The Mouth of Anonymous 2: Candy Arc


                                            >Fleur cannot contain herself any longer and -with a scream muffled by her muzzle- sends a wave of her own juices streaming down the sides of the device.

                                            >Lord Anonymous had a word for it, one she is well past incapable of remembering.

                                            >She did know that it is something from his homeworld, a design recreated by memory and... tweaked.

                                            >He never said how, but that was the farthest thing from the front of the trembling mare's mind.

                                            >It has been hours since she was locked into her bindings.

                                            >Her holes were filled with perfect replicas of her master's member, slowly sexing her in silent synchronicity.

                                            >A low hum could occasionally be heard over the sounds of the normally quiet mare, a hum belonging to the vibrating pad teasing her teats and waiting in perfectly aligned ambush for her rapidly winking clit.

                                            >She was exhausted.

                                            >Her body had long-since surrendered to the agonizing bliss imposed upon it.

                                            >For a time she had counted every orgasm.

                                            >Usually Master was incredibly sparing in allowing them.

                                            >But this... this was too much.

                                            >She no longer dwelled upon the crashing waves of endorphins coursing through her system.

                                            >Perhaps she wouldn't be able to sit for a day or two, but that wasn't on her mind.

                                            >She did not think, as she arched her back in anticipation, about the soupy mess dribbling from her glistening marehood.

                                            >It barely registered when, as her legs lifted her as far as they could, her teats gained a momentary reprieve.

                                            >All that she knew, as another howling cry rang out through the room, was that her Master was very happy with her.

                                            >After all, only good ponies are allowed to cum.


                                            >After what seemed to be days, the machine slowed down, gently coasting to a complete shutdown.

                                            >Minutes passed, and Fleur slowly regained her senses.

                                            >She could feel every twitch- she was still very much over-stimulated.

                                            >...and now acutely aware of that fact.

                                            >She heard the door open, and hoofsteps.

                                            >No... footsteps...and hoofsteps?

                                            >Master must have Lyra with him.

                                            >He was showing her the castle when he left.

                                            >She squinted as the blindfold was removed, allowing her to confirm her last thought.

                                            >Her Master removed the muzzle, while Lyra released her bindings.

                                            >Scooping her up in his arms, Anonymous carried the exhausted mare to the bed, and laid her down.

                                            >Too tired to be curious, Fleur lay there, content to listen to the sounds of Lyra cleaning up while a gentle hand caressed her back.

                                            >She knew she was sweaty, undeserving of her Master's ministrations, but that was not her decision to make.

                                            >Besides, she appreciated his decision.

                                            >His hand paused, and moments later she felt the magic damper removed from her horn.

                                            >He always forgets it.

                                            >Not that it's really necessary anymore. She was better than that.


                                            >Only when Anonymous rises does Fleur lift her head.

                                            >She stares after him, and watches him approach Lyra.

                                            >The mare just about has the machine spotless.

                                            >In her magic, she floats a jar of a slightly golden liquid to him.

                                            >He grasps it, examining the contents curiously.

                                            >Opening the jar, Anonymous sniffs the contents, before dipping a finger into it.

                                            >Whatever it is, it's strong, based on his reaction.

                                            >He replaces the lid, and sets it on his workbench, then grabs an empty one from a box.

                                            >Crouching down, he places it in a door Fleur hadn't noticed on the device.

                                            >He says something, and Lyra's eyes dilate to an unbelievable size.

                                            >Fleur can't help but giggle at the poor girl's reaction.

                                            >Someday Lyra will share her foresight, but it's cute how she doesn't yet know how to read their Master.

                                            >On go all the restraints, the muzzle, the damper.

                                            >She'll need it, until she learns to control herself.

                                            >With eyes full of lust and fear, Lyra looks up at Anonymous, who only smiles back.

                                            >Stepping behind her, Fleur can hear the barest whimper across the room as her Master reaches under Lyra's tail.

                                            >Fleur lays back and waits, ears perked up.

                                            >A moan tells her that the first rod is in place.

                                            >A yelp assures her the second one is in as well.

                                            >A low hum, a moan, and footsteps.

                                            >Her Master should be back any-

                                            >Ah! He's back!

                                            >The bed sags beside her, and she's gently pulled up beside him.

                                            >For such a large, strong creature, Lord Anonymous is always careful and gentle.

                                            >She muses that most ponies he encounters don't know this side of Him.

                                            >Fools, all of them.

                                            >They could have such a better life if they knew to accept the natural order.

                                            >"The Beast" they call him, ignorant to all the great things he's done.

                                            >"Fleur?" he asks "Are you alright? Your heart's started beating faster."

                                            >"I was... thinking." she admits cautiously.

                                            >"Oh?" he presses "What are you thinking about that has you all worked up?"

                                            >"About the common ponies" she elaborates "How stupid most them are... "

                                            >"And this is news to you how?"

                                            >"It's not that...it's just, that, it is absolutely infuriating the way they speak of you!"

                                            >"Ah. Don't let it bother you- I dont'." he assures her. "Just more rewards for good ponies like you."

                                            >Any response Fleur might have made is cut off by the muted cries of Lyra as she crests her first peak.

                                            >A hand finds its way into Fleur's mane, accompanied by a low, masculine chuckle.

                                            >"Sleep, Fleur. You deserve some rest. Lyra's going to be a while."


                                            "I am afraid I don't follow, Master."

                                            >"I know it seems a bit, well, flippant. But I have my reasons."

                                            "But... candies, Master?" Fleur asks, unsure how to proceed.

                                            >"Yes, we'll be dabbling in candies for a bit. Queen Nightmare has been generous to me, but I have been looking over the treasury reports personally... I was surprised at how much I actually spend."

                                            "So this is a way to pay our way, Master?"

                                            >"Indeed. I knew you would grasp the concept quickly." he smiles.

                                            "Where do we begin, sir?" Fleur asks, beaming at the praise.

                                            >"Manehattan." he says with a grunt, hefting a small wooden crate onto the table.

                                            >It's marked 'Fragile' and is emblazoned with Lord Anonymous's seal.

                                            >He opens it and Fleur peers inside.

                                            >Nine familiar looking jars tightly packed so as not to jostle in transit.

                                            >Each jar is labeled with a cutie mark- one of them her own.

                                            >Seeing a harp etched into one of the lids jogs Fleur's memory.

                                            "Master, is Lyra coming with me?"

