Work Sucks
Cheerilee hated the way the secretary looked at her. She smirked, but never openly, her face plain and expressionless as she told her that Mister Rich would be ready in a few moments and would she take a seat, plain as she returned to her paperwork as Cheerilee sat down with fidgety fingers and ice in her stomach, plain as the buzzer on her desk went off, plain as she bade her through the door to the office, and even plain as Cheerilee stood, shakily, and made her way across the room.
The secretary only smirked as Cheerilee walked past, just so she could see the twist of her lips from the corner of her eye. Cheerilee saw the hint of a smirk as she passed her, and didn't know if she wanted to punch her or run away crying.
She never knew.
The first time had been different. The secretary recognised her, and looked... surprised. She had composed herself, told Cheerilee to wait, and then smirked. She'd known what these meetings were about long before Cheerilee had, it seemed.
The doorknob was cold in Cheerilee's hand, and the chill of it went up her arm and through her whole body. She stepped through into the office and shut the door behind her. The office was surprisingly spartan. A fibreboard desk on a thin, cheap carpet, metal blinds from thirty years ago, filing cabinets with peeling grey paint.
It made sense, in a way. Filthy Rich always wanted his money's worth.
"Take off everything but your tights." Filthy didn't look up from his desk as he spoke.
Cheerilee opened her mouth to speak, and shut it. She didn't want to take her clothes off, but if she protested, he might make her keep them on. Her fingers fumbled with her white blouse. Everything felt tight and shaky. Her D-cup bra came off after her shirt, then her pleated skirt fell to the floor, and finally she kicked off her flats. Then, she gathered up her clothes and put them in the trash can.
There was no point to putting them in the trash can. Filthy Rich had plenty of space in his office to hide them. It was just that little bit more degrading to make Cheerilee store her clothes among balled-up paper, sandwich wrappers, and day-old apple cores.
She walked over to Filthy, still sat at his desk, knelt down on the thin carpet next to his chair, and held her hands behind her back. She winced as he grabbed a tit and squeezed harshly. He turned to face her, staring down at her breasts as he took them in both hands and mauled them. She still had bruises from last week, and he seemed more interested in causing her pain than any self-gratification.
"I'm honestly surprised you're not whining today," he said, grabbing a nipple between thumb and finger and shaking it like a dog tugging at a rope toy. "Have you finally learned what that mouth of yours is for?"
Cheerilee hissed in pain. "Yes, sir."
"Excellent. Under the desk, now."
He relinquished her breasts and rolled his chair backwards. Sullenly, she crawled forward on her hands and knees to move under the desk. A hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"Wait. Put your hands behind your back."
As soon as she did, a pair of metal handcuffs clicked in place over her wrists.
"You keep pushing on my thighs," he explained. "It's a habit we need to train you out of."
With no further fuss, Cheerilee crawled under the desk. Filthy Rich's legs and crotch blocked out most of the light, leaving her in the darkness. It was not a large desk, and simply sitting underneath it forced her to crane her back and neck forward uncomfortably. Usually she could brace herself with her hands, at least, but not today.
Filthy Rich unbuckled his belt, unzipped his slacks, and pulled his thick, half-hard cock from his briefs. The musky, sweaty stink of it alone turned Cheerilee's stomach. She had never found stallions attractive, and this one was no exception. His hand shot forward to grab her thick, luscious purple mane and he pulled her head forward, rubbing the shaft over her face before she had a chance to open her mouth.
"Enough teasing," he said. "Eat up."
"Yes, sir."
Cheerilee leaned forward and took the head of his cock between her lips. It tasted of sharp, insistent salt, and her nostrils filled with the humid smell of sweat, piss, and body odor coming from his tangled thatch of pubic hair. She let out a whimper of humiliation as she slid her tongue around the tip. He hadn't showered last night. He bragged about not showering before her visits.
"No point if you're going to give me a thorough cleaning," he had said.
