Closing time
Carousel Boutique hadn’t always been either of the nouns in its current title. Years ago, it was the unofficial home to the Ponyville rodeo. An open patch of ground in the middle of town, fenced off with dirty white planks and host to a small shed off to one side, for the judges to sit in. Ponies would gather from all over Ponyville and beyond and drape their hooves over that fence, cheering and supporting their favorite athletes and clapping their horseshoes against the worn wooden sides. The indentations had formed a ring that circled the interior of the fence-line, and you could look at the wavering curve of impacts in the wooden surface and extrapolate which ponies would stand where. How it tapered off near the judge's booth so as to prevent them from being deafened while they worked, and how the marks got higher up near where all the fillies would gather, their forelegs not being as long. Rarity had always enjoyed that little quirk. When the real Ponyville rodeo and sporting facilities were constructed, they moved the fence there to “keep the feel” of the original. A little piece of history, Mayor Mare had said. But they had put the boards back up in the wrong order. The unbroken line of indentations no longer lined up like it once did. Some were foreword, others backward. The story the fence told had been jumbled, and was no longer readable. A minor detail nopony had ever bothered to fix.
Rarity, however, had an eye for detail. Whenever she looked at the new fence line, her heart sank, if only just a little bit.
To Rarity, detail was everything. There was so much beauty to be held in the tiniest shred of lace, or the most unassuming turn of a seam. The location of a button, or a pocket, or a fold in a pony's skirt, could change the message of a garment from social high life to seedy nightlife, or from gorgeous to garish, and it could happen dramatically faster than anypony gave it credit for. The devil, as they said, was in the details.
When she had Carousel Boutique constructed out of the dust of the old rodeo, she had matched its proportions exactly. This had resulted in the need to build upward, rather than outward, so as to accommodate her work area. Running up and down those stairs all day would be a pain, but she'd committed to it. The Boutique would be round, and sit on the same spot the rodeo had sat for years. The wooden structure practically sank into the ground like a puzzle piece. Like it had been there, all along.
The lights in Ponyville had winked out, one by one, as night time settled in. Rarity had just finished hooding the ones in the showroom, and listened to the familiar click of the door lock as she turned it from within. She leaned against it for a moment, letting the trials and tribulations of the day's work run off her flanks like water in the shower, and basked in the silence. A very particular silence. This silence was soft, rather than cold and empty. The clothing in the room, the drapery on the walls, the various fabric strewn about the tables, all served to deaden the air and soften the reflection of sound. In the dark, the lower floor felt somehow closer and more personal than it did in the light. Off toward the other side of the rotunda, the glow from the stairway was casting downward onto the floor like a welcome mat, calling her upward toward her room. Her tail twitched, and she could feel it raise, just a little. A couple inches upward, enough for the cooler air of the lower floor to bathe her nethers. She grinned, and her heart-rate quickened. She'd been looking forward to this all day.
Social practice dictated she lower her tail as she walked softly across the floor, but she kept it quirked upward, almost in spite. There was a thrill to walking around the boutique after dark, displayed as she was. The lower floor was littered with windows, and not all of them were covered. But so long as the ambient light outside was greater than darkness inside, the reflections on the glass served as perfect tinting, while putting all of downtown Ponyville on display for her. She knew it; she'd checked on multiple occasions, just to be safe. Nopony could see inside without their face sandwiched to the glass. The thought made her giggle. Wouldn't they get a sight, if one ever had the gumption to try.
She popped her rear into the air with one quick, elegant thrust of her back legs, pointing her hooves and arching her back to allow momentum to carry her tail upward and over in a wide arch, leaving it draped across her flanks. She grinned excitedly, and faced outward toward the large windows with her rear legs spread and her smooth, opal furred vulva in full, brilliant view. The outward pucker of her ass was darker skinned, almost black against the white below it, and she looked coyly over her shoulder toward the nothing outside her window, as though inviting it in. A moment later, she giggled, and let her tail drape downward once again as she trotted for the stairway. She'd done that with other ponies wandering around outside before. If they had only known what they were missing. The thought gave her a little thrill as she ascended her stairway. Something about extending the welcome mat to all of Ponyville from just inside her protective shield of glass struck a chord with the part of her that loved being in charge. It was like she could tease the whole town, and get away free.
