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// 59. The Parlor #5 (Celestia) 
// Story: Short Shorts 
// by Coranth 
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Much to her relief, the room the white mare and her attendant entered wasn't lavish, or posh; instead it was subdued and neutral, painted with earthy browns and tans and lit with soft lighting. 'Thank Faust,' she thought. No sooner had the human closed and locked the door than she shed her disguise - allowing her pink mane and sun cutie mark to be seen - and hopped onto the double bed at its center without a word. "Rough day?" her attendant - a man named John Atkins asked softly, voice reminiscent of Michael Ironside. Celestia, Princess of the Sun, nodded--and then groaned softly with pleasure as the man started to work, massaging away aches and tension in her withers and back that she didn't even know she had. "Like you wouldn't believe..." she answered, whimpering as he bade her stretch out fully on her front. John nodded as he worked her crest and withers, then gently massaged her flight muscles, before moving on to her loins and croup.

Etiquette demanded that she sit just so upon the Solar Throne for long, long hours at a time; thus it was always such a relief to sneak away from the Palace and come to the Parlor wherein she could just be herself - Celestia the Pony - and not the First Princess of Equestria. Here, in the Parlor, she didn't need to preside over court, didn't need to spend even more time in her office managing affairs of state, and didn't need to remember her etiquette lessons that demanded she sit up straight upon her throne. Here, she could just sprawl upon the big double bed, soft coos and little breathy sighs escaping her throat as her human attendant used his hands to stroke, pet, and caress her everywhere he could reach. Soon, Celestia stretched languidly like a cat beneath her John's ever-stroking hands, nuzzling and nosing foal-like into the pillow upon which her head rested. A moment later, issuing an adorable squeak, she rolled onto her back, allowing the man to massage along her forelegs and gently cup her hooves in his hands; then he stroked and caressed her chest and barrel for a time.

Eventually, Celestia and John made their way into the bed wherein he gently hand-fed her some simple, yet hearty food fit not for a Princess, but a Commoner: fresh hay, fresh grasses, flowers, baby carrots and corn, and a special 'mash' of oats, grains and bran carefully mixed with molasses. All the while, even as she ate the food from his hand, his other hand was buried somewhere between her crest and poll; John softly stroked her mane and scratched her ever-so-gently behind the ears such that she closed her eyes in sheer bliss, humming contentedly as she ate. Once she was done with the simple - but oh-so-delicious - food, John handed her a mug of hot coca, something she hadn't had since she was but a filly... and then, Celestia just couldn't take it anymore; she nuzzled against the human, eyes misting with tears. "Why," whispered she as they ran from her eyes to stain the white fur of her face, "are you so good to me?"

"Because," John replied, "you are a good pony, Celestia; you - along with your sister, Luna - have worked so hard to ensure Equestria is the way it is. If anyone deserves to come here, it's you." And with those words, ever so gently, John Atkins, Parlor Attendant, brushed away her tears with his thumbs and softly kissed her on the nose. It was the culmination of everything - the petting, the warm bed, the food and drink, the gentle words and attention - that did it. Turning to wrap John in a tangle of hooves and wings, Princess Celestia wept softly into his chest - a catharsis, a release - and even as she did so, the human, John, never let her go. He didn't let her alone. He held her, his hands constantly moving through her coat and mane, or scratching behind her ears, until at last she ceased crying, only to fall into sleep in his arms. She knew he would never let her go.