Two and a half months ago:

“I’m not afraid of you,” Lady Rarity told the tall dark unicorn stallion who was looming over her.

“Then you are a fool.”

Lady Rarity Belle had to concede that Lord Darkmoor had some justification for his opinion. She was after all chained to the wall of his dungeon and at his mercy, which rumor claimed was nonexistent. The only defense she had against losing her virtue was a dress that was already in tatters, revealing far more of her creamy white hide than a modest lady such as herself was used to. With the death of her uncle there was no pony left to ride to her rescue. Not that her cruel relative would have likely gotten up from his dinner table to do so. Yet for all of that, she spoke the truth. She was not afraid of the overpowering masculine stallion who had her in his complete control. For she knew things about him that possibly no other unicorn noble in Equestria was aware of.

Rarity had made it her business to find out all she could about Lord Darkmoor when he started stalking her family. Or rather, her clever-witted earth pony maid, Applejack, had done so.

Rarity knew about the orphanages, the schools for the poor, the repairs to the homes of his earth pony tenants. The homes for unwed mares, the free corrective eye-wear for the visually challenged indigent. No, Lord Darkmoor was not the fiend he went out of his way to portray himself as.

Lord Darkmoor took hold of the front of Rarity’s dress, and ripped it open, spilling her gleaming white, untouched by any male, breasts out into the torch light.

Of course, she might be mistaken.

“Do you fear me now?” The dark stallion said in a husky voice as one of his calloused hands clamped over her breast and squeezed, drawing an involuntary whimper from her.

The rough digits, so different from others of his class, reminded Rarity of how her uncle had arranged for the then twelve year old orphan lord to be shanghaied on a ship heading to Nippony. How it had been captured by pirates and how he had spent his formative years among those barbarians. He had returned home in secret, with a fortune in stolen treasure to fund his quest for vengeance. He had more than ample reason to hate her family. But still. “No. I do not my lord. Compared to the fate my Uncle had planned for me, there is nothing you can do that would be worse.”

“Are you sure of that, my lady?” Darkmoor said as he cupped his free hand between her legs. The thin fabric of her dress offered scant protection as his thick strong fingers pressed against her marehood. She writhed in an effort to escape, even as a bolt of pleasure shot up her spine and her breast grew heavy in his hand.

“He was in the middle of contracting for my marriage to Lord Dry Dust when he, ahem, passed,” Lady Rarity said in a strained voice. She shuddered in dread as her words brought home once again how narrow her escape from that fate had been.

“Lord Dry Dust?” Lord Darkmoor exclaimed in shock. His fingers which had been caressing her body in a most distracting way stopped their motion. That was good. But they did not retreat. Her feelings on that were mixed, to say the least.

“Indeed.”

“But he’s over eighty!”

“Indeed.”

“He already has five wives! And buried six others!”

“Don’t forget the earth pony concubines, my lord. Or the rumored Pegasus mare he caught on an ‘ahem’ hunting trip.”

“No, we must not forget those. Or his forty six legitimate children. What could your uncle have been thinking.”

“I imagine it was the very large check Lord Dry Dust was prepared to write, my lord.”

“Good grief. No wonder you don’t fear my touch.”

“Indeed, my lord. Compared to that fate there is nothing you can do to me that would be worse.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to try harder,” Lord Darkmoor said, and ripped the remains of Rarity’s dress from her body.

The deep stone dungeon was dark, dank, and chilly. So the heat flooding Lady Rarity’s body could have nothing to do with the central heating being turned up too high. “My Lord!” she protested. “I am not my uncle. I have been as much his victim as you. Can you not see that?”

“For somepony who claims to know me so well you seem to have forgotten one very important fact about me,” Lord Darkmoor said as his hands roamed over her helpless body.

“What? Please, tell me what I have missed,” Lady Rarity panted. She was rapidly losing what little control she had over the situation. Her traitorous body was betraying her as it responded to his touch.

“I was raised a pirate. And no pirate worth his sea-salt would ever let a delicious bit of crumpet like you go untasted. It would be a crime against his very masculinity, and an insult to you.”

Lady Rarity could only gasp as she surrendered to the dark lord and arched her body, pushing her virgin cleft against his probing fingers. “Please have mercy on one who had only ever wished you well,” she cried out, hoping to appeal to Lord Darkmoor’s true gentlepony nature. Darkmoor was too involved in savoring her lush body to respond to her entreaty. But somepony else heard her lament.

With a great crash the door of the dungeon burst open and a booming voice yelled out. “Fear not fair Lady Rarity. Your champion, will not allow this rogue to violate your purity.”

A huge figure dressed in armor far to small for him clattered through the burst doorway. He brandished a sword that would looked like it was intended to fight full grown dragons. Ironic, as the bearer was himself a dragon, albeit on the smallish size for that species. He waved his bludgeon of a sword at Lord Darkmoor while declaring, “Have at thee rogue. I shall split you from mizzen to mast.”

