Whorn: A Debutante's Dark Descent Into Debauchery

Hi. I’m Fluttershy. Um, so, anyway, this chapter is filled with my friend Rarity’s naughty deeds and naughty thoughts so if any little fillies or colts are reading this in a bookstore without your mommy or daddy around, you should really put this book down right now and maybe find a nice animal story book to look at. Won’t you do that for me? Pretty please? Thank you.

Dear Diary,

Making compromises on my preferences is something that I am not in the habit of doing yet that is exactly what I did since my situation is rather unique. To my dismay, I only received a fraction of what I was expecting when I made my way out to that Celestia forsaken dustbunny of a town. I’m on the redeye train to Ponyville as I write this and it couldn’t be any more appropriately named as my eyes are red with anger. I wasn’t swindled, per se, but I certainly don’t feel as though I received anything worth the trouble of coming out here.

When I last shared my thoughts with you, I was standing in front of the Cherry Hill Ranch.

“Miss Rarity, as ah live and breathe; welcome back ta Cherry Hill Ranch.”

Those were the words spoken to me mere seconds after turning around to go back to the station to see if the prostitute might have given me the wrong information. I turned back around and saw Cherry Jubilee, the ranch owner, standing there with a warm smile for me. Despite the overall negative experience she would leave me with by day’s end, I must say that I simply adore her updo and she hit the genetic lottery with that beauty mark of hers. I asked her how she was able to recognize me. She smiled and said that even though my hair was now blond, she never forgot a pretty face, especially one belonging to a former worker of hers.

Worker. That was the signal word I was told to wait for from the contact. It was then my turn to give the password in a reply and I had 30 seconds in which to say the password at the end of a sentence or there would be no deal. At least it was an innocent enough word where it wouldn’t come off sounding too strange if Miss Jubilee wasn’t my contact.

“Yes, well, after wearing it for a few hours, I’ve decided that blond doesn’t really suit me,” I said. “I was thinking of a color with a bit more sass; something like... cerise.”

Her eyes locked on to mine. She didn’t blink. She paused for quite a while before replying.

“Well, that is a bold color choice, Miss Rarity,” she said. “Come to think of it, ah don’t believe that ah ever paid you for that afternoon you put in. Why don’t we go up to the house so ah can cut you a check from mah office?”

I nodded and followed her up the steps to her house.

Her office was nicer than most ponies’ homes. Sculptures, flowers, paintings, antique furnishings – it’s a veritable museum with file cabinets. When I first visited the place, I was curious as to how the cherry business had afforded her this interior decorator’s wet dream. Now I knew that cherries alone didn’t pay for this swag. She diversified her portfolio. There was a tiny platter of dried cherries on her desk that was there for guests to snack on and I helped myself to some. They were extraordinary so I had some more. And some more. I don’t even remember what I ate before this.

A buff young unicorn stallion in a black suit jacket and dark sunglasses stood motionless just inside the door. His coat was tan and his yellow mane was slicked back and tied in a ponytail. He wore a neutral expression and did nothing other than try to look imposing. How adorable. Why, I’ll wager that he took this job to pay off his student loans when he learned that his college hoofball career wasn’t going to take off the way he’d hoped.

“Hello again, Miss Rarity,” said Miss Jubilee. “Welcome to mah other business.”

Finally, we could get down to brass tacks.

“So you’re the ‘Madame of Dodge Junction’?” I asked.

She smiled, put her hind legs up on her desk and crossed them.

“Darlin’,” she said with confidence, “If ya can tell me honestly that ya thought ah was involved in a trade other than the sex industry the first time ya laid eyes on me, ah’ll believe ya. Go on. I’m waitin’.”

I smiled and blushed. She had me dead to rights. When the girls and I found Applejack in Dodge Junction and I saw Miss Jubilee, my first thought was that Applejack had been swept up in a life of sin and vice, selling her body on a nightly basis to line this mare’s coffers with bits. And Applejack’s hesitation to explain the reason for her new servitude to Miss Jubilee gave my theory even more fuel.

Rarity, if you’re reading this, I have a confession to make. I can’t take care of myself and it’s because I’m just an ignorant little hayseed and you hush up, Rainbow Dash.

I didn’t say anything.

Oh, Rarity, I have no idea what I’m doing from one minute to the next. It’s a miracle I haven’t forgotten how to get out of bed in the morning. Would you hold my hoof from now on so that the big, bad ponies in the world don’t take advantage of me? Give me some credit, girl. I’m an adult. Sheesh.

