Author's Notes:

—Takes place shortly after CRISIS: Equestria - Chapter 40—

Blackburn/Lockwood artwork.
NSFW art on derpibooru, 2405983.

The relevant line is from CRISIS: Equestria - Bonus Chapters, Chapter 40.9

Blackburn very carefully had things arranged so that she wouldn’t be served any alcohol, but that the guests would think she was. Simply placing non-alcoholic drinks into alcoholic bottles that were marked specifically for her consumption was easy enough to do.

Queen Blackburn pondered how this evening had come to be, still perturbed and perplexed by how the entire past several days had gone thus far.

In the span of less than a week, Blackburn’s emotional state and her life had gone through so many drastic ups and downs that she was convinced she would go insane from the stress and turmoil, and that nopony would blame her. She’d still had no real time to mourn the deaths of Gadget and Crossfire, but knew she wouldn’t be able to do so properly until she was able to have a good, long moment of privacy. There were still too many things happening, too many pieces moving, and too much to deal with and address; her loyal companions would understand.

Immediately after Twilight Sparkle and her friends had departed for home at long last, Blackburn decided to take advantage of the situation she’d been placed in. That is, she took advantage of being in Zeb’ra’den, capital of the zebra kingdom and home to King Zaratite. His nephew, Sir Zircon, who’d also been involved in the events surrounding Lord Silvertongue’s grand scheme, was impressed with the integrity and conviction of both Blackburn and Lockwood, and had agreed to arrange a meeting with his uncle.

King Zaratite seemed interested in a possible relationship with Hope’s Point once he heard of their exploits in the north: standing against a superior military force for decades, defying the dangers of the northern wastes, and of course Queen Blackburn’s own bravery and initiative in recent events and her concern for her citizens. He was more interested when he learned that Lockwood, the scrawny pegasus that had passed out at the prospect of dueling Zircon, was to be her husband and thus the future king of Hope’s Point.

The couple didn’t really know what to think about the gesture of hospitality that Zaratite had bequeathed upon them, but they weren’t about to refuse it. The zebra king had been quite supportive of their union, despite lacking much knowledge of either of them personally, and claimed it to be a zebra tradition to provide wedding gifts to visiting nobility and dignitaries. While he’d done so in the poetic, rhyming verse that was a hallmark of zebra society, his message could be condensed down to… encouraging.

So now, Sir Zircon himself personally escorted the royal couple to a private room in the Zeb’ra’den royal palace, and ushered them inside with a knowing smile and a friendly nod, wishing them luck in his own poetic, rhyming meter before heading off to be alone—to lament Rarity’s departure, Blackburn figured. It was a cruel fate that the zebra would be forever without his true love; Blackburn couldn’t imagine what her life would be like if she knew she’d never see Lockwood again.

“I can’t believe we’re agreeing to this,” Lockwood whispered to Blackburn as they entered the rather large chamber.

“Consider it your first act of diplomacy,” Blackburn replied in an equal whisper and a smile. “Rude to refuse; builds our relationship with zebras. Cannot think of any negatives here.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s all well and good, but this is a little… sudden, don’t you think? And, uh… awkward?”

“Believe Briarthorn gave you specific instructions on what to… do with me?” Blackburn said with a knowing smirk. “Are you refusing his request?”

Lockwood, red in the face, shook his head. “N-no, but—”

“Then no more to discuss.” She leaned over and kissed his neck. “Besides: have five years to catch up on. Looking forward to reigniting our relationship.”

“You don’t need to remind me how long it’s been, hon,” Lockwood chuckled.

The room was quite large and divided into two distinct halves. On the left side was a large bath pool surrounded by a marble floor, big enough to carry some twenty ponies—or zebras, rather—with relative ease; on the right side was a huge, comfortable-looking bed covered in purple satin sheets, bigger than even the bed in Blackburn’s royal chambers. A neat partition of cobblestones kept the two halves separate so that any spillage from the left wouldn’t disturb the right. The room was dimly lit by dozens of lanterns that hung from the ceiling.

Also in the room were a quintet of zebra mares, all dressed in loose-fitting ceremonial white robes and assorted bone and crystal jewelry, their manes tied in braids and filled with flowers. Blackburn noted they were all rather young and attractive with leanly-muscled frames that indicated a definite physical strength.

