Flames of Passion
The hoof kicked me in the ribs again. I yelled in pain and tried to cover myself with my legs, but the hoof began stomping my side. A voice shouted, "Get up! Filthy vagrant!"
I cracked open my eyes. The sun was high in the sky. Even filtered through the windows, it was so bright I could hardly see. How long had I slept?
"Move!" The hoof slammed into my belly this time. My stomach wrenched and tried to heave. But I had been hungry for days now, so nothing came out.
When I was done retching, I squinted at the hoof. It was shod. No wonder it had hurt so much. Behind it was a white leg, golden armor, and a grimace of hatred. A royal guard.
I had lived on the streets long enough to recognize the look on the guard's face. He was going to keep hitting me until he thought he had taught me a lesson. I was pretty sure that if I acted scared of him, he would only kick me a couple more times. I cowered, bowed my head, and said, "I'm sorry, sir. I'll leave right away."
"Miscreant!" he shouted. I raised my hooves just in time to shield my face. His hoof slammed into my foreleg just above my elbow. From the sting, I knew the horseshoe had drawn blood. "Do you have any idea where you are?"
"No, sir, I don't." I said, still shielding my face. That was a lie, of course. Nopony wandered into the castle by accident. "My apologies. I was cold last night and had nowhere to sleep." That part was true. I didn't mention that I had sneaked past the night watch.
It was hard to explain my motivations even to myself. I didn't try. The guard looked like he had never doubted his place in the world. If I had tried to tell him about my life on the street, about my neverending spiral of fear and depression and desperation, he wouldn't have understood me, let alone believed me. How could I tell him how I felt about her? How she was the only hope I had left?
The guard manacled me, first my forelegs, then my hindlegs. I cooperated. If he was putting me in chains then the beating was mostly over. As it turned out he didn't kick me at all after that. After a jab to start me moving, he seemed to think he had abused me enough. I walked through the palace, head low, ashamed of my stupidity.
From a side corridor I heard the voices of mares. They sounded cheerful. No doubt whatever had brought them to the castle was pleasant. I sighed and wallowed in self-pity.
That was when I heard her voice. Not any mare's voice; her voice. It was soft, but it resonated with power and authority, and it carried a sweetness that filled my heart with joy. I halted in front of the corridor, oblivious to the guard's prodding. The voice drew nearer. At the end of the corridor, three ponies rounded a corner. First came Princess Twilight. Beside her was Princess Luna. Last to appear, and most majestic by far, was a brilliant white alicorn with a shimmering rainbow mane and fiery suns on her flanks.
I stood there, gaping like the idiot I was, while they came towards me. The guard kept trying to prod me forward, but I couldn't move. I was transfixed by her beauty. It streamed from her in rays so bright that I could see nothing else. Her! She had been my soul's only desire for longer than I knew. Privately, I had thought of her as my darling and my sweetheart, but now, face-to-face with her, I felt ashamed of my presumption. I was unworthy even to say her name.
The three ponies halted in front of us. "What's going on?" she inquired. Her voice echoed like the tinkling of bells.
"This vagabond was sleeping in the castle," said the guard. I lowered my eyes. I didn't deserve to look upon her.
She left the others and walked around me, examining me from every angle. She studied my matted coat, the knots in my mane, the ribs that showed through my underfed flesh. "When was the last time you ate?" she asked.
"Three days ago, Your Majesty," I said.
"And bathed?"
"I don't remember, Your Majesty."
"Why did you come here?"
"I—I thought—I only wanted—" I stammered. But I couldn't put my feelings into words. All I could manage was, "Because I have nothing left, Your Majesty. I'm sorry."
She thought for a moment before asking, "Nothing? No family? No friends? Nopony who would miss you if you vanished?"
I shook my head.
A smile flickered across her face. "What's your name?"
"Anon."
To the guard, she said, "Get Anon a bath and a meal. Bring him to me afterwards."
"Sister," said Princess Luna, "this isn't wise. Please reconsider."
She smirked. "No, I've made up my mind."
The guard saluted. As he took off my manacles, tears welled up from my eyes and dripped onto the floor. "Thank you, Your Majesty," I said.
