Introductory Stress Session
This was not how Raven had scheduled her Tuesday.
It was not in her job description. It was not in her resume of skills or talents. It was not covered in any of the training she had received, or in the many seminars and symposiums, she had attended in the course of preparing herself to be a royal secretary.
Not even close.
“A-are you sure I can do this? That I should do this?” Raven gulped, half-squeaking, half-whispering to Princess Celestia.
“Hm hm hm,” Celestia let out a stifled giggle that somehow made her seem even more regal than her impeccably majestic self, “Don’t worry my little pony, I wouldn’t ever ask you to do something I didn’t feel you were ready for, and that I wouldn’t do myself.”
Raven gulped, stifling the desire to duck under her beloved boss’s left wing to hide from the situation.
They were currently in Celestia’s private quarters, a small room just behind the main throne room in Canterlot, a place that was meant for the monarchs to retreat to when they needed a break… or for a meeting to take place in a less formal, more intimate setting.
“O-of course, y-your highness.” Raven gulped again and fumbled at her stylish black glasses, which seemed to be fogging up for the third time in the last 5 minutes. Her face was burning hot, nearly the same temperature as her overheating brain, which was struggling to catch up with this completely unplanned and unscheduled addition to her very busy agenda…
This agenda item was supposed to be something that Celestia did (with the rare substitution of Luna from time to time)... not her!
It was clearly marked on her clipboard - ‘1 PM-3 PM Monthly Guard Appreciation and Stress Relief Session’.
Just as it had been every month for the last five years she’d been promoted from the secretarial pool and given her dream job. Raven’s predecessor, Cosmic Flash, had pointed out the entry all those years ago with a wry grin and a wink…
… “Don’t you worry about these items on the calendar - just wait outside and make sure the door is locked, her Majesty will take care of it all by herself.” Cosmic smiled fondly, sighing and relaxing for the first time in front of her soon-to-be-replacement.
“But… I’ve seen you attend those sessions all the time… are you sure there’s nothing I need to do to help her Majesty? Surely I could prepare some refreshments or-” Raven had asked, ready to take detailed notes.
“No. You will wait outside.” Cosmic’s wrinkled crow-feet intensified as her harsh demeanor returned.
“B-but you assist with those guard sessions! What do you do? HR counseling? Training sessions? Motivational videos? I can he-”
“No.” Cosmic had looked Raven up and down, inspecting the young mare’s body with a discerning eye, before a blush appeared on the old, wizened mare’s face. “No… my dear, Celestia will choose when your body is ready for that particular assignment!”
Raven gulped, thinking back on her younger self, and her naivety. At the time, she’d thought that those sessions were just another way for Celestia and Luna to take care of their stoic, professional guard cadre. Maybe a session to address their concerns in an open Q&A forum, allowing them to speak up and hold more casual conversations that would otherwise be impossible as they held their long, silent watches in the castle corridors.
But she’d learned quickly that was not what was going on behind those doors on the first Tuesday of every month.
She could still remember the first time she’d waited outside the sealed doors of the private inner chambers, trying to catch up on her paperwork as she maintained a careful watch over the covert entryway -- designed to look like just another part of the royal chamber wall. She hadn’t heard anything of course… the soundproofing spells were far too advanced for that.
But when it had finally ended and Celestia stepped back into the royal audience room, the smell had hit her like a level 10 force spell to the face.
No mare could mistake that smell.
The smell of a stud. Many studs. Many satisfied studs.
At the time Raven had been close to her ‘time of the season’, though had not actually entered her estrus yet, and she’d been delaying taking the foul-smelling ‘moon tea’ suppressant that had been her go-to since she was a filly… she abhorred the practice of satisfying those primal urges with a ‘cooler’ (such an annoying euphemism for a dildo that squirted medicinal, cooling fluid), or even worse going on some pathetic heat-date like other secretaries in the general pool would titter about.
But just smelling the conclusion to that first ‘stress-relief’ session sent her gut-wrenching, her insides clenching and her… nethers… aflame.
It had led to the only sick days that Raven had ever taken in her employment history. A week of painful and sweaty urges and desires had kept Raven locked up and desperate. An apologetic Celestia had come to check on her several times, much to Raven’s embarrassment, and ever since then, Raven had made sure to steer well clear of the door when she was near her seasonal estrus.
But there was no doubt after that experience: what went on in that private room, once a month, was weapons-grade sexual.
