Royal Hospitality

In the grand palace at Canterlot, everything was an elegant affair. Even if the elegance was muted by ordinariness or repetition, it was still more than what most experienced in other places. Even a meal could be a to-do when there was a reason.

The table at the royal sisters’ private dining chamber was spread with the finest: Neighpon-made silk tablecloth and napkins, silverware of the purest grade, white gold candelabra with pure beeswax candles standing in them, a floral centerpiece that included poison joke and black roses, and numerous serving trays made of silver plated in gold. On those trays, the finest foods that could be produced. Salads of succulent leaves and only the tenderest and tastiest candied flower petals. Sandwiches of flavorful sweet-grass and watercress. Piles of steamed timothy hay. Roasted vegetables of every description. Desserts of all sizes and description, including one large, beautiful apple pie sitting at the center of the table. Decanters of cut crystal stood in perfect arrangement, holding all manner of juices and soft drinks.

The company at the table was spectacular as well. Sitting at the head of the long table was the wondrous princess Celestia, resplendent in her finest attire, gold polished and coat curried to shining propriety. On one side of the middle of the table was princess Luna, sitting grandly, head high, her crown and accoutrements glittering perfectly. She was not, however, looking at her sister. Her eyes were focused across the table. There across from her was the guest of honor. Not honored for any particular reason, but for his presence. Bad Apple. The exile of Pericarp County, the Apple family’s disowned scion and the silent consort of the night. His caramel coat was clean and sleek, well-tended by the professional spa ponies of Canterlot. His black mane was slicked back and shining with the best quality pomade. He was in full regalia, a ruffle-chested white shirt tied closed at the throat with black lace in a bow, a black waistcoat and black jacket standing open. His flank was free, showing the red apple he bore, which had a wedge cut out, showing a mix of sickly greens within. He, too, did not see the great sun princess. His warm, chocolate eyes were locked to the stunning princess of the night.

“You couldn’t even wait for the meal to begin, could you? You didn’t even have the restraint to hold on for half an hour or so before your minds went elsewhere.” Celestia scowled, with mirth in her eyes as she consider the other two occupants of the table.

Luna replied, without looking to the side. “I do not understand your words, sister. What mean you by this? We are only en’rapt in the beams of our eyes. There be naught else happening. We would not dare to sully this table where we gain our deserved bread.”

“Really? Is that true, mister Apple? In that case, just what are you hiding under the table that’s lifting the cloth like that?”

“Oh come on… At least let me have that. I mean no offense to you but… Your sister is beautiful. And I feel very… Moved.” Bad Apple didn’t even blush. He just reached out and placed a sandwich on his fine ceramic plate, adding some steamed hay and roasted vegetables shortly after.

“He stands on ceremony, firmly. Propriety be his meat and drink. Naught is visible, but all be revealed to questing hooves that wish to feel. What harm can be in such a state? I do know his limits and may halt well before the threshold be crossed. He hath been in Canterlot but rarely, ‘tis true, but near each night, all night if we may, was spent in exploration of flesh. Each inch of mine body is part of his memory. And each inch of his be in mine. I may tell every paint speckle upon his stallion’s pride. Describe the very shade of each segment, even the thickness of medial ring. You need not fear.”

Celestia looked nonplussed. She was hearing about her sister’s intimate proclivities, in more detail than she had wanted. In response, she simply levitated an assortment of sandwiches to her plate, along with a salad, grilled vegetables, steamed hay and an entire decanter of carrot soda. “Well… Well. I see.” She began to dip down but quickly asked, “How many creases are there behind her left ear?”

“Four usually, very light, but five when it goes all the way back, and can almost be six, there’s a little dent when it twitches but can’t be called a real crease.” The answer given, he leaned down to start eating, eyes flicking aside to his crystal goblet which was slowly filled up with a magically-controlled stream of apple juice.

“Every. Inch.” Luna completed her serving of Bad Apple’s beverage and served herself the same, also giving herself two sandwiches, roasted peppers and a large slice of a rich, dense cake slathered with icing.
“Dessert already? My goodness. You remind me of the future Mrs. Sparkle.” Celestia looked blandly at Luna and daintily nibbled her steamed hay.

“Our physicians have determined stamina dost not come from naught. Peppers, to add spice to mine veins and feed my lusty power. And fat. Heavy cream, sugar, eggs. Energy. Concentrated energy, wrap’d as a delicious trifle.” She slowly, teasingly stroked her tongue over a frosting rose, tickling the delicate shaped petals at the tip with her tongue before licking it up and swallowing it. “Eat well, my bed-presser. If you quit before we have finished, I will wonder if I yet excite you.”

