Recreational

Trixie led him through the dirty alley, carefully navigating soggy cardboard boxes and flicking her slick silvery tail, trying to keep the groggy stallion under her spell. She could tell she was slowly losing him on the long walk to their destination, and her heart flipped nervously. If she didn’t get her bits tonight, she would face the grim withdrawal as the drug drained out of her system, and she couldn’t bear it. Not again. She was already weakening and feared what would happen when she finally came down. Not that she had been on much of a high – Trixie had already become accustomed to her dosage, and nothing much different was happening to her, her life a blurry haze of uncertainty, unsure if under the influence of narcotics or not. She contemplated this and wondered if she could do anything to get her fix cheaper – she remembered seeing ponies with unprepared heroin in the alley where she bought hers, but she had no idea if it was cheaper. Starting from her thoughts, she had noticed that she’d just been taking the stallion wherever the alley led, unsure of where to go. She dropped back, letting him take the lead, shedding a private tear at her circumstances behind his large back.

In the warm and small room of one of Ponyville’s many motels, Trixie slammed the door in the bathroom, exhaling shakily and looking at herself in the mirror. She wiped at the faint streaks of black under her eyes and took a deep breath, using her magic to pull a sprig of herb out of her leather jacket. She grimaced and put it in her mouth, chewing hesitantly and swallowing the stem, sticking her tongue out in disgust. She silently opened the door and found the stallion lying on the bed, waiting for her arrival. He promptly stood up, his height towering over her intimidatingly, his ochre mane falling over his eyes. He took a step forward, pushing Trixie back into the corner, and pinned her there. Unintentionally, Trixie whimpered meekly, but before she could regain her confidence, his hoof connected with her jaw.

“I bought you. And tonight, you are my slave.” He spat, his normal country accent lost in the coldness of the words. Trixie nodded, trying to ignore the punch. She had come across stallions of his type before.

“Y-yes… master.” She whispered. She slipped off her leather jacket, baring her shoulders and looking up at him with seemingly innocent violet eyes. Her jaw stung, and she intended to comply with whatever he wished, for her safety more that his pleasure. He looked into the orbs and softened momentarily, before remembering himself and pushing her head down roughly to his manhood.

Trixie stroked it tentatively, biting her lip and still staring up at him.  His eyes fluttered closed, the organ growing stiffer at her every touch. Trixie stood up, abruptly breaking contact with him, all business.

“The bits.” She said, knowing not to be polite about the subject. “Payment first, service second.”

“E-eyup…” he said, still lost in bliss. He scrambled to a bag full of the golden bits, letting Trixie sift through them, checking that they were all there. But Trixie knew to extend common courtesy and bent over whilst she counted, her smooth flanks defined under the taut leather enveloping them. She flicked her tail playfully, and as she finished counting, turned around to look at him, painting her expression to be meek and scared. The scared part didn’t take much pretending, for she had felt the force of his blow, and knew that a lot of pressure was on her to do everything right for the hefty amount of bits secured in the small bag.

She took a deep breath and ran her hooves through her mane seductively, batting her heavily made-up eyelashes and moaning sensually.

“I’m yours, master.”

That was all the strapping stallion needed, and he was soon on top of her, his lips sucking greedily on hers. The kiss was aggressive, and Trixie squirmed underneath, bucking in all directions. A few kicks hit him, and whenever they did, he moaned, pressing deeper into the kiss, pinning Trixie down with his powerful hooves, leaving her no room to move.  The stallions tongue battled against hers violently, pushing it back and biting on her lips, washing saliva through her mouth. Trixie tried to retaliate, but his powerful tongue always pushed her back, and only when Trixie felt the tip of his shaft brush her stomach did she break from the kiss, a line of saliva stretching in the gap  between them. She tried to avert from his stare as she slid onto him, muffling her moan as best as she could. He roughly bucked into her, and she let a yelp escape from her mouth, his slick penis withdrawing from her only to buck in again. Trixie whimpered and gripped at the criss –crossed material on her legs, ripping a fresh hole in one stocking, her eyes shut. Her silvery mane fell over her eyes as he increased in pace, his loud grunts punctuated with sharp slaps to her flank.