Knowing her place, Raven had never brought it up with either of the crown princesses -- content to use a couple of hours to quietly do her work, and avoiding letting her mind wander toward thoughts of what might be going on behind that door. What her Princess might have been doing, or what Cosmic would have done back in her day.
Content to stay ignorant, that is, until her agenda for today showed a clear edit from the unmistakable Royal script of Celestia’s Hoof… a note showing that she would be participating today.
And so, here she was, practically cowering under the wing of her boss, her mentor, her Princess as the regal mare lay comfortably perched on a small bed of velvet cushions.
Raven could feel the gaze of the guard-stallions in the room, all of them silently in formation along the far wall, except for their sergeant, a gray-furred pegasus who stood stock still in front of them, chest proudly jutting forward.
They were at attention, but unlike their usual supernatural ability to gaze into the middle-distance and blend, statue-like, into the background… all of them were looking at her, their steely gazes tracing up and down her body.
She could feel their attention like laser-spell dots flitting over her body, her face, her mane, her flank…
“Are you ready, my little pony? I can assure you that Sergeant Cloud Strike is.” With a gentle nudge of her wing, Celestia managed to both gesture to the stoic sergeant to approach and give Raven a small push toward him.
Managing to catch her hooves underneath herself before she stumbled, Raven gulped and looked up at the handsome guardspony, who towered over her.
She’d seen him around, of course. Visitors to the castle might be fooled into thinking that all the guards were identical. Raven knew that there was some kind of glamor-spell woven into their armor that set their appearance to the more common gray and white-coated soldiers that were so common… but it wasn’t a perfect spell; each guard still had subtle differences in their build, their features, or the hues of their eyes. Over time, castle staff could recognize which platoon was on duty, and you could even begin to guess at the personalities under those stoic exteriors.
The massive sergeant trotted up to her, the beginnings of a smile forming on his face, something Raven was entirely unused to in the usually emotionally-constrained guard. As he approached, her eyes went up, higher and higher, and she had to resist the urge to crane her neck backward to keep her eyes on the handsome stallion’s face.
They really ARE big. Raven gulped.
She knew that the recruiting policy for the elite force of guardsponies that formed Celestia’s royal bodyguard was stricter than any other -- she’d personally had to deal with some of the delicate legal tiptoeing in writing the HR forms that excluded ponies of smaller stature without opening grounds for a discrimination lawsuit.
And once they joined the royal bodyguard, all the usual restrictions on magical steroidal enhancements and potions went out the window… there were no rules or laws when it came to Celestia’s safety. Raven knew from her monitoring of the accounting ledgers that most newly-minted royal bodyguard stallions would go through three to four sets of armor in their first year… as their already bulky bodies grew under the boosting effects of the palace’s expert mages and apothecaries.
So when the sergeant finally stood next to Raven, the pair could have been mistaken for a parent and foal from afar. The diminutive secretary blinked again and adjusted her glasses, her eyes craning up in their sockets to peer up over the tops of her stylish, designer frames.
“Hello Ms. Raven, my name is Strike Flare.” The rumbling baritone hummed through Raven’s chest, setting her already pounding heart aflutter despite the gentle, smiling tone with which it had been offered.
“I… Uhm... I’m R-raven.” She bumbled out, her mind still in the process of rebooting.
“Uh… yeah, I know that.” Strike chuckled, half-snorting. “I guess you must be a bit nervous, I’m sorry about that -- but please let me say the biggest thank you from the bottom of my heart. Me and the boys were so happy to hear from Her Majesty that you wanted to volunteer this month in appreciation for all the work we do.” He smiled.
Raven’s eyes darted over to Celestia, who was unreadable, her eyes closed placidly with a grin on her face… Raven had seen the expression before - when Celestia had eaten Luna’s last piece of cake. Annoyingly, the Princess’s closed eyes didn’t allow Raven’s furious, accusatory glance to penetrate.
Noticing her hesitation, Strike’s head tilted slightly in confusion, though he was still smiling. “I… uh… can’t say enough about how excited we all are,” his fair flipped attractive as he nodded back over his shoulder at the other guard-ponies standing at attention, “I know I’ve confiscated more than a few contraband photos of you in the barracks. You know, from when you dressed up as Princess Platinum for last season’s hearth-warming eve pageant?”
