, plump and drooling, framed by the most colossal, cart-sized-and-change, hurricane-thunderstorm thighs in existence.

And it was tartarus, the pin leaving her unable to even brattily taste that aphrodisiac dew, let alone properly worship princess pussy or maretriarch muscle.

Brief paradise and brief incarceration, at least; before Dash could even cry out at the sheer beauty of all that power on display, she was shoved around to some new angle, some new hold, and some new punishment.

Not that she needed to be forced; it just seemed to please her opponent, and while pleasing this fighter was always Rainbow's delight, the scent left her with little choice. It pushed oxygen out, and as Rainbow thrashed fruitlessly with strength that could shatter hills and shiver mountains, it burned liquid heat and liquid sex into her very brain.

As her well-trimmed, rainbow-furred pussy gushed, she remembered: she was commanded to fight. So, pleasure and submission's temptations aside, she struggled with herself, then fought back all the harder, trying to at least kick some space to get her feet away from her wrists.

None of it mattered. At seven feet tall, she wouldn't have been very big for a hyper. She was an aerobat by design, a fencer and javelin-mistress by training, and her muscles were dense, tight and taut and tough.

Wimpy, featherlight, spindly, and weak in this context.

Though, for her height, her thirty-five inch biceps and the proportional girth and peak that matched it from tricep to quads to calves-- legs again hee, thought Rainbow as something huge, two somethings both huge and sloshing smacked her prone form around-- were pretty sweet. Taut sixpack, not a four, and this trick she could do with her belly rolling and something bendable like hard-forged mithril…

Yeah, some part of Rainbow Dash, some ultimately irrepressible Dashness, knew she was a toughy.

But she was nothing compared to the form above her, and knew that, too. Loved it, just like she'd love to lick every rippling, muscled square inch of white hide, from shoulders that seemed broad enough to hold up the world, to hundred and ten inch fully flexed biceps, to-- that ass. That enormous, perfect, plump gorgeous rump with so much strength beneath it that Dash's entire body would have been beaten back by just a flex of a single glute, let alone the full force of The Booty Supreme.

No, Dash felt like a contented little nothing here-- wasn't she receiving minutes of what most switch bitches in the world sell their own fathers for even ten seconds? She was nothing beneath her mistress, and loved it. Loved enough to squirm and fight, but she had no hope of even disturbing the power put against her.

Not on power within nor power displayed. The increasingly vibrant colors of her rainbow mane were pale shadows of the glow above her. It was sheerest mercy-- or a mistress' whim-- that by gracious blessing, that glow made her pert, punk manecut look even -more- badass as it curled around her outstretched horn.

Well, should have been badass, if she wasn't taking such a hiding.

She was naked and sweaty, just like she'd been after she'd fucked the whole Wonderbolts in a single night. For some reason, it flipped through her brain right after she was flipped around horde-bearing hip and put on the floor again.

It had been sweet. The night after her apotheosis. When they'd fallen on their knees-- even Spitfire-- and asked for a second go. All because of the dripping outline of her potent form. "Like an orgy and a workout," Spitfire had said. Add to that Rainbow's luscious handful D-cup melons, pert and perky by alicorn might, toned hips and-- if she said so herself-- a nice, fuckable booty, and she should be hottie badass general that Luna had named her.

But that was pride. If there'd been a full wing of Dash-clones swarming the giga-musclezon her, the result would have been the same, and Dash was put through the wringer yet again.

Wham. Mat again. Her beaten butt battered again. Another-pain-pleasure climax wracked her, and then yet again, she was slammed hard beneath the superior mass of her sparring mistress.

Was this any way to be a badass? The scent had done its work, and she had an answer, even with her ears ringing and her whole body throbbing.

Nope. Absolutely not the way to be a badass. There was a moment's breath, and she tried one last time to at least give a good show of being a sparring partner and not a combination dakimarekura-cum-punching bag...

Nope, Rainbow giggled to herself as her body remained bent for all her sinews strained to pull her out of her captor's grip. Nope, not a badass. Good little fucktoy!

