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1211 6.91 KB 131
1211 6.91 KB 131
Butter Cookies and Cream, by Rupture Through Space And Time
By SlavePonyGeneralCreated: 2020-12-30 22:14:17
Expiry: Never
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[Copied from https://pastebin.com/MsnnmBG0]
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>"Gidd'yup, Master!"
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>The charming daily mantra spoken by a sweet, soft voice is undescribable.
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>And the smell of lavender roses dancing all around your nose...
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>The bubblegum-pink-maned sweetheart that's taking care of you ever since last night is the closest thing to perfection.
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>Fluttershy.
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"Uhh... excuse me, Master? You need to wake up... if you want to, I'm not pushing you, really... but you need to go to school, and..."
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>As she rambled on about your scholarship duty, you continue your own golden nap.
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>Thy sleep is far above from sacred for thou.
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>"Master?"
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>But after all...
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>"MASTER!?!?"
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>Your wonderland is one dream away...
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>You suddenly feel something slippery rushing through your forehead alongside an avalanche of hard breathings and sobs.
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>You broke her down to tears.
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>Now you ruined it.
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>All you could hear is "P-Please...Something..."
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>The rest is inaudible.
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>You really didn't want to harm anyone, did you?
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>With that said, extending an arm out of the blankets, you wrap the yellow damsel in mistress.
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>You reach one of her ears and whisper...
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"Sorry, it's all right darling... easy, easy..."
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>While slowly running your hand through her mane, she slowly ceases crying.
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>That was one hell of a wake-up, was it?
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>A minute after, her sorrow tears comes to a full end.
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>In that exact moment, you finally open your eyes, and talk to her softly...
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"I'll wake up, sweetheart. Go and make me breakfast in the meantime, please."
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>She nervously nods and leaves.
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>And was also dressed in that small french maid outfit you said you loved at the store yesterday.
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>It really fits in every curve and line of hers.
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>You really want to fuc...huh?
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>You check the time.
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>It's tuesday.
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>Not even close to weekend.
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>Why it has to be so painful?
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>Rushing one floor below, you search for the kitchen.
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>Blame your house for being way too big for you.
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>Until Fluttershy calls in...
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>"Breakfast served, Master!"
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>And that's your compass to this known but yet unknown sea.
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>After a bit of rush in through some places, you finally manage to find the yellow maid you were looking for.
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>She was carrying a plate filled with chocolate-chip cookies over her barrel, and without even one falling out of it.
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>God praise that small bastard...
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>Or should he? A cookie from the plate abruptly falls, but you're quick enough to catch it mid-air.
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>While you put it back in its place, you attempt to adjust some chairs for her to accomodate herself.
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>Yeah, he should...no, he MUST.
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>Silently you grab one of those precious treats while Fluttershy's not looking.
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>Slow and steady, not to look suspicious-
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>SHE'S TURNING AROUND!
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>And all of a nervous sudden, hiding your arm underneath the table, she begins to count the cookies with an incredibly suggestive look.
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>I-It's not like you took the whole thing, we were going to eat them anyways...
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>"Masteeeer~"
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"Yeah?"
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>Inching closer to you, she whispers to your ear...
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>"I see you took one..."
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-------
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>Night.
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>The darkest of them all.
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>So dark cold and dull colors lurk from the shadows.
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>Light? There is no such thing on a time like this.
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>It was about time to get on your couch to watch at live TV who was the winner of A Day With Melody.
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>Long story short, you're a fan of classic music.
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>...More of a modern classic, like mixing hats and snares with pianos and violins.
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>The only pers...pony in the world to ever pull off that sort of thing and still keep enough of both is her.
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>Octavia Melody.
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>The thing is, you signed for this yesterday...what? You were bored and Fluttershy was out for groceries, what could you do?
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>*And the winner is...*
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>Eagerness, desire and hope fills your soul, neverending joy wanting to be released, should the winner be you.
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>Octavia takes a paper out of a bag with her muzzle, shuffling it to give bigger chances for anybody.
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>She presents it to the host, who takes it away from her and shows the paper to the camera, available for the world to see the name of...
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>..."Anon. E. Moose"...
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>...
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>...This is the calm before a storm...
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>...
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>YES! YES! YOU DID IT! YOU FREAKING WON!
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>Unmeasurable amounts of joy, pride and good moods kick the darkness of the room away.
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>Screaming in pleasurable agony, you call out for Fluttershy, but to your surprise, nobody came.
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>BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER!
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>WHAT MATTERS NOW IS THAT YOU WON. PERIOD.
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>*Well, 'cough' Anon, you'll find Octavia by tomorrow morning at your home, Congratulations and see you in the next weekend everybody!*
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Turning the television off, you lay across the couch with a psychopath-like ear-to-ear smile.
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>Sweet dreams, flutter...butter...
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>The chirping warning beep of your alarm bursts through your ears...wait.
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>You don't have morning alarms.
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>Fluttershy wakes you up every morning.
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>Could it be...?
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"Right up! One sec!"
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>Adjusting some of the most obvious flaws from after sleep, you reach for the door and pull it open to present you...
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>...That's right. Octavia freaking Melody.
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>Light purple eyes wrapped in a grey coat, black hair tipping at the top of her head, a small purple treble clef stamped on her flank.
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>Carrying a cello on her barrel, she gives you a warm smile and speaks with a soft, french accent...
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>"Hello, monsieur Master."
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>...
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>Where are the positive outcomes when you need them the most?
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>You stare at her in disgust, wincing and running your fingers through your head, stressed out.
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>Where did the contract say that Octavia has to actually BE yours now.
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>Oh, might as well ask.
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"..."
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>This is literally your deepest dream. Why question the how or why of the state? Enjoy it!
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>You give her a darkened grin and let her in.
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>"I want to hear one of your songs, please."
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>"Which one?"
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"Any."
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>Make me choose, sir."
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>Her light red tint on her cheeks and cute sad look plus an innocent hoof on her chin is enough for you to work that out.
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"Do Charming Midnight."
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>"Yes, Master."
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>Everytime Octavia calls you 'Master' or 'Sir' sends chills through your prejudiced spine.
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>Like she CHOSE to be a slave.
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>She AGREED to this.
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>...
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>...Fluttershy didn't.
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>She'd cry, she'd whine, she'd moan and tremble her way through her work and punishment, either she wanted or not.
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>Octavia looks fearless, and disguises that with cute and sad looks.
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>If you were to punish her, she'd never bat an eyelid.
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>That's the feeling you get when you look at her, and how she speaks. You can see through her.
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>"Can you give me the head start, sir?"
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"Now."
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>And without a vocal response, and with her cello standing next to the wall, she jumps her forelegs off the floor and tries to keep balance with her hindlegs.
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>And takes in the attempt of walking.
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>Or so you thought. She abruptly sets her weight on the wall, leaving her forelegs there, on the floor.
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>And begins to move like that towards the cello.
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>In the meantime, she swishes her tail once or twice, leaving her bits and pieces absolutely exposed some of the times.
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>To be honest, you'd take her from the back raw.
by SlavePonyGeneral
by SlavePonyGeneral
by SlavePonyGeneral
by SlavePonyGeneral
by SlavePonyGeneral