Discipline & Pleasure

It’s over.

Diamond Tiara hurled the letter away, recoiling in shock. The message, a paper accomplice unaware of its own life-shattering power, drifted lazily to the carpet below. Rushing to the window, she threw it open to let in the warm evening air. Ponyville twinkled below her, tempting her with all the mysteries of a world made new.

It was over. She was free. No messy argument with Silvy, no lying or cheating, just her, Rarity, and the future.

Rarity. Would she mind if her charming pupil showed up at her doorstep, so soon after she’d left, to announce the arrival of something so new and wonderful? Diamond doubted it.

Her scattered thoughts began to collect themselves, those joyous speeding neurons set in motion by the letter gelling to form a makeshift plan. If she told her father she was going to a sleepover... where? Certainly not Silvy’s. And where else would she be going?

Leaning out the window, a giddy thrill ran up her back as she pictured herself trotting downstairs, not even pausing as she passed her father in the den.

“And where do you think you’re going at this time of night, young lady?”

“I’m going out. Oh, and don’t bother setting the alarm, I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Diamond shook her head, chuckling even as she dismissed the forbidden fantasy. There was no way short of sneaking out that she was leaving the house that night. Her thoughts went back to Rarity - pale, beautiful Rarity, bathed in moonlight as she left the Boutique only a little while before.

Hopping up on the bed, she lay back, closing her eyes, her mind wandering where she could not. She could see the unicorn again, imagine the look of surprise at finding Diamond at her doorstep so late at night.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. Does that mean-”. The question was cut off by Diamond’s eager lips.

She spread her rear legs, her most sensitive flesh already tingling. Biting her lip, she let her hoof drift to just above her teats, savoring the discomfort of temptation. It would feel better with Rarity. It always did.

“It’s all taken care of. It’s over.” She kissed Rarity again, pushing her tongue into her mouth. It was a strong kiss, unbound by any of the emotional chains that had bound her the past weeks. In Rarity’s mouth, she tasted all the joy and sweetness of freedom.

Her imagination spilled over onto the bed, giving Diamond’s hoof a will of its own and setting it on a journey over the warm plain of her abdomen. As it crested the gentle hills of her teats, she moaned in excitement. Rarity had said that she didn’t have to wait, after all.

“But how?”

The question lent Rarity’s eyes a playful curiosity, waiting for her to say the right words before letting her sink into the endless embrace of those shimmering blue pools. Diamond pushed the unicorn back into the midnight doorway of the shop.

Clenching her rear legs, she pushed her slit against her hoof. The filly whined as her body caught fire again, all of the pressure that had built up over the last hour rushing back.

“Later. I want my reward.”

She hit the statement like a wet patch of mud, skidding and slipping out of her fantasy. Opening her eyes, the heat in her body poured out, leaving the pressure of unmet needs as a bad aftertaste. Sitting up, she looked to the floor, where Silvy’s note lay discarded.

“Fuck,” she spat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Pouncing upon the hateful piece of paper, she stamped all her frustration into it. Her reward? For what? For lucking out and getting a breakup letter instead of another threat? If Silvy still thought she was sleeping with Rarity, who knew what she’d do? Diamond hadn’t taken care of anything.

“Diamond?” Her father’s voice came from down the hall.

“What?” she yelled in response.

“Everything okay in there?”

“Yeah, Dad, it’s fine.”

She began to pace, trying to clear her head and formulate another escape route, something to take the venom from the poisoned page.

It was no use. The apology, that precise tool for her liberation, was useless - Rarity had given her a sewing needle when she needed a hammer. Two clumsy words had thrown out any hope of resolving anything in - how had the unicorn put it? - an ‘amicable manner’. Never mind salvaging their friendship. Silvy had fucked it up for both of them.

Not Silvy. Me. I fucked up.

She stopped pacing, letting herself digest the revelation. It was my fault! With the admission of guilt came a sense of relief - if she had fucked up, she could do something about it. She was in control again.

Hopping up on the bed again, she raked over the events of the afternoon. She had tried to stonewall Silvy, losing control of her temper in the process and embarrassing herself in public. She’d stormed out of their surprise meeting with an angry ultimatum that left little room for bargaining. But in the end, Silvy hadn’t told her father anything.

Closing her eyes, Diamond latched onto that thought, holding it tight as she lay down. Her body was tingling again, alive with the busy anticipation of a plan forming in her mind. Underneath the threats, Silvy was still her friend. It would just take some convincing to make her see that. She was still planning when sleep took her.

She awoke to the expectant singing of birds outside the window she’d left open. Eyes held closed, Diamond lay like a live wire, waiting, breathing, tense with the thought that the little sleep she'd managed had been time wasted, a distraction from planning and acting. At the slamming of the front door, she shot into the bathroom. Despite the uncanny cleanliness she still felt from the unicorn’s scrubbing down, she wasn’t about to repeat the mistake she’d made entering the boutique the day before. Every hair needed to be in place, every particle of dust and dirt removed, her body projecting confidence.

Mane and coat immaculate, she shrugged on her saddlebag and affixed her tiara. She trotted downstairs, the lingering scents of coffee and toast reminded her stomach that she was overdue for a proper meal. Hunger was beginning to win out over the excitement and fear that had shriveled her stomach since she'd read Silvy's letter. Shooting a glance to the fridge, she forced herself out the door. Breakfast would be her reward for pushing herself into town.

She breathed in the day as she stepped outside. The sun was up, but the street still slept, filled with the early-morning silence that followed her father to his store, anticipating the arrival of customers still in their beds. Cobblestones perspired in stoic silence, the dew-spirits floating above them warning of yet another scorching summer day ahead. The world was holding its breath, waiting on Diamond to make her move.

Cantering through the misty streets, she cast a sidelong glance towards the yellow house brooding on the corner before she continued downtown. She’d considered going to Silvy directly, but an apology on her friend’s home turf seemed a bit too generous, given the context of their last chat. No, she needed to catch Silvy in public, and she knew just the place.

The line outside of Sugarcube Corner snaked its way out the door and halfway around the block. Stomach rumbling, Diamond joined in. Ponies marched into the bakery with an erratic excitement, surging forward only to grind to a halt for minutes at a time a few feet later.

As she waited, Diamond immersed herself in the torrent of sights and scents of the plaza during rush hour, letting her thoughts get lost among the bustle that surrounded her. Ponies jostled with each other as they pushed into the few cafes and restaurants open at that hour, the earthy scents of coffee and fried dough enticing them like the calls of the late-summer carnival barkers that would echo from the outskirts of town in a few weeks as they celebrated the end of the season. The press excited her - it reminded her of the times she'd traveled to Manehattan and Fillydelphia with her father, trotting through crowds so big she felt she could get lost among them, ponies moving with purposeful strides on their way to meetings, work, concert halls.

She was convinced that her destiny lay in a place where the buildings rose as high as her dreams. Ponyville was more of a playground - any town that could get so hot and bothered over stories of inept parenting and tail extensions was too small for her. She could only imagine what would happen if word of her affair got out. Lies, blackmail, kinky sex, a secret lover - it all lent an undue maturity to the whole mess, turning it from a petty fight between friends to tabloid headlines. Maybe the self-destruction of Gabby Gums had been a blessing in disguise. Featherweight had an uncanny ability to find dirt on other ponies, and she could just picture the overwrought headline, almost dripping from the front page: Tiara tied up in a torrid triangle of love -- literally! Silver Spoon speaks!

She was trying to decide how dirty the front-page photo of her might be when she found herself at the head of the line. Pinkie emerged panting from the back of the bakery toting a towering tray of assorted breads, her coat covered in a batter of flour and sweat.

“Hey there, Diamond! What can I get for you? The usual? Or do you wanna hear about today’s extra-specials?”

“Extra-specials?”

“Yes indeedy! We ran out of specials a couple minutes ago, so all we have left is extra-specials, and extra-extra specials.” The grin Pinkie wore assured her at least one of them understood what she’d just said.

“What are the extra-specials?” Diamond’s curiosity got the best of her, putting her in violation of Rule Number One of Sugarcube Corner: do not, under any circumstances, ask Pinkie about the specials.