Raven was surprised her glasses weren’t melting onto her face - the skimpy costume for the pageant had been sprung on her last second… by Celestia of course.
“A-ah…” was all she managed to say.
Strike seemed to sense something was wrong, his smile beginning to falter. “I-is everything OK? You don’t need to be embarrassed, none of us will say a word about anything that happens in this room on our solemn honor. You do… want to do this right?”
“Uhh… o-of course, sergeant.” Raven’s mouth contorted in a half-grin, half grimace.
It was strange how the words just poured out of her mouth, as if they had bubbled up straight from her heart, now that her brain had gotten out of the way. It would have been so easy to say no, to say that this was all some trick from Celestia, before storming out.
And yet she didn’t.
Raven struggled to consider why. Desperately trying to get her brain to catch up with the situation.
“Sergeant - enough talking to the poor mare,” Celestia interjected before either Strike or Raven would be able to take stock of the situation and end her fun. Celestia’s eyes snapped open, a devilish fire of impious impropriety burning within before she grinned and sang out a lilting order: “Present arms!”
The Sergeant snapped out a quick salute, nodding with a beaming smile at raven as his wings flared out and he reared up.
If he had seemed large before, now he seemed to fill the room -- the pegasus easily had a wingspan three times Raven’s body length… and standing up on his hind legs put even his shoulders outside of Raven’s reach, even if she were standing on her tippy toes.
But Raven had little time to marvel at Strike’s wingspan, or height… her eyes were drawn… lower.
They REALLY are BIG. The thought flashed in Raven’s mind once again, though in an entirely different context.
She wasn’t sure how she could have missed the absolutely jaw-dropping pole hanging from Strike’s nethers as he exposed his underbelly to her with a massive flap of his wings, suspending himself in perfect balance such that his huge hoof rested on the back of her mane with only the lightest of touches.
It could have been the glamor woven into the armor. Raven dimly recalled Luna threatening an ambassador from the griffon nation some time ago, telling the crotchety bird-lion ‘By your bold nature I might almost be convinced that thou thinkest thy grapes art sufficient to frighten ME… let me assure you, sir, wouldst my bodyguard drop their facades and turn in a circle, you would see why no PONY would ever blush at even the WEIGHTIEST of matters.”
Luna always did have a way with words… but Raven could understand immediately why the royal guardspony glamor-spells included a modesty veil… this would certainly be a distraction in court.
Strike’s penis was only half-erect, though it had already protruded well beyond simple tumescence, nearly fully extended from his sheath. It matched the color of his coat - a dull grey with only the slightest of sheens as it swung down from his lower abdomen… if Raven didn’t know better, she might have mistaken it for some kind of strange, 5th leg… even partially-soft it looked thicker and more robust then some actual legs she had seen.
And nearer to the base hung a pair of huge, smooth as eggs, pulsing, swinging… BALLS.
There was no other way to describe them -- Raven had thought that stallions were supposed to have testicles the size of walnuts. But Strike seemed to be packing something that looked more like a pair of apples in a fleshy gray sack.
“I… uh…” Raven clutched her clipboard, her eyes racing over Strike’s package again and again. Like any mare, she’d seen her share of stallionhoods… usually sheathed, though sometimes you would catch an unfortunate stallion with a semi-turgid or even accidental erection. But Raven had been raised politely - it was easy to not stare… those were just strange, funny little bits that flopped about… like small sausages.
This. This was not that.
This wasn’t some dinky sausage. This was… BIG.
Strike’s stallionhood was as thick as her forearm near the tip, where it dangled with weighty bounces as the stallion drew breath, the pure gray sheen stretched for what seemed an eternity, not marred by any veins or discolorations, except for the sizable bulge of his corpus spongiosum at the bottom of the fleshy cylinder. The upper part of his shaft was easily as long as her clipboard before his penis was segmented by a jaw-droppingly thick medial ring… which gave way to what seemed like an anatomically impossibly massive, girthy, base.
Raven resisted the urge to reach out with her clipboard and take a measurement.
“Ahem,” Celestia interjected, quickly ripping Raven’s rapt attention from Strike’s pride. The princess looked annoyed, even a little angry.
“W-what, what did I d-” Raven began to stammer, panic arising in her gut. Was she supposed to do something or…?
“Sergeant -- Raven is my personal secretary and a dear friend. She deserves all the same respect and decorum that you would have given me. When I ask for you to present, I expect you to be at attention!”
