Fit To Be Tied
by ashi
Chapters
1. A History Lesson
An elegantly-shod hoof brushed the gentle point of Princess Celestia's chin as she felt her muzzle crease into a frown. “Oh, it must've been around a hundred years ago or so now,” she finally said after a moment's pause, her frown quickly melting into a more wistful expression as she recalled the events of that day. That's the problem with getting older: just as an attic gets cluttered with all of your forgotten mementoes, so, too, does your mind. “Everypony who was everypony, and everypony who wanted to be somepony, was there that day as Light Bulb astounded us all with his new invention.”
“Photography?” said Twilight Sparkle, recognising the name from one of the newly-delivered history books. The Castle of Friendship's own library was currently being restocked with duplicates from the Royal Canterlot Library, and Princess Celestia herself had stopped by to check on progress. As well as to spend some time with her partner, something they did all too infrequently these days. Very quickly, the subject had turned to some of the events within those books and Celestia's own role in them. When Twilight had gone to make a pot of tea using the leaves from the Crystal Empire given to her as a house-warming gift by Princess Cadance, it was made abundantly clear to both of them that very little shelving would get done today.
“Indeed,” replied Celestia with a minute nod of her head. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “There were all the usual suspects, of course: the arty monochrome shot of a pensive-looking elderly relative, a bare tree sat atop a hill and framed by a broken fence, and every variety of waterscape, landscape and skyscape that you could imagine.” She suddenly broke into a giggle.
“What's so funny?”
“He used to complain all the time about errant pegasi ruining his shots by flying into his field of view at the critical moment,” Celestia said, her pale cheeks turning rosy as the memory of Light Bulb's annoyance caused her another laughing fit.
Twilight took a quick sip of her mint tea, savouring the cool, fresh taste, before sitting the mug back down in front of her. “While I appreciate the history lesson, it still doesn't explain-”
“-I know, Twilight, I know. That's the thing with memories, though: it's like peeling an onion. So many layers.” Princess Celestia looked distracted for a moment. Ever since she had been a filly, Twilight Sparkle had always been very eager. Waiting for things to happen was not her strongest suit. She favoured the younger alicorn with a radiant smile. “We take photography for granted these days, so much so that we don't always notice when somepony has a really good eye for it. Back then, it was all very unpretentious. A way of capturing a moment in time.”
“There are spells for that,” said Twilight teasingly, hoping to get a rise out of her one-time mentor and now lover.
“Yes, well,” Celestia said with a roll of her glittering purple eyes, “a way of capturing a moment in time without wrecking the balance of universal harmony, then. Where was I?”
“Light Bulb. Pegasi. Pretension.” Twilight made sure to keep her face neutral; conversations, especially ones about history, tended to follow a similar narrative with Princess Celestia. Her mind was not neatly-ordered and that often meant putting up with random jumps in the flow of events. A photographic memory, as it were, only somepony had jumbled up all of the slides. She idly wondered if she would be similarly scatterbrained should she be fortunate enough to reach Celestia's age. That's a lot of alliteration, maybe I should rephrase that?
“Twilight?”
“Huh?”
“You were zoning-out. Again,” Celestia said, offering her a mildly-reproving grin.
“Sorry,” she said, looking sheepish. “What were you saying?”
“I was saying that, within the exhibit, there was a section dedicated to, ah, shall we say more risque topics of pony society?” said Celestia, her eyes glazing over as she pictured the looks on the snooty, upper-crust Canterlotians' faces as they were simultaneously appalled, intrigued and aroused by the final set of images mischievously worked in by the curator. “To the surprise, or embarrassment, of our guests, there was a display featuring war, death, poverty and, of course, erotica.”
“Ah,” Twilight said, feeling as though they were finally getting to the crux of matters.
“Yes.” Her own reaction had been one of muted interest; while the medium itself was a fascinating one, capturing a snapshot of life in a way that even the most gifted of painters couldn't hope to match, her long life afforded her a degree of detachment from the subjects depicted. Celestia had, quite literally, seen it all and had even done most of it. But then, one particular photograph snagged her attention and had left her hopelessly, helplessly hooked:
At first glance, one's eye was drawn to nothing more than another solitary, sad-looking tree in the middle of nowhere; I was just about to move on when something else demanded that I take a second look, and I'm very glad that I did because it revealed so much more than I had ever been expecting. The tree was old and gnarled, its limbs growing chaotically in whatever direction they damn well pleased, an obvious relic of Equestria's untamed past before ponies had learned to control their environment through the use of magic.
