Author's Notes:

Contains: Consensual bondage, no clop, not even explicit, but really sweet.

Written by Ashi

“Oh, it must've been around seventy or eighty years ago now,” Princess Celestia said, an elegantly-shod hoof massaging the graceful curve of her chin thoughtfully as she turned her head up into a suitably wistful expression. “An exhibition at Canterlot Museum of the then-new medium of photography. There were all the usual suspects you've come to expect, of course: arty monochrome shots of an elderly relative looking pensive, a bare tree sitting atop a hill framed by a broken fence, waterscapes, landscapes, and so on and so forth. What you must remember is that we'd literally never seen anything like it, though. It was all so free of pretension back then.”

“But that still doesn't explain-”

“-I know, Twilight, I know. I'm getting to it.” The Princess of the Sun held up a foreleg to interrupt her one-time student and now lover, favouring the younger alicorn with a radiant smile as she did so. So eager, ever since she was a filly. Waiting for things to happen had never been Twilight Sparkle's strongest suit. “To the surprise, though embarrassment might be a more apt word, of the guests there was also a display of, ahem, more risqué topics. War, death, poverty, and erotica.”

“Ah.”

“Yes.” Celestia's lilac eyes glazed over as she recalled what it had been like to stand amongst the other upper-crust attendees as they were simultaneously appalled, intrigued and aroused by the final set of images that the curator had mischievously worked into exhibit. Her own reaction had been one of mild interest; the medium was a fascinating one to be sure, catching a snapshot of life with a precision even the best painter couldn't ever hope to match, but her long life had afforded her a degree of detachment from many of the subjects depicted. Until one particular photograph had snagged her attention and refused to release it:

At first glance, it was nothing more than another solitary, lonely-looking tree and Princess Celestia had been about to move on, but the second glance revealed so much more. The tree was old and gnarled, its many limbs growing chaotically in whatever direction they pleased, an obvious relic of Equestria's ancient past before ponies had learned to tame their environment through magic.

One of its thicker branches was suspended some ten feet over an idle river; attached to the limb by an intricate series of ropes – although the photographer had taken great pains to give the illusion that the subject was bound by the worming tendrils themselves – was a startlingly beautiful blue unicorn. Alive and well, of course, but so still, so at peace, that one could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. One could almost get the impression that she felt more at home there than she did anywhere else.

Awestruck by the tranquillity of the scene, not to mention astonished by how difficult it must've been to accomplish from a technical standpoint, Celestia spent a long time just looking at the photograph until she'd committed every detail of it to memory: the surreal mists cast by the foamy river dashing against the rocks, the sharpness of every blade of grass, the wrought pattern of the indentations in the tree's bark, and – perhaps most importantly of all – the pony herself. Sadly, no name was attached to the depressingly formal blurb accompanying the picture, and the princess silently bemoaned the fact that she would never find out more about this unicorn that had so entranced her.

This clarity of detail extended to more than just the tree and the grass, however; the elaborate latticework of the criss-crossed ropes, with their perfectly executed knot-work, were rendered with exquisite crispness. Even individual strands of the unicorn's undulating pink hair could be discerned, falling about her form in such a way that they accentuated what was on display rather than hiding it. Celestia soon found her roving eyes' consideration brought to the almost-invisible depressions in the supple flesh where the ropes ever-so-slightly dug in to it. She found herself surprised by this; she would've expected it to be tight enough to cut off circulation, but no, the unicorn was embraced as gently by the tapering strands as she would have been in the hooves of a considerate lover.

Patience. That was the message underlying the picture. The photographer and his or her model would've been keeping a sharp eye on the weather, waiting for a day when not even the slightest of breezes would blow so that not a single hair, blade of grass or leaf would be stirred out of place; the model herself would've had to have been incredibly tolerant to withstand the hours that it must've taken to rig up the harness that connected her to the tree. Even then, they would have been waiting for the right time to actually capture the image. When the sun was hanging just right in the sky. When just the merest hints of shadow played across the unicorn's beryl surface to accentuate the sinewy muscle and exquisite flexure of her body revealed by the blushing light.

Even with her physique on display in such a manner – the ropes did not conceal, merely emphasised – the picture did not feel lewd, but rather … it felt sublime.

“In a way,” Celestia said, using her magic to levitate an earthenware cup to her lips and taking a small sip of mint tea, “I'm glad that I never met the artist nor the model. I think it would've ruined the story I have built up in my mind around it. I mean, intellectually, I can take a guess at how the whole thing was arranged, but not knowing for sure adds to the allure for me.” She took another drink, savouring the invigorating coolness suffusing her chest, and resettled the cup delicately on its coaster. “Incidentally, I never did see any other work by this particular model, so that's another intriguing mystery.”