Princess Twilight rolled her eyes. "You should definitely not be thanking her for this. It just encourages her."
I looked up in astonishment. How could I not thank her? I had trespassed her castle and now she was caring for me. Her generosity was boundless. Princess Twilight was supposed to be the Princess of Friendship! Surely she knew better than to make such a callous remark.
The guard said nothing as he led me to a bathroom. He didn't attempt to apologize for beating me. Yet I felt no ill will toward him. It was his duty to protect the castle and her who dwelled in it. His zeal was just and righteous.
As I scrubbed the grime from my skin, I wondered what my future would be. Perhaps I could join the army. Only the best were permitted to be castle guards, but for her I would be the best of the best. It would let me be always near her. Yet, I reflected, that wasn't what I truly wanted. What I wanted was unthinkable, something I was not fit to even dream of.
My meal was an exquisite brunch. Here I was, in her castle, bathing in her tub, eating her food. She was showing me grace beyond measure. And she wanted me brought to her! Why? Thoughts came into my head, but I pushed them away. I couldn't allow myself to think such impure things about her, especially not while her goodness was shining so brightly on me.
After the meal I was led to her private apartments. I hesitated at the door, wondering if she always received visitors there. Surely it was too intimate a setting for affairs of state. But I was not an ordinary visitor. She had, for reasons I did not know, chosen me.
As I raised my hoof to knock, the door swung open. "Come in, Anon," came her melodious voice.
The door shut softly behind me. It clicked, locking us in together. I looked around. Fine tapestries hundreds of years old hung on the walls. Here was a sumptuous couch with intricate carvings and hand-embroidered pillows. There, an end table whose wood grain had been polished so finely it reflected my face like a mirror. And there were windows everywhere that let in the light of the sun.
"Over here, Anon," came her voice again.
Her voice led me to her bedroom. She was lying on her bed. Against its rich violet, her white coat seemed to gleam even brighter.
I bowed. "Your Majesty, I have come."
She laughed. "No need to be so formal. Call me Celly."
"Oh no, I couldn't, Your Majesty—"
"I want you to call me Celly. Come lie here with me."
"As you wish, Celly." My mouth tingled with pleasure as it formed her name. Celly! Not "Your Majesty." Not "Princess Celestia." Not even "Celestia." She wanted me to call her Celly! She was never Celly in public. Her nickname was too cute and girlish for that. No, only her closest friends could call her Celly, and only in the coziest, most private settings. And she was telling me—foolish, worthless me!—to call her Celly!
I lay next to Celly on her bed. The sheets were fine silk, smooth and soft and befitting her station. The cushion beneath our heads was delicate golden brocade. I didn't dare touch her—touch Celly, I corrected myself, reminding myself to use her name—but the bed was spacious, and I had no trouble keeping a discreet distance.
"Do you know what I brought you here for?" asked Celly.
"No, Celly."
"Any guesses?"
"No, Celly."
"I've invited you into my bed, and you can't guess why?"
Celly's eyes twinkled. Was she teasing me? She was allowed to tease me. I could never be so impertinent as to tease her back. Even if I worshipped her for a thousand years, I would never earn such familiarity. I said, "No, Celly."
"Anon, do you have much experience with mares?"
Experience with mares? Of course not! I had never been tempted by other mares. Celly was the only mare who mattered to me. That she even asked this question made me feel guilty. I would have to show her how thoroughly she could trust me. I said, "Never, Celly."
"With stallions?"
"Never, Celly. I'm not interested in stallions."
"But you're interested in mares?"
"Only one."
"Which one?"
My cheeks felt hot. I couldn't lie or tell a half-truth or refuse to answer, not to her, especially not when she had asked me directly. "You, Celly."
As before, a smile flickered across her face. "I thought as much. Anon, would you like your dreams to come true?"
My dreams? What could she be proposing? Surely she didn't—she couldn't—it was impossible! "I beg your pardon?"
Celly laughed at me. I didn't mind. "Close your eyes," she said. I obeyed.
The sheets rustled, and Celly's muzzle touched mine. Her lips were hot like fire. I shuddered.