“Yes, your Highness!” Strike barked, one of his forehooves zipping to his forehead.
Raven watched with fascination as the stallion’s powerful barrel muscles rippled, a clench of pure, tuned muscular strength squeezing down toward his powerful nethers.
In three powerful surges, Raven watched the handsome guardpony’s half-erect stallionhood expand to a full, straining, twitching erection.
Each thumping pulse happened so fast, that it was over in a few heartbeats: the first ripple had filled his dangling pride with red-hot blood, thickening what was already too thick, lengthening what was already too long… and making the flat tip of his stallionhood turn into a dome-shaped, hoof-sized bell-end.
The second pump jerked his whole organ upwards, like an elephant lifting his massive trunk… as powerful muscles in Strike’s body stabilized the whole swinging organ as it filled with too much blood to dangle, the now rock-hard pole swinging up to slap against his toned-stomach with an audible *SLAP*.
The last pump immediately slapped his stallionhood against his belly again *SLAP*, his flare touching a spot just above his belly button. The last rush of blood reminded Raven of a time she’d overfilled a water balloon as a foal… the way the skin of the balloon had strained and stretched as it had grown in her hooves beyond what seemed possible. Strike’s organ, now pressing tightly against his belly, stiffened and throbbed with angry, tense fullness. What was once smooth was now covered in angry little veins and arteries, each pulsing in time with his heartbeat, as his whole stallionhood grew by almost a quarter in length and girth.
Raven was sure the entire room could hear her heartbeat, it was pounding so loud in her chest.
What she was looking at wasn’t a penis, it wasn’t a stallionhood like she had seen in those fumblingly embarrassing high-school health-ed pamphlets, or even the impressive and often exaggerated offerings in naughty magazines she’d catch glimpses of in the secretarial cafeteria, with those mare tittering and bemoaning the lack of such pornographic dimensions in the Canterlonian dating scene.
This was so much bigger than those. So much… more bestial… Raven gulped, admitting to herself: so much… better.
The only thing she could even compare it to was something from a biology textbook she’d found in the archives, one that detailed the evolutionary descent of modern pony physiology, using magic to capture and reconstruct their feral ancestors from millions of years in the ancient past.
Horses.
She remembered the diagrams of the giant, unintelligent, fast-running, muscular powerhouses in that dusty tome… and remembered how she’d flipped past the section on their reproductive organs with a mighty blush of embarrassment.
But that was what Strike had… not a stallionhood, or a penis, or a dick.. Or whatever other trite euphemism the other secretarial fillies might use… he had a horsecock. He was more horse ‘down there’ than he was a modern-day pony. That… monster of a horsecock was from a different time… looking like something that would destroy any pony of her size. Perhaps only a pony the size of Celestia or Luna could have…
Ah! Raven had the beginnings of a suspicion that perhaps the royal bodyguard’s insistence on size and strength in selection and enhancement might have more to do with intimidation. But before she could put the pieces together in her mind Celestia spoke.
“Better.” Celestia hummed, settling back into her placid state, “and do not hold back on your… outputs, Sergeant. I am sure Raven will enjoy your perfume. I always do.”
Raven’s eyebrow arched in semi-confusion… but only for a moment. She wasn’t sure what she experienced first: the smell or the sight. Certainly, her nostrils flared with intense stimulation before her eyes saw the cause…
In the center of Strike’s fat flare, a burble of white liquid pulsed out of his drinking-straw sized urethral slit… it looked as thick as a vanilla milkshake, or carpenter’s glue, as it bubbled out of him like a weak drinking fountain.
And Goddesses did it smell good! Raven felt a wave go through her like she hadn’t felt since all those years ago when she’d first caught a whiff of the ‘monthly stress relief sessions’. It was some scent she could never quantify… a mixture of masculine oak and ash, mixed in with a cologne of pungent, bitter, stink… combining into what something deep within her only quantified as pure sex.
Raven’s knees shook with sudden weakness and she fell back into a seated position… but was glad that she had done so… her now-concealed bottom would have otherwise tail-flagged the whole line of guardsponies, showing off her the embarrassing, sudden swell of her nethers as they filled with heat and began to moisten. As it was, she was sure every one of the observant stallions would see her tail thrashing against the ground.