One of the five, slightly older than the others, also wore a ceremonial ceramic mask over the top half of her face, which was decorated with pink and green crystals and paints to give the appearance of a flowery field. This lead zebra cleared her throat and spoke to the royal couple as they entered.

“Welcome, honored guests, to the Shrine of Lifebearing, sacred shrine of Layk,” said the mare.

Blackburn noted her completely different meter compared to the other zebras she’d met, a haiku format rather than the iambic meters that Zircon used. Clearly this religious sect, which worshipped the zebra goddess Layk, were of a different class and thus had a different way of speaking than the others. It would take time to catalog all the different meters and rhymes of Zeb’ra’den society so she could quickly distinguish social standing and roles.

“Thank you for having us,” Blackburn said with a polite nod. “And you are?”

“I am Ziala, High Priestess of Goddess Layk. So, shall we begin?”

“What exactly does this entail?”

“We weren’t told much,” Lockwood added. “Only that we were expected to, uh… w-well… er…” He tugged the collar of his jacket. “Hoo boy. Is it hot in here?”

“King Zaratite explained this ‘wedding gift’ was meant to… ensure that my husband and I produced an heir,” Blackburn said, turning slightly red in the face. Teasing Lockwood about it was one thing, but speaking plainly to a stranger about the reproductive intention of tonight was a touch awkward.

Ziala smiled and gave a small laugh. “Our great Goddess Layk’s domains art Life, Love, Nature, and... Fertility.”

“Oh. Good. Sounds like we’re in the right place, then,” Lockwood noted with a little grin to Blackburn.

“Please, guests, be relaxed. We’ll take care of everything. Well… most everything,” she added with a smirk.

Ziala gestured with a clap of her hooves to the other zebra mares, who immediately moved to flank Blackburn and Lockwood and, without speaking a single word, began disrobing the couple. The two pegasi resisted at first, but the zebra priestesses seemed insistent and strong, though they were gentle and assuring in their actions. The couple eventually relented, and soon their clothes were folded neatly and placed on a receptacle in the corner were they would later be taken to be cleaned.

Ziala then gestured towards the large bath pool, and the other priestesses led Blackburn and Lockwood over with sweet smiles on their faces. As they gently escorted Blackburn in first, the two priestesses with her disrobed as well in a smooth, swift motion. Blackburn noted that her assessment was correct: these mares were very physically fit, able to easily overpower if they wanted.

The other two priestesses did the same with Lockwood, who was overcome with nervousness as he entered into the water; Blackburn could tell his fear of drowning wasn’t overpowering him, but that it must be taking a lot of effort to put such thoughts aside.

One of the priestesses with Lockwood eyed him curiously. “Good sir, please, thou canst relax here. What is wrong?” A variation of the meter the High Priestess used, Blackburn noted.

Lockwood gulped and made sure his head was above the water before speaking. “I, uh… I h-have a terrible f-fear of drowning. Even b-baths make me nervous…”

Blackburn frowned and quickly added, “A long story, very private. Is there an alternative?”

The priestess that had asked the question sidled up gently next to him in the bath, pressing herself against him closely. Blackburn would normally get a rise about a mare being so intimate with her stallion but she could see nothing in her expression that hinted at anything other than motherly affection. She wasn’t bothered. Much.

“Worry not, sir. I am here for thee. I will help keep thy head above the water. Hath no fear.”

Lockwood gulped again and nodded. “O-okay. Sure… ah… b-but um… wh-what are you doing now?” he asked when the mare’s hooves ventured beneath the water, which was so clean that Blackburn could see said hooves brushing along Lockwood’s stomach.

“Why, good sir, we must clean thee now. Please, relax.”

The couple were kept on opposite sides of the bath, far enough away from one another that they could not interact physically with each other but were still in plain sight. The priestesses procured several jars of creamy liquids from the side of the bath and, with gentle nods of acknowledgement to both one another and to the couple, they began to clean Blackburn and Lockwood of all the sweat, dirt, and dried blood that still dirtied their coats. But this seemed more than a physical cleaning, but also spiritual, as though the bath would cleanse the couple of their worries and stress all the same.

Blackburn knew that neither she nor her betrothed had had any true sensual stimulation in literal years. Obviously not with one another, but not privately either. Blackburn had had a particularly grating time as her heat cycles were agonizing; she had to contend with Briarthorn’s constant come-ons, and though Gadget tried her best to assist her with medicines and spells, Blackburn was intensely jealous that the other mare could freely find a stallion to deal with her own heats and that just made it worse.