“Almost as if it had been constructed just for you?” Twilight said, her voice laden with suggestion, her own tea forgotten as she processed what her lover had told her. “I mean, if you're still obsessed with it eighty years later it must've been very powerful.”

“I don't know if obsessed is quite the right word,” replied Celestia, feeling her muzzle crease slightly at Twilight's imprecise choice of words. “It captivated me. Anyway, I learned much later that it was a practice that had originated in the lands to the far east of Equestria. The Beauty of Tight Binding, they call it. It differs from our parochial view of bondage in that it's less about the sense of power one feels in restraining another, and more about the artistry of the knot-weaving and its effects on the body itself.”

“And your wish is to do this to me?” That was classic Twilight Sparkle: cutting through the chaff and getting to the nub of the matter.

“No,” said Celestia slowly, her right ear twitching slightly. “I wish to do it with you. Even if you are the bound one, you're still an integral part of the process. The most integral part of the process, actually.”

Twilight's brow furrowed, her mind awash with memories; she'd only ever been shackled by monsters seeking to do her and her friends harm, and she could not for the life of her imagine any sort of sensuality or aestheticism being derived from such a confining practice, but … she loved Celestia, and more importantly she trusted her. “Okay,” she finally said.

“Twilight, you don't have to agree simply because it's me that's asking. It isn't a deal-breaker by any means. I'm perfectly content with our relationship as it stands.”

“It's obviously something that is significant to you, otherwise you wouldn't have gone to all this trouble, and that makes it meaningful to me, too. I'm glad that you felt that you could share this with me, and if nothing else it would be rude of me to dismiss something you attach such importance to without at least giving it a try,” Twilight said, a curious fluttering sensation tickling her belly. She was nervous, but also excited. Nervouscited, as Pinkie Pie might say. It was not, she had to admit to herself, what she'd been expecting when Celestia had invited her to the castle for tea apropos of nothing, but there was precious little that Twilight enjoyed more than learning, and learning that there were deeper facets to the mare that she was so desperately in love with was the best kind of education. “So. When would you like to begin?”

Not even bothering to maintain any sort of formal decorum, Celestia eagerly said, “Tonight, after I lower the sun, if it's convenient for you?”

“Until tonight, then,” Twilight replied with a rather arch incline of her head before draining her now-cold tea to try and drown the butterflies doing their merry fluttering dance in her stomach.

“When you live with your family, not to mention having hundred of guards, servants and visiting diplomats around at any one time,” Celestia was saying while leading Twilight Sparkle down an ornate marble staircase, their path illuminated by the golden aura of her horn, “even when your home is as large as this, it's important to set aside areas that are understood to be sacrosanct.” For a moment, there was only the sound of their echoing hoofsteps as they descended deeper into the bowels of the castle. “Short of an Equestria-ending catastrophe, it is understood by all that they are not welcome down here in these most intimate of areas.”

“And Luna has a similar wing on the other side of the castle?” asked Twilight Sparkle, ruminating on this new information. As a filly, she had been a regular visitor to the royal palace; either to receive specific instruction in her magical lessons from Celestia herself, or simply to explore the expansive grounds as many were wont to do on their days off. She'd thought she'd explored every conceivable nook and cranny, but this staircase – hidden behind a bulwark in the throne room – had been a complete surprise to her. Clearly, the princesses placed a great value on these having these hiding places to get away from the stresses involved in royal life go undisturbed.

“Yes, she does,” Celestia said, cocking her head to the right for a moment. An unerring sense of direction came with having lived in the same environs for over a thousand years. “She spent quite a bit of time there after her return. Mostly, I imagine, catching up on the millennium of history she'd missed out on. Mostly.”

An involuntary shudder went through Twilight's body at the implication contained in that word. She got the distinct impression that it was something that the sisters had silently agreed never to speak about, though a burning sense of curiosity filled the younger alicorn. She pushed that question aside to focus on the here and now. “How often do you come down here?”

“Probably about once a week for a few hours, though that can quickly double or even triple during conference season,” replied Celestia. She suddenly stopped, startling Twilight, and smiled. “You're probably thinking that this is a lot of effort to go through for some peace and quiet when I could just put a barrier spell on any room in the castle, right?”

“Well, yes.”

“The physical distance is just as important as the mental distance, I find. Knowing that my problems were still lurking on the other side of a locked door wasn't as psychologically satisfying as having them twenty floors away.”

“Twenty floors?”

“Don't worry,” Celestia said, masking a grin behind her hoof, “we'll be able to teleport between here and the throne room now that you've got the distance worked out.”