                                            >"Mhmm." he nods. "She's loading your things as we speak."

                                            >Fleur looks up and smiles warmly.

                                            "Thank you, Master!"

                                            >He just chuckles and scratches her ear.

                                            >"She's your protégé now, Fleur. Still mine, but entrusted to you."

                                            >Fleur examines the jars once more before turning back to her Master.

                                            "Does she also have our Itinerary, sir?"

                                            >"She does. Eager to leave me already?"

                                            "Oh no! Never, sir!" she exclaims, quickly throwing herself at his feet.

                                            >What if he's upset?

                                            >He could replace her with Lyra now, she's not trained, but neither was she when she started.

                                            >Why did she have to phrase it like that!?

                                            >Damn it all! Damn it all to Tartarus-

                                            >Wait...

                                            >He's laughing.

                                            >He was teasing us.

                                            >Fleur slowly looks up to see her Master's bright, smiling face.

                                            >With one hand he wipes a tear from his eye, while reaching down to tousle her mane with the other.

                                            >Crouching in front of her, he gets two arms beneath her and returns her to her hooves.

                                            >"I know you'd never leave me." he reassures her, before lightly slapping her flank. "Now get going."

                                            "Yes, Master!" she says with a smile before trotting out of the room.


                                            >Fleur sits, quietly fuming in the carriage as Lyra chuckles across from her.

                                            >In her haste to leave, she completely forgot the crate.

                                            >Idiot.

                                            >Master had sent it down only a moment after her, but she still felt foolish.

                                            >And now Lyra couldn't stop giggling like a little filly.

                                            >Mercifully they'd be landing shortly, which gave Fleur an excuse to speak up.

                                            "Get a hold of yourself, Lyra." she chided. "You mustn't lose composure when representing Master. We reflect him, and you wouldn't want me sending him a poor report."

                                            >"Okay, okay. I'm fine." she says, breathing slowly in and out.

                                            "Get your shoes on. We're almost there." Fleur instructs her, levitating her own ornate hoofwear from under her seat.

                                            >Sneaking a peak while fussing with the locks, Fleur is happy to see that Lyra's shoes, while also gold, are very simple.

                                            >Everypony in their place.


                                            >Not long after, the carriage touches down outside of the Plaza Hotel, and Fleur takes one last opportunity to primp, and to adjust Lyra's mane.

                                            >She may have caught Lord Anonymous's attention, but that didn't make her flawless.

                                            >She had much to learn about appearances.

                                            >But that is why Master entrusted Lyra to her.

                                            >Stepping out of the carriage, Fleur floats the keys to her and Lyra's shoes to the lieutenant in charge, and proceeds into the hotel.

                                            >After checking in they were led to adjoining suites on the Penthouse floor.

                                            "Lyra?" Fleur called after touring her abode. "When and where is our first appointment?"

                                            >"Uhhhh... it's in an hour. Aaaat some address."

                                            >Fleur sighs internally.

                                            >Lyra is such a commoner.

                                            "May I see the itinerary?"

                                            >"But Master gave it to meeee." she whines.

                                            "Fine." Fleur snorts in irritation before taking a slow breath. "The address then?"

                                            >"Here it is." Lyra says, stepping into the room.

                                            >She floats a scrap of parchment over to Fleur with an address scribbled on it.

                                            >Fleur makes a mental addendum: Lyra is a commoner with indecipherable hoofwriting.

                                            "Very well, Lyra." Fleur sniffs. "Go give this to the driver, then come and get me when it is time to leave."

                                            "Will do!" she smiles and turns to trot away.

                                            "Lyra." Fleur says, turning to go back into her rooms.

                                            >She can hear Lyra pause.

                                            "While we are out on business you will address me as Miss Fleur. Understood?"

                                            >Another pause.

                                            >"Yes, Miss Fleur."

                                            "That's a good pony." Fleur coos, and closes the door behind her.


                                            >Half an hour later Fleur descends the front steps and meets Lyra in the lobby.

                                            >The mint mare bounces with energy.

                                            >"Fleur! The carriage is here and ready to go!" she beams.

                                            >Fleur barely restrains an undignified grimace and nods, following Lyra to the carriage.


                                            >Once the door is shut and the noise of the city fades Fleur turns her attention to the overexcited mare before her.

                                            >How would Master approach this?

                                            >...how did he train her?

                                            >Of course.

                                            >One step at a time.

                                            >Well, two steps this time. It will have to suffice.

                                            "Lyra, I set down a rule earlier. Do you remember what it was?"

                                            >The mint mare furrows her brow in concentration as she searches her memory.

                                            "How are you to address me in public?"

                                            >"Ohhhh" she groans, realization dawning on her. "Miss Fleur."

                                            "Just now-"

                                            >"I'm sorry Miss Fleur, I'll remember next time."

                                            "You had better. I have one more rule, and you had better follow both of them when we reach our destination or you'll learn, as I once did, that there are more than merely culinary uses for ginger."

                                            >Seeing that she had Lyra's concerned, if confused, attention, Fleur laid down her next rule.

                                            "When you have something important to tell me, whisper it into my ear. Otherwise, remain silent. Master may have entrusted you with the logistics, but negotiations are still in my hooves."

                                            >At this news Lyra throws herself back against her seat and groans.

                                            "Lyra, you have much to learn. Observation is the first step."

                                            >Unconvinced, she proceeds to sulk, staring out the window.

                                            >How Fleur would love to make this mare walk the rest of the way.

                                            >But Master's business comes first.

                                            >But later...she will have to find a reason-ah, an idea!

                                            "Lyra, seeing as you believe that you already know how to act an Envoy of Anonymous, I'll be quizzing you upon our return to the hotel." Fleur states with an evil smile. "Pray you do not fail, pupil."


                                            >Lyra peppered Fleur with questions about the upcoming quiz, most of which she declined to answer.

                                            >All she let on was that it would be an oral exam, failure would merit unpleasant consequences, and the results would be shared with Lord Anonymous.

                                            >The carriage rolled to a stop, and the driver opened the door.

                                            >"B-but Fleur! How can I pass if I don't know what I'm going to be asked!?"

                                            >Stepping on the sidewalk, Fleur made a show of adjusting her mane while speaking in a low voice.

                                            "That is Miss Fleur, now that the door is open, Lyra. And you were the one who didn't think she needed instruction, surely you can pass a simple test?"

