You are a Human in Equestria, and it's been a little too long. So when you see a sad looking mare with a cardboard sign offering herself for sale, you take her offer a little more seriously than you ever thought you would.
Written in response to a post on /mlp/ only because I haven't written anything in a while.
You're a successful business human in Equestria, but something has been lacking these past few years. Namely physical affection. Looking to get some action, you decide on a most unlikely plan. Hiring a whore. And you just happen to know where you might find one.
She's always in her box, that muddy brown earth pony. And she always has that sign. The mare was blind, you can tell that by her glossy eyes, and somepony else must have written the sign for her. Sitting on the edge of the road, out on the edge of town. It's like she wants to be seen, but doesn't want too many ponies to see her. You guess that from here she mostly gets travelers instead of town ponies.
You've seen her before plenty, but you've never seen anypony take her up on the offers on her sign. It had been a while since coming to Equestria, and you've had a certain ache, but it's never been strong enough to make you approach her.
Being human in an all pony world had it's downsides. Nopony found you attractive, and you had lived a single life, not knowing the touch of another for the past few years. Your ache acts up, a little stronger than normal. Nopony has removed her from here, so it must be okay. Surely nopony would begrudge you for indulging in her offer this once.
"Excuse me, miss. I may be interested in purchasing your services. I'd just like to check that you know what's on your sign, right?" You had to be sure this wasn't a cruel prank played on a hapless pony after all.
She shuffles nervously, and responds quietly. "It's... 5 bits. 5 bits for me to give you a hoofjob." She closes her eyes, and tears start to leak from her shut lids. "10 bits for a full service. I'll use... my whole body on you." She sniffles a a bit, and turns her head towards her box, away from you as she spoke. "And for 20 bits, I'll let you do anything you want." You hear her tail swish back and forth in the box, perhaps at some memory. "Anything at all..."
Well, her attitude is a little off, but what she's offering is exactly what you were looking for. You quickly scan the area to make sure nopony is watching, and find it decidedly pony free. What the hell, you have bits to burn right now.
You crouch down to get close to her. "Are you open to any sort of negotiation right now, miss?"
"I... haven't eaten in a few days. And all I have to drink is this puddle. I'd be willing to... barter for food..." She sounds desperate, and you can hear her voice falter. She is on the edge of crying.
Well, you had nothing going on for the rest of the day. Maybe you should make the most of it.
"Miss. I have a proposition for you. If you follow me to my house then I will feed you, and give you something a little more substantial than a puddle to drink. I will also pay you a sum of 180 bits." Her ears picked up at the mention of food, and you can see her empty eyes peer at you with the prospect of that many bits. You smile at her sudden eagerness. Maybe you can turn her attitude around.
"Of course, for this transaction, I will be taking advantage of your 'anything' offer for the duration and I would require you to spend the rest of the day and the entirety of the night with me. If you stay till sunrise, I'll even cook you some breakfast.” You can see her start to drool at the prospect of food. This little blind pony will be eating out of your hand before the night was over, and you were going to enjoy it.
She shuffles a bit, and stands herself up. Now that she is standing you can get a good look at her. She's a bit on the skinny side, but not completely emaciated. She seems young, but not too young. If she was a human, you'd think early 20s. You can tell that maybe once she had been a more fit pony, but due to recent circumstances her condition seems a little worse off. Her coat looks greasy, the same as her straggled mane. Perhaps the strangest thing about her is her lack of a cutie mark. How odd.
“I'll also offer you the chance to bathe. I'll... accompany you of course.” A bath would be necessary before you let her into your bed. She seems conflicted, and stays quiet for a moment
Being so close to having your desires fulfilled, you begin to really smile. This started out as curiosity, grew into a fantasy, and now you are really going to do it. Your going to pay a pony to suck your cock and let you fuck her and use her all night long. Just because you are bored and have the bits that she so desperately needs.
You should feel sick and depraved, but in a way you feel righteous. Nopony has romantically given you the time of day since you got here, so fuck them. Here is a lost little pony just looking for some bits and you are buying what she is selling. It's perfectly fine and if anypony has anything to say about it, well they can go buck themselves. Because that's what you've been doing for the past few years.
Lost in your own fantasy, you barely catch her response. “O... Okay...” The pony seems defeated. She closes her eyes and turns her head to the ground. “Just let me put my sign in my box.”
And now you've successfully hired an equestrian whore. You smile as you respond. “Sure. But there is one thing you need to know about me first.” You don't think it will be a deal breaker, but you'd rather know now then later. “I'm not a pony. I'm a different creature. A human.”
She puts her sign in the empty cardboard box and sighs. “It really doesn't matter to me anymore mister. I can't turn down your offer. Besides, I can't see what you look like anyways.” She sounds despondent, almost disconnected now as the reality of her decision has sunk into her.
Your grin reaches shit eating proportions. “Well, can you follow me? Or shall I lead you somehow?”
“I can just bite your tail mister, and you can lead the way. That's how I usually get about.” She stands patiently, waiting for something to grab onto.
“That isn't going to work with me. I don't have a tail. You can walk next to me, and I'll rest my hand on your back to nudge you one way or the other, alright?” She gulps a little at the strange request.
“Sure mister.” You walk over to her and place your hand on her, gently tugging her to your side where she heels like an obedient dog. You could get used to this.
“You're very tall... and feel strange.” She seems nervous again, rethinking your alien biology.
“Well, we all have our differences. I don't know why you're in this business, but I can quickly tell you why I'm a customer in it. Nopony wants to be with me because I'm human. And Ponies just don't seem to find humans attractive. So I'm a lonely man, or as you would say, stallion.” You can feel just a little bit of bitterness creep into your voice.
You see her visibly cringe. “I'm sorry for bringing it up mister. I think I know how it feels when people bring up things you'd rather not think about.” She seems genuinely concerned that she may have upset you. Cute. But you aren't spending a day and a half's worth of bits on her for moral support.
“Come on. Lets go.” You lead her away, taking the back route to your place so no one see's your new guest. She follows quietly and closely, never losing contact with your hand.
