The Wedding Bells
She’d never looked so gorgeous in her life and she knew it. Admiring herself in the mirror to enjoy the sight of her delightful self was an pleasure she could have indulged in for hours, were it not for the heavenly joy that was to transpire oh so soon. Just look at herself! All bright and beautiful, makeup perfectly applied across her face to allow her fair appearance a pristine smoothness that shone; the dash of eyeshadow across her lids had taken time, but that sultry blue made her eyes sparkle like the diamonds she adored. Her nails were trimmed down to the finest line and done so perfectly, a dash of resin across their unblemished canvas to see them shining beneath the light. And all that was outside effort! Heavens knew how perfect her body naturally was, how hair fell down to her waist in elegant curls, gloried in its brilliant sheen; the perfect hourglass figure, her luxurious legs, and those perfect breasts…
But now there was something new upon her. A beauty beyond herself, a glory that could only have been crafted by her hands. Oh, this dress! The most perfect, the most silken, most sensuous wedding dress of white she’d ever crafted! Draping from across her shoulders down to just above her white platform heels, the metallic dress shone with the radiance of an angel and all the sultry beauty she could pour into it. A deep, open back that plunged down to just above her petite, spankable bottom- a perfect match for the open neckline that showcased her flawless cleavage and down to just below her navel. Only a small binding of cloth held the garment together across her chest, only a small button just below her neck; a sliver of propriety, but a dress made to be easily cast aside. The skirt was snowy and pure, a departure from the wet, metallic sheen of the bodice so as to further emphasize her chest. Did it fully conceal her bottom? Yes, but at the sacrifice of revealing the inner layer that only just covered her most treasured possession- meant only for one! Leg warmers of silvery-white covered leg from the thigh to just above the ankle, shimmering like water upon her skin.
Rarity twirled about before her mirror and was unable to suppress the giggle of pure delight that fell from her lips. Oh, there was only one bride in the world who could hope to match such lavish loveliness! And to think she was to be married in just a few moments! And then, after all that waiting, she would be able to enjoy the benefits of marriage in full…
It had been an accidental meeting, if she were honest. Neither had meant to come across the other- and their conversations had proven it! How rude and uncouth they’d been to one another, fighting and arguing like a couple of bratty young girls! A separation, a life headed in different ways, had been their only recourse. But the time away had allowed more heated aspects of their personality to cool, to let sensibility slip in and see their ego’s lessened- just enough so that they might see the spark between them. Time spent together had allowed them to see one another in a new light, to see the quality beneath their initial vexation: no suitor, man or woman, would ever be as beautiful. None could hope to know them better, to be what they desired in a spouse. They had been meant for one another right from the very start, and only their time apart could have allowed either one of them to realize it. When they had been able to finally reunite, the love story that blossomed soon after was inevitable. Attraction and romance became deep, indescribable passion; marriage had taken little time to rear its head and be seen at the end of the road. Rarity had all but demanded to be her bride! And now the day had come at last! Oh, who gave a care if her friends disagreed, demanded she find a different love? She knew this was the only correct path; no one would ever be able to be more suitable a match. No one as graceful, as elegant, as unyieldingly beautiful would ever be found anywhere upon the earth.
The clock beside her bed struck noon and let its shrill ring echo through her bedroom. Before her full-length mirror, Rarity’s beautiful head turned towards the sound as mind recognized its meaning, spurring her heart to give a leap. Oh, it was here at last! They would now both be ready, and she would be awaited downstairs! All the paperwork, the makeshift altar that would suit them- her bride! Were it not for the solemnity of the proceedings, she might have found herself racing down the stairs to where her dear lover awaited screaming out her vows. But she had to maintain decorum, even if it was a wedding assembled only for two. After all, her darling had not chosen to marry an overly excitable child. She wished to wed a lady!