                                            >With a frustrated whimper, Lyra stepped out of the carriage and followed Fleur up the steps.

                                            >The house was a multistory brownstone in one of the cities wealthiest districts.

                                            >A maid answered the door and led them into a generously appointed sitting room.

                                            >While Lyra melted into the plush couch, Fleur walked the room, her years in Canterlot Society allowing her to appraise the art and decor with a trained eye.

                                            >Knowing the Oranges were relatives of the Apples of Ponyville had led her to believe there would be more folk and country influences in the home, but it seems that the Oranges have truly integrated into a more urbane society.

                                            >Only a few family photos from when relatives came to visit are left to note their roots.

                                            >"Ah, Miss Fleur? Mr. Orange will home shortly, he asked that I show you to his office?"

                                            "Please do." Fleur smiles, as Lyra trots up beside her.


                                            >The office is large and airy, with a monolithic black desk in the center. A few modern art pieces hang on the walls, and a wide window behind the desk overlooks the city.

                                            >The two chairs facing the desk match the minimalist atmosphere in both design and, to Lyra's dismay, comfort.

                                            >Fleur suppresses a giggle, watching Lyra squirm in her seat.

                                            >She, on the other hand, stood near the window, watching the ponies below.

                                            >Finally hoofsteps announce the arrival of Julius Orange.

                                            >Strolling through the door, he glanced at the two mares before taking a seat at his desk.

                                            >With a half-hearted apology, he gestured for Fleur to have a seat, but she demurred, standing between the seats instead.

                                            "You are clearly very busy, Mr. Orange. I shall keep this brief. Lord Anonymous requires a custom line of candies for personal reasons. We have the flavoring syrups with us, as well as a detailed list of what he wants and tentative recipes developed by a mare in his service with considerable experience in sweets. We will be in the city, awaiting estimates of cost. Do you have a quill? If so, Lyra here will be able to give you our contact information."

                                            >Thrown off by her abrupt demeanor, Julius fumbles through his desk until he procures a pad of paper and a quill.

                                            >With a nod, Fleur encourages Lyra to take the paper, and she scribbles down the hotel and their suite numbers.

                                            >"It- it will take several days for my engineers to draw up an estimate." he says, rising to take the address from Lyra's magical grasp.

                                            "We will be waiting. I always enjoyed Manehattan."

                                            >"Very well. I'll contact you as soon as it is done. I should get this started right away."

                                            >Fleur nods curtly, and strides from the room, a confused Lyra following.


                                            >The ride back to the hotel was silent, until they reached their floor.

                                            >"What happened back there?"

                                            "Ah, interesting. Well, since you asked, I will be generous and leave that out of your pop quiz, Lyra. Come in, please." Fleur answered as she unlocked her door.

                                            >Inside, Lyra sat on the couch while Fleur poured them both dainty glasses of sambuca.

                                            "I have learned a key lesson from Lord Anonymous, Lyra. Information is power." Fleur began, pausing to take a sip.

                                            >After savoring the floral and anise flavors, Fleur swallowed and pressed on.

                                            "We ponies saw knowledge as a means of furthering society: great inventions, leaps forward in medicine, feats of civil and industrial engineering... all of these things Lord Anonymous has a great interest in. But we never considered the power of information on a smaller scale."

                                            >Lyra nearly chokes on her first sip of the strong liqueur, and Fleur smirks.

                                            "Lyra, Lord Anonymous trusts me to represent him because I am acutely aware of ponies. I am an expert at manipulating them based on what I know about them personally. Reading ponies was essential in the entertainment and fashion industries in Canterlot. But to best use my skills, I need to know the pony."

                                            >Fleur suddenly turns to face Lyra directly.

                                            "Tell me Lyra, what did you think of Julius Orange's art collection?"

                                            >"Ech, it was very modern in his office, and the rest looked fancy and expensive."

                                            "Indeed. A very basic observation. Let's push deeper though. I'll start with the easy one. Why was his office so minimal?"

                                            >"It made the space seem empty, but huge."

                                            "A good start. It draws emphasis to the enormity of his desk."

                                            >"And the chairs were really uncomfortable! I bet he did that on purpose!"

                                            "He most certainly did, Lyra. Most people used to negotiations try to put the ponies across the table in a situation where they are distracted. This was Mr. Orange's way of doing that."

                                            >"Ohhh, that makes sense!"

                                            "Lyra, do you know anything about art or music?"

                                            >"I know tons about music, I was in the orchestra after all!"

                                            "Good." Fleur smiles gently "And art?"

                                            >"I never needed more fine arts credits at the Academy, so no, I don't really know anything about art."

                                            "That will have to change. But I am sure I can learn more about music from you. This next question will be difficult for you because of your lack of background, I'm afraid."

                                            >Lyra shifts uncomfortably as Fleur pours herself another.

                                            "What is the theme of his art collection, aside from what we've already established is a very modern office?"

                                            >"I have no idea. I didn't look that closely! I'm sorry!"

                                            "Yes, you probably are." Fleur muses. "The theme isn't immediately obvious. But if you examine the signatures, appreciate that they're all originals, then you begin to understand what kind of paintings Julius buys."

                                            >Lyra looks up expectantly.

                                            "Expensive ones."

                                            >"Oh come on, Fleur! I could have told you that! Everything there is expensive!"

                                            "Of course you can, that is what the Oranges want you to see! They want to hide their country roots and convince Manehattan that they're real urbanites, capable of rolling with high society!" Fleur exclaims back, downing her drink.

                                            "They have no idea how to actually assemble an art gallery of their own, so they simply go to showings and buy paintings that are obscenely expensive! They keep pictures of family because deep down in their hearts they can't let go, but they arrange things to keep outsiders from really looking at them! They're fakes, Lyra! A mere generation away from farmers! Every bit of interaction we will have with them is going to be about the facade, so keep your eyes open from now on!"

                                            >"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Lyra began to cry. "Please don't tell Master! I'll do better next time!"

                                            "Kiss my shoes." Fleur said, suddenly very quiet.

                                            >"W-what?"

                                            "The intricate golden shoes Lord Anonymous had hand-crafted for me, that I am currently wearing." Fleur elaborated. "Kiss them."

                                            >"W-why?"

                                            "Now."

                                            >"Y-yes Miss Fleur... just please-"

                                            "I'm waiting."

                                            >Lyra slid from her seat and, with unsure steps, approached Fleur.