This bit of punch-drunk silliness was going to cost Rainbow. As one of the younger alicorns of the (don't call it divine or you'll make Celestia sad) monarchy of Equestria, the once-pegasus had learned to multitask. But when the world's mightiest monarch-- mightiest muscle mare-- the world's dominant everything-- bodyslams someone, they get knocked for however many loops she wants.

Rainbow certainly couldn't blame the droolworthy titan of muscle and curve above her.

Dashie-- she was definitely down in the blissful fuzzy-subspaced mind of Dashie-- literally had asked for this.

Well, she thought with half-fear, half-arousal, I'm not sure what she's doing with this stupid new bone on my forehead, but I don't think I asked for that!

It didn't matter. Her mistress was on fire, now, just barely short of literally. A long, low grunt escaped the titanic ten-foot-eight amazon, sending her gigantic ZZZZ-cup ultratits bouncing ahead of arching her own back as she loomed over Dashie.

The floor shook, and somehow, it shook just enough to FWUMP Dashie's poor, sensitive itsy-bitsy D-cup-titties into her stinging muzzle yet again.

Celestia wasn't stomping. She wasn't pulling a Twilight, using arcane calculations of force and motion to beat Dashie with Dashie's own body. Always fun, that, but no, that wasn't the Princess of the Sun's aim, and no golden glow at Celestia's horn was there to suggest this might be telekinetic tit-torture.

No.

Celestia just wasn't bothering to restrain herself. The whole world was obeying her every step, her ultra-dense muscles setting the world pounding.

Dashie's own tits were beating themselves against her muzzle from the vibration because Celestia found Dashie's humiliation and Dashie's punishment sexy, and the very world itself conspired to obey that lust.

Lust. Dashie swallowed heavily as the thundering stopped and her Princess loomed above her. Oh… Her… I thought I knew what lust was!

Celestia's eyes were the only thing Dashie's orgasm-hazed vision could make out at first. They were bugging slightly, not with rage that would have made Dashie near die from fear. Instead, the magenta was burning to red, and both eyes filled with a most-unprincessly lust. They somehow opened even more frighteningly wide-- flared.

Stare not too long into the abyss of unsatisfied horniness that is Celestia's, lest…

Dashie couldn't remember the rest. It shouldn't have been this hard.

Yes, Celestia was the oldest alicorn on Epona. But it wasn't like Rainbow Dash wasn't an alicorn. She was! Even this mind-fucked, she could at least remember the Symbolic spheres that she commanded and belonged to. Loyalty, Evocation, and Storms. She was a princess, she embodied one-sixth of Harmony, and she had practiced by fucking (okay, being fucked by) Luna and Twilight first.

That preparation was even more useless than the strength to crush castles.

Dashie's mind was violated. Ravished. At, yes, her own request and therefore theoretically with her consent, but she had pushed too far and now Celestia was giving her exactly what she asked for. She couldn't help but obey those eyes, that lust.

The haze of her climaxes and beating cleared from her sight. Not because she was recovering, though thankfully her earthpower kept her regenerating.

(After all, if Dashie had been in danger, Celestia would have stopped immediately, and that was a worse terror)

No, she could see clearly now-- in crisp detail, even!-- because Celestia was posing, and wanted an audience. Celestia wanted to be seen, so Dashie could see now. Had to see now. Just above the glory of the Celestial Pussy, those big white palms were pressed together beneath and forearms bulging up against utterly succulent mountain-boobs with a combined diameter nearly as long across as Dashie herself from head to toe.

Those elegant, strong fingers laced, and Celestia squeezed. Suddenly, Dashie realized that what she'd been forced to view was simply her godd-- her mistress at rest. Reality showed off the rest now as Celestia swept her wings back slightly and bowed her knees. Titanic muscles, many bigger than Dashie's whole body, tensed in a wholly unnecessary but nip-stiffening, resolve-breaking sexy display of perfect princess pony potency. Barrels and barrels of quadriceps, heart-shaped calves big enough to love the world, and of course, those enormous biceps-- it was all too much. Dashie lost her will to continue obeying her mistress' command to, "At least moderate your untamed cunt!"