“So glad you asked!” The baker’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement. “We’ve got Appaloosan Apple-cado Avalanche - that one’s limited-time only. Blueberry Butterscotch Banana Buns - those just came out of the oven, so they’re really, really fresh. Chilled Crystal City Cappuccino, Double-Drizzled Date Doughnuts...”

The list rambled on with no end in sight. Diamond could hear the ponies behind her muttering and scuffing their hooves in frustration.

“Pinkie...” She tried to cut in, to no avail. She was being bowled over again, just like the day before in the dress shop.

“...Half-Baked Hazelnut Homefries...”

“Pinkie!” Diamond’s voice snapped like a crop against tender flesh. Sharp and firm, but just loud enough to get the other pony's attention and halt the onslaught of edibles. She could hear Rarity in her tone.

“Yes, Diamond?”

“Just- could you just give me the usual? And one of those buns. Please.”

“Okey-dokey-lokey, coming right up!” Before the customer behind her could say a word, Pinkie had darted into the back room again.

Diamond scanned the room, cautious eyes completing their circuit without running into any ponies who thought they knew her well enough to bother her while she waited. It was the perfect location - Silvy, ever a creature of habit, would be along eventually for her hot chocolate and doughnut. And there would be Diamond, waiting to have a most un-habitual chat about the letter she’d received.

“Diamond Tiara, you just got served!”

Her meal sat steaming expectantly to the side of the counter - a bowl of steel-cut oatmeal drizzled with honey, a cup of persimmon tea, and one very blue bun dripping in butterscotch. The breakfast of champions - breakfast of the champion.

“How much?”

“What?” Pinkie cocked her head, looking at her as if she were speaking another language.

“For the food?”

“Oh, don't worry about it.”

“What?”

“The price, silly. Don’t worry about it. You’re all taken care of. Student discount!” The baker winked at her before rushing back to a frazzled-looking customer. “Now, where was I? Oh, yeah! Half-Baked Hazelnut Homefries...”

Student discount. That was new. A little politeness, a firm hoof, and she got a free meal - Rarity’s lessons were paying off already.

Weaving through the crowded shop, Diamond found an empty table and dug in, the warmth of the gifted meal spreading through her body and relaxing the lingering butterflies from the previous night’s panic. For the first time in weeks, she felt something like her old confidence creeping back.

The plan was simple - just get Silvy’s attention. The rest would follow from there.

And if she won’t talk to you? Diamond sat back, sipping her tea. The question was academic, putting her tired mind through the paces. If Silvy wouldn’t talk with her? That was where the apology would come in - the bait for the hook with which she would reel her friend into the conversation.

Silvy would be angry, of course. She might even try to provoke Diamond again, like she had in the café. But Diamond Tiara was prepared for that, too. Raising her chin, she looked down her nose at the garish blue bun occupying her plate. I don’t appreciate your tone. Let’s try to be civil about this. I understand that you’re upset, but you must understand...

With a smile, she bit into the bun, coating her tongue in the sticky sweetness of her impending victory. Rarity was a genius. The apology, staying cool under pressure - through the dressmaker’s keen eye, everything was so focused, so precise, cutting through life’s problems like so much ribbon.

Meal finished, Diamond set her plate aside and threw open her saddlebag for the final prop: a book entitled ‘See, I Wasn’t Just Sitting Here Waiting For You All Morning: The Diamond Tiara Story’.

Damn it.

The Young Mare’s Guide to Etiquette stared out from her bag, glowering in admonishment for her unspoken curse. The filly glowered right back. As careful as Diamond thought she was being in her preparations, her life was a perpetual series of loose ends.

Dropping the tome to the table with an unceremonious thud, she flipped through its ponderous yellow pages, settling on the diagram of some archaic dinner table. Her eyes skated over the reams of notes dissecting its self-important anatomy, justifying her frustration in the process.

Oh well. At least Silvy might take it as a sign that she wasn’t just going over to Rarity’s to hook up with the unicorn. Sometimes she had to do homework as well.

After minutes of turning pages at random and glancing at the entrance to the shop, something caught her eye. Marring the corner of one of the pages, in small, cribbed writing, were the words this sucks. A succinct rejoinder to what must have been over a thousand meticulously-written pages. The filly wondered at the scrawl. Written by some kindred spirit, no doubt, some unlucky filly forced to suffer through the tedium of Primrose Pennyweather’s withered prose, and almost certainly without the unique incentives offered to Diamond. A lone protest in a sea of rules and regulations, its terse conviction fell flat against her new sense of wary uncertainty.

Look where that attitude got me. She found herself sneering at the words. If she’d just had Rarity’s poise during her argument with Silvy, the whole mess she was in then could have been avoided. No, it was time to put aside foalish ways once and for all.

“One hot chocolate and one Double-Drizzled Date Doughnut for one Silver Spoon!”

Pinkie’s announcement shocked her out of her reverie. Looking up, she saw her friend at the counter, retrieving the aforementioned order and returning to a table near the wall where two other ponies sat.

Snips and Twist? Oh, Silvy. Had she sunk that low? As if feeling the weight of Diamond's judgement, Silvy looked back, staring straight at her. Diamond’s eyes shot back down to the table, fumbling with the book in an attempt to look busy.

What was that? The look on Silver Spoon’s face wasn’t anger, and certainly wasn’t sadness. It was... nothing. As if she hadn’t been staring at her, but through her.

It’s over. No longer a joyous release but an elegy, the tolling of a funeral bell. Isolated in the middle of Sugarcube Corner, the filly shivered. That look was about the meanest thing Silvy could have done, short of announcing Diamond’s relationship with Rarity to the bakery.

The words rang in her ears as she propped the book up between herself and the offending spectacle. All those messy feelings of friendship and relationship, sorted with anesthetic neatness in the sterile environment of her bedroom, came crashing together again. She wanted to run over to the other table, to scream, to do anything to make Silvy look at her and see her.

Diamond took a breath, trying to kick the rational part of her brain into gear. Where had all her confidence gone? What would Rarity do? Probably not charge over to that table and yell at the pony she was supposed to be apologizing to, much less harangue her... companions.

All she needed was one opportunity to get her friend’s attention. She peered over the edge of the book again, watching as Silvy and her new friends chatted and laughed together and letting her anticipation dull the sharp pain of distance and loneliness.

After an eon of page-turning and tea-sipping, she saw her window of opportunity. The losers left to go to the bathroom, leaving Silvy alone as she finished the last of her breakfast. Dropping the book into her saddlebag, she approached her target. Silver Spoon leaned over her place-mat doodling idle pink flowers.

Slipping into a chair next to the gray mare with an ease that belied the rough pounding in her chest, she launched her opening salvo.

“Silvy! Hey! What’s up?”

Silvy raised her head, spitting the crayon in her mouth onto the table in front of Diamond with a scowl.

“Nothing.”

Contact. It wasn’t the end of the world, at least not yet. Repressing a smile from her small victory, Diamond pushed forward.

“So, Snips and Twist, huh? Decided to slum it today?”

“They’re my friends, Di. You know, some of us have those? Where are yours? Oh, right, nowhere.”

Friends? Diamond bit her tongue as a number of choice insults about Silvy’s personal life burned in her throat. Cool and collected. Think of Rarity. Shrugging off the jab, she tried a more direct approach.

“I got your letter. Could we talk about that?”

For a moment, Silvy’s stare faltered, eyes slipping from Diamond towards the bathroom door.

“What’s there even to talk about? I thought it was pretty clear. I’m done. We’re done. You go on--” Silver Spoon winced at the bitterness of her words, “fucking Rarity. I don’t care.”

Diamond winced in return, stopping herself from looking around the room to see who’d heard that. Instead, she went in for the kill. Leaning in, she rested her hoof upon her friend’s. “Silvy, I need to tell you--”.

“No, Di, I don’t wanna hear it.” Silvy yanked herself away with enough force to upset the glass next to her, tears of water ruining the place-mat. “You already ‘told me’ enough. You think you know everything, but you don’t. I just-- you’re gonna pay for it someday.”

The losers were on their way back. Emboldened by her imminent rescue, Silvy sniffed and began to get up.

“Silvy, I’m sorry! I’ll tell you everything!” She shouted loud enough for half the bakery to hear.

Silver Spoon froze, looking at her with a kind of curious pity, as if she had just announced the death of her pet and offered to explain what happened in graphic detail. Turning, she addressed the losers.