                                            >Dropping to her knees, she kissed each of Fleur's front hooves.

                                            "And the back."

                                            >Lyra crawled silently behind Fleur and kissed the golden shoes on her hind hooves.

                                            >Fleur turned her head just enough to watch.

                                            "More tongue."

                                            >"Miss Fleur...?"

                                            "Your tongue. Use it. Lavish this gift our Master gave me with your finest attention."

                                            >At the invocation of Anonymous, Lyra's pupils shrank, and she reverently set to work dragging her tongue across the polished metal.

                                            >Fleur watched intently as Lyra moved from the first shoe to the second.

                                            >When the mint mare had covered every inch, Fleur stepped forward to let Lyra know she was done.

                                            "For now, you answer to me. And every night, we will discuss the day's events, and at the end of every evening, you will clean these shoes to a shine, just as you did now. Someday Lord Anonymous will see fit to elevate you from apprentice, and then, and only then, will this routine end. Understood?"

                                            >"Yes Miss Fleur." Lyra whimpered.

                                            "You have much to learn, and we have time until Mr. Orange works up a bid for us. In that time I will attempt to educate you on the ways of high society. Meet me back here in one hour, properly dressed and made up for dinner at Delmonicolts." Fleur instructed, then turned and walked into her powder room.

                                            >When she heard the door click shut, she peered back into the room.

                                            >Seeing Lyra was indeed gone, she locked the door to the bathroom, removed her shoes and stepped into the shower.

                                            >Images of Lyra worshipping her hooves danced in her head as Fleur levitated the shower head across her back and further, her tail beginning to lift.

                                            >This arrangement just might be worth it.


                                            >A bell rings gently as gilded shoes cross the threshold of the spa.

                                            >"Hello, Welcome to Cold Springs Resort! How can I help you?" a mare chirps happily from behind a desk.

                                            "Yes, my companion and I will be staying the weekend. I sent word ahead, two rooms, billed to Lord Anonymous."

                                            >"Oh! Of course, I should have realized-" the mare fumbles before recovering.

                                            >She grabs a pair of keys and sets them on the counter.

                                            >"Everything has already been taken care of by the Crown, Miss Fleur. Let me call a bellcolt to take your bags."

                                            "Excellent. We have an appointment at the gallery in town tonight, do you have a carriage or shall I call my own?"

                                            >"We can absolutely provide transport, Miss Fleur. Can I book it for you now?"

                                            >"How long does it take to reach town?" Lyra asks.

                                            >"It's only a ten minute ride to the gallery, fifteen to the harbor."

                                            >"We'll leave at seven o'clock then." the mint mare replies after a pause.

                                            >"Excellent. Please follow me to your rooms." the mare nods, scribbling down a note.


                                            >The rooms are actually suites, with views of the small town and the sea beyond.

                                            >A quaintly rural setting is the perfect backdrop for a long weekend of relaxation.

                                            >Over the past week, Fleur has run Lyra into the ground with lessons.

                                            >Art museums, wine tastings, dinners at the high end restaurants-

                                            >Fleur had attempted to cram as much of a high-class education as possible into her protégé.

                                            >It wasn't enough, but it was a start.

                                            >She had planned this weekend to test Lyra and gauge her progress.

                                            >Master expected to hear back from her on Tuesday.

                                            >He wanted a full report, his only stipulation for funding this little getaway.

                                            >After the bellcolt had delivered her things, Fleur went next door to check on Lyra.

                                            >To her credit, Lyra was muzzle-deep in a guide to the Cold Springs area.

                                            "Lyra, we have an appointment in ten minutes at the baths."

                                            >"Yes Miss Fleur." she says, hopping to her hooves. "Just reviewing a few things."

                                            >Fleur offers a genuine smile, then turns to lead the way.


                                            >As the two mares took a seat in the steam room, Fleur spoke.

                                            "So what do you know about this resort?"

                                            >Lesson One had been "Homework".

                                            >It was amazing how much a pony could fake just by doing a little research.

                                            >Obviously it wasn't enough for in-depth work or extended missions, but it would suffice until one got their bearings.

                                            >"Well, this is a very hard to access resort." Lyra began. "It has an exclusive guest list and a steep cost. Annual memberships can only be acquired if the staff chooses to offer it to the guest."

                                            "Mmm, and where did you learn that they offered memberships?"

                                            >"Four years ago the Oranges went from occasional guests to regular guests, but they paid only once. It was a large number."

                                            "How do you know they have to offer memberships?"

                                            >"I don't. I can only really assume they do, based on the Orange's financial records." Lyra explains. "But from what I have read, it's pretty normal for exclusive resorts like this have secret members clubs."

                                            "Indeed." Fleur giggles with a nod. "All of them do, it is just a matter of how well they hide it."

                                            >Fleur looks to Lyra again, and nods. The mare continues.

                                            >"The springs here are /supposed/ to have /special/ healing properties, but I, personally, am skeptical of that. Mostly the area is a retreat for Manehattan's upper-crust, with a couple resorts surrounding Cold Harbor. The one we're at is considered the best, but more business is conducted at the Elkhorn simply because it is more accessible."

                                            >Fleur nods as Lyra presses on.

                                            >"The Cold Springs resort was the first here, and has never expanded past the original thirty rooms and ten suites. This tends to create a waiting list. It is best known for its Classical-Style Baths and more run-of-the-mill spa treatments. It has no other amenities to speak of, but has a complimentary carriage service and a concierge with a lot of pull in town."

                                            "That sounds like a fair summation." Fleur agrees. "And I have broken a sweat. So it is time to head to the Caldarium."


                                            >In the roiling waters of the hot tub, Fleur turns to her pupil once again.

                                            "Tell me about the town, Lyra."

                                            >"Yes Miss Fleur. Cold Harbor is a typical resort town. It has a marina with no slips for anything smaller than a yacht, a dozen restaurants -three of them with Marechelin stars- and several streets full of galleries and boutiques. The town is run without question by the mayor, a loyalist from the start, and the four ponies of the town council. Queen Nightmare herself stayed here while visiting Lord Anonymous during the Siege of Manehattan."

                                            "That's good for us."

                                            >"How do you mean?" Lyra asked, cocking her head.

                                            "The town is only small because the Mayor keeps it that way, Lyra. It keeps prices up. Otherwise all this money strutting around would draw many more shops, all hoping to woo a wealthy patron. If the Mayor both controls business licenses and also adores the Crown, then those of us here on business for the Crown..."