Blackburn knew that Lockwood, on the other hoof, had never been one to notice that mares had been throwing themselves at him for years, and even if he had, he’d have never considered betraying Blackburn’s trust or his own moral code to take advantage of any of them. All the same, she’d never known him to take matters into his own hooves, i.e. masturbate, and though she’d understand if he did—she had to do so herself occasionally—she just knew he didn’t.

Now, though, these zebra mares were softly, thoroughly, and most importantly, sensually cleaning every inch of their bodies; it was embarrassing and exciting all at the same time. Blackburn had to suppress gasps and moans as the two priestesses used sponges and hooves to scrub not just her coat, mane, and tail, but also her nethers. Lockwood was clearly struggling equally as hard to keep his own excitement in check as the priestesses earnestly scrubbed his cock and balls.

Blackburn thought she should be annoyed that a mare other than herself was so involved with her stallion’s privates, but being here to watch it happen somehow made her… excited. Not because he was going to have sex with these zebra mares in front of her—so she hoped—but that they were preparing him for her.

The weirdest thing about it to either of them was the dedicated, diligent manner the zebra mares went about the cleaning; while for Blackburn—and Lockwood as well, she could tell—this was a very sexually-exciting situation, watching one another be touched so sensually, for the priestesses this was just their religious duty. They didn’t look bored, no, but they were definitely not in danger of enjoying this like the pegasi were. This was… work.

In the meanwhile, Ziala had disrobed as well, though she remained outside the bath on the other side of the room, and busied herself with other tasks: stirring a strange paint that glowed a subtle icy blue; using a mortar and pestle to mix together herbs into a fine green powder that she then mixed into a red, viscous liquid; lighting savory-smelling incensed candles around the bed and littering the sheets with flower petals.

Blackburn started breathing heavily as the scent of the herbal-infused shampoo entered her nostrils; it was an intoxicating smell she couldn’t recognize, but it made her feel lightheaded, comfortable, relaxed. This made it easier for the priestesses to attend to her more thoroughly, and Blackburn couldn’t tell if she was ashamed or not that she was letting these zebra mares arouse her so.

One of the zebras tending to her, whose hoof was rubbing a sponge against Blackburn’s inner thighs, glanced over at Lockwood, then back to Blackburn. She spoke with a gentle tone: “Please, tell me, how long has it been since thy last?”

Blackburn, normally very private except with her closest friends about this sort of thing, couldn’t stop herself from talking. “Five years.”

The zebra cooed sadly. “Oh, poor dear. A mare such as thee? What a shame.”

“Couldn’t help it. Separated from… from him,” Blackburn breathed, eyeing Lockwood as she said it. “I am his, he is mine. Would not have any other. Would never.”

“Neither would I,” Lockwood added from across the bath, clearly experiencing the same free-flowing lightheadedness that she was.

“Mmm, true love. Such a sweet feeling. Tell me more.”

Blackburn and Lockwood let their words flow together, giving a brief summary of the events that had brought them into their relationship. His kindness and generosity towards her; his willingness to sacrifice himself for her betterment; her vengeful rampage against those that had hurt him; the years they shared together; the years they spent apart; his journey to reunite with her.

One of the priestesses cleaning Lockwood, her hoof on a sponge currently cleaning his semi-erect length, murmured with appreciation. “This good sir earned his scars in battle. He is brave. The strong love that he has for thee deserves praise.”

Lockwood smirked and seemed to let himself relax a little more in the water, which made Blackburn glad. Maybe he’d be able to battle his fear via this… unique experience. “I’m glad somezebra thinks I’m brave, at least.”

A flicker of realization crossed the mare’s face. “Ah, that’s right, thou wast challenged by Sir Zircon.”

“Ehh… yeah, but… I guess that the other zebras didn’t think these scars were earned fairly?” Lockwood mumbled, flexing his injured wing as the other priestess gently cleaned his feathers.

“Sir Zircon will understand when he learns more. He is good; a brave zebra knight; noble heart.” The priestess let out a wistful sigh.

Blackburn recalled Lockwood mentioning that Sir Zircon had been clearly sought after by several zebra mares in the city, and wondered how they would react if they knew he’d fallen deeply in love with a unicorn mare.