Down the stairs from her chambers did she go, walking slowly upon her thick heels towards the boutique’s fitting rooms where ecstasy awaited her. Oh, her heart could not stop beating! She was so excited, beyond happiness and thought and being! The most magnificent day of her life was here, and she was to be wed to the most glorious woman who had ever been- how could she ever have hoped to be so lucky? It was more than she had dreamed of, had ever imagined; her world could not be more perfect.
At the door to the fitting rooms did she pause, rapping gently upon the door to signal her arrival. “Oh darling,” she called, and Rarity hoped it did not tremble with emotion. “Are you ready?”
“Of course, my love,” came the reply on a voice sweeter than the thickest honey. “I cannot wait to see you.”
Through the door did the beautiful seamstress stride, and before her was a vision of utter loveliness the likes of which no dream could have hoped to conjure. About the altar were a veritable garden of flowers, some so vibrant and shimmering that surely some enchantment had been laid upon them. The altar itself even seemed to glow with a darkened light, the parchment that lay upon it calling for her to come forward. And there just before it all stood the most splendid vision of a woman Rarity had ever known, the most magnificent creature the world could ever imagine: her nightmare turned dream, enemy turned lover, and lover soon to be bride- her Rarity!
The sight of her took the fashionista’s breath away. Oh goodness, the sight of her! The very same wedding dress she herself now wore, only colored a glistening black and shining like a dark star in the sky. Everything about it was a perfect parallel, down to the smallest stitch. Upon her snow-white skin did it shimmer, liquid blackness put to fabric and made to shimmer beneath the light. But the wedding dress was only a garment, a shell about the finest sight of all: her Nightmare darling, so splendid and beautiful that even Rarity knew she could not compare. The hair that shone with flecks of starlight amidst the streaks of violet and white, locks more lustrous and lovely than what earthly prowess could possess. Her eyeshadow matched her love perfectly, accentuating those jewels for eyes and the smile just below. How her skin was so smooth, her body so supple! Finer breasts, plumper lips, more succulent thighs- she was perfect in every conceivable imaginings, unable to be equaled! Rarity wanted to squeal at the sight.
“Oh, my dear Rarity,” Nightmarity breathed, hands on her hips as she took in the sight of her fully adorned bride. “You truly are extraordinary. Such a perfect bride.”
“Oh, I’m nothing compared to you, darling,” Rarity flushed, but delighted to hear the compliment all the same. “Are- are you ready?”
Nightmarity smiled and offered her hand for her seamstress fiancée to claim, the two locking hands and standing before their darkened altar. It would be a simple ceremony, nothing magnificent or grand to bind them together; just vows, rings, and united love.
“Let this wedding ceremony begin,” Nightmarity declared, her silken voice spurring the quill and ink that rested beside their wedding certificate to come to life. It hovered just above the parchment, awaiting the words that would see it take action and seal their promise. “My beautiful Rarity, do you swear to be my bride?”
“I do, darling,” Rarity said, her smile so wide that it threatened to hurt her cheeks. She heard the quill work furiously against the paper, but her eyes could rest upon nothing but her beloved.
“And do you swear to never love another?”
“I do!”
“And do you swear to bind yourself to me forever, no matter what?”
“Oh, I do, darling!” Rarity cried. It was so close now, just one more act to see them eternally wound in perfect matrimony.
“Then upon your finger do I place my token,” Nightmarity proclaimed, a ring of glistening obsidian in her grasp and placed on Rarity’s finger- a perfect match to the darkened jewel that currently rested on her own digit. “Never shall it leave you flesh, and never shall it be replaced by another. To this, do you swear?”
“I do, darling!” Rarity said happily. “Oh, my…”
“By my glorious power, I declare us wife… and wife,” Nightmarity said, her violet-colored lips curled in a triumphant smile, hands coming about her beloved’s and holding them fast. “Your bride demands a kiss, my dearest!”
Rarity didn’t even need the order, throwing her arms about her wife’s neck and planting upon those perfect lips the most passionate, joyous kiss she could ever hope to offer. The feel of her wife’s arms about her waist, pulling her closer so that they might deepen their embrace, the two leaning back and letting the passion of the moment consume them. Oh, it could not have been more perfect.