                                            >"Ohh, I get it!" Lyra bursts. "But how do we use it?"

                                            "I don't know." Fleur responds with a shrug. "But it is good to be aware of things like that, because if we need a bit of leverage later, an opportunity might arise."

                                            "Riiight." Lyra groans. "Any tool available, so long as the job gets done."

                                            >Fleur simply lays her head back and chuckles.


                                            >Later, in the large, slightly warm, public pool, the mares settle in once more.

                                            >Fleur flags down an attendant and orders a bottle of wine.

                                            >Lyra makes a face at the selection and orders a bottle of her own.

                                            "Well, even if your pallet is far from refined, at least you have preferences." Fleur smirks.

                                            >"That red is so dry if you dumped it out it'd soak up the pool!"

                                            >Fleur can't help but laugh, and Lyra joins her.

                                            >"Isn't that Clementine Orange?" Lyra asks suddenly.

                                            >Following Lyra's gaze, Fleur confirms that it is, indeed, the wife of Julius Orange.

                                            >"We're here on business, aren't we?" Lyra groans.

                                            "Always." Fleur winks. "I suppose I'll let you in on it now, since the secret is blown. I want to see how well you've learned, and what I still need to teach you. So I have a little mission for you: I need leverage on Clementine Orange, which I will use to puppet her to help us with her husband."

                                            >She pauses as the attendant sets a tray beside them and pours a glass for each of them.

                                            >Once the mare retreats, Fleur takes a sip and continues.

                                            "I want you to get us that leverage on Misses Orange. She leaves for Manehattan on Monday, probably in the afternoon."

                                            >"Me? No no no, I don't think I can-"

                                            "Relax, Lyra. I think you're up for it, and if you get stuck, come to me and we'll figure it out together. Remember, I'm just trying to see how well I'm doing."

                                            >"Well, okay. If you say so." she answers nervously. "I'll do my best."

                                            "Take your time. It's only Friday."


                                            >Lesson 2 in the Fleur School of Subterfuge had been Reconnaissance.

                                            >It was the logical follow-up to homework.

                                            >Homework gave you the general picture, Reconnaissance was the art of filling in the specifics.

                                            >As such, Lyra was currently out at lunch with the mayor.

                                            >At the mint mare's request, Fleur herself was quietly tailing Clementine Orange.

                                            >Using a skill Lyra had yet to learn, Fleur had reached out through proxies to acquire her target's schedule for the week.

                                            >In an exclusive town like this, it was hard to tail somepony unless you were able to make the same appointments.

                                            >The pull of the Crown certainly aided in this aspect.

                                            >Currently Fleur was enjoying a nice caprese salad on the patio of one of the towns upscale cafes.

                                            >Clementine Orange sat at the table behind her, talking to a friend about her latest trip to the local bronze gallery.

                                            >As she sipped her wine, Fleur listened for anything useful.

                                            >A yacht slowly drifted into the harbor, and she turned her gaze to watch it come in.

                                            >Clementine's voice adopts a tone of frustration, and the white pony refocuses her attention.

                                            >It seems that Misses Orange is in a bidding war with another family over a sculpture of one of Manehattan's Founders.

                                            >Fleur makes a mental note to inform Lyra, and listens for any further details.


                                            >"So it's at the Copper Dragon Gallery, and it's of Clockwork, the first Industrialist to setup shop in Manehattan?"

                                            "That's what she said." Fleur nods, head leaned back as the attendant cleans her hooves.

                                            >"The other pony bidding must be Emerald Sea. Her husband owns the largest fishing fleet in the bay, but his family is from the mainland. Just like the Oranges, the Seas are trying to convince Old Manehattan that they're the real deal."

                                            "Oh, is Emerald in town too?"

                                            >"She leaves tomorrow."

                                            "Then Clementine will likely get the statue."

                                            >"Unless we enter the bidding war."

                                            "Lord Anonymous did not give us permission to spend so much, Lyra." Fleur warns.

                                            >"Absolutely. But if we don't really need the statue, we can always agree to bow out and let Misses Orange have her bronze... on the condition she does us a little favor."

                                            "Do you think she would cooperate over just that statue?"

                                            >"My meeting with Mayor Blackpool was enlightening." Lyra smirks. "The Oranges are one of a handful of social climbers that have shown that little is beyond them if they believe it will advance their standing."

                                            >Lesson three: Every pony has a weakness.

                                            "I'll let you have your leverage, though I will write to Master tonight to be sure he approves."

                                            >"Of course, Miss Fleur." Lyra says, smiling broadly. "I think I shall pay a visit to see this statue we're about to bid on."

                                            >As the mare finishes shining Lyra's hooves, she counts out a tip and hops out of her chair.

                                            >"Do we have dinner reservations?"

                                            "Seven O'clock. Prongs on Creek."

                                            >"Yes, ma'am."

                                            >As Lyra leaves, Fleur rings a bell on the stand, summoning the owner.

                                            >The owner enters, and Fleur tosses a small bag of bits to her.

                                            "Consider this room booked for the next two hours. Lock the door."

                                            >The owner nods and bows out, the door clicking locked behind her.

                                            >Looking down at the somewhat startled hooficurist, Fleur smiles before leaning back again.

                                            "Use your tongue."


                                            >The next morning, the two mares sit in Fleur's suite over breakfast.

                                            >"So Master approved the plan?"

                                            "Yes, with the assurance that we'll be working as waitresses in the palace to pay off the debt if we accidentally buy him 'a piece of scrap metal'."

                                            >"Oh." Lyra says, a little taken aback.

                                            "So don't screw this up." Fleur continues levelly.

                                            >"Okay, well, here's the plan. I found out that Clementine Orange has arranged to be at a late showing tonight for a few select guests. You will go and bid on the piece, and flaunt the fact that your bidding is backed by the Treasury. Once that's done, I'll handle the rest, negotiating a compromise."

                                            "It's a risk, but I think you're on to something. If nothing else, we simply let her outbid us and recalculate."

                                            >"Good. I've gotten you on the guest list already, doors open at nine."

                                            "Will there be wine?"

                                            >"And dessert. Complimentary."

                                            "Excellent."


                                            >At half past nine, a pair of gilded white hooves cross the threshold of the polished Copper Dragon, drawing some fair notice from the small number of elites meandering the gallery.

