Princess Luna opened her eyes. She wished she hadn’t. She was in that same bed, all on her own, and as the fragmented memories of the dream began to flood back to her, each one felt like a needle being pulled out of her head. Threads of her consciousness still danced between the waking world and that of the dreamscape, becoming disjointed and lost, wishing and waiting and wondering and more than anything wanting.

Desires left unfulfilled dissipated to dust, discarded and left on the wayside in the wake of cold, hard reality. Her creative, inventive mind that so badly wanted to concoct a satisfactory conclusion to her fantasy had been left threadbare—all of her will had been sapped away.

And then she remembered the part of the dream with her sister. She was fairly certain it wasn’t a memory, it had never happened exactly like that, as far as she remembered at least, but it was still indicative of the past, of the same issues that had driven a wedge, and eventually a rift between the two of them when concerning him and the matter of sharing him, of keeping him and loving him and having him to one of them completely.

The sisters had never been content to share him, though they’d managed to share everything else without fault, including an entire kingdom. He was different, it was too much, she couldn’t… she couldn’t handle it, and Celestia barely could either. If Luna hadn’t snapped, back then, then she knew as well as Celestia did that her sister might’ve done the same.

The dream was an ugly reminder of why she could never go down that road again, but all the same Luna couldn’t help but wonder how harmful it might be to return to his dreams again, at some point in the future…

She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. She’d already done too much. Already risked herself, tested her own willpower, scarcely managed to wake herself even!

The most horrific part of it was that she wasn’t even sure if she would’ve managed to free herself at all, if the command hadn’t had his voice behind it. She was pathetic, surely, a mess, a failure of a princess, but at least things hadn’t ended up worse than they already did.

At least, through all of that, she’d managed to discover a small truth about the creature that threatened Equestria, however unwillingly he did so. She’d managed to learn that his desire was something that Luna could never grant him, being affected by him so, something that no pony she knew of could grant him either.

Finding a manner by which to bring the God of Decadence true satisfaction was daunting to say the least, but if the princess wished for the world to return to its natural order, she needed to find a way to manage the threat…

The Salacious One awoke from his slumber with a strange feeling in his chest to greet him, along with the regular morning glory. It was a wistful sensation that he couldn’t quite determine the source of, but all the same it persisted through his first few waking hours. He had the odd sensation that last night’s dream had been rather eventful, perhaps even distressful, but he couldn’t place his finger on exactly why.

He could never remember any of his dreams, after all, but he knew that whatever happened in this one must’ve wound up his psyche.

He stood and paced through his morning jitters, waiting for the time when the first mares of the day would begin their trials with him. He wished there was a part of him that could still feel excited for it.

As much as he’d like to pretend that there were little or no residual effects from his dreams, or his memories, or the countless failed sexual experiences he’d been put through as of late, he knew that this wasn’t the case. Something in his brain was slowly coming unwound. A restraint, a defense, a sense of self? He wasn’t entirely sure what it was that was beginning to grow more absent, but he felt the missing space all the same, the nebulous and pervasive emptiness of his spirit.

No, that was a lie. He knew what was missing, and the part that should’ve worried him was just how much it didn’t worry him anymore. He’d all but accepted it as an eventuality at this point, even consciously he knew that it was only a matter of time until something irreversible occurred, something with permanence.

He nervously anticipated the first group of mares to arrive that day. He knew then that it wasn’t excitement that drove him to these actions, to scratching and tapping against his chair, to gripping down on the arm until he was white-knuckled, to humming and singing and talking to himself as if it was the most natural thing in the world…

It was simply restlessness: he was so eager to get to the disappointment, to the part where they failed to properly service him, where he was only made more frustrated and furious in the process, where he with each passing moment tested his patience versus his innate desire to take one of these fragile little creatures, pin them down, and pound them until his needs were finally sated. He knew that thoughts like that led down a dangerous path; perhaps he was willing to travel it.

It felt like an eternity before the first procession of eager mares arrived, though he recognised only one of them. It was always the case that at least one of the mares was a returning volunteer: this was apparently done to ensure that the new ones had some basis of security when dealing with him for the first time, though he failed to see how it made any real difference.

