Minutes on a Midnight Ride

Liberated.

 

That one word had been the start of it all. The calling card of whatever this entire ordeal should be called. When we asked her what had happened, that was her claim. And she swore she'd make us all see things the same way.

 

"I shall free all from these idealistic shackles, enforced by those looking down on us."

 

"We refuse to adhere to the constructs of this society any longer."

 

"No more must we strive to fulfill an ever-changing set of demands that can be reached by none!"

 

Bold claims, made by a bodacious pony.

A pony who'd devoted her entire life to nothing but those particular rules.

 

It had been a contradictory development. To this day, you still doubt how things ever came to this, though you've grown to accept them for the most part. There was little you could do from your current position.

 

 

 

Rarity had been a pony with grace and poise. Skill and delight. Always carrying an undeniable aura of sophistication with her. She was not like any of her friends, and often prided herself on that fact. Ever since she was little, she knew what she wanted out of her life.

 

She wanted to be known. To have her name in grand, glowing letters on every corner of the street. Magazines begging her for an interview, dying to hear the fashionista's opinion on whatever topic was trending. Letters and gifts from secret admirers piling at her door each morning. To have ponies whispering and gossiping as she simply passed them by.

 

Her entire life, she had put in all she could to live up to that dream. Hours, days, weeks, months, and years of her life were devoted to perfecting her image. In each and every single undertaking she'd taken on, she'd put her entire soul and heart. She was willing to risk anything and everything, if it meant that she could be part of those to whom she looked up with such awe. More than anything in the world, Rarity wanted to be part of them. And Rarity was many things.

 

A caring sister. A good friend. Personal acquaintance of none other than Princess Celestia. Bearer of the Element of Generosity. Somepony with a keen eye for fashion. A mare so dignified, she knew more about the proper etiquette of things than those who created those rules in the first place.

 

Rarity was many things. But she was not part of Equestrian high society.

 

No matter how often she socialized at those secluded garden parties, no matter how often she presented a new line of clothing, no matter how many times she saved the world from impending doom,...

 

Rarity was not famous.

 

Many hours of her life were spent pondering upon the same set of questions.

"How can I fit in with them? What do I lack that they possess? What must I change about myself?"

 

And each and every single time Rarity had thought to have finally found what she needed, that cutting edge that would surely make her famous, she had been proven wrong. There were times when she wondered why she bothered. Why she put so much effort into a goal she would likely never reach. At those times, she would retreat to her inspiration room. Spending hours in that cramped space, working on her newest creations.

 

Though she would never tell this to anypony else, Sweetie Belle had often heard her sister cry and whimper from underneath the door of her inspiration room.

 

It had been Rarity's safe haven. There, she could hide from prying eyes. There, she could show the hurt she repressed every time her new designs were met with apathy.

 

There, an idea had formed itself that would render the world in ashes.

 

 

 

Rarity had come back from Canterlot where she'd suffered yet another failed attempt to release her newest line of summer dresses.

 

"They look very nice, Rarity," Princess Celestia had told her.

"They remind me of Hoity's line of last spring," Sapphire Shores' verdict had sounded.

"I do miss... a certain 'shezam', if you get me," Fancypants had claimed.

 

Nice. Rip-offs. Bland.

 

That night, Rarity did not go back to her inspiration room straight away. Instead, she took out all her marequines and placed them in her yard. In the pale moonlight, her dresses waved in a soft breeze. The light fabrics danced along the winds, slowly rising and falling by the caress of an invisible lover. The colors seemingly flowed into each other without transition. Her dresses were a symbiotic symphony of fabrics, textures, and colors.

 

The true beauty of Rarity's designs showed itself in that moment. These were the visions she dreamed of when she was in her so-called 'creative spurs'. In those moments, everything she thought of was pure genius.

Rarity took a sip of wine from the bottle she'd brought with her as she gazed upon this display of eerie beauty.

 

Then she lit them all on fire.