                                            >The artist himself is soon at her side, and spends some fifteen minutes fawning over the craftsmanship of her shoes.

                                            >With a flick of her tail, Fleur brings the young stallion back to the level, and he escorts her around the gallery.

                                            >Stopping at the bronze of Clockwork, Fleur puts on a show of interest.

                                            "This is of Clockwork, isn't it?" Fleur asks. "Founder of Manehattan Industry?"

                                            >"It is! I'm glad you've heard of him!" the stallion beams. "His foundry was the first real workshop in the city, and he developed a special bronze alloy that I used to cast the statue!"

                                            "An industrious stallion, someone Lord Anonymous would like."

                                            >"He not only built half of Manehattan, but revolutionized metalworking!"

                                            "An idol of yours?"

                                            >The stallion nods, a little blush on his cheeks.

                                            "No need to be embarassed. I think your enthusiasm is cute." Fleur smiles, letting her flank bump into him as she moves to look more closely at the statue.


                                            >Fleur proceeds to walk with the eager artisan around the gallery, and when they've walked the place, he beckons her into the back.

                                            >Expecting a proposition, Fleur braces to turn him down, only to find him uncovering a mold.

                                            >"I was saving this for the right moment, and this will suffice. What do you think?"

                                            >Before Fleur lie two molds, in fact.

                                            >One long one shows seven figures, Lord Anonymous and the six ponies sent by Celestia to stop Queen Nightmare. They are in chains, and he holds the chain as if offering it up.

                                            >The second is Queen Nightmare upon her throne, smiling down, obviously meant to be looking at Lord Anonymous.

                                            "You did one thing very right. Queen Nightmare must always be higher than anypony else. I appreciate that by casting their heads down, you further emphasize the order of power from the Queen, to my Master to the prisoners."

                                            >The stallion glows at the praise.

                                            "May I make a suggestion though?"

                                            >"O-of course." he stumbles.

                                            "No artist has yet even referenced the fact that Queen Nightmare subdued Celestia. It is as if she never existed. But given the size of these molds, an artist of your talent could easily carve such a scene into the blank panel of the side of the throne, here." Fleur explains, gesturing to the smooth space."

                                            >"I didn't ever think of that! I'll sketch some ideas right away!"

                                            "Well, don't forget your guests out in the hall."

                                            >"Oh! Right!"

                                            "How much for the Clockwork statue, by the way?" Fleur asks, leading the way back into the main room.

                                            >"Misses Orange and Misses Seas are both bidding on it, the price changes often for that reason.

                                            >The duo are now in the open, and not far from Clementine's friend from lunch the other day.

                                            "Well, whatever the cost, put me down for the next increment higher. Misses Orange will soon learn that her wealth is nothing next to the Treasury."

                                            >"Of course! I'll go let my seller know right away!" he says, scurrying off.

                                            >The mare from the other day casts a look at Fleur, and Fleur nods to her as she walks by.


                                            >The next morning, Fleur sends a letter to her Master while Lyra is out doing... something.

                                            >It makes her nervous allowing her apprentice such leeway, but Lyra has improved her skills greatly over the past few weeks.

                                            >She is also curious as to the contents of the crate that was delivered to Lyra's room ten minutes ago.

                                            >Nothing to do but wait.

                                            >Or visit the hooficurist one more time.


                                            >When she returns from her treatment, Fleur finds Lyra and a fidgety Clementine Orange sitting in her suite.

                                            "Lyra, Misses Orange, what a surprise."

                                            >"Clementine has agreed to help us persuade her husband to prioritize Master's project."

                                            >"I-I still don't know exactly what you w-want me to do-"

                                            >"In good time. Soon, even." Lyra cuts her off. "This, of course, is in exchange for us letting her have the statue and not bringing her niece to visit on a leash next Thursday."

                                            >Fleur can't help but smirk. She had nearly forgotten about Applejack.

                                            "So what's the plan, Lyra?"

                                            >"Clementine, just wait here, I need to walk Miss Fleur through the next steps."


                                            >Next door, Lyra has a camera set up, as well as...

                                            "You had Master send the Sybian?"

                                            >"I think we'll add another flavor to our line-up. The camera will help us remember today, and remind Julius of it too. I think a framed bondage-art series like this would do well in a Manehattan Gallery, don't you?"

                                            "That is not what I expected, but I won't deny your logic. I think Master will appreciate the initiative in expanding the flavors."

                                            >Lyra giggles, and Fleur joins her. Lyra then goes to fetch Clementine Orange.

                                            >Clementine is lead in, already blindfolded, and Lyra sets her just ahead of the machine.

                                            >Fleur locks the door as Lyra forcefully pushes the mare onto the seat, and locks her limbs in place.

                                            >A now panicked Clementine starts to protest, allowing for a ball gag to be put in place.

                                            >Using her magic, Lyra lines up the first rod, sliding the silicone member into the reluctant mare, eliciting a moaning whimper.

                                            >Which is followed by struggling and pleading as Lyra dabs a bit of lube on Clementine's other hole.

                                            >The pleading becomes higher pitched, and eventually a strangled whine as the second rod seats inside of Misses Oranges tight backdoor.

                                            "Don't forget this." Fleur chides, floating the collection jar over to Lyra.

                                            >"Oh! Thanks." Lyra says, taking it with her magic and sliding it into place.

                                            >With the flip of a switch, the sequence starts.

                                            >First the vibrating pad for her teats.

                                            >"Mmmm"

                                            >Then the rod in her marehood.

                                            >" Mmmm!

                                            >Followed by the little rabbit placed exactly perfectly to catch her clit when it starts to wink.

                                            >"Mph?"

                                            >...

                                            >!!!

                                            >The rod in her marehood picks up speed.

                                            >"MMMmmmmMMmmm"

                                            >And slowly the silicone stuffed in her sphincter slides into motion.

                                            >"EEEEEEeeeeeEEeee!!!"

                                            >It all happens over the course of a  few minutes.

                                            >Already the uptight socialite is leaking juices.

                                            >It won't take her long to fill the jars.

                                            >Fleur waits a few minutes while Lyra works the camera, and then she approaches the bound mare.

                                            >Removing the gag, Fleur looks into her panting prey's eyes, tail raised.

                                            "Tell me Misses Orange, do you like Moscato?"


                                            "Your husband is pushing the notion of fashionably late, Misses Orange."

