Author's Note

Special Note: This chapter is based on Equestria Girls: Applejack's Secret by Phantom Shadow. I strongly recommend reading that story if you haven't.

This chapter contains uncomfortable situations, coercion, and prostitution.

The Dark Side of Candy Apples

In the next town over from Canterlot, there's a club called The Dark Side. As strip clubs go, it's perhaps not as seedy as most, though it certainly earned its notoriety with its blue and white neon lights, catwalk, stripper poles, hazy atmosphere, and clientele of drunken men of all ages. By far the shadiest thing about The Dark Side, some might say, is the owner's no-questions, no-principles hiring policy for dancers. By no means are the dancers at The Dark Side treated unfairly, and the manager genuinely cares about the well-being of his dancers, but the word "predatory" would not be inaccurate in describing the hiring of many of the girls who passed through the back doors of The Dark Side and left their innocence on its neon catwalk.

Every so often, a girl from Canterlot, in need of money for one reason or another and short on prospects, would find herself making the long drive over to the next town, to that seamy little strip club, praying nobody back home ever found out.

What the girls who made the trip from Canterlot to dance at The Dark Side never took into account was the possibility that men from Canterlot would also make the long driver over to the next town, so they could relax and enjoy a night at the strip club without worrying about being recognized in the crowd. Doctors, city politicians, community leaders, men with reputations to protect...

Even teachers.

* * * * *

"Please welcome...CANDY APPLES!"

Applejack sauntered onto the stage, wearing a candy apple red pleather skirt that barely went past her crotch, a sheer red and white sleeveless silk spaghetti-strap tank top over a bright red strapless bra, and spike-heeled red mid-calf boots. Her hair was restyled into a silky plait, and glittery powder dusted her shoulders and upper arms. Her trademark Stetson rested atop her head; more than once, she had considered the idea of leaving it in the dressing room and not wearing it out on stage, but she always seemed to end up wearing it no matter what. She plastered the most seductive yet coy smile on her face she could manage as she gyrated the way she'd been taught by the more seasoned dancers, swinging her hips wide and letting her ass hang off the edge of the stage, tantalizingly close to the nearest tables.

The honest, strong, hardworking farm girl Applejack would never do anything like this, and would die of humiliation if anybody she knew saw her bouncing her barely-covered butt over the heads of half-drunk, horny men.

In order to make it through each weekend of 'work', she had to leave Applejack behind in the dressing room. The girl on stage was Candy Apples, and Candy Apples put everything she had into her lascivious performance.

Candy Apples squatted low, using her powerful thigh muscles to undulate her body in time to the beat of the music. Her smoldering green eyes passing over the audience without really seeing them as she slid her hands underneath her tank top, running them up and down her muscular midriff. Strutting to the end of the catwalk, she leaned low and forward, letting her cleavage spill enticingly out for the men to see, before leaning back and slowly, teasingly pulling the tank top off over her head and dropping it to the stage. She bent low and swayed her body back and forth; her bra pushed her modest, pert breasts up and forward, and they jiggled enticingly with each swing of her torso.

Candy Apples slowly raised one leg straight up, pointing her toes at the ceiling, giving the men nearest the stage a superb view of the red G-string that just barely covered her sex. She held the pose for a long moment before slowly bringing her leg back down, then unfastening her skirt and letting it fall gently to the stage. She kicked it somewhere behind her, then ran her hands down her hips sensually before thrashing around wildly, her thighs, ass, and breasts jiggling and shaking as she danced from one end of the catwalk to the other. She wrapped herself around one of the poles and half-climbed, half-humped it, giving it a sultry lick and tossing her head back, closing her eyes in pretend ecstasy. After several long seconds, she let go of the pole and sauntered back to center stage, where she turned slowly in place as she reached up to the loose knot holding her bra together and undid it. Catching the silk cups before they could fall, she swayed slowly in place, letting the suspense build before pulling it away and baring her pert breasts and stiff nipples. As the men whooped and hollered, she thrust her pelvis, making her tits bounce and bobble for her fans. After a minute of this, she strutted down to the end of the catwalk and squatted low, bouncing her ass just inches above the stage. Money rained onto the stage around her feet; she stepped off the stage onto the closest table and shook her ass in the faces of the men there. Rough hands shoved money into her G-string. Flashing them a smile and a wink, she moved on to the next table, where more money was waving in the air. She started to go into her usual squat when a face at the table tripped an alarm in her head.

In an instant, Candy Apples was Applejack again, and Applejack was petrified.

Less than six inches from her barely-covered crotch sat Quibble Pants, her third period Literature teacher. A sheen of sweat covered his burnt-amber face, and his grey-streaked dark hair was mussed. Their eyes locked, and Quibble Pants swallowed heavily. He fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a pad of sticky notes and a pen, then scribbled something on the topmost note. His eyes meeting hers again, he tore it off and stuck it to a hundred dollar bill, which he then fumbled into her G-string.