The first thing you do when you get to your place is offer her a seat at the table. She's hungry and a little weak, and for what you're planning she's going to need some energy.
“Here. Have an apple.” You put it on the table right in front of her. You also grab a glass and pour some lemonade. You make sure to mix in a little extra sugar, she's going to need the carbohydrates and the fluid.
The pony hungrily sniffs the apple, and then slowly starts to eat it. It's obvious she's holding herself back, savoring the flavor. You watch as she bites a chunk of it out and rolls it in her mouth, sucking the juices out of it. She carefully chews her bite to a fine pulp and then swallows, taking a moment to breathe in and out a little. “Thank you for...” She starts to cry a little.
“Are you alright there?” You want to make sure she's not hurt, she seems a little more delicate sitting in your kitchen crying than she had been in that box.
She sniffles a bit, and calms down. “I'm sorry. I just haven't had fresh fruit in a long time. Most of what I eat is usually rotten. It's all I can usually beg off ponies.” You sigh. Ponies were a strange lot. Kind and generous most of the time, they were really stuck on haggling and bartering things. It was why you didn't see many pony beggars.
Once you had something to barter, be it a service or a product of some sort, you could usually get them to be very generous. It's one of the reasons your business did so well, you were a cutthroat human. But most ponies would never consider giving away free anything unless they feel they had slighted the other in some way. It would make sense that a pony would “graciously” throw out their bad food to a hungry beggar, avoiding the social faux pas of giving away something for nothing.
You need to get this show back on track. “Don't worry about it. Plenty more where that came from. And I plan on having a real dinner with you later. I just wanted to give you something to get your energy up. Speaking of which, you should drink this lemonade. It's a little better than muddy water.” You put the cup down next to her half eaten apple.
She holds back a heavy breath, and then takes a sip of the drink before she takes a big gulp. “Thank you.”
“Don't thank me yet, miss. This is a trade.” You gently try to steer the conversation towards why you brought a muddy earth pony into your home to begin with.
Her face seems to harden as she remembers that this isn't entirely an act of kindness. “Of course...” She eats her apple a little faster, and washes it down with the rest of the lemonade.
You watch her eat, and ponder what exactly you are going to do with your little whore tonight. Well, you should probably clean her up first. Of course, she doesn't need to be clean for you to look at the goods.
As she finishes the lemonade, you stand up and walk around the table until you're next to her. “Alright. Lets start with a little peek. Stand up, and put your tail to the side so I can see what you have going on down there.”
She silently gets up and stands next to your dining room table, facing away from you. As she moves, you can see the resignation in her face. Her dirty tail swishes from side to side for a moment, and then raises itself up and to the left, providing you a full view of all her delicate pony parts. You smirk at how quick she complied.
Her pony pussy is relatively clean compared to the rest of her coat. She must occasionally wash it in that mud puddle. The lips are dark and large, her pussy being comparatively big for her size. She has a large nub of flesh at the bottom, and a tight puckered hole on top just beneath her tail. Well, if her pussy is going to be too loose, then at least there's always her asshole.
“Huh. Neat. Come on, lets go upstairs. I have a shower where we can get clean.” You watch as she slowly and carefully lowers her tail. When you put your hand on her to lead her, she shudders but you don't think much of it. You probably just surprised her is all.
“This way.” You take her to your bathroom, and direct her to the shower. “Alright! Do you like the water hot or cool?”
“Hot please...” She answers quietly, almost like she's not really paying attention.
“Hot it is then. I'm going to get it warmed up.” You turn the water on, and step out of your clothes. Ponies never seem to mind your nudity, so it doesn't seem to matter if you tell her you're undressing. Putting your hand in, you find the water is pleasantly warm, now is a good time to get in.
“Step this way, miss!” You cheerfully guide her towards the shower, instructing her to step over the tile lip that guards the water basin inside. She seems to enjoy the water, briefly smiling as she faces directly into the spraying nozzle and closes her eyes.
You step in with her and grab some jasmine scented soap. You always thought the scent was soothing, so having a little in your shower helped after a rough day. You gently put some on her back, and begin to rub it in, letting it lather up and carry the dirt and grime away. She shuffles awkwardly as she tries to keep her balance.
You dig your fingers in a little, working the soap into the hide under her fur, getting her a deep cleanse. She sharply sucks in a breath in response, but makes no move to stop you. “Nice, isn't it?”
She has a hard time answering as you keep scrubbing her down, working your hands up to her shoulders and neck. “Ye...Yeah...”
You can feel her start to relax a little, start to let go of that burden she seems to always be carrying. For the moment, she isn't a whore. She's just a mare getting a good cleaning in your shower. As for you, you enjoy the touching.
Feeling her skin and making her respond to your touch is nice. There's no awkward stare or weird pause when your hands touch her, rubbing deep into her fur, lathering it up and massaging it. Instead of a glare or a quick jump away, there's a sharp intake of breath when you hit a good spot and a gentle sigh after. It's nice just being with somebody like this, pony or otherwise. You suddenly realize just how lonely you've been, and how desperate you've become.
As you continue to cleanse the mares body, removing her dirt and grime, you feel a building wall of shame. This pony is a person. A person with hopes and dreams, likes and dislikes. And you've been planning on treating her like a piece of meat. You think back to how she shuddered every time you've touched her. How she looked so lost and forlorn. How she cried over a simple piece of fruit, an off handed gesture of kindness. You think about how desperate she was when you found her.
This is a person so bad off that she's willing to sell her dignity. It's clear she doesn't enjoy this, you've observed that much. You've just been ignoring it, being too busy thinking about getting your rocks off. While she suffered for your amusement. Your excitement ebbs. It would take a real asshole to keep doing what you've been planning on doing. You look intently at her face. Right now though, she's enjoying this. This is something she's loving, and you know what? You like it too.
You put a little more effort into scrubbing the back of her neck, moving up to her mane. You see her start to get a far away contented smile. Working your fingers into her scalp, you start massaging the soap into her skin, pressing your digits tightly against her flesh. Her coat is looking cleaner, glossier and healthier. And her face doesn't look so worn. As you finish washing the grime out of her hair, you gently coax her into turning around to face you.