 

Once more, she sat in her inspiration room, her coat now slightly tainted by the ashes of what remained from her workmanship of the past six weeks. The light of a full moon fell in through the only window, casting an grey aura on the table she sat in front of.

 

And once more, the same questions ran through her mind.

"How can I fit in with them? What do I lack that they possess? What must I change about myself?"

 

With a wistful sigh, she looked up at the moon.

And then she smiled. She knew what she needed to change about herself.

 

Nothing at all.

 

 

 

Ponyville has always been a small community. Everypony knew everypony, making secrets a hard thing to maintain. If Mrs. Cake told one of her morning customers of how Pound been having trouble sleeping, she could be certain to receive a visit from nurse Redheart before noon. If Derpy had once again delivered "Saucy Stallions" on Mayor Mare's doorstep, the elder mare would silently giggle to herself, quickly scan through the magazine and then have it delivered on the doorstep of Caramel Apple by her own delivery ponies.

Word traveled fast through town and the more interesting the word in case was, the faster it traveled.

 

The townsfolk had never spoken so fast when they heard of what had happened at Carousel Boutique.

 

Fancypants had traveled from Canterlot to have a new tuxedo for the Grand Galloping Gala made by none other than Ponyville's premier fashionista Rarity. That in itself was news enough as it was. But Rarity's answer to his inquiry was one that would not be forgotten anytime soon, if ever at all.

 

"I shan't degrade myself to utilize my skill and vision for one with the likes of you."

 

The entirety of Ponyville had known in less than two hours. Canterlot was in uproar that same day. Newspapers had that sentence as headliner for three days straight.

 

In Carousel Boutique, Rarity laughed as she looked at the various newspapers that had been sent to her. Finally, ponies spoke her name. Now she'd seen how wrong she had been all this time by trying to fit in with the others. She knew she was not like other ponies. She had always known this.

And now, the full extent on that realization had set in.

 

The generosity she'd shown to this world had brought her nothing. Egocentricity would bring her the world itself.

 

Rarity no longer felt the need to fit in with the high society. She would not confirm to their rules, she would simply create her own. In the past, she'd always hoped to have her name associated with grand things. Now, she wished for her name to be known and nothing more.

 

 

 

In hindsight, that would have been the moment where she could have been stopped. Though it's always easy to point out those things in hindsight. At the time itself, many were simply too baffled by her boldness. Things soon began to spiral out of control from there on out.

 

 

 

Rarity always had a way with words. A certain angle laced into the specific way she worded things. Often, her statements were left ambiguous with intent as not to offend any of the ponies she so looked up to. Now, Rarity no longer bothered with the composure society had pressed upon her. Each party she went to, she made sure to leave a little jab or insult circulating through those she spoke with. And as time passed by, Rarity's name grew notorious for her sharp tongue. Her already small circle of so-called friends in the higher regimen began to thin with each passing day.

 

And more and more, she got mentioned. She became a sensation everyone talked about. But sensations like that are temporary. In time, they become forgotten. Rarity would see to it that her name would never be forgotten again.

 

The more time passed by, the more Rarity herself faded away. Something else came in her place instead. Something that worked very hard on destroying the image Rarity had built for herself all these years. The transition had been so gradual... Barely notable at first, yet undeniable at the end. That is why it took us so long to see it.

 

Everything Rarity had ever been, everything she'd worked so hard for got thrown away. Piece by piece, Rarity had fallen apart. And with each piece that fell, we got to see a little more of what lingered underneath.

 

The realization came far too late for an easy fix. Too late for any kind of restoration, actually.

 

Luna had wanted recognition for her efforts and wounded up losing herself in that path, leading to her own exile.

Now, the same had happened to Rarity.

 

It was odd how sudden the physical change was. Mentally, the nightmare essence had been festering within Rarity for months. All it took was a single full moon for her body to adapt to it. From there on out, there was no denying that Rarity wasn't herself anymore.