And, if she were a betting mare—she was, by the way—had likely consummated their love together just the night before. She had to wonder if Rarity had returned home expecting… well, expecting. The mare didn’t seem the type, but Blackburn never eliminated possibilities.

After several minutes of deep cleaning, the priestesses finished cleansing the couple of their filth and inhibitions, then gestured for Blackburn and Lockwood to exit the bath with them. The royal couple was then escorted to the center of the room and toweled off so that they were completely dry; this, too, was thorough, but the two pegasi weren’t as bothered anymore and allowed the priestesses to get into every nook and cranny that they needed, offering no resistance.

Ziala waited for them with her presentation of paints, which she gestured to with a smile. “This enchanted paint provideth great benefits once we hath painted upon thy bodies: stamina, stimulation, sensitivity. Please, remaineth still while we apply it to where thou shalt need it most.”

The zebra priestesses except for Ziala herself each grabbed a brush in their mouths, dipped them with the glowing, enchanted paint, then began applying it to Blackburn and Lockwood, who did their best to do just as they were asked.

The priestesses started with the couples’ faces: spiral patterns on their foreheads and a stripe from the bottom lip to the chin. The zebra mare currently applying it to Lockwood’s face was careful around Lockwood’s injured eye; he seemed surprised by the fact that she wasn’t bothered looking directly at it so closely, as many ponies had been. Blackburn chalked it up to them considering it an honorable injury, so they wouldn’t be revolted by it anymore than they would by a nasty scar or a missing limb.

Next, the priestesses moved to the couples’ forelegs, applying stripes that spiraled up from hoof to shoulder at a precise incline; the same was done to the hindlegs. Next were the couples’ barrels and backs: wavy patterns made with tight curves. Tree-shaped patterns were then applied to their flanks, directly over their cutie marks.

Until this point, it had been generally easy for Blackburn and Lockwood to remain calm and still, aside from the discomfort of the cold paint being applied to them in what was otherwise a warm room after a hot bath. But then the painters proceeded to the couples’ genitals, and this was where the exactitude of the painting finally ended, as they had obviously different anatomy.

Blackburn shuddered as the cool paint was brushed along the underside of her stomach, right over her womb, and trailed down with a flowing, spreading pattern—like a waterfall—over and around her vaginal entrance. Once her portion of the painting was done, Blackburn clenched her teeth and shuddered as the otherwise warm air of the room felt particularly cold around her nethers; the paint had definitely enhanced her sensitivity, as advertised.

It didn't help matters that Ziala physically inspected every inch of Blackburn’s body that had been painted over, including and especially the paint spread over her groin. It definitely wasn’t helping any that Ziala was very hooves-on in her inspection; the high priestess's hooves felt like magic against her folds, and Blackburn had to put great effort into resisting lifting her tail in excitement.

As for Lockwood, he had to endure a much more detailed and complicated procedure. The priestesses were, again, thorough, and the paints needed to be applied precisely. They started with the heft of his balls, gingerly painting circular spirals that encompassed each. The stimulation was clearly such that Lockwood, who had been miraculously at half-mast for most of the endeavor so far, became stiff as a rock. They weren’t finished yet, though. They first judged his size—unimpressive for a zebra, but respectable for a pegasus—then painted equidistant rings along his length, including a wavy one along his medial ring.

Then, the painting was done at last.

Next, Ziala gave both Blackburn and Lockwood a small ceramic vial of the sweet-smelling red liquid she’d brewed up during the bath. “And now, honored guests, ingest this special mixture, blessed by Layk herself.

“And what do these do?” Lockwood asked inspecting his vial; Blackburn had already pounded hers back like a shot of vodka, wanting to get this moving along as the cool air was making her crotch uncomfortable.

Ziala smiled mischievously. “You will see soon, sir. It will not take long at all. Now please, drink it up.”

Lockwood shrugged and did as he was asked.

Blackburn opened her mouth to ask a question as she had yet to feel anything, but then she paused as the most intense heat she’d ever felt in her life spread through her nethers like wildfire. She started breathing heavily in long, labored pants. She’d completely lost any hint of self-restraint, her tail lifting involuntarily and her pussy winking uncontrollably in anticipation. She looked to Lockwood with a crazed lust in her eyes as five years of separation from him came to a sudden head. It took everything she had to not race over to pin him under her right then and there.