Filthy groaned softly. She looked up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock, looking up at his charcoal blazer, his red silk tie, his pressed designer shirt that cost twice as much as her entire outfit, but he did not look down. All she could see of his face was his chin, and the hint of a cold smirk on his lips. The cock twitched in her mouth.
The intercom buzzed. Cheerilee continued to bob her head as Filthy answered it.
"Tip Top here to see you, sir."
"Send her in."
Cheerilee sucked his cock as the mare walked into the office. The mare sat across the desk from Filthy. A vendor for kitchen appliances, talking shop about logistics, shipping costs, and investment opportunities. Filthy was entirely professional, not a hint of intimidation or lust, and no sign that the local schoolteacher was gobbling his dick throughout the entire conversation.
Cheerilee's neck and shoulders were aching already. With her hands behind her back, she had no way to brace herself as she worked. She could strain to stay upright with her back muscles, or she could fall forward further onto the dick. She yanked her head back up after one bob, almost gagging. Filthy Rich reached below the desk and pressed a button, turning the heater on. Though she was cold and naked, she knew it wasn't for her. It was to cover her sounds as she choked on his cock.
She drooled uncontrollably as he tested her gag reflex, spit running down his shaft, coating his balls, and puddling below his crotch on his pleather chair. It helped with the taste, but the smell was still overpowering. She could feel his hips twitching softly, and knew the taste was about to get a lot worse.
He came the moment the vendor turned to leave. Cheerilee's eyes shot open as jizz filled her mouth, swallowing desperately. It slid down her throat spurt by spurt, but there was too much. Her cheeks bulged out as she tried to keep up, and a powerful shot forced semen up into her sinuses. She pulled off the cock, coughing and hacking as it dribbled from her nose, a thick splat of cum falling from her mouth landing on his balls. His cock remained in place, still firing off more cum, the last few ropes landing on her forehead to dribble down her face.
Filthy coughed, covering his mouth with a hand. The vendor must have turned around at the noise. He bade the vendor goodbye, and the door shut behind her.
Below the desk, Cheerilee felt as if she was drowning. Filthy Rich's cum was impossibly thick, each rope of jizz so dense that they barely mixed with each other, instead forming a slimy stew of distinct strands in her mouth that clung to her lips, teeth and tongue, each drop a struggle to swallow. With each gulp it seemed that half the mouthful stayed stuck in her mouth, forcing her to taste it over and over, bitter as paint thinner with a bleachy, fishy aftertaste.
She hacked and sniffled after swallowing what she could, feeling thoroughly miserable. Cum dripped down her sinuses into the back of her throat, and what remained of the cum in her mouth was so well-mixed in with her spit that she'd be tasting it for days. Her nose was blocked and tears ran down her cheeks, mixing with the sperm plastered over her face. Her job wasn't done. Her job was never done until he said so.
"Balls next, if you would."
"Y-yes sir," she muttered. She rested her chin on the lip of the chair, squelching in the puddle of mixed spit and cum, and lapped softly at his sweaty, cum-dripping sack. He sighed with contentment and petted her, before returning to his paperwork.
She stayed there for what felt like half an hour, licking away, but cleaning them was impossible. All she was doing was pushing the cum around, and the heat of her tongue kept making him sweat. Her nose was too stuffy to smell him, at least.
The intercom buzzed again. Filthy ordered her back on the dick. It was hard again. Her stomach rumbled, but she did as she was told, taking half of his length in one swallow as another businesspony walked in. Her jaw was sore, her lips were numb, and the muscles in her neck were burning. His hand rested on top of her head, not pushing her down, but keeping her from raising her head, making her stay in a constant state of straining discomfort.
Cheerilee barely noticed what the two ponies above her were talking about. Breathing through her nose was a struggle, and Filthy's hand stopped her lifting her mouth high enough to breathe around his dick. Her whole body ached now, not just from the strain of her position, but from the lack of air. All she could do was stay quiet and continue to service him.