 

The princesses and her former friends went to confront her, trying to talk sense into her. Their efforts were futile. She was beyond reasoning.

 

She was liberated.

 

It's how she felt once she saw the truth. It's how she wanted to make the whole world feel.

 

The only remaining solution would be to strip the corruption from her by sheer strength. According to the princesses, the only things capable of producing such power are the Elements of Harmony.

 

One of them being Rarity herself.

 

The nightmare essence is a very vengeful being, something you came to understand over the past months far more than you wished to have. Both princesses received the same punishment they'd given to the corruption itself. A millennium trapped in magical suspension in their respective celestial body.

 

Rarity's rise to the throne had gone without much hindrance after that. The remaining Bearers could no longer harm her in any way or form. They resisted and got imprisoned. You don't know what happened to them after that, but she tells you that they are safe and that she'll let them go once they give in to her.

 

 

 

"Heh... Liberated."

 

A tug from your arms comes accompanied by the hollow clinking of metal. Rarity had spoken of her disgust of 'those idealistic shackles'. Regular shackles, however, were something she apparently had no issues with whatsoever. You let your body go limp again; your constraints making it impossible for you to go anywhere regardless.

 

When she'd first locked you in this dungeon, you spent a lot of time thinking. You had the energy for it. The will. The drive. The motivation.

 

Nowadays, you lack all of those. There is no longer reason for you to think. You used to wonder why she locked you here. Now fully aware of your predicament, you gave up on that. It doesn't really matter. You're here, nothing would change about that. You still have your theories, though that is all they are as well.

 

Rarity had always wanted to fit in with the rich and the famous; the elite, looking down on the rest of society with disdain. Until the corruption got hold of her. After that, she wanted to distance herself as far from that as she could. And she'd been successful in doing so.

 

Save for one aspect. One tiny little detail she'd never be able to change anything about.

 

She was a pony. She was born a pony, and she would die one, too. In that sense, she was just the same like all the others in her kingdom. No matter how much she wanted to stray from those rules that had dictated the majority of her life, she would always be one of them.

 

And then, there was you. Taunting her, simply by being yourself. You'd never fit into this world. Not completely. You'd always be different. You embodied the very thing she so desired and you didn't even had to do anything for it.

 

Perhaps, it was envy she held against you for that.

 

It could also very simply be your physical capabilities that had caused her to lock you in here, though you still like to think of Rarity to be above such a primal mindset.

 

Then again, you weren't trapped here by Rarity...

 

That, to this day, would be the one thing you did think about; how such clashing personalities manage to reside in one body.

 

One who loves nothing more than to be the center of attention, dancing along in the spotlights.

The other, shrouding itself in darkness and vague statements. Always present, yet seldom discernible.

 

A hollow sigh brushes past your lips. As you close your eyes, you think you can hear a crack. It's a sound you've been hearing less and less lately as you hang here, suspended in the dark.

 

The first time you heard it, you grew hopeful, thinking that perhaps you could break free from these shackles. Nowadays, you know that the cracks don't exist. Not really.

 

There used to be a fight. One in which you fought bravely for your freedom. She could keep you in chains, but you were still a free man. She had no control over you. The armor you wore had dents and cuts in it to show the battles you'd partaken in. The nightmare was strong, but so were you. You fought against her oppression. You resisted. The battles now only linger in your mind as repressed memories.

 

Maybe you could've won. Somewhere, deep down in your mind, a little voice still lingers, whispering that you could have won this fight.

 

If there still were one. There simply is no more fight. No more struggle for dominance.

 

The nightmare essence is a cruel being. An immortal entity, using its very existence as a weapon. Rarity simply left you here, alone in your dungeon. No surroundings, no clothes, nothing.

 

She did not waste her energy on breaking your armor. The nightmare simply waited. She waited for your armor to break. She wouldn't waste her strength on you. She would wait until you broke down on your own.

