Author's Note

Ms. "Rarity"'s POV

Next Chapter: My Turn

Waking up, Bound and Bonded: 4

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As I come to, I find myself on the bed; resting, but exhausted. I am burning with the excess of love she had supplied me with, is supplying me with.

How long had I been stuck in the position, in the threshold; how long had I been laying on the bed, unconscious? I had no idea, and none is to say.

Hours had past, but at least I am still here. Had I been missed? Who had broken the bonds, holding me in place? Who had carried me over to this bed, short as the distance may be.

I barely hear the sounds, of the girl entering the room; Squee slowly stepping up to the bed, sliding down onto the bed with me.

I feel her pressing her lips onto mine, gently; parting her lips and her tongue is slipping out, and into my mouth.

Just enough, no more than an inch if even that much.

In the process, I find my lips parting with hers; now contracting, as she is stimulating me. Teasing me, as she is exploring.

While I fail to notice; realizing that she had extracted the anal and vaginal tubes, respectively. Yet, I am finding myself wet, all the same. Was it part of the features she had requested, as she summoned me; or is it adaptations acquired, under the influence and exposure to what had happened?

For now, I choose to believe that it is the excitement; as she is still with me, even after this long.

It is my choice, and I choose to let it be because of her.

Why shouldn’t it be?

“This, feels so good..” I mouth, but not a sound is escaping my lips; yet she is reacting, as if she had heard me.

Well, but why not?

What I could not see, while my eyes are closed; what I could not see before, but somehow I sense her being in the room. Is it just the Love she is emanating; or, had she formed a bond to me while I was still unconscious? She is there, and I can no longer ignore it, or look away; I sense her, I feel her warm body.

Once the bond had been established, it can not be broken; once I had acknowledged and accepted the bond to her, I can no longer ignore it as if it had never been there. I sense her, as if I had seen her before me; as if it had been midday, even if the room is stark black.

There is no denying.

My rump, is her toy; to play with and fondle as she pleases. I can not deny it, even if I stay ignorant of it for now; but I know she will be claiming what is rightfully hers, and I will be enjoying it. How could I not, after everything she had already done for me?

There are reasons, why I should never consume as much Love as she had offered me; I am melting like a soft rubber doll, my core slowly changing as if I had been placed into her mold. I can not voice protest, more than I am actually consciously aware of it happening. Maybe it is for the better, after all.

She had named me Rarity, and that is who I am; who I am becoming, as I slowly lose the chance of changing into someone else. While my body will remain as is, permitting me to blend in with my sisters; but I am forever locked in place, I will remain Rarity. it is too late to revert, even if I could save what little is left of my choices.

With the insertions of the tubes in fresh memory, hazy as my memory may be; considering the situation, I had found myself in. As if it is a location, within me; not in the room I had been placed.

She had inserted the tubes into my orifices, bonded them and lubricated me; before she had reinforced these bonds: once, twice and thrice. Just as she had incited me, convinced me within the confines of the service I was offering her: I had engaged my suction, my suction-cups; before she had bonded my hands and feet onto the frame of the door.

I had been bonded within the threshold. While bonded, I had been the door; she had stepped in and out, while within the play. The play had followed her script and I had played my part; enjoying the role assigned to me, as she had the lead role directing my every action.

Since I had confirmed, I was offering her only what I could take part in; I had given her free rein, to do what she wanted to. She had enjoyed, what I stood to offer her; in turn, I had enjoyed what she stood to offer me.

How much could she change me, how much had she in fact been able to change me in the process; I have no idea, and since I had been changed I can no longer say. She had designed my body, and I had leaped to the offer; within the role, I had played her part.

Just that I had been out, for an undetermined amount of time; with free rein, she did as she pleased. As I came to, I found myself on the bed, but how much had I changed in the process?

“Who am I?” if one may ask; “Rarity” came the inevitable and definite response.

“Who is Rarity?” if one may ask; “Rarity is the property, of Miss Squee!” comes the response.

If the line of questions continue, but this is still the sum of the worth that will come out of the inquiries.

Bonding me within the threshold had changed my body; even if I can’t recognize it; but if I were to watch the original request, I would have recognized the changes. I am no longer her.

I had changed, she had changed me, with the tubes inserted into me, as she had bonded them into me and exposed me to the effects of them; I had been exposed, far too long not to be corrupted by her influences.

While I had been bonded, she had influenced me beyond the wildest of dreams; the changes are reaching further then the mere personality and my desires, I have become hers.

While I am not aware of it, largely because I had been unconscious at the time; she had extracted each of the tubes she had inserted into my orifices; yet now their effects are still influencing me, as if they had still been inside of me coating me internally.

Her lips still pressed tightly against mine, slightly parted; her tongue slid in between my lips, and my tongue slids in between her slightly parted lips. Her tongue is an inch into my mouth, slowly lolling in and out, in and out. As her tongue is lolling in my mouth, I find myself growing excited; with each of the tongue’s movements, I find myself inadvertently growing more excited and closer to the impossible contraction and the orgasm it is.

My lips, my mouth, my tongue and my throat are all wet like my vagina; but so is my rump. Moment by moment, minute by minute; I am pushed closer and closer to the contraction, and after about ten minutes it is hitting me.

However, while she is kissing me, I can also feel the tips of her fingers; playing, teasing the rim of my anal orifice. I had already accepted this, just as she had demonstrated just how enjoyable I had found it before; now I can no longer reject it, or the joy and excitement she is eliciting in the process of the action.

I had not been prepared for it, I could never have been prepared for what she had in mind for me; but she had played me like a fiddle, and I had enjoyed what came out of it. Now, I am bound by the effects of it.

She had conditioned me, to experience the wetness as enjoyable; thus teasing the wet orifice is exciting me, beyond my control. It is exciting, and thus gives me the response to the stimulation expected from it. I am enjoying it; because it feels good, there is no point in questioning it and I had given it up to her.

As a Changeling, I am assuming her preferred form; thus I am reacting in the manner, she had conditioned me to react. Even if it still is unaccustomed; to experience these contractions, as it is my mouth hit by the orgasm.

Being on my back, while she is on top of me; she had placed me under her control, but I had accepted it on the unconscious level right beside her. At first, she had left my hands resting along my body; but apparently, she had other ideas for me. Ideas, she intends to explore with me; exposing me, to who and what I am becoming.

“If you lift your hands up, to rest beside your shoulders..” she is mouthing with her lips still pressed tightly against mine, with her tongue still in my mouth.

I comply; bending my elbows, soon finding my hands by the side of my shoulders, still comfortable.

“There..” she mouths; “There, there; perfect; if only you turn the palms of your hands down, so you can feel the surface of the quilt?” she now incites me.

As I comply, I find the act only too easy; and the smooth quilt soon touch the palms of my right and left hand, respectively.

“You are pressing the hands close to your shoulders; spreading your fingers, as wide as possible?” she inquires.

“Oh..” I sigh; “yes.. yes, yes..” I respond, complying eagerly.

“Hold on..” she mouths; “you have suction?” she continues, spurring me on; “engage the suction, gently!” she concludes.

“Yes..” I sigh; “yes.. yes, yes, yes..” I respond, as I subconsciously follow her notion; “Squeak!!” is heard, as the suction is taking hold.

Only now, the palms of my hands bond to the smooth, crystal clear silicone upon which I lie.

Only now, I realize; I can not let go, and neither the suction nor the bond is under my control. My hands, firmly stuck, where they are, firmly, and securely bonded to the quilt.

I could try to pull my hands, but to no avail; but the experience and the realization just causes a spike in my excitement, where I lie under her.