Cunt.

To many mares, it was a degrading slur, a term for a mare who was useless save for the wet slit between her rear legs.

To me, it was a badge of honor, growled into my ear as I was taken by one of the many, many stallions I'd bedded over the years. It was a symbol that I was lusted after, that my body was desirable, that ponies wanted to use me as much as I needed to be used.

Of course, most “dignified” ponies would disagree. I imagine Rarity and the others would be absolutely aghast to find out that their timid little yellow friend was a wanton bitch who ran through at least two cocks a night when no pony in respectable society was looking. No, that just wouldn't do. How would I be able to function in society with all the judgmental glares. I had enough trouble dealing with outside pressure as it is. Most ponies didn't need it like I did, however.

Quite a catch twenty-two, yes? I couldn't function in society unless I sated my urges, but I couldn't sate my urges and function in society. At least not openly. Needless to say, when ponies heard a mare's moans among the howls and shrieks of the Everfree's denizens, it was usually me.

However, sometimes I just needed a pony. Or a griffin, donkey or dragon. Just something that can speak! A snake can't whisper huskily into my ear. A manticore can't tell me what he expects, or how to serve him.

How fortunate for me, then, that my good friend Rainbow Dash had helped me get on the internet. A wonderful little network that ponies could use to talk to one another over great distances. Rainbow no doubt expected me to use it to look up cute cat pictures and gardening tips. Instead, I would only ever use it to set up meetings. I've done it many times now, usually with high-society types who, like me, couldn't afford to be seen rutting anything that caught his eye like some sort of animal, or visitors looking for a treat they just couldn't get at Sugar Cube Corner or Sweet Apple Acres.

Of course, actually going to meet a partner in public had its own issues. I couldn't exactly walk up to some stud in Sugar Cube corner and take him to my cabin, at least not without getting the attention of the local gossips. No, there were rules. If they came to Ponyville, they paid for the hotel, and if I came to their town, I paid. A stranger's name on a guest list never aroused suspicion the way the town's mayor would. And always, always, the home pony wore a disguise. Something to catch the other party's eye without exposing her identity to those whose lives were so meaningless that they derived their pleasure from invading the privacy of others.

Me, I always wore a black spandex bodysuit, tight enough to show off my form while completely hiding anything that could identify me. My eyes are hidden behind tinted lenses fitted onto a spandex mask, and my mane and tail are tucked tightly against my body to fit them inside, leaving nothing that can give even a hint that it's actually the charming little veterinarian at the edge of town that's going into the hotel with that strange stallion that no pony's seen before.

Today, I was in my disguise and walking along the market. It was the rare instance that I was looking for another Ponyville pony, so while he was looking for a pony that was in a black bodysuit and full-face mask, I was looking for a stallion in a tuxedo with top hat and a surgeon's mask. Neither of us had exchanged photos online since he couldn't rely on not having ponies looking over my shoulder, and assumed I'd have the same issue, so all I had to go by was the disguise. Hopefully he had the good sense to hide his mane in his hat, or at least his mane and tail color wouldn't just scream out who it was the way mine would.

I found him standing in front of sugar cube corner, nursing a milkshake with a straw poked through the surgeon's mask as he stood next to the door. It was hard to tell between the mask and hat, but he seemed to have a dark, blood-colored coat. No doubt it would be much more pleasant to look at once we dispatched with these outfits.

I walked up to him and rub my flank against his. Three gyrations of my hips, just enough to get the message across.

He nodded at me and I can see he has deep, piercing emerald eyes. Oh yes, he looks like he'll be all sorts of fun. I could see his muscles rippling underneath the too-small tuxedo, just waiting to pound his cock deep inside a whore's ass. “Suffer the harsh winter's wind...” he said, struggling to maintain a fake Trottingham accent.

My Trottingham accent, however, was perfect as I recited my part of the code phrase, the result of years of practice with other encounters throughout Equestria. “... For it bares aloft the next spring's seeds.”

Nodding softly, he started walking ahead of me. “Follow me, my lady.” For a moment, I swore I heard an orchard accent slip through the affected tone. “I know just the place.”

“Of course, darling,” I replied. Perhaps, if we decided to make this a regular event, I could offer him some voice coaching.

He led me out of the town proper and to the apple farm, and for a moment I wonder why we were going here of all places. “This seems a fine place to be spotted.” Even as I expressed my concern, I never let my voice falter. Stallions tended to like the idea that they were filling a posh Trottingham hussy full of their cum, and I could tell he was no exception by the way his tuxedo tightened between his rear legs.

He was silent, however, until we were out of sight of any of the barns, out in the middle several trees that had already been picked clean. He stopped in front of one tree in particular and lowered his head, pulling on a patch of false grass with his teeth to reveal a trap door. Bad as he was in keeping an image, he seemed to understand the importance of having a spot no pony we knew would walk in on. I would have to ask him how to set up a lair like this, if only so I could set up my own under the cottage.

I climbed down the ladder first, allowing him to shut us back in before he followed. Thankfully, there were lit candles along the walls, since an earth pony and a pegasus weren't going to get much done in pitch black. The room was just how I liked it: dusty, with cobwebs in the corners. It was unfurnished, save for several sacks of grain and seed strewn about, probably as a cover in case any pony discovered it. As much fun as hotels and beds were, nothing quite beat the feeling of being pounded while splayed out on the floor, existing only to be used and discarded so the next horny stallion could have a turn.

Once we were in and sure that no pony would interrupt the proceedings, I began to pull off the body suit. I unzipped the sides and pulled off the tight fitting spandex, feeling the familiar pull against my sweaty, trembling skin. I reached up with my left fore-hoof, ripping off my mask, then shook my head wildly to straighten out my mane and pull it off my sticky back. I was a sexy little piece of flank, if I did say so myself.

“M-Miss F-Fluttershy!?” No doubt about it, that was an orchard accent. He wasn't even trying to hide it anymore. I looked over at the stallion, who was now looking at me with bulging eyes, his hat slipping off as he stared dumbfounded. Without the shade of his hat, I could now see that his coat was a much brighter, primary shade of red, and I could make out the freckles on his cheeks even through the mask, along with a dull blonde mane and tail.

I wasn't going to say no to him fucking me just because he was Applejack's brother, but I needed to make something absolutely clear. “You say even one thing outside of this room to any pony,” I hissed, “and I'll make sure I'm not the only one who's reputation suffers.”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac replied with a distant voice, slowly pulling off that stupid mask with a stiff, seemingly robotic hoof. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as he stood there in a dumb silence, no doubt trying to parse the conflicting image of sweet, angelic Fluttershy being the cock-hungry nympho he'd set up this little meeting with.

Honestly, I couldn't give a damn about his little crisis of conscious. What I cared about was that he was a giant, hulking monster of a pony, and that heaven was between his legs. I sauntered over to him slowly, swaying my rear and swishing my tail in that exaggerated way that always got a horny stallion's attention. I got right up in his face, then planted my lips firmly against his. Not waiting for a reaction, I reached for his tux and ripped it off with all the force I can muster, my wings immediately springing up as the scent of apples and sweaty male filled my nostrils.

Finally, I broke off the kiss and slipped back into my posh Trottingham accent. “I trust this isn't going to be a problem, darling?”

“Eenope.” Good. Just what I wanted to hear. His forelegs wrapped around my withers in an embrace, forcing his tongue down my throat.

As his emerald eyes stared into my turquoise ones and began to harden with confidence, I knew that I was in for one hell of a rutting.

Author's Note

Originally written for Sexty Minute Ponies Prompt #111, however, the hour concluded before I could get to the action, which will be the next chapter.