Dawn was breaking, on two impassioned unicorns—and a fat, stubby candle. However, the candle was not between them in a ‘double penetration’ sense. It sat upright between Trixie and Twilight, stubbornly unlit, and Twilight’s patience was fraying.

“Focus, Trixie!” snapped Twilight. “Don’t you know how to guide a mage-meld?”

Trixie sweated, her eyes wild. “Mistress, Trixie does not understand! Can you take it from the beginning again? Slowly?”

At that, Twilight sighed. “But it makes no sense! You know this. We used the technique to make those bits, how can you not know it now? This is much easier!”

“Trixie is so sorry…”

“Trixie,” said Twilight, “is yanking my chain. Or would be, if I had one. Okay, let’s start at the beginning. You mage-melded with me perfectly to make not one, but five magic bits. Why can you not light a single candle?”

“Trixie can’t do that spell…”

“But I can,” said Twilight. “It’s no different! With the bits, we sought out a pattern of force and I poured energy into it while you directed. Here, you need to pour energy in, and let me passively direct it. Does it help that it’s the fastest way to learn that trick? To feel your energy shaped into the pattern that lights the candle?”

“It hurts—feels strange,” said Trixie.

“It does NOT hurt! Much! And even if it did… okay, listen. Mistress talking. Trixie is going to try again. Now. Take a breath… okay. Do it! Three, two, one…”

Frantic, Trixie gritted her teeth, making a noise in her throat like a nail being pried out of a board, clamped her eyes shut—and strained, her horn flaring to radiant life. Twilight stared down at her over the quiescent candle, her horn glowing idly as she formed the mental pattern, and concentrated, holding her thoughts steady as her unicorn lover’s mental force writhed and struggled inside her mind.

Trixie let out a squeal strangely like one of her more twisted, masochistic orgasms, feeling her mind twist obscenely into a pattern not its own—and it turned into a screech, her face going red, as the wick caught. It didn’t just catch—it flared into blinding light, and Twilight squinted and grinned as the candle disintegrated before her eyes into a puddle of wax and charred wick bits, Trixie squealing and shuddering behind it. When there was no more wick left to focus on, Trixie sagged, panting. Twilight could feel the heat coming off her horn from two feet away. She knew just how that felt—it throbbed in a bizarre, disconcerting way, a magic-ache, like her thoughts themselves were sensitive and sore.

“Good girl,” said Twilight.

“Mis… tress…” sniffled Trixie.

“I mean it. Good girl. You can have anything you like from me now, that was beautiful… but how could it be so difficult for you? Your mage-meld training had to include this.”

Trixie’s head lay flat on the floor. “Trixie doesn’t know what you’re talking about,” she said flatly.

At that, Twilight blinked. “You… you don’t, do you? Maybe I’m approaching this from the wrong angle entirely. Let’s postulate that you have no idea what a mage-meld is, and haven’t been trained in them at all…”

Trixie rolled her eyes wearily, pouting on the floor.

“In that case,” continued Twilight, “how did you do one, not once but five times in a row?”

“Mistress did it,” said Trixie. She sighed again, but more tenderly. “It was the most erotic thing Trixie has ever imagined.”

“That I certainly did not! You see, this is why we’re sitting here—well, I’m sitting, you seem to be spread out on the floor like a disaster victim. We have to figure this out. I tried to do the magic bit spell on my own, Trixie, and I can’t do it. I was in your mind pumping in energy like a madpony…”

“Mmmmmm…” moaned Trixie, with half-lidded eyes, and Twilight snickered.

“Yeah, I’m with you on that, I can hardly wait to make more—but I should be able to get the pattern now, and I can’t. I’m not lacking in energy, but I’m just not getting it. And now I find you don’t even know how to mage-meld at all?”

Trixie shrugged, weakly. “Mistress was serious?”

“About what?” blinked Twilight.

“About Trixie having anything she liked.”

“Yes! Yes yes yes… especially if I just made you basically take the final exam without ever having had the class, and you passed… Trixie, I’m so proud of you! What do you want? You shall have it.”

Trixie lifted an eyebrow. “Mistress… take Trixie shopping!”

“Shopping? Shopping how? Shopping where?”

“Mistress knows where,” smirked the limp unicorn. “The Carousel Boutique. Not the front rooms, either. Trixie wishes a toy or two.” She frowned. “Trixie may have to make amends for past misdeeds. No matter. Take Trixie toy shopping!”

“Well, it’s pretty early,” said Twilight, “but if you really want to… or we could go to bed, and then go later?”

Trixie’s eyes lit up. “We could go now. Before Mistress makes an excuse not to.”

“I wouldn’t make an excuse!”