(Author’s edit: You’re absolutely right, Applejack. I’m sorry I got so carried away.)

While we’re on the subject, I’ve got to admit: I thought Cherry Jubilee looked like a hooker, too.

Well, I thought that she was very sweet. I remember when we were sitting in her office and filling out those job applications, she gave us all a tall cool glass of cherry juice. And she wasn’t even mad at us when we told her we made a mess of the sorting room.

That’s because it’s old hat to her, Fluttershy.

Old hat?

Yeah. It’s not like she’s never lost a cherry before! PFFTHAHAHAHAHA!

HA HA HAAAAA HA HA HA!

Heeheeheeheeheeheehee!

Guys. Focus.

I didn’t think she looked like a hooker, per se, but she definitely fit the madame profile. The grand way she spoke, the mother hen way she treated Applejack – and then there was that beauty mark. A dead giveaway if ever there was one.

“I can’t,” I said. “My apologies.”

“Aw, there’s no need ta apologize,” she said. “First impressions are what they are, right? Now, how can ah help ya? Are ya seeking more... gainful employment? We have some very particular clients who’d pay top bit for a night with a mare of yer fine breeding.”

“Thanks but no thanks, Miss Jubilee,” I said. “I’ve actually come for the, uh, services... which your brothel provides.”

I was moments away from securing my hornjob. I could feel myself getting damp with anticipation.

Yeah, I think I might just sit the rest of this chapter out.

You and me both.

Prudes.

Um, then I guess I won’t comment, either. Oh, wait, does that count as a comment?

“You want ta bed one o’ mah mares?” she asked, staring at me in disbelief.

“Oh, no-no-no-no-no-no-no,” I said. My throat was dry. “You misunderstand me. I’m not a filly-fooler. I’d like a stallion for my, ah, partner. Ahem. One who specializes in, ah... hornjobs, if possible. And I don’t want to bed your stallion, exactly. I just want one little hornjob. He won’t even have to get naked. Once he makes me unicum, I’ll be on my merry way. Ha ha.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, shaking her head. “Ah’m sorry but ah don’t have any stallions here. Not countin’ security... but guardin’ my establishment, protectin’ my girls and ensurin’ customers’ privacy is all they’re paid ta do. The only customers ah get are stallions and they all want mares. Gay stallions don’t come around here; neither do straight mares, unless those mares are lookin’ fer a position with mah company. Ah don’t know where ya heard ah had stallions on the payroll but ah’m afraid ya heard wrong. Ah wish ah could help ya.”

What a cruel joke this was. You know, it’s bad enough to know that there are so few good stallions around who are worthy of me. Now I knew that there weren’t even any hard luck stallions to give me a quick release when I really needed it!

The story of my life.

“Oh,” I said. “Well, I have come all the way from Ponyville and I would hate to go back emptyhooved so while it may not be my first choice, I suppose I could make do with a hornjob... from... a mare if I must.”

“Ah like yer attitude, Miss Rarity. When life hoofs ya lemons, ya make mareade.”

Mareade. That made me think of a pitcher full of vaginal secretions, sugar and lemon juice. Thank you, imagination.

Oh, Celestia, I laughed for a whole twenty minutes the first time I read that.

“Do ya have any preferences?” she asked. “Pegasus? Earth Pony? Unicorn? Long mane? Short mane? Mane color? Coat color?”

Just how many mares did she have on standby that I had such a variety of options?

“Since I plan on keeping my eyes closed the entire time,” I said, “I suppose that one mare’s as good as the next. Why don’t I let you pick one out for me?”

“Fair enough,” she said.

“As we’ll be conducting business, might I inquire as to the fee you charge for your services?”

“Mah dear, the first visit is on the house.”

“Oh? That’s most generous of you, Miss Jubilee. Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, Miss Rarity. Bosco here will show ya to yer room and a lovely mare will be along with ya shortly. Have a good time.”

Bosco was very easy on the eyes, Diary. He was a tad young but I like my stallions slightly younger than myself, provided that they’re mature for their age. Truthfully, I was just glad to see any stallion. I followed him downstairs and we walked down a well lit corridor with dozens of doors on either side of it. It was in sharp contrast to the beauty of the office. The walls of the corridor were unfinished wood paneling without so much as a drop of paint to be found. It made sense; nopony would ever come here for the atmosphere and the rooms themselves were probably much nicer. Why not save money where you can, right? I lagged behind so that I could watch Bosco’s tight little bottom wiggle as he walked, which was easy to do since he conveniently wore his tail so short. He stopped walking and turned to his right. Using a key, he unlocked the door in front of him and stepped to one side, allowing me to enter. I gave him my best pleasant grin and trotted inside, closing and locking the door behind me. I would have loved to have seen his eyes.