“Look... I've been thinking.” She turns her head up to face you as the hot water runs down her back. You can see a change in her demeanor, a slight downcast sensation as she remembers where she is and what's been going on. She remembers what she agreed to do. What you wanted her to do. You can't bear to see her mood change like that, it breaks your heart as her face goes from the happily dreaming person back into the broken mare you originally brought in. “I... Don't think this is going to work out.”
She speaks up, nearly interrupting you. “I'm sorry. I got a bit carried away there. Please, I need the bits.” You can hear the edge in her voice, the nervous fear.
“But this is... You don't want this. This is wrong.” You stand up straight and look down at her. She's a quarter your size, easy.
She lifts a hoof, and for the first time, she touches you of her own volition. Her hoof is warm and much softer than you'd think. It comes to rest on your thigh, and she feels around with it as she speaks. “I was the pony with the sign, advertising.” You see her harden her face in thought, and you feel her hoof explore up your stomach a little, and then back down. “And you. You're the weird tall creature that other ponies think is ugly.”
Ouch. That hurt. It's one thing to know you're ugly, but it's completely another to have somebody call you ugly. She keeps talking as she moves her hoof over your groin and lets it come to a rest. She had it on your cock. “But you know what? I can't see you, so as far as I can tell you're just another voice. And you wanna know what else?”
Her sudden change of demeanor is confusing, and you barely have time to ask, “What?,” to her rhetorical question before she speaks up again.
Her face loses all emotion and her voice becomes monotone as though she is stating one of the very simple rules of the universe. “I'm a whore.”
You don't even have time to think before she leans forward and takes your flaccid dick entirely into her mouth.
Holy shit.
Her tongue is like wet velvet, strong and soft at the same time. It runs down your length and presses at the base of your shaft where your balls hang. Her lips tighten around you, holding your member steady while her tongue starts to move, massaging and coaxing your little prick into a much larger and more erect cock.
You grab the sides of her head as she works your cock with her mouth. It's been so long since your dick has had any action other than your hands that you're fully erect in moments, your throbbing cock getting a wet bath as it grows. She pulls her mouth off of your dick with a wet squelch, and moves to your ball sack, licking and suckling on your dangling package as your cock rests on her cheek.
You realize that you have completely misidentified this wayward pony. She isn't just a whore, she's a very experienced whore. Working slowly, she nibbles from your sack up the underside of your cock, teasing and gently pulling on your skin with her strong lips and leaving little red marks from the suction.
As she gets to your tip, she slowly pushes her tightly closed mouth over it and presses her tongue tightly against it, making it feel like you're penetrating something. As you bottom out in her mouth, you realize that your cock has to be at least a little down her throat, probably a lot more than a little. And then she swallows.
You actually shudder as your cock tip is squeezed, and the undulating movement presses warm and wet flesh up your shaft. She keeps the sensation up all the way to your base by using her tongue to compress you as she breathes hotly into your groin. You aren't going to last, this intense session is way too much for your long forgotten libido.
“Stop... Whoa... Hold up a second there...” You gasp for breath as you hold your orgasm back, and she lets go of your dick with a wet plop.
“Did you enjoy that?” She asked curiously.
You take a moment to collect, letting your body's excitement ebb just a little, getting yourself under control. “You... are very good at that.”
She leans into your groin, resting her nose right next to your erect cock. Her voice remains neutral, and she expresses no emotion as she responds. “I told you. I'm a whore.” You can feel her tongue hanging out of her mouth after she speaks, and it's long. Without moving her head, she licks from your inner thigh, to just behind your dangling sack.
You ruffle the hair on her head. Fuck it. She got over her hangups, you can too. “You're a dirty little pony.” You say with amazement.
Her tongue slowly pulls back into her mouth, leaving a trail of saliva around one side of your sack. Her voice sounds far away as she speaks. “I haven't been dirty yet. This is dirty.”
You feel her nuzzle down under your sack, and then you feel her tongue again, licking your taint and moving carefully towards your asshole. The tongue wetly parts your cheeks, and strokes across your tightened pucker. You had not expected this. The little mare was full of surprises it seemed. The sensation is something you've never felt before, and as she licks your bunghole you feel a tingle deep inside. It almost feels like burning, but in a good way. A white hot fire of pleasure emanating from within your groin.
You stutter as you try to communicate to her, leaning over her body and resting your hands on her back. With each breath she licks you and grinds the top of her muzzle against your shaft. It takes all your self control just to speak your wonder. “Ju.. St.. Oh.. Ah... Just how dirty … are... Ahh!... you?”
She doesn't respond with by talking, but she does use her tongue. The mare shifts under you just a little, and rams her tongue right into your ass, spreading your sphincter with her potent muscle. At first it hurts, and you clench in surprise. When you tighten around her firm tongue, that white fire that had been building cascades across your body in a wave and you shudder in ecstasy.
You're not sure how, but you find that in your confusion, she's pulled you down on top of her and flipped herself over. You're sitting on her face, leaning over her body while she roughly tongue fucks you in the ass in your shower. You're vaguely aware that this isn't at all how you'd imagined the evening to go, but as you convulse over her body in ecstasy, you couldn't care less about that.
She's lifting you off the floor with her head as she impales you on her tongue, and you feel your cock grinding against her chest each time she thrusts you forward. Each wave of white fire that burns your nethers brings you closer to the most intense orgasm of your life. You know it'll happen soon.
You feel her soft hooves grasp around your cock and begin to pump you, pulling and pushing in time with her tongues filthy task. You tighten your grip around her waist, and bury your face in fur. It's too much for you, you can't take it any more. Her tongue presses strongly against something inside of you, something up and behind your ball sack, deep in your body. You grit your teeth into her body as you explode, thick strands of pent up cum painting the space between you and the whore.
You keep thrusting as her tongue forces more and more of your jizz out of your body. You've never felt this empty. You've never felt this alive. Groaning, you feel the burning sensation flow away. You begin to hurt, first your ass. It's sore. Really, really sore. Then your ballsack hurts too. It feels sore in a new way. Like it's just gotten the best exercise of it's life.