“Think up a reason, then.”

Twilight made a face. “You’re probably right. When I think about it…”

“Oh, don’t, Mistress!” cried Trixie, sitting up. “Let’s just go! Be more spontaneous. Mistress doesn’t have FUN. She just reads her books. Come with Trixie! We will explore your friend’s special stock, and then go to sleep afterwards, and wake up to new toys.”

“Um. Just what kind of toys are you proposing, Trixie?”

“Mistress promised!”

Twilight Sparkle gave her pleading lover a weary, exasperated look—but it was so hard to resist Trixie in squee-mode. For a moment, she reflected on the curious life they shared—layer upon layer of game and reality, a cascade of mood and meaning that reflected in upon itself like a kaleidoscope. At any moment, they could take a swerve and explore some new dynamic. Trixie could’ve narrowed her eyes, taking on a dominant’s authority, trying to bully Twilight into cooperation. She could’ve groveled, and deferred completely to Twilight’s every thought. But, as dawn filtered more strongly through the windows, the blue unicorn, plainly worn out from her amazing efforts, seemed undaunted, and her attitude was much like that of a puppy begging to go for a walk.

Considering the life Trixie had led, this puppyish mode was the most heart-melting of them all, because it spoke eloquently of Trixie’s trust in Twilight. It had utter faith that Twi would give in, and that the excursion would be wonderful.

Twilight smiled, tiredly. “I sure did—and you’re so right. Come on, I think Rarity’s probably up working. She’s one dedicated mare, and I happen to know she’s swamped with orders. We can see how she’s doing with them.”

Trixie bowed her head and gave Twilight a soft unicorn’s kiss, with a subtle bump of horn against horn. “Thank you so much, Mistress!”

As they walked along Ponyville’s dawn streets, Twilight steadied Trixie’s exhausted body with gentle magic, and spoke. “It’s marvellous how much you’ve learned—how much you’ve done, without training! If only I could get Princess Celestia to understand how well you’re doing…” She broke off, as Trixie had screwed up her face. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, Mistress, don’t think of that creature, please?”

“Creature? Trixie, she’s our Princess! She is your princess too, I might add. This sun that’s warming us? She did that. We just have to find a way to teach her. The faithful student—that’s me—needs to turn the tables.”

Trixie’s expression was sulky again. “Leave Trixie out of it. She made you upset, Mistress. She made you cry, a little! She is mud-pony to Trixie, and always will be, and vice versa, obviously. Please do not bring her up, for it offends Trixie’s sensibilities.”

Twilight’s ears were back, and she peered up into the sky in a panicky way. “You shouldn’t call the princesses mudponies! We shouldn’t call anypony that, not in this town at least, but especially not the princesses!”

“And what,” said Trixie, “do you imagine they’ll do to you, Mistress? Very well, Trixie will hold her tongue. The tongue that belongs in Twilight’s nethers is sullied by shaping the word ‘Celestia’ anyhow, so that’s no loss. And you presume too much—Trixie thought Princess Luna was delightful. That Princess would make amusing company for our present expedition. The other one—wouldn’t!”

Twilight gulped at the thought. Yes, Princess Luna did have a certain bad-girl streak to her, perhaps the legacy of all those years as Nightmare Moon—but Princess Celestia certainly did not, and doubtless would not approve. Twilight peered huntedly up at the sky again, as if Celestia was hovering invisibly up there, and she felt considerable relief when they arrived at the Carousel Boutique. There was a light on, suggesting that Rarity had begun work before dawn.

Trixie knocked on the door with a hoof, and called, “Miss Rarity?” She glanced at Twilight, in haste. “Permission to address her as Mistress Rarity if she wishes? Not to suggest she could be a replacement! As a courtesy?”

Twilight blinked, trying to catch up. “Why would she want that, Trixie? We just call her…” but before she could finish her sentence, the door swung open.

“Who is… oh!” gasped Rarity.

Trixie shot a quick look at Twilight, crossed her forehooves demurely and dropped her head. “Mistress Rarity, Trixie wishes to apologize for her earlier misbehavior during her performance—and further wishes to know if she and her own Mistress could view Mistress Rarity’s creations?”

Rarity looked back and forth between Trixie and Twilight. Trixie continued to gaze deferentially at the ground, and Twilight shifted from hoof to hoof awkwardly, while glancing back over her shoulder at the sky.

Rarity smiled, radiant.

“Please do come in, darlings. I’m only working on a little personal project and would adore your company. I’ve not even made breakfast yet, you know—would you like some?”