As if to illustrate his point, the unicorn who he’d shared these chambers with once a week prior looked to him and melted on the spot. From her priorly attractively confident and steely expression came half-lidded eyes and a bitten lip the moment their eyes connected for even a millisecond. His disinterest should’ve been apparent, but from what he understood of his own presence, every mare in the room right then felt as if his eyes rested solely on them.

“D-do you remember me, master?” she spoke, and while it was true that he did, he couldn’t recall anything specific from the top of his head. He had a good eye for mares, but not their personalities, or their names, or any of their idiosyncrasies. He remembered the ones who would snag him with their teeth, he supposed.

“Of course I do,” he responded, knowing that whatever he said she’d hear what she wanted to. “You were blowjob pony number four five six zero one two, am I right?” He chuckled dryly as he rattled off his bullshit. “Your mane had a distinct lemony scent which I adored, and you were a fan of classical art, were you not?”

Her eyes lit up like sapphires. “You do remember! I knew, I knew there was something special between us, I absolutely knew that it was right for me to return!” She was prancing back and forth on the spot now, almost doing a little victory dance, as all the while the other two mares in the room eyeballed him, seemingly unaware of the palpable one-sided tension exuding from the resident veteran fellator. “I hope that this time I can finally do it properly for you, master, that even you might take me, and—”

He drowned out her noise as best as he could: he’d heard it all before. It always just so happened that whatever seemingly random details he plucked from a hat just so happened to be precisely fitting to whichever mare he was talking to at the time. He read them without even meaning to, there was no mystery, and as such there was no allure. No difficulty either.

“I don’t like you,” he stated, as blunt as could possibly be. He yawned before her as she advanced on him, the other two mares in tow. “I find you to be tedious and dull, and there’s nothing you can do to make me feel otherwise.”

The mare blinked twice, seeming to seriously consider the notion for a moment, but then just as quickly, she dismissed the thought entirely. “I’ll make you like me…” she flicked her tail from side to side as she walked closer, staring up at him, moving to kiss at his wrist, palm, and eventually thighs from where he sat, her eyes ravenous and filled with want, soon panting. “I’ll give you happiness unlike you’ve ever known before, I’ll be the one that does it for you, you won’t be able to get enough of me, you’ll—” he placed a hand over her muzzle, silencing her, giving her a brief imperious stare before finally allowing her to resume, making it as clear as he could that he didn’t want to hear another word from her.

Things proceeded as was the new usual between him and the three mares, but here and there, he experimented with just how much he could say, what he could do. He told them he didn’t want them, they took it as a challenge, not an affront. He told them he wasn’t interested, they denied the possibility and endeavoured to make him interested. It truly was a pathetic situation to be in, and if he were the sadistic type he might’ve derived some pleasure from this level of control, but as he was?

He just wanted someone who wasn’t a fucking robot! Someone who didn’t sound and act like all the others, someone who liked him for who he was, whoever the fuck that might be, what was so good about him anyways?!

The mare from before was laid in front of him now, hind legs spread. They’d been at it for a while, and she was convinced that she was finally ready to take him. He rubbed his length against her lips for a while in contemplation, not entering her as she squirmed and gasped beneath him, her anticipation was lengthy and fitful.

And all the while as she waited, he pondered to himself what this mare that might’ve called him master now would’ve seen in him if it wasn’t for his magic, his charm, his inherent glamour. Him, so brooding and disinterested, so unwilling and unable to see the charm in any of the partners he met, if only for the fact that he knew their affection was so disingenuous. Even Celestia herself, would she have a speck of interest in him if it weren’t for who and what he was?

He cursed the one that’d made him this way, that had forced him to endure this for as long as he had. How ineffably stupid a condition he’d been left with, what wasted and worthless power he’d been granted.

He entered her, and she cried out in unbridled joy. There was no pain in her voice, there never was, despite his size. Just another effect of him being him, the discomfort definitely should’ve been there for both parties, what with how tight she was around him, but he didn’t hurt from it either.