“Faster…” she gasped, groaning. “I’m your little dirty slave!”

Her cries drove the stallion faster, his member throbbing inside as she tightened and relaxed around him, clenching tufts of his mane as she leant back against the wall, Trixie’s thrusts synchronising with his as she gasped for air, trying to make herself as loud as possible to spur him on. Groans and panting filled the room and Trixie bucked at his legs as she came to her orgasm, wailing and thrashing around, exaggerating her orgasm, acting as though no other could make her feel that way. As she floated down from the peak, her eyes watered slightly as she dreamt of real love, not a one night stand where names were never exchanged and nothing was ever passionate, her motive a heavy bag of bits, not love. She only focused again when the stallion released his sticky juices inside of her, roaring at punching Trixie harder than before, continuing beating her whilst his manhood continued spurting small bursts of the sticky white liquid over her, pushing her face back and allowing it to drip onto her, running into her mouth. Trixie remained silent, taking the beatings even though he had no right to lay a hoof on her. He tugged her silvery mane hard, spitting in her face as the last spurt of cum trickled out.

“My filthy slave. I treat you good, don’t I? Your daddy treats you good. Tell me how I treat you, you little whore!” he yelled, stamping on the floor.

“You treat me good.” Trixie said, panting and clutching her jaw. “You… You treat me good, alright.”

He smirked and pushed her on the bed, ramming his tongue into her nether regions, delving deeper and furiously stroking himself, giving himself more pleasure than Trixie. When he finally withdrew his head, he slapped at her flank again, but this time he looked at the curved blue moon with the purple wand resting on it.

“What in tarnation?” he said, still staring at Trixie’s cutie mark. She quickly flipped over, her flank high up in the air as she bent over and starting licking the base of his cock, teasing her way up it and tentatively licking the head, hoping he would forget what he had seen in the heat of the moment. Her prayers were answered as he shut his mouth, forcing her head down onto his shaft with a considerable force. Trixie breathed hard on him, licking and teasing whilst he continued to beat her. It became clear to her that violence was the stallions choice of fetish, and she bit down hard on his cock, a whinny and snort ringing through the room from his mouth.

“Again.” He panted, his words failing him. Trixie ignored his request for a while, teasing him before finally obliging and biting down, even harder than before.  His second load came hurtling down her throat, and Trixie swallowed against her will, with no other choice. His lips clamped against hers as they swirled a mixture of their saliva and his cum around in their mouths, Trixie silently weeping. She felt disgusting, dirty, foul. She wished nothing more than to be back in Ponyville, in her magnificent cart in all its splendour, still a virgin and clean of drugs, adored by everypony for her magic.

Trixie opened her eyes slowly, taking in the unfamiliar sight of the motel room, her eyes tracing over the plainly furnished room before she fully could remember why she was there – her memory jogged when the red stallion let out a snore, still tired from the night before. Trixie had no doubt that a massive hangover was festering for him, and he deserved every last bit of it, she thought, inspecting the bruises on her body and tenderly touching her still aching jaw.  Her eyes grew wide in shock and she jumped out of the bed, running to the leather jacket that was slung over a rickety looking chair, and frantically searching the pockets, finding them to be empty. She sighed with relief and sat back down on the bed, sure that she had taken the birth-control herb the night before.  She looked at her powder blue fur, covered in sticky stains, and touched her matted mane, again unruly after taking her time to tame it. She peeped in the bathroom again to see that it had a shower with working hot water, and she privately indulged in it, warm tears mingling with the stream of water as she tried to rub off the best of the stains without the assistance of soap, something that had not been provided. She turned off the water and stepped out, towelling her mane with the threadbare towels near the bed, and took the bag of bits, leaving the motel and returning home to think about her next fix.