Heavenly Press

"Oh. Right. And the interest." Dashie swallowed heavily. "How much more interest would it cost me to run out and change my name to Icartus?"

The laughing, joyous belltones of Celestia's cheer soothed Dashie. Like a healing rush of power, it slowly blunted even the sting. Maybe it was the warm milk, still pulsing through her body. No-- it was more, her mistress' joy and approval making Dashie whole in record time.

Still chuckling, the mightier muscle-mare eventually commented, "You won't be conscious enough to shower with me when we're done, but I'll let you suck a bit of my milk again once I clean your mouth to speed your recovery; you've certainly shown the willpower necessary!"

Princess herself, Dashie's soul rose to meet her mistress, and smile met smile. The joy of the laugh did more than heal Dashie from her travails. It gave her renewed purpose to pay love back unto love. There was a reminder in that loving ring that Celestia cared deeply for her subbie's heart, and not just her obedience.

Celestia gently guided her back down to rest on that titanic thigh beneath. A soft exhale left her corded throat, and seemed to relieve her subbie just as much. Rainbow Dash closed her eyes and decided to let the last sight of her arrogance be the brilliant dimpling of Celestia's muzzle in a literally shining smile.

The sight-- and the goddess behind it, regardless of that goddess' refusal to be worshiped-- healed Rainbow Dash even more. Her travails already faded, the battering of the throwdown soothed away, and bruised bought by hubris were healed by joy.

Not that she wasn't still sore. Not even the Milk of the Sun would take it all away-- not with milked and milkslut both alicorns in agreement on victories. After all, that joy didn't take the sting from her. She'd earned that sting and loved it nearly as much as her mistress' smile.

Time passed. Eyes closed, Rainbow Dash suddenly felt tremendously rested, as though she'd had a full night's sleep to ready here.

Did she sleep? She couldn't be sure. Surely her mistress was too demanding and too fair to let her incur more 'interest' through sleep.

No, she decided, and would never ask. Must just be the absorption.

Her belly felt taut again. Toned and tough-- which of course meant flat and formless next to Celestia's definitive abdominal definition.

A rumble from without caught Rainbow Dash's awareness and stirred her instincts. Her breathing quickened naturally. Short, swift, certain. Rainbow Dash might bitch about oxygenating exercises to Twilight, certain it was unnecessary to the task of going under lavender rump for… however long… For navy, or for white...

The command hit her body without her mind's assessment but with her soul's loving consent. Panting, shuddering breaths, like empty orgasms yet fuller in pleasure still, forced her body to prepare for her sentence beneath the greatest ass of them all.

Sobs or stifled orgasms or simply the pants of a princess realizing she was prey to an older, mightier bearer of the crown? They merged together in desperate need to breathe. Her fingers tightened as best they could against the immovable ruggedness of Mistress Celestia's thigh, clinging to the light as she held her eyes firm shut.

The lungs of a pegasus are one of the few places that tribe can claim strength to equal or exceed an earth pony's, rather than speed, or comparing wingmuscles which the latter do not have. Rainbow Dash flew faster and further and higher than any other pegasus, even before her transcendence in the leading edge of a transcendent rainboom. With the slow, crushing might of earthpower, the magical enhancement of a unicorn, and the energy of her alicornic Spheres flooding her, she turned every last part of her circulation into a geomancy of survival.

All in service to the Grand Solar Butt. And she hadn't even had a chance to stare at that naked majesty for long, yet. She'd longed, and she'd planned, and she'd connived to get to this point-- to that butt. Arrogant, yes, but arrogance due a princess, an Element of Harmony who'd earned her rewards.

But the Dashie who woke up, head dipped below the subspace firmly yet again, felt far more than alicorn and earth pony strength flow back into her limbs. Knew that this was neither a silly 'repayment' nor a reward of a justly proud princess. Her crown was back in the herd locker room, waiting to be taken up again. Here, she was about to service the royal ass because the royalest pony wanted her to-- and had found her worthy.

Eyes still closed, Dashie moaned. "I'm… I'm ready, Mistress. To serve." She felt the sun, the light that casts the rainbow, surge through her, her mistress' approval. As the light filled her, she knew that she was ready, because her mistress made her so.