They broke apart- eventually. A few dozen more first kisses needed to be performed first before they could be temporarily satisfied, their embrace ending as spouse looked upon spouse, each wearing their own expression of delight and triumph. No hatred kept them apart, no disapproval had stopped them. They were married!
“Now, my sweet delight,” Nightmarity purred, “You are mine.” In a flash, she swept Rarity off her feet and held her fast, the shocked seamstress giving a cry at the action. “Shall we consummate the marriage?”
“Oh, we must, darling!” Rarity cried, arms about her beloved’s neck so as to see herself steadied in her arms. “Take me upstairs at once!”
She could not have been more delighted, a giggling mess as she was taken up to their wedding chambers. Oh, the sight her dear darling found as she pushed the door open! That simple bed now decorated by sheets of thin silk, a line of crimson petals leading to its side, and all about them the scent of fresh roses. Though she had ensured to see herself prepared most fairly, Rarity could not neglect the fertile land in which they would unite themselves.
“You were quite busy, I see,” Nightmarity whispered, gazing at her new bride with a brilliant smile. “Meant to tempt me?”
“Oh, only if you were unsure, my love,” Rarity murmured.
“I take you as my bride. What else would I know but certainty?” She carried her new wife and set her gently upon the covers, carefully seeing those platform heels pulled away from Rarity’s form. A quick kick of her own dark soles and the two became nestled together atop the sheets, in each other’s arms and happily supplying a session of petting.
“Won’t- won’t you take me, darling?” Rarity asked, cradling her bride’s cheek in the palm of her hand. Nightmarity seemed to be taking her time, allowing eyes to travel along her form rather than seeing fingers do the work instead. Had she done something wrong? Failed, somehow? The thought was soul-crushing.
“Oh, but where to start?” Nightmarity said sweetly. Body came to life as she caressed her pristine beloved, the fullness of Rarity’s flesh felt under her fingers. “There’s so much of you to adore, to worship. How would I even know where to begin?”
“You’re teasing me, darling,” Rarity murmured.
“Perhaps I begin with your arms. Smooth as porcelain, just as soft,” and from her hands up to her shoulders did Nightmarity supply a line of kisses, gentle pecks upon skin that set Rarity to goosebumps.
“But there are also your thighs. So succulent and juicy, especially with your leggings,” so fingers found her out and pinched at flesh oh so perfectly; gentle yet teasing, fierce yet loving, sending electricity throughout.
“Ooh, darling…” Rarity breathed. Heart was beating so much faster now-
“And there is your hair. Finer than satin, like beautiful rivers of color,” Nightmarity whispered, and she brought locks to her nostrils so that she might drink in their scent, know the jasmine and lavender that had showered them. “Or your body, so magnificent and beautiful. So perfect in feminine brilliance,” and she saw hands course across concealed breastflesh, across waist and thigh until she had felt the fullness of female form.
“Darling, please~!”
“But right now,” Nightmarity purred as she leaned in close, “I wish to have your lips.” And upon Rarity’s trembling lips did she plant a slow, delicious kiss that sent a lightning shot through her bride’s heart. Not one, not two or three, but dozens came upon her and soothed her lover’s craving spirit, gentle presses as mouth united with mouth. They were a desperate thing, alive with desire and fire, yet no more aflame than the simple warmth of a candle, a pair of crimson jewels finding their mate over and over. They moved together like the flow of a peaceful river, slow and matching each other’s motions; the need for anything more had not yet come, and so the peaceful shower of lips upon lips was all that called to them.