                                            >"He'll be here! I promise! He's probably just caught up at work..."

                                            "Fifteen minutes and I throw the doors open."

                                            >The bound mare whimpers.

                                            >Fleur slowly drifts through the winding white passage.

                                            >The temporary walls featuring prints by a Ponyville photographer.

                                            >A twisting side-gallery leading to what the artist is calling a "live installation" piece.

                                            >Leaving Misses Orange at the end, Fleur soon finds herself standing at the opaque glass doors leading to the main exhibition hall.

                                            >The place is full of Manehattans upper-crust, here for a charity gala.

                                            >Samples of local collections allow the socialites to unapologetically flaunt their various treasures.

                                            >Carefully closing the doors behind her, Fleur joins Lyra in the main hall, eyeing the exquisite sculpture the Oranges recently added to their collection.

                                            >It has made quite a splash, and rumor is Julius and Clementine plan to loan it to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

                                            "I would have expected him to be here by now."

                                            >"My tail on him reports that he left his home ten minutes ago. I expect he will be here shortly, Miss Fleur." Lyra states matter-of-factly.

                                            "Good." Fleur snorts. "I hope not too soon though, I want Clementine to sweat it out a bit."

                                            >Lyra giggles.

                                            >"I suppose it would add a nice sheen to the installation piece."

                                            >Fleur replies with a giggle of her own.

                                            >A moment later, the duo are approached by a waiter.

                                            >"Pastries, madams?" he offers, lowering his tray. "Filo layered with walnuts and apricots in a buckwheat honey reduction."

                                            >Without hesitation, Fleur takes one of the proffered desserts.

                                            >Before Lyra reaches for one as well, the stallion leans in.

                                            >"He is currently talking to Mister Goldwing in the atrium."

                                            >Lyra takes her pastry, leaving a slip of paper on the tray.

                                            >The server saunters off through a service door as Lyra carefully savors her delectable sweet.

                                            "Bits, tail or both?"

                                            >Lyra chews before cheerily replying "Neither."

                                            "Neither?"

                                            >"Yup!" she beams, leaning in conspiratorially. "He's a guard, working to find the family that's funding the Underground. I needed a well-placed observer, he needed an way in."

                                            "How did you even find him?"

                                            >"He found me, actually. When you leased this space, he saw an opportunity."

                                            "Still, well done."

                                            >"Any tool available!"

                                            "Indeed. And Julius has arrived." Fleur nods in the direction of the orange stallion as he enters the room.


                                            >The two split up, flanking the statue of Clockwork.

                                            >As Mister Goldwing departs, Julius begins to walk in the direction of Lyra... until she waves over Emerald Sea and her husband.

                                            >Predictably turning up his nose at the group, Julius opts to walk the other direction, straight into Fleur.

                                            "Mister Orange, how delightful to see you."

                                            >"Er, Miss Fleur. I wasn't expecting the Crown to be represented tonight."

                                            "But of course, we're preparing to open a small exhibit here." Fleur explains. "Sadly, it isn't open to the public yet."

                                            >"Ah. A true pity it couldn't be completed in time for tonight."

                                            "Of course, seeing that you're working on a project for Lord Anonymous, I suppose I could allow you a private showing."

                                            >"I'm afraid I simply haven't the time tonight-"

                                            "No issue. Lord Anonymous also asked me to seek out High Seas about another project, and if I'm not mistaken that is him over there-"

                                            >"What could Canterlot want with that kelp farmer?"

                                            "I am not here to ask questions, merely to relay messages." Fleur smiles mildly.

                                            >"Perhaps we could delay that message while we peruse this gallery of yours?"

                                            "Of course. This way."

                                            >Leading the way past the doors, Fleur carefully locks them behind her.

                                            >The small antechamber merely has a pedestal with a bowl of orange candies on them.

                                            >Fleur giddily pops one in her mouth.

                                            >A light orange flavor, accented by notes of ginger and spice.

                                            >Julius furrows his brow as he tries to recall where he recognizes the flavor from.

                                            >The next room contains nothing but photo silhouettes.

                                            >All of mares.

                                            >All suggestive.

                                            >Julius does his best to feign disinterest.

                                            >Fleur smirks as she catches him ogling the scene of a mare muzzle-deep beneath another mares tail.

                                            >No time to reminisce now, however. Business is at hoof.


                                            >Before the next room is another bowl of hard candies.

                                            >A refresher.

                                            >Julius absentmindedly takes another as he moves past.

                                            >Letting him go ahead, Fleur listens as his hoofsteps abruptly stop.

                                            >She knows why.

                                            >Every silhouette was also shot with full and proper lighting.

                                            >She can imagine the shock on his face.

                                            >The horror of recognition.

                                            >And yet... arousal.

                                            >No stallion spends all his time at work if he has something to look forward to at home.

                                            >Even with all the luxurious comforts his wealth could afford, he preferred his office to his manse.

                                            >It only followed that Clementine was not taking care of her husband.

                                            >And as Fleur listens, she picks up soft hoofsteps.

                                            >As Julius Orange savors the scenes of submission.

                                            >Seeing Clementine in chains.

                                            >Seeing Clementine gagged.

                                            >Seeing Clementine smothered under another mare's flanks.

                                            >Seeing Clementine cleaning another mare's hooves with her tongue.

                                            >Seeing Clementine obey.


                                            >Carefully and quietly entering, Fleur glides past Julius Orange and beckons him into the next to last room with her tail.

                                            >Obediently he follows.

                                            >Both walls show the same image here.

                                            >Clementine riding the Sybian.

                                            >In the center are more candies.

                                            >However, this time they are simply piled around a glass jar.

                                            >A jar filled with a clear, viscous fluid.

                                            >The sealed top bears a sticker with Clementine Orange's cutie mark on it.

                                            >Julius pops another, sucking on the sweet as he slowly begins to fathom what the room implies.

                                            >Lyra peers in from the previous room, and Fleur nods.

                                            >As if nothing was amiss at all, Lyra trots through, helping herself to a candy as she passes by.

                                            "The artist, Mister Orange." Fleur explains, nodding in the direction Lyra went.

                                            >He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again.

                                            >Words seem difficult for him.

                                            "Shhh. I understand. It is a breathtaking exhibit." Fleur coos.

                                            >He simply stares at her.

                                            "Come. The live installation should be ready by now."