You're confused. You feel violated. But you also feel good, content with what happened. You relax a little and rest on her body, feeling her breathing up and down, feeling your slime between you and her. It's a little reassuring, having the sticky memory of what just transpired close by. You replay it in your head, focusing on the sensations and the way she moved. That was hot, more intense than you had expected from a pony.
After a minute or two, you feel something tapping on your legs. Oh yeah. The little mare probably didn't want to keep staring at your ass anymore. Then again, she couldn't see it anyway. Still, the position was probably uncomfortable for her.
You get up, letting her get up as well. After a moment, she speaks first. “Did you enjoy that?”
You grin even though she can't see it. “Best 180 bit's I've ever spent.”
She taps gently on your knee and you kneel down to her height for her to speak. “That wasn't for the bits. That was just for the food. I believe we still have the rest of the night for me to work off the bits.”
You put your hand on the side of her head, and she presses into it. “I think we can work something out. Your tongue is amazing.”
She moves forward, pressing her muzzle into your ear. “My tongue is only one part of me you know.” She breathes heavily on you, and licks behind your ear. “All of me is a whore...” Your eyes are drawn to the base of her tail, lifted high and pressed to the side. Exposing herself for the world to see.
You reach forward, grabbing her ass cheek and pressing your fingers against her puckered hole. You feel her nearly imperceptibly wince at your touch, but her voice doesn't betray her like her body does. “And all of me has a few tricks.” Your finger resting on her tight asshole is suddenly sucked in up to the first knuckle, and she gives your ear a light bite.
“So, how about I start working off those 180 bits?” Your trapped finger is given a tight squeeze and your aching cock rises up to a half chub. It's not even dinner time, and it's going to be a long, dirty night.
She's crying right now. It's soft, and barely perceptible, but you can hear it. At first you weren't sure, having fallen asleep after an exhausting evening and then having been disturbed by the noise. She probably thought you were still asleep.
“Are you all right?” You mumble shakily through a yawn. You don't know what hour it is, but it's still dark outside. At the sound of your voice, the quiet sobbing suddenly stops.
After a moment, she answers you. “I'm fine. Sorry if I woke you up.” She sounds calm and collected. You doubt she's slept much.
Well, since you're awake you may as well cuddle. You reach your arm across the bed and begin to scoot closer to her. It seems natural. That's what you've always done fore anybody who's crying, human or pony. You hug them. It also doesn't hurt that in your sleep hazed mind you want to feel the warmth of her flesh against your own. “It's all right.” you say.
As your arm wraps around her midsection and you pull her close, you realize it's not all right. She stops breathing when you touch her, and her body is rigid. It feels like she's shaking against you, like she is terrified of something.
You fully awaken from your stupor as your concern builds. She makes no effort to fight you, but it feels as though she's frozen up. Unsure of what to do, you let her go and back away. She seems to relax a little, and her breathing returns as you let her go. You have to know why. “What... what was that?”
Instead of answering you, she just begins to openly sob, loudly. Your concern turns into panic. What have you just done to make this mare cry like this? “Hey! It's okay. It's okay!” You try to comfort her and reach your hand to her shoulder again. This time she jerks away at your touch, neatly rolling out of bed and landing on her feet.
Her eyes are open wide, shining in the darkness as she turns her head left and right in a panic. You can see it on her face, she's terrified. Her sobbing has stopped now, and instead she stays alert. Like an animal searching the darkness for a predator. Her tears silently stream down her face until she takes a couple of deep breaths.
“It's just me, remember? It's okay...” You have no idea what to do for the poor mare. Obviously she didn't want to be touched, so you decide to stay where you are in order to give her some space.
At the sound of your voice, you see her begin to relax. She blinks some tears away and lifts a hoof to wipe the wetness off her face. She takes a few more deep breaths, and then lowers her head to the bed in a defeated posture. “I'm sorry...” Is all she says.
You can tell she's ashamed of her panic attack, and you want to comfort her. She looks so lonely right now, and you're so close. The best you can do is reassure her. “Hey. It's okay.”
She blinks and just looks sad for a moment before she responds. “If you don't want to pay me, I'll understand.”
You struggle for words for a second before you figure out how to respond. “I had an amazing time last night. You were worth every bit. You're still getting payed.”
You see her let out a held breath in relief. “Thank you.”
A smile forms on your face when you respond. “You don't have to thank me. This is a business transaction after all.” A fleeting grin graces her face, and you feel a little better. You both stay quiet for a moment while she lays stands there, resting her chin on the bed.
You've found that her face is interesting. She's oddly expressive, but she doesn't always express emotions the right way. You figure it's probably due to her blindness. Being unable to see probably means she never saw other ponies make expressions, so she had to figure them out herself. Most of the time her face is relaxed, and she appears calm. During her panic attack, her face had showed signs of terror, her unseeing eyes wide open and her head quickly turning as her jaw was tightly closed.
Happiness is brief on her face, flashing for just a moment and then she is back to her calm normal state. While you had a hard time reading her face, her feelings were expressed clearly through her voice. It was odd how so much emotion could be conveyed through pitch and tone, it seemed as though she tried extra hard for others to know how she was feeling. It was a shame she didn't talk much.
“Hey, if you're feeling better do you want to get back in bed?”
“If it's all the same, I'd like to stay like this for a while.” She sounds tired.
“Oh...” Is all you can say.
It must have sounded like you were hurt from her response, as her ears perked up and she climbed into the bed, snuggling close to you. “Sorry. I forget myself sometimes.” She sounds sad, but she presses her back against your chest, and you can feel her down the length of your body. She is warm and soft, and you blush for a moment remembering last night's debauchery.
You feel a nagging voice in the back of your head, telling you that she's clearly uncomfortable with the situation, and sigh as you back away from her comforting presence. You awkwardly lay there for a while watching the back of her head, but keeping a reasonable amount of space between the two of you.
“So... what just happened there?” Maybe it was a little too direct, but you were never exactly tactful. Now that she had calmed down, you might be able to talk this out.
“'I'd rather not talk about it.” She shifted uncomfortably in the bed.