But the serenity did not last. Rarity had waited too long for this day, too long for a bride to ravish her; to be dulled by the lushness of a simple peck on the lips would not do! A nibble of her darling’s pair was the sign she gave, a plead for more-
And how she answered! Out came that sweet, darkened tongue to find her own, a candied delight as salivating muscle tempted its betrothed. Come out from your darkened world, it beckoned; come and make music with me! Rarity’s mouth opened wide so that her own tongue might join the fray and not allow lips alone to feel the slickened sensation, two pungent morsels licking away together in happiness.
Rarity felt weight press against her body and thus she leaned back against the pillows behind her, her new bride remaining atop and seeing their cascade of kisses continue. Arms wrapped about body and roamed free, joyous massages arriving alongside every new lick they offered to one another. One stroke across the tongue meant a massage of bottom; a deep press together and faces were caressed. More and more did they begin to incense one another, needing more and yet so joyful in what they possessed now. Rarity could not have asked for more, for anything more than Nightmarity’s perfect kisses; how her tongue knew this ballet so beautifully, to see the most thickened coatings of drool fall upon her own! They could not dance long enough, not in a lifetime’s worth of loving could they share enough kisses! But she had to have more, to speak aloud her thanks in ways words would never match-
A tongue retreated, its absence felt by its mate that sought her out- and about that sweet candy did Rarity ensnare, lips coming to find that dripping tongue and see it suckled. Oh, the sound of her wife moaning! She allowed a frenetic, chaotic frenzy of suckings to ensue, from the rabid to the gentle and across every inch of it. She wanted to feel the smallest details, taste every ounce of Nightmarity’s mouth. If she did not leave her new bride soaked and desperate for more, then what sort of lover was she? Rarity needed to be generous, to lavish upon that thick tongue all her love and affection. A pull away so that the heavy band of slobber might be seen and thus break- but then back to that perfect tongue did she return, so ferociously suckling that her bride was almost left staggered.
But arrogance it would have been if Rarity believed her love to be consumed. Nightmarity allowed her form to come to life even as she let her bride’s worship carry on. Her hands went to the button behind the seamstress’ neck and saw it severed, fabric made to lie limp and be pulled away. Tearing the top of the dress down, she found those succulent breasts awaiting her caress, her touch. They called to her, beckoned to her- she would answer! One last, dribbling suck did she accept from Rarity before she retreated, only relenting from her onslaught so that she might offer one last droplet of spittle upon the woman’s hungering tongue.
“Darling..?”
“Enjoy this, my love,” Nightmarity said, hands full of flesh and her mouth hungering for the feel of what was to come. “Let me pleasure you.”
“Oh, but yours are so much- Ah~!” The fashionista’s protests were rendered useless from the moment Nightmarity’s mouth began to lather upon teat, one hand gently flicking away at nipple while tongue massaged upon the other. Sensitive flesh was put to raptures, made to react when given affection by outside source. The fingers that fell upon her were both gentle and yet not, intent on bringing about pleasure even if suffering was what caused it to be. And that mouth- that sweet, golden, glorious mouth that knew her needs to well that it may as well have been instinct! How her bride tended to her, lathering tongue setting her nerves afire. If it were not a lick, it were a pinch; were it not a tweak, then a gentle nibble upon the teat would see her give cry. Pain? Oh yes, there was pain. But how glorious it was, especially when delivered by one so lovely! Her dear bride was playing her as though a maestro, knowing just how to elicit a response. The tongue that twirled about her nipple, wide arcs that traced the areola so slowly- only for a swift lathering to suddenly fall upon its center, a split-second of frenetic action a perfect counter to the gentleness just before. But then would be that soft, playful hand that toyed with her; a fondle here, a massage there- and then a tweak! A flicking of the teat that would come with a fierce pinch, always able to make her cry out. It all felt so wonderful!
