It’s dark. It’s always dark. I’ve gotten used to it, but opening your eyes in the morning to almost nothing always takes a little acclimation.

                    There are candles lining the perimeter of the room. They’re fitted on slots in the stone walls in this room that’s probably much larger than it needs to be – it’s just me here, by myself.

                    Most of the time.

                    The stone is cold. I’ve gotten used to that too, but it’s more noticeable when you can’t move your body away. The chains are cold too, and they’re digging in to my wrists. I don’t struggle, really, but it’s hard to not feel a need to adjust when they’re pressed so tight against your skin. She makes them a little tighter than I can deal with it. It’s how she keeps me waiting for her. One of the ways, anyway.

                    You could describe this room accurately as a dungeon, and I do, in my head, most of the time. The atmosphere is dark and tepid, and the air always feel a little heavy, like its carrying a blanket of soft moisture. It doesn’t make breathing too hard, but it gives the constant sensation of needing… clean air. Something from the world outside. Needing maybe isn’t the right word, but it’s certainly a longing.

                    I’ve been chained here for hours. Time doesn’t have much meaning down here, but by estimation I can say that I’ve been like this since she woke me up. That’s how I gauge the passage of days – when she tells me they begin, and when I’m directed that they’ve ended. Today started a while ago, when I saw her first. It hasn’t ended yet, because she hasn’t returned. So I’m not about to let it end, or to let myself fall asleep. That would be very bad.

                    It’s hard to pass the time, so I find myself thinking about her most of the time. I miss her when she’s gone. I’m sure she’d like to hear that.

                    The sound of the door lets me know she’s here. Where my eyes have been half open through the rest of the day, they’re wide and bright now. I can feel my heart fluttering in my chest a little. The chains are still there, but the pain of the metal against my wrists isn’t noticeable anymore. She’s here. I’ve been waiting for her all day.

                    “I’ve been waiting for you all day,” I blurt out into the relative darkness. I haven’t seen her yet, but I can feel the soft breeze that follows her, with the fluttering of her wings or just the way the air chills when she walks. I love it. It’s like an intoxicating reminder of her presence. I’m not sure if she wants me to be so enthusiastic, but I can’t help it sometimes. Besides which, I catch her smiling when I let her know, most of the time.

                    She doesn’t respond. I scan the room, trying to peer across the poorly lit stones towards the entrance to get a sight of her. Nothing. I keep my eyes strained, yearning to catch just a glimpse of her, to know that she’s there. A sound like a fall breeze laden with flittering crickets and gnats brushes my ear at the side. I can barely turn my head, but I do manage to tilt it just enough to the side. She’s there, smiling at me in that way she does. Her fangs are poking out over her bottom lip.

                    I try not to gush. She likes to think it’s work. The process is constant self-reminders.

                    “You’ve been waiting for me, have you?” Her voice. Heaven on Equestria, I have no words to describe it. It tinges the air around her words, fraying it at the outside and burning away the wisps of breath unworthy to witness her intoxicating speech. Poetry isn’t a strong-suit, but I’ve taken to composition in the time I have to wait, trying to find a way to convey the way it makes me feel. The way she makes me feel. Her voice is sultry sinews of language woven into each other, awash with the crawling of insects up your spine that every word brings, shaking beneath the purity of her power. It makes me feel cold inside, in the best way I could possibly imagine.

                    “Yes,” I manage. I’m prone to stammering in her presence, unless she demands my composure.

                    She steps closer, and into better view. I can see most of her through the left side of my periphery. Taking in her appearance is like drinking a heady wine – the way her hair bobs from side to side as she moves, the way her brilliant green eyes make me feel weak all over – not that there’s a particular strength I could find chained to the wall of her dungeon anyway. As I’m consulting ancient Equestrian playwrights for the words to describe her in my head, I feel her hoof on my bare chest. Black lightning courses through my skin. I have to restrain myself from brazen wantonness when she touches me. Try to restrain. Try to maintain some kind of composure.

                    But, I see her smile when she gauges my reaction. She runs her hoof along my chest, tracing it over my stomach which I suck in reflexively at her touch. She lets the touch go as low as my waist, which makes it a struggle to keep my body held back, before she traces her hoof up again, slowly lingering over every inch of my exposed body.