The mare beneath him was every mare he’d ever fucked, really. She was the first and the most recent and every one in between, she was the loud ones, the quiet ones, the energetic ones and the tired, the inexperienced, the self-proclaimed experts—she was no different from the rest.

And he wanted her to be. So wanted her to be, for any of them to be…

Just… like me, hate me, tell me you don’t like something I do, tell me you aren’t interested in the things I’m saying, ask me something about me, make me feel happy, or sad, or excited, or relieved, or… He thrusted into her harder, grabbing her fur and pushing his hands through it in reverse, clumping it up and beginning to tug on loose strands as he fucked her. Only positive reactions, even to things that should’ve by all means been uncomfortable. Maybe she was masochistic, how could he know?

Part of him wondered if he was even capable of turning a mare off, or making her feel unsexy, or of not appearing inherently desirable. He continued to fuck the unicorn as the other two patiently waited their turns, if only because they both thought he was saving the best until last. Maybe they were right, he had no clue, but he honestly doubted either of them would be any different. It was just run of the mill from here.

Sometimes, he felt like the sword in the stone, sat here in solitude, waiting for someone to finally be able to pull him free. Sure, a mare managed to help him get there every now and again, but never with any degree of permanence. He honestly couldn’t remember his last good orgasm.

Maybe it was about time that he gave up on life in captivity. If he was scarcely managing to deal with it at this point, then the alternative was surely preferable?

Pushing the thought from his mind as he wrapped his hand around the mare’s mane, taking her more forcefully, feeling the ghost of a pleasant tingle down below, he tried to fully focus himself on his own satisfaction. Maybe, if he could just fool himself into the feeling of true enjoyment, he’d be able to finish, and push some of these negative thoughts out of his body for a while. It’d be a band-aid solution, sure, but anything was better than nothing at this point.

He tried to imagine her as Celestia at first, but while it felt exciting and reminiscent in theory, he couldn’t fool himself one bit: the size difference was massive, Celestia didn’t sound anything like this mare, Celestia didn’t feel like that on the inside…

She was squishier, more buttery. More vocal, too, she really cast aside her regal appearances in the throes of passion. And she called him by his name, at times…

The distracting thoughts were only reminding him what he was missing, rather than heightening his current experience in any way. Irritated and feeling even more pent up than before, he cast the unicorn aside with a few reassuring whispers and beckoned one of the other mares over. A short and wide-hipped earth pony with a soft pink coat took her place, one she’d never seen before. She had a pair of strawberries as a cutie mark, which were brighter than her coat.

“Looks like it’s your turn,” he muttered, gesturing her to take the unicorn’s place at the foot of his bed as she retreated to one of the couches in the corner, rubbing at herself with a hoof in an attempt to keep the surely fiery orgasm that was building in her previously alive. “Here, let’s see if you can do any better of a job.”

The earth pony scoffed at that. “Not even gonna ask me my name first, are ya?”

He was trapped in a stutter. He’d almost responded naturally, but there was something curious about that retort, namely that it wasn’t the straight obedience he’d become so used to. He put an arm behind his head and leaned back, studying her. “You want me to ask your name then, do you?”

“Only seems right and proper,” the mare nodded, peering at him with wide eyes that more than betrayed her interest.

Still, this was so strange. For the first time in a long while, he felt exposed, almost. He was fully aware that this mare was checking out his naked form, that she’d been watching as he had sex with a member of her party, and now she was… was she sizing him up? Judging him? The thought almost made him wanna throw a blanket over himself, it’d been a long time since even the concept of insecurity had reared its head. This was crazy.

Luckily, he caught himself before he started stammering. He wouldn’t let his confidence be shaken so easily, she probably just had a bit of a sturdier constitution for some reason or another. Maybe because she was an earth pony? These things always had explanations in some form or another. “I already know your name,” he answered with a chuckle. “It’s Sweet Serenade, correct?”