“Every day. Even when I’m not here you excite me.” Bad Apple took a sip of his juice and then, thinking it over, reached out to take a slice of cake himself. He fumbled with a server, but soon brought his leg back, as the cake was levitated to his plate. By Celestia.

“Do right by my sister. She deserves her happiness.”

“Princess… I would never let her down.”

The dinner done, and the food distributed to the palace workers, Bad Apple and Luna were soon enough in her chamber. Metal clanged and cloth ruffled as princess and earth pony shed their attire to bare their bodies to one another, rich caramel fur and black main and tail pressing quickly against dark purple fur and a flowing, ethereal main and tail.

“I would have you use your aubergine… in time. I did touch too fondly, and too well. Our supper was too long of sport. ‘Twas my doing. But I must take what I must take.” She kissed the slightly-smaller pony with a hungry intensity, motions in each of their cheeks showing tongues doing battle within mouths, invading and playfully warring. She extracted her tongue with a sigh, slowly pulling back but keeping her lips tight on the tongue that had invaded her maw. With a smack of her lips she released the tongue and smiled. “And you give what you must give. Fear not. I, too, have visited the palace health baths. I, as you, tended to mine own tackle, and have sweetened myself in a manner you will enjoy.”

Bad Apple only smiled and gingerly licked his lips as Luna did a slow turn, to expose her deliciously-rounded flank. She had put some meat on her bones since last they had met. Concentrated energy indeed. “Such a thickened spot. Why it looks like a peach, or an apple from this angle. A juicy one at that. A bit of farm figure in that flank.”

Luna reached back to delicately strike her flank with her frog, creating an artful ripple of flesh. “Popolo grasso.” She stepped out her rear legs and slowly raised her ethereal tail. “’Twas long ago, when food was not so freely found, only those called nobles were able to eat in quantity and become fat. I recall those times well. And I still respect the body of long ago.” The tail cleared her plump cheeks of her hindquarters, revealing, at last, the feminine split between her long legs. “But yes… A farmer figure. Like any lusty country maiden. The seasons outside be pox’d. In this chamber, ‘tis time for you, my rustic lover, to go a’haying.”

Bad Apple slowly nosed in under that tail, the velvet-soft coat on his muzzle rubbing gently down along the creases of her flanks. He lipped softly in the area where the two slightly-stepped out legs touched, fleshy mound to fleshy mouth. As stated, the area was perfumed. A sweet scent of aromatic resins and vanilla. His nibbling lips went down to the object of his quest. The folds of Luna’s divine passage. The scent there changed. Spicy, like cinnamon and nutmeg. His tongue touched the very lowest point and slowly ran up the right side. Apple. She had anointed herself with an apple-flavored oil, together with the barest taste of cinnamon and vanilla. Apple pie a la mode. “This meal is rich…”

“But your maid be poor.” Luna’s horn glowed, transforming the staid and traditional bedroom into a field. Rolling hills spread out in the distance, while great apple trees stood close by. The formal regal attire had changed appearance, overlaid by a glamour of humble peasant clothes from long ago. But Bad Apple’s fallen clothing remained the same, only laid atop an illusory blanket. “Please, I am only an orchard-tender’s daughter. Good sir noble, be easy upon my flushed and rustic body. I am unused to the sweet passions and heavy heat of a stallion. Should my father espy us…”

“He has no power over me.” The libraries of Canterlot were well stocked; better than those of Bad Apple’s home. They had even more works of the early periods. More than mere chivalric tales of knights and dames and their lords and ladies waiting for rescue. The bawdy tales of nobles and the lusty commoners beneath them; or the inverses, commoners climbing above their position atop a noblewoman or ascending from beneath a nobleman. Such wanton things, and so perfect for inspiration. “I own this land. And I will see it’s plenty used well.” His tongue dipped past the lips, turning a touch while his head rubbed those soft cheeks once more.

“Vast tracts…” Luna huffed the words out with a breathy moan following, head held erect and tilted slightly back. Her front legs lowered slightly, to make her hindquarters seem more lifted and outthrust. The plump rear cheeks quivered from the combination of feather-soft stroking by velvet fur, and the more intimate and direct brush of a warm, wet tongue, which traced the flavored and moistened folds of her femininity. “To be run under with the plough, lands plumped full of aubergine-thick tamping, and laid out with seed. Dissate.”