The potion had induced estrus, naturally, but even in this state Blackburn knew it was more than that. It wasn’t an insatiable lust for mating in general as most mares experienced when in heat; it was a single-minded desire for him. She knew this was the first time they’d been able to be intimate since they separated all those years ago, and that after this, she’d have to spend so much time rebuilding and mourning and planning that it might be a long time before she had another opportunity. She didn’t just want him now; she needed him more than she’d ever needed anything before.

Lockwood, meanwhile, could clearly smell her heat as female musk wafted throughout the room; his nostrils flared, eyes widened, and he looked over to her in a stunned daze as the pheromones muddled his senses. She could see his erection stiffen further and his ball twitch and, dare Blackburn say it, grow. The potion seemed to be affecting his virility.

Ziala and the other priestesses then led Blackburn and Lockwood over to the bed, and it was at this point that the two broke formation at last, throwing themselves at each other with reckless abandon.

It had been a long, long time since the couple had lost their virginity together, but the memories of that night now felt fresh in their minds and their bodies went through the motions now just as they did then, only now with both an experienced and a desperate lust that hadn’t been present that night. They’d had sex more than just the once, but tonight felt like their second first time.

Blackburn pushed Lockwood onto the bed roughly then climbed on top of him and buried her nose into his crotch to inhale his masculine musk. Even though he’d just been cleaned in a bath, his balls were already starting to sweat, and the scent was making her head swim.

She didn’t waste much time down there, though; he was already fully erect and her insides felt like they were on fire. She was worried that if she spent one more minute without impaling herself onto him she’d literally burst into flames.

So, she clamored up to meet her mate face-to-face, his erection sliding against her chest and stomach as she did, and kissed him more deeply than she’d ever kissed him before, shoving her tongue so far into his mouth that he almost choked. With one hoof she steadied herself on the bed, while with the other, she started to guide his cock towards her winking, hungry nethers.

She sunk down onto it slowly, letting out a hearty moan of pleasure as soon as the flared head of his cock pushed inside her. She felt a brief relief instantly as he stretched her out for the first time in five long years and she wondered if he’d actually gotten bigger since their last time together.

The relief didn’t last long, though. She needed the fire inside her quenched now. Lockwood, meanwhile, let out a groan half of pleasure, half of surprise; he clearly hadn’t experienced this in just as long, and he’d certainly never felt her insides this hot before; her heats had never been this bad—at least while they were together—and they'd always used a condom before.

Blackburn didn’t waste time pushing herself further down onto Lockwood’s length, letting out a particularly loud moan as his medial ring pushed its way inside too. It was only a moment before she’d completely engulfed her mate within her, and it was here that she took a moment to breathe heavily and enjoy the fullness she felt.

But Ziala and the priestesses clearly expected and were prepared for the two pegasi to throw themselves in a frenzied lust, as it was perfectly normal given the circumstances. But they still had a religious duty to do, so they climbed onto the bed themselves to make sure things were done properly. They were, of course, clearly quite surprised that Blackburn was taking charge, perhaps not used to seeing the mare lead in their culture.

Blackburn felt herself pried off of Lockwood by the priestesses, which was clearly complicated for them as she was practically begging not to have Lockwood’s cock taken away from her for even a second, not after she’d felt so full. She struggled the entire way, just short of kicking and screaming like a criminal dragged off to jail. Her begging didn’t come so much via words as it did via pathetic mewling.

Eventually the priestesses managed to separate the couple long enough for Zalia to intervene and “help”—force, really—Blackburn into the proper breeding position: on all fours, hindquarters in the air, front down against the bed, presenting herself to her mate. While one priestess kept Lockwood at bay—seeing his mare on display like that was clearly too much for him to resist—two of the others forcefully kept Blackburn in position while Zalia made sure the Queen was all properly splayed out.

Blackburn had never, ever, relinquished control in anything she did, least of all sex with Lockwood—who liked being dominated—but she was so desperate right now that she allowed it; resisting would make it take longer, she figured.

She could swear that Ziala actually enjoyed this aspect of her duties as high priestess, and perhaps the other priestesses as well. It was the only explanation for why they didn’t just allow Lockwood to move on Blackburn right then and there and just let nature take its course. No, this was intended to be a passionate, sensual affair, and Ziala apparently wanted to make sure the two knew that.