Rarity stared in horror at the intruder, suddenly even more conscious of her unclothed state. She drew her legs up and did her best to hide herself from his gaze while crying out, “Spike. What are you doing here?”

“Why. I’m here to save you, Lady Rarity,” Spike boomed. He posed heroically, his pecs flexing so much that his breastplate broke away from his body and left his hugely muscled chest exposed. His pectorals did a little flexing dance. It was almost hypnotic.

Spike and Lord Darkmoor began to fence. Their swords clashing and throwing off sparks as they jumped from the floor to tabletop before each of them grabbed a chandelier and swung toward each other, swords flashing. It was all very theatrical, but Rarity was in no mood to appreciate it. She flushed darker and darker each time Spike’s gaze swept her stark naked. No matter how she twisted her body she could not hide her nudity fully, especially her breasts, which swayed and bounced from her struggles. Several times Spike nearly lost his head as his eyes focussed on those dancing orbs. If Sweetie Belle saw this she’d totally misunderstand the situation.

“Rarity! How could you? You promised me you’d stop vamping Spike. And here you are flaunting your body in front of him,” an outraged Sweetie Belle yelled from the top of the stairs.

“No, no, no!” Rarity cried out. “I can’t deal with this now.” Ever since she’d been confronted by her tearful little sister Rarity had been promising she’d let Spikey Wikey down easy, soon. She was just waiting for the perfect moment. As Rarity wrestled with her inner guilt all around her the dungeon, Dark Lord Darkmoor, Sweetie Belle and Spike vanished in a blur of colors. Rarity reared her muzzle toward the blank sky and let out a shrill scream of frustration as the bindings holding her in place dissolved and a chic stylish outfit covered her nudity. Bad enough she could never get a moment of private time with Sweetie Belle staying the week with her, now her little sister and her drama were even butting into her erotic dreams.

“And just when things were getting interesting too,” a rather bemused female voice said.

Rarity whirled and stared in shock, before dropping to her knees in a profound bow. “Princess Luna! I didn’t see... How long have you been...? did you see?”

Rarity trailed off as she noticed the white and red bag Luna was holding, and the handful of fluffy white kernels held in her hand. “Is that a bag of popcorn?” Rarity’s expression was a mix of outrage and embarrassment, combined with her natural reverence for somepony of Princess Luna’s status.

“What, no, of course not,” Luna said, hastily vaporizing the incriminating bag.

Princess Luna was royalty, and a goddess. She was so far above Rarity that normal standards simply did not apply. If there was anyone at fault here, it clearly was herself. For having such lewd and improper dreams. Or so Rarity told herself.

Despite Rarity’s rationalization, and her behavior, there was a hard core of resentment deep down at having her dreams, her most intimate and private sanctuary, invaded like this, then realization struck home. “Of course. This is dream. You’re not really here. I should have realized. Princess Luna is not some sort of voyeuristic slut who takes pleasure peeking on the erotic dreams of her subjects.” She turned her back on Luna, giving the phantasm a dismissive wave with her hand.

Behind Rarity’s back a vein twitched in Luna’s forehead, and then vanished as a speculative look appeared on her face. Her body dissolved into a cloud of glittering black fog, and then into two separate clouds.

“Ahh, no, let me go. You can’t do this. How are you doing this?”

Rarity turned back in surprise as she heard those words, spoken in a very different style and tone than the one used by Princess Luna, and froze in place as she took in the tableau in front of her. The figure of princess Luna was struggling against a set of four chains that held her body suspended in the air with her limbs pulled out so her body formed a large vertical X. Her back was toward Rarity and her plumb muscular ass clenched in time with her wildly flailing tail, until a length of rope snaked down from above and secured it in place, yanking it up and laying bare the purse of her sex and the wrinkled circle of her anus. She was totally and fully exposed.

And then, just like that, she was not Luna.

The pony hung up by the chains now had no wings and her cutie mark had shifted. Instead of Luna’s distinctive crescent moon it was now a fluffy cloud made up as a bed. The color of her hide was a soft grey, and her mane was a fluffy off white.

“Forgive the interruption, Rarity Belle. I have been chasing this miscreant for some time now and could not chance her escaping her just and deserved punishment once again.” From behind the strung up pony Princess Luna in full regalia appeared. The princess of the moon gave the nude and helpless pony beside her a quelling look and that pony ceased her thrashing and whimpered, her bound body twitching as she tried to draw away from Luna.

“What? Who?” Rarity stammered.

“The who is Dreamy Slumber. The what is that she is a pony who’s talents mimics my own dream walking ability to a small extent. Unfortunately she regards the dreams of her fellow ponies as sources of entertainment and gossip. Hopefully, with your help, I will be able to modify that attitude now that I have succeeded in capturing her here in your personal dream space.”

“Please. I’ll never do it again. I promise,” Dreamy pled. “Don’t throw me in jail.”