Celly cooed, "I want you to make me feel like a mare." Her hoof tickled my chin. Then it strayed ever lower. Down my neck. Lower. Over my ribs. Lower. When her hand stopped, it was in a place I had never allowed myself to imagine her touching. I gasped with pleasure. She continued, "I need your help, Anon. I want to make love to you."
"Oh, Celly!" I exclaimed. "I love you!"
Once again, Celly smiled. "Perfect," she said.
Keeping myself pure for her had deprived me of experience, so I didn't know how to begin. And surely she, who could never succumb to base lust, was just as inexperienced as me. I was relieved when Celly rolled on top of me. I would follow her lead. I would do whatever she wanted. Her pleasure was more important than my own.
Celly straddled me. By now her touch had made me erect. She lifted herself and positioned me at her entrance. I caught a glimpse of her intimate parts, which were swollen with arousal and dripping with sweet nectar. She lowered herself a little and my tip penetrated her. The feeling was pure rapture.
"Celly," I mumbled. "Celly dearest, please let me pleasure you."
"Don't worry, Anon, you will."
Celly lowered herself all the way, and I slid inside. She felt warm and wet around me. She rocked up, then down, then up again. As she came down a second time, I thrust up to meet her. At that moment, my heart and my body became part of her. I no longer mattered. I had not mattered for a long time. Only Celly mattered. Celly, and her gorgeous, smiling face above me, and her slick tunnel around me. They were all that mattered. I existed only to service her, to penetrate her when and how she desired. My body was her tool, and that was as it should be.
There was a tingle deep inside me, and I felt myself growing harder. Sensing this, Celly slowed her pace, and the tingle subsided. "It wouldn't do for you to finish so quickly," she said. What kindness! What generosity!
"Thank you, Celly."
"Anon," Celly asked, "have you figured out yet why I brought you here?" She still moved up and down, stimulating me and herself, but she seemed unhurried, as if she wanted our union to last longer.
"No, Celly."
"I've ruled for over a thousand years, but there are no records and no reports of my ever having had a lover. There aren't even rumors. Do you know why?"
"Nopony was worthy of you."
Celly paused her motions to lean over and peck me on the cheek. "Oh, you're all so sweet!" she said. "But no, that's not it. You see, I can't really have a lover." She resumed her thrusts. "My cutie mark isn't just about making the sun rise and set. The sun is a part of me in a more, let's say, intimate kind of way. I learned when I was a filly that I had to be very careful not to have anything flammable around during my naughtier moments."
Celly felt hot to the touch now, so hot that she was nearly scorching my coat. Yet I didn't mind the heat. It was her heat, a special heat.
Celly continued, "I've gotten very good at fire resistance spells. They're on the bed, the sheets, the cushion, the whole room in fact. Everything's enchanted except me—and you. No matter what I do, the poor stallion under me always gets roasted. So I've stopped trying. Which is why none of you count as lovers. You're more like one-day stands."
Celly quickened her pace. Where her thighs touched me was painfully hot now, and each thrust into her was a thrust into a furnace. Despite the agony, I didn't slacken. I was not here for myself. I was here for her, and I would be with her to the end.
"I tried masturbation for a while. It didn't feel right to keep burning ponies to death. But then I had a different problem. Ponies like you! Forlorn, helpless, and absolutely mad about me. The half-mad ones I could make into royal guards, but your type nearly overran Canterlot. I had to do something, but nothing I tried helped. Not food, not shelter, not education, not jobs, not even whores. And finally I thought, well, masturbation isn't as much fun anyway."
Celly moved rapidly now as her climax approached. Her body glowed with heat. Its whiteness had become the purifying whiteness of hot metal. The skin on my legs and chest was charred to ash, and I could no longer feel the lower half of my body. Yet my suffering didn't matter. I endured it willingly, even joyfully, for her who was on top of me. I thrusted by pure instinct, not knowing what motions I was truly making or whether they pleased her, sure only that this was my only remaining purpose in life.
"I have averaged one or two a week for most of my reign. Tens of thousands of stallions have died here, in my bed, between my legs! And every one of you has been unceasingly loyal to the end!"
As Celly threw back her head and cried out in blissful ecstasy, flames engulfed me, and I knew my service was complete.