The project seemed to be something to do with mustard-colored silk, very sheer, though bolts of navy blue fabric and lengths of brick-red, mustard, straw and blue ribbon also lay about. Rarity ignored them and led Twilight and Trixie decorously to the table in her kitchen, seating them and whipping up omelets with little sprigs of parsley placed just so. She also poured them orange juice, and set a kettle on for coffee or tea—the elegant white unicorn appeared unworried, perhaps amused at something, but seemed to be producing breakfast with secret haste, as if she wished her guests to be already served before some unspecified event…

Rarity’s bedroom door opened, though she wasn’t in it—and Applejack walked through it, yawning and shaking out her mane. She looked towards the kitchen where she could hear the sounds of cooking, saw Twilight and Trixie looking back at her, and froze, eyes wide and jaw hanging in shock.

“Oh, there you are, darling!” called Rarity. “I thought you’d never join us. Come and be fed. You must get back your strength!”

Rarity’s voice was filled with affectionate wickedness. Twilight could see her desperately trying to fight off a smirk, and losing.

Applejack gulped. “Uh… thank you kindly, Rarity, much appreciated…”

Twilight did a double-take. “Applejack, did you spend the night with Rarity? I mean… well, obviously you did, didn’t you? I was hoping you were feeling better. Gosh. Does that mean you were…”

Applejack was blushing a fiery red color, and trotted into the kitchen with uncharacteristic shyness to join her friends. “Um…”

“Uht! Not another word, sweet!” chided Rarity. “I will take care of all explanations!”

Twilight hastened to smooth things over, in typically clumsy manner. “Oh, no, you don’t have to explain a thing! I, um, I’ve had it! I don’t blame you one bit, you’re a very lucky mare, Rarity! I’m surprised it’s not you needing to get back your strength! Whoof!”

Her compliments fell flat. Applejack stared at the floor, scarlet. Rarity arched an eyebrow at Twilight. “You misunderstand, Twilight Sparkle…”

“Huh?”

“Our Applejack is turning over a new leaf, and I am honored to embrace that epiphany—indeed, awed at the opportunity. Bite your tongue, darling, before you disrespect her further…”

“Disrespect how?” demanded Twilight.

Rarity’s head was high and proud, defiant, as if she stood defending her new lover’s honor.

“Rarity is the stallion, darling, not Applejack. Our dear friend is not some bumptious stud as you might imagine. She is the most delicious, feminine creature imaginable—the most beautiful mare in existence. And… she is mine.”

Applejack’s blush worsened, and she bit her lip. “Consarn it, Rarity…”

Twilight stammered, “Thank you for the breakfast, Rarity, but maybe me and Trixie ought to be going! What are you doing? I’ve never seen Applejack this way!”

“Get used to it,” declared Rarity. “She’s keeping it. You’ve been missing her most special charms. Look at that blush! Precious!” Her voice crooned the words, unctuously.

“But,” protested Twilight, “how can this be right? First of all, isn’t you being the stallion kind of a waste?”

“Hah!” said Rarity, smugly.

“And secondly, you’re treating her like… I don’t even know how to describe it! Rarity, Applejack is tough and strong and brave! How can you be reducing her to a blushing filly?”

“Reducing, hell,” said Rarity. “I bestow permission. I suspect your marefriend understands better than you.”

Trixie had been watching all this with big eyes and a delighted smile. She nodded. “Trixie suspects she does, Mistress Rarity.”

Twilight turned to Applejack. “What’s going on? For the love of Celestia, what’s she done to you?”

At this, Applejack snorted with laughter, still blushing and not meeting anypony’s eyes.

Rarity’s look of wicked glee deepened. “Perhaps we should rephrase that. Applejack, darling mare, delight of my senses, treasure for my eyes, you know what I’ve done to you. Do you wish me to STOP doing it?”

Applejack gulped. “Aw… HELL no!”

“There you are,” said Rarity. “I pride myself on being able to see beyond obvious surface appeal to the true heart of matters. Come, Applejack, I’ll make you a proper breakfast, like you’ve never experienced.”

Applejack came to the table, blushing, grinning, looking up shyly as Twilight gaped in amazement. “Is that so? Y’all can try, if you like. I admit you done shocked me once.”

Rarity was serenely confident. “Cuisine is but one area of my mastery. Just as you have brought me visions of unequalled femininity, so I shall bring you transports of gastronomic delight.”

Applejack nodded. “Yeah—an’ make me breakfast, too, will ya, sugarcube? Ah’m still wobbly.” Her confidence was returning—strangely buoyed by Twilight’s obvious astonishment.

“…did I mention lately that all the ponies in this town are CRAZY?” said Twilight.