You were beginning to get an idea of what was going on. Ponies were always weirded out when they met you. You were different, ugly to them. You had sharp teeth and looked like some kind of huge shaven and misshapen monkey. She must think you're some kind of monster. “It's okay, I'm not going to eat you or anything.” You had thought that maybe she was different, but you had been ignoring the signs. Clearly you make her uncomfortable.
She doesn't respond for a moment, and then rolls over so that she's facing you. Her eyes are squinting, as if she's thinking hard about something. It must be something serious. Eventually she speaks. “What? Why the heck would I think you were going to eat me?”
The confusion in her voice is mirrored in your mind. “Well, I mean... Uhh... Usually ponies... I mean...” You stumble over your words for a moment. “What I meant was, that usually ponies think I'm some kind of predator at first, and they are kind of nervous around me. Like you seem to be.” You're embarrassed at your confession. It just kind of comes tumbling out.
Her concern fades away to her calm face. “Oh. No. That's not the problem.”
“Well, then what is?"
She stays silent, and you start to get frustrated. This is stupid, she's just a whore, you shouldn't care about what she thinks about you. You tell yourself that it's a simple business transaction. You roll over to face away from her, not wanting to look at her at the moment.
After a second or two you feel a hoof on your back, and hear her scoot closer, feeling her warmth again. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just... I just don't like being touched.” She wraps an arm (Leg? What do you call their forelegs again?) over you and pulls herself tightly into you.
It's your turn to be confused. “What? How can you not like being touched?” While that clarifies some of the things you've seen, why would a mare torture herself like that?
“I have a hard time talking about it.” She holds you tightly and speaks quietly into the back of your ear. You stay quiet and try to process what she's saying.
She doesn't like to be touched, but she's a whore. Now all the weird responses you'd get when you put your hand on her made sense. It was uncomfortable for her. But why? And how did she function? You guess that might be the reason for her dire state when you approached her. You have a bunch of questions, but hold your tongue. She seems to sense your confusion.
“It's not touching. It's being touched. They're two separate things. It's why I can hold you like this just fine, but when you put you're hand on me I panic.” Well that made more sense you suppose. “It's also not bad if you warn me.”
Now you kinda feel like a dick. All those times you unwittingly surprised her. She can't see, you numbskull. She doesn't know you're going to touch her unless you tell her. “Oh. I'm sorry.” You feel sheepish.
“It's fine. I never told you.” She sighs and then mutters. “I've never told anyone.”
You let her hold you for a while, enjoying her presence. All the while thinking about her, and what could have caused her to be like this.
“Hey, can I turn around and hold you, too?” You wonder if being held is still comforting for her, or if it's unpleasant.
“Sure...” She says.
You roll over slowly, and work your arm under her body, putting your other arm on top of her. She doesn't tense up. As you pull her into you, she relaxes in your grasp and nuzzles her head into your shoulder. You can tell that she likes this.
She quietly speaks into you, pressing herself against your body as you hold her. She sounds amused. “Usually I'm fucking somepony when I'm like this with them.”
“We already did that. How about we just stay like this a while instead?” You smile as you speak.
“Yeah. That sounds nice. I like that.” You can hear the happiness in her voice as you hold each other in the night. -----
It's been hours, you're not sure how many. It's still dark outside. She seems to have fallen asleep in your arms, but you just don't feel tired anymore. Something about this is satisfying. The sex scratched an itch that had been bugging you for a while, and that had felt pretty damn good.
This was something else. This was satiating you on a different level. Right now you were feasting on something you hadn't even realized you were hungry for. Affection, love, you weren't sure what it was. But it felt good just being there, holding her.
Sometime during the night you had rolled onto your back, and brought her on top of you. She had stayed asleep, and now rests her head on your chest. Her warm body presses tightly on you and you gently stroke her back. She seems content right now as well. Maybe she was hungry too? You can't tell what was going through her head. She's a bit of a mystery really.
As you're pondering her, she slowly opens her eyes and yawns wide. Her cute little face looks nothing like the dirty whore you took to bed with you. Instead she looks adorable. You stop stroking her back for fear of aggravating her condition.
“It's okay. I liked that. Can you keep doing it?” She asks sweetly.
“Yeah. I can.” You rub your hand gently down her back, scratching it into her ful a little as you go.
“Ooh. That's nice.” She smiles and then leans forward and closes her eyes again, just relishing your touch. “It's not always an issue you know. Sometimes when I feel safe, it goes away for a little bit.”
You feel better about things when she tells you this. But you still have some questions, and she is awake. “Hey... so why do you... you know... do what you do?”
She smiles seductively, scooting forward towards your face. “You mean why am I a dirty whore?” You stop scratching her back as she inches further forward, almost touching your face. “You mean you're asking me why I am a cock sucking little pony who will let you put your cock anywhere in her body? A whore who will do anything for a few bits?”
You suddenly feel a intimidated by this little pony, and aren't sure you know what to say “Uh... I guess?”
She relaxes back down and rests her head next to yours so she can whisper in your ear. “I haven't told anypony my story before. Why should I tell you?”
You still aren't sure what to say, something about her demeanor has changed. She went from being a relaxed and content little pony to a very seductive female. “Maybe... It will help? Sometimes you need to talk about things to... help them?” You can hear the nervousness in your own voice. It's embarrassing.
“Maybe you're right then. Only one way to find out.” She licks just under your ear, and slowly draws a small trail of saliva to the center of your chest. Her tongue is warm and soft, but leaves a cool wet path on your skin.
You feel her shifting on top of you, repositioning for something. “But first I want you to scratch an itch for me. I'm afraid I can't reach it, and you have such long arms.” Her face is over yours now, her vacant eyes half lidded and her warm breath covering your face.
You put your hands on her back,and dig your fingers into her her fur again. She coos at you, “That's nice... but it's a little lower.” She smiles seductively, waiting for you to make your move.
Carefully, you keep scratching down her back towards her tail. All the while she grins salaciously at you. As your hands get closer you see her raise her tail, and she whispers down to you, “It's lower still. I think you'll know it when you find it.”
You didn't think there was anything left in you, but it seems the few hours of rest you've had have been enough for your body to recuperate a little. Her aggressive behavior is turning you on, and you feel your flaccid cock start to grow. As your hands dip past her tail, you slide them down around her tail hole, and towards the lips of her honey pot.