“I’ll catch up with you two later, I need to talk with Diamond.”

“Can we go somewhere else? If you don’t mind.”

“I guess.” Silvy paused, debating how much she minded. “But I get to choose.”

“Fine.”

Diamond followed Silvy out of the bakery, shrugging past the customers littering the floor of the shop and attempting to pull together what remained of her previous confidence.

Ponyville had transformed while she was indoors - gone were the crowds outside Sugarcube Corner, replaced by shoppers inspecting the offerings of ever-patient vendors in an attempt to beat the morning heat. Diamond kept pace with her friend, walking beside her in an attempt to avoid the feeling of being led.

Her stomach lurched as they approached the schoolhouse, bringing back memories of her relapse the day before. He believed all that stuff about Humbolt. Sighing, she let it go - if the petty choice of locations helped put Silvy at ease, she would suck it up.

The benches in the schoolyard were deserted - lonely monuments to the season abandoned by fickle rears of the town’s fillies and foals.

“Well,” Silvy started, then halted as she sat down. Diamond said nothing, letting the word hang between them, waiting for it to take on substance.

“Well?” Silvy found her voice again, stabbing at Diamond with the word. “Well? How long have you been sleeping with her, Di? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“I’m not sleeping with her.”

“Diamond--”.

“Look, Silvy, you need to listen to me, please,” she pleaded. The confrontation in the bakery had thrown her off-balance, and she struggled to take control of the conversation. “I’m not sleeping with her. I’m not. I wouldn’t do that to you. But you’re not wrong, either. I... I like her.”

“You like her? That’s it?” Silvy stared at her, bewildered, trying to absorb what she’d just heard. Folding her forelegs over her chest, she shook her head as if to dismiss the force of Diamond’s confession. “No, I know what I felt, I know what I heard. Where were you last night?”

“What do you mean?” Diamond racked her tired brain, struggling to think. How could she know?

“When I brought the letter over, your Dad said you weren’t home. Were you with her?”

“Oh, uh...,” she feigned out of habit, a dozen excuses springing up. I was taking a walk. I was eating out. I was none of your business.

Tell her. Just enough of the truth. The gentle voice of reason - Rarity’s voice - spoke above them all. The unicorn was there, at the schoolhouse, still guiding her. Drawing a breath, she crossed the threshold.

“Yes. Yes, I was with her.” Ignoring the shocked look on Silvy’s face, she continued, “Remember, when we talked? You threatened me? All that stuff about going to my father? Well, you threatened her too. I had to tell her.”

“What did she say?” Thrown off by her admission, Silvy’s fury was beginning to temper, and the question was tinged with caution.

“Well, she wasn’t happy, as you might expect. I had to talk her out of going to your parents and getting you in trouble.”

“You like her.” Silvy repeated, as if she just then understood what Diamond had been telling her. “Does she know?”

“She does now. I hadn’t told her anything, and wasn’t gonna, but after what you said, I had to.”

“If you weren’t sleeping with her... you liked her and me at the same time? That’s gross, Di! How could you?”

“I know.” I had to.

“None of this would’ve happened if you’d just been honest with me!”

“I know.” I couldn’t have been.

“You... you lied to me!”

Outburst over, Silvy collapsed onto the table, burying her face in her hooves. Diamond saw her chance. Leaning forward, her hoof came to rest on Silvy's foreleg, soft, not insistent - letting her touch soften the ground for her words.

"I'm sorry, Silvy."

Silver Spoon looked up, not pulling away, leaving Diamond stretched over the table.

“Are you gonna keep having class with her?”

The question caught her off-guard - she may as well have been asking about the weather.

“I- Well, yeah, I guess so. I can’t just quit, I made a commitment.”

“I’m worried about you, Di. She's changing you. Or you’re changing for her. And it sucks. When Humbolt--”.

“This is nothing like Humbolt,” Diamond hissed before she caught herself, recalling too late that she, rather than her lingering anger from the day before, was supposed to be steering the conversation. She pulled her hoof away as if she'd been burned, and Silvy's back straightened, on edge again, waiting - perhaps even hoping for this strange new Diamond Tiara she'd encountered in Sugarcube Corner to lash out and unmask the rude, abrasive filly she'd grown up with.

Humbolt again. How long would that name haunt her? And how small Silvy looked, leaning towards her, bleeding anticipation and anger, trying to goad her again. But should she have expected anything less? Whether Diamond was sleeping with Rarity or not was irrelevant now. The unicorn had touched Diamond Tiara in a way that Silver Spoon never could, and her friend was not gracious in defeat. It was part of her nature, and no amount of apologies would change that.

I was never yours, Silvy, and I'm not Rarity's. I don't belong to anyone. She wanted abrasive? Diamond could give it to her in spades. Of course Silvy had asked whether she'd continue her classes. Having laid down her threats, all she had left was cowardice. She was as flimsy as tissue paper, and Diamond could tear her apart with a few simple words. I never loved you, and never will. Not in the way you want me to. It was acid on her tongue. She clenched her jaw until her teeth ached, sucking in a breath of air as she stared at the table instead of her friend.

You can have your anger, or your friendship, a calmer, more mature voice chided. Haven't you done enough to her? She was surprised to realize it was her own voice as much as Rarity's. She had apologized, whether it was accepted or not, and she could refuse to rise to this bait, too. Rarity would not only have Diamond, but a different Diamond. One without so many of the sharp edges that Silvy had tried so hard to smooth out over the years.

Her jaw relaxed, and she blinked away the sting of tears in her eyes. Taking another breath, she swallowed the last of her anger. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve got it under control. Nothing’s gonna happen between us. If I’m changing, it’s for me, not her.”

“I hope so, for your sake.” Silvy sounded tired, as though it was her and not Diamond who was burdened by all the unsaid things between them. For a moment, they were back on Diamond's bed right after their argument. There was Silvy, weary and wounded because of something her friend was only vaguely aware of, tripping again on the many invisible threads connecting Diamond to that other, secret life at the Carousel Boutique.

The memory pricked Diamond, stirring the slippery, unpleasant feelings of pity and regret she'd felt on Saturday night. Studying Silvy's foreleg, Diamond could see the shadow of the bruise left by her over-reaction to her 'joke'.

My fault. But she could feel her own wounds as well, still raw from Silvy's provocations. Both of them sat bleeding in the schoolyard, hurt by a conversation that had barely taken place. Her apology felt thin in comparison, a shallow and calculated resolution to a safe argument she’d built from half-truths, wearing tact like a straitjacket. She wanted to scream at Silvy for threatening her the day before, for dredging up all those awful, sickening memories she thought she’d escaped. She wanted to cry, to expose everything, to let her know how much she’d actually hurt her, and burn up in the righteous heat of her fury. And most of all, she wanted to throw open the blinds on her secret life and expose it in all its blinding, painful beauty.

But she couldn’t. Rarity trusted her not to - she could feel it in the back of her mind and in her haunches, the distant, fuzzy feeling of arousal. The responsibility she’d carried with her since her session with the unicorn. Her reminder that, as bad as things were, she always had a choice.

“Was there anything else?” Reluctance was painted all over Silver Spoon’s face. The question was obligatory, the reflex of a recent-but-former partner trying to keep things on good terms. She could already see the other filly disappearing beyond the polite distance between them.

“You’re right,” she choked out, “About all of it. I fucked up, and hurt you, and you didn't deserve it. Are we still friends?”

“Yeah, Di, we are.” Silvy grimaced, looking away. When she turned back to Diamond, her eyes shone with tears. “But I’m gonna need some time, okay?”

Diamond's throat tightened with anguish. She blinked again, trying to head off more tears, but her eyes were barren, a desert. Everything was bottled up inside, sealed so tight that her chest ached as if she had been holding her breath too long.

Silver Spoon turned away again, and Diamond heard her choke back a sob as she got up to leave. Something opened up to Diamond at that moment - a picture of her friend so painful in its clarity she winced, though she would not look away for fear of losing it. She no longer looked weak and petty, but free; free and beautiful. Diamond had often dismissed her vulnerability for weakness, but in Silvy’s tears she now saw a kind of reckless courage as well. A willingness to do what Diamond had refused to do: to say what she felt, and in doing so open herself up to all that pain that Diamond had thought she could avoid. All that pain that she now carried with her.