“What good is jail to one who can escape into dreams. No, your crimes were here, and so then here shall take place your punishment. Administered by the one you have sinned against.”

Luna turned to Rarity and held out her hand, offering her a riding crop that had not been there a moment before. “I trust you will make good use of this,” Luna said, with a quirk of a royal eyebrow.

Rarity fought her first impulse to stick her hands behind her back. She was a gentle well-bred lady. She did not switch the bottoms of other mares. No matter how much they might deserve it, or how much she wanted to do so.

For a very brief moment a shadowy image of Applejack flickered in place of Dreamy Slumber.

But, if this really was Luna, visiting her dream in pursuit of an out-of-body voyeur, did Rarity dare refuse? Would she fail some sort of a test if she didn’t take the switch? Would she fail if she used it? Rarity didn’t know what to do.

As if reading Rarity’s mind, which very well could be the case the fashionista realized, Luna said, “If it will make your job easier I will tell you that nothing you do here will cause any harm to Dreamy Slumber’s real body. Come now, Rarity. Do you really wish to see this perverted filly invading the dreams of other innocent ponies?”

Tentatively Rarity reached out and took the crop from Luna.

“There now. I will leave you to your chore. I wish you a pleasant dream.”

“Wait! You’re not staying?”

“Nay. I do not wish to influence your behavior. This is your dream, Rarity. There can be no right or wrong here. When Dreamy Slumber invaded it she placed herself under those rules. She is in your dream, and in your power. Indeed, I would ask you not hold back. This miscreant well deserves a just and righteous punishment for her sins and she will not learn the errors of her way if you spare the rod. That said, I can not help but warn you that it might take several sessions before the foalish mare learns the errors of her way. I would advise you to be on your guard against further intrusions on her part as she seeks vengeance. All you need remember, however, is this. In your dream, you are supreme. So long as you hold hard to the path you choose none can overpower you here.”

Rarity could not help but run her eyes over Dreamy’s stretched out and vulnerable body. A simmering wrath boiled inside her as she thought about Dreamy treating Rarity’s dream as some sort of peep show. And even worse, eating popcorn while doing so. She likely got crumbs all over everything. Was there such a thing as a punishment that was too harsh for such a creature? And what cared she if Dreamy wished vengeance afterwards. Rarity had faced down Nightmare Moon besides Equestria’s newest and most heroic Princess. If Dreamy wished to seek vengeance for her just punishment, than let her try. She would not find Rarity cowering in the shadows.

Luna smiled as Rarity’s expression firmed and she stroked the shaft of the riding crop while contemplating Dreamy’s smooth untouched and perfectly peach shaped plot. She vanished in a burst of shadowy sparkles leaving Rarity alone with the tightly bound figure of Dreamy Slumber.

Dreamy gave a sigh of relief and sagged in her chains. “Thank Tartarus that spoilsport is gone. I swear that stick is so far up her butt it’s a wonder it doesn’t come out her mouth.” She directed a contemptuous look at Rarity. “Well, what are you waiting for. Let me loose.”

Rarity bristled at the arrogant way the little peeping slut addressed her. “I will not,” she said in her haughtiest voice. She saw no reason to add that she had no idea how to accomplish that even if she had been so inclined.

“What? Are you joking? Oh. Wait. You’re one of those idiots who think just because a pony has wings and a horn they can do no wrong. Hello! Wake up and eat the roses. Luna is a spoiled arrogant punk who got schooled by her big sister and the Elements of Harmony so now she goes around bullying ponies who can’t fight back and won’t kiss her ass like you do. She’s the one who should be strung up here. Why her sister didn’t toss her into the deepest darkest dungeon and then throw away the key I’ll never know.”

“How dare you,” Rarity said in outrage. “The princess has more than paid her due. And she truly regrets her past. Unlike you. I must say you do not seem to regret your deplorable actions in the slightest.”

“Oh come on, you silly slut. I didn’t hurt anypony. You’re just all upset because I caught you enjoying your little rape fantasy. If anypony is at fault here, it’s Luna. If she hadn’t stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong you’d have never known that this was anything more than a strange dream. Admit it. Tell you what. Change places with me and then dream me up a nice big stud of a body and I’ll give you a dream that will keep you wet for a month.” The bound mare wiggled her eyebrows and smirked as she made the lewd suggestion.

Rarity fumed at Dreamy’s characterization of her romantic dream as something as crass as a rape fantasy. That was so obviously absurd it wasn’t even worthy of a retort. Besides. It was clear Dreamy was trying to manipulate her. But, she was not a stupid pony. Certainly at times she could become focused to a degree that only Twilight could exceed. And maybe she was a bit too in awe of ponies who could claim to be part of the nobility. But she had been through more life and death missions with her friends than the Royal Guard had experienced in the last century. And survived them. It was going to take a lot more than Dreamy Slumber’s less than subtle arguments to dissuade Rarity from giving her the punishment she deserved. In fact, it resolved her conflicting emotions on the subject.