                    Her hoof is different. It’s a mixture of textures I’m yet again at a loss to describe, though this one is more concrete than a lack of hyperbole. It’s still soft, at least to the extent it can move and yield at another touch, but it feels harder, and somehow thinner. Kind of like a mix between very thin tree-bark shavings and the slippery texture of a scaly fish. It’s hardly unpleasant – any apprehension at such a bizarre feeling has long been washed away. Now, it’s enough that she’s touching me. Every time I feel any part of her against my skin, the surface of my body tingles, followed by the accompanying shivers. She knows how it affects me, just like everything else. Still grinning, she slides her hoof along my stomach, lingering just at the top of my waist. I can’t help it this time. I make a sad attempt at a thrust out from the wall.

                    She giggles to herself, and dances her touch along my body, teasing just above my very noticeable erection. Arousal is difficult to contain around her as well.

                    “Have you been feeling put out, left here all day?”

                    Every question is rhetoric. She gets in moods sometimes.

                    “Yes… I couldn’t wait to see you.”

                    “I can tell. You’re in quite a state.”

                    Gah. The way her voice sounds when she teases me… it’s all I can do not to beg.

                    She’s smiling the whole time. The corner of her mouth is tipped up at the corner, and her fangs are still protruding. Occasionally, she flits her tongue out and taps against the points of one of her teeth while she’s caressing me. Her hair is soft, and its waving against her head in some invisible breeze. I want to reach out, to run my fingers through its impossibly thin and dry strands, and feel her fangs against my lips with our mouths pressed together… but things are under her direction, for now. I’m an assistant.

                   My body jumps when she taps against the head of my arousal with her hoof. Instinctively, my body arches forward, startled, but yearning for more of her touch. She giggles again. I’m not at the point yet where I’m screaming pleas into my own head, but it’s not far off.

                    “Do you need me to take care of you?” she asks playfully, rubbing the sole of her hoof against the tip of my cock, tracing in circles around the edge and delighting in the way I twitch with every movement.

                    “Please, I would be so grateful, your highness…”

                    I catch her eyes widening for a moment when I use the honorific. She likes that sometimes too, as a reminder.

                    “You want your Queen to debase herself by pleasuring a filthy animal like yourself?” She leans against me. I can feel her skin, her body, soft and chitinous in places like the carapace of a flexible insect. My body arches against hers, and she drapes one of her hooves over my shoulder, running it along my back and the back of my neck. I let out a low groan as she rubs her face against my chest. Her breath is against my skin. Her hair is inches away from my face. I inhale deeply, and the scent of dark caves and softly stinging acid hits my nostrils. My cock twitches. My mouth is hungry for hers, but she doesn’t seem to be in that kind of mind-frame.

                    “Your highness, I know I am not worthy of your affection, I can only offer you my undying love in the hopes that you will take pity on me…”

                    She grabs my face between her hooves, and holds my head in place. I’m staring right at her, she’s raised up on her hind legs and looking at me face to face. Her stomach is pressing against my erection, and I’m struggling not to groan shamelessly, while praying that I don’t leak precum all over her skin.

                    “Your undying love? You expect your Queen to humiliate herself for your adoration, is that it?” She inches her face closer to mine while she speaks, and only inches away, extends her tongue and licks slowly up my left cheek. I have to close my eyes. I can feel her hungry gaze burning into my skin. I didn’t know what to expect when she came back – I’m not sure if this was anything I’d had in mind. I forget sometimes, that she need reassuarance, in her special way. If that’s what this is… I can only guess.

                    “No, of course not, your majesty, never would I dream of such a thing… I simply wish to be clear when speaking of my love for you. It is at the forefront of my mind, now and forever… My urges are of no consequence.”

                    I open my eyes and find her staring back into them. Her nose is pressed against mine. Her breath is pressing softly on my lips. When I match her breathing, I smell crisp leaves and summer swarms of insects. Her eyes are wide, and beaming, with twinkles at the sides like she might burst into tears at any moment. I don’t want that. But before I can say anything, she kisses me.

                    It’s almost enough already. In an abstract sense, it’s never enough. Her lips are dry, but they’re heavenly pressed against mine. I can feel her fangs against my upper lip. She turns her head when she kisses me, tilting it to the side ever so slightly and exhaling softly against my skin. Her hair hangs over her head and lies against my chest, and I notice every strand. Time slows to a crawl when she kisses me. We don’t kiss. She always kisses me, unless by request.

                    Her tongue is thin and limber. I feel it tapping against my closed lips, and I open them, parting my mouth to let her inside. She teases me, darting in and out in tiny bursts, just the tip tracing along the edges of my teeth, and the very top of my own tongue before she pulls back again. The chains and wall are gone, and the only thing is her.