Her panic attack about the possible long climb averted back, Twilight's attention was drawn to the brick corridor that they found themselves in upon reaching the landing; she suspected that it was once the castle dungeon, and she said as much to Celestia.

“You're right about that,” the princess said, the deep lines of a scowl forming on her muzzle. Celestia led them further down the corridor, lanterns springing to life as they passed bestowing upon the gloomy passage a welcoming glow. “Fortunately, they haven't been used as such since the last great war, and hopefully they'll never have to be used to imprison anypony ever again.”

“Except me.”

“In a manner of speaking.” Celestia was glad that Twilight was maintaining a sense of humour about the experience; she might not be able to convince her that there was anything of worth about the practice from a standpoint of carnality, but at least she was willing to try, at least she wasn't acting cynical or sceptical. That was the thing she loved most about the younger alicorn: her open-mindedness. Finally, she stopped on the threshold of a particular room. “Twilight, once we go in, we don't come out until we're done. Which could be several hours at least. This is your last chance to say no.”

Celestia watched the play of emotions on Twilight's face, running the gamut from hesitant to earnest; she was so easy to read when every feeling, every thought, was etched so artfully across her muzzle. “I'm ready.”

Twilight's supposition was that the room they had just entered into had gone unused for some time, but that Princess Celestia had furnished it in a hurry; the exposed brickwork and wooden beams should've made it feel small and oppressive, but the amber spill-off of the table lamps gave it a cosy, almost intimate, air. There was a small chair in the middle of the room, an old table with a burlap sack sitting next to it, and what looked like a couple of wooden tubes about the length of her legs and half as thick. Only the rusting hinges – presumably the heavy iron grates that they had once been attached to had been ripped out long ago – and faint scratch marks in the mortar hinted at its rather drab past. The young alicorn's mulberry eyes were drawn to something shiny and silver attached to one of the ceiling beams. Upon closer inspection, she discovered that the objects were in fact a row of eye-bolts. “You've tested their load-bearing capacity, I presume?”

Celestia nodded. “Each one is capable of holding up to two hundred kilograms.”

“Better safe than sorry, huh?” Twilight said, a slightly huffy tone in her voice as she counted the number of eye-bolts.

Stifling a giggle with her hoof, the Princess of the Sun placed a kiss on the tip of her lover's horn. “I was more concerned with the age of the beams than I was with your weight, Twilight. They are rather old after all, and I thought it'd best to distribute the load as much as possible.”

Somewhat mollified, Twilight returned the gesture with a silken smile, though she had to raise herself up on her forelegs in order to reach Celestia's. Returning to all fore legs, her breath quickened slightly and there was a definite catch in her throat as she spoke her next words, “So … how do we begin?”

Instead of replying with words, Celestia offered her foreleg to Twilight, which the younger alicorn gratefully accepted; the princess led her to the middle of the room, kissing her lover affectionately on the lips while gliding her hoof along her silky lavender coat. Twilight made a noise a noise in the back of her throat as Celestia's hoof found her rump and gave it a soft squeeze while their tongues met in a passionate embrace. Breaking the kiss – somewhat reluctantly – Celestia's lilac eyes met Twilight's mulberry ones. “If you could please sit for a moment while I prepare.”

Too enervated to speak, Twilight silently complied with the request; her mind was so flooded with adrenaline that she could barely think in a straight line, and she caught herself almost toppling over before she regained her balance. All that from one kiss! It was from their first, but the younger alicorn felt as though something new, something once hidden, had just been revealed to her from that simple act: the depths of stimulation that Celestia was capable of evoking when she put her considerable mind to the task.

Levitating the sack and untying the knot which kept its contents hidden from view in the same swift motion, Celestia emptied the items it contained onto the table. Twilight saw that there were a number of light brown ropes piled on top of each other, waiting to pounce like coiled snakes. “Some recommend jute rather than hemp,” Celestia said, cutting into Twilight's alarming thoughts, “but I think that the hemp ropes have a softer texture, in addition to being a lot stronger. Could you hold out a leg for me, please?”

Twilight did so; Celestia took one of the ropes in the grip of her magic, and wrapped it gently around the proffered leg. “How does that feel?”

“It's feels fine,” the younger alicorn said. “What-?”

“-Hold on a moment.”

A moment passed and Celestia nodded in satisfaction before removing the rope. “Rough? Itchy? Coarse?”

“It was quite soft, actually. Kind of … tickly, I suppose, is the best way to describe it, but not unpleasant.”

