It was a cold winter in Equestria, harsh winds and blizzards blowing almost every day across the vast expanse of the domain. We were so close now, having endured so much in the long journey. I felt my hope reignite as the Everfree encroached on the distant horizon. There was no going home now, she had come too far. The little one has had a hard trip. Her dainty little legs had been galloping with all her might, following me as I chase a seemingly impossible dream. I couldn't afford any regrets. As of now I actually couldn't afford anything. Keeping the foal of a night of passion instead of taking a foal born from without love; fleeing the city of love, Seingalt, and then fleeing further outside the region of Cheval and into the royal domain of Canterlot.

All I had was immaterial things for myself, like hopes and dreams. For my crimes, my precious “La Petite” needed what little strength I could muster to survive a cruel world. And I give all of myself willingly. If not for myself. I would like to at least find my new life in Canterlot amicable for her, just so that my little one can live happily ever after. And for just that, I could stop calling myself a terrible mother for bringing her into the world. My world.

I fear that I might have to place all my aspiration through her. My heavy burden on those tiny shoulders.

I now know love is the cruellest thing in the world, cruel in a way only a mother would know.

*Years later*

As far back as I can remember my mother use to tell me all sorts of stories. Each had their little princess and the dashing prince that would sweep her off her feet. He would take her far far away, where she would live happily ever after. My prince was going to find me someday. She promised he would. And he was going to give me all of his love and then I would be happy.

Until then, I intend to wait, patiently waiting for the prince who would take me away.

“Why!?” His hoof came swinging for my face and hit squarely on my cheek. My face bloomed with feeling and my puffed cheek tingled as I smiled at the sensation.

Mr blue pony was a prince I loved but he'd never take me away. He'd always come to me and meet me here whenever he was upset and then leave again. He would leave me here, waiting for him once again. Maybe someday he'll finally do it. Someday soon, I could walk on the ground where the other ponies play.

Someday I'll leave this room. This room atop this hulking tower, where through a crystal window I can see the other world move below.

“Why couldn't I make that pegasus mine!?” His hoof slammed around the pillow on my head, the distinct thumps having me imagine the distinct crunch I'd feel if they connected to me.

“Such a soft flowing pink mane... such a calming yellow coat and eyes so innocent and pure!” Draping himself above me he kept me at hoof’s length. He looked into my eyes with water raining into my face, the saltiness tickled my cheek.

I wanted to rise to him and see his eyes up close. I wanted to feel the warmth of his closeness to me. But I couldn't, my body wouldn't let me.

“Dammit dammit dammit!” He smashed down three more times, hitting me directly on my face. With a force of will I rose a little, just enough to make my wants known. He met me half way and held me within his arms, whimpering, his form taking me into his possession. Princes had such broad shoulders and they were so tall as to have me crane my neck to reach those shoulders. Their arms were so long as if they were made for the purpose of holding me as tightly as anypony could.

I could barely see anything over his shoulders, his dirty yellow mane were in my eyes. Hours of being together had ruined his nicely greased hair into an unkempt mess. Nuzzling, I moved the hair aside so I could see the mirror behind me on the opposite side of the room. I looked at myself and smiled, at the other me looking as happy as can be. Her eyes so big and round and mane silky and smooth giving just that little extra cheer. Water leaked out of her eyes and her mane covered the unsightly bulges and bruises. At the sight, the smile grew wider.

I could feel Mr blue pony shift and the moment to myself passed. I blew into his ear just how he liked it. I felt his body shudder with delight and his breath calmed from his whimpering. He kissed my neck. He kissed again, over and over, faster and faster along my nape. He grunted with such greed and want and growing more intense with each touch upon my body. Reaching a crescendo of passion, he bit into my shoulder, as hard as he could. He let the blood pool in his mouth and sucked greedily. A sensation across my body exploded and lingered in wavering pulses.