She didn't know how long the meeting lasted. He came before it finished, his voice betraying nothing as he fired his load into Cheerilee's mouth. It was still a struggle to keep up, though more cum flowed out from her mouth and down his shaft than out through her nose this time. It settled unpleasantly in her stomach as she suckled on the tip, drinking the last few thick spurts as they arrived.
She needed to cry.
The meeting hadn't stopped. She caught something about discounting, but couldn't concentrate. Instead, she sat back on her heels and rested for as long as she dared. She got ten seconds before Filthy reached a hand under the table and clipped the side of her head. Gritting her teeth, she suppressed a sob, and then moved forward to lick his cum-coated cock clean.
It wasn't until the other pony walked out of the room that she broke down crying.
Hot tears flowed down her face as she hugged her knees, sobs wracking her body. The secretary could probably hear her. She wouldn't help. She needed to run, to wipe the thick, disgusting cum off her face, grab her clothes and bolt, flee home and shower for days in scalding hot water and never come to this place ever again, but she couldn't. All she could do is sit, cry, and suck.
"Hey now," Filthy had reached under the table to stroke her hair. "Cry if you must, but be a doll and do it with my balls in your mouth, please."
She could only obey. His sack filled her mouth, making her cheeks swell out. Her sobs died down into snivels as she sucked him clean of sweat. Once she was calm, Filthy guided her up to fellate him once more.
The intercom buzzed. This time, Filthy didn't get a chance to answer it before a pony burst through the doors.
"Daddy!"
Oh no.
Cheerilee couldn't do this, couldn't blow Filthy Rich like a common whore while he spoke to his daughter - her student! - as if nothing was happening. She had to come up, stop for a moment, just until Diamond Tiara had gone. He'd let her, surely he wouldn't make her-
He slid the chair forward and pushed down hard on the back of her head. The tip of his cock pushed past her tonsils, his whole prick sliding into her mouth until her nose was buried in his pubic hair and his balls were flush against her chin. Her eyes went wide and she struggled, but it was hopeless. With her arms bound and her whole body cramped under the tiny desk, there was nothing she could do to escape without revealing herself. She whimpered softly, and prayed he would let her up for air soon.
"Daddy, I've got half a milkshake and a whole bag of cheese fries, but I'm full. Would you like them?"
Filthy Rich chuckled. "No thanks, sweetheart, just put them in the bin."
Cheerilee heard the slush and rustle as a half-eaten meal was unceremoniously dumped on top of her clothes. Her vision was swimming from lack of air. Her tongue and throat convulsed wildly, trying to clear a breath, but only brought Filthy more pleasure.
Diamond Tiara chattered away to her father about her plans for the week, where she'd been shopping, her friends, her mother, and a smattering of other topics. Cheerilee was allowed three brief gulps of air in this time, but spent the rest of the conversation with her lips mashed against Filthy Rich's pubic bone. The teenage filly seemed totally oblivious to the mare below the desk, which was a small mercy at least.
There was a thump above her as Diamond Tiara clambered onto the desk, leaning over to kiss her father goodbye. Cheerilee was too far under to see anything but the shadow she cast, and as Diamond's lips touched her father's cheeks, Filthy Rich came deep in the teacher's throat. She panicked as the cock throbbed in her esophagus, pouring hot jizz straight down into her belly, but she had nowhere to go. The moment Diamond Tiara got off the desk, Filthy pulled her head up, letting her taste the last spurt of ropey, disgusting jizz.
"I'll see you tonight, sweetheart," said Filthy Rich, as his daughter stood in the doorway. Cheerilee gasped for breath beneath him.
"You too, daddy," replied Diamond. "And say hi to Cheerilee for me!"
Cheerilee's stomach dropped as the door shut behind the filly, and the cock was forced back in her mouth before she could protest. She cried softly around it, utterly humiliated. Every day at school, every class she taught with Diamond Tiara in it, the teenager would look at her and she would know. And who else knew?