"Keep your eyes closed for now, Dashie dear," rumbled the soft lowness of her mistress' voice. "Go limp. Let me take care of you before you take care of my needs." Dashie heard the silent 'as far as you can,' and vowed to become as buff and as badass as she could, to do whatever she needed to see those needs met.

(The essential Rainbow Dashness that Harmony found and Celestia loved in her future wife was already planning to push at Twilight and Luna more. Strength came through challenge on both sides, right?)

Slowly, the Princess of Sun rose, letting Dashie's feather-light four hundred pounds of almost pure-muscle mare waft slowly to the mat, right on her still-sore butt. She didn't speak, and as she obeyed, letting her (so-called) muscled slack, she felt the golden radiance of her mistress collect at around her. Move her, hold her.

Dashie relaxed into that hold. Her mistress had her best interests at heart, Dashie knew. She was safe in this. Dashie had a bit less of the claustrophobia than most pegs at this point, of course. Still, her stomach didn't even quiver as the warm magic locked her completely in place, spread-griffon like Bitruvian Mare, wings and arms and legs akimbo.

The air and magic vibrated slightly, in time with her mistress' gait. Just like with Luna, the very world shook when Celestia walked without much care, and it hit Dashie like a thousand tongues set to ludicrous speeds.

She didn't cum, though; discipline had flooded her with the light, and she forced herself to the control her mistress adored

Dashie's wings were scooped around slightly, then brought to rest on the mat. Her tiny fifty-one-inches of spanked-purple blue butt was arranged so her back arched, little D-titties skyward and cold, her nips hard as steel posts. Her shoulders were brought to rest on something so hard that the best steel should be said to be like that.

Her wings were beneath said definitional hardness. Dashie couldn't wriggle much to be sure, but by the tickle in her tertiaries and the lingering compression of magic to secure and safely hold her above the something, Dashie was pretty sure her wings were beneath her mistress' shins. She was bracketed by strength.

All of her, held in place by muscle and magic and care. Her shoulders were cradled against her mistress' Haychilles' tendons. Celestia's divine feet, bare of their usual size-thirty flats or high heels, were angle to carefully slope into supporting Dashie's torso, the slope but a little bumpy where toes gave way to mat.

None of Dashie was let slack. Her head was specially supported, resting atop her divine mistress' divinely powerful calf-muscles. The huge prominences were so big that even set like this, with enough space for the ankles to comfortably hold Dashie's shoulders, they were tight together.

That, and a little bit of golden magic remaining, was the best pillowcase Dashie dared aspire to. Maybe later she'd wonder if she could compare fluttertits or Luna's Moon-tastic arm muscles, but for now? Cradled between the apocalyptic power of her mistress' calves, that was all Dashie dared-- and all she needed.

Abruptly, the command hit Dashie's everything like a whipcrack! "Open your eyes." If she hadn't been prepared and empowered by her mistress, the sound of Celestia's Mistress Sun voice would have made her buck. As it was, her eyes were open the moment the 's' sound ceased, the very moment she wouldn't be presuming.

Her vision was almost full of ass. Mistress Sun was sitting forward-- crouching on… she was down on her knees, and Dashie's mind skittered at the thought. Her knees were just a little bit tighter than ninety degrees, Dashie was sure-- that's why the gorgeous, lush expanses of super-succulent thigh flesh were a part of her field of view.

She had little else; even with Those Thighs spread to accommodate Mistress Sun's design, there was no room between squeezing plushness and enormously hard quads for the artificial lighting of the salle to penetrate.

After all, only three lights mattered here.

First, the light golden glow of Mistress Sun's magic, holding Dashie safe so she could do her duty.

Second, the suggestive twinkle high in the distance. A multicolored shimmer at the cleft where those beautiful, squishy-strong thighs were rubbing together to self-pleasure. There, came the light of Mistress Sun's radiant pussy. Literally radiant, her pubes as glowing and ethereal as her mane, and often hypnotic, Dashie was almost taken in to stare and drool at the addictive femmecum glistening above.