“That’s right. This is my dream. I control this,” Rarity muttered to herself. Looking up at the faux Luna she smiled unpleasantly. “You’re helpless. Aren’t you? Unless you can convince me to change the dream and give you control that way. Because I’m the one with the power. Here. Now. I rule. I am supreme.” Rarity felt a thrill at the feeling of power that realization gave her.

“Now let’s not get carried away here,” Dreamy Slumber said nervously.

Rarity smiled at the nervous pony, and slapped the crop into a suddenly gloved hand. She looked down and saw that she was now wearing not only elbow length lavender gloves, but a black leather corset that nipped in her already narrow waist and thrust up her bosom. It was a mirror image of the one she’d once seen in a shop window in Canterlot during one of her fashion hunts. One never knew where one might find inspiration after all. That particular shop had contained nothing in the window that Rarity would ever make. That hadn’t taken away from the fact that the craft that had gone into the various ‘special’ garments had been first rate.

Rarity contemplated Dreamy Slumber, and could not help but think that while the criminal pony’s bondage was more severe than anything Rarity had ever imagined, her position was not unlike many Rarity had often fantasized herself being in. Her Lord Darkmoor dream was still undeveloped. She’d only just finished the book featuring him. But some of her other dreams had gotten very elaborate before the next book triggered a new round of inspiration.

It wasn’t infrequent for her imaginings to far exceed what was between the covers of her steamy romance novels. The authors tended to draw a veil over the more stimulating events. That often meant they skipped to the next morning with a very satisfied mare waking in a tangle of stained sheets absent her virginity, and with zero regret over it. Was it any wonder that Rarity felt compelled to fill in the blanks? And to extrapolate the likely consequences of being bedded by a dark, brooding, and forceful stallion. Not that the stallions in Rarity’s dreams were brutes that enjoyed harming mares for the mere sake of causing distress and pain. Rarity had no interest in being treated like that, or in any stallion that enjoyed such activity.

The stallions in Rarity’s dream had supreme confidence in themselves. They were always arrogant. But it was a justified arrogance. They would never take an insult lying down. If some snip of a mare dared to invade their most sacred and innermost thoughts they would not hesitate for a moment to make sure she never did such a thing again.

Rarity shivered in erotic anticipation as she vowed that once this current unpleasantness was taken care of she’d do her best to dream up a delightful fantasy centered around just such a situation. But for now...

“Where to start? Where to start?” Rarity mused as she extended the riding crop and set the tress at the end against Dreamy Slumber’s back, right between her shoulder blades. “You have such a lovely grey hide, my dear. It would be a shame to mar it.”

“Sure would. I’m all for that. Not marring sounds like the right way to go,” Dreamy said frantically twitching her shoulders in an effort to draw away from the cold touch of the crop against her hide.

Rarity twitched the crop and let the flat tress on the end smack against Dreamy’s left shoulder. “Call me Master. I mean...Mistress. Yes, Call me Mistress when you address me, slut!” A spring seemed to unwind in Rarity’s chest as she spoke those words, and her confidence soared.

‘Yowtch. You crazy bi---” Dreamy cut herself off and then started again, “For sure. Whatever you say.”

Rarity smacked the other shoulder, drawing another cry of surprise and distress from Dreamy.

“What was that for?” the bound pony protested. “I said I would do it.”

“And yet. You haven’t.” Rarity gave Dreamy a smack right in the small of her back, just above the cleft of her parted buttocks and under the arch of her pulled back tail. An area any mare who’d ever slipped and fallen knew to be very sensitive.

“Mistress, Mistress, Mistress. There I said it!” Dreamy howled.

Rarity delivered her hardest swat yet right in the middle of Dreamy’s fake cutie mark. “There I said it. Mistress!” Rarity said in a firm voice above Dreamy’s cry of pain as she ruthlessly delivered another swat to the opposite crescent moon cutie mark.

“Yes, Mistress! Now stop hitting me, Mistress!”

“Stop hitting you? When you can not even say ‘please’? Don’t be absurd. Speak to me with respect and maybe I’ll consider it.“ Rarity ran the tip of the crop from the back of Dreamy’s neck right down to the base of her tail. The bound pony’s skin twitched in reaction as her muscles tensed. “But, even if you learn to address me properly that is merely the first step in your education. For instance, calling my sophisticated imaginings something as plebeian as a rape fantasy. But, baby steps. We will start with the simplest forms, and go from there.”

“What? Then fuck you, slut. Why the fuck should I go along with your sick games if you’re just going to beat the crap out of me either way?”

“Because, dear heart. There is pain,” Rarity lightly taped one of Dreamy’s cutie marks causing the bound pony to flinch. “And then there is, Pain!” Rarity swatted the opposite cutie mark hard enough leave a welt.