Silvy was gone before Diamond's vision cleared. Off to other friends, other projects, a whole other life that Diamond could only imagine as she sat at the picnic table, alone.

Shrugging on her saddlebag, the filly slouched. She remained like that, in the center of the schoolyard, eyes closed as she tested the load on her back. Her muscles tensed, and for a moment it seemed like she would throw the whole pack off. Below her, two tiny plumes of dust rose into the stolid summer air, kicked up by two lonely tears that were neither acknowledged nor followed. Then, straightening her legs with a grunt, she shoved the last few hours into the corner of her mind, to take their place in the sizable array of secrets she’d amassed in the past few weeks, and dragged herself towards the Carousel Boutique.

As she cut through the outskirts of Ponyville proper, she tried to recover some of the anticipation she’d felt in her bedroom the night before. She’d been out of sorts since her session with Rarity, and now that she’d taken care of things with Silvy, her messy emotions were too close to the surface. Everypony had their own burdens to carry, even if hers was larger than average. She would just have to get used to it.

Still, the weight on her back chafed. And when she saw the Carousel Boutique, it chafed all the more. There, finally, were those promised blue doors, the flag topping its lofty peak waving her in, heralding her arrival. But what lay inside? All that beauty hidden behind those doors, an undiscovered country of passion most ponies could only dream of, locked up and hidden away, and her emotions along with it.

Knocking on the door, she realized she was frowning, and adjusted her lips accordingly, as Rarity had done for her friends the day before. Something to say, see, everything’s fine. She could take care of her worries later.

The door crept open, and her frown returned. Peering from inside the shop were the apprehensive green eyes of Rarity’s blank-flank sister.

“Uh... Diamond Tiara? What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk with Rarity.”

“Oh, um, well, she’s not here right now. But she said she’d be back around one...” Sweetie Belle trailed off, and the wooden barrier moved a hair’s breadth closer.

Diamond hesitated. She wasn’t looking forward to barging in on Rarity’s life again, much less the renewed risk of being bowled over by that spastic pink baker. But the thought of returning home with her thoughts and that pressure between her thighs was worse.

“I think I’ll wait for her here.”

“Well, um, she told me not to let anyone in until she got back...”

The door began creeping forward again. Diamond stepped forward, letting her hoof rest against it. “She’ll be expecting me, for class stuff. It’s important.”

Sweetie hung in the doorway, glancing back inside as if she were debating running away. “Well, um, I guess.”

Moving past the other filly, she entered the front room and tossed her bag onto the couch. As she hopped up to take a seat, however, she noticed Sweetie studying her, a pained expression on her face.

“Yes?”

“I was sitting there.” Sweetie scuffed her hoof on the floor.

“Yeah? Well that’s....” she trailed off, feeling the weight on her back again. “Fine. Sorry.”

Stepping back from the couch, she grabbed her bag and tried to ignore the shocked look on the other filly’s face.
You’re changing for her.

Tossing her belongings down once again, she moved to the only other seat in the room. The hard wood of stool’s seat chafed her already raw pride.

It’s Rarity’s dumb sister, I’m a guest in her home. If we were anywhere else, I’d... her thoughts hit a wall. She’d what? Yell at her? Push her around? She’d always be Rarity’s sister.

She’s changing you.

Retreating from her thoughts, Diamond pulled out Pennyweather’s weighty tome. She flipped through the pages until she found the graffiti again, buried deep within a twenty-page dissertation on posture.

This does suck.

Why couldn’t a pony just walk as they pleased? Why couldn’t they just yell at their friends when they were angry at them? Was this really how Rarity lived her life? Diamond had imagined being an adult as something empowering - no teachers to discipline you, no parents to keep you in at night or force you into ridiculous outfits. And yet, there was Rarity, smiling for her friends when she was upset and lowering the shades every time she came over.

Her anger spiked as her frustration grew. She was tired, uncomfortable, and she wanted her seat on the fucking couch.

“Hey blank-flank--”.

Looking up, she paused. Sweetie was cowering behind the book sitting in front of her, ears flat as she awaited Diamond’s inevitable wrath. It was the cover of the book that caught her attention, the outline of a unicorn robed in stars, and above, the title, Clover: Mare, Myth and Legend.

“Uh, Sweetie Belle, how’s that book?”

“It’s... good?”

Clover the Clever! Memories awoke in her mind, the stories of Diamond’s youth, resurrected at a glance. And with them, something else, something she’d seen in Silvy that morning, a vulnerability she’d done her best to dismiss beneath the sediment of time and bitterness.

“Have you read The Eight Trials? Did you like them?”

“Yeah... a while ago,” Sweetie ventured, still hiding behind the book. “It was okay, but-”.

“Which was your favorite?”

“Um, I don’t know, the Trial of Fire, maybe? I--”.

“That one’s pretty good, but the Trial of Heart was the best. Like when Clover tricked the Changeling Queen into telling her the Secret of Love’s Essence? And when she befriends the Windigoes to rescue Princess Platinum from evil Lord Monochromicorn? That was so cool. Can you imagine?”

She was rambling, but she didn’t care. As she talked, she came alive again. The strained muscles on her back and face relaxed as she projected the torrent of feelings she'd been holding back all morning onto Starswirl and Clover. The words carried her back through time, and for a few minutes, she felt like she was talking with Silvy again, their friendship still fresh and unspoiled by the trials of growing older.

Having given up on trying to get a word in, the younger filly was left to sit back and watch, wide-eyed, still shielded by her book as if worried that Diamond's transformation would turn out to be some sort of elaborate trap. The filibuster rambled on and on until it was finally interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Hey, Sweetie Belle! Ya in here?" The door opened for the only filly that had come close to the rank of ‘arch-nemesis’ in Diamond’s book. The stream of words cut off and Diamond blushed, feeling exposed. True to her role, Apple Bloom gaped in horror.

“Diamond Tiara? What’re you doing here?”

“We were just... talking about books,” Sweetie Belle interjected with uncertainty, unfreezing from the couch to greet her friend. As she crossed the room she glanced at Diamond with suspicion, eyes darting away again when she noticed she was being watched.

“Talking? ‘We’?” Apple Bloom’s glare shifted from Diamond to Sweetie. “Why is she here?”

“She said she’s meeting Rarity for something.”

The bumpkin eyed Diamond up, then motioned her friend towards the back of the room. As the fillies retreated behind one of the heavy magenta curtains hanging from the ceiling, Diamond remained on the stool, trying to process what had just happened. She caught snippets of not-so-subtle whispering - “kept talking,” “really strange,” “being nice”.

She jumped off the stool, hurtling across the room as if by reflex. Diamond Tiara wasn’t nice to blank-flanks, no matter whose sisters they were!

“Excuse me? What are you two losers talking about?”

The fillies emerged from behind the curtain, with Apple Bloom leading the way.

“Nothing, Diamond, we were just wondering why you were being so, uh, nice to Sweetie Belle here.”

“I wasn’t being nice, I was just talking.”

“Fine, so why were you being so, uh, talkative?”

“I was bored. So what? Do you blank-flanks have a problem what that?”

“But, she was being-- she didn’t take my seat! She apologized!” Sweetie spoke up from behind the other filly.

“If I’d wanted your seat, I would’ve taken in. I didn’t wanna get your blank-flank germs on me.”

“See, I told ya.” Apple Bloom turned to her friend, rolling her eyes.

“But we were talking about Clover the Clever! I’m not making this up!”

Diamond let them bicker. It had felt good to yell at the fillies, to let off some of the morning's anger and frustration without fear of judgement. For a minute she had just been Diamond Tiara, unapologetic and unafraid. At least, that's how it had seemed at first. But the more she yelled, the worse she felt. Her insults sounded hollow, as if she were reading lines from a script.

The urge to apologize came on strong enough to make her stumble.

“Uh, I need to go to the bathroom,” she muttered. Without waiting for a response, she rushed to the back of the shop.

Closing the door behind her, Diamond turned to catch herself in the mirror. She still looked the same, though her eyes were tinted by the shadow of sleeplessness. That shade hinted at a deeper conflict, like a piece of peeling skin after a sunburn - pick at it enough and you’d find something raw and painful underneath. Diamond started to peel.