(Addictive, but within tolerances-- Dashie mostly got a heavy buzz and mind-blanking orgasms from the pheromones and not a compulsion or she wouldn't have been allowed here in the first place)

Almost taken, but not quite. Because the third light dominated all, much as Dashie was convinced that only Mistress Moon could even rival Mistress Sun's dominance now. As beautiful as the high princess' ultra-thighs were, as wondrous as the hypnotic, suggestive glow of Princess Pussy covered by an auroric pubic mound would ordinarily have been, they were nothing compared to the Grand Sun Booty.

Jiggly over the breadth but firm where it needed to be, this Ass of Excellence was a thing of gorgeous layers. At the core, toned and tough with hard muscle as the ever-constant, of course. Gravity had no more mastery here than of her tits, so above the tautness, an expanse of white hide over the cushiest tush above, the perfection of smoothness only ever broken by golden cutie marks or an occasional flex of world-crushing glutes… it did glow, somehow. None of the other lights were illuminating it now-- that Perfectionist teardrop rump was brilliant beyond them all.

Or her mistress' anal musk, only slightly less compelling than her pussy-juices, was already putting Dashie's brain into a receptive state.

It could be both.

Probably both.

The reverie of rump was slapped out of Dashie's brain by her mistress' command voice again. "Run a final check on yourself, by magic and by body." Rainbow energy flashed around her captive horn as Dashie did as she was bid. As her everything screamed its readiness to be rode, she tried (and failed) to respond.

It was enough. Apparently, her mistress took her whimpering mewls as confirmation of preparation.

"Since, my little anal toy," growled her muscular mega-mistress, "Your repayment of deep debts will require my power and restraint to permit you to survive, much less please me, I decided to give you a little preview of what your twin courage and hubris has bought you."

Dashie moaned, and if the rest of her body hadn't been firmly under the command of that Voice and that Ass, she might have cum from considering the sight. Thick white fingers pressed into the plush, and Dashie got a view of her mistress' tight little pucker. Beautiful as the rest of her, kept sparkling clean each day, this, too, was every bit as safe as if Mistress Sun had opted to squeeze Dashie's head between her thighs.

A scissors that would powder kaiju and snuff stars would have taken Dashie only to the edge of her endurance, for her mistress' control of herself was, if anything, even greater than her control of Dashie. As long as she loved and was loved, Dashie knew she was safe.

Words somehow made their way to her lips. "Want… want to cum Mistress!" The obedient part of her hated her vocal cords. Just the traitor throat. Dashie couldn't hate the lips and tongue that would hopefully still be allowed to worship that beautiful anal ring. Fierce submission availed her of nothing. She spoke on. "So pretty, so pretty, so powerful, Dashie wants to cum!"

"I know you do, my little anal toy," the growl rolled over her, and Dashie couldn't even whine. She was silenced. "I know you do." There was a brief sigh. "No."

A scream should have sounded in Dashie's mouth. The horror of denial of the immense orgasm her mistress' anus inspired Dashie's body should have shaken her everything.

But, temerity past, she simply couldn't speak any more than she could move. Couldn't even whisper. She was caught. Even if that golden glow left her, she was paralyzed, she knew, except the part of her Celestia wanted to use.

So she waited. Her lips parted slightly, her tongue quivering in waiting.

Then her eyes were full of light, and white. Carefully braced and held, Celestia sat her gigantic white-and-gold ass right down on top of Dashie's drooling face.

Dashie's tongue was working that anus wildly from the moment that Celestia sat. She didn't bother consider anything so little as the full-facial embrace cutting off any breath but her mistress' musk; that scent had long ago quite claimed her brain. She couldn't tell what her princess-- her queen, in the quiet of her soul-- tasted like, to be honest; other than orgasms, heat, and power. She just licked as though her life depended on, pressed her dextrous upper lip and supporting lower to its work.

Her life was safe; her sanity kept in her mistress' control until later. But Dashie nonetheless licked and probed as though her family, her home, if all of Cloudsdale depended on her analingual skills. Mistress Sun was worth it.