Rarity closed the door to her bedroom as she stepped inside it, and paused a step afterward. What if...? she wet her lips a little, and opened the door again, just a bit, just enough that it could conceivably be opened the rest of the way without her knowing, were she suitably distracted. She didn’t expect a visitor. Truth be told, she'd probably be terrified if some strange pony walked in on her, especially with what she had planned. But the boutique was locked, and somewhere in the myriad of erotic fantasy in her mind lay the scenario of some amazing pony she'd never met, slipping in un-noticed to find her prone in bed, waiting.
Her eager grin widened. Or somepony she did know.
The mood was right. The moonlight was peeking through the blinds and bathing her bed with just the right glow, and it picked up the curves and shapes of the profoundly incriminating objects she'd left upon it since this morning. Oooooh, she'd be DOOOMED if anypony had found their way up here today. Ruined. If Rainbow had flown in her window, just to drop something off. If Twilight had teleported in with some urgent piece of news. If Pinkie Pie had just...shown up. To be Pinkie Pie. Anypony! There was enough raw sculpted sex sitting on her duvet to leave her cowering in shame and embarrassment for at least a lifetime or two. Maybe more. It had been a fear gnawing at the back of her mind all day long. Which meant she'd had her mind on them, and their purpose, and their proximity to discovery. All. Day. Long.
Which had been the point, of course. It had been a rather wonderful day.
Rarity leaned back on her bed and let its threadcount embrace her. The mattress was firmer than most ponies would guess at, considering its owner. Rarity knew that, and the misconception brought a small smile to her lips. There was a simple delight in not quite being everything she was perceived as. In having somewhat more...sorted...priorities that the general public might assign to her character. She pushed her hips into the bed's surface and let them bounce back upward. She liked the rebound. It did half the work.
She had allowed her eyes to close at this point, and flexed the muscles in her lower body to rhythmically push her rear against the resilience of the mattress. Little thrusts, with no contact to speak of. It made the bed bounce a little, and the headboard tapped gently against the wall. The sound was crisp over the silent springs, and it sent a little shiver of delight through her. Tap. Tap. Tap. Lightly. As though she were trying to hide it from the paranoid ears of some sleeping parent in a nearby room. There were none, of course, but the thought was fun.
Hmmm. Who would she have to hide from?
Rarity bit her lip and fumbled her hoof through the objects beside her, now out of place from the motion of her body. Shining Armor. Was she really going to start with Shining Armor? Oh, but it worked so well. It would have to be so quiet, so careful. If Princess Cadence found out...if TWILIGHT found out...
Rarity found the toy she was looking for by touch. She didn’t need to open her eyes, its familiar contours and texture gave it away. Cautiously, quietly, she lifted it up and rested it on her exposed belly. Her breathing was shallow. What would he do? She slipped the sculpted phallus slowly up and down her stomach, letting its tip trace lines in her fur. He wouldn’t penetrate her, she decided. Not Shining. Too risky. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, between her teeth, and bit it gently. Maybe she could tempt him, though. Get him close.
She pushed the toy downward, nestling it between the soft mounds of her breasts and cradling it there. Her hoof pushed and pulled it gently, but she had all but removed her own efforts from the mental equation. All she was paying attention to was the drag of the partial flare of the toy's tip, hooking the edge of her breasts as it traveled backward between her legs, and pushing them slightly up and outward as it slid forward again. Ooooh, that was misery. He'd be inches away from her sex, but he couldn’t let himself into it. Rarity's expression took a harder tone, and her grin curved into a smirk. She spread her legs, lifting them slightly. Invitingly. The sound of her own clit gently winking in and out between her slick folds drove her mental stallion wild. There for the taking, Shining. Just a few inches lower.