Nightmarity rose from her place of worship, freeing those succulent mounds from her grasp though still keeping her new bride held fast atop the covers. To the back of her dress did her hands fly, undoing the clasp on her back so that her magnificent breasts could spill forth and be adored. The very sight of them, so perfect in form and size! Even Rarity’s own splendid pair were rendered petite in comparison, succulent mounds with no peer given their lavish attentions. Back to Rarity’s breasts did the dark beauty fall, seeing them pressed against with her own squishy orbs. A gentle massage was what she gifted next, a thorough rubbing of breastflesh- and a gentle, barely-felt grinding further down below. At first it was only as though a kiss, soft nipple finding hardened tit and offering a firm press; meeting and melding, rubs soft as well as thorough. It was enough to make Rarity coo- but then came the firmness, an up-and-down motion to set the nerves afire. The heady weight of Nightmarity’s breasts upon her own, the rubbing of nipple upon nipple, the fashionista’s aroused pair pushed to flame; she could not resist the agonizing pleasure this brought, so torturous and joyful all at once. Nightmarity was tormenting her, teasing her, provoking her to desperation! Rarity leaned up with tongue outstretched, hoping for the slightest kiss as a salve, but the tip of her lover’s tongue only inflamed her further. She could not be sated, satisfied, with anything but a completion to their union.
“Darling,” Rarity breathed, so heated she could barely speak above a strained whisper. “Please, no more. I can’t wait any longer…”
“My poor dear,” Nightmarity said, a smirk on her face as she gave one last deep rub of her breasts- powerful enough to make her bride moan. “You only have to ask. Spread your legs, then, my love. Allow me to free you.”
Rarity did as she was commanded, sumptuous legs spread wide for her new bride to plunder. She knew the panties of her wedding dress were soaking wet, a thorough mess made by the loving actions of her wife; oh, she knew how good those fingers would feel, how they could pluck and play with the dribbling folds below-
But what was this? Nightmarity took to her knees and saw the panties of her darkened gown made free, unblemished flower revealed for Rarity to gape at. The sight of such a thing! Pristine in every which way, a slight glistening to their petals as the sugary sweetness within spoke to her own desires. So absorbed by the beauty of such a thing that the seamstress noticed not when Nightmarity pulled free her own sodden slit to open air. Only when she felt the first rub of their folds meeting did she return to the turning world. A deep, thorough, absolutely magnificent grind! That first massage made angels sing in her ears, a flash of white across her vision. Though her spouse continued to offer up further exertion, Rarity had been rendered temporarily stupefied. Just the very feel of her dark counterpart was so magnificent, so utterly glorious that she knew not what to do!
“Am I so wonderful that you cannot speak?” Nightmarity teased, pausing in her actions as she took note of Rarity’s inertia. “Come now, my darling. Surely you’re not already wilting.”
The playful words, combined with the absence of pleasurable feeling, were enough to see the glorious woman return to her senses. Yes, she was entangled with the love of her life, soaked through and already put to the edge. But her bride beckoned for her! Oh, even if she could only offer up a little before the sea broke her, she had to respond! Rarity held herself fast and gritted her teeth, her first outpouring gladly met by Nightmarity’s own massage of folds. The two were unified at last, fully together in flesh- and it was magnificent! Thick, thorough coatings of juices did she provide for her lover, each combined press making her gush all the more, soaking the bedsheets with every kneading. She wanted to cry out, needed to, but if she loosened her tongue then all of her spirit might go with it! Surely she could offer more than just simple efforts, the mildest of exertions. Rarity pushed back against her dark bride’s jeweled slit again and again, reveling in the feeling of wet flesh and smooth skin of the thigh against her own.
“Oh, that’s it!” Nightmarity cried- somehow the first to declare her ecstasies in this union. “Don’t stop, my darling, you musn’t stop!” The ferocity with which she pleasured her beloved was now a wild action, the rhythm with which she had first begun now being lost in the maelstrom. Too delighted was she to maintain focus any longer.