Dreamy let out a choked off cry of pain as she fought against giving Rarity the satisfaction of hearing her howl again.

“Do we understand each other?” Rarity lightly tapped the welt she had just left.

“Yes, yes, Mistress. I understand, Mistress,” Dreamy said quickly.

“I’m not hearing a lot of sincerity here,” Rarity said, tapping her chin with the end of the crop. “Maybe you should try again,” she suggested, as she settled the crop’s tress on Dreamy’s inner thigh and began to slowly drag it upward towards her sex. Rarity felt a touch of surprise when she noticed that Dreamy’s labia were swollen and had parted enough to allow a hint of pink inner flesh to appear. She was further surprised by the sudden erotic rush that flooded her at the sight. She’d never dreamed, literally, that being on the other side of the power dynamic could be so stimulating.

“I’m sorry, mistress,” Dreamy said frantically. Her thighs clenched as she tried to pull her legs together while Rarity paused with the crop’s tress resting against Dreamy’s inner thigh just short of her sex.

“Are you really? I wonder?” Rarity mused. She lightly tapped Dreamy’s inner thighs a few inches below her drooling sex. “Let us discuss this hideous misapprehension that I was enjoying a rape fantasy. I was not. I was indulging in a ravishment fantasy. There is a vast difference between the two of them.”

While Rarity instructed Dreamy, The mare’s bondage shifted so that her upper body was parallel to the floor. Rarity moved slightly to the side so she could see Dreamy’s breasts as they dangled from her chest. They were out-sized orbs, nowhere near as attractive as Rarity’s own breasts which were in perfect proportion to her body. The dull grey mounds were topped with nipples so dark they were almost black and which were engorged with arousal. Rarity reached under Dreamy and fondled one of the hanging udders. “You’re quite the little cow, aren’t you,” she taunted the helpless mare, her fingers lightly tugging on the elongated nipple. “Do you have any cream for my tea, little cow?”

“Fu—. No mistress,” Dreamy said, hastily changing the first word that popped into her mouth.

“I’m sorry, mistress. But no. That would have been the proper response,” Rarity instructed her, squeezing the nipple she gripped fairly hard, before relinquishing it.

“I wonder if I were to have my Lord Darkmoor breed you, what quality of cream would you produce, girl. Would you like that pet? To feel my Lord’s member slipping deep into you and planting his seed?” Rarity asked as she slipped a hand over the curve of Dreamy’s ass and allowed her fingers to brush against the mare’s engorged labia.

A strangled sound came from Dreamy’s throat and Rarity felt her ass clench under her palm. “Oh, did you like that idea? Is that why you peek at the dreams of your betters? Because you cannot get a stallion of your own to see to your needs?”

“Yes, mistress,” Dreamy panted as she tried to grind her bottom back against Rarity’s exploring fingers. “Please, mistress. It’s been so long, mistress. Won’t you allow me some pleasure, mistress, please?”

“Much better. You deserve a reward for being such a good obedient and truthful mare,” Rarity said with the tone of one granting a huge favour. She stepped back and lifted the crop till the tress was sitting directly on top of Dreamy’s sex and rubbed it slowly back and forth till the mare’s labia parted and it slipped between her well lubricated folds.

Dreamy let out a strangled gasp while her body heaved and tossed between the chains.

Rarity kept the crop firmly in place all through Dreamy’s gyrations. Compared to threading a needle while sewing two garments simultaneously, plus using a pair of scissors to cut out a pattern from another bolt of cloth, it was child’s play. Well, maybe not. This was most certainly play of the adult variety. But still, it was easy enough. Rarity twirled the crop, causing the short tress to twist against Dreamy’s most delicate flesh. Dreamy’s vagina winked at her as the needy mare’s clitoris pulsed in and out from under its protective hood. Rarity gave the small nub the lightest of slaps with the crop.

Dreamy flung her head back, her eyes wide and blank, her mouth opened wide in a silent gasp as a trail of drool fell out of one corner of it. A moment later her entire body seemed to go into convulsions. Large amounts of feminine liquids jetted out of her clenching vagina and soaked the tress probing between her legs before running down the shaft of the crop. Rarity hastily released her grip on the crop while using her magic to continue stirring Dreamy’s honey pot as the mare’s juices dripped from the end of the handle.

Again and again the mare’s body twisted hard against her bonds as a series of orgasm’s shuddered through her body one after the other, till with an inarticulate scream the mare’s body exploded with one final powerful burst of pleasure. Literally. Dreamy vanished in a cloud of dream stuff that dissipated into the air leaving nothing but the chains which had bound her behind.

“Well, really.” Rarity fumed in dissatisfaction. “She didn’t even say, thank you, mistress.” Despite her words and pout, Rarity was feeling rather proud of herself for reducing the little peeping Mary to a quivering mass of mare flesh so quickly. In fact, she was feeling quite stimulated.