The room was larger than I thought it would be. It was half the size of my own bedroom and that’s saying something. The walls here had paint on them, cerise, to be exact. The four poster bed had matching sheets and down pillows that were shaped like hearts. There were nightstands on either side of the bed and they both featured an assortment of bottled liquids, adult novelties and restraints. I knew what some of these items were used for. Those that I didn’t recognize, I preferred not knowing their intended purpose. Attached to the ceiling above the bed was an enormous mirror, the same size as the bed. Call me tacky but if it wasn’t so closely associated with lustful indulgence, I would absolutely have a mirror installed above my bed.

As I sat on the bed waiting on “my mare” to show, I heard the door to the room to the left of mine open and shut. Moments later, I heard the unmistakable sound of a stallion moaning in pleasure. I walked to the wall and placed my ear against it. I heard him moan once more and then a mare’s moan followed soon afterward. Straight sex was happening! I thought for a moment that Cherry Jubilee was lying to me about not having stallions for me until I deduced that the stallion in question was one of her customers. I heard the continuous slapping of flesh against flesh and my heart beat double time as I flattened the side of my face against the wall to catch every sound the two ponies next door were making. I don’t know what possessed me to do so but I lifted the front of my dress, licked my hoof and rubbed it up and down my clitoris repeatedly. It felt like it had swollen to the size of a baby carrot. I’m sure the stallion was quite grotesque in reality but in my fantasy he looked like Bosco and he was pounding my sex with his delightfully thick penis as I lay on my back. I have no experience in these things but missionary is the position that gets me the hottest since the stallion is the one doing all the moving and sweating while the mare gets to lie down and enjoy it. There ought to be more things like that. The moans from next door were growing louder – and so were mine. I bit my lip to keep myself silent.

Then, as luck would have it, there was a knock at my door. I quickly cast a fast dry spell (one never knows when a drink may find itself spilled all over one’s evening gown) and dried my nether regions along with my hoof. Ending a masturbation session prematurely is just The. Worst. Possible. Thing. I opened the door and there was Cherry Jubilee, wearing feathers in her hair and a dress so beautiful and extravagant that for a moment, I thought it might have been one of my own creations! The detailed patterns on the corset, the exposed shoulders, the satin foreleg stockings... and that beautiful silver necklace! She was dressed to attend a ball.

Or maybe two balls.

Heeheeheeheeheehee!

“My word!” I said. “Miss Jubilee, permit me to say how absolutely stunning you look in Victorian era fashion.”

“I thought ya might appreciate it, Miss Rarity,” she said as she entered my room – alone. Nopony else was behind her. I checked. Bosco was outside, standing watch in the hallway.

“Is there a problem with the mare you selected for me?” I asked.

“Ah should hope not,” she said with a wink, closing and locking the door. “You’re lookin' at her.”

I was nonplussed.

“You’re giving me my hornjob?” I asked.

“I didn’t think ya’d mind since, as ya said, one mare is as good as the next,” she replied. “I do hope ya don’t mind.

“Oh, n-no, I don’t mind. That is, I don’t think I do. I suppose I’m just surprised that you’d consider doing it at all. I assumed that as the head honcho around here, you’d sooner have an employee deal with customer relations than see to them yourself.”

“Oh, ah was a workin’ mare myself once upon a time. Made a decent living at it, too. Ah started from the bottom and worked mah way to the top. All of mah girls really are good at heart... but sometimes they can be a bit... overzealous when a customer o’ note such as yerself comes through our doors. If ah let one o’ them take care o’ ya, they’d try to talk ya into making them a beautiful dress or somethin’... and ah wouldn’t want yer first visit here ta be awkward.”

“Well, nothing about this day has been awkward so far. Wait, are you saying that your girls recognized me, too?”

“No, ah told them who ya were.”

I couldn’t believe it.

“Miss Jubilee, I thought you believed in practicing discretion here!”

“Relax, Miss Rarity. They won’t tell anypony. We’ve all got secrets here and we‘ll respect yours.”

She was a professional so I took her at her word.

Cherry Jubilee used a hairbrush to draw my mane back so as to expose my horn. I felt it was rude for me to close my eyes so soon so I averted them instead.