Sighing with relief and pleasure fulfilled, Mistress Sun settled back onto the glow of her own magic, and the charming enthusiasms of her subbie-princess' tongue. It was rare that a single slut's performance was enough to even get the edge off the Solar Horniness; usually, it took putting Mistress Moon or Mistress Stars in their places, took making her best beloveds into demure Lulu or bratty Sparkle to get her off, or a night's work by her bedroom cadre.

(Knights of the Bedroom or Knights of the Garter meant something different, though no less honorable, in Equestria. Knights of the Bath specialized more in massage.)

But this Dashie's devotion was something special. Mistress Sun, whether at her harshest persona or being gentle Celestia-Momma-Sun, had sat on some of the most beautiful and talented faces of the last thousand years or so, and the millennia beside her sister before that had been pretty good, too. And as for Dashie's tongue-- "Oohhh," she trilled, and squeezed her thighs a bit more.

Dashie's tongue was worthy.

And as much as Mistress Sun might fiercely treat the slightest failure, she no less fiercely rewarded worth.

Besides, she already had the sweet little slut's horn between her legs. Time again to remind Dashie of the other pleasures of an alicorn.

Mistress Sun's huge quadricep muscles rippled, squeezing and doing better than a professional whorse's handjob to wank the Princess of Storms' captive horn. Kept captive by Mistress Sun's will, of course, there was no horngasm, but Dashie's tongue got even better in its imitation of a vibrator. Just like Mistress Sun desired.

This might not be the sort of rimming that Lulu or Sparkle gave, but Mistress Sun was suddenly rather cheekily aware that fate or destiny or Harmony had given her not only strong herdsisters and potential future wives, but excellent submissives, talented, and well-able to endure what would leave even her bespelled best personal stable of the toughest of her little ponies wiped out for a week after.

It wasn't everything she wanted. Not yet. She had plans, though. Plans that would take time, and power, and ritual to make all of them, from Luna to Twilight to, yes, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy into the monuments of power that Princess Celestia could happily transfer some of the weight of the world onto, and Celestia the always fucking horny could happily finally get off.

Plans, indeed, that would let her receive such a superb rimming slightly more frequently than once a year or month or week, depending on the alicorn seatcushion-to-be.

Because while Dashie was giving her a fine suite of edge-dulling microgasms-- and might even get her over the hill when Celestia's final reward went through-- it wasn't enough to really bring her across like a lover could. Only Luna, and increasingly Twilight, came there. And Celestia couldn't focus on them, really get herself truly wet and bothered, because, well…

She sighed, and squeezed Dashie again, this time with glutes and calves, manipulating the captive alicorn into still-faster, still-better anal worship. Then slowly, like her beloved sun rising, she curled her left arm back to its terrifying peak. Slowly, slowly… Mistress Sun nodded approvingly at her reflection, enjoying the sight and mentally verifying her form as she posed her face-dominating and bicep-bulking perfectly.

It was a lovely sight. The humble part of Celestia was definitely repressed when sitting on a fellow alicorn's face and projecting Mistress Sun with all her might. Expansion kept its steady course, and slowly, the one-hundred-and-ten inch circumference rose like an iceberg finding its buoyancy. Then she let other senses come into play; the deep powers of transcendence that let her find just the right spot on that ultra-taut hide, just the right point above a nerve ending.

Mistress Sun kissed her own bicep, like she might naughtily tease one of Lulu's lovely eight-five inchers, and felt the shuddering cascade of sensation blast through her. A wave of pleasure that would have knocked out the alicorn under her ass for a week gave Mistress Sun a vaguely lovely tingle, got her pussy moist but not quite quivering.

She shifted her hold on Dash again. Wished again that anatomy would let her pussy-ride that pretty little horn, let her cunt devour a horngasm or two while getting an anal ride. But it couldn't, and fondling herself through flexing thighs was a decent enough accompaniment to having her ass tongued by an enhanced expert.

But the source of that enhancement was the same as the pleasure of the kiss. Her power; her will. Which is what all of these sessions became except her dearest two-- and would for at least Sparkle, if she didn't space them out clit-maddeningly long.

It was, functionally, masturbation. At this point, even if Dashie could speak, it would be echoes. Had been. Dashie was a well trained subbie, after all, but Mistress Sun's sense of BDSM drama included a little breaking here and there, and she'd wanted Dashie to squeal and beg to be allowed to cum.