Ziala tended to Blackburn first. Black felt the High Priestess caressing her flanks with gentle motions, and acquiesced to her spreading her legs to give Lockwood a good, honest look at his mate’s winking vagina. She watched Lockwood fruitlessly struggle against the priestess holding him, but it was clear the other mare was stronger than he was; now Blackburn knew that priestesses of Layk had to be strong in order to restrain zebras several times stronger than Lockwood was in these exact circumstances.

Ziala gingerly stroked her hoof right up Blackburn’s slickness in a sensual motion, earning an illicit moan from the Queen, then suddenly stopped, nodded at the other two priestesses, and moved towards Lockwood. The two other priestesses continued Ziala’s earlier massage as Blackburn watched Ziala press her hoof right against Lockwood’s nose, letting the stallion breathe in his mate’s scent deeply; her other hoof gently rubbed along the length of his still-wet shaft, earning a tense shudder from him.

In the meantime, the remaining priestess procured a drum set and began to play a slow, rhythmic tune that matched Blackburn’s heartbeat. Zalia joined in with a low, gentle chant, then, with the help of the other priestesses, guided the stallion over to his mate; he wasted no time at all in approaching Blackburn and mounting her, instinct taking over completely by this point.

Blackburn felt Zalia run her hooves beneath her to help guide Lockwood’s amusingly colt-like thrusts; Blackburn let out a loud moan when Lockwood found his mark and, thanks to her slick wetness and their earlier, brief engagement, slid all the way to the base without the slightest hint of resistance.

Zalia drew up behind Lockwood and used her hips and hooves to keep Lockwood’s thrusts in tune with the drum beats, while the two priestesses with Blackburn joined in with Zalia’s chanting; they no longer needed to keep Blackburn still, as she was doing just fine on her own, and instead took to caressing Blackburn’s neck and back to relax her. The two pegasi were unique amongst ponies in experiencing this zebra fertility ritual, which was every bit religious as it was sexual and passionate and thus was treated with a great deal of procedure despite everything.

Lockwood was clearly unable to focus on anything but moving his hips in tune with the beat, his usual calm, polite demeanor giving way to impassioned, feral instinct that actually pushed Blackburn forward and made her bite into the pillow, something she never did with him. She had been reduced to little more than a puddle of sweat and moans by now, her typical unbreakable composure completely replaced by a drooling mess.

What little coherency Blackburn had left told her that if either of them could see one another the way they were now, they’d be very, very confused: Blackburn a whimpering mess instead of a headstrong, take-charge leader; Lockwood a masculine machine rather than a sweet, sensitive friend to everypony.

The couple had made love many, many times in the two years they were together up north before being separated. This, though, this wasn’t making love, not by any stretch, not anymore. This was fucking they were doing, no, more than that: breeding. All that mattered to Blackburn right now was having her mate’s cock thrusting inside her until he drowned her insides with his seed and gave her a foal; all that Lockwood cared about was giving Blackburn exactly what she wanted.

Thanks to the enchanted paint decorating his privates, Lockwood was definitely filled with more stamina than usual, and Blackburn was sure by now that it had actually increased his size as well. Despite the heat surrounding his cock as he plunged again and again into her tight depths, he was able to last longer than Blackburn had ever known him to.

She definitely did not expect to feel his flared tip just barely graze her cervix, and she let out a gasp when he did. Yes he was absolutely bigger than normal if that had happened; before, he’d always been at least an inch away, even when completely hilted within her. And yes, he was hilted right now, not even a fraction of an inch to spare, but that was a depth he could never have hoped to reach before; it was kind of uncomfortable, and she was glad that he was relatively average in size most of the time.

Again and again he just grazed that deepest point, and Blackburn found her eyes rolling back as the new sensation pushed her to her limits. It didn’t take much longer before, with an uncharastically deep whinny, Lockwood tightened his grip around Blackburn’s flanks, thrusting as deep as he could and loosed his seed into Blackburn’s womb. Blackburn bit hard into the sheets of the bed, muffling her cries of satisfaction as the sensation of getting filled finally pushed her over the edge, her tunnel practically gushing as she matched his release with her own.

Lockwood practically collapsed, his body draped over hers as she milked him for everything he was worth. He could barely hold himself steady with one foreleg, the other lovingly moving to Blackburn's stomach. He was not a strong stallion, nor a heavy one, so the effort was unnecessary; Blackburn could support his weight rather easily.