Her lips are swollen and warm, and you tease the outside with your fingertips, lightly tapping along the edge. Her smile turns into a pout. “I think you're going to need to scratch a little harder for this itch.”
You oblige the suddenly needy mare, and slip your right hand into her waiting, quivering flesh. It's hot. Not just warm, but practically burning. Your hand slides in easily, she's slippery and wet inside. Spreading your fingers, you stretch her pliant flesh, and she moans in response, lowering her head into your chest.
Your other hand drops to the fleshy nub at the tip of her cunt, and you give her swollen clit a squeeze. She shudders into your chest, pressing herself into you as she stifles a cry. Her cunt leaks onto your groin, moistening your now hard cock.
She was wet last night, but not dripping. Not like this. You feel strangely powerful as the mare squirms into your chest, moaning and gasping with each touch. You work up a pattern, three deep stretches and two hard squeezes followed by playing with her inner lips while you run the length of your hand across her sopping wet clit.
The squeezes make her gasp, and the rough texture of your hand causes her to squirm. She starts to anticipate your movements, leaning into you when you play with her and bracing against your chest when you fill her with your hand.
Playing with her body like this, watching her respond so readily is getting you more than just a little worked up. You lean your head forward and give her forehead a kiss in between the part in her dark brown mane. She tilts her head back and dives into your lips, wrapping her arms around your neck and holding you close to her.
Her tongue splits your lips, and slides into your mouth. It's strong, stronger than it's size would lead you to believe. You push it back into her mouth, and let it dance with your own. Her eyes are closed now, pressed tightly as she moans into you. You can feel her heat and wetness dribbling onto your cock, lubricating the space between your two bodies.
She shudders and pulls out of the kiss to put her head next to yours as she's rocking back and forth. “Make me cum...” You can't tell if it's a request or a command. Either way, you don't plan on disappointing her.
“Is my dirty whore having a good time?” You feel her shudder when you speak, her muscles squeezing against your hand inside her.
“Yes... Your little filly is having a good time.” She pants it out desperately. You smirk as you grind your cock against her body. She used an interesting choice of words.
“Do you want to be a good little filly for me?” Her eyes shoot open wide in surprise as you turn her words back on her. You can feel starting to shake and quiver as she sputters out a response.
“I want.. I want to be a good little filly, sir.” You know that she can't see you, but she still turns her blank face to look directly at you with eyes wide as saucers. She's squeezing your hand tightly with her cunt, and it's more slippery than before.
The temptation becomes too much, and you pull your hand out. She whines at the loss, pleading with you. “Please! I'll be a good filly. Just let me cum.” You shut her up by kissing her as you line up your dick, and slide it in. She's loose, but absolutely soaked and hot as the sun. You thrust your dick all the way in, burying yourself in the moaning whore as you pull away from the kiss.
“Be a good little filly and make yourself tight for me.” You tell her what you want, and she does it instantly. She squeezes your dick hard, it would be impossible to fuck her like this except she's so wet you can slide right into her. She shudders as you put your hand resting on her clit back to work. “Good little fillies get rewarded.”
Your throbbing, rock hard cock spears into her over and over again as she babbles incoherently into your chest. It's sexy as hell, but you've already blown your load plenty this night. It'll be a while before you're done. Deciding to make things move along faster, you sit up and roll her over so she's under you and you're facing down on her.
Watching her face, you realize that she's close. Much closer than you. You know how flexible she is, so it doesn't bother you to take her arms and pin them to the side of her head with your free arm. She squirms a little, but you can see her shaking and holding her breath as well. You have your other hand start stroking her clit in a long smooth and slow motion as you slow down your thrusting.
She's arching her back to meet your slow thrusts as you rock into her. “Does my dirty whore like being fucked this way?”
She moans her response between held breaths. “Yes... Sir...” It's odd how she suddenly started calling you sir. You'll have to ask her about it later. She clearly has some kind of kink where she likes to pretend she's younger than she is. Maybe she's pretending you're somebody else, somebody who she would have to call sir?
Well, screw it. Every time your last finger slowly crosses the edge of her clit, she gasps and tightens a little around you. So you time things to line up to that as you lean down to tell her what you want.
You grin like the Devil himself. “Be a good little filly, and cum for daddy.” Flick.
She screams, and you can feel her start to convulse, pressing up against your pinning arm almost like she's trying to escape. You press the weight of your body into her, holding her down and trapping her in a kiss. She begins to thrash about wildly, but your heavy weight keeps her pinned under you and you in her. She's screaming into your mouth, and her eyes are open wide, almost like she's terrified. After a moment of or two of this, you feel her convulse harder, this time into you, and something warm and wet gushes from her cunt.
She tears her head away from yours and does it again with a strained groan, more of a guttural scream. As the hot fluid drenches you all the sensations become too much to bear, and you feel yourself let go inside of her. You thrust deep into her squirting flesh and she lets out an exhausted sigh. Her body melts, easing back into the bed as you fruitlessly ejaculate inside her.
Your body is trying, but it seems like you're empty. Each dry squirt is really more painful than not, but the sensation is still satisfying. Grunting and sweating you collapse on top of her, and pull her into a kiss. She's completely unresponsive, letting you open her mouth and put your tongue into it.
After a moment, she turns her head to the side in order to gasp some air. You let her breathe and get up off of her, sliding your now shrinking dick out of her wet hole. She rolls over under you in order to face away, and you back off from her a bit. You're not sure if you can touch her right now or not.
She seemed to enjoy that a lot. You hadn't seen her cum like that yet, it was new. And hot. At the same time, she was acting weird. She hadn't said a word, and as far as you could tell was ignoring you. You began to get worried, had you done something wrong?
“Are you okay?”
She doesn't answer for the longest time. You begin to get really concerned that maybe you've hurt her. Is she even conscious? It's hard to tell when she's limp like that, since her eyes don't really tell you much. You just lay there in mental agony for a while, unsure of what just happened.