One of its thicker branches arced some ten feet or so over an idle river; although the photographer had taken great pains to maintain the illusion that the subject was bound by nothing more than the worming tendrils of creeping ivy, vines and the like, they were actually held in place by a series of intricately-knotted ropes that twisted this way and that. The subject in question is a startlingly beautiful blue unicorn. Alive and well, of course, but so still, so at peace with her environment, that you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. The look on her face, of almost ethereal tranquillity, suggests that she's more at home here than anywhere else in the world.
Awestruck, all I could do was look; I'd seen stunning, sunflower-filled meadows, calm oceans, and cloudless skies, but nothing suggested peace and contentment to me quite like this image does. Also, from a technical standpoint, I'm agog at just how much time and effort must've gone into its construction. I tried to commit every detail to memory, not wanting to forget a single iota of it: the surreal mists cast by the foamy river dashing up against the rocks, the dagger sharpness of every blade of grass curving slightly as a gust of wind tickles them, the wrought patterns and knotholes in the tree's bark. And, perhaps the most striking detail, the pony herself.
Subject: unknown.
How disappointing.
The depressingly formal blurb accompanying the picture offered me nothing to go on; whoever this alluring creature was, I would never know her name, never know anything about her beyond this wonderful scene.
Trying to forget my momentary annoyance, I return my attention to the image itself; the clarity of detail present extends to far more than just the tree and the grass: the elaborate latticework of the criss-crossed ropes, their perfectly executed knots taking my breath away, were rendered with exquisite crispness. I felt as though I could reach out and feel the roughness of the bindings with my hoof. Individual strands of the unicorn's undulating golden mane can be discerned, falling about her body in a manner which served to accentuate what was on display rather than concealing it from view.
My eyes were soon drawn to the tiny, almost invisible depressions in her supple flesh where the ropes clung to it; I was surprised by this, thinking that the knots must've been so tight that there was a danger of circulation being cut off, but no. That wasn't the case at all. The unicorn was embraced snugly, tenderly, as if she were in the grasp of a kind and considerate lover.
Patience.
This is my key-learning from this picture.
So many ingredients had to be perfectly balanced for this image to have come about: finding the correct model, one who was willing to endure the no doubt arduous binding procedure; finding the correct location, finding a tree sturdy enough, waiting for the weather to be just right. It boggled the mind when one thought too much about it. Even once the harness adjoining her to the tree had been completed, there still would've been the actual matter of taking the shot, which would've required the right levels of sunlight, a minimum of wind so that the resulting motion blur wouldn't decrease the sharpness of the image.
The sun was hanging just right in the sky. The blushing light hit at the perfect angle to give the unicorn's beryl surface the slightest hint of shadow in order to accentuate her sinewy muscle, shapely form, and the exquisite flexure of her body.
Even with so much on display – the ropes did not conceal her anatomy, merely emphasised it – at no point did the picture feel lewd or degrading to its subject. Rather, it was an expression of just how sublime she was.
Returning to the present with a shake of her head, Celestia used her magic to levitate her own mug to her lips and took a swig of her now-cold tea. “In a way, I suppose I'm glad that I never met the model. There was no way that she could ever live up to the expectations that I build up inside my head surrounding her, and it's nice to be left with a little bit of mystery when you get to be as old as I am.” Intellectually, she could guess at how the whole thing was arranged, but the uncertainty only added to the allure. Did the artist and model have a prior or future relationship? Was it simply a lucky meeting of minds? An invigorating coolness pervaded her chest and she loosed a sigh. “If you're wondering, no, I never saw anything else featuring this particular model. Believe me, I made sure to go to every damn exhibit just in case.”
“Almost as if the whole thing had been constructed solely for you?” said Twilight, raising her eyebrow as she let the implications of that suggestion sink in, her own tea forgotten as she processed what it was her lover was telling her. “I mean, if you're still so obsessed with her image all these years later, it must've been very powerful.”
Celestia narrowed her eyes, a snort of protest escaping her nostrils as she did so. “I don't know if obsessed is quite the right word.”
