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