A few moments later as Lord Darkmoor roughly secured her wrists and ankles with the bindings that had held Dreamy, Rarity could not help but wonder if that mare would be foolish enough to attempt a reprisal.

“Are you ready to learn to properly fear your lord and master, Lady Rarity?” Lord Darkmoor asked.

“My lord. You can not imagine how ready I am,” Rarity purred as she felt the wide flat head of Darkmoor’s mighty member pressing between her drooling cleft.

Two weeks ago:

Rarity fluttered around Applejack for all the world like Fluttershy releasing a former patient back out into the wild. “Really, dear. I do wish you had allowed me to run you up a proper power suit,” she said as she tried to tug Applejack’s flannel halter top a bit tighter so it showed less cleavage. This only resulted in displaying a greater expanse of Applejack’s tanned and toned midriff.

Swatting at Rarity’s hand, Applejack growled, “And I keep telling you I don’t want to wear a con-sarned costume, Rarity. Ain’t nothing wrong with what I got on.”

That statement was so obvious untrue that Rarity wanted to scream in frustration. No, she wanted to bend Applejack over one of the train station benches and tan her firm ass until she acknowledged that Rarity was correct and she was wrong.

Rarity stifled the thought, with difficulty.

Luna had been correct when she told Rarity that Dreamy Slumber might come seeking revenge. In fact she had underestimated the little trollop’s obstinacy. It seemed that at least once a week the silly pony would sneak into Rarity’s dreams and try to take control of them, and of Rarity in the process. It always ended the same way; Dreamy with a welted ass begging her mistress to allow her to cum. Rarity had to admit that it made for some very stimulating dreams. But lately she had noticed that her dream experiences were giving her inclinations that kept popping up even when she was awake. The urge to bend Applejack over a fence rail and, in her friend’s can't, tan her gosh darn hide, was a case in point. It was likely just a well that it had been over two weeks since the last time Dreamy had show up.

Rarity had always quarreled with Applejack. Even though they were dear friends their outlook on life and what was important was so different that they constantly struck sparks off of each other. But where Rarity had before simply walked off in a huff when things got too heated she now found herself thinking of all the delightful means she could use to modify Applejack’s attitude.

It had proven to be a short step from such idle thoughts, to wondering if Applejack might be inclined in that direction. Strangely, while the thought of training Applejack was intriguing, Rarity also found the idea that Applejack might be the more strong-willed of the two of them equally exciting. As much fun as she’d had disciplining Dreamy, there was a certain thrill missing that had been present the first couple of times Dreamy had returned. There was no risk to add some spice to the encounters. Rarity knew how things would end up. Such would not be the case in an encounter between her and Applejack she knew.

It would be thrilling not knowing she was assured of victory. The knowledge that she might end up helpless and in Applejack’s power would add that certain touch of danger that was lacking with Dreamy Slumbers.

Curious as to whether there was any hope, Rarity had found herself paying close attention to Applejack’s reactions when she discussed steamy scenes from her latest book during their weekly girls’ night out with their friends. Of course, Twilight and the rest were there as well, and it was fun to watch their various reactions. But it was Applejack Rarity found herself focusing on more and more.

She soon found herself watching Applejack out of the corner of her eye whenever they were together. Admiring her strong body, her self-confidence. In so many ways Applejack resembled the fictional stallions Rarity found so attractive, at least in personality if not in gender. Socially maladroit, yes, but the sort of pony who would stand by a friend, or a love, at the gates of Tartarus. But not a doormat. Somepony who would stand up to her and force her to prove her worth.

A month ago, Rarity had talked Applejack into accompanying her to a boutique in Canterlot that specialized in fetish apparel. And while there she’d somehow found herself, through a combination of personal curiosity and annoyance at Applejack’s stick-in-the-mud attitude, getting her nipples pierced. The experience had been frightening, and erotic. But what had really excited her was the way Applejack’s eyes had dilated while she’d watched the procedure. That and the flushed expression on her face had indicated a certain level of arousal despite her expressing disdain for the concept. And even though Applejack had turned just a little green half-way through she hadn’t once looked away while she’d held Rarity’s hand throughout the procedure. Rarity had to admit, if only to herself, that she wouldn’t have had the courage if not for the support of her friend.

Trying not to think about the small studs that were currently inserted in her piercings, and how they seemed to catch slightly on her top every time she shifted, Rarity frowned at Applejack and said. “How can you possibly refer to good clothing suitable to a given venue as a costume, Applejack dear?”

“Ain’t a costume something you wear to pretend to be something you ain’t? Well, there you have it.”

“Don’t be silly, darling. Good clothes bring out what is already there. They are simply a visual shorthand that informs the pony you are dealing with how you view them, and the situation you are in. They tell him, or her, that you are here to party, or you are here do serious business.”

“So what do my duds tell them?” Applejack asked in a challenging tone.