Eventually, she speaks. “I said I'd tell you... what was wrong with me.” Her voice is monotone again, as though she feels just as empty as she looks. You want to hold her, to touch her.
“Can I hold you? Are you all right?” Your worry bleeds into your voice.
Her response is terse, and cold. “No.” Just No. You wait for an explanation, or something like one. Instead she turns completely on her side, so that her back is to you. It's a long while of awkward silence.
You lay back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Somehow you've gone and fucked this up. You're not sure exactly what you did, but it's clearly pissed her off.
Minutes, maybe an hour later, you hear her speak again. “I said I'd tell you my story.”
You feel kind of angry about being ignored for so long, so your response is bitter. “No. It's all right.”
She turns to look at you, and you see tears streaming down her eyes. She's been crying the whole time. Silently, and facing away from you so you wouldn't notice. You feel like you ate a bag of rotten apples. “I'm sorry.”
She answers slowly. “It's fine. I just think you should know. I've never told anypony before.” She scoots a little closer to you. “I wouldn't mind you holding me while I talk, but please don't interrupt me.
You wrap your arms around her, and she snuggles into your chest. It's nice.
She starts her story quietly, but she picks up confidence as she talks. “Some ponies would start a tale like this by saying, 'I wasn't always like this.' I can't start this story that way. Because for as long as I can remember, I've been this way. Afraid to be touched. But it's not without reason. Because he was there in the beginning.”
Your heart drops like a rock. You can tell what she's going to say before she says it.
“My Daddy.”
Fuck.
- - -
All of my first memories are of him. As soon as I could walk, I learned to fear him. I was born blind, and my mother died in childbirth. Daddy was a unicorn, mommy too. But I was born a blind earth pony. He blamed me for Motherss death. I was useless to him, simply a mouth to feed. So he made me useful.
At nights, he would hurt me. It wasn't just painful either, it was embarrassing and awful. I hated baths as well. That's when he would play different games with me. It didn't hurt much, but I couldn't really walk right after them either.
I was completely at his mercy, he raised me. Taught me to speak. Kept me at home away from other ponies. If I did anything he didn't like, I was beaten. He didn't like anything I did. Sometimes I couldn't walk from the pain of beatings and playtime.
Once, maybe when I was about seven or eight, I asked why he hated me so much. At first he didn't say anything. Then he led me somewhere and strapped my back hooves into something. I was scared, but I knew better than to try and run. There was no where to run to. He hoisted me up, hanging me upside down. Then the straps spread my legs wide. He beat me with a whip, a paddle, and his magic.
It hurt down there for days afterwards, but he still played with me at night and made me take baths. It was awful. But he did tell me why he hated me. Because I was a filthy mud pony. A dirty little worm who would only ever be good for one thing. I had no magic, and no sight. I was less than useless, I was a burden. And in order to get me, he had traded his wife, my mother. A talented unicorn mage.
I understood where I was in life at that point. Life had been suffering and misery, and that's when I realized it would always be suffering and misery. I used to fantasize about being a princess or being rescued from Daddy. After that night, I stopped. Mud ponies didn't have futures like that. Blind ones less so. I was wasting my time thinking about that. I was better off thinking of ways to make Daddy happy, so he didn't hurt me as much. I got very good at making Daddy happy.
Puberty was difficult. I grew. I grew enough where it didn't hurt anymore. I'd been... enjoying... it forever, I don't know when my first orgasm was. Just that they always made me feel dirty and awful afterwords. But after puberty, I wanted his touch for more than just attention.
My life had been nothing but suffering with brief bouts of awful pleasure. So of course I favored the pleasure by this point. It was better to make Daddy feel good and for me to feel sick later than to get beaten until everything hurt, then being forced to make Daddy feel good and for me to still feel sick later. But at about maybe twelve or so, I actually started wanting it.
When he was working, I would bother him. If he was at his desk, I would go under it and put him in my mouth. Just to feel him finish inside of me while I played with myself. Puberty is when I became his little whore.
He sometimes used me to test spells. One time, he told me he was going to “fix” me. I didn't know what he meant at the time. It burned inside me so bad, I cried and then threw up. I had a pretty high pain tolerance by this point, so that was awful. Once the spell was over, he laughed at me. He told me that he made me sterile, but left me hormonal, so we could fuck all through my first season. We did.
Daddy and I didn't even shower that week. It would have been pointless. I was constantly wet, and he was constantly buried in me. I would wake him up multiple times during the night, and ride him until he came. Then we would both pass out for a few minutes until I woke up again. During the day, we hardly left the bed. He had a spell he'd use to make himself ready to go at any time, and after he 'fixed' me, my season wouldn't end no matter what happened to me. At the end of the week, the bed was soaked through with bodily fluids from us. Daddy threw the bed away, and made me clean the floor while he watched. Every year we'd spend my season like that, it was like a celebration for us.
During my early teen years, I was rebellious. That's when he started mixing the pleasure and pain in earnest. I might spend a day strapped to a machine of his that made me cum until I wanted to die. Or he would beat me with a whip and call me names until I came. I didn't stay rebellious for very long. I wasn't sure if I was getting rewarded or punished anymore, and I don't think I cared.
I got out once. It was accidental. Daddy had left the basement door open, and I wandered upstairs. I got outside somehow, fumbling with doors and whatnot. Outside at the time was warm and breezey, and I was greeted by a new voice. One that wasn't Daddy. It was small, it sounded more like me and less like Daddy.
It asked me if I wanted to play. I said yes. When the filly got away from me, she called me a freak. She told me to go home and never come outside again. So I turned around and went back. This world outside wasn't for me. I was a mud pony. Daddy found me crying in my room. I asked him to play with me. He beat me instead for going outside. I never went outside again.
I hated Daddy. I loved Daddy. He was my world, the only thing that I had lived for during my entire existence. So I was confused when he died. I didn't understand. I thought he was punishing me somehow. He hadn't come down to play with me in a while, and I was getting hungry. So I went upstairs to find him, and the door was unlocked. As I was wandering around his house, I bumped into him. He was hanging from something.