“Good,” Celestia replied before explaining: “One, I wanted to check to see if you were allergic to the rope. It wouldn't be much fun if you were breaking out in hives during the process, after all. Two, the tactile nature of the rope and its proximity to your flesh is part of the experience, and I don't think you would be able to stand it for very long if it was scratchy and irritating.”

“I appreciate your forethought.”

“Safety first.”

Celestia levitated a strand of rope from the pile high into the air with her magic and drew it through the first of the eye-bolts with the needle-point precision of a master seamstress; she gave it a couple of experimental tugs to make sure that it was fastened securely to the beam, then matched the length of both ends before tying them off with a neat little flourish. It had been a while since she'd done this, and the princess was pleased to see that she wasn't nearly as rusty as she'd feared she might be at the knotting stage. Then again, learning to tie was one of the basic skills a unicorn was expected to become proficient in. “Stretch your forelegs out as far as you can, and try keep to them as straight as possible, Twilight,” Celestia said, giving the younger alicorn an expectant look.

With only the slightest trace of hesitation, Twilight did so; she took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths, and found that most of her anxiety had faded by the time she'd completed her little exercise. Cadance's method certainly did come in handy, though she wondered if the Princess of Love had ever envisaged its use in a situation such as this. “How's this?” she asked tentatively.

“Perfect. And hold that pose.”

One of the wooden tubes was brought up behind Twilight and she craned her neck to get a better look at it; it was, in fact, a bamboo stalk, and she felt its rugged contours brush up against her arms and arched back as Celestia manoeuvred it into position, defining the length of her outstretched limbs.

With the methodical exactitude of one who had spent thousands of hours honing their craft, Celestia manipulated the ropes in her magical grasp until they were tenderly, carefully, lovingly, wreathed around Twilight's forelegs; the younger alicorn's muzzle stiffened as a tinge of anxiety thrilled through her when she realised that she could no longer freely move her upper body, but she firmly set her jaw rather than make any complaint to the princess. Quickly finishing her work with a pair of loose knots – leaving quite a sizeable section of free rope – at the tips of Twilight's hooves, Celestia leaned into her ear and asked in a low, warm whisper, “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. It's just a little disconcerting to be … exposed like this,” Twilight said honestly, feeling the sweat beading on her forehead. It wasn't like the princess hadn't seen every part of her before, but this wasn't like those other times; she could still feel the warmth and love that Celestia radiated, but there was something else at work, too: a craftspony at work, a sculptor contemplating an engraving, searching out any and all imperfections. Twilight couldn't help but feel a little perturbed by that, that she was nothing but a puzzle to be figured out.

“Do you want to stop?” Celestia had caught the doubt etched on Twilight's muzzle.

“I'm fine, really.” In spite of her misgivings, she wanted to complete this little adventure for Celestia's sake; she might not saying anything, but Twilight sensed that the princess would be broken-hearted at ending this so soon.

Accepting Twilight's word, Celestia gave her a quick peck on the tip of her ear, then grasped the loose section of rope and threaded it through the network of eye-bolts; with this now done, she would be able to hoist her bound lover into the air and her weight would be nicely spread amongst the ceiling beams. Doing it with magic was one thing, but this was something else entirely. Celestia found that Twilight's flushed cheeks and look of naked vulnerability was incredibly endearing, and the bindings set the scene off rather well. A prisoner brought in front of a cruel tyrant. Knowing the practice's connection with ancient disciplinarianism, Celestia found that she was unable to fend off some of the more unseemly fantasies conjured up in her mind's eye. Maybe it'd be a bit longer before she could share that aspect of her personality with the younger alicorn.

Returning to the present, Celestia passed a rope through the eye-bolt that was furthest along the beam, then brought its length down to Twilight's ankles; next, she gripped the other bamboo cane in her magical field and aligned it along Twilight's spread hindlegs. Instinctively, the young alicorn tried to bring her violet tail up to protect her modesty, flushing brightly as she did so, but with a benevolent smile the princess flicked it away with her hoof. “It's nothing I haven't seen before, Twilight.”

“Still, though, it's a little bit … different … like this.” Twilight had expected it to hurt, for her body to be straining to its limits to cope, but Celestia had been right: the weight was distributed so perfectly across the beams that she was feeling none of the tension at all, only the glossy smooth encasement of the rope pressing snugly against her flesh itself. Mentally, her mind was racing though as she considered how fragile and, indeed, how bare she was up here. It wasn't a simple matter of her most intimate parts being fully on display, it was knowing that Celestia could do anything she wanted to her and she wouldn't be able to resist. She couldn't help wondering if the princess was having those exact same thoughts.