I gave him a small squeaky yelp with every gnash and suck and lick. He chuckled lightly to me

His blood kiss went on until the bleeding slowed and from there he moved to lick a line across my throat, leaving a dirty crimson line on my white coat. I turned away from him to look into the mirror and his arms draped itself across my waist. He had made me a necklace of rubies. Looking at him from the mirror I saw him smile as he took a hoof to my chin to turn my head back to him.

He took my lips and let his tongue dance with mine.

Am I happy right now?

Mother once told me that happiness was this nice, warm feeling. My face felt warm and all over I felt heat sting with burning sensations. They left me short on breath as every little movement tingled along my body.

“My little Lala. My precious La Petite.” He held me so tight. His body felt so warm.

That must mean that he was happy too.

Is this what it means to live happily ever after?

“I love you...”

“I love you too...”

Laying on my back I gave myself entirely to his passion.

*

Mother taught me what the most important thing in life is. So important in fact that she was willing to die for it. For love she had me. For love she saved me. For love she died to find me prince charming.

Love is the desire to keep someone inside you and hold them dear. Love is like a flower blooming inside you, like a rose blooming into a bed of petals. Love is something only another pony can give you. Mother wanted it so badly, because she knew that it would bring her happiness.

“I want it master.” Jetset loved this game. On my back with my limbs tied to the bed and my eyes blinded with silken cloth, he'd insist on winning his game of no contest. For me to just lay down and give myself to the victor, as spoils to him.

He liked it best, when he always won.

“Say it again.” The long shaft of the riding crop slid around my rump. In anticipation I flinched at its touch. I heard him laughing, the kind of laugh I'd only hear when I was like this.

“I want it master.” With a sharp crack the tip of the crop hit me and I yelped at both the sound and feeling.

“You want it where?” He whipped me again on the same spot. He tasted the rawness of the place and tenderly caressed. The tingles up my spine were having me twitch.

“I want it inside me!” My inner thigh bloomed in sensation. Tenderly he kissed where he had hit me.

“I want you to love me. Master.” Jetset chuckled at the remark and then hit me, hard, in quick succession. My rump, my chest and thighs exploded into happiness. He hit so sharply each time that I could feel blood wetting me all over. I felt his hoof rubbing against the wounds, making me flinch away at first but soon his touch felt warm. The wetness of my hot blood painted all over me like a new coat. The smell and feel of blood wafted across my body and I could feel him take a deep breathy chuckle. Tasting me without touching me.

I felt water stream out of my eyes as all at once he came inside. I yelped in reaction of the sheer girth, of how it felt too big every single time and how I could never get use to this feeling. The enormous eruption of feeling and the iron sticky wetness as my inside were forcibly stretched and seemingly ripped.

To add to my cacophony of joy, he whipped my rump once he had made himself comfortable. He just loved the feel of my raw flank. He worshipped it. He dominated it. He liked to think he owned it. And as every stroke speared through my insides I yelled and screamed and moaned.

He would hit me at every instance of speech.

“You will speak when spoken to.”

“Yes. Master” This feeling. This is what love is.

***

“Ponies are so petty for getting aroused at the prospect of demeaning you.” He pushed my head further towards him forcing himself further into my throat. Instinctively I struggled as he held me in place, letting my desperation reach its peak before he let go. At the very instant he left my mouth, he released plentifully all over my face.

“Because to demean you, would mean to treat you like a pony.” While I coughed, he took his time to deliberately increase the press of his hoof as he made ready to stamp on me. His forehoof easily covering a good portion of my back and with barely any resistance, he had flattened me onto the floor like I was an insect to crush beneath him.

“Yes... -cough- my prince.” This earned me a kick in the ribs.

“You are no pony. You do not have the right to refer to me to such titles!” For good measure he trampled all over me outright, like I was some sort of doormat.

“You are less than an animal! An object, my plaything to do with as I wish!” I coughed blood as his hooves continued stamped into my back.

He held his right forehoof over my head like I was a prow of a ship and his other hooves solidly on my back. I could barely breathe, my strength was rapidly waning. I could feel my ribs teetering towards shattering under the strain.