What Rarity did not say was, Yehaw, slap my ass and bend me over your desk, though she wanted to. “I’m fresh from the fields and have no idea what I’m doing here,” is what she did say.

Applejack, rather than being offended, let out a laugh. “Fresh from the fields? Land sakes, Rarity. Last thing I am after a day in the fields is fresh. Big Mac and me like to cause a polecat to keel over if it got downwind of us. But if some ignorant city slicker wants to think I don’t know what I’m all a doing cause I dress comfortable, that’s jest fine by me.”

“So you want him to think you're some ignorant farm girl? Isn’t that a tiny bit dishonest?”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “I’m dressing like I always do. If some varmint can’t see the truth, ain’t no never mind to me. Besides, I don’t get why you're fussing so. Train leaves in two minutes. Even for you that ain’t enough time to do my up an outfit.”

“Well, as to that,” Rarity said, fiddling with her fingers and not meeting Applejack’s eyes.

“Rarity! I told you I could make it in time,” Came a cry from the end of the train platform. Spike staggered toward them nearly buried under a pile of boxes.

“As it happens,” Rarity said in a voice that strained to sound upbeat. “I may have taken the liberty of running up a few outfits after I heard you were planning on making an extended visit to Canterlot.”

“Dang it, Rarity. I thought you promised you’d stop taking advantage of Spike,” Applejack said with genuine anger in her voice.

“That’s what you’re angry about?” Rarity asked in surprise. “I thought you’d object to my running up some outfits for you without permission.”

“That’s you, being you. It ain’t like you’re forcing me to wear them or nothing. But you promised. We talked about this. Spike ain’t a baby no more. He’s darn near as tall as you now. Twilight says she thinks he’s going through puberty. If dragons have puberty. You taking advantage of impressionable young colts is bad enough. It’s a whole other kettle of fish to be leading a young stallion around by their balls. You know Spike’s had feeling for you since the first day he saw you. And you know you don’t feel that way about him.”

“Yes, yes,” Rarity said, looking over at where Spike was loading Applejack’s new wardrobe into the baggage car. “I do mean to deal with the matter. But you have to understand. I need to pick the right moment. The poor dear will be devastated. I kept hoping his attention would wander toward a more suitable inamorata.”

“And save you the guilt of breaking the poor guy’s heart? It’s your own darn fault for not putting your hoof down way back when. It’s even worse than that. It ain’t like you haven’t encouraged his crush. Admit it. You’ve led the poor dragon on.”

The warning whistle blew on the train and the conductor called out the traditional. “All Aboard!”

“Dang,” Applejack swore. “I got to get on board and make sure Big Mac don’t sneak out the other side of the car.” She glared at Rarity. “Spike’s not just Twilight’s assistant. He’s as good as her little brother, and he’s our friend. What you’ve been doing just plum ain’t right. You and I are going to have words about this when I get back from Canterlot, Rarity.”

With that Applejack got on the train, leaving Rarity feeling more than a little weak-kneed. How had she ever imagined that she’d ever be able to turn Applejack into a real life version of Dreamy Slumber? On the other hoof... Princess Luna had gift-wrapped Dreamy Slumber for Rarity. What fun if she could break a pony as strong willed as Applejack to harness! Rarity quickly dismissed that errant thought. All in all it was likely a good thing Applejack lacked the sophistication necessary to enjoy such play. The simple fact was that if Rarity were realistic about how things would work out in such a scenario, it would very likely be Rarity who would need to do most of her work standing up for a week, not Applejack.

The most galling thing about the whole situation was that Applejack was absolutely, one-hundred-percent-correct. Rarity had been abusing Spike’s crush. Well. No more. First opportunity that presented itself, she would come right out and tell Spike that there was no hope for anything other than friendship between them.

Today:

“What. A. WEEK!” Rarity declaimed with great fervor as she fell back on her favorite fainting couch. She threw an arm across her face and languished decoratively. This was supposed to have been the week when she finally bit the bullet and gently let Spike down. She stocked her larder with Spike’s favorite gems. Arranged with Pinkie Pie for a feel better party. Taken several books from the library the week before devoted to the theme of moving on to the next romance after a bad break up.

While they might have been fictional, the authors had great insight into how to discover your true love.

And had any of it done the least little bit of good? No. And why not? Because Rarity had not seen hide or scale of Spike for the entire week. And it was all Applejack’s fault. She was the one who’d asked Spike to keep an eye on Apple Bloom while she and Big Mac were out of town. And as usual, dear Spikey Wikey had gone overboard. He had practically taken up residence in The cutie mark crusader’s clubhouse.

How could she break up with him and send him out into the world to discover his one true love when he was spending all his free time with Apple Bloom and the other two fillies?

The sound of the door to her boutique slamming open followed by the thundering sound of little hooves on the floor shot Rarity upright as her little sister rushed into the room.

“RarityRainbowDashsaysevilmalemirrortwinsareinvadingEquestriaandwegottowarnTwilight, Nowwwwww!” Sweetie Belle babbled, ending with a big whooping gasp.