Raven’s mouth dropped open involuntarily, her tongue feeling thick and languid behind her teeth like it wanted to pant out into the air to absorb more of the ripe pheromones floating through the air.
Strike’s heavy, thick pre-ejaculation poured from his tip in a thin, gossamer-shining strand to accumulate in a growing puddle at Raven’s hooftips. In almost no time at all the pool of intoxicatingly fragrant fluid was touching her hoof… the first contact… warm and wet and wonderful.
“Well, Raven?” Celestia questioned, her eyes still seemingly shut in pure contentment as her sing-song voice seemed to frustratingly confirm that the Princess was already assured of her scheming victory. “You have many stallions to relieve this afternoon, I would suggest you don’t keep the handsome Sergeant waiting.”
Raven gulped, looking over her shoulder to see that the other royal guardsponies had formed a line, in rank order of seniority, and were watching her and Strike with gazes of excitement, anticipation, and hunger.
Sweat was pouring down her forehead now, as her mind was aswim in all the conflicts blasting at her from different directions: her body felt like it was on fire… there was some tiny, ancient voice in her mind screaming at her to do unspeakable things to the phallus in front of her… her heart was burning with affection for her mentor and boss and the desire to do her proud… while her logical brain, punch-drunk from a multi-pronged assault, tried to assert some sort of reason and logic to the wildly developing situation.
“I… I understand that the Royal Guards require “Stress Relief” Princess… B-but must I really be the one to do the job?”
Celestia’s smile only grew as she crossed her forelegs, “Of course, my dear Raven… they like you a lot.”
[IMAGE GOES HERE: pony booru.org/images/3182737]
“B-but… how do I?” Raven leaned closer to the throbbing, massive organ, making one last insincere attempt to find a way out of this.
“Magic, I should think, for your first go.” Celestia chuckled, “Cosmic needed lots of practice before she could relieve any of my bodyguards physically. And though if you were to present yourself, I’m sure my sergeant would be happy to relieve you of that burning ache we can all smell now…”
Raven let out a small eep and tried (but failed) to squeeze-tuck her tail against herself. She could feel a certain wetness down below, as her body’s instincts betrayed her.
“...I think you might injure yourself without due preparation. You should ask my sister for access to her ‘personal’ toybox and its stretching implements. No, I think a magical relief should do for today, don’t you? Unless you are more of a ‘hooves-on’ kind of filly-”
“N-n-no! Magic, magic is fine.” Raven gulped, her eyes tracing up and down Strike’s length. She had good magic control -- magic would keep her technically distant from the stallion. Magic would make her focus, make her keep control.
“Very well! You… you do know the spell, of course?” Celestia impishly grinned. “You have used it, haven’t you?”
Raven’s horn lit up. Every unicorn knew the spell, of course. It was one of the first things young teenaged colts and fillies would develop, a small offshoot of the telekinesis spell. Instead of a simple manipulation field, you would expand the essence into a semi-solid kinetic field, a squishy little tube that could interact most pleasantly with the real world, mimicking the feel of warmth and flesh in a way that teenagers would quickly find a way to make use of.
Every unicorn-parent knew the embarrassing cry when knocking upon a locked door: ‘I'm working on my TK! Go away, Mom!’ The shout and the following rhythmic thumping were an indicator that their foal was having some ‘private time’.
For colts, the application was obvious - unicorns were quick to replace their hooves in the art of pleasuring self-masturbation.
For fillies, it was a bit more nebulous - yes you could use the field to push into oneself, in a pleasing way… but the yielding nature of the field was nearly always a distant second to something more tangible… at least unless the filly reaches much more difficult spell-craft levels that did allow them the ability to conjure phallic and very tangible energy fields. Clover the clever hadn’t gotten her moniker from her invention of cartography spells, that was for sure.
But fillies did like to imagine. So it wouldn’t be uncommon for tittering young girls to show off their ‘techniques’ around a circle at a slumber party… using some phallic-shaped piece of fruit, or a bedpost to demonstrate their frequency, size of field, swirling magical additions while laughing and naming their school-crush that they were thinking of.
Raven remembered how her filly-friends had always warned her that she’d need extra special magical flairs to her magic-job technique if she truly wanted to perform it on her crush, who was a unicorn-colt. All the fillies knew that the unicorn-colts would be much better practiced in magicjob skills.