“Aw, don’t take on, so, Twilight,” said Applejack. “There ain’t no harm in it. Rarity’s jes’ teasing me. Heh! Ya might say, givin’ me a hard time!” She saw Twi begin to blush, and grinned. Maybe two could play at that game. Applejack eyed Rarity, speculatively.

Rarity stepped over, levitating another omelet. “There you are, my precious girl… uht! No no!”

Applejack had made a lunge for the dish before it even hit the table. “Aw, what now?”

“Not before I garnish it! You will not get the full effect…”

“But ah’m hungry! Ah’m tryin’ to get a full effect, if you’d jes’ let me at that there food!”

Rarity held the dish out of reach. “I could make you beg for it. Disobedient mare.”

“As if!” scoffed Applejack. She stretched her nose up towards the plate, her blonde tresses falling to either side of her neck. “Since when do I beg for somethin’?”

Rarity smirked. “You’ve begged me to STOP, haven’t you?”

First Applejack’s eyes went wide, then Twilight’s. Trixie just grinned harder, seemingly at home with this sort of byplay. While Twilight’s look of shock continued, Applejack’s eyes gleamed with amusement, and she began to play the verbal game in earnest. “Well, sure. ‘Course I did. My sakes, how can a pony frame stand it?”

Trixie leaned over, and gave Twilight a hug with a foreleg to reassure her. Twilight shook herself, licking her lips, out of her depth. She said, “Let me get this straight. All this time, the super-hyper-magic-bit-stallion hasn’t been you? Or Fluttershy? It’s been Rarity? I guess it’s good that you’re so tough, huh, Applejack?”

Applejack’s eyes twinkled with mischief. She knew full well that Rarity didn’t compare to the unfuckable Flutterguy, but she couldn’t help herself. “Sure is. We thought Fluttershy got somethin’ when she used them bits? Well, dang. It’s true! Rarity’s got a huge dick, and that ain’t no lie!”

Rarity’s grin tensed a little, while she applied garnish to Applejack’s omelet, and set it before her, to be wolfed immediately. “Oh, sweetness! You must savor the breakfast, you surely cannot even taste it when you go so fast!”

Applejack belched, licking her lips, her mischievous look worsening. “Funny—that’s just what I could ‘a tole you about certain private matters.” She wriggled, pretending to wince, discovering it wasn’t entirely pretending—her marehood was indeed still sore. “Why you gotta go so fast? Ya wicked cruel stallion, ruination of fillies, you.”

Rarity protested, “I did no such thing! I am attuned to a lover’s needs, always!”

“She fucked you hard? Rarity? Rarity gave you a hard fucking?” gasped Twilight.

Applejack smirked. “Honey, that seemin’ly elegant unicorn done laid me to waste! You heard her! I had to beg her to be gentle, an’ there she go, teasin’ me about it! Cruel stallion critter, mockin’ the frailty of a pore lil’ mare…”

“You are NOT frail,” declared Rarity. “It was a matter of girth. And I suspect you are snug, perhaps from lack of use. Not that I am complaining!”

Applejack gave the mortified Twilight Sparkle an earnest look, and deadpanned, “You know when farm dogs get a-fuckin? And it’s all a-yipin’, with the male humpin’ to beat th’ band and this serious expression on his face while he pumps his dick fast as ever he can in the pore bitch? …ayep.”

“Rarity did THAT?” gasped Twilight. Trixie hugged her again, to steady her.

Applejack slowly grinned, wider and wider, and then ducked her head, laughing, as Rarity came over and swatted at her head with a hoof.

“I did NOTHING so ungentlemanly as that! Applejack! Take that dreadful accusation back!”

“But then what will I do when I want you to do it again?” laughed Applejack. “Aw, all right… I was kiddin’, Twi, it weren’t quite like that. Uh, bits of it was, though. Makes me happy to be a mare.”

For some reason, this offhand complement flustered Rarity more than anything, and she blushed and teared up. “Oh, Applejack!”

“I got to ask, though,” continued Applejack. “What brings y’all here? Ya share breakfast with Rarity often? Y’all should swing by Sweet Apple Acres, I could show ya a REAL breakfast. Big flavors, none of this frou-frou stuff.”

Rarity glared. “I used imported herbs, clarified butter heated until it was just the right golden shade…”

“Yeah, well,” said Applejack, “that there weak sauce frou-frou stuff don’t hold a candle to grub off a good hot griddle, with jes’ the right scorch on it. Th’ butter jes barely starts ta smoke, and ya get that rich brown…”

“Breakfast is not to be scorched or burned, unless you are Sweetie Belle! And that is hardly a recommendation!”

As the two mares glared sparks at each other, Trixie whispered to Twilight, “Aren’t they such a cute couple, Mistress?”