His horn flared into light and the distinct humming of his magic filled the air. He stepped off of me just short of me passing out and then kicked sharply at my ribs so that I would turn over.

Now on my back I could see he held six floating red and black candles. They moved slowly around me in a loose circle, widening and tightening at his whim. His eyes were wide as he focused on each candle in turn, lighting them.

At the first touch of melted wax I unconsciously shrivelled into a ball. But his magic held on me and spread me wide.

“Be still!”

Each time the wax hit something below it sizzled with an angry heat. Tiny speckles hit me all over. One even landing at the lid of my eye.

“You know... I like you like this.” His angry blue eyes calmed. His voice had calmed into a low pur. He settled beside me and absently played with my mane.

Everytime a drop of wax neared to falling at his reaching hoof, he’d teleport the droplet into somewhere sensitive. I yelped for his pleasure.

Lifting my body by the mane, he propped me on my hind legs and forced the muscles there to cramp as I stood their rearing. Rearing for far longer than any should harmlessly do so. I found myself whimpering, with water leaking from eyes as fire burned into those legs.

“You are a candle stand now.”

He was no longer rotating the candles. Instead pouring pools of wet wax into me before placing a candle there. One at the end of my stretched fore-hooves, one on each shoulder, one burning on my horn as it stood on my snout and one just balancing on the small of my back.

He knew no pony could hold this position for long, so he took it upon himself to keep his magic holding me up, muscles all over burning and my sensitive parts searing.

He stared, looking into my eyes that continued to stream a river down my cheek and across my body.

“I will admit it. La Petite, Canterlot’s precious little Lala... I’m jealous of you.” At those last words the bitter venom in his words suddenly had his magic constrict. Forcing my lungs to exhale suddenly and struggle to inhale again. My concentration on the burning on my horn broken to explode my mind with feelings.

“You are the gem of high society.” I whimpered as a drop of wax seared my left hoof.

“The pony everyone wants but never have.” A drop of more wax sizzled upon contact with my snout. The sensation being nothing short of miraculous as my body shuddered beyond even the control of magic. The candle on my rump fell over, spilling hot wax all over my tail and down between my rump, burning as it went before setting.

Seeing this, the magic was purposely diminished and I dropped to the floor twitching all over.

“Ponies would sell their futures and fortunes to own you. But you aren't for sale. What we can only hope to have is your time and what we buy is never enough.”

“Each time we meet. I die a little inside beloved Lala.” Prince Blueblood, held a hoof to my cheek and nuzzled me. But there was anger there, the air filled with it.

“Despairing at how I am supposed to be the creme du la creme. The highest upon high society. I AM A DESCENDANT OF A GODDESS DAMN YOU!”

At this final remark the flames that were beginning to burn the white carpet flared into gouts of fiery light and then diminished, leaving behind a dim orange dusk to fill the room.

“But nay... I have to be content. Despite my high title, despite my breeding, despite my charm and beauty, I am but second fiddle to you.”

Using what little strength to rise, I came up as Blueblood hooves held me close to his face.

“And you know what really drives me insane the most. The deepest despair I hold in this heart of mine?”

Once I had managed to fully rise to my flimsy feet. Blueblood held me close, water from his eyes mixing with my own.

“Like everypony... I love you too...”

*****

On the highest suite of the most extravagant hotel in Canterlot. At the zenith of the sun the whole room fills with light as if the goddess herself watches over you in that room, blessed for a moment with paradise and happiness.

If you could pay a prince’s fortune, you can taste and touch and smell and hear everything you've ever wanted in life. Whether you knew at the time or not. Everything that all of Canterlot desired could be yours for just that moment.

Pony Joe had been hearing the idle rich speak of it. For years and years they talked about that room, the passion in their normally apathetic voices. The fire and life and enthusiasm spoke volume of the significance. When he had asked about it, they only laughed at him and made a point to never speak of any details beyond its name out loud. The rest was spoken in what could be surmised as innuendo or metaphor.