“Captivated, then,” Twilight said, correcting herself with a dramatic wave of her forelegs.
“Anyway, I learned much, much later that the practice, known as The Beauty of Tight Binding, had originated in the lands to the far east of Equestria,” said Celestia, faintly amused by Twilight's display. “Our own parochial view of bondage is that it's about power, about subjugating another to our whims, but their version is about the sheer artistry of the knot-weaving, its effects on the body, as well as the intimacy it can create between two ponies.”
“And,” said Twilight, an imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “it's your wish to do this to me, right?”
“No,” replied Celestia, her right ear twitching slightly. “I wish to do it with you, Twilight. Even if you are the one who is to be bound, you are still an integral part of the process. The most integral part of the process, I should say.”
Twilight blew out her breath slowly, her mind awash with memories; in her young life, she'd only ever been bound by monsters seeking to do her, her friends, and Equestria, harm. To her way of thinking, she could not see anything beautiful or sensual about tying somepony up. But she loved Celestia. She said that she would do anything for her. More pertinently, she had just trusted her with something incredibly intimate, something that she had been holding onto a long time, unable to share with anypony else. “Okay,” Twilight finally said.
Celestia looked at her for a long moment. “Twilight, don't agree just because it's me who is asking. It isn't a deal-breaker, as I believe you say, by any means. I am perfectly content with our relationship as it is.”
“Mere contentedness is not enough.”
“I didn't mean-”
“-I know,” Twilight said quickly, holding up her hoof. “I just mean … you don't know until you try, right? Maybe I'll like it, maybe I won't, but I'm not going to say no just because I don't quite understand. I want to understand this, you, okay?”
“Okay.” Celestia inclined her head slightly. No point in arguing with her when she's already made her mind up. Especially if she's agreed to at least give it a go.
Leaning forward, Twilight said, “It's obviously something that is significant to you, otherwise you wouldn't have gone to all that trouble explaining it to me, and that makes it meaningful to me, too. I'm so happy that you felt that you could share something like this with me, and like I said, it would be quite rude of me to dismiss something you see as important just because of my uncertainties.” A curious fluttering sensation tickled her belly, a combination of nervousness but also excitement. Nervouscitement, as Pinkie Pie might've said. It was not what she had been expecting when Celestia had dropped by, but there were few things that she 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 going. “So. How shall we start?”
“If you don't have anything else on, how about tonight after I lower the sun?” Celestia said, not even bothering to mask her eagerness with her usual formal decorum. “My sister will see to it that nopony disturbs us, short of an Equestria-ending disaster ensuing, that is.”
“Until tonight, then,” Twilight replied, arching her head rather stiffly before collecting the empty mugs and returning them to the kitchen. Once Celestia had departed in a golden light, she finally let herself fully feel her trepidation. “Oh, Goddesses, what have I let myself in for?” Butterflies danced a merry dance in her stomach.
2. Concerning Castles
“When you come from quite a large family,” Celestia said, a lantern held in her magical grip a few feet from her face, while leading Twilight Sparkle down an ornate marble staircase, “to say nothing of having hundreds of guards, servants, visiting diplomats and just plain old visitors around at any one time, it's important to set aside areas that everypony understands to be sacrosanct.”
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their echoing hoofsteps in the stairwell. “Even when your home is as large as this?” asked Twilight Sparkle, mouth agape, as she wondered how many times over the Castle of Friendship could fit into this one. “It can't have been that difficult to find places where nopony could find you.”
“You'd be surprised,” replied Celestia, a smile etched onto her face as she recalled the labyrinthine text that comprised her and Luna's rulebook for games of Hide and Seek. When you had a massive castle to play in, when you could teleport, it was important to establish what was and what wasn't allowed. And of course, how you gently twist the rules to your own advantage. They descended deeper. “Short of something that threatens the safety of Equestria, it is understood by all that they are not welcome in these most … intimate areas. These are rooms where Luna and I can be ourselves, where we can drop the royal façades for a moment. Rooms where we can truly rest.”
Twilight was about to say something, but thought better of voicing the petulant notion that had just crossed her mind.
“Speak.”
“It's not-”
“-Speak,” Celestia said, repeating the command more firmly. “If am to be myself, you must feel free to be who you are, too. This is not a judgement upon you, nor is it a test to be overcome.”