Startled, Rarity and Applejack looked at the unicorn who’d humiliated both of them on their first meeting—and Rarity and Applejack both blushed, and looked down.

“Sorry for callin’ your breakfast frou-frou stuff, Rarity,” said Applejack. “Weren’t much of it but it was right tasty. Lil’ subtle, maybe. I guess I can learn how ta eat that stuff.”

“There is a place for subtlety, and delicacy,” said Rarity. “I’d hoped I could show you about that.”

“Aw, you did! Kin I have more? Ain’t hardly enough for a day in th’ fields, sugar.” Applejack grinned, and added, “I reckon the place for subtlety ain’t between your legs?”

Rarity’d turned immediately to cook another omelet. Her head was still lowered over her task, as she began to say something, stopped herself, opened her mouth, and… “Oh, that! You know full well the place for THAT… is between yours!”

Trixie hugged Twilight. “Don’t blush so, Mistress. They’re doing it to tease you. Ponies, please stop teasing Mistress, it was already difficult getting her to come here!”

“That’s right!” said Rarity. “You wished to see my new line of work, didn’t you? Both of you? Or was it you, Trixie? From our previous interactions, I cannot say I am surprised.”

“Trixie apologizes, again…”

“Oh, no no no,” said Rarity, giving her a look. “I, of all ponies, understand perfectly. Were you not with Twilight, I daresay I’d find a way to get my own back—but let bygones be bygones. Did you have specific things in mind, dear? How experienced are you in this world?”

Trixie’s happy smile was answer enough. “I see!” exclaimed Rarity. She served the omelet to her new lover, and as Applejack wolfed down a second subtly-sized breakfast, Rarity trotted out of the kitchen. “Be so good as to accompany me to the inner sanctum, and I shall display my latest creations.” They followed her into her bedroom.

Trixie’s eyes drank in everything she saw—to a fault. “Oh, look, Mistress, it must have been true! Especially as none of that could be stallion-seed!”

Twilight’s gaze, and then Rarity’s, followed Trixie’s—and Rarity shrieked in horror. She’d been so hot to start on her private project that she’d ignored the state of her bedroom, and now her guests were looking at the little puddle of ooze on the floor—exuded by Applejack during minute after minute of harrowing orgasm as she withstood the thrusts of Rarity’s titanic phallus. The country mare’s body had greased its passage every step of the way, but they’d never cleaned up afterward, and now Rarity was confronted with evidence of just how hard she’d been driving her lovely blonde earth pony mare. Applejack goo was much in evidence, and even the slightly stale scent of it spoke of filthy, hedonistic passion.

Rarity took a deep breath. “APPLEJACK!”

“Yeah?” called her lover.

“You come in here at once and clean up your MESS!”

A snort of laughter came from the other room, then—“Uh, I cain’t! I got work to do, oh my is that the time? I got to run, sugarcube! Field’s a-waitin’! See ya later!”

“APPLEJACK!”

The only reply was the clatter of running hooves… and giggling. Then, the door banged, and she was gone.

Rarity’s lip quivered, and she looked tragic. “I am so, so, SO sorry, darlings. I should have got her up this morning and made her clean it, but she looked so pretty as she slept, and I couldn’t bear to…”

Trixie gulped, her legs quivering, as she stared at the puddle of ooze. “Mistress c… could order Trixie… to lick it up?”

There was a moment of shock, and then both Twilight and Rarity squealed with dismay, stamping their hooves. “Urrk!” went Rarity, trying not to be sick.

“No, Trixie! Bad Trixie!” yelled Twilight. “Ew!”

Trixie cringed. “But, Mistress! Trixie has cleaned up your…”

“It’s different! That’s not from ME!”

“I’m so sorry,” repeated Rarity, and her horn glowed as towel after towel flew from her bathroom, mopping up the mess, only to be stuffed into what was clearly not a clothes hamper—but a trash bin.

Trixie was sulking. “As Mistress wishes.” She sighed. “Trixie is sorry.”

Rarity lifted an eyebrow, as her magic polished the floor with a dampened towel. “Trixie is no amateur to degradation! Forgive my reaction, I do not like untidiness. And, for that matter, forgive my observation—but between each other, you two are not equally into ‘the life’—are you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” said Twilight.

Rarity looked happier, having cleaned her floor. “Well, dear—I reacted the way I did because I’ve got a hang-up about—well—fluids. I don’t like them. I prefer the lash. Oddly, blood doesn’t worry me, but that’s as may be—I should take a moment to point out that your Trixie’s offer did not horrify me in the way it seems to have horrified you. Twilight, have you even had a willing slave before?”

“That’s an awful thing to call her!”