But he wouldn’t, and she delighted at that frustratingly accurate detail, even as she arched her back in longing as the promise of the toy's entry was revoked. She dragged it upward toward her mouth. Safer game. He'd be sweating now, and she'd look up at him. Could he see her, in the dark? It would be dark, wouldn’t it. They wouldn’t want the lights on for this. It would be navigation by touch alone, and soft voices. No voices at all, maybe. It would only remind him of his indiscretion. Just breathing. And scent.
She licked the tip of the toy and savored its texture. She could ignore the artificial taste easily enough, she'd become rather practiced at it. The texture, though. She'd looked all over Canterlot for a texture as perfectly real as this one. Every little bump dragged across her tongue, and she let out a tiny moan as her probing organ curled under its glans and pulled it forward into her mouth. Shhhh, he'd say, and she'd slow her breathing. Just a pair of heartbeats in the dark, and the almost imperceptible sound of his shaft sliding carefully in, and carefully out again.
Her headboard was tapping again. He wouldn’t be able to slow himself down completely. Too much urgency, too much danger. They had to be quick, ponies would be looking for them. And they'd have to be presentable. Clean. Rarity swallowed reflexively around the shape of the toy in her mouth. He'd have to finish in there, wouldn’t he. Would he be worried about that? Would he try and warn her, or hold himself back? She reached her other hoof outward and cradled the sculpted balls on the toy's underside. She wouldn’t let him leave. Just let it all out, Shining. She caressed the shaft reassuringly. One, clean, hidden package. A few careful swallows, and all the evidence would disappear. She wondered how much it would be. Not too much. Princess Cadence was as energetic as she was beautiful. He wouldn’t be particularly pent up. But guilt, and urgency, had a marvelous way of increasing one's libido. There would be enough. Enough that he would look at her silhouette in the dark with amazement as she swallowed it in pull after rhythmic pull, and licked his glans clean with one, long draw of her tongue. She wondered how long it would take him to sheath up, afterward. She would probably have to leave the room first.
Rarity grinned victoriously as she pulled the toy from her mouth, hooking its tip just slightly with her teeth, for the thrill of the resistance. Room? No. Closet. A darkened closet, somewhere in the echo-y halls of the Crystal Palace. It was why they had to be so quiet.
The white mare let go of the toy and levitated it gently back onto the bed beside her, where she could hear its weight settle on the other objects waiting for her attention. She got away with Shining, no pony would ever have to know. But she'd feel guilty about it, just a little. In that...motivational sort of way. Which made the decision of where to go from there dramatically easier.
Twilight Sparkle. It was only fair.
Rarity turned her body sideways on the bed, leaning her head against her pillow and curling her rear leg forward so she could hook it with a foreleg. By pulling, and keeping the other leg straight, she was able to stretch her muscles and spread her sex in the same motion. The combined feeling was wonderful, and she could imagine Twilight's stunned face as she watched it. What to do with Twilight? She'd be so...chatty. Questioning. Do I do this? Do I do that? Is this right? Rarity hid her laughter in her pillow. It would be adorable, but the poor mare would get in her own way. Twilight needed to be thrown into things, forced to use her vast storehouse of knowledge and talent without bogging herself down with too much preparation. And she needed to keep her mouth busy.
Rarity purred like a kitten when she shoved a stray pillow hard between her legs. Toys were a poor stand-in for a pony's face, but she could still simulate the mass, and the enthusiasm. And Twilight Sparkle was nothing if not enthusiastic. Rarity let the tingle of her magic radiate into her horn and surrounded the pillow with it, causing it to warm with the blush of the purple pony's face. She would be so delightfully warm, and her tongue would probe this way and that, searching for landmarks, until she found where she was supposed to be. Because she'd know, Rarity was certain of that. There was no chance in Equestria Twilight hadn't dug through every book on sexuality in that library. She would know tricks Rarity didn't even have names for. She just wouldn’t know when it was safe to use them. How to go from one to the next. What to say. She would need to be guided.