Usually, when Twilight or Luna responded her Infinite Please Technique and threw Dashie around the salle a bit, she was able to meet her mistress' demand for self-edging. As a pegasus, from a fairly randy if disciplined culture, Dashie didn't entirely understand denying the rewards of pleasure, but it was a whole Royal Herd thing and Dashie's perpetual near-bottom place in the pecking order meant she didn't get to change the subbie side of the culture much.

Besides, they were willing to accommodate her 'quantity has a quality of its own' philosophy in non-kink situations. Dashie couldn't wish that she'd been smart enough to stick with mares a mere on to two feet taller than she, though; being ravished by Celestia was worth every moment.

But then she remembered. Celestia hadn't even bothered to give Dashie the chance to try-- just told her to hold herself back as much as she could, or risk disappointing her high princess.

As the combined glow of rainbow and gold swirled through Dashie, driving towards her spasming sex, Celestia easily hauled the younger princess up, still bowed in half. With a horny grunt, Celestia shifted Dashie about onto a single quad,so her blue butt and cutie-mark rainbolts were aching inches away from the hypnotically flowing auroric pubic hair of the Princess of the Sun, her back resting on the slight plush over gargantuan, sculpted muscles. Left her almost falling between those impossibly broad thighs that could have housed Rainbow's entirely family!

Cloned. In each.

Rainbow didn't know what price she was going to pay for 'losing' their sparring match. Like she'd had a chance. Didn't know how much her beloved mistress and monarch would make her 'suffer' for breaking clit control. Not a clue, but she did know she wanted it. Needed it.

After all-- she had asked for it.

"Please?"

"My dear…"

"Please please please?"

"My dear little pony. You don't know what you're asking for."

I darn well do! thought Rainbow Danger-Responsibility-Cunt-E- Grr, Pinkie! She might know what she was asking for, but she didn't know how Pinkie had gotten her to think of herself in that freaking nickname. Even before Pinkie had become an alicorn.

She knew what she wanted. She wanted whatever it was that made Twilight wobbly in the hips and smell like a season's worth of heat after just one Saturday with their mutual liege. The thought had her drooling.

The drool got High Princess Celestia Sola Invicta sighing, heaving up a pair of quad-Z melons that Rainbow just wanted to climb all over and feather-stroke-worship every inch. Which had her drooling yet more. Some barely proud-- dignity was for not awesome ponies, Rainbow had pride instead-- part of her was grateful that the High Princess had agreed to a completely private meeting, without her messengercolts and professional tightbutts.

Fine, Rainbow thought grudging between hopefully staring up at her gigantic monarch. Royal Guard. They had proved useful, and some of the pegasi could actually fly to her standards.

Celestia's full, sweet lips curled into something a few sadnesses short of a smile, but with a hint of something Rainbow couldn't quite catch. Something that made her feathers shiver and the itchy stupid thing rising out of her mane-- Still not used to that!-- twitch lightly. Something that meant it wasn't a mark of disappointment with Rainbow.

She wasn't sure that she could have born Celestia's disappointment. Real disappointment, not just that lonely look the elder princess got when reality remained stubbornly aligned as it ever had. There were risks to any maneuver; Luna had taught her that. Rainbow just wished Luna had done something other than laugh uproariously when the Alicorn of Loyalty had asked her military superior for tips on how to get a topping from Celestia.

Rainbow was abruptly aware she still hadn't spoken in reply to Celestia, and began to take a closer hide color to Twilight's as she sputtered, "I--"

Celestia's head flicked slightly, her auroric mane and regal white horn shimmering in the late afternoon sunlight. Rainbow could feel the forbiddance and obeyed in utter silence, ceasing all protests. Princess of Storms and Goddess of Evocation or not, when the Princess of the Sun, the Alicorn of Transmutation, and the Goddess (Never call her that, Twilight had said, but Rainbow knew) of Perfection used body language to make her decrees, they bypassed Rainbow's conscious mind and went straight to her body.

Which was unfair! Celestia could give me an order to feel some zing at the same time she makes me zip it.