Rarity’s eyes narrowed. “It’s written all over her, dear. I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then—and suggest that you indulge her needs at times…”

Twilight felt reprimanded. “But I do! I mean, we do. And we switch it around a lot, too—I mean, she gets bossy in the way we’ve all seen her do, and she tells me to do stuff, and I obey her. Like licking up the… oops. Sorry, won’t mention it.”

Rarity didn’t flinch. “Yes, yes, that doesn’t shock me—in fact if you mutually share that one it’s no wonder she offered. Girl!” she said, directly at Trixie, her eyes flashing with command.

Trixie flinched at the sharp, peremptory tone. She glanced at Rarity—and then tore her eyes away from Rarity’s cool gaze, and resumed her attention for Twilight’s far more uncertain one.

Rarity gave a little smile. “Loyal. That’s good, I think… well, my darling little bondage-ponies, what shall I show you this morning? Do we have a mistress and her obedient slave? Or, perhaps, a naughty and disobedient slave? Or, indeed, a pony who seeks to teach her Mistress how to treat a naughty and disobedient slave?”

Trixie’s eyes lit up, while Twilight stammered, “I’m not sure. Trixie asked to come here. She was good, learned a magic technique she had no business mastering at her ability level. Is it okay that she’s the one who wanted to come here? Like, am I supposed to not do what she asks, or something?”

“On the contrary,” replied Rarity. “It speaks well of you that you’re responsive—and willing to experience more than one role. I just suspect your Trixie wishes to deepen your relationship. It’s not unusual for a sub to attempt to communicate such wishes, sometimes in devious ways.”

Twilight nodded, trying to keep up. “I’m really not sure what she wanted to get. But, Rarity—I’d like to support you in your new work. I… understand what it’s like not to be approved of, and I don’t want you to feel that way…”

Trixie snorted. “Her again? Oh, Mistress.”

Rarity blinked. “Twilight, is somepony disapproving of you? It seems quite beyond belief. You’ve been…”

“Princess Celestia,” sighed Twilight Sparkle.

Rarity’s jaw dropped open. “Heavens! Are you sure, Twilight? I hesitate to summon old ghosts, but there have been times you’ve worried needlessly…”

“I’m sure. It’s not so much me. The Princess doesn’t like Trixie.” Twilight hung her head. “And I love her. So I and the Princess… aren’t speaking.” She bit her lip, tearing up.

“Oh, poor darling!” cried Rarity. “Whatever can I do?”

At this, Trixie spoke up, and her eye was sharp. “Well, we’re here to get a present for me. Do they even make paddles that can paddle an ass that large?”

Rarity giggled, but Twilight was not amused. “Trixie! You see, it’s just that sort of attitude! You have to stop talking like that, I mean it!”

“Calm, Twilight, be calm,” said Rarity. “Methinks I see the real problem, hmmm? Something tells me somepony is yearning to be punished. Would a certain great and powerful unicorn like to be sold a nice flogger for her Mistress’s use, hm? Or a crop?” Rarity’s grin grew teeth. “Perhaps a rod? I’m not sure your Twilight is up to that, dear, don’t press her…”

Trixie sulked. “Miss Rarity is correct. Trixie would like to use a rod on that Princess Celestia, though.”

“Oh, my,” smirked Rarity, “your pet does want to be punished, Twilight. Let us outline the options for your purchase…”

“Not playing,” said Trixie. “She made Mistress cry. Unforgivable.”

This took both Rarity and Twilight aback, and Twilight scolded her. “Trixie! I don’t even understand you. Don’t you have any proper feelings for royalty at all? How can you be so… I don’t know, insolent! Trixie, she didn’t even forbid us! All she did was go away, not wanting to speak to me! I’m very sad about that, but Princess Celestia is allowing us the freedom I wanted her to extend to us! Didn’t she even say that was her gift?”

Trixie sulked. “Trixie could ask why you’re such a hooflicker when you’re not even getting anything out of her…”

“Well!” said Rarity. “I think, lese majeste aside, we can be certain that your pet, Twilight, wishes to be punished. If you still wish to get her a present, my more than ample private stock holds many choices which I can outline for you, if you haven’t experience with them.”

Twilight’s jaw was set. “I’m not even sure it’s appropriate to punish somepony if it only excites them more. How does that even work? But… well, she hasn’t done anything more than talk in a bad way, and she really did make such a wonderful breakthrough, and I promised…”

Trixie’s lip quivered, and she refrained from further remarks about Princess-spanking.

Twilight Sparkle sighed.

“All right. Tell me some of these options, Rarity.”