What are you doing to me, Rarity? But it wasn’t Rarity. The apology wasn’t out of politeness or an attempt to save face. It was because she’d lied when she said she was ‘just talking’. She wanted more - more of that feeling she’d felt with Sweetie Belle, something she might have called ‘childishness’ in somepony else. The freedom to say and do as she pleased without fear of judgement.

What am I doing to myself?

Something glittered in the mirror - the jewels in her tiara catching the light. She leaned on the counter, lifting the decoration from her mane with care and setting it down before her. Why do I wear this dumb thing, anyway?

It was the wrong question - she’d always worn it, a gift from her father when she’d received her cutie mark. It was the rest of her that was out of place. Sitting on the counter, the tiara looked like a prop, part of a costume that no longer fit her. She looked in the mirror again and rubbed her eyes, half-expecting the sleep circles to come off like stage makeup. She saw a different pony, one that seemed younger and more vulnerable. It was the filly that had left Silvy’s bedroom that night, years ago, the one she’d buried underneath all those defenses. By the time the teasing had stopped, she'd become stronger - hard enough to push back against anyone that tried to make her feel weak or vulnerable. And she'd thought that strength had protected her, allowing her to do as she pleased without fear of being hurt again. Maybe, after Humbolt, she hadn't just put away dreams of romance and adventure - fairy tales which had proven impossible so early in her young life. Maybe she'd lost part of herself as well.

Until Rarity. Her body quivered with an excitement that came to rest at the base of her spine. She felt exposed, like... like when Rarity spanked me. All the fantasies she'd left to gather dust on the bookshelf in her mind had stirred with the unicorn's invitation to return to the Carousel Boutique on that first Friday night. The memory of silk against her legs teased her, but it was the phantom sting of the crop against her rear that set her on fire again. It was the realized potential of leather on flesh, the unicorn's desire crashing into her, shaking her awake from years of sleepwalking.

It was only after the third blow, the one that left her crying, that she’d really started to learn. Clear, honest pain to cut through the bullshit excuses and half-truths she'd filled her life with until then. Her heart, like her body, had woken up, and she wanted to feel everything. She was still getting used to the flood of sensations Rarity had opened her up to, both pain and pleasure. She pushed forward through it all, fumbling and awkward, but determined as well, as if she were running a marathon when she was just getting over a broken leg. She stumbled, sometimes hard, but she would get up again with Rarity's help, nudging her with the gentle guidance that she'd only started to accept once she'd been pushed to the limit by Silvy's almost-discovery.

But the momentum from Rarity's lesson had come at a cost far beyond bits. Already she'd almost lost her best friend. Her own mistake, for certain, and when she'd panicked, the dressmaker had been there to show her the mistakes she'd made, examining the sloppy, jagged cuts where Diamond had attempted to trim her relationship, showing where she'd pulled too hard at the cloth of their friendship, almost to the point of tearing. The unicorn's solution had been smoother - she'd helped Diamond salvage the mess she'd made, teaching her the proper strokes for lying and misleading - but that had a price, too.

When she left the boutique again, she'd be walking into the same world of deceit that she and the unicorn had been forced into. The shadow of disapproval cast by her discovery in the schoolyard on that awful night had never quite lifted, and in that small town, the disapproval she anticipated from her father, Rarity's friends, even the mayor herself loomed large above her life. It was a darkness that had only deepened with the story she'd told Silvy, a lie she'd have to repeat for the rest of her life.

Maybe that was what had excited her about Sweetie's book. The whole affair with Rarity and Silvy had preoccupied her for over a week. Her life had become an incalculable series of panic attacks, leaving her exhausted. The only moments of release had come with the unicorn, and afterwards she had been set upon again by worries.

That's it! Diamond slammed a hoof on the counter. She needed breathing room, a space to stretch out her new muscles in the sun, rather than behind curtains and shades. And while Silvy was undoubtedly a superior pony, she had sensed a similar honesty and emotional vulnerability in Sweetie and her friends, something that had endured despite her own best efforts to trample it. It was a break with the past - her moment to take charge of her own life.

She stared at the tiara, chewing her lip, feeling a sudden discomfort. Outside the door was a life she had only started living. If she went out there without her tiara, Apple Bloom and Sweetie might not notice anything right away. They would still see the same Diamond Tiara she'd constructed over the span of many years. She would have to do something to prove to them that she had changed.

An apology would be simple, but would it stop there? Would they be... friends with her? Would she even want that? Maybe, maybe not. Her attraction to the fillies still mystified her, especially Apple Bloom. She had a litany of grievances against the bumpkin, starting with ruining her cuteceñera and ending with the grating way she'd pronounced Diamond's name when she'd burst into boutique - "DAHmund TiAHRuh". And she could just imagine the look on Silvy's face on seeing them together - shock or smug disapproval, both fit. But all that could wait. Right then, she needed to do something.

Taking the tiara between her teeth, she left the bathroom. Her transformation was not lost on Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, both of whom stood gawking outside of the bathroom door. Passing them by, Diamond went to her bag, tucked the tiara inside, and turned to her audience.

“Apple Bloom, Sweetie, I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you.”

No response followed, save the silent dropping of two jaws.

“Really, I am. I’ve been really bad to you two, and you haven’t deserved any of it. Will you accept my apology?”

“Uh, sure, Diamond, that’s... that's fine. Sweetie and I just need to, uh, talk first, okay? Isn’t that right, Sweetie?” Apple Bloom nudged her still wide-eyed friend.

“Oh, yeah... talk.” The fillies retreated to their previous hideout behind the curtain. This time there was no whispering, and two sets of eyes peered out at her, waiting.

Embarrassed, she moved to the kitchen. As she expected, the fillies could only see the bully who had terrorized them for years, and nothing else. But it was something, a first step, and if she tried to win them over with half the effort she'd spent harassing them, maybe they would come around.

It was only when she reached the counter that she realized how high up everything was. Unicorns. After some fumbling, she managed to maneuver a glass to the table. She heard the front door open as she took the first sip.

“Sweetie Belle? There’s been a change of plans, so I’m just stopping in for a bit before I- oh, there you are. And Apple Bloom as well, I see.”

“Hiya, Rarity!”

“Hey, Rarity. Yeah, I was gonna ask, could we go crusading today? Scootaloo and Apple Bloom finally agreed to try flower sniffing to get our cutie marks!”

“Well, I don’t see why not, but really, I’ve told you about having guests when I’m not home.”

“I know, sorry. Um, Diamond Tiara’s here, too, although she’s not really my guest, since she’s waiting for you.”

“Oh, she is?”

“Here I am, Rarity.” Diamond stepped forward from the kitchen.

“Come to turn in your homework assignment already?” At Diamond’s nod, Rarity turned to the two fillies waiting impatiently before her.

“Run along now, girls. Sweetie, I need you to stop by Fluttershy’s cottage and tell her I’m not going to make it for our get-together today, and give her my apologies. I expect to see you back before--”.

“Thanks Rarity!” Before she could finish, Apple Bloom and Sweetie had charged out the door.

“I must say, this is a pleasant surprise. Or, well, I hope it is. I wasn’t expecting you back quite so soon, so something must have happened.” Rarity’s warm chatter accompanied the mare into the front room as she levitated her bag towards a hook on the wall.

She stood silent in the doorway. All the lightness and confidence she’d felt before had rushed out the door, and for a moment she couldn’t reconcile the mare who’d played her teacher in front of the fillies and the one that stood in front of her now. How could she begin to explain anything that happened that morning?

“How did it go, dear?” The ease with which the unicorn glided through the room put her to shame - hadn't Rarity's entire life been in danger less than twelve hours ago? And now they were making small talk.

Diamond shook her head, dismissing the double-vision. Swallowing her discomfort, she affixed the same tight grin she’d worn when she’d knocked on the door.

“Rarity, it’s all done! And it went okay!”

“That’s wonderful news! You’ll have to tell me all about it, once I’ve situated myself. I feel like I’ve been rushing around all morning.”

“Oh yeah?” Diamond gave thanks for the change in subject. She had no idea how she could tell Rarity ‘all about’ anything she’d done, lest she start by describing that crushing weight she’d carried from her argument with Silvy.