The day stretched on. Filthy Rich came in her mouth twice before lunchtime, once when the office was empty, the other time when Mayor Mare had dropped in to discuss sponsorship. The taste was still sickening, and the horrible humid heat under the desk made her skin-crawlingly nauseous. Her mouth was now so numb that she could barely tell if she was swallowing or now, and the obscenely thick consistency of his jizz made it hard to tell if it was going down or simply being pushed around her mouth with her tongue.
At lunchtime, Filthy gave her a break. She stood up on shaky legs, tottered over to the open bin, and vomited in it. It tasted worse on the way up. She was still spitting bile and backwash from her mouth when Filthy grabbed her by the mane and led her back to the desk, forcing her to her knees, and pushing her face into the pile of jizz and slobber that had collected on his chair.
She stuck her tongue out and lapped at the goo. It had cooled and congealed to the consistency of aspic, and there was enough to fill half a coffee mug. The fishy, bitter taste was overwhelming. She pushed the mess around with her tongue, but it was too thick and cold to move. Whimpering, she pursed her lips, pressed it to the puddle, and slurped it up as if drinking through a straw.
Bile rose in her throat and she needed to be sick. She bent over to spit the-
"Mmmph!"
Filthy had pulled her head back and clamped a hand over her mouth. She breathed hard through her stuffy nose. She couldn't spit it out. She couldn't vomit. She could only swallow.
The foul, cold liquid slid down her throat. He pushed her face back down to the chair. She swallowed the next mouthful without his help.
"P-please, no more..." She looked up at him from the freshly-cleaned seat, shaking her head. "I d-don't want to do any more today, it's too much, I can't-"
Filthy pushed a bottle of water to her lips. "Drink."
She cringed, but drank it down gratefully sip by sip. She was shivering all over.
"T-tomorrow," she said, "I c-can do more to - ah!"
She squealed as Filthy grabbed her mane and forced her back under his desk. He was hard again. She opened her mouth.
Filthy pressed the intercom. "Send the next one in, please."
---
The next several hours were torture. Filthy Rich took longer to orgasm, but seemed even more intent on reaching it. He took phonecalls in one hand while palming her head like a basketball in the other, bouncing her mouth up and down on his dick to a steady chorus of *glok* *glok* *glock* sounds. He attached an alligator clip to her nipple, tied to a length of twine, and used it to 'encourage' her to give a more sensual blowjob, bobbing and twisting her head, lavishing it with spit as she sucked and licked, and trying to pull her nipple off when he felt she was slacking. She blew him as he carried out a job interview, gulping down his cum as the prospective employee lied about her greatest weaknesses. His orgasms were less powerful but never failed to fill her mouth to bulging, and the cum remained as bitter and stringy as ever.
Another phone call. Filthy pushed her down to his root, her lips already bruised and swollen from being battered against his pubic bone, and held her there. He was having a tense discussion with a zoning official, and his thrusts became rougher as he grew more annoyed. When Cheerilee was at the base, he began slapping his palm on the back of her skull, sending waves of pain through her head, neck and spine and pushing a little bit further into her mouth. He traded Cheerilee's crushing misery for a fleeting increase in his own pleasure.
She threw up before he could cum again, nothing but jizz, water and bile. It shot out from her nose and spewed out around his cock. He grunted in surprise, but seemed unbothered. He let her raise her head to take a breath, though not high enough for the tip of his cock to leave her mouth.
"You can clean that up later, keep sucking for now..."
The intercom buzzed, and Filthy told his secretary to send them in.
"Yo, Mister Rich, I've got news." Cheerilee vaguely recognized the voice. Male, and unpleasant.
Filthy Rich coughed. "If it's about our enterprise, save it for later. There are, ahem, 'innocent ears' around."
"Oh, okay, is little Diamond around here somewhere?"
"No, nothing of the sort. I have a mare under my desk, performing her feminine duties."
Cheerilee's blood ran cold. She stopped sucking for a moment until a savage tug on her nipple clamp spurred her on. With horror, she felt Filthy pulling away from her, shuffling his chair backwards and then beckoning her to catch up. She was now in plain sight, unhidden, mouth filled with cock.