Rarity pushed her pillow harder against her sex, and encouraged it to rock back and forth, and let the raised seam of the stitching along the edge of the cushion rub back and forth on her as she winked in and out. Just like that, she would say. Put your face right there. And put your hoof....right here. Rarity guided a phantom limb to the base of her tail, and substituted her own hoof when Twilight's would have made contact. She felt her ass quiver reflexively as it was pressed against, and her own tremble helped to simulate the flutter in Twilight's heartbeat when she was directed to attend to Rarity's other orifice. Rarity hovered her hoof in place, slowly rotating it on her ass while she rocked her crotch against the pillow. Twilight would have to think of how to proceed. Would she push in? Rarity wanted her to. She could feel her own hoof tremble, eager to sink into the warm confines below it. But Twilight wouldn’t, not like that. Too direct, too invasive. Too physical. She would use magic. It was what she was good at, and she wouldn’t want to mess this up.
Rarity's hoof was pushed gently aside by the smooth, tapered surface of a new object. She had wrapped it with her magic and held it aside, waiting for the moment when Twilight would have decided to reach for it. It vibrated as her magic wreathed its way through its interior, and its relatively small, tapered tip slid smoothly and easily inside the pucker of her protruded pony ass. Rarity slowly pulled the pillow she was resting her head on into her mouth, and clenched her teeth around it. The one between her legs was moving harder as the toy in her ass slowly ramped up its motion. But she didn’t allow it to go too quickly. Twilight would have held back, afraid she was overstepping her bounds already. She might even ask if that was alright, or if she should take it out. Rarity whimpered appreciatively, and rocked her hips into the pillow until she could feel a glow building in her pelvis. She held still once she felt it begin to radiate, and froze as it started to build. Not yet. Oooooh, she wanted it. But not yet. There were still so many ponies left to meet. She waited, whimpering into the pillow, until the building radiance subsided, just short of crossing the precipice. The missed orgasm made her want to lash out in frustration, and she adored that feeling. Good on you, Twilight Sparkle, she thought as she slid the small glass rod out of her ass. Had she been there, had it been real, it would have worked beautifully. And with the little one, no less! Rarity would have wanted larger, given her druthers, but Twilight didn't need to know that.
With a sly grin and a tiny growl, she brought the toy to her lips and ran her tongue over its tip. It was still warm, and the musk made her drip like a faucet all over the pillow that had now dropped between her legs. Twilight didn't need to know that, either.
Rarity's breathing was hotter now than it had been before. Heavier. Her self inflicted frustration had fueled her aggression, and she returned to the bite she had on her pillow. It increased from a gentle grasp to a vicious clamp that strained the muscles in her cheeks. She was well within her means to calm down, of course, but she didn't want to. She wanted somepony to let loose on. Be rough with. Somepony who wouldn’t see it coming, but would be delighted when it got there. Who owed her a favor? Who wouldn’t try an calm her down?
Raaaainbooow.
Rarity was up on her hooves so quickly, it sent the pillow that had been clamped between her creamy thighs flying against the rear wall. Fine. Didn’t matter. She was done with that one anyway. She wanted something with a little more substance. The fevered fashionista opened her eyes for the first time since she'd begun, and glared around the room like a hunched predator. She even barred her teeth. Inwardly, she imagined she must look ridiculous, and the indignity of it all made her laugh, and try all the harder. Nopony was watching. Be adventurous. Have fun, Rarity. She spotted her prize off to the side of the bed, disconnected from its stand and resting on its side. One of her Mannequins. Or, at least, it was, up until her eyes found it. Then it became Rainbow Dash, the jewel of Ponyville's sky, and it had a great deal to answer for.