Celestia’s eyes shot open and twinkled. “You haven’t, have you? You surprise me my little pony, you are so beautiful, and yet-”
“No! No, I have. I have!” Raven squeaked, igniting her horn, blushing like crazy. She didn’t want to seem like some kind of pathetic novice in front of these stunning, masculine studs.
Celestia smiled and tilted her head as if bemused while doubting the strength of Raven's claim. “Very well, please proceed.”
Raven gulped, snapping her horn-magic alight and conjuring her pink-aura’d magical field.
She hadn’t lied of course. She had given a magicjob to a stallion.
Once.
It had been a fumbling, boozy, regretful affair during her freshman year at college. An athletic, varsity-team pegasus that had been her dance partner had helped her back to her dorm room and in thanks, she’d whispered into his ear that she’d like to do ‘something’ nice for him.
Inside her room, he’d flipped onto her bed at her insistence and showed off his pride… a horn-sized stallionhood that at the time had seemed average. Next to Strike, he seemed like a prepubescent colt popping his first wood.
Still, at the time she’d immediately been intimidated by the masculine organ and abandoned her hasty decision to either fellate the lucky stallion or perhaps to even give away her maidenhood to him.
Instead, she’d snapped on her magical field, conjured the warm, buzzing kinetic TK blob, and immersed him in a grinding, stroking sensual experience…
…which lasted all of 30 seconds.
A couple of messy squirts which she’d managed to contain in her field to prevent messing up her sheets and rather pathetically feminine moans later… and it was over. After sobering up the next day, Raven had decided that the rather disappointing experience was not worth sacrificing her dream of being an important business-pony.
So her sexual-encounter notch still stood at one.
But that wasn’t zero.
With a gulp, Raven conjured the same field from all those years ago, shaping her magic-field into a cylindrical kinetic blob and pouring her focus and energy into it. The little pea-sized field grew, larger and larger, until it reached the practiced size she remembered… about the size of an elongated mini-donut… not much larger than a pill bottle.
Raven grimaced. What had been enough to completely encapsulate the stallion in her dorm room (with room to spare to catch his meager squirt)... looked ridiculous hovering near Strike’s… monster.
“Uhm… ha ha ha… I think my poor Sergeant would feel a bit pinched by that, Raven dear.” Celestia was holding a hoof over her mouth, trying not to burst out laughing.
“Ah, yes. O-Of course…” Raven grunted, struggling to grow the field, even with her advanced knowledge and power, she only managed to make something that looked barely wide enough to fit the massive girth of the captain… and to only cover the length of about a quarter of his huge size at a time.
But she couldn’t not try.
Raven swallowed deeply as she focused on the sergeant’s burbling tip, pressing messily into his otherwise pristine belly-fur, still slurping out prodigious quantities of pre-ejaculate. She nuzzled up her magical field against the tip, her eyes racing up to the pegasus’s face as she made contact.
“A-are you OK?” She mumbled, unsure if she’d done this right.
Strike looked at her curiously, still towering above her on two legs. “Yes Ma’am, please be as rough as you’d like. I can take it.”
Raven nodded, her ears burning as she was given the green light to play with this tremendous beast of a sexual organ.
Biting her lip in focus, she squeezed her field against the stallion’s tip, getting a muted sense of feedback from her field of heat, rigidity, and the slippery pour of pre-ejaculate that quickly slopped out of the center of her field to continue marking the palace floor.
“Mmmnnf!” The grunt was not coming from the stoic Strike, who was down with a grin, but from Raven… as she struggled to try to force the massive, saucer-plate-sized cocktip through the narrow opening of her magic field, compressing the otherwise incompressible horseflesh.
“C-c’mon!” She grunted, her field shining as it was deformed by the force of her magic against the flesh, threatening to burst and disperse.
“Here, ma’am.” Strike chuckled, shifting himself forward and straining his cock ever so slightly, just barely thrusting into her field.
Raven shuddered, imagining that same thrusting movement plunging into an actual marehood… perhaps even hers.
*POP*
An audible pop filled the room as the wide-tipped flare of Strike’s cock finally slipped into her magicjob field.
Raven could see how her field, far too tight for such an oversized specimen was choking even the thinnest (relatively) part of the sergeant’s penis, bulging compressed blood both above and below her pink, humming grasp.
“Ahh…!” This time the sergeant did grunt, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Raven’s blush managed to hide the small smile forming on her lips. She was making this huge, powerful stud grunt. Her!