The licking continued, unabated while the plan was related. Bad Apple ran his tongue slowly up and down along the line of the sweet flesh. His lips flapped, speaking sweet nothing while saying nothing at all, merely whispering his velvet-soft lips along the spread crease. The folds of flesh were equally tended, brushed with lips and tongue alike, while the muscle dipped progressively deeper, tasting the most delicious chalice of liquid in all of Equestria.

“Delve deeply, good sir noble… The depths of the land quiver and cry for the touch of a worthy stallion.” She smiled slyly and looked back with a fawning, half-lidded pleasure. “But could such an honest tongue serve such a task? Surely only the eely part of a scoundrel could twist and jump sufficient to service the la-AH!”

While his technique was being questioned, his pride was moved. The tongue suddenly began to twist and turn, digging deep and running up along the ribbed inner surface, flicking at each ridge with the dexterity of one used to quacksalver quickness in hawking baubles and patent concoctions while overpowering commentary from the audience. The face pressed in tightly between the thick cheeks, lips spreading up and down while the other side spread left and right. The tongue dug down with a wiggling movement, stretching as far as possible down the welcoming, gripping tunnel. His lower lip, and some portion of his chin, uncovered and massaged against the dense nerve bundle that rested at the lower reach of the split.

Luna huffed loudly, mouth hanging open for a moment before she snapped her mouth closed with a small snap and a seething huff through her teeth. Her breath snorted from her nose with a deep groan from far in her chest. Forelegs and hindlegs were now both stepped out, locking her solidly to the illusory orchard ground, and they trembled as she tried to control herself. She fought the urge to grind back, to push against the delicious touch and roll of tongue and grind of lips and chin. Her loins were aflame with pleasure but she could not give in. It was not her job to enhance the action. She had to take it. And she loved it.

The twisting, drilling, grinding action was performed in a seemingly chaotic fashion, by careful design. Everything was done to approach rising pleasure that would cascade into climax, but which could be dialed back with very little modification to bring pleasure down to a mid-range sensation. His tongue worked in a wave, rising up and sliding down before falling and grinding hard, twisting at some points in each roll, to tease and tickle every inch that could be reached.

All the careful teasing and precise control could not stop the inevitable arrival of the peak of pleasure. With a sharp cry just shy of the Royal Canterlot Voice, her head shot up and wings thrust out in a grand spread, a shudder running through her whole body. The chalice being tended overflowed with musky, cloudy liquid, washing out the fancy flavoring and leaving only the natural taste of a supernatural mare. And despite the sweeping away of a sweet treat, Bad Apple supped and licked without hesitation. His hunger was not slaked until the last of the shudders faded from his divine lover. Only then did his tongue slither out with a wet slurp. “I think the land… is prepared.”

The glamour faded from the scene, revealing the chamber once more. But it did not last long. A new illusion went up, as Luna panted and sighed, straightening back up on jelly legs that slowly firmed back up, until she stood in regal posture again. The scene resolved itself into the image of a rough-hewn chamber, as in some ancient keep’s great hall. Luna levitated her crown back onto her head and sighed, looking seriously down on Bad Apple. “Now, our faithful steward. Thou hast been called here into our presence to see if thou art worthy of our graces. We have been offered the pathetic produce of inferior gardens. Our prior choices offered carrots and courgettes. We were not impressed with the offerings. Our nobility demands better. And what of thee? We have seen thy lusty eye upon our body. Prove thou hast cause for taking such liberties with the beams of thy eyes.”

Bad Apple stood slowly and discreetly licked the fluid from around his mouth. He approached slowly, head down but eyes up, seeming both servile yet also daring. Once he was a respectful distance from Luna he suddenly reared up, legs kicking lightly as he tossed his oiled mane. Though nothing moved the effect was clear. Revealed by the rearing was his stallionhood. The bride of his belly bobbed lightly out of his sheath, hanging more than perpendicular to the floor under its own weight. The greater portion of it was a pale pink, especially around the middle, in the region of the thick ridge known as the medial ring. Below an irregular border that resembled a painted blob the flesh was dark brown; above the pinkish portion edged by an irregular border was an angry dark purple color. The whole of it throbbed, bouncing softly with the beat of his heart. Well below dangled the warm caramel sac containing his testes, which resembled overly-substantial full-season honeycrisp apples.