With a sigh, Twilight said, “I just wish you'd told me before that this is how you felt. That you couldn't be yourself around me.”
To her surprise, Celestia laughed at that. She paused just long enough for the younger alicorn to draw level, then she kissed her on the cheek. “Twilight, I am more myself around you than anypony in thousands of years. Apart from my dear sister, of course.”
“And Luna has a wing similar to this on the other side of the castle?” Twilight asked, feeling her muzzle break out in a blush at the gesture. Almost a year later, and it was still weird to think of Princess Celestia, one of the two Rulers of Equestria, as her marefriend. As a filly, she had been a regular visitor to the royal palace; either to receive special instruction from Celestia herself, or simply to explore the expansive grounds as many students of the School for Gifted Unicorns were wont to do during their free time. Naively, she'd thought that she'd explored just about every possible nook and cranny of the castle.
This staircase, however – hidden behind what she'd always assumed to be a solid piece of stone in the throne room – had come as a complete shock to her. Only Celestia's two most trusted lieutenants had been in the room at the time she'd cast a spell on the bulwark to remove it, indicating to her that it was not common knowledge amongst the guards that these catacombs even existed. Those two lieutenants would be responsible for coming and finding the two princesses should an Equestria-ending emergency occur.
“Yes, she does,” Celestia eventually said, cocking her head to the right for a moment and listening. It wasn't that she was expecting to hear anything so far down, nor had she lost her way, but one didn't get to live this long without at least allowing for the possibility of somepony or something having infiltrated even this supposedly private sanctum. “She spent quite a bit of time down there following her return from the moon. Mostly, I imagine, catching up with the millennium of history that she'd missed out on.”
“Mostly?”
“Well, what would you want to do if you'd been imprisoned for a thousand years?” Celestia asked with a mischievous grin. “I know I'd certainly want to blow off as much steam as possible.”
“Oh,” replied Twilight, then as the realisation set in, she suppressed a shudder. “Ugh, I wish you hadn't told me that.”
Celestia stifled a giggle with her hoof; it still amazed her to think that, despite all of her power and knowledge, Twilight could be such an innocent. It was that very trait that had first attracted her to the younger alicorn. Twilight's bright nature had shone a light on some very dark times. Plus, she thought, her eyes roving over a lavender body made up of delicate curves, she's sexy as heck, too. It was one of life's fine ironies that somepony so smart, so beautiful, so talented, would struggle all their lives with such monumental self-esteem issues.
“How often do you come down here?” asked Twilight as they reached the landing. She craned her neck to look back where they had come from, and the stairs seemed to go on forever, disappearing into a dark mire high above. “And have you considered getting an elevator?”
“At least once a week for a few hours,” Celestia replied, pushing the lantern a little way down the corridor. Numerous doors branched off the central hallway, and no trace of light spilled out of any of them. Twilight couldn't help wondering what they contained, but she was sure that she would find out in time. “That can quickly double, or even triple, during conference season, though.” She looked at the young alicorn wryly. “I know what you're thinking: what an unbelievable amount of effort to go through just to get some peace and quiet. Why not just stick a barrier spell around your bedroom and have done with it?”
“Well, yes,” Twilight said sheepishly.
“The physical distance is just as important to me as the mental distance, I find,” Celestia said with a shrug. “Knowing that my problems are over twenty floors away gives me an enormous feeling of psychological security that I just wouldn't get if they were only on the other side of a locked door, if that makes sense?”
“It does,” replied Twilight, idly wondering how much it would cost to install similar chambers in the Castle of Friendship. They probably wouldn't keep Pinkie Pie out, she knew that for certain. “And … did you say twenty floors?” The colour drained from her face at this revelation. It hadn't seemed that much when they were walking. Had Celestia used some passive form of the magic that she'd once used to reverse Sombra's staircase so that the journey seemed shorter? Or had she just been really, really, distracted thinking about what was to come?
“Don't worry,” said Celestia, making her way down the corridor. “Now that you have the distance worked out from here to the throne room, we'll be able to teleport back there once we're done.”
With her panic attack about a possible long climb averted, Twilight's attention was drawn back to the brick corridor that they found themselves I. Now that she was looking more closely, she could see the tell-tale rusting hinges, the shallow impressions in the stone floor, even a faint odour of hopelessness that time and cleaning fluids couldn't quite erase. “This used to be the dungeon, didn't it?”