Rarity leaped from her bed, sending the toys that were still nestled in the divots of the mattress flying into the air behind her as she landed hard on the cloth covered stuffed pony. She pinned its neck below her leg, and slammed her hips down against its. The Mannequin's pose was perfect, with her weight on it, its legs splayed defenselessly forward and backward. Rarity's breasts pressed against the manikin's flanks, and her deep purple mane cascaded over its face and thighs.
“Got you now, Rainbow...” she growled, and ran her tongue over her teeth. The action wasn’t native to her, and she had no sharp fangs to glint threateningly in the moonlight. But she had witnessed before, in predatory animals, and she had enough imagination to make up for it.
She bit the Mannequin's ear, and listened to the mental squeak of pain and delight that Rainbow made under her. She hushed the blue pegasus pony curtly, and Rainbow would have bitten her own lip to obey. Because, Rarity knew, she was that sort of pony. Deep inside, under all the bravado, all the daring-do and aerial amaze, Rainbow wanted to be controlled. Rarity could see it over and over, every time a crisis touched Ponyville. How she would snap to attention when Twilight issued an order. How she would take such care to insist that she could take care of herself, run her own show, be the boss, only to fall in line when the moment came. How she wanted so badly to be part of a team, instead of flying alone. Something in that little blue mare craved a tight leash, and was too scared to ask for one. That was fine. Rarity would supply it. She was nothing if not generous.
The unicorn pinned her velvet furred stand-in to the floor with a scarf that looped about its neck and the nearby desk. She could imagine Rainbow pulling against it, trying to gain slack, and Rarity denied it to her. She arched her back and lifted her hips skyward, only to slam them downward into Rainbow's rear. The Mannequin's legs spread from the impact, and Rarity leaned back, sitting up and sliding down the shape of the pony below her. It made her ache inside. All the shapes were so wonderfully correct. The curve of the stitched leg, the swell of the strong flanks that connected them, they rubbed over her sex as she slid down to the floor. Rarity had very, very good Mannequins. They were resilient, soft, strong. And they cleaned up well.
She shoved her right leg under the doll's prone body, and lifted her left over the elegant curve of its rear. With a shove that pressed its head into the desk, she thrust her hips forward and ground her winking cunt into the smooth, slightly protruding swell of the doll's crotch. She held it there and groaned with the contact. Rainbow's sex would be doing the same thing hers was. She could almost feel them, pressed against each other, both clits feverishly pushing in and out and making momentary contact. Would they be synchronous? Nooo. First hers, then Rainbow's, chasing each other back and forth with lewd, wet sounds. And every time the blue pegasus would almost manage to catch her breath...
Rarity pulled back, and slammed home again, back, and forward, her vibrant magic playing a light show around the room while it held her 'Rainbow” in place. She had even gone though the effort of creating glowing bindings for the wings the manikin didn’t have. No point in playing the game if you weren’t going to play it well, after all. She didn’t need to magically gag the manikin, though. That had been taken care of, physically. Several loops of the scarf that held her down were secured around her muzzle as well. Rarity savored the whimpering squeaks she would have heard, and smacked the plush ass of the manikin as she drove her now visibly steaming mare-hood into it. The motion felt marvelous, but she elected not to do it again. The doll's ass didn’t make the beautiful SMACK of skin and muscle when it was struck, and she did so crave that noise. Limitations of the media.
Like any good creator, Rarity had a plan B. She smacked her own ass, driving her hips in deep and swinging her foreleg down hard as the sound of the spank rang off the walls. Peeerfect. Again, and again, and again, as hard as she could manage. She wanted to make Rainbow's cutiemark glow red. She could feel the soreness Rainbow would be feeling. The excruciating pleasure from the physical abuse, so akin to the burn of a long race, but in all the right places. Rarity could feel the heat building inside her again, and it thrilled her. Really? From this? Grinding and spanking? The very concept that she could rip an orgasm out of herself from this alone if she put her mind to it fueled the fire inside her. She wanted to. She'd already been denied it once. Oh it was riiiiight there...