“Not too long you too, we’re already a half-hour in and no-pony has been ‘relieved’ yet. I wasn’t planning on helping today, but you may force my hoof if you continue at this pace.” Celestia chided, mockingly. “Sergeant, please don’t hold back. Let fly as soon as able.”
“Y-yes, your… ah, Highness!” Strike grunted, his breath half-catching as Raven slid her magicjob down a half inch.
She’d made him make that noise! Her!
Raven grimaced, releasing the power she held in her magic right now. The raw masculine sex she was controlling.
“I… I’m going to start.” Raven nervously mumbled.
“Yes, ma’ ah… a’m…”
Raven pulled down on the huge organ, struggling to get the fat, rock-hard horsecock to separate from Strike’s belly and point outward… the sheer muscular power of the giant guardpony impossible to overcome.
Strike noticed what she was doing, and relaxed slightly, letting Raven take the weight of his penis into her magic.
So bucking heavy!
Raven thought, feeling the dense heat of Strike’s flesh in her magic, straining her slightly as she poured more energy into holding up the huge, fat cock.
Stroke… stroke… with gentle movements, Raven began to slide up and down the sergeant, never able to go beyond his medial ring or back over his flare-edge, both protruberances far too girthy for her tight, little field.
“Mmm…” the baritone hum came from above her.
As she slowly stroked, up and down, clumsily and without any of the whispered techniques of vibration, heat, or tingling or swirling that she’d discussed all those years ago, her blush continued to grow, her eyes opening wider and wider in amazement at what she was doing…
At what she was holding. Mastering.
She was jerking off the biggest, strongest stud of a stallion she could imagine! And he was like putty in her hooves!
Stroke, stroke… she began to pick up the pace, her confidence building.
She marveled at the wide figure-eight pattern they were ‘painting’ together on the floor with his pre-ejaculate. Each cloying, grasping stroke making his fat length bob and weave a slick trail of thick, pungent lubrication.
Stroke. Stroke.
Raven’s nervous eyes couldn’t wrench themselves from the drooling urethra of the sergeant as she found her rhythm. All that fluid. She realized with a nervous swallow that all of that pre-ejaculate was for her. In actuality, it was meant to be slathering her marehood, preparing it with a wet lube drenching so that this… thing could go inside her.
Stroke stroke stroke.
She grimaced in fear and felt a shudder through her body, that started between her shoulder blades but rocketed down through her gut, and into her bottom. Raven felt the sudden, cold press of the marble floor against her burning heat as her marehood winked out in her seated position to kiss the small, clandestine puddle that had formed beneath her.
Goddesses this was so hot.
“Ah! M-muh…ma’am!” Strike warned.
But she didn’t need to hear his warning, she was watching intently and couldn’t have missed the sudden, startling almost frightening change to his horsecock.
The stallion’s heavy testicles suddenly squeezed up against his body, slinging upwards from where they had been swinging heavily and low in their fleshy pouch to tense against his groin… and a wave of throbbing intensity spread from there up his pulsing shaft.
Inconceivably, even the girth of his full erect blossomed wider, his girthy, impossible base bulging outward as if a small balloon had been rapidly inflated inside him. The medial ring, already thick and imposing, transformed into a gray-slick donut of overwhelming size.
H-he’s going to cum! He’s cumming!
Raven’s thoughts raced, as she remembered back to her knowledge of sexual education, how a male would thicken as he climaxed to better seal himself into his mare. But this wasn’t like those pamphlets in high school, showing small minor changes in the penis’s physiology. Nor was it like that stallion that squirted into her field back in college, whom she hadn’t even noticed any change of.
This was like those hidden pages in that horse biology book. Big, scary changes: a thicker base, a wider medial ring… things that would embed themselves inside her if he were rutting her right now…
Raven grimaced in fear-excitement, wanting to shut her eyes but not daring to. She felt a trickle of something escape her marehood, a warm squirt of her body as her arousal peaked into a mini-climax of her own.
“Don’t stop, Raven dear… stallions like it if you go faster as they complete.” Celestia coached.
“Uh… uh huh!” Raven grunted, unable to mouth much more as her own body shook in time with her partner, the flush of the mini-orgasmic bliss setting fireworks in her pupils.
Stroke stroke stroke stroke stroke.
Raven pulled at him with all her might now, wanting him to pop. To cum. To cum for her.