“The key distinctions, my dear, are in the type of pain and sensation you wish to impart. I suggest you watch your pet’s reaction as we talk, for silent indications of preference, for she is clearly a wilful and impossible mare and likely to communicate in hints, if I am any judge.”

Twilight nodded. “Will do.”

“First, we have floggers. They are what you might call lightweight, though in their physicality they are broad and heavy. They impart a smack and a thump—much noise and wobbling of buttocks, but little actual damage. Even a neophyte could wield such with gusto, taking little risk. If you wish to receive correction yourself, I strongly encourage your Trixie to begin with this, or something on its level. Moving into sharper sensation, you could turn to a crop—you’ll have to strike more quickly, but it will come with practice. I do not think you’re up to using a whip, dear, it’s an art and I would be shocked had you developed it. If you can exert your magic with a certain flick and snap, you may be able to wield a rod, which your pet is likely able to handle if she’s no amateur, but you may not be prepared to wield it… Here’s one—do not be deceived by its lightness relative to the flogger, the rod is the vicious little toy. I cannot overemphasise that. It’s not just about the whistle through the air, the rod is what will leave a proper welt…”

Twilight’s eyes were wide as she listened to Rarity’s lesson in pleasurable pain—and from the floor, Trixie’s eyes yearned.

---

“I confess, sister, I do not understand your antipathy for that blue pony.”

Princess Celestia sighed. “Pray, do not call it antipathy. I must resist such prejudices. If anyone could redeem her, it would be my Twilight, and I can only hope she wins out. I have given my word not to interfere, Luna.”

“But… Sister, I do believe you. I am all sympathy. The ponies of this generation are miraculous! They are a credit to your centuries of hard work with them. Please understand that I defer to your judgement. I hope your choice is… no, prithee, I KNOW thy choice must needs be wise!”

Princess Celestia lifted an eyebrow, and Princess Luna realized she’d slipped back into old habits of speech again, and coughed. “Sorry.”

Celestia’s eyes were sad. “Don’t be. Had I saved you earlier…”

“Oh, sister!” Luna, unexpectedly, chuckled. “Lest ye forget, ‘twas not you that saved me—it was the miraculous ponies you raised. They did not just save me, they redeemed me. I quite understand why you coddle and fuss over them.” She walked idly over to look out the window. “I do not understand why you make exceptions. Is not… ‘Trixie’, was it? Is she not one of your ponies?”

Celestia sighed. “That is not her full name, sister. She is Trixie… Lulamoon.”

Luna froze, looking out the window. Celestia was looking away, in shame, and did not see it.

“Do you remember the Lulamoons, sister? They were of your time, but the trouble was… after your time.”

“It sounds bad,” said Princess Luna, not daring to show her face.

“It was. Or… Oh, Luna, I cannot say they were bad! Foolish, filled with hubris, perhaps a bit insane, but I am sure there was no evil in them. And yet, so much could have been lost…”

Luna looked back over her shoulder, her face carefully composed, to meet Celestia’s distressed gaze. “Pray tell me more. Lulamoons… sinned?”

“I do not like to think of it as such. I believe with all my heart that it is simply our fortune and our duty to play the roles we do… so I shall not say ‘sinned’, for it implies moral failing on their part, when their revolt was not meant in wickedness or selfishness. They wanted freedom, just as Twilight does. Perhaps that is why I cannot resist her now…”

Luna’s eyes had become very wide, and in them was a strange horror. “No… the Lulamoons… revolted? M…” She shook her head. “Sister, I entreat you, tell me everything you know of this! I did not know your rule had been challenged in this way! Nopony told me a thing about it!”

“It’s forgotten,” said Princess Celestia. “No grudges were held. You could say it blew over, peacefully. I am a little proud of that—but I could not have done otherwise, I loved them as I did all of my ponies, and my faith wasn’t broken.”

“But what HAPPENED?”

“Lulamoons caused a lot of trouble, in your… absence, Luna. You probably remember them as a powerful unicorn clan, but you did not see their hubris flower, I assure you of that. They wished to overthrow me and elect a sort of sky mayor!”

“Define ‘overthrow’,” said Luna. “You can’t mean…”

“I do,” nodded Princess Celestia. “I told you they were powerful. I did not tell you they’d interbred, strengthening their line. Perhaps that is where the streak of madness arose… There is no graceful way to put this, so please do not be offended or doubt me. A mage-meld of eight Lulamoons were able to shift the moon. They wrested it from my grasp, sister. That happened.”

Luna was speechless.

“They thought they would be able to handle the Sun. A few more unicorns in the meld—they would have been able to do it, sister. It was awe-inspiring, brave. They were very sorry when they informed me I would join you in stasis, trapped in the Moon. They truly did not wish to harm me, but they were filled with belief in their cause—that ponies would directly rule all aspects of their world, working together for the good of all. Do you know what I did?”