“You wouldn’t believe what I had to deal with. How a shop called Sofas and Quills can be out of stock with such perfect consistency is beyond me.” Diamond’s abandoned bag floated into the air, and join with the unicorn’s own to hang on the wall.

“You needed new quills?”

“And another sofa, actually. If you hadn’t noticed, this room is frightfully lacking in furniture. Which is all well and good when one is working, but when one is entertaining...,” Rarity paused as she closed Sweetie’s book, setting it at the center of the table. The room once again in order, she looked back at Diamond.

“But, what am I saying? You look positively haggard, darling, I can only imagine how your morning must have been. I insist you come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Lagging behind the unicorn, she followed her through a door she’d never seen before, set behind the room’s small stage. Behind the door was another world.

In the dim lighting, she could just make out lines of mirrors and conical hair dryers. It was only when Rarity turned on the overhead lights that she got a sense of the room’s size - it was huge, as if she were going behind the stage of a theater.

Whisking a blanket from a maroon couch in the corner, the unicorn beamed.

“When was the last time you had a makeover, dear?”

“A while ago, I guess? I really only get one on special occasions.”

“Yes, well, I’d consider this a special occasion, wouldn’t you? You embarked in the face of certain danger, and have returned unscathed. Not that that should keep you from a more regular beauty regimen, of course.”

“Aren’t you worried about customers coming in?”

“Not at all, actually. The boutique is on limited hours until next week, when I start taking orders for the festival. And all but my most... determined customers understand how to read a sign saying I’m closed.

“Now, I’ll be just a moment. In the meantime, could you wash your face? You’ll find soap and towels in the drawers on the wall. And please, remember to pat yourself dry, not rub.”

Diamond sighed at Rarity’s back as she disappeared into the front room. Staring at windows so frosted they reduced the world beyond to a dull blur, she felt confined. The stale, humid air of the back room was a world away from that airy lightness she’d felt before Rarity had appeared.

Taking in her surroundings, she began to explore. The room must only have seen visitors a few times a year, when the dressmaker debuted new clothing lines. Yet everything was in order, with spotless counters and the machinery of beauty standing at attention, ready to receive even the odd, unanticipated guest.

“Why, the conversation went wonderfully, Rarity. No problems at all.” She addressed one of the many vanity mirrors. Grinning again, she cringed. Rarity had been generous when she’d called her haggard. Deep, dark lines crowded under bloodshot eyes, sunk deep in a pale, washed-out face. A face that told the truth, where she did not.

I did better this time. I did. She had done everything Rarity had suggested and more. She’d held back and let Silvy throw it all in her face with a grace that the unicorn would be proud of. It even looked like Silvy and she would be friends after all.

So why do I feel so guilty? Frustrated, she wiped her hoof across the glass, staring in shock at the smudge marks it left along the surface.

Dust? She hadn’t seen dust anywhere in the boutique. Looking over the desk, she realized there was a thin layer of it on everything.

It’s because she shoved you in a closet, away from everyone, like always. But her doubt spoke with uncertainty. Turning away from the desk, she saw another room, one she’d missed at first glance. Here, a drawer ajar; there, a stray brush. The loose ends of so many minor tasks. She had seen disorder in the house before - cuts of cloth, lengths of ribbon and bits of lace scattered in Rarity’s bedroom like the aftermath of some creative explosion. This was different, a room strewn with an artless, unproductive carelessness she had never before seen from the unicorn.

It was a room that didn't pretend to be anything other than what it was: messy, underused, and full of potential. Diamond imagined it was what her own heart looked like, now that the shell of years had fallen away, and the fact that she could see herself in Rarity's house at all filled her with hope once again.

“Now, before we begin, I’ll need a precise list of your allergies.” Rarity stood in the doorway, accompanied by a small canister floating near her horn. “They refuse to use this kind of mud mask at the spa, though Heaven knows I’ve tried to convince them otherw- Oof.”

Diamond’s embrace caught the unicorn off-guard. Mussing that immaculate purple mane, she kissed her. What I wouldn’t give to do this in the sunlight. But here was Rarity, and here was she, and in the meeting of their bodies her concerns were forgotten. She pressed her lips against the unicorn’s, in a kiss that was as passionate, if not as graceful, as she’d imagined.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw all of Rarity. She saw the smile worn for her friends after Diamond burst into the shop, dirty and upset. The calm look of determination when she was advising Diamond about problems that were not hers but had become hers, brought to her doorstep by a careless pupil. The ease with which she’d cancelled, first her evening, then her afternoon with her friends. But it was here, in that dusty room, with Diamond, that she could be honest.

Rarity leaned down, and they were eye to eye, her muzzle a breath’s distance from the startled dressmaker.

“I’d like my reward now, Rarity.”

“Have you, ah, washed your face?”

“Not that reward.” She brushed her lips over Rarity’s, giggling as she felt them come away sheened with makeup.

“I see. If I recall, you had something you wanted to talk about?”

“Later.” Diamond brushed over her lips again, letting her muzzle linger, teasing with her tongue. In the dusty, hidden room she moved her mouth against the unicorn’s, sinking into her. When they parted again, Rarity’s cheeks had blossomed a deep shade of pink. Looking around them, Diamond realized the canister she had been levitating had hit the floor, scattering shards of clay and green spatters of mud around them.

“Shit, I’m sorry about that, I--”.

Rarity cut her off with a very unladylike snort. “Later. I have more pressing need of you in my bedroom.” Turning around, she cast a glance that fell somewhere between admonishing and come-hither. “And watch your language, young lady.”

Climbing the stairs from the living room, Diamond apologized again. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Really, don’t worry about it. I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me.”

When they reached the bedroom, she pressed herself against Rarity again. Their muzzles met again and she sank into the unicorn, exchanging heated breaths in their excitement, until the salty tang of sweat hit Diamond’s tongue. The raw, earthy taste excited her all the more, and she bit down on the unicorn’s lip, causing her to give a soft yelp.

“My, someone is eager. Perhaps I should hold out on you more often.” The dressmaker stood back, panting. She grinned at the look of shock on Diamond’s face. “Joking, dear. Now, up on the bed, you’ve more than earned it.”

Diamond started forwards, then paused. The taste of sweat still lingered on her tongue. Looking at Rarity again, she caught sight of an elusive drop making its way over the unicorn’s brow.

Rarity? Sweating? Diamond blinked, but the drop remained. Confused, she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to get her bearings. She breathed in the heavy air of the room, taking in the light, clean odor of sweat, the sharp notes of White Diamonds, and above it all, the strong, assertive scent of unicorn’s desire. It was enthralling, far overpowering her own. How could she be so excited, when I’m the one who...

She didn’t get off either. The realization startled her. Diamond had asked to be punished, had been given something suspiciously close to pleasure, and then the unicorn had let her run off without a word about her own needs. And now she was getting ready to indulge her, putting herself last again.

How does she bear it?

“Is something the matter, darling?”

The muscles on Diamond’s back twitched just thinking about the burden Rarity carried with her from her bedroom, something she’d only made worse in her ignorance. The weight she’d felt after her confession to Silvy was nothing in comparison.

Diamond shook her head. “Rarity, I want you up on the bed.”

“Okay, was there some position you had in mind-”.

“No, I mean- I wanna do you first.”

“‘Do me’, hm?” The unicorn’s coy giggle played over her spine. “The last I checked, it was I who was supposed to ‘do’ you. You’ve earned-”.

“Please?”

“Well, if you insist. Far be it from me to decline such a generous offer.” Rarity mounted the bed, sweeping her now-disheveled mane to the side and lifting her rear, presenting herself in profile. “How would you like me?”

Now. Under me. Screaming in pleasure. “Uh,” Diamond stumbled over her thoughts. “Lying down. On your back. Please.”

She found herself salivating in anticipation as she climbed up. She had never been on top with Rarity, and the change in perspective was amazing. The unicorn’s body stretched out before her, taut with desire, a playground of alabaster and indigo.

But where to start?

Her ears twitched with the seductive memories of teeth and tongue, and she began to explore the soft expanse of the unicorn’s neck with her mouth, licking up and down and moving up to nip at her ears. Rarity sighed below her, giving a brief but promising moan when she ran her teeth along her right ear, but still, it wasn’t enough.