With an audible groan of frustration, Rarity held her hoof back, preventing herself for striking her own flank again. It was silhouetted in the moonlight, trembling. She could see it shaking. She could feel how close she was. Just...a little more...but no. Not yet. She drove her hoof into the floor instead, slamming it hard enough to make all the bottles and sewing paraphernalia on her desk jump. By CELESTIA that was cruel. She whiiiined as the glow inside her drifted slowly away, but its build up, the steady mounting of an orgasm denied, was still sitting heavy in her gut. She could practically reach inside herself and feel it. That was what she was looking for. That power, that sheer energy sitting just under the surface, demanding attention. She was sweating now. Not a dirty sweat, but a clean, wet sheen that radiated heat and mist off her body in the coolness of the room. Her cunt could fog a window from five feet away right now, and she was positively delighted at the mental image of that. Maybe ten feet. Even better. She might have tried it, but she was concerned it wasn’t actually true, and she rather enjoyed the fantasy of her potency at the moment.
Applejack.
Rarity rolled over and put her own face into the floor, mimicking the pose her fantasy Rainbow Dash had been pinned in. Oooooh Applejack! Those sculpted legs, that barely restrained ripple of workhorse muscle that coursed over her every curve. She was so. Painfully. Perfect. Her body wasn’t of natural cut. It didn't fit any established norms of beauty. Her voice ground against every Canterlot eloquence custom Rarity ever learned. She was primal and powerful and didn’t fit into the right sizes and wouldn’t wear pretty clothing and her proportions were so much broader and grander than other mares and Rarity nearly sobbed out-loud as the sheer list of details poured through her mind like a waterfall. Every single curve needed attention. Every muscle, every inch, she was so delightfully unique.
Rarity's hoof trembled longingly as it crept between her legs and began worrying her sex fiercely. She just wanted to obsess over her. She wanted to run tape and ribbon over those rock-hard flanks and watch how the light caught the sheen of the silk in so many different places that simply didn’t exist on the build of lesser ponies. She wanted to see how fabric lay on that massive, chiseled frame. How sweat rolled down it. She had seen that. It wasn’t a straight line, like it was on most mares. It turned and curved and meandered, and ran down the bottom of every muscle and around the inside lines of those massive legs.
Rarity struggled to refocus her thoughts, and brought her other foreleg behind her, reaching it beneath her tail and working both hooves against the arch of her back while she buried her face in the floor. She wanted to imagine how Applejack would treat her. How heavy she would be. How much strength would be behind her motions. But her body wasn’t allowing it. She couldn’t duplicate the fantasy with her own hooves, and the images in her mind kept flashing to the glimpses of her friend's smooth, brownish sex that appeared for just an instant every time she slammed her hoof into a tree. A kick so hard, it rocked the earth and made mana fall from heaven. The imagery was somewhat romantically inflated, but such was true of Rarity in general. It was the first time she had met with genuine frustration that night, rather than frustration brought about by her own machinations. She was too far gone, and loosing focus. It was time to get to the meat of the evening.
She could almost hear the barn door opening. Big Macintosh's hooves would sound like the dropping of boulders from a mountaintop. Thick, heavy thuds on the dirt floor. Rarity had her head to her own floor, with her ear pressed against it. She could hear her own heartbeat racing, and she worked, mentally, to steady it. Both hooves slowly released their frantic attentions on her sex and ass, and braced themselves on the floor in front of her. She counted heartbeats until they had slowed to the point that she could imagine them as his impacts on the floor, walking closer. Buh-bum. Buh-bum. Buh-bum. She extended her magic to the other side of the bed beside her and walked it around the room, seeking the toys that had flown away earlier. She identified them by shape, size, and texture. Not that one, too light. This was too thin. That one had the wrong shape. Where was it...where...there.