Using a third rope, sliding it down under the croup of Twilight's back – Celestia made a mental note of the spot for future use when she heard a soft giggle escape the young alicorn's throat – and attaching it to the ceiling to take the weight off the ankle ties left Twilight Sparkle hovering more or less horizontally, her fore- and hindlegs prostrate. With the remaining length, the princess looped it around her barrel, then brought the concluding whorl down around her hips. Celestia hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should draw the final strand of rope through Twilight's pelvis, but she finally decided that it was probably too much too soon. This wasn't about sex right now. After a few patient moments, the knots were tied and there was very little lavender left to see, but Celestia savoured what was on view, enhanced by the sight and smell of the rope.

“Are you all right?” asked Celestia, stroking the graceful curve of Twilight's neck lovingly. “Are you comfortable?”

“Surprisingly, yes, I am,” Twilight replied, amazed at the weightless feeling she was experiencing … and even more amazed that it had been accomplished without the use of magic.

Only Twilight's unsupported head was still fully visible at this point, and Celestia's took off the shoes of her forelegs in order to feel the fine silken threads against her bare flesh; she traced the lines of Twilight's purple and pink highlights, eventually gathering it up in her hooves. She braided it together simply, as she had once done with her sister so long ago, then brought the final piece of rope – a much thinner one this time – to bear. With a few simple knots, and a final loop through the eye-bolt, even Twilight's hair took on an ethereal, wafting quality.

With Twilight now completely bound, Princess Celestia took a step back to admire her hoofiwork; if somepony were to burst through the door right now announcing the end of Equestria, they'd probably do a double-take at the ensnared form of the younger alicorn, thinking that Celestia had lost her marbles and had started rounding ponies up and subjecting them to cruel tortures. She felt a smile blossom on her muzzle. There were cruel tortures and there were very sweet tortures. With a brush of her foreleg, she wiped away some of the burning sweat collecting on her brow. She had no idea what time it was. The practice of binding required absolute mental focus, and somewhere in the midst of it all she'd lost her connection to the sun. Her smile dimmed.

“Is everything all right?” asked Twilight, the slightest edge of distress creeping into her voice as she observed the slant of Celestia's face.

“Hm? Yes, everything's fine, Twilight.” The princess shook her head, though not to clear it. Without the crushing pressure of the sun, she felt lighter than she had done in years. Pity it couldn't last longer. “I got so wrapped up in things, no pun intended, that my link to the sun has been momentarily severed.” To allay the inevitable panic, she quickly added, “Don't worry. It happens from time to time when I allow my mind to wander. It is but the work of a moment to re-establish contact. How do you feel?”

Twilight moved her head as much as she was able to and took in her rope-embraced form; while she was far from an expert on knot-tying, she could appreciate good work when she saw it, and even the least important of bows were an intricate work of art in themselves. She took a deep breath and it felt cleaner, purer, than it had any right to this far down in the belly of the castle. Her limbs were limp and relaxed, as was her spine, supported totally by the lengths of thread coupling her to the ceiling. Surprisingly, she felt at peace. “I feel … good,” she said brightly, no trace of anxiety or fear whatsoever clouded her tone. Twilight felt as though she'd perhaps gained a smidgen of understanding: here, trapped, she had given herself utterly and completely to Celestia. There were no tough decisions to make, no worries, no agonies, just … bliss.

It wasn't confinement, it was freedom.

When Celestia began to gently disentangle her from the ropes and the bamboo, Twilight was almost disappointed, though she was careful not to let this fact register on her face. It had been an amazing bonding experience for both of them, and she didn't want to leave it on a sour note. When at last she was back on her own four hooves – if a mite wobbly after having been constrained for so many hours – she looked up at the Princess of the Sun. “Can we … I mean, will we do this again?”

“If you'd like to,” Celestia replied, using her magic to return the ropes to the sack, delighted that Twilight had enjoyed herself so much and was open to continuing the practice. “There are many variations on the theme still to explore after all.” There were as many twists and turns to the practice as there were stars in the sky, and Celestia's mind raced as she pictured herself and Twilight working their way through them all, but she would be patient, breaking the young alicorn in carefully, gently, and most critically of all, with love and tenderness.

As they prepared to return to the throne room, both ponies became lost in their thoughts; Celestia's mind turned to that ancient photograph that had so dominated her imagination, and now that she had made that fantasy a reality with a mare that she loved with a fervidness that surpassed any relationship she'd been in before, the princess felt a certain sense of … completeness. Twilight, for her part, had learned that bondage was not a confining experience that one needed to be anxious of, but one that professed liberation and comfort.

Most importantly of all, both had come away with a deeper understanding and respect of the other.