Sitting back, something else caught her eye. The unicorn’s horn jutted out at her, its rounded tip beckoning with all the mystique of a hundred schoolyard rumors about that particular piece of anatomy.

“Rarity, can I touch your horn?”

“Yes, Diamond, you may.” Rarity shifted beneath her, propping herself up on the pillows to look her in the eye and making Diamond shiver from the friction of skin on skin. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner.”

Getting down to business, she sized up the horn as she might an exotic animal, marveling at the delicate curve of the spiral groove inscribed in its pale surface. Satisfied with the first part of her examination, she brought her hoof up, just making contact. The unicorn gave an approving sigh.

“Oh, wow, is it really sensitive?”

“Usually not, but it will be, if you keep it up.”

Emboldened by Rarity’s words, she slid her hoof over the shaft, brushing over the length. The surface was smooth, like warm marble, and when the mare beneath her sighed again her mind filled with questions.

“Should I put it in my mouth? I mean, like, a hornjob?”

“If you’d like. In fact, I’d very much enjoy a ‘hornjob’. Just let me know before you start.” Rarity’s eyes were closed, and she was nodding in time with Diamond’s strokes.

“Is something gonna come out? Because I heard that-”. Slamming her hoof over her mouth, she stopped, mortified. “Wow, this is awkward.”

“Pardon?”

“The questions. Sorry, I’m totally ruining the mood.”

“Diamond, could you get up for a moment?”

She rolled onto the bed, desperate to bury herself and her shame in the pillows. But when she looked at Rarity again, the unicorn was smiling.

“Diamond, I appreciate your curiosity. I really do.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I can imagine few things sexier than a lover who wishes to know how to pleasure me properly.” Rarity’s eyes roamed her body, comforting and teasing, “Except, perhaps, that same lover in my bed, applying the lesson she’s learned.” Lips pressed against hers, and she moaned, her heated body reminding her that the unicorn wasn’t the only one overdue for release.

“If you’ll just give me a moment...”

With her magic, Rarity produced a single towelette from the bedside drawer. As it ran over the horn, Diamond imagined her worries being washed away as well. Any shame she had felt before was gone, dispelled by the unicorn’s gentle words, and as she watched she felt desire, hot and pulsing from her core, rising to the surface once again.

“My horn is spotless, of course, but I understand it's rather lacking in taste.”

“I don’t care how your horn tastes, Rarity.” Diamond mounted the unicorn’s chest once again, staring into those blue - azure. Deep, sparkling azure - eyes. “I don’t care at all.”

“You say that now, but--”.

She cut Rarity off with a kiss. The unicorn’s sigh breezed over her muzzle, but when Diamond began to pull back, to issue some half-hearted apology, Rarity pushed forward. They melted into each other. She had never been so aggressive, so hungry for the unicorn’s mouth, and with wet, smacking kisses she devoured her. When they parted, she recognized the hunger in Rarity’s eyes as her own.

“Teach me.”

“You can start with your tongue, if you like.”

Remembering how the unicorn had teased her the day before, she resolved to take her time. She began running her tongue down the horn’s length, letting it follow the natural curve of the spiral, tasting the sweetness of oranges from her preparations. Her hooves had misled her, and with a more sensitive, probing organ she could feel a softness to the horn as well. Caressing it with her tongue, she followed the spiral back up, repeating the motion again as Rarity sighed beneath her.

“Good. Now, how do you feel about using your mouth?”

Not yet. She licked again, harder, dragging a moan of surprise from the unicorn. She massaged the shaft, trying to get at whatever lay beneath - that raw, dusty essence under the perfume and beauty products. By the time she withdrew, the horn lay glistening before her, coated in her saliva.

“Oh, dear.” The unicorn’s chest rose and fell in rapid beats against her hindquarters. Diamond felt desire rising again, bubbling below the surface. She stifled a moan of need. Not yet, her first.

“Oh, dear,” repeated Rarity, with a little more authority now that she had caught her breath. “That was... very good. Now, about your mouth...”

Diamond pounced, capturing the tip of the horn in her mouth and grinning at the resulting gasp from the unicorn. Teach me, Rarity. Teach me your body.

“Good. Very good.” The instructions continued, unsteady and breathless. “And r- remember, no need to rush, dear. Just start slow, up and down, like before, with your tongue.”

No need to rush. A reminder to her body as much as herself. Diamond pushed down, letting the hard-but-soft fullness of the horn rub along her tongue, stopping only when the round tip nudged the back of her palate. She brought her head back, letting her tongue glide over the shaft again, until the tip was between her lips. Up and down.

Rarity arched her back, brushing the soft bristles of her coat along her swollen nether lips, and Diamond almost bit down on the horn as she struggled to keep her balance. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she scolded the unicorn below her. Not fair. The unicorn’s forelegs pressed against her hips, gentle but insistent, and their bodies slid together once again, establishing an unsteady rhythm.

Soon they were moving in concert, her mouth moving up and down the horn in slow, shuddering strokes. No need to rush. But there was that maddening friction growing between her slit and the unicorn’s body. Between her teeth, she felt a tremor, something deep inside Rarity pushing to reach the surface.

“Diamond?” Her name, a question. Her response - not in words, but a cessation of motion, her mouth still holding the object of desire. The air was heavy with sweat and anticipation, hers and Rarity’s.

“Faster, please.”

Please. Please please me. Asking, not commanding. Diamond’s mouth plunged over the horn, enthralled by the feeling of Rarity's body writhing beneath her. In the rough, wild strokes of their bodies there was an equality - the same thing she'd felt when Rarity had called her 'lover'. The distance between them had collapsed, leaving only the need of one body for another.

The horn had begun to hum. She thought she’d imagined it at first, but it was clear now, a slight, warm vibrato pulsing with Rarity’s essence. Faster and faster, her tongue washed over the horn, her mouth slipping over its length in fumbling, awkward ecstasy. Her body danced to the cadence of the unicorn’s pleasure, soft, sharp notes in time with the movement of her tongue. Rarity pressed hard on her hips, arching her back again.

“Fuck!” Diamond cried out as hot release tore through her body. Not fair. Rarity was supposed to come first. Heedless of her protest, her hips pushed forward, teats slipping over a coat slick with sweat and her own juices.

“Fuck,” she shouted again as she pressed down, grinding her button against the unicorn. She could feel another climax building, stronger than the first, all that delayed pleasure threatening to overwhelm her.

Latching back onto the horn, she attacked it, almost choking as the fullness pushed towards her throat. Something drove her, something deeper than that deep, pulling desire that had followed her from that very room the day before. It was the memory of dust upon mirrors. It was something secret, all that easy, unpracticed beauty most ponies would never see. She thought she could taste it before, and she could taste it again now. The horn vibrated against her teeth, driving into her bones.

Rarity screamed, and the world burst into azure.

“You really meant it when you said I did ‘wonderfully’?”

“Of course I did. I’ve never received quite that level of... attention from another pony before.”

Diamond lazed on a pillow, eyes on Rarity as she sipped a cold glass of water, crinkling her nose at the sour taste of lemon. The unicorn was about as messy as she had been the night before, but in spite of that she’d only interrupted their conversation once, to retrieve drinks for both of them.

“Well, you get some credit too, right? For, uh, helping.”

They had been talking for what seemed like hours. After the brief, satisfied silence that followed the light show at the conclusion of their lovemaking, Rarity had given her a short briefing on unicorn anatomy. Most of it was stuff she’d figured out during the act, but hearing it from Rarity was fascinating.

“I suppose, but don’t sell yourself short. You’re a fast learner, dear. I daresay, a natural.”

The conversation about Silvy had been brief. Diamond had recapped the morning she’d spend at Sugarcube Corner and their argument in the schoolyard, with Rarity lending her a sympathetic ear. Despite how worried she’d been the day before, the unicorn hadn’t asked many questions, beyond the occasional “Really?” and “How could she?”. Not that Diamond minded - she was happy to leave it behind, along with all the unpleasant feelings that had come up with it. They each had their own burdens to bear.

Rarity’s horn sparkled, levitating the pitcher of water she’d brought from the kitchen to top off their glasses. Thought it was a simple spell, she found herself gazing at the azure aura, recalling the beautiful burst of energy that had filled the room during Rarity’s orgasm. A lady does not experience ‘horngasms’. Nor does a gentlepony, for that matter.