The other pony laughed. "You damn horndog, Filthy! Who's the whore?"
"The local schoolteacher, Cheerilee."
"The purple one? Damn, I've wanted a piece of that ass for years..."
"Come round and have a look."
The stallion walked around to the side of the desk. Filthy turned Cheerilee's head to look at him, but kept his dick in her mouth, the tip pushing up into her cheek, stretching it and making it swell out like a chipmunk. She looked at the new stallion through bloodshot eyes. The garbage pony, dull brown, greasy haired, perpetually dirty.
She felt lower than she had felt in her entire life. She wished to simply disappear. There was nothing she could do to escape. She could only continue her blowjob.
"What a hot cunt," said the garbage pony. "How'd you line that one up?"
"She'd been 'adjusting' the test scores of her less financially fortunate students to help them gain entry to prestigious academies. The standardized tests are contracted out to a subsidiary of Barnyard Bargains. She was caught and, well, she worked out an arrangement to incentivize me to hide it."
"Yeah? She get canned if word gets out?"
Filthy chuckled softly, caressing Cheerilee's cheek with faux tenderness. "Oh, I doubt it. The tests aren't government approved and teaching contracts are rather secure. They'd dock her pay if she was unlucky, but that would be the extent of it. Her prized pupils, on the other hand, would all have their scholarships revoked. They might even be expelled. Their darling teacher won't allow such a fate to befall them..."
"Hah! I take it she sucks a mean dick..."
"Indeed. Care to try?"
No please no oh Celestia please no
"Nah, you look like you're having fun with her. I got one idea though..."
"By all means, go ahead."
Cheerilee heard the garbage pony kneel down next to her, and she could feel his eyes boring into her skull as she sucked. She heard grunting and rhythmic, fleshy noises, and smelled something worse even than Filthy Rich's jizz and sweat, something like musk mixed with rotting fruit, old socks, and bin juice. The pony was jerking off.
Filthy's orgasm took her by surprise, filling her mouth and shooting out of her nose. He didn't let her up until he had finished cumming, of course, but he let go of her head as soon as she'd suckled the last drops from his tip. She sat back on her heels, gasping for breath. Both stallions were grinning at her.
"You got me so horny that I made a little mess," said the garbage pony. "Clean it up."
He pointed to a puddle of semen on the carpet. It was thinner than Filthy's, translucent, with a disgusting yellow tint to it. It did not look appealing.
"Do as the man says, Cheerilee."
She swallowed and tried to snort the cum clear from her nostrils to little avail, and then bent down to reach the puddle. It smelled like week-old fish. As she steeled her stomach, the garbage pony shuffled behind her.
Cheerilee shrieked as the garbage pony gripped her tights and tore a wide hole in the crotch. She tried to raise her head, but he forced it back down into the puddle.
"Face down, ass up, cunt," he spat. "Uncle Pigpen's gonna test out your shithole while you eat his spunk."
She lapped at the mess, and squealed at the twin sensations of tasting something more disgusting than she could possibly imagine while a pony shoved a dry, thick finger one knuckle deep into her asshole.
"Stop!" she cried.
He ignored her, twisting his finger clockwise and counter-clockwise before pushing it in to the second knuckle.
"Please!"
"Shut the fuck up." He pulled the finger out to the tip, then placed a second fingertip on her anus, and began to work the pair in together. "You better get licking right fucking now, because if you're not done by the time I'm three knuckles deep, my cock is going up your ass and I'll ream you so hard you'll be in diapers for a week."
She whimpered but lowered her head to lick up the liquid. The taste was beyond awful. Filthy's tasted like fresh cream in comparison. She tried to suck it up but it was hard, both because of the thin consistency, and the distraction of two fingers fucking in and out of her dry asshole. It felt like it was on the verge of tearing, every movement sending shooting, stabbing pains through her insides to match the burning ache of having her anus stretched open.