                                            >His lips mouth the words "live installation" as she leads him onwards, his mind unable, or unwilling, to grasp their meaning.

                                            >In the final room, Clementine Orange is placed on a dais, all lights on her.

                                            >Suspended by her forehooves, a blindfold keeping her in the dark, and her legs are locked to the ground -straddling the sybian once more.

                                            >Lyra and Fleur push up against Julius, slowly herding him around to the back side of the room.

                                            >A simple control panel lies under a locked cover.

                                            >Lyra climbs onto the dais, and removes the blindfold as Fleur levitates a key in front of Julius Orange.

                                            >"Jules!" Clementine exclaims.

                                            >The stallion looks up at her.

                                            >Then at the key.

                                            >Then at Clementine again.

                                            >Then at Fleur.

                                            >Then at Lyra.

                                            >Then at Clementine.

                                            >"What deal have you made?"

                                            >"I-I did it for us! To get-"

                                            >"For the statue!? All of this!? For a thrice damned statue!?"

                                            >"But Jules, I had-"

                                            >"What in land's sake were you thinking!?"

                                            >"I couldn't just let Emerald Seas win!"

                                            >Fleur and Lyra hold to the back wall as the couple delve into a full-on shouting match.

                                            >"When you told me you had made a bargain with the crown, I thought you meant the idea to loan the statue out!"

                                            >"It's not my fault you made that assumption!"

                                            >"Is there anything you /won't/ do for station?"

                                            >"Julius, please! This is what we wanted! We're finally being accepted!"

                                            >"No, this is what you wanted! I'd be happy back on the mainland, back where we came from, back where we fit in! But you-"

                                            >"Julius! Not in public!"

                                            >"Hmph." he snorts, climbing the pedestal towards her.

                                            >They exchange some words beyond Fleur's ability to hear.

                                            >After a moment or two, Clementine and Julius appear to be making up.

                                            >Fleur decides that isn't in their best interest.

                                            "Julius, a word?"

                                            >"What? Oh, of course." he says, turning from his suspended wife.

                                            >Clementine whines a little, and gazes over with big, sad eyes, helpless.


                                            >"What ransom will it take to free my wife?" he sighs.

                                            "You should know that already." Fleur frowns. "We're simply trying to get Lord Anonymous' project moving forward."

                                            >"All this, over those candies!?" he asks, exasperated.

                                            >"Not entirely, Mister Orange." Lyra answers. "We also wanted to spare you."

                                            >Julius cocks his head.

                                            >"Spare me?"

                                            >"Yes. You see, I know you're sympathetic to the underground." Lyra nods sadly.

                                            "As are many of the families here." Fleur adds.

                                            >"But we need good ponies, strong ponies, like you." Lyra says, leaning into him.

                                            "Ponies like you are supposed to lead the way, not oppose us." Fleur elaborates, mirroring Lyra.

                                            >"So while Mister Goldwing and his friends are being arrested, you and your wife are here."

                                            "With us."

                                            >Julius stares blankly ahead, sweat beading on his brow.


                                            "Now we know how much you want to climb the social ladder, so no one blames you for being friends with some of those old Manehattanites."

                                            >"But Old Manehattan dies tonight." Lyra says flatly. "You can go with them, or help us establish the New Manehattan."

                                            >"W-what do you want from me?" he asks, almost afraid of the answer.

                                            >"Nothing difficult, not yet." Lyra reassures him.

                                            "For tonight, we have a /very/ simple proposition for you, Mister Orange."

                                            >"This key" Lyra says, now holding it aloft in her magic "opens the control box right there."

                                            "It's all yours for the night." Fleur says. "A token of Lord Anonymous' goodwill."

                                            >"However, we expect that his small confectionary enterprise will receive the attention it deserves after tonight."

                                            "In time, the Crown may ask you to assist in further projects."

                                            >"Think of it, you can be Canterlot's preferred manufacturer." Lyra whispers, nuzzling the stallion.

                                            >"I'm not sure-"

                                            "If you need motivation later though, Clementine will be arrested and returned to this room, and the gallery will be opened to the public."

                                            >"I assure you, that won't be necessary. The candies are not an issue, it's just-"

                                            "So I can report that the candies will finally begin production?" Fleur asks.

                                            >"I'll start retooling one of the lines for Lord Anonymous tomorrow." he nods. "But what projects does he have in mind? What are you pushing me into?"

                                            >"Nothing nefarious."

                                            "Lord Anonymous wants to restore Equestria to greatness. And he needs strong stallions that take what they want to lead the way."

                                            >"Stallions like you." Lyra insists.

                                            "Now Jules..." Fleur says softly "Are you a stallion who knows what he wants?"

                                            >"Walk me through these controls."


                                            >It's a peculiar sound that follows the duo as they leave the installation.

                                            >First Julius had begun turning features on.

                                            >Starting with her teats.

                                            >Then he watched intently as the rod parting her lips lurched to life.

                                            >"Jules, please! Please don't!"

                                            >With a wicked grin, he had engaged the rod impaling her rear.

                                            >"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY JULES!"

                                            >Curiously he turned on the teaser for her clit, then turned it off.

                                            >On

                                            >And off.

                                            >And on.

                                            >Finally, he left it in place, apparently happy with some inner decision.

                                            >He then lowered the chains, so that she leaned far forward.

                                            >Slowly he had ramped up the speed of the two rods, until his wife was a panting, moaning, dripping mess.

                                            >In between gasps, she continued pleading with her husband.

                                            >She begged to be let down.

                                            >But he just increased the speed a bit more.

                                            >"Always an excuse. Why we need this. Why we need that." he sneered, climbing onto the dais.

                                            >Standing in front of her, he began whispering in her ear.

                                            >Her eyes became pinpricks, and she shook her head violently.

                                            >"Nonononono!" she whined. "Jules, please!"

                                            >"My time is precious. You have ten minutes." he replied.

                                            >Sensing their job was finished, Fleur had beckoned Lyra to follow her out.

                                            >As they made their way out, Julius took hold of the chains, pulling himself upright in front of his wife.

                                            >Casting a quick glance behind her, Fleur catches a look of defeat on Clementine's face as she opens her mouth.

                                            >The pair walks in silence until they make it to the silhouette room.

                                            >Barely audible now are the sounds that had followed them through the gallery.

                                            >"It is amazing she can moan, gag and beg all at once."

                                            "Clementine Orange is a very talented mare."