"I know you think you know, my sweet sister of the Royal Bachelorette Herd," Celestia said, and sniffed faintly. Rainbow would have been mortified at how her thong underwear soaked at earning the name from Celestia. Well, not exactly the name; more pride, that. No, it was the massive embarrassment of the massively majestic maretriarch of said R.B.H. scenting her.

If it hadn't been for the light pleasure-sparkle within the unreadable purple of those endlessly deep, endlessly ancient eyes, well… Rainbow was sure, regardless of what Twilight thought, that she really would have been able to die from sheer awfulness right on the spot. But she hadn't.

Because-- hope of hopes-- there was, Rainbow was sure, a tremble of lust within her herd sense, new as her horn but now as much a part of her as her wings. Just a trickle, as it were, but that was what Rainbow wanted.

To be fucked. To be dominated. To be owned by the singular standard of Mare until the return of Luna. And Luna had made for an unforgettable night, right?

Just because I can't remember anything other than 'ooh' and that it was awesome doesn't mean I forgot it. Just that it was too awesome to be captured in the head alone. So Rainbow stared up at Celestia, hopeful, holding to the thread of that lust like a storm-lost filly.

Celestia towered above her. Above everypony, really. Even her sister was a good foot and change shorter than the ten-foot-four mega-mare sitting before Rainbow on a throne of gold. Even sitting, the crest of her head was taller than Rainbow's own seven feet of hyper warmare-- for that matter, her forehead was still taller than Rainbow plus the weird but undoubtedly amazing Rainbow Dash Horn.

And that was height alone, not counting the ever-flowing glow of Celestia's mane, nor the spiraling prominence of Celestia's majestic horn. In terms of breadth and, even Rainbow would admit, badassery, Celestia had her and any two alicorns combined other than Luna completely beat.

Even Luna Selene Solutae, whom Celestia and anyone with sense knew was the more dangerous pony, couldn't match her elder sister's sheer breadth in the shoulder; nor the rippling strength of uncountably potent muscles between them; above them, down from them, and on. Celestia's potent control of body language that made most ponies just think of her as motherly and kept them from being overwhelmed by her raw presence was still mostly in effect, of course.

Dash had an alicorn's senses, now, and while she wasn't -- not unless she was lucky-- going to be turned into an utter pussy-driven puddle just by noticing the slightest movement of biceps that could peak out at one hundred and ten inches, just that littlest twitch of supreme power beneath her stark white dress, she knew they were there. She wasn't fooled by her feudal superior's passive projection any more. She knew just how massive and mighty the bulges of those forearms were. How elegant but thick white fingers could curl into fists against which the adamantine-and-enchanted-jade Gates of Tartarus could not hold.

I'll be forgiven, she thought, blushing further as her eyes trailed down the front of Celestia's simple outfit. For only estimating how pumped those pecs of hers are until I get her to use them on me. No one, not even gay males, could avoid having at least a little bit of hungry drool at the massive swell of Celestia's perfect, soft-yet-perky, gravity-defying mega-mammaries and their ZZZZ mass. Heck, I've seen her in a swimsuit-- unless you're close enough to be in those tits' shadow, you can hardly see her eight-pack and it's sweeter than even Mac's when he dreams of being an alicorn!

Legs, legs legs, crossed in that relaxed style that said 'Boardroom Bossmare' and not 'Demure Broodmare'-- as though the latter could ever be applied to Celestia. Her huge quads shifted lightly under a dress that fooled most normal ponies into believing it was mostly shapeless, and Rainbow so desperately wanted to be held on them, or bent over across them for a spanking a naughty Dashie desperately deserved!

Celestia was sitting upon the Grand Sun Booty, of course. That's how you sit, dumbass! Rainbow reminded her increasingly fuzzy headed self. But when standing, that plush tush cushion was unmistakable. Whether it was because of Celestial pride that made the High Princess not want to conceal how lushly extravagant her ass was, or-- Rainbow's favorite theory-- because nothing short of Luna's divine Illusions could conceal the Perfect Equestrian Rump, no one would know, but heads followed that rear wherever it bounced and shimmied.