Catcalls from the crowd reminded her of where she was, and Applejack was Candy Apples again. Candy Apples climbed back up onto the stage and went into her finale prematurely, then collected her clothes and some of the loose money and retreated to the dressing room.

Numbly, distractedly, she collected all the money from her G-string, counting it without really paying attention. She reached the sticky note attached to a hundred dollar bill (a HUNDRED!! her mind shouted in disbelief) and read it apprehensively.

Meet me in the VIP room.

"Whoa nelly," Applejack muttered. Trembling, she got dressed—not in her street clothes, but in her dancing costume—and stalked down the hall and around to the side corridor where the private dancing rooms lurked. She'd only been in the VIP Room twice, and it always made her a little uncomfortable. Some of the more experienced girls talked of the extra things they'd offer for the right money, if they liked the cut of the client's jib, but in the three months to date she'd worked at The Dark Side, the only time Applejack had let things go too far was when she'd let a man play with her tits for an extra fifty. That had been the low point of her personal low point, but she ultimately decided it was something she could live with.

But now, one of her teachers—one of her teachers—knew she was a stripper, had had her near-naked body inches from his face. Shame and embarrassment burned through her.

*Well, it's been a good life...*

Taking a deep, shaky breath to steady herself, Applejack walked into the VIP room.

Quibble Pants sat on the large white leather couch at the back of the room, nursing a Scotch from the private bar. Applejack closed and locked the door, then walked over to him, her head bowed and her posture meek. "Umm...hi, Mr. QP," she said quietly.

"Applejack," Quibble Pants said. He set his Scotch down. "You know, you're probably the last girl I would've expected to run into in a place like this."

Applejack rubbed one arm. "Y-yeah," she said. "Ah...it's..." She sighed. "It's a long story, an' Ah...Ah jes'..."

Quibble Pants held up a hand. "Don't need to hear it," he said. "I'm guessing it's the usual story. Bad harvest, can't pay the bills, needed the money, all the trite little afterschool special stories girls your age have whenever they get caught working in a place like this." He shook his head.

Applejack grimaced. "Yeah," she said. She tried to meet his gaze, but couldn't. "Ah...Ah guess you're gonna turn me in, huh?"

Quibble Pants snorted. "Yeah, right. I'm gonna walk right up to Principal Celestia, my boss, and tell her one of her students is a stripper in a club in Trotsdale. 'And how do you know that?'" he said in a sarcastic mimicry of Celestia's voice. "Well, attractive, strong, positive role model female boss," he continued in his usual tone, "I was over there Saturday night shoving dollar bills in strippers' G-strings and got a nice faceful of Applejack's beautiful country ass!" He shook his head. "Yeah, that'd end well." He patted the seat next to him; Applejack furrowed her brow and frowned, but sat down. He filled a small glass partway with Scotch and handed it to her; Applejack wrinkled her nose at it, but took a swallow, nearly coughing as it burned its way down.

"The truth is at least you probably have a good reason to be here," Quibble Pants said. "Me, well..." He chuckled. "I just shoved a C-note in a high school girl's G-string."

Applejack blanched. "Yeah, umm...thanks, but...Ah don't feel right keepin'—"

"No, it's yours," Quibble Pants said. "I mean, I called you to the VIP room, I paid for an hour in here..."

Applejack blinked. "An hour? How in th' hell do you have that kind of money on a teacher's salary?"

Quibble Pants shrugged. "I'm set," he said. "Honestly, I don't even need to work. I just do it to kill time. I've only been married once..." He gave a wry snort. "That ended in divorce." He sighed. "The truth? I'm a lonely, bitter guy and I find too much fault with everyone and everything around me to have any real relationships. I don't even have any friends, really." He shook his head and poured himself another drink. "And then every day for eight hours a day I teach classes full of hot teenage girls that make me wish I was fifteen years younger, you know? Like you and your friends." He snorted. "So once or twice a month I come to the club to get my rocks off."

Applejack gulped the rest of her drink. "So you teach high school just to ogle high school girls?"

"No, I teach high school because it gives me something to do," Quibble Pants said. "The high school girls are a perk. Or an endless torment, depending on how you look at it." He set his glass down, then tipped his head back against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. "You know, I always had this fantasy of running into one of my students here. I'd picture Sunset Shimmer or Rainbow Dash up on that catwalk, doing what you were doing tonight..."

Applejack gritted her teeth.

"But you! Oh, man," Quibble Pants went on, looking at Applejack. "I don't know where you've been hiding all that raw sexual energy, but I've never been so turned on in my life!" He sucked in air between his teeth. "And...that brings us to why we're in the VIP room."

Applejack frowned. "Ah thought it was so we could talk about, y'know...me bein' a stripper."

Quibble Pants snorted. "Please. I may be well off, but I'm not gonna shell out that kind of money just to talk." He shifted around, turning to face her squarely. "I want you, Applejack. I want you so bad I can taste you. That ripe, juicy ass, those hot tits. Everything you were shaking in my face out there, I want...I want more of it. I want all of it."

Applejack blinked, stunned. "Say whut now?"

"Have you worked the VIP room before, Applejack?"