He wouldn't answer me when I called to him. He just swung back and forth. I tried to wake him up by giving him a blow job. Can you imagine that? I don't even know how long he was dead, or how long I tried to wake him up. Eventually some stallions came to take his stuff, he had owed them money. I imagine they were surprised when they found a blind teenager fellating a several day old corpse and crying.
They took me in, as I was one of Daddy's things. They were nice. All they wanted to do was play with me. Not even as much as Daddy did. Once in a while I would panic, thinking Daddy was back to punish me. I would cry and scream, and they didn't know what to do with me. So they took me somewhere else. They sold me to a whorehouse.
There were other mares there. They taught me how to speak like a regular pony, and about the world proper. I spent several years there, I liked it most of the time. The dirty feeling never went away, but stallions would come and play with me. I learned how much a bit was worth, and how to get them. Ponies traded bits to fuck me. They liked me at the whorehouse, because I was one of the better whores. I never said no to anything. Sometimes I would panic and cry, but they would just put me in a room until I stopped. I'd tell them when I was okay, and they would let me out.
But then, one day I was talking with a new girl, and she talked about how she told somepony no because they wanted to stick something in her butt. I asked her why she told him that, and she just said that she didn't like it when they did that. That's when everything changed.
The next day, anytime somepony touched me, I'd tell them no. And it worked. I didn't do anything I didn't want to that day. It was a brand new world. I meant something, if only enough to keep ponies from touching me. The day after, somepony touched me and I said no. But they didn't stop. I panicked, thinking they were Daddy. I think I bit them or something. I don't remember. They locked me in a room, and didn't let me out when I said I was okay.
Eventually, some ponies from the government came. They put me in a house where ponies helped take care of me. I took classes, and learned how to act like an adult. I learned about personal boundaries and what's okay to say and not to say in public. I learned a lot about how to function in society, but I knew I'd never be useful. As time went on, it became clear to me that I only had one skill, one thing I was good at.
I asked some difficult questions about zoning laws, and what's legal where. I bribed a pony with a hoof job, that's 5 bits, to write a sign for me, and take me to a place where I could do what I was good at, but not be near too many ponies.
There have been lot's of mean ponies. But not all of them are bad. Every few days I can usually get a customer for something. Somepony brought me a box to live in, that was nice. They pretended to just throw it away, but I know better. It's difficult to throw something like that away on a sleeping mare without waking her up.
Ponies still touch me, they still make me do things that make me think of Daddy. They still make me flinch and hate myself. But they do it on my terms. Those are my prices. I can be bargained with, or haggle, but I get to make a decision on it. And that's what's important. It's hard, some days I spend the whole day thinking about what an awful pony I am. I am a mud pony that lives in the mud, and I do dirty things.
That was yesterday. I hated myself. I was hungry and sad. I think I know why Daddy killed himself. Yesterday I was thinking about how life is just awful, and everything is suffering. I was thinking about doing what Daddy did. I'm good at one thing. And I hate it. It makes me feel sick inside, but it's all I have to trade.
Earlier, I was crying because I had been thinking of Daddy. I thought of daddy when you made me finish. You know, I tried to get away. I was scared for a moment. But then you made me cum. Just like Daddy used to.
- - -
Holy hell. Mother of flying fuck.
Well, at least you know something that holds true between dimensions. The better in bed they are, the more fucked up they are. What the heck are you going to do now?
The curiosity finally gets the better of you. You have to know. “So... how do you know, know what colors look like?”
She actually smiles as she responds. That's better than you expected, honestly. “Colors are difficult. I guess I think of colors as attributes of things.” She pauses for a moment to collect her thoughts. “Like the sky. I know the sky is blue. So when I think of blue, I think of the sky. It's high above me, somewhere I can never reach.” Her eyes close, and she seems to be imagining something. “Light and airy. I can feel it sometimes when I'm outside and it reaches down to touch me. Maybe a cold breeze or gentle wind. Those things are blue to me.” Her eyes open, and she settles on her neutral face. “I also know the sky is pretty. It's beautiful, something that I will never be.” She seems a little distant when she talks about the color blue. Perhaps it's a secret dream of hers.
Her nose wrinkles up and she frowns. “Unlike Brown. Brown is my color. It's the color of my coat, and the color of my mane.” She seems sad and a little angry, but she keeps talking. “Brown is the color of dirt. I stand in dirt, and live in dirt.” She picks up her hoof and puts it in front of her face as though she's inspecting it with her nose. “Anything around my hooves is brown. Brown is hard and gritty. Sometimes it's squishy. Sometimes it smells bad. When I think of brown, I think of myself and mud. I'm dirt, so brown is all I will ever be.” You frown as well. She doesn’t seem to like brown.
“There are other colors, too. That's where everypony else lives. I live beneath the blue and in the brown. Everybody else live in between, above the brown. Some of them even in the blue.” She turns her head skyward, even though you’re indoors.
“Colors like red. Red means pain and suffering, blood is red. But that's life, pain and suffering, so life is red, too. Ponies I meet are mostly red. Some are red and pink. Pink is what our fur less parts are. Tongues, cocks, pussies, these are pink. Pink is… well, pink is when ponies touch me. It's when they make me feel sex. It’s squishing and groaning, pushing and happy sighs. Sometimes I like pink. Sometimes I want pink. Sometimes I don't, but pink is like red; it’s just another part of life. So most ponies I meet are some mix of pink and red.” She runs a hoof down her side, thinking with her body.
“There's more colors ponies can be though. Orange is the color of a fruit, oranges, and they're sweet and juicy. Orange things are nice things. They smell nice and taste nice. You feel orange to me. Orange, pink, and maybe a little red. You're... nice.” She leans in and sniffs you, just to be sure you’re still there. You’ve been holding your breath, and she seems content before she continues. “Anyways, I can't see colors, but I know colors. Everypony else is some mix of colors. I'm just brown. Dirty, and filthy.” She settles down again, lost in her own thoughts.
You’d never really considered this all before, but it does explain some of her behavior. And if that was what she knew, was it wrong? You suppose a little confusion is what you get for asking a blind mare about colors. At least now you can see yourself through her eyes, or her lack thereof.
A stray thought occurs to you. Maybe you should let her know about chocolate?