The Canterlot hotel’s Celestia suite was the only certainty that could be extracted, the most expensive suite in all of Equestria.

Pony Joe had started his business content to live out his life building up a small business in the capital city. To live in the high culture, to have the honour of so many important ponies come into his place for a good old cup of Joe and his patented donuts. To maybe build a legacy to pass on to a little Pony Joe, and live for the rest of his life comfortable and happy in the knowledge that he had all his life’s aspirations come true.

But then he tasted success, perhaps too much of it. Now Pony Joe had more time and money than he could spend. His hooves didn't need to knead dough and make coffee. His mind wasn't busy with inventory and orders and audits. He was in all respects and purposes, another of the idle rich, the kind that was on the bottom-of-the-barrel rich than filthy rich, but rich enough nonetheless.

With nothing to occupy his mind, the desire to know what laid behind the Celestia suite’s door had started from a passing interest of some young ambitious colt, to a frustrating obsession of an idle and made stallion.

His life’s saving was what all it took to see the door and all he had to do was open it. If he could see behind that door, then he could have himself. He wanted to open this door and feel disappointed by the weird idea of a rich person's prospect of paradise. He wanted to feel content that he was raised in a world where such things as paradise was too good a thing to be true, like his hard life as a small business owner taught him.

But what if it wasn't? What if it really was everything anypony ever wanted? The very thing would destroy him. His business, his ideals, his dreams would be forfeit for just another taste of the sweet ambrosia.

Out of the many hardships in his life, this one could actually finally ruin him.

“Joseph. What are you doing here?” Pony Joe turned away from the door towards the elevator.

Before him was Fancypants, one of his most generous patrons. The gentlecolt walked over to him inspecting his uncharacteristic attire. At least that’s what Pony Joe thought what Fancy was looking at him for.

He probably thought it didn't suit him or he didn’t belong here, Pony Joe thought what he thought Fancy was thinking.

“What I'm doing here? Well-“ It didn't occur to Pony Joe that he had every right to be here. He paid fair and square and was given the keys to open the Celestia suite before him.

“Leave.” Usually Pony Joe would explode with outrage at such a blunt command, but there was a sincerity in Fancy that Joe knew to not be ignored. Less of a threatening command, but a heartfelt plea that only Fancy could say with a single expression of a word.

“But Fancy I-“ Still, he came for what he paid for.

“You don't want to see what’s behind that door. I promise you.” Fancy put a hoof to Joe’s chest and pushed him away from the door. He then put himself in the way.

Joe wanted to once again try to remark something. About how badly he wanted to see what everypony had been talking about for so many years. But Fancy’s next words, stopped him dead on his tracks.

“If you happen to, then I will positively kill you.” Pony Joe knew that he didn't literally mean kill as in end his life. But by the seriousness of one of the most kind and polite ponies in Canterlot, even uttering such a strong word suggests a very real possibility of seriousness in his threat.

Joe was confused, scared and had even more nagging curiosity. In his maelstrom of motivations, Joe could only utter the simplest word to express it all.

“What... ?”

“For all that’s good in Equestria, Joseph please.” Now Fancy was looking him straight in the eye and holding his hooves on Joe’s shoulders in beseechment. That did it, there was no more defiance in Joe left.

“Y-yes sir. If it’s you asking, I’ll go.” Fancy was a good pony. There was no way Joe could refuse him.

“Good lad. You have my gratitude. Truly. I’ll repay this to you, I promise.” Fancy made extra sure of Joe’s lack of involvement with reassuring pats on the back and a trip to the ground floor via the elevator.

“Thank you sir.” Joe said as the door slammed closed on his face. Fancy's back being the only thing as his received reply.

"Repay me..." Joe kinda hoped it was his life savings back. But somehow he knew it wasn't what Fancy meant. Fancy was good and kind, but he was no element of generosity.

Author's Note

Lala is warped in perception of basic human ideas of emotion.

In what way will it be explored next chapter.

But the hints are there for those who want to hazard a guess.

Yes Lala and La Petite are both her names.