She couldn’t lift it with her first attempt, and that alone was so mentally satisfying it damn near broke her. It was like having to use one's other hoof when one proved insufficient. She reinforced her magic, and lifted the thing off the floor, levitating its bulk over the bed, and hanging it some six feet above and behind her. She didn’t turn to look. She could imagine its appearance well enough. It was it's impact she wanted, and that wasn’t a visible thing. She released her grip, and listened to the silence between heartbeats before the heavy phallus struck the floor.
THUMP.
She squeaked a little out-loud as the small shockwave tingled her hooves, her knees, and her face. So loud. So solid. In her mind he had just descended from his sheath, and that had been the sound of his cock slamming upward against his chest. The accuracy of the fantasy was probably up for debate, but that hardly mattered right now. Tonight, in the theater of her imagination, he was a titan, and the only pony in all of Equestria that could possibly hope to survive his affections in tact was her. And she was going to prove it. She was going to prove it so readily it would make his head spin.
Rarity curled her ass upward to let gravity assist her as she hoisted the enormous replica above and behind her with the glow of her magic. She guided it by touch, and imagined him doing the same. It brushed up under her tail, and he would used that as a guide to angle it downward and follow the line in. Its tip pressed against her puckered asshole, and she groaned. He pulled back a little, and traveled lower. Rarity chewed her lip. He would dismiss her ass out of principal. She'd do something about that. But not...quite yet. Leave that as a surprise. Icing on the cake.
Its bulk against her sex made her sink her own teeth into her foreleg. She savored the taste of her sweat and her fur, and spread her legs a little wider. Magically, she began to press, and her now sopping sex spread outward around the swell of the enormous glans. She had to exhale as it entered, and her legs wobbled. Finally. So...monstrously...thick...she could feel its veins, and could swear they were throbbing within her cramped tunnel. She wanted them to be. He was moving so slowly, so cautiously. Maybe he'd never been able to fit in a mare before. Maybe this was new to him. Maybe he wouldn’t want to push too hard, for fear of hurting a friend.
Maybe he needed encouragement.
Rarity reached behind herself, spread her asscheeks wide, and thrust her rear upward against the toy. It sank in hard past the medial ridge and she rumbled her approval. THAT did it. She slammed her magic downward and sank the massive member clear to it's base, grinding its bulbous tip into her cervix and crying out in sheer, agonizing pleasure. ALL. FUCKING. DAY. It was like somepony opened the floodgates on her frustration. The hours of worry she'd forced on herself so she could anticipate this moment. The previously denied orgasms. The ministrations of her “friends”. All so she could get the absolute most she could squeeze out of the startlingly mammoth Big Mac fantasy now hilted inside her. She was going to ruin that pony.
She slammed the toy again and again and again, bucking her hips backward as she drove it home. He wouldn’t know what hit him. This wasn’t sweet, gentle Rarity. This was some sort of animal. She panted and snarled in sheer delight. She'd blow his mind. All those poor little ponies he'd no doubt have scared off the moment things got intimate. Not this pony. This pony was going balls-deep. Rarity cried out, practically cheering herself on as she repeatedly drilled the thing home inside herself. She could imagine his mountainous weight baring down on her back while he rutted her repeatedly. She'd support it. She'd fight the burning in her legs while she held him up. She could imagine the slap of his heavy, leathery sack as it swung back and forth like a pendulum, smacking into her breasts as he hilted inside her only to draw his entire length back out again. And she made him do it, too. She wanted to feel every inch pull, and every inch push, and more than that, she wanted him to feel it. Her natural slick was being pistoned in and out as he moved and it sputtered onto the floor. She savored the sound of it. She was panting with effort, and her magic was slipping, unable to hold onto the heavy object for its now lubricated surface. She imagined it was him, nearing his edge, slowing down so as not to let it all out without warning. She grinned at his restraint, and slowly pulled herself off him. He would wait, probably expecting her to change positions. Maybe lie on her back, or her side.
When she flagged her tail upward and pressed her asshole to his tip, his eyes would widen.
“Eeyup,” she said softly to him, and winked.