Luna’s eyes only did not grow in size because she was used to the sight. Her tongue slid smoothly along her lip, almost imperceptible as she worked to maintain a neutral visage. “Aye… Thou hast indeed grown a fine aubergine from a most… fertile soil.” She reached out to gently prod the hanging sac with the fleshiest part of her frog, making it sway lightly. “I have need of such enriching orbs. I feel their strength. How they churn, quick with essence. Pure… power…” Her head dipped in quickly, her lips giving the flared, mushroom crown a deep, adoring kiss.

His body shuddered, but he remained on his hooves. “I am glad to serve you.” The shuddering increased as the head was caressed with lips and gentle flicks of Luna’s tongue. His forelegs kicked a bit more, maintaining balance, and increasing the bounce in his loins and the magnificence of his appearance. “I will not let you down.”

Suddenly, a glow surrounded Bad Apple’s upper body, securely holding him in place, but leaving his legs free to kick as he pleased. “Nor shall we let thee down…” The tongue slid down slowly, tracing along the medial ring, in three distinct passes. She first traced along the lower portion aimed toward the base, breathing hot breath over the twitching flesh. The next hot swath tickled lightly over the portion aimed at the crown, tongue moving in little flicks more than gentle traces. At last, she rubbed the raised portion, her tongue loaded with saliva, her motions agonizingly slow as they swept along the whole of the thick ring of flesh.

Every breath, every touch, every little motion that teased across that standing pole of flesh made the owner shudder and shift on his hooves. His breath panted out in desperate huffs, eyes going between lightly closed and wide open. But through all the shifting and shuddering, his hips remained rock-like. He did not thrust at the pleasuring mouth, nor did he desperately grind against the silky-smooth face that rested right against his belly, long horn rubbing against his flesh, slightly tingly with the magical force emerging from it.

The attention to the medial ring complete, the magical aura bent Bad Apple back, further and further until he described a graceful reversed arch, forelegs giving a gleeful kick. The motion was necessary; it moved his body away from Luna’s horn as she faced him, and his pulsing, flat-crowned penis. With a wet lick around the rim of what would be the flare, her head dropped down suddenly, mouth wide, engulfing the flesh, with her lips acting as protection against her teeth as they passed the head.

Her unshod hooves reached back to gingerly cup and roll his hanging sac, caressing them with the softest parts of her fleshy frogs. Encased in the elaborate and all-containing shoes as they near-always were, she had never been calloused or roughened in her experience. Like brushed silk across a velvet pouch, containing two very well-sized fruits. But very unlike a mere velvet pouch, this bag had an owner that could feel every tender caress, and he expressed his delight with moans and long, groaning sighs from the depths of his chest.

Luna’s head shuttled down and up as though she were working a loom, her actions smooth and perfect. Despite the skills she showed, for the benefit of her bent audience she allowed the occasional sound from her mouth. Gurgles, gluks, even small chokes came from her well-stuffed mouth. She enhanced the visual of it by puffing and hollowing her cheeks, letting them pull as she went down and air was forced up, and hollowing again as she pulled back, her sucking pressure growing large around that sensitive head.

Luna snorted loudly every few pumps of her head, her throat rolling and swallowing strongly around the pole that pulsed and spit thin, spicy fluid. She used all of her muscular control and experienced contact to hold the climax in abeyance. It succeeded for a time, but she knew it would come. At the first feel of pull from those testes in her hooves she rammed her head down far as she could, bulge pushing down her long, elegant throat as she pressed her lips down into the edge of Bad Apple’s sheath. The first thick pulse of seed gushed almost directly into her stomach. She ratcheted back, going up a short way, swallowing, then continuing. Bad Apple had plenty of thick semen for her. Enough that once she had his flared head in her mouth there was still enough spurting to slightly fill her cheeks.

Luna opened her mouth wide, pulling back to allow the flare-crowned length to slip from her mouth on the carpet of her tongue, the spent rod flopping down and swinging, dripping a mixture of saliva and late-arriving semen. Luna released the testes that had just granted her a delicious meal, levitating a gold goblet to herself and lightly allowing the semen to run out, filling the cup. She toasted the arched Bad Apple and then drank slowly from it.

She lightly licked her lips as she slid back and slowly lowered her lover back to his hooves. “Well done, dear steward. Thou shalt be made tender of mine chamber. Though shalt back me, according to thy inches. Indeed, thou shalt have a long and glorious service.” The goblet was finished and set back down to the side.