Rarity took the pleading as joy to the heart; she was able to satisfy her perfect darling after all! The thought invigorated her, set her body aflame- the heady press she gave with sopping-wet folds was a passionate thing, glad to feel the sticky spatter upon her skin. Was it hers? Nightmarity’s? It mattered not, only that their juices flowed, they cried out and made music together. About her wife’s neck did she throw an arm, pulling her in for a kiss so as to stem the tide. The moan that came! Tongues frolicked within the darkness, dripping with flavorful saliva that flowed as freely as the fluid below. The two lovers rocked together, pushed hard against one another, grinding and pressing and desperate to be left reeling. It was only a matter of time now; lidded vision was becoming cloudy, struggling to maintain sight. Efforts to scissor were staggering, slowing as the force of the coming wave made her body seize; just a little more, one more coo from her dark mistress and she might be satisfied~!
Nightmarity seized, arms about her wife holding extraordinarily tight. The two wives became rigid, a ferocious cry escaping their melded lips as orgasm broke them both. Together did they flow out, the gushing of the waters across bedsheets and skin alike, half-sentient attempts at further massaging with each new pulse. The first waves of ecstasy were magnificent, unrivaled, enough to render them both mute; only when they allowed the release of delight to continue did they find their voices again, happy moans as tongues still played and danced together. The third rocking coursed through them, then the next… one fifth and final tremor ran gently across them, and no more after. Rarity and her lover were at last able to return to their senses and see clearly. But perhaps not so clearly; eyes were opened and found the one who had made love to them, the source of their greatest happiness. Though breath was still a faltered thing, the two women were glad to lean forward and kiss once more. Their bodies still heaved with the effort, struggled to find rest, but too deeply did they desire one another to stop their session of love. Lips called for them, hands needed to play with tussled hair or massage body. The droplets of sweat that fell beneath their fingers were a source of pride, testament to their affections. Though the air was heavy with the heat of their fervor, shame they knew not.
Rarity, slowest to recover from the union, was awoken from her stupor by the trail of kisses Nightmarity left upon her shoulders. Calling for her, pleading for her, marked lips finding bare skin and trailing up to her neck. She had only been kissing those lips a moment before, had she really succumbed to her fatigue without noticing? “Darling..?” She murmured.
“More, my love,” Nightmarity pleaded; a nibble of the earlobe, a lick of the cheek. “Please, I must have more of you! It was not enough, not anywhere near enough. Again, I must demand it.”
Rarity giggled. So needed, was she? Though body ached just from this first frolic alone, there came upon her form a rush of energy to charge her. It was only the beginning, and perhaps not enough to fully satisfy her hungering beloved, but she would try. After all, this was her wife. The one she would make love to for all her days. Why on earth would she ever want to stop?
“Only because you said please, darling,” Rarity said, offering a slow, thick lick of nipple as her first answer- and given a shudder of delight in reply. “As if I could say no to you.”
It had been a rather pleasant day, really. Cooler weather had found the will to warm up just enough that a late morning meal at the cafe was a comfortable outdoor scene. Combine that with good company of old friends, and Sweetie had quite enjoyed herself. It was the first time Babs had been back in town for ages, and the four girls had all been eager to catch up. Was Apple Bloom's new strain of apples yielding harvest? How was Scootaloo's apprenticeship at the mechanic going? How was Sweetie Belle's music career? The amount of time seperate had allowed them plenty of time for conversation.
When she'd left earlier, her sister had been in a flurry of activity. Working on some new project or another, and the importance of it had been easy to notice; rarely did something make Rarity run about the place in a stream of giggles. So engrossed in her task was she that any question Sweetie had offered wasn't even noticed. The young woman could only hope it had went well for her.
She opened the door was immediately met with the wafting pong of satisfied flesh. The curling of her lip was instinctive, immediate reaction to the overwhelming pong. Good gods, how long had she been going? It had pervaded through the entire house! Even the windows were smeared with moisture from the heat. How on earth had she even managed such a thing?
Moving to the bottom of the stairs gave her the answer she needed. Sweetie gave a groan, the sound of motion in the rooms above all the clues she needed to confirm her suspicions. “Damn it all,” she muttered, “she’s having sex with her mirror again.”