 

In the past, you thought those cracks you heard were your armor breaking down. Lately, you've grown wiser.

 

There never was an armor.

 

The nightmare was breaking your spirit. Little by little, she pierced her way through your resistance. Sometimes, it was flattery. Then beatings. Harsh words, followed by sensual ministrations.

 

Always conflicting. It grew harder and harder to keep making sense of things. Months of her treatment left you confused and disconnected. There was little of you left. You no longer fought her. Unless she asked you to.

 

You've grown into an odd mindset over the course of time you'd spent down here. Rarity's actions have come to make you consider yourself in an entirely different way. You like to think of your body and mind as separate entities.

 

She'd broken most of your spirit already. You hoped that if you willingly gave her your body, she'd let you keep that little part of yourself that remained. That little voice that whispered to you that you could've won.

 

A foolish notion, perhaps, but you have little else nowadays. And ever since you gave into her without struggle, things had been going a little better.

 

Sometimes, the shackles got opened for a few hours. On some days, you'd use that time to walk around a bit. Most days however, you used that time to lie down and rest.

It's not much, but in the past, she freed you for one reason only.

This was in all likeliness the best your 'relationship' had ever been. It was far from perfect, obviously. But she didn't beat you any longer.

 

She's been treating you better lately. Because you'd been treating her better as well. It was only fair.

 

You snap your eyes shut in pain. You're no longer used to the light, much less its abrupt appearance. You jerk your head to the left, away from the impending light from the hallway. The door continues to open with a grating creaking noise coming from the hinges.

 

"Now that is just plain rude."

 

The tone of voice in which she spoke was one you'd grown to fear over time.

 

"My apologies..."

 

She passed you by without so much as a glance. Her horn flared up and instinctively you tried to make yourself as small as possible.

 

"...Mistress."

 

Her arcane aura bolted against the ceiling, causing a soft glow to fill the room. Most of the lighting in the room came from her ethereal mane, however. Rarity would always find a way to draw the attention of an entire room towards her.

 

Though, you were just glad to have someone to talk to other than yourself, even if it was her. Another curt nod with her horn and soon you heard the familiar sounds of the locks on your arms and legs popping open.

 

"Come. Sit."

 

In the corner of your room, she'd recently placed a small table. She'd never said so, but you think this came as a reward for your obedience. Quickly, you pry loose your bindings and hurry your way over towards the small table, taking a seat opposite of her.

 

Now it was her turn to heave a sigh. "Court was a disaster today."

 

Out of nowhere, a bottle of wine came floating, coated in her paled cerulean aura. With a brief pop, the cork went sailing into the distance as she filled two glasses she'd brought with her with the maroon liquid.

 

"How so?"

 

One glass slid towards you, though you knew it would be wise to wait for permission. Rarity's brow fell in annoyance as she nodded at you. "Go ahead. Drink up." You did as you were commanded, soon to be followed by Rarity herself.

"...Some refuse to agree with the way I intend to change things."

 

Gently, you place the glass back on the table before you answer, "They are used to a diarchy, Mistress. Change is always met by apprehension at first."

 

"Did they not see the debauchery that has festered underneath the command of Celestia and Luna?" the alicorn castigated. "I want to make them see the truth! They do not need to oppress themselves like I did for so long!"

 

"I'm certain you wi—"

 

"Enough!"

 

With a gracious swing of her neck, both the wine as the glasses disappeared into nothingness once more. Rarity stood up straight, her current posture towering well above you from your sitting position.

 

"I did not come here to discuss my methods with you."

 

With a nod of her head, you stood up straight and made your way towards the middle of the room. You'd repeated these motions time and time again, making them automated by now.

 

The ground is cold, hard and grey as you lie down on it, but you do not show a single sign of discomfort in Rarity's presence. As the weight of her flank came down on your face, however, there was little you could do to suppress your grimace of pain.

 

And once more, you hear a crack.

 

"Service me."