“Ya really are very beautiful, Miss Rarity,” she said. “Ah can’t say that ah mind ya patronizin’ mah business but it sure is a shame that the stallions of Ponyville are so blind that ya had to come here lookin’ fer some satisfaction in the first place.” She was right. If I had a husband, I’d be receiving hornjobs from him seven nights a week, twice on Tuesdays. Pooey. “Are ya ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I sighed. I climbed on the bed, lay on my stomach and lowered my head to an angle where my horn was level with the ground. “May we dim the lights a bit first, please?”

She did as I asked and my heart began to beat faster. I closed my eyes as I nervously awaited the touch of another mare’s mouth on my horn. But if all went well, I would be too in awe of everything around me to care all that much. (I shall stop writing out dialogue for now. Putting in all those quotation marks and writing Cherry’s dialogue in hillbilly has worn out my quill points.) I felt something snug slide over the tip of my horn that was too dry to be a tongue. I opened my eyes and saw a small torn square-shaped piece of colored foil on the bedsheet. It had some words on it: Derpex – blueberry muffin flavor. Cherry was putting a condom over my horn. Fearing that she had plans on putting my horn inside something other than her mouth, I backed away from her and asked why she needed a condom for a noncoital sex act. She said it was a standard sanitary practice and that all her customers were required to wear protection for everypony’s safety. I returned to my spot on the bed and allowed her to finish putting it on. Once it was in place, my hornjob began in earnest. It was... quite pleasurable – even erotic once I started fantasizing about some handsome stallions. Trenderhoof. Cheese Sandwich. Carrot Cake.

Yes, Diary. I said Carrot Cake.

I like my stallions tall. I hardly consider that a crime.

Cheesy wanted me to thank Rarity for putting him down as a Rarity Approved hunk. He said he wasn’t the kind to tie the knot before but now that mares everywhere have been trying to chase him down, he’s even likelier to remain a bachelor.

Likelier. Hee hee! My favorite one-word tongue twister! I can never say it ten times fast.

But the real crime was that my goddess senses weren’t returning to me. I theorized that the condom must have been responsible for interfering with the effect. Pinkie had nothing between her tongue and my horn except for some frosting. I stopped her and asked if she could possibly perform the hornjob sans the condom. She said that it was indeed possible but it would cost extra. When I asked how much extra it would cost, she quoted me a price of fifteen thousand bits. The breakdown was ten for the hornjob (which would no longer be a freebie) and five for performing it on an au naturale horn. Have you ever heard anything so outrageous?

And just how large of a cut do her workers get, I wonder? Even at a 75/25 split, my condomless hornjob alone would put well over thirty five hundred bits in a mare’s purse. And that’s not even a full day’s work. It’s become a little easier for me to see how some mares could fall into this industry.

Naturally, I have that kind of money. I just didn’t bring that much along with me. I didn’t want to insult her by complaining about the price so I asked if she would continue with the condom on. She did. Perhaps when I unicame, I would experience a delayed reaction and my goddess senses would return.

She continued with the hornjob and I continued pretending that I was being sucked off by a studly stallion. Within ten minutes, I unicame. My first “gasm” of any kind with another pony – and my partner was a mare prostitute. :( Thankfully, I kept the moaning to a minimum. It was mostly a lot of heavy breathing. I didn’t want any perverts listening to my moans the way I had listened to the couple next door.

I will say this for Miss Jubilee: for an earth pony, she definitely knows her way around a unicorn’s horn.

Cherry asked me to lower my horn so she could remove the condom without its contents spilling out onto my coat or mane. I looked up after it came off and I could see a faint baby blue glow coming from within. It was my magism that had collected in the reservoir tip. I asked if I could see the condom before she threw it away. She brought it to me and as I levitated it before my face, I poked at the squidgy liquid with my hoof, finding it fascinating that something like this should come out of a mare’s horn. I quickly lost interest and gave it back to her. She walked to a trash can, disposed of the condom and returned to the bed where she lay beside me, our bodies almost, but not quite, touching. I felt confused and somewhat satisfied but I didn’t get what I really wanted. I lowered my head and sighed.

Cherry called my name. I lifted my head and turned to look at her. She held my chin in her hoof and angled my head downward. She asked that I not move my head. She leaned over and placed her mouth over my horn. She took it all the way down to the base, tightened her lips over it and then drew her head back slowly. My horn was still sensitive and the stimulation caused my body to jolt. It was a lovely feeling but, once again, no goddess senses and it was from a mare. When she completed her single suck, she smiled and told me that she did that to me as a free preview of what to expect when I wanted that condomless hornjob. I smiled but said nothing. With that one act, she cost herself fifteen thousand bits because now that I knew that the condom didn’t make a (ha) lick of difference, I would never return to the Cherry Hill Ranch.