Several eternal seconds passed, but, despite expectations, Lockwood’s erection did not even remotely go down. As he pulled himself out of her, Blackburn let out a groan of protest, the sudden emptiness almost painful. She let herself crumble to the bed, rolling onto her side with hot, heavy breaths as she tried to recover from the experience. Her pussy twitched as her climax wore off, inadvertently squeezing some of his warm cum out.

In the brief post-orgasmic clarity he had, she heard him ask a single, breathless question: “Is this… normal?” he asked, gesturing towards his still-hard stallionhood.

Zalia smiled and shifted her hoof underneath Lockwood to cradle his still-heavy balls, causing him to sharply inhale and shudder at the sudden touch. Blackburn tittered briefly, noting again that if any other mare were to be so forward with him it didn’t matter how strong they were, they’d regret it. But with these zebra priestesses, she felt more self-assured than anything. The gesture was for her—that is, Blackburn’s—benefit, not his or Zalia’s, to let Blackburn know he had plenty more seed to give her.

“Quite normal, young one,” the priestess cooed. “Magic paints for stamina, potion for stiffness. It ensures thy seed will take within thy mate’s womb; no fear of softness.”

Ziala then turned her attention back to Blackburn, who felt the combined fluids of herself and Lockwood leaking onto the bed sheets with every moment that Lockwood wasn’t inside her; Blackburn noted that there was a lot of semen present. A combination of five years of storing up plus the magical potions, perhaps?

“As for thee, my dear,” Ziala said, “if thou needest some respite, then please, sayeth so.”

Blackburn rolled onto her back, wings splayed beneath her. She’d given up any pretense at this point of doing things in the way she and Lockwood considered normal. The zebras had made it clear by now that, despite their normal dichotomy, Lockwood was to be the dominant one tonight. Between the paints, potions, and the passion she felt right now, she didn’t care; if anything, it turned her on more than anything that for once in her life, she wasn’t required to take charge. She didn’t need to hold back. She was allowed to indulge herself.

She barely managed to voice her opinion on the matter: “...keep going…”

Lockwood didn’t need to be told twice, and positioned himself over her, flared tip at her entrance. “As you wish, Your Majesty,” he said in her ear before kissing her neck.

He trailed his kisses up to her ear, then to her lips where he could kiss her fully. His hooves caressed her flanks, gently at first, then brusquely as he gripped her tight and thrust himself inside all in one go.

Blackburn woke up several hours later, sorer than she’d ever felt before, but wrapped in Lockwood’s embrace; he was just waking up as well and seemed just as disoriented. A brief glance around her told her they were still in the private chamber from the night before, which had been cleaned of all the stink of sex and obvious physical evidence of the deed, both on the bed and on themselves; she wasn’t sure if they’d been bathed or not, but that was the only thing she could think of. She didn’t remember much.

A slight shift of her position told them that they were not alone in the bed; Zalia and her priestesses were present as well, surrounding the loving couple with the warmth of their bodies, still very nude, just as they were. Blackburn remembered little of the night apart from arriving in the room, getting bathed and painted, then mostly just a blur after that. The snippets she could remember were something she would always have in her mind, and a glance at Lockwood told her he thought the same; the passion they felt… no, the raw, unfiltered, unrestrained lust.

While the other priestesses slept soundly, Zalia was awake. She noticed the couple waking as well, and gave them a polite smile. “Ah, our guests now wake. I hope thy dreams were pleasant. How art thou feeling?”

“Sore…” Blackburn said with a roll of her neck. “Did… um… did the ritual… succeed? Am I—”

Zalia shushed Blackburn with a hoof to the lips. “Thou shalt know in time. Thou needest not worry, dear. This ritual is ancient tradition. The blessings of Lady Layk art now upon thee,” she added, pressing her hoof to Blackburn’s stomach.

Lockwood, red in the face, cleared his throat. “So, um… wh-what’s next?”

Zalia smiled. “I hath been told this: His Majesty hath allowed use of this chamber for all of the day. Perhaps thou needeth breakfast before we go on?” she added with a knowing smirk, gesturing for the paints and potions that were still set up at the center of the room.

Blackburn and Lockwood shared a brief look, an excited, breathless smile played across both their faces.

This was going to be a fun day.