                    When she breaks the kiss, she drags her fangs over my bottom lip, and I taste blood for a moment as I feel them pierce the skin ever so lightly. She pulls her face away, and I see the tiny drops of red-liquid speckling her teeth.

                    “I do so love all of my subjects… but you, the most of all.”

                    That’s her way of saying it for now. My heart jumps in my chest – it stutters almost sideways as I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder. I try to turn and look, but my head is held in place by the brace. I can catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye – her face is pressed against my bare skin, and her mouth is tight against my shoulder. Her eyes are closed. A soft moan is accompanying the stabbing sensation.

                    After a second, the pain subsides, mostly, and she’s pulled away, leaving a trail of red along where her mouth traced before she removed it. Her fangs are bright red now. She licks her lips, wiping the specks of tin-flavoured sanguine, and then lowers her head again, this time rubbing the side of her face against my upper arm. I’m twitching again, my arm and body and more pointedly somewhere else. The expectation is built up now, and the way the electric sensation of ‘when’ sizzles in the back of my mind makes me hold my breath. I count the seconds. One. Two. Three. Four. Fi-

                    “Hnnnng…”

                    I can’t help but let out a groan when I feel her bite down. It hurts. It’s the best thing I can remember feeling for a moment as the white hot pain washes across my body. My cock jumps. The pain subsides. I open my eyes, and remember to breathe again. She’s still there, chewing gently and suckling at the blood pouring from the two holes. It’s hers to take – whatever she wants.

                    I feel the need to jump again. As she suckles at the fresh wound, she slides her hoof along my chest again, tracing circles lightly against my skin before she slides her touch lower. Against my stomach, and circles again. Lower. Pressed into my hip bones, going across my waist where a belt would be. My hips move against the air-weight pressure. She backs off. My hips move again as the touch returns. She’s lapping at my arm now, a tiny sound echoing into the dark room as her tongue flicks the red liquid off my skin and into her mouth. There’s a drop or two spattered against her lips.

                    Just like that, her hoof slides lower. The dry-wet scale-texture of her caress is suddenly along my shaft. I want to jump again. This time my body arches with enough force to rattle the chains on my arms before I collapse back against the wall. There’s enough give to move almost a foot out, but the braces still hurt – or, they do hurt, sometimes. Not right now.

                    She keeps licking. The amount of blood is a little unsettling from to punctures, but her teeth are sharp, and they dig deep, when she wants them to. I can’t pay attention. I’m too distracted. Her hoof is sliding almost insubstantially along my shaft, moving up and down in leisurely strokes along one side, tracing over the tip with a tiny circle, and then going down the other side. Every second is a burning sensation, burning because I can feel myself get harder just at her touch. I can’t decide if I should beg her to stop or go on. Going on because it’s amazing, every time, so close from just one caress and body-consuming pleasure. Stop because it IS just that close, and I don’t want it to end. I also don’t want her to be disappointed.

                    She pulls her mouth away, finally, leaving a trail of blood where her fangs have traced along my arm. Her touch becomes a little stronger, pressing ever so slightly harder against the skin. Running her hooves along the engorged veins and head coated in pre. She stops as she makes her way down once or twice, circling the base and grinding her hoof against the base of my cock, pressing into my pelvis. It makes me groan, and I arch my hips toward her touch, which makes her smile wider.

                    I don’t have to tell her. She can tell, most of the time.

                    “My my… are you so close already? Just from one touch of your Queen’s affection?”

                    “Yes,” I manage to spit out in the middle of a groan. As she teases me, she runs her hoof along the underside of my head, stroking lightly across the sensitive spot. If I was a girl, I’d be soaking wet, dripping on the floor. Instead, I’m only slightly wet, coating my own head in smooth, glistening liquid. She pulls her hoof away for a moment, and licks the base with her long tongue, staring at me as she does so. I have to hold it back now. Especially like this.

                    “Very well… your Queen is excited to see you too. She will permit you relief, so that she might bathe in the shower of your love.”

                    The way she says it makes it sound even better.

                    Her face is gone, leaving a black emptiness where her emerald green eyes and sweet-smelling hair was a moment ago. But I can feel its replacement. Her hoof is on my erection again, this time moving more insistently. She’s sliding it up and down each side, hard, rubbing against the skin without restraint. She runs up and down the full length once or twice, and then places her hoof at the very tip. She slides her leg forward, aligning the tip with a spot on her foreleg. Without pause, she moves her leg towards my body, and the tip of my head presses against the inside of her hole. One of several gaps in her scale-like body-texture. It’s small enough to feel tight. Small enough that she has to press down extra hard before the already lubricated tip of my cock slides through the opening. She pauses with her foreleg pressed against the base of my crotch. I thrust up at her touch, grinding against her leg. I tilt my head back against the stone, groaning and clenching my eyes tight.