“Once upon a time,” said Celestia slowly, unwanted memories coming back to her. A scowl formed on her muzzle; it was a question she had been expecting, but that didn't mean that she couldn't be annoyed about having to answer it. Lanterns sprung to life as they walked by, bestowing upon the gloomy passage a welcoming orange glow. Celestia discarded the one she had been carrying all this time. “Fortunately, they have gone unused as such since the last great war, and hopefully it will remain that way. The thought of ever having to imprison somepony again ...” She shivered inwardly.
“What about me?” Twilight asked with a light smile, looking to cheer things up a bit.
“That's different,” Celestia said with a grateful smile; her sense of relief that, once again, Twilight was able shine a light in the darkness and maintain a sense of humour about things was palpable. They came to a halt at the threshold of a particular room. In the darkness, Twilight couldn't figure out what made it any different from all of the others they had passed. A pensive cast darkened Celestia's muzzle. “We're here. Twilight, you're still free to say no.”
Maybe the experience would do nothing for her; for all that Celestia was looking forward to what was come, and as much as that enthusiasm had rubbed off on Twilight, it was entirely possible that she just wouldn't get anything out of it from a carnal standpoint. But she had to try, right? Being open-minded, casting cynicism and scepticism to the dark reaches of her mind, was what she was all about.
For her part, Celestia could only watch and enjoy the play of emotions across Twilight's face; running the gamut from sceptical, to hesitant, to earnest was a real treat. Every feeling was etched so artfully across her muzzle, making her almost as easy to read as one of the books that she loved so much.
Finally, Twilight put one hoof across the threshold. “I'm ready.”
3. Of Pony Bonding
Twilight's best guess was that the small room they had just entered had probably gone unused for some considerable time, but that, upon her assent to try this, Princess Celestia had quickly had it furnished with everything necessary for the night ahead. The exposed brickwork and wooden beams should have given it claustrophobic feel, but rather, she found it cosy and homely. It was rather like an old attic. The amber light from the lamps affixed to the wall lent it an almost intimate air.
The only furnishing in the room was an old wooden table; sitting atop it was a closed burlap sack, while a number of wooden tubes about as long as her legs and half as thick lay criss-crossed across its surface.
Only the rusting hinges and faint scratch marks in the mortar hinted at the rather drab past of this room.
She soon found her mulberry eyes being drawn to something glittery and silver in the ceiling; no, not the ceiling, but attached to the beams that intersected the roof. Upon closer inspection, she saw that they were, in fact, a row of eye-bolts. Easy to guess what they were going to be used for, and Twilight couldn't help but shiver nervously as she pictured herself suspended and helpless. “Presumably, you've tested their load-bearing capacity?”
Celestia nodded slightly. “Each bolt is capable of holding up to two hundred kilograms.”
“Better safe than sorry, huh?” Twilight said with mock-hurt as she counted the number of eye-bolts.
Stifling a giggle with her hoof, Celestia placed a kiss on the tip of her lover's horn and smiled sweetly at her. “I was more concerned with the age of the beams than I was about your weight, dear. They are rather old after all, and I thought it would be best to distribute the load over as wide an area as possible.” She'd, of course, tested the beams' structural integrity with a series of heavy objects earlier in the day, but it never hurt to be careful. Especially where one's partner was concerned.
Mollified, Twilight returned the gesture, though she had to raise herself up on her hindlegs in order to reach Celestia's. “Am I ever gonna be the same height as you? I mean, you've towered over me ever since I was a filly!”
Wrapping her forelegs around Twilight's withers, Celestia grinned at her. “In time. It takes a few years for the alicorn magic to fully assert itself.”
There was a catch in her throat as she spoke her next words; in truth, she was content to stay in Celestia's embrace for the rest of the night and beyond, but that was not why they were here. “So. How do we begin this?”
Instead of replying with words, Celestia broke their hug and offered her foreleg to Twilight, which the younger alicorn gratefully accepted; she 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-purple 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 far 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 she 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 her. 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 and prickling her scalp. It wasn't like she 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 say anything, but Twilight sensed that her lover would be broken-hearted at ending this little journey 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 Celestia 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 Celestia wasn't herself 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, she 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.” Celestia 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 her lover with an abashed look. “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, she 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.