I wonder if Bosco does freelance security.

Dear Diary,

I am writing to you from my room. It was a long trip. I just drank some hard cider (and I don’t care that it’s already morning) and took a masturbath. Now I just want to jot down a few thoughts before heading off to bed.

Um, Rainbow Dash, what’s a masturbath?

Clopping while in the bathtub.

Oh. Okay, thanks.

Tomorrow morning I am going to force myself to open the boutique and go about my daily routine as normal.

With or without water in the tub?

With would be my guess. It’d be pretty weird to clop in an empty tub.

Oh. Okay, thanks.

I am going to do my best to forget that everything after the sleepover ever happened.

With warm water or hot water?

Fluttershy. Relevant comments. Please.

Sorry, Twilight.

I have nothing against filly-foolers but I feel like less of a mare (and less of a unicorn) for doing what I did. I chased a rainbow and wound up with fool’s gold. Granted, this wasn’t the complete disaster that it could have been. I have learned my lesson without suffering too devastating a blow.

I am so lonely, Diary.

So very, very lonely.

I told my friends I’d be gone and they let me go without protest. I should be grateful for their friendship but I can’t forget that I don’t have a stallion in my life to say “Please don’t go, Rarity.” or “Let me come with you, Rarity.”

Celestia, I’m just going to come out and say it: I want a husband! And foals! I want six foals. Maybe more. I want to be the Ponyville record holder for the mare who gave birth to the most foals. I want to know what it is to be huge with my babies growing inside me. I’ve been making dresses from fabric and gemstones since I was a filly. Just once, I’d like to know what it’s like to create something from my womb with my husband’s unconditional love for me as my only other raw material.

It must be so beautiful.

I’m sorry, girls, but I need to go find Rarity. I think she needs a hug right now.

I’m such a crybaby. I need tissues.

That’s better. Now you know why I admire Carrot Cake. His devotion to his wife and his children make him positively radiant.

I am not a wife. Nor am I a mother. I didn’t think that anything was more amazing than wedded bliss and childbirth.

Until I felt the goddess senses. And now that is out of my reach as well.

The time has come for me to pick myself up, dust myself off and get used to the idea of not having that which I want most. The first benchmark of maturity is the ability to accept that one cannot always have what they want. I’m giving up on the goddess senses. They gave up on me so I should do the same. I just wish I had some cheat sheet that showed me the answers to the questions I still have.

What did Pinkie Pie’s mouth have that Cherry Jubilee’s mouth lacked?

Cavities.

The inability to close.

Cheese Sandwich’s genetic material.

Hey!

Have I somehow fallen out of favor with the entity or entities who granted me my glimpse of the goddess senses? Was it because I needed frosting put on my horn first? No, that’s silly. There must be hundreds of differences between Pinkie Pie and Cherry Jubilee but what is the most significant one?

I haven’t the foggiest.

Good night, Diary. If you think of anything, be a dear and let me know, won’t you?

(Author’s edit: I was in bed for no more than ten minutes before I picked up my diary and wrote this next entry.)

Of course.

OF COURSE!!!!

The Elements of Harmony!

Cherry Jubilee was never connected to The Elements of Harmony!

But Pinkie Pie was!

That must be the answer! Oh, it just has to be!

If my theory is correct, it means that, ruling out my own for obvious reasons, I have five mouths total from which I may experience what lies beyond the goddess senses! Thank goodness!

Oh, Diary. I now have the unenviable task of convincing one of my best friends to give me a hornjob. But which one should I choose? And how on earth will I get any of them to agree to such a lewd proposal?

It will take some doing but I’ll manage. I’ve always managed. Success is in my blood. I’m back in the game. I’m so giddy! Five chances to get back what rightfully belongs to me.

My friends, I love you... but take notice: I am Rarity and I WILL NOT BE DENIED.

Ah, Harmon-E megalomania. I knew it well. If you think Rarity was big on herself, my first time readers, wait until you read my chapters. Worst. Princess. Ever.

(Author’s edit: Fluttershy found me on the day she left her commentary session with the other girls and she gave me a great big hug. Her hugs are always medicine for my soul, just as I hope that mine are for hers.)