She remembered with excitement the last phase of ancient equine orgasm from the textbook and marveled as she witnessed it live.
Strike’s cocktip bloomed. He flared. The already fat, hoof-sized knob almost seemed to invert, flattening out as his flare-edge expanded to a shockingly wide size. Inadvertently, Raven dropped her clipboard and pawed at her lower tummy with her free hoof, imagining… that… inside of her, of the bulge it would make in her as the huge sergeant exploded.
“Ahhhhhngh!” The rumbling roar made her fur stand on end as the first huge splatter of stallion-batter exploded from the sergeant’s horsecock.
Strokestrokestrokestrokestroke.
Raven never stopped pumping, as she felt bulge after bulge of red hot, steaming ejaculate blast from the heavy, twitching balls… up his throbbing shaft and her grasping magicjob… before slinging out in heavy ropes of thick, gooey batter.
Strokestrokestrokestrokestroke.
Rope after rope slung out, shooting an astonishing distance, more than twice her body length, and leaving long, messy track marks that came back to her hooves. Her nostrils were flaring with the spicy smell of the sergeant’s genetic material, her body aching at the smell. Somehow she knew that each and any of the fifteen shots of pure, potent, virile glue-thick cum would have made her with foal if he had been inside her.
Strstrstrstrstrstrstr…
Her mind was completely shut-off now as she watched more and more of the stud’s essence empty itself onto the palace floor. He was over twenty shots now. Forget catching even one of these ropes in her field… how could a stallion produce so much? If he had been cumming in her… she would be full to bursting.
St-st-st-st-st-st-st-st…
“Ah… ah… f-f-FUCK! MA’AM!” Strike grunted and roared, the last little bit of his massive ejaculation eking out of him, while Raven continued stroking at a high rate… polishing his now highly over-sensitive refractory-period cock.
Raven jerked back, dispelling her field, as she realized she was almost hurting the sergeant.
“Ah… ah… ah… ah... I… hah… hah… I’m so sorry.” Raven gasped out, not realizing that at some point she’d completely lost her breath in exertion while giving her magic job. Heavy, steamy breaths escaped her panting mouth, her dewy, sparkling, orgasmic eyes looked up at the groaning sergeant with lust. “I… hah… huh… got carried… hah… away.”
Raven swallowed, a sense of sadness starting to bloom in her as she watched her stud’s stallionhood begin to shrink, slowly retreating.
“N-no… hah… I… n-no…” Raven gasped, her body starting to move of its own accord as she reached out with a shaking hoof, taking hold of Strike’s mid-shaft. “I…”
She didn’t even know what she was doing, as she began to lean in her panting mouth opening and her tongue extending. She only knew what her body wanted. Needed.
She leaned in, opening wider and extending her tongue toward the dripping, slackening flared cock.
“Thank you, sergeant, that was wonderful. Please go get cleaned up.” Celestia seemed to whisk out of nowhere, taking Raven’s hoof gently and removing it from Strike’s horsecock.
Raven blinked, turning up to look at Celestia with desperate, needy eyes. “N-no… ah… hah… I need… I needed…”
“Shh… shh… my dear little Raven, you did very well for your first relief session. But as I said, you really must practice a bit before moving on to… more advanced methods of relief.” Celestia smiled warmly and winked. “Perhaps we should call it a month, and I can take care of the rest of the guard.”
Raven blinked, blood slowly returning to her mind. But even as her wits began to return… there was still that ache, that burning need she had suppressed her whole life. Waiting there, deep within her. The need all mares had.
“Please.”
Celestia smiled. “Well, I suppose there is still an hour left…”
[The end]
Author's Note
Hi everyone,
Yes, I'm not dead. No I'm probably not coming back (at the rate I used to write). I just saw a great picture from Shino on ponybooru and for some reason got the itch. So, enjoy!
What am I up to instead of writing? I have two dogs now, and a super busy (even busier than my corporate exec. job used to be) high-paying consultancy job which basically drains my day.
In addition to that, I do find I feel a bit guilty about my pony-writing. Don't try to change me on this, it's just how I am. I know I could be doing better things than writing smut, but the counter-argument I make is that if I wasn't smutting it up I'd be just jacking it to pictures anyway.
That said, I do have a basically completed littlepip story based on Shino's comic, so if this story is liked, I may roll around to actually getting it done and published.
Cheers,
Clops