Because the dominant part of her, the hyper-hyper-hyper of the eldest alicorn, wanted to make that no. And so, Dashie had done, because Mistress Sun willed.

It made her want to spend more time with her Sparkle or her sister than might have been strictly safe. To have a partner, a true power exchange-- that was without peer in pleasure. Willing surrender that then became captive will… Close, with one as powerful as the Princess of Storms. But.

Still… "Oh, yes!" she groaned. Much of it might be little different than fucking her own telekinetic glow up her butt, but there were little flicks and twists, little unexpected changes that made her Dashie-seat an excellent change of pace. She had two rewards in mind.

It would take rather more than five seconds, but Dashie had accepted the interest. Mistress Sun would reward the pet with release once, even while punishing her with a later denial--

No way I'm putting one of my Elements, my co-princesses through this for another year or two, sadly. Better order more supplies for my cake specialists--

But once Dashie's tongue did as Dashie's tonguing promised, and got her off just a skosh, Mistress Sun would teleport her 'round about in front, and let her thighs claim Dashie's body… and her pussy claim Dashie's horn.

Then she'd let the little twat cum her heart out. She wouldn't remember it, but Celestia would, and Luna usually honored her requests to let their herd-sisters dream it out.

Even still, as more and more of her Solar aura and penumbra pulsed over a partner who could survive the lovemaking but was a toy only in the practice, it became brief flickers of moments even for Mistress Sun.

Even for poor, millennia-long aroused, horny Celestia.

Enough gravity could deform time, and did, a skipping, warping series of sensations.

Dashie's tongue drilled away; her lips kissed asshole lovingly.

The plan went flawlessly. The microclimax was sweet.

As good as Mistress Sun could hope to expect.

Dashie's horn sent rainbow energy straight into the greedy clutch of Mistress Sun's core, as well. Filling as well as fulfilling, briefly.

Carrying her well-filled and well-fucked rump-worshipper towards the showers, later--

so much Princess Musk wasn't safe to wear even within wards, let alone double the princesses involved--

Now that Dashie had finished the climaxes of several lifetimes... Now that the quivering, pleasure-filled Elemental Alicorn was done shooting up as much magic for Mistress Sun's pussy to drain and dominate as Celestia would permit her Rainbow Dash to do…

Then, Celestia gave a repeat treat. Much more gently, she fed Dashie as much of her milk as the lovely little mare could handle.

And now, a re-crowning, Celestia told herself firmly. Need to remind her she's a princess, so after she's through with this… after we're through with this, my herd still has its Dashie, and she isn't lost to the heavenly press.

It was only later, with Rainbow Dash sent back to her apartments in the castle to sleep it off, and her Luna and her Twilight caught firm between her gigantic arms and even more giant tits, that Celestia pondered the future, and plans. Of hoping, that one day, when she took a favored lover to bedsport, it wouldn't take three of the best and a whole squad of futas in cheerleading outfits in the middle to get her close enough to off to last a day or so.

She kissed the tip of a deep navy blue horn, then a lavender one, loving the slight spark and boob-pleasing squirm of her hardest of hard ladies, the second and third strongest alicorns-- and indeed inhabitants-- of Epona, of their whole world.

Well, perhaps. Celestia and Luna had accepted an offer not too long ago that-- should their training and Twilight's education do its job-- would put another at the heights of strength. Possibly even enough heights for the other type of press Celestia prefered.

Not the heavenly press of asscheeks over face as Dashie had gotten and Twily had demanded her fair share. Celestia usually did not sub, had not subbed in centuries. Even if she did-- and she only would, to be blunt, with a kept dom who knew their place was different in the bed versus out-- she had entirely different delights she wished to press against in those contexts. It was a bit arrogant, but Celestia had plans, and those plans involved not a heavenly press, but a Celestial press.

A Celestial bench press, or a Celestial leg press?

…

No. Probably squats. Yes, she thought as Luna's insistent dream magic took her into rest (and Luna's turn on top and doing the flipping work), I like squat presses. I just need the right weights.