                    I feel a thin wetness against my member. I open my eyes by some miracle, and look down; her tongue is hanging out, and she’s licking the head suggestively, staring up at me with her eyes wide. She looks almost innocent for a moment. My hips stop for a second. She slathers the tip of her tongue along the tip of my cock, and mid-groan she dives forward, devouring my entire member in one gulp. The groan grows louder, and stays to the extent of her swallowing, stretching into long seconds before she slowly slides her head back, letting my cock out of her mouth with a tiny ‘pop’. She looks up at me again, smirking, and raises her leg, sliding my shaft along the inside of her hole. The texture is masked with the spit and my own lubrication, but there’s more than enough friction to feel like I’m buried inside her just from a small gap in her leg.

                    The way she looked at me just then – it was just a matter of seconds counted, holding out.

                    I can’t even speak, nor do I need to. She lowers her mouth just over the tip of my cock, and moans softly in her sultry swarm of insects voice as I grunt. My hips move forward, and there’s a fire going through my body, starting low and consuming everything. My mind blanks for a moment. My body arches away from the stone, and with another groan I let loose the climax that had been building since my brain caught the thought of her arrival. My cock is painfully hard as it twitches. My balls tighten, and spray the back of her mouth with my load. It’s big, and it dribbles out the sides of her mouth as I fire stream after stream of hot sperm into her throat. After she takes the first few shots in her mouth, she pulls away, and the next few streams land on her nose and cheeks, coating her pure black fur in sticky whiteness. She doesn’t stop moving her leg for a second, grinding out every inch of my orgasm against the sticky but dry-textured inside of the gap in her carapace. Her movements are slow, slow enough to milk out every last drop of cum as I spray the last remnants onto the end of her nose. She extends her tongue, licking her lips and the tip of her nose, collecting a healthy dose of white goo, which she pulls into her mouth and swallows. Her eyes are brimming with satisfaction of the soft gulp echoes throughout the room.

                    She proceeds to clean the rest of her face, tracing her tongue along her own cheeks, and even dabbing lightly at her forward before sliding the payload of jizz into her waiting mouth, and devouring it hungrily. I’m panting. The stone feels especially cold against my skin, which is hot, almost burning. I let out another small groan when she pulls her leg away. The insides of the hole still presses against my cock, which hasn’t gone a bit soft. It doesn’t often, around her.

                    “Looks like you were very pleased to see me today.”

                    Without warning, my wrist chains undo with a snap. I fall forward to the floor, landing only an inch in front of her hooves as I meet the cold stone. I caught the flare of green from her horn. I let out a low groan of appreciation as I rub my wrists in relief. I look up, and she’s there, standing on all fours and looking down at me devilishly.

                    I think the act is over, for now – what part of it may have been an act, in any case.

                    “I really did miss you,” I say. “…thank you.”

                    “You have no need to thank me,” she says, smiling. Her eyes open in alarm for a second, as though she’d forgotten something. Her tongue darts out again, and catches a stray dollop of cum that was still left on her left cheek. She closes her eyes as she swallows it, humming softly to herself. Her face returns to a contended look of satisfaction. “Such an enthusiastic display of your love is more than enough thanks.”

                    “I do love you,” I say, words jumping from my mouth before my brain can process their composition. “More than anything.”

                    She closes her eyes and sighs softly. Her body is glowing ever so slightly, tinged a faded emerald green. It pulses against the blackness of the poorly lit stone. When I speak, her horn sparkles. She opens her eyes again, and smiles at me. Her face is leaning forward, and then her lips are there, on mine, sending sparks up my spine before she pulls away again. She doesn’t have to say it. I know.

                    “Your love means a great deal to me,” she says by way of summation. I don’t need to say anything either. I understand, about her, and us, and much more than that. All for her that I have learned, however.

                    “You can rest for a while… I have some further things to attend to.”

                    I nod, and she turns curtly, walking to the exit of the stone room. She pauses once, very briefly, just for a quick turn of her head in my direction. Short enough that I might not notice. But I do. And it makes the ache in my wrists and shoulder vanish. She’ll be back when she has the time – but she came to visit during the day for a reason. Most of the time, she comes again at night. She lets me sleep that way, sometimes resting at her feet, and other times next to her, arm draped across her body and held close.

                    My love keeps her going, she says. It gives her the strength to make it through the day.

                    In a manner of speaking.