“At this rate, I’ll have run out of class material before our eight weeks are up. Though I’m sure it would be entertaining to learn some things together.”

Diamond sat up. Eight weeks. She’d forgotten. Or rather, at some point she’d wanted to forget, shuffling it away in the same place as her list of required summer reading. Time had slowed to a crawl since the day she’d stepped into the boutique to threaten the unicorn whose bed she now occupied.

“Yes, dear?”

Rarity smiled at her, in the warm, lingering afterglow of sex, eyes probing with curiosity. Diamond realized she had been staring. Wordless, her gaze remained, remembering another smile, one that had greeted her on that day she’d burst into the shop to confront the dressmaker. It wasn’t so different from the one Rarity had worn for her friends, when she’d had to cover for a different dramatic entrance. Behind that smile, a terrible burden - the weight of wanting to say something but remaining silent, of wanting something without acting.

“Is something the matter?”

“I don’t wanna have class anymore, Rarity.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t wanna have class.” She spoke with the lightness of her afternoon revelation and the wildness of the midnight breeze at her window. “Like, I do, I know I’ve still got a lot to learn, but I can’t pretend to just be your student anymore. Like, when we’re together, alone. And I don’t want you to call me your student. Uh, unless you’re tying me up or something, I kinda like that.”

“Well, I suppose that’s fine. I’ll be more judicious about using those terms when we’re together.” Rarity gave an easy, amorous grin. “And we can discuss what I’m going to call you before I begin ‘tying you up’.”

Eight weeks. So little time, now. Too little time to spend in that messy bed. She couldn’t believe it was only her who had changed since their first encounter. If she hadn’t come crashing into the shop that second time, their lives would have gone on, their brief encounter a ripple in a stream of unabated, mundane normality.

And after it’s over? Forget it, she couldn’t think about that now.

“Also, I wanna come over more, not just on Fridays.”

“But, dear, your friend’s suspicions-”.

“I’ll take care of it, Rarity. For real this time. Her and my father. I’ll be more careful. It’s not like they’re watching me all the time.”

The unicorn paused, weighing Diamond’s plea. “Once a week, then.” Diamond breathed a sigh of relief as the grin crept back onto her muzzle. “Tuesdays should work. We can say you’re helping with the extra orders I’ll be taking on for the festival.”

“Twice.”

“Once, and we’ll talk about it later.”

“Fine.” She collapsed onto the pillow, resting her eyes with a satisfaction she hadn’t felt in ages, at least since the whole mess with Silvy had started. Her gambit had worked. She could feel it, a new project forming beneath her hooves, and her whole body tingled, like a leg she’d been leaning on too long coming back to life. Eight weeks wasn’t much time, but it would have to be enough.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Rolling over, she opened her eyes again. Rarity was examining her, eyebrows raised in a look that was at once both amused and incredulous.

“Also, you need to get Sweetie and her friends to hang out with me.” She’d only mentioned the encounter she’d had with the two Crusaders that afternoon in passing, still unsure what it meant, but intent on finding out.

“Really? The last I heard, you weren’t exactly their favorite classmate.”

“I know. But it’s important.”

“I’ll see what I can do about Sweetie, but I make no promises.”

She closed her eyes again, and there was silence in the bedroom. She had changed, she had been changed, and both were good. So distracted was she with the possibilities of the coming weeks, she couldn’t even hear the clock ticking away the minutes against the wall. All she could see was azure.

“Rarity?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

The floor was clean. At least, as clean as it had been five minutes before, when Rarity had scrubbed the last of the mud mask from the checkered tile and lavender linoleum of the salon. As clean as it ever would be, she supposed, no matter how much she stared at it. Task completed, she had returned from disposing of the mess in the kitchen to scour the surface with her eyes.

Reckless, she admonished herself. She had lost control when Diamond embraced her, magic blinking out and sending the clay vessel plummeting to the floor. Not that it had cost her anything - both the mud and the container were easily replaced - but it was the principle of the thing. Losing control of one’s magic, especially in front of others, was something of an embarrassment.

Reckless, but you loved it, she corrected. In the moment, she hadn’t felt embarrassed at all. More to the point, what she could remember was the feeling of the girl’s lips pressing into hers, and the heady anticipation of taking her to bed again.

Sighing, Rarity completed her inspection, turning off the lights and shutting the door. The dust that had come up with the mud and clay reminded her once again that she needed to do a thorough housecleaning at some point before the week’s end, when she would be flooded with orders for the festival.

The boutique was silent, minus the ticking of the clock from the kitchen. Ticking that reminded her of the appointment she’d broken earlier. I suppose I can pick Opal up this evening, poor dear. She must be in an absolutely wretched state without her Mommy. In her bedroom, there was the gentle breathing of a filly who had woken up too early that morning to complete the homework Rarity had assigned to her.

Not homework. It was her choice. Diamond had been quite insistent about not using school terms, for reasons Rarity had yet to decipher. Nor is she a filly, dear. Fillies don’t do those kinds of things with their tongues.

Rarity sighed again, disturbing the stillness of the front room. She had been contradicting herself with some frequency in the past few days. When the girl had run into the shop to warn Rarity of her troubles, her first instinct had been to put a stop to everything. Instead, she’d put her through the pain of a breakup and committed them both to the continued deceit of every pony around them.

Her choice, not yours. You put her through nothing she hadn’t chosen.

And then again, a few hours earlier, when Diamond had wanted to mount her. Rarity's better reasoning had objected, that it was hardly proper for a mare and an independent business owner to be writhing beneath a pony so many years her junior. That, besides which, they hadn’t even established the proper relationship between who was in charge and who wasn’t, and how would Rarity’s acceptance be read by a girl who had such a sense of entitlement to begin with?

And yet... Rarity shook her head, itching to get away from her thoughts. Retreating upstairs, she surveyed her inspiration room, seeking out something with which to distract herself. Her eyes lighted on the sketchbook she’d set aside the day before, when she had declared a one-week cessation of work. Looking doesn’t count.

Flipping back the cover, she examined the bare, graphite bones of her craft. The first page was marked with indecision, a design she couldn’t quite put her hoof on. Half the sheet contained a modest ball gown. Demure in cut, the viewer could go so far as to judge it ‘cute’, fitted as it was for a child. On the other, a more daring version of the same, tasteful, yet accenting the fuller body of a mare.

She snorted, tossing the book aside. The outlines were, in fact, for the dress she’d been designing for Diamond in preparation for the town’s upcoming festivities. She’d wrestled with the concept for hours before she’d set it aside, deciding to leave the choice up to the customer herself.

She won’t have to worry about matching colors with her date, at least. Rarity shrugged the thought away, retrieving the sketchbook and placing it back upon the desk. Not your fault.

Glancing back at the bed, her eyes lingered on the girl. Would she even be looking for a date, now that everything had fallen through with that other filly? Hopefully, said part of her. I would hope not, said another.

Opening the sketchbook up once again, she levitated a pencil, letting it hang above the paper. It would be good for her to find a date, she suggested, cutting away some of the fabric on the smaller dress. Another partner would simplify things - there was no way their arrangement would continue, she wouldn’t allow it, and surely Diamond knew better than to try managing yet another secret relationship.

And yet... She glanced at the gown’s provocative twin. The pencil rushed down, intent on crossing it out, erasing the possibility, only to stop right above it. What if she’s not planning on finding a date? In the discussion after their lovemaking, Rarity had said nothing to push her in that direction, and been too quick to concede when the girl had made her demands.

The pencil hung in the air, idle. It was the lovemaking itself that did it. Her climax had left her off-balance. How was it possible for one so young to pleasure her more than any partner her own age? The girl had been beyond attentive. Her desire to learn, her responsiveness to Rarity’s instructions, had given the act a discomforting intimacy.

With a final sigh, she set the pencil down, closing the journal and resigning herself to the bed. Diamond murmured, speaking the nonsense language of sleep. The unicorn contemplated her a moment more before she let her hoof rest on her shoulder. The argument wasn’t going to be resolved that day, and perhaps that was for the best. As long as she made sure to enforce her limits, it might even be fun. In the meantime, she would enjoy the soft breathing of the girl beside her, letting it overtake the ticking of the clock.

Eight more weeks. Perhaps.