With those hips, so wide and drool-demandingly curvaceous that Celestia could put her own hands 'flat' on them with room to spare-- with those hips, Celestia could hardly even make a stately procession without shimmying. Past those and hurricane, end-of-the-world thunderstorm mega-muscled thighs, of course, what could be seen were tough, mega-melon-sized calves, any eyes watching would inevitably follow down… down… down.. down to size thirty feet that shouldn't have looked demure in Celestia's preferred flats.

But did, because Celestia wanted them to. Dash had seen her unshod though, and she desperately wanted to suck on each individual toe. Like, for an hour a piece.

"... a piece… and maybe on each whole foot for…"

"While I'm sure you do--" Celestia began, and then, forbiddance or not, she laughed gently, kindly when Dash interrupted her with a yelp and sudden wing-bonered leap into the air.

"I said that out loud!" Dashie moaned, returning to the floor. Celestia always insisted that the High Princess title was a mere formality, at most of precedence and that Dashie-- Rainbow Dashness being outside of her self-identification as she huddled beneath her own wings, curled up on the floor. That Dashie should stand before her and not bow, as her sister-of-herd… Dashie couldn't.

Not after releasing that little escapee on the shortcut between brain and lips. Not really the most dignified addition, even if it was perfectly in context. Dashie had hoped for a little decorum to match even a hundredth of Celestia's. Something to hold onto while begging to be sexually dominated as politely as she could manage, she'd up and mumbled her stupid, stupid mouth about sucking her wet dreams' cooler older sister's toes! Before even getting a yes or a second date!

Unfun, and definitely not going according to Plan.

No, she curled up, horn to the floor in complete, miserable, unsexual submission, her wings covering her like a punk trying to avoid a training blow. Shutting herself off from herdsense; hoping her intensely dignified monarch-maretriarch-goddess' wrath wouldn't kill her before Celestia could take the pleasure of doing it herself.

That the little non-panicked-also-a-deity-alicorn-princess part of her in the back of her head tried to remind the rest of her that Celestia never took pleasure in defeating anyone who didn't deserve it, let alone killing them-- well. The rest of Dashie was certain she'd violated the protocol Twilight had learned to love at Celestia's feet so badly that she had to deserve it.

Instead, there was a swift movement in the air; a light musk, and suddenly, Dashie couldn't hold her eyes closed any more.

Peaking out from between the fingers spreading open from where she'd planted her hands over her face, Dashie swallowed deeply. A beautiful sight; strong and shapely to make Rarity weep over the proper shoes for it-- the gorgeous toes of Celestia's left foot, thick big toe the size of a normal stallion's fist pointed right at Dashie's trembling muzzle.

"Oh, my poor little pony," came that fluid, loving maretriarch's Kindness. "You truly do not know what you ask. But I think my dear sister has cut my edge off enough--" and this was said with a lasciviousness that Dashie couldn't believe had come from Princess C-- from Mistress Celestia. Yes I can believe that's Hers. It's as perfect as Mistress Moon's was intoxicating.

Dashie began humping the air, tail tugging hard at the formal dress over her rolling rump, at just Mistress Celestia's voice. Forget all shame at a gushing cunny; would could do less before such awesome awesomeness of raw sex and power-- and that was just Mistress' foot. Dashie didn't know if she could survive seeing Mistress like this, but was hoping she'd be allowed to risk it.

Slowly, still grinding her ass like a broodie trying to signal a stallion, Dashie opened her mouth and scooted closer to the Royal Big Toe. A cleared throat made it clear that Mistress didn't want her putting on that show yet. So Dashie forced her lithe, gymnast's hips and taut, 'slender'-- for an alicorn, positively twiggy before Mistress-- legs to control themselves.

Mistress Celestia continued, "As I was saying, sweet little pony, my sister has managed to take enough of my Need that I think I can control myself enough to indulge you. The once. With two main caveats. First, you have but five minutes to adore my toe…"

Dashie whinnied her acceptance, unable to verbalize the affirmative that she understood. Of course she understood. Mistress would want better attention in return for such a wonderful gift as Dashie had begged for. Not wanting to waste a moment, she slapped her wings back tight against her sides.