“It is my pleasure to serve.” Bad Apple panted softly and gave his legs a few stamps as the scene resolved itself back to normal. His aubergine had halted halfway to full flaccidness, lightly shaking on his belly as he moved. “Don’t mind me. Don’t worry. I’ll have it back in shape in no time.”

“I trust you. You are ever in earnest about your cod when we are together. A loyal spire it is, a tower made for mine hungry body. Do not distress yourself. We have many hours for our belly sports.” Luna reached beneath Bad Apple and bounced his soft flesh. The mere touch brought back a surge of blood, plumping the thick length. “Witness… The flesh rises at my touch, aubergine crown eager to claim a proper place.”

“My flesh is rather intelligent. It knows what is best in life. After all, how often do I have with such a beautiful mare?” He smiled and flexed muscled in his hips, slapping the dropped organ repeatedly against his stomach, swelling it back into its proper size.

“Ideal. Come then, my consort. A second pleasure looms for us both.” Luna reared up grandly, then slammed her forelegs down on the bed, pressing into soft mattress and sheets with a grand wobble of the surface. “I would be loved in this new configuration. I have read of Diamond Dogs loving and loved thus. I embrace all new things in your embrace.”

“Mmm, upright Diamond Dog Style. I’ve heard of this too. I can’t wait to try it.” Bad Apple approached slowly, rearing up only when he was close to Luna’s rear, his forelegs reaching around her barrel and giving it a squeeze. His hind end hopped awkwardly forward, twitching, erect organ swept by Luna’s ethereal tail as it aimed for the passage he had prepared between her plump rump cheeks. The moist mushroom of a tip prodded blindly at the backside, jabbing the rounded flanks several times before his eager questing met her sopping passage. His aim true and settled he rammed forward with a cry of pleasure. His jerking hips drove the tri-toned rod of flesh into the warm tunnel, ramming large portions of his flesh deep into her.

Luna had been merely panting and moaning as the great rod pounded into her, shuddering in delight. But as the thickened medial ring passed it ground hard against her sensitive clitoral bulge, which had been pushed out from its coverage. The internal grind of that blunt crown and the sudden flick and stroke from the smooth bulge caused Luna to cry out in the Royal Canterlot Voice. She rocked the windowpanes and rippled the curtains. She was free to to so; all the servants have been cleared from that part of the palace, nopony in position to hear her screams of pleasure.

Nopony but one. Princess Celestia’s chamber was just within range to listen to her sister’s pleasured cries. She listened intently to the rise and fall of the cries, while she moved about her room and gathered up certain items from chests and her closet. A large metal container with rubber tubes leading away and combining into a single, thick tube was suspended from a wooden frame. A squat box was placed on the bed and opened up to reveal a collection of sculpted phalluses. They were all exactly identical, differing only in their materials: One of polished marble, one of pure gold, and one of pure ebony, lacquered and buffed to mirror gloss. She lifted out the ebony one, looking to the wall suddenly as the screams wavered and escalated into a higher-pitched squeal.

In the ensuing silence Celestia stretched the rubber tube over the lowest part of the carved penis. Opening a small valve on the container sent out a small hiss of air and then a light dribble of some whitish liquid, like a thinned lotion. Satisfied it was cleared of air, she turned it off again.

After the faux organ had been set up, the screams began again, slightly subdued but unmistakably the noise of rising carnal delight. She turned her hindquarters to the device and, the ebony object held tightly in her magical grip, rammed it forward at her rear. After a few false starts, probing and nudging against her thighs and flank cheeks, she hit home, sinking it deeply and smoothly into her willing lips.

The flesh molded around the fake rod, while she bit down tightly on a pillow. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut while she groaned into the pillow. The screams of her sister created a lewd background to the squelch and splatter of fluid on the floor as she pumped herself with the polished toy.

She worked with a slow, smooth motion. It was not the desperate ram of a lustful single mare, but the controlled, almost elegant pumping that might belong to a caring lover. Both princesses groaned and cried in pleasure under their tending, Luna aloud, Celestia into her pillow. But the pillow slipped out of her lips as she hit a sudden peak, her magic opening the valve wider than before and closing it again several times, unleashing thick blobs of the faux ejaculate into her, no scream coming from her open mouth, merely hard pants and soft words, “Cre… scent…”

The End