 

You remember the first time you told her 'no'. She lashed out at you. Sometimes, when you sleep, you see the look on her face as she pounded you to pulp that day.

 

Utter bliss.

 

That is what you were in essence. A way for her to relieve stress. How wasn't very important. She'd have her way, with or without your consent. It took you weeks to fully heal from her attack.

 

You remember the second time you told her 'no'. The memories might be repressed, but the pain is engraved deep into your mind. Having to undergo surgery without anesthesia is something that leaves scars. Mentally, too.

 

There was no third time you told her 'no'.

 

Your tongue began lapping away at her folds, to which you soon are rewarded with a sigh. With her new-grown body pressing on your face, it grew exceedingly hard to breathe. Your chest was already rising and falling at a much faster rate than it had been at the start. Your efforts required breath. Breath she would not allow you. Not yet. Though your arms were not restrained, you knew to fight against your instincts. Once, you had tried to push her off.

 

As your breaths became shallow and labored, you heard the nightmare sigh in bliss. Those sharp gusts of hot, damp breath pounding against the insides of her sensitive lips was one of her personal favorites. Her clit soon began winking externally to signal her rapidly growing arousal. Your body was already beginning to spasm, nearly on the verge of passing out. Just a matter of seconds before you'd suffocate underneath her. Though your mind screamed not to, your hand began to ball in a fist.

 

Then you drew in a deep breath of fresh air as Rarity slowly began shifting her weight forward, lying herself down on your chest.

 

"Hmmmmmm," she coed. "I do so love it when you do that."

 

From her new position, she forcefully began grinding herself against your face, leaving you little time to reattain your bearings. Your tongue still continued its ministrations; licking along whatever part dragged itself over it. Her lips became coated in a mixture of her own arousal and your saliva. Pants and moans left her at an increasingly rapid rate as she pushed herself down harder and harder on your face. Her button winked against your lips and you placed a little kiss on it, to which Rarity drew a sharp gasp.

 

"Ooooh~" she moaned. "So, you do still have some tricks I have yet to discover? Perhaps, I should return the favor, no?"

 

Now it was you who felt the moist sensation of a lust-loaded sigh on your privates. A deep inhale of breath came shortly after, causing minor drafts of wind to brush past your member, chilling you to the core. You felt her chest expand, pressing down on yours, as she took in a whiff of your essence.

 

"Your musk... Such a delightful aroma it has."

 

Warmth and wetness soon engulfed your member as Rarity took it in her mouth. It definitely was not the first time she had done this, but the sensation still drew a reaction from you. The first times, it had been anger and rage. Then came disgust. Now...

 

You don't rightfully know. Arousal was not one of them, at least you still could say that. Physical stimuli had little effect on you. You felt her tongue brush over your shaft, dragging itself slowly up and down, coating your member richly in her royal saliva. She swirled around the tip, alternating between suckling on it, then slowly lapping at it. But your member remained slack.

 

You simply continued to do what you'd been thought to do for these past months. You would please your mistress. Then she'd go away.

 

With her attention focused on taking care of you, you were granted with more space to move your head. Eagerly, you worked your way deep into her innards. The warm channel pulsated around the wiggly intruder. A small drop of fluid dripped on your nose. Placing your mouth over her sensitive node, you suck it in your maw to give it a violent lashing of your tongue. The mare above you shuddered in delight and before long, you were hit in the face with a gushing torrent of her juices.

 

Rarity's mouth lolled open as she moaned out her orgasm, your member still firmly placed in her mouth. The mare felt her entire body shudder in bliss as she continued to empty herself over your face. This ecstasy coursing through her body made her forget all about the troubles she'd encountered today.

 

When she finally came to, she found a throbbing erection in her mouth.

 

Crack.

 

"Perhaps all this time spent on you wasn't wasted, huh?"