Sweet Serenade blinked twice before letting out a chuckle. “Sweetie Serenade, m’lord, but you were awfully close. How do you do that?” Her eyes were wide, and kept flicking down to his abdomen. “Suppose you can do a lot of things that the average pony can’t, huh?”

This was a lot to take in and process at once. He’d gotten her name wrong? His instincts were never, ever even the littlest bit wrong when it came to things like this. Was there a possibility that she was lying? No, mares didn’t lie to him, unless for some reason this one had been specially trained to do so? He knew he needed to gate his paranoia before it gave way to hysteria, but all the same, this was both too perturbing to ignore and too intriguing to pass up.

Donning a more serious expression, he regarded her with a flat stare, eager to not give away the game. “Suppose I can indeed. What can you do, I wonder?”

“What might you want me to do is a better question?” She blinked slowly, accentuating her long lashes, not making any move to come closer, it was almost as if the two of them were meeting for the first time.

What was he thinking? They were meeting for the first time, of course they were, but the manner with which she spoke, the angle of the conversation… this didn’t feel like the usual rote ritualistic forced obsession sex exchange ‘I’ll do anything for you master’ bullshit. This felt like an actual conversation. He couldn’t remember the last time he had even something resembling one of these with someone other than the princess. Too long. Way too long.

“A lot of things, I imagine,” he finally answered her, his lips giving away a slight hint of levity. “Suppose some of them I can’t really accomplish all locked up in here, so we might have to skip a few steps and get straight to the physical, if that’s not too much of a hassle.”

Sweetie Serenade looked as if she was seriously contemplating what he’d just proposed. Seriously, who was this mare? No ‘yes sir’, no jumping or panting or begging at the chance to be shown a real measure of interest, rather than the fakery he usually produced for those all too willing, but instead, all she met him with was: “Just how far into the physical were you looking to get, mister? I’ll have you know I’m saving myself for marriage.”

He could scarcely believe his ears. “You’re what?”

She instantly burst out laughing. “Ah, look at your face!” she imitated wiping a tear from her eye between short breaths, still chuckling all the while. “I don’t imagine they let virgins down here, now, do they? Of course I’m joking.”

Of course she was… not particularly shocking when he took stock of everything that had led up to this point, but all the same it threw him for a loop. He couldn’t get a read on this mare whatsoever, he almost felt as if she wasn’t even a pony, what with how seemingly normal she was. How could that even be possible?

It couldn’t, or at least it shouldn’t have been… As much as he tried to fight it he couldn’t help but feel enthralled by this mare, her words and simple presence had that effect. Strangely, it felt as if their roles had been reversed, and she was the mysterious enrapturing goddess that he was powerless but to fall for and want more and more from.

But he knew it wasn’t like that, not really. This was just a bit of an unexpected circumstance, but he was still in control. Nothing had really changed. He reached out, touching Sweetie’s cheek, feeling her flinch back a little but quickly give in to the contact, nuzzling up against his hand for but a moment, her cheek soft and fuzzy as expected, though her expression still seemed less drunk and lustful than that of the rest who had been in this same situation.

He’d come to expect that, and was wondering if perhaps at this point his brain was simply telling him things that it wished to see were coming true, but he was sure of it! While she seemed to enjoy his touch, she made no move to advance on him, her eyes didn’t glaze over, her ears didn’t fold in submission, and she barely made a sound, as opposed to the very vocal renditions he was all too used to experiencing with other mares at the point of their first touch. She sighed contentedly as he rubbed her cheek and moved up to gently ruffle her mane, playing with one of her ears and noting a short intake of breath in direct response.

She liked that… And there it was, he was relying on his instincts to find her likes and dislikes. It was shocking to say the least, such a basic and normalised thing he was aware, but for him to sit there and have to figure out what this mare did and didn’t want, to not have it all just come to the forefront of his mind in an instant, it was so alien, and—

He almost faltered and flinched his hand away when he realised what this might denote.

Well, there were a few things it might mean: that he was losing his powers, that this mare was inexplicably immune to his innate magic, that he had perhaps gone full circle and finally lost it and this was some kind of fever dream? But more than anything and irrespective of any of these ponderences was one fact that was astoundingly clear.