The prettiness of that huge toe and perfectly trimmed toenail-- and the huge foot entire-- sparked a use for Dashie's horn at last. Slowly, carefully, she submissively stroked her horn against the perfectly sculpted super-strong ankle of Mistress Celestia.

When she got the groan of maretriarch approval, Dashie took courage and hungrily opened the maw that kept getting her in so much trouble. Groaning and gasping herself, she pressed her lips close around that big, amazing toe.

A part of her had wondered if she'd freak out, if she wouldn't know what to do with a foot to worship like this. She was already certain that having become intimately familiar with every last hair of Luna and Twilight's foot-hide wouldn't be nearly enough experience for this mistress.

Chin and horn dipped low and submissive, Dashie rode the sudden rush of her own pleasure and the musk of Mistress Celestia. Her cheeks hollowed, and she squirmed hard, tail swishing, and asscheeks clapping, Dashie snorted at her own absurdity. Of course her experience wasn't, couldn't ever be good enough.

But Dashie was a good little bitch, and Celestia's foot was so mouthwateringly beautiful that of course Dashie knew what to do.

Her lips parted around the huge toe, and she swirled her tongue around the tip. Then, she got to work. Even if she'd never kissed a foot, let alone worshiped one before in her life, just being allowed to at all told her whole body what to do.

Suck on that gorgeous toe.

Suck like a broodie given access to the herdstud and wanting to prove worthy of being bred.

Suck like, well, a sluttie little subby given the opportunity to prove her worth.

So Dashie did. Her tongue worked Celestia's big toe expertly, while she bobbed her head over it, treating it like it could swab her throat-- not quite that big of a body difference, alas-- and deserved every enthusiastic slurp and humming adoration she could.

Which it did. So she kept it up, 'teasing' her tongue towards the webbing, lightly stroking the sensitive skin just above the critical nerve that ran all the way up… Fellating it like Bulk behind the bleachers, suckling on it like Flutters' not-quite-Celestial mega-nips back in Cloudsdale when they'd first experimented.

No, like when she'd been able to give Flutters her best efforts after reuniting in Ponyville.

She waited for the second ultimatum actively, curling her tongue and swirling it over Celestia's toe, massaging around the perfectly-trimmed toenail, sucking hungrily as though her next rainboom depended on worship here.

The sun made rainbows. Perhaps its Princess did make rainbooms?

"Good slut," cooed Mistress Celestia. "You are a fast bitch, I'll give you that," she added, and Dashie knew this was Mistress Sun, the moaned-out name and persona that Twilight's half-stuttered praises had sent Dashie to the capital, desperately hoping to find. "Second, one who would be my slave, understand this: my sister can barely take my best every few nights. My slutty-strong Sparkle, every few months. I, and I alone will be the judge of when next we shall 'spar' or anything else-- am I clear?"

Mistress Sun's hungry grin could be heard in her voice. "Teleport that somewhat…" Mistress Sun trailed off and a cunt-quivering, knee-knocking wave of lewd fear pulsed through Dashie as she sensed a combination of disapproval and amusement from her Mistress. "Mm. Somewhat hubristic little collar you had Precious make for you around your throat as a yes, broodie. Don't you dare take your lips from their appointed place."

Precious. A not-so-tiny part of Rainbow Dash, the Princess Part, almost rebelled, knowing that Rarity had connived her way between Celestia's thighs first. But on the whole, all of Rainbow Danger-Responsibility-Cunt-Eating-McBitchyPoo Dash wanted nothing so much as to please and to find pleasure in the pleasing of Mistress Sun, Princess Celestia. First, for once, didn't matter so much as now. She threw every bit of her Princessness into pleasing that lovely, divine big toe.

And that had got her to the mat with Princess Celestia Sola Invicta, First Among Alicorn-Equals, Princess of the Sun, Goddess (areligious) of Perfection, Alicorn of Transmutation. It would have been worth it for the toe alone.