 

With a vacant gaze, you lied staring at the ceiling. Rarity had ridden out the high of her orgasm on your face. Her juices coated the entirety of your visage, some of it running down your bare chest. It wouldn't be the first time this happened. Feeling yourself going erect as the mare's essence ran over your face, on the other hand, was something new. There was only one thing you could discern from this.

 

You'd pleased your mistress.

 

In that moment, you knew you were right. You had been right all along. There was your mind. And your body. Nothing bound them together anymore.

 

Your new-found revelations had distracted you from seeing how Rarity had gotten up from your chest and instead, seated herself on your lap, pressing her heat against your willing length.

 

"I think you deserve to feel good, too," she softly spoke.

 

Your gaze did not stray away from the ceiling at her words. Once, there was a battle. A battle you'd lost.

 

"Thank you, Mistress."

 

Rarity lifted herself just enough to let your member come to rest against her nethers. Slowly, she lowered herself on you. You felt her lips part as they drew you in deeper and deeper, until there was nothing left for her to impale herself on further. As the mare began bobbing herself up and down on you, you grew an new-found appreciation for your mistress. Her beauty made itself apparent to you as her curvaceous figure rhythmically lifted and fell on you. Her gradually softening expression as she felt yet another climax approach. Her ethereal aura. The way her mane danced in the light as she rode you for all your worth.

 

Your mistress was beautiful.

 

Rarity continued to ride you as you beheld her as the frail piece of art she was. Your abdomen were sticky with the fluids of her growing number of orgasms. You had been feeling your own welling up as well, but held it back as long as you could. Your mistress deserved more. You wanted to please her. She'd chosen you. Only you sufficed. But even with a steel will and determination as yours, you are still just a human. A human who had the privilege of being servant to the most powerful mare in this entire world.

 

Her innards squeezed and spasmed around your member and Rarity's face contorted into an expression ready to let out a moan that would know no peers. As much as you'd been holding back your own, you know that this would be the final touch that would sent you over the edge.

 

With one final thrust downwards, the mare's innards contracted on you once more. Her long-drawn moan intermingled with your ravenous grunts in the empty room. Streams of viscous, white goo left you as the mare's mind once more washed blank with the sensation of an overwhelming orgasm. Your nails drag along the course, stone floor as you feel the need to grip something as you empty yourself into Rarity.

 

Your abdomen soon became once more doused in a torrent of paled lemon as Rarity lifted herself of you. The mare stood panting over you as a mixture of both your own and her sexual juices ran over your naked body. As the euphoria of your orgasm died down, you looked up at the mare who stared at you with an expression you were unfamiliar with. Her lips were pressed in a thin line and her eyes filled themselves with both doubt and concern.

 

"Thank you, mistress."

 

She smiled at you as she nodded towards the wall. You couldn't suppress a small wince as you stand up from the floor. Down your back, a small trickle of blood flowed from the cuts that Rarity had caused by scraping your over the floor.

 

The end of your encounters with Rarity were always the same. You stood with your back against the wall as her horn shimmered. The chains and locks wrapped themselves around your arms and ankles once more, falling shut with a click.

 

You had pleased your mistress. Now she'd go away.

 

Rarity looked at you once more, before stepping back into the hallway.

 

"I'll sent in somepony to take your measurements tomorrow, Anon. You need some new clothes."

 

Before you could even respond, she left the room, the glow from the ceiling dying out as well. The door clicked shut in its lock, leaving you to your familiar surroundings again.

 

A solitary drop of semen falls on the floor with a soft splatter. Rarity's juices ran down your legs, sending shivers of cold down your back. The room filled itself with the sickeningly present smell of sex.

 

Exhaustion runs rampant through your body and you fall limp in your restraints once more. Your shoulders still ache as you let your entire body hang on them, but you are too tired too keep standing up straight. In the darkness, you strain your ears.

 

You no longer heard anything.

 

 

Your name is Anonymous, and you are the eternal playtoy of your majesty, Queen Nightmare Rarity; hers to use in any way she so desires.

 

 

Life isn't so bad.