“Sweetie Belle. What have I told you about using your inside voice? You are turning into a young lady and you can no longer behave like a little hooligan,” Rarity said sternly.

Sweetie Belle looked at her big sister in disbelief. “But, Rainbow Dash said that---”

“Yes, yes. I heard you,” Rarity said indulgently. She walked around Sweetie Belle while running an eye over her disheveled little sister. “Evil male mirror twins are invading Equestria. Strangely enough, that happens to be similar to the plot in the most recent Daring Do book.”

Rarity rolled her eyes at the memory of Rainbow Dash spending hours enumerating the convoluted plot of the latest Daring Do book. Hours Rarity would never get back. Really, how could Rainbow Dash enjoy those stories? Daring Do ended up in dire peril at least as often as the book had chapters, and yet not once did any of those perils involve heaving bosoms or threats to her virtue. Really, the villains in those books were the most unimaginative louts possible.

Rarity was brought out of that memory as she took in her sister’s appearance. She grimaced as she ran her hand through Sweetie Belle’s mane. “What on earth have you been up to? It looks like somepony has been chewing on your lovely mane. And I just took you to the beauty shop a few days ago. And you’ve gone and burned a section as well. I told you to be careful around your campfire. Really Sweetie Belle. You are getting much too old to be roughhousing with your friends like a tomcolt.”

Sweetie Belle blushed a deep red and used her fingers to tuck the charred tips of her mane out of sight behind the unburned sections. Despite that she didn’t relent in trying to warn her sister. “But it’s true. Rainbow Dash said Fluttershy has been kidnapped by her evil twin and taken through the mirror. And Princess Luna must be turning evil, because she wouldn’t let Dash save Fluttershy.”

Rarity paused in her inspection. Rainbow Dash had a very juvenile sense of humor, and telling Sweetie Belle and her friends such a tall tale was a good example of that. But including Fluttershy as part of the joke? That was out of character for Rainbow Dash. At the very least it was a marked departure from the pegasus’ usual policy of not pranking their shy friend, or involving her in practical jokes. Still, the story was so outlandish, and clearly so inspired by the most recent Daring Do book that Rarity had difficulty believing it was true.

“I’m sure it’s just a joke, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity said. When Sweetie Belle started to protest, she continued. “But, I will take the message to Twilight for you.”

Sweetie Belle sagged with relief. “Thank you, Rarity.”

“But why didn’t Spike tell her?”

“The Castle is all locked up. Spike couldn’t open the door. He said as one of the Elements you should have unrestricted access.”

Rarity felt a warm glow at those words. “Well, I don’t know if that is true or not, but I’ll certainly try. But you girls and Spike must stay outside if I do get in. Twilight was very explicit when we talked a few days ago. She was looking forward to conducting a delicate experiment in total privacy with no interruptions. I just hope for Rainbow Dash’s sake that this is not a prank.”

Rarity smirked slightly at the thought of turning Rainbow Dash’s posterior as multi-hued as her mane and tail. If ever one of her friends would benefit from a little control and judicious chastisement, it was the impulsive Pegasus.

“That’s okay. We’re going down to the train station to meet Applejack and Big Mac with Apple Bloom. We’ll tell Applejack all about the invasion as well.”

Rarity blanched, and suddenly it was her own plot that developed blemishes in her imagination. “Applejack is arriving today?” she asked with a touch of panic. She quickly got herself under control and told Sweetie Belle sternly. “You will not tell her this ridiculous story. You may tell her that there could be a problem and to come up to the castle as soon as she arrives.”

Sweetie Belle didn’t look happy with this order, and Rarity didn’t hold out much hope that her order would be obeyed. Even if Sweetie Belle did comply, it was unlikely her friends would. She wished it was Spike who was carrying the news. He, she knew, could be relied on. He’d do anything Rarity asked. She grimaced as she realized how easily she’d fallen back into old habits. She had promised she’d would stop using her natural charms to wrap Spike around her hoof, and she would keep that promise.

Rarity saw Sweetie Belle on the way to the train station, and headed for the castle, wondering if Spike was correct and she really did have unrestricted access. How wonderful if she did. It would be proof of the high esteem ‘Princess’ Twilight held her in.

She just hoped whatever Twilight was working on wasn’t prone to exploding if the experimenter was disturbed.

Author's Notes:

This is the last of the introductory chapters. Next chapter we return to Dusk and Pinkie Pie.

But I haven't forgotten Dash and Gilda, or Fluttershy and Cat for that matter. Any votes on how hot the water Dash and Gilda are going to find themselves in. Keeping in mind that I want to keep the comedy tag.

On another note, I'd like to give a big thanks to Schorl Tourmaline Even though her stories are much darker than what I'm trying for, there is no question that reading them while I was working on the Caridoon project influenced me a greatly.