If he wanted to get anywhere with Sweetie Serenade, and by god, he did, then he would have to stop relying on his powers and do things the old fashioned way.

The prospect scared him as much as it excited him. He pulled away, beckoning Sweetie closer with a hand. “I want to get to know you a little bit more. Care to humour me?”

Sweetie didn’t seem to consider it for as long this time, but there was still a pause. When she did move, it was slow and deliberate, almost teasing in nature. She clambered on the bed with a small hop and a slight sway of her hips, waltzing her way up to him and then finally standing before him, nearly eye-level with him in her standing position while he was only sat up on the bed. “You wanted me, well here I am, care to tell me what you wanna know? I can be pretty forthcomin’.”

He wanted to flash a grin so badly but just barely kept himself restrained as he reached out and stroke gently along her back, allowing his fingernails to softly graze the skin beneath her fur. “Just looking to see how you react to a couple of things, no big deal, honestly. You can relax...”

“Well, pardon my saying so, but it sounds as if you’re—” she was cut off by her own gasp as he drew his fingers back along her sides, catching her off-guard by using both hands this time, apparently enjoying the massage-like sensation of his hands against her very much.

“So, you like that, huh?” He knew she did, of course she did! No stallion was capable of recreating this sensation, not even with magic unless they were really talented. Even then, that sensation was ethereal and fake when recreated, not bound to touch or closeness or warmth. He offered all those things to her in his hands, and she oh-so-gladly received, shuddering her way through his ministrations and humming in approval.

“Ah… it’s not bad, I’ll admit it,” the pony grinned, her cheeks flushed. “There’s a griffon masseuse—ah—at my local spa that does a similar thing like you’re doing with your hands now…” She looked as if she was holding out somewhat, refusing to acknowledge how much fun she was having, but even still, the fact that she could do that?

It drove him crazy. He couldn’t let on though, he’d have to keep on playing her game. He’d have to make her be the one to break first, rather than admit that he found her in any way exceptional. She knew he did already, but admission? Admission was something different entirely, it was a concession of power. The kind of power he didn’t want to give up so readily.

It wasn’t that his personality was so dominant, it was that he felt this was a dream that was too good to be true! If he allowed himself to simply revel in it, the bubble could burst at any moment. He had to keep cautious and guarded, he had to test her some more, he had to—

“How about me? Can I give you a massage, huh, mister?” Sweetie Serenade shrugged her withers, tilting her head a little as she watched his expression turn to what he imagined to be a rather visible blush. “I mean, I’m not the best, but I took a course for fun when I was in college and I think maybe I could do something you’d enjoy?”

To think she was so modest in her speech and yet so bold all the same, it was ludicrous. He was a god by her standards, or so he was so often told, and she paid it seemingly no mind. As much as it scared him, a part of him was finding it easier and easier to admit that he did in fact love it with each passing second.

“I suppose you could make an attempt. I’d allow that.” For all that he tried to remain level-headed and aloof, he knew that he’d already given himself away. He knew he was grinning like an idiot, that his disinterest had turned from a genuine factor to a pure affectation that he struggled to cling to… when he felt the pony’s hooves against him, she didn’t gasp, or twitch, or declare him to be her master or anything of the sort.

She simply smiled, inhaled, and began to rub at his exposed body, little bit by little bit.

First it was his shoulders, where she applied light pressure and then eventually pressed down with a little more force, her hind legs between his, balancing herself against him as she continued to rub her way down and across. He could almost feel her chest fluff tickling his nose, could smell her scent, and for the technically mediocre quality of the massage as she progressed to his collar, shifting her weight more to hind legs and balancing herself as she went, her sweet little hums and tangy smell intrigued him, ensnared him in her aura, made him want nothing but to keep this moment going...

Author's Note

Apologies for the delay between chapters. I've had a lot of personal things going on at the moment and have been in a bit of a bind...

If you could read this latest blog I would really, immensely appreciate it. It explains a lot.

Happy reading: I appreciate you guys so much.