“Oh, sister. I know what I would have done. I am all too direct, I fear… what, then, did you do?”

“I reasoned with them.”

Luna blinked at her. “As they imprisoned you?”

“No, no! They wanted to be fair. But they did not understand… suppose they expanded their numbers until they reached a meld that could shift the sun. They were mortal! Luna, they proposed to take a terrible risk. A few untimely deaths, a coup of alicorn loyalists, the inability to train a new generation of mages… I pointed out historical precedents. I begged them, weeping, not to force my hoof. At all costs, I dared not stamp them out, nor did I wish to even if I could—and they were good ponies, they understood that, and they listened. Eventually.”

Luna’s ears were quirked to the side as she tried to imagine it. “You met with them, then? A parley, in a big room?”

“Sister, it took three generations…”

Luna fell silent again, as her sister outlined the unique time in history that had transpired in her absence.

“They had already begun to dissipate their power, you see. Their star was waning, and it was through love. Love of other unicorn families, pegasi, earth ponies—they could not live as ponies and still tightly restrict their breeding to maximize the genes that could meld together to wrest the Moon from my hooves. They did care for all ponykind, and eventually they all understood that it was I, Celestia, who was suited to raise and set the Sun—that it was my obligation, which I took on with gratitude and love. And again eventually, those magic genes spread throughout all ponykind. They gather, sometimes—I believe Twilight Sparkle is one example of that. There is much Lulamoon in her.”

Princess Celestia winced, and added, “Quite literally, I fear. No jest intended.”

Luna pressed her sister to continue. “But this one, this Trixie Lulamoon. Why do you resent her?”

“I don’t!” protested Princess Celestia. “At least, I don’t want to! But ever after, Lulamoons have been a thorn in my side. It is as if they have some ancestral memory of their hubris. They are dissatisfied, restless, they strive… there is much to admire in it, truly, but at the same time they bring unrest and ‘strive’ is not so far removed from ‘strife’! For generations I have tried to care for them, and yet they bridle and chafe under it. Trixie is a Lulamoon through and through. I have watched her bring strife to town after town with her magic tricks and things. I cannot bear the thought that my Twilight, my faithful student, will be taken from me and turned bitter by a restless, insatiable Lulamoon. Ancestral memory has a horrible force and it darkens my sight. I must trust my student, somehow.”

Luna looked stricken, unreasonably distressed over what was essentially a history lesson. Weakly, she protested against her sister’s forebodings. “Pray, do not fret. This ancestral memory need not amount to much… I have seen this Trixie’s magics. They were naught but pretty fireworks, sister. There is nothing to fear from that!”

Princess Celestia shook her head, sadly. “No. You do not understand, Luna. Twilight Sparkle told me everything. She told me what Trixie Lulamoon had been able to do—and though I begged her to reconsider, Twilight does not wish it un-done. And so, I worry.”

“Please tell me what she has done. Tell me!” pleaded Princess Luna, trembling.

“Twilight tells me,” said Celestia, “that Trixie Lulamoon has reached out to tap a power she does not herself understand. A source of sexual energy too raw and primal for Twilight to handle. Trixie instinctively understands the personal, ancestral nature of this power. She does not know Twilight has just as good a claim to it as she does.”

“But what did she do? Celly!”

“Sister, they created a magic bit to aid lesbian pony sex. I did not at first link the appearance of this artifact to the Lulamoons, but it should have been obvious—the dark undercurrent to it is so very Lulamoon! The first one brought a ravening compulsion to my ponies. That was not good enough for Twilight, and she has seen fit to develop it—but she does not know that she is drawing on the same dark source! And before you ask, I shall tell you—the bit grows a penis on the mare that holds it, one that suits their inner spirit and is what they would have as a male. So when I say my Twilight has had a little Lulamoon in her… well, I mean it in quite a literal sense.”

Celestia stopped. “I am sorry. I can see this distresses you. I need not have told you all the seamy details—I know you remain above such things.”

Luna had grown paler, and paler. Wouldn’t it just have to be a Lulamoon, come out of the distant past, to dare and love and strive? Wouldn’t it be a Lulamoon who worked herself into the heart of matters, shaking the counsels of the great and wise—or indeed the great and foolish? Luna felt horribly, vulnerably foolish as she considered Trixie’s and Twilight’s plight.

And yes, it would be a Lulamoon who sought to please a lover, who reached out and tapped ancestral memory, who brought back into existence a magic bit that transformed mares into stallions and used their creation heedlessly. Luna knew it could only be a Lulamoon.

They had, after all, invented it…

…for her.