Cheerilee gulped down the last of the soupy mess but continued licking at the cheap, jizz-soaked carpet to avoid angering them. Her legs twitched in pain as Pigpen finally got his fingers three-knuckles deep in her ass. Both stallions laughed at her misery. Pigpen pulled his fingers clear in one rough yank, causing her to yelp and fall flat on her face.
He rolled her over and held his fingers up to her face. They looked clean - at least, as clean as any part of his body - and there was no detritus, but they had the unmistakable stink of shit about them. Before she could protest, he forced them into her mouth and rubbed them over her tongue.
"Clean 'em."
Cheerilee burned with shame as she sucked her own ass-juice from this degenerate's fingers. She swirled her tongue around them until he was satisfied and finally withdrew them.
"Look up at me."
The moment she did, he spat in her left eye. She flinched and hung her head as he stood up.
"Thanks for the opportunity, Mister Rich."
"Any time, my friend. If you'd like an... extended session with this one, we can certainly arrange something."
"I'll keep that in mind. I'll see you later, Mister Rich. You too, cunt."
Cheerilee lay on a ball on the floor for after Pigpen left, shivering and aching, as Filthy Rich attended to his paperwork. The sun had gone down. This horrible day was almost over.
Eventually, Filthy ordered her to lap up the mixture of cum and backwash she'd left on the chair. It was a grim task, but no more degrading than anything else she had done that day. After licking the chair clean, and the spots of cum on the floor clean, and Filthy's thighs clean, he ordered her to lick his balls.
Her heart sunk. She would lick his balls, he'd become hard, and he'd fuck her face and the cycle would repeat. She resigned herself to the task. As she suckled, her gaze twitched upwards fearfully, just waiting for the half-hard cock to stiffen and begin her suffering anew.
Five minutes later, he still wasn't hard. Ten minutes later, he had gone soft, his cock flopping down onto her forehead. Fifteen minutes later, it had mostly retreated into its sheath.
"Well, I think that's it for tonight," said Filthy Rich. He stood up and unlocked her handcuffs. She stretched her arms and shoulders gingerly as she made it to her feet.
"Thank y-you, sir," she murmured.
"You're welcome. Now, leave, I have work to finish."
Cheerilee turned, and stopped as she felt the cold air on her cum-slicked neck and tits. "My clothes-"
"Where you left them."
She hurried towards the bin and opened it. Her face fell as she dug out her blouse and skirt. They were ruined, coated in a mixture of hours-old milkshake, half-eaten burgers, and cum-vomit.
"I c-can't wear these..."
Filthy shrugged. "Go naked, then. This is a seedy area of town. Anyone who sees you will probably just assume you've finished a shift at the whorehouse."
She turned to face him, her eyes pleading.
He sighed. "I can have my secretary fetch a change of clothes. Some wet-wipes, too. But I'll need you to do something for me, first."
"Please, anything."
Filthy Rich smirked his cold, cold smirk, and rifled through his desk drawers until he pulled out a pint glass. He placed it atop the desk, stood over it, and let the tip of his cock dangle from his sheath just over the lip of the glass.
Cheerilee watched with horror as hot yellow piss sprayed out from his cock directly into the glass. The level climbed rapidly, frothing like cheap cider, while Filthy sighed contentedly. It was his first piss since he had arrived at the office, and he was enjoying every second of it. His flow tapered off after nearly filling the glass, the foam just reaching above the rim before dissipating.
He pushed the pint of piss across the table towards Cheerilee as she looked at him, mouth agape.
"It's no worse than anything else you've done today, if you think about it," he said matter-of-factly. "You've spent eight hours drinking liquid straight from my dick, and this is barely any different. You might not fancy yourself to be a rich businessman's personal urinal, but this way at least you can retain some semblance of dignity as you leave here. It's your decision, after all."
Cheerilee picked up the pint of piss, the glass hideously warm in her hand, and made her choice.