The sopping toy pushed and twisted and spread her cheeks as it descended, and she held it still at periodic intervals to give her body a chance to adapt. But it didn't take her long, and she delighted at how much that would shock him. With every inch, she could feel the heat that had been smoldering inside her flaring to life. Her limbs were shaking. He'd confuse her mounting ecstasy with pain or trepidation, and stop halfway. But she would insist, and when that medial ridge stretched past the strong pucker of her anus, he gave up on every preconception of Rarity he'd ever had. With all the strength and energy her tired magic could muster, she slammed that toy to its hilt in her ass, and came like a freight train.
It was like she'd unlocked some hidden vault of energy, held in careful reserve for that moment. She started pumping that toy with machine-like speed and power, and with every sopping wet thrust, her sex below exploded, the physical manifestation of her mind-numbing orgasm spraying hard across the floor as every muscle in her body seized like she'd been struck by lightning. One. Slam. Slam. Slam. SLAM. TWO. She cried out and clamped her jaws into her foreleg for purchase. THREEE. Keep it moving, Rarity, hard. HARDER. FOUR. She was forced to let go to gasp and cursed her body's need for oxygen. Don't. Stop. She strained her back upwards and put herself up on her forelegs, slamming her ass downward onto the floor with the toy still in it. FUCK. FIVE. She was impressing herself now. It was easier with the toy on the floor, she could just hold it still magically and let her legs do the work, lifting and dropping and lifting and dropping and lifting and drop..drop...siiiiiiiiiix...
She whined out long, letting number six drag out slow and holding herself as still as she could before she slowly lifted upward as it began to taper. The orgasm extended through every inch of withdraw until it tapered at the tip, and she hovered there. Six. Her floor was soaked. Her wall was soaked. She was panting like a marathon runner. For a moment, she just hung there, waiting to see what her body would do.
Go for seven.
Rarity slammed her ass onto the floor with such authority that it made one of the bottles on her desk fall over, and she thrilled at how fantastically stunned her partner must have been, right at that moment. She rolled onto her back, braced her leg against her bed frame, and rubbed her still spasming clit vigorously as she worked the toy back and forth just a few more times. The final orgasm of the night radiated up her interior like a landslide, made her back spasm, and sent her braced leg kicking spasticly to the side with a loud CLACK CLACK as it nicked the wooden leg of the bed involuntarily and ricocheted off it's curved surface a few times before finally calming down enough to control its movements. She panted for air and let her magical grip subside. The toy was buried to its wide base inside her, and she left it still. It's presence was un-ignorable, and it gave her body something to clench around. She'd take it out in a few minutes. For now, however, it stayed inside, and she lay back in heated bliss as she imagined its owner pouring his orgasm into her ass one long, thick jet at a time.
Little spasms and reflexive jerks rippled through her body as she waited for things inside her to subside, and she slowed her breathing to let the trembles linger. She hadn't moved the thing yet. She liked it in there. Every time she clenched, she could map its depth in her body, and trace every contour of its molded surface. All the little details. They were like landmarks, each time a little deeper than they had been before. Lazily, she opened an eye and turned to look at her bed frame. There was a ring of divots across the exterior edge of the rear right leg, put there by the repeated impacts of her hoof in the same general location again and again over time. They were small, nearly imperceptible details, but Rarity knew they were there, and she knew the story they told.
She liked that story. Well enough to add to it over and over agaaaa-nope. Not finished yet. She had thought she was, but the sudden flush of fire inside her informed her definitively otherwise.
She sent a shimmering glow up the length of the toy inside her, and began moving it again. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy would have to wait until morning, she and Big Macintosh still had some work to do. Rarity had a hell of a mess to clean up, and if she was going to spend the next hour scrubbing her carpet, she was damn well going to make the toil worth it.
Eight. Eight sounded good. Maybe nine.
The white pony smiled as her pulse quickened, and the afterglow began to ramp up its intensity again. Maybe ten. She was Rarity, after all. Why settle for less?