She grimaced. "Some," she admitted. "Ain't really done much back here. Let a guy feel me up one time, that's about it."

Quibble Pants glanced at his watch as he pulled a roll of bills out his pocket. "We've got forty-five minutes," he said. He tugged at the front of Applejack's tank top and tucked the roll of bills into her cleavage, then put his hand on her thigh, slowly stroking it. "Just count that up...tell me how far you're willing to go."

Applejack frowned at the intimate contact. Certainly, it was no worse than she'd been groped or touched before, and offering a little extra service for more money in the VIP room was part of the trade, but so far it was a part of the trade she'd been loathe to succumb to.

She may be a stripper, but she refused to become a whore.

Still, conflicting thoughts tumbled through her mind. This was her teacher, and he'd just outed himself as an amoral creep. He also had the power to do a variety of damage to her personal and social life if he so chose.

She had the power to get him fired if she so chose.

From the sound of things, it wouldn't even inconvenience him.

As she mulled all this over, she pulled the wad of bills out of her cleavage and counted it. Her eyes bugged out and her jaw dropped.

This...! This much would keep all the bills paid for two whole months!

Swallowing, Applejack put the money on the end of the couch, then handed Quibble her glass. "Pour me another," she said. "Then we'll see."

After a second Scotch, Applejack stood up, letting her Candy Apples persona take over. She took her hat off and put it on Quibble's head, then leaned low over him, giving him her most sultry smile. "So what do you want first?" she asked. "A lapdance?"

"Actually, I was hoping for something a little more...personal," Quibble said. "Like, you, naked, in my lap. Leave your boots on."

"Alright," Applejack said huskily, her voice barely catching. She took her time taking off her clothes, hesitating when she got to her G-string. Taking a deep, bracing breath, she shed it, baring her sex.

Quibble sucked in a hitching breath as he studied her body, then reached out and pulled her into his lap. Applejack could feel his cock pressing into her ass through his pants as she sat; she gasped and trembled as one hand kneaded her breast and played with her nipple while the other quested at her nether folds, teasing her slit. He trailed soft kisses along her neck and shoulders as he slipped a fingertip inside her, probing her entrance. Applejack groaned softly, her hips squirming and her right foot swinging in time with the rough flicks of his finger inside her. He brushed his thumb across her clit and she hissed sharply, her entire body seizing up.

"You like that?" Quibble asked.

"Mm-hmm," Applejack grunted.

Quibble spent a few minutes fondling and fingering Applejack, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as she moaned and groaned, writhing involuntarily under his ministrations. As her sex grew wet, he slid her over onto the couch, then stood up and fumbled with his belt and fly, dropping his pants and boxers around his ankles, baring his hard, hot dick to Applejack. "Now it's your turn," he said.

Applejack stared at his member, swallowing nervously. "S-so," she said huskily, "you just want me to, uhh..."

"I think you know what to do," Quibble said.

Nodding shakily, Applejack leaned forward, wrapping one strong, callused hand around his shaft and stroking it roughly. Quibble tensed up and hissed; Applejack eased up on the pressure. As a few trickles ran down her wrist from him, she leaned closer and licked the head, then slid her hand toward the base of his shaft and took him in her mouth. Quibble grunted and groaned as Applejack's lips, tongue, and fingers worked him over. He was already so close to release that it didn't take long at all for Applejack's clumsy but earnest blowjob to bring him to the edge. With a strained grunt, he came; Applejack pulled back as the first spurt filled her mouth and ended up taking the remainder on her face and upper chest. She slumped back, wiping at her mouth and grimacing at the mess on her fingers.

Quibble got down on the floor and knelt in front of Applejack, pulling her thighs apart and leaning between them. Grabbing her ass with both hands and kneading it, he buried his mouth in her pussy and lapped at the juices trickling out of her. Applejack moaned, arching her back and thrusting her sex into his face, digging her fingernails into the back of the couch.

Quibble squeezed and kneaded Applejack's firm round ass as his tongue thrust and curled and flicked all around her slit, lapping up her wetness and working her up for more. As he ate her out, his dick rose to mast again; he reached down and fumbled through the pockets of his pants until he found a condom, then rocked back on his heels and hastily put it on.

Applejack looked down at him, watching him hesitantly. "H-hey now," she said. "You're gonna..." She took a deep breath. "You wanna...plow mah field?"

He looked up at her. "I have never given a girl as much money as I just gave you," he said. "This, you, here...this is literally the one thing I've always wanted. Maybe it wasn't necessarily you I pictured here, but..." He took a deep breath. "This...it's the forbidden fruit. You're the forbidden fruit. And now that I've gotten a taste, I want the whole apple."

"W-well..." Applejack looked at the fat wad of money on the end of the couch, then down at Quibble, his cock standing proud and wrapped for action.

She thought about Apple Bloom's phone, with the crack that ran the length of the screen.

She thought about the alternator on her truck that could die at any time.

She thought about the acre and a half of trees they had to replant because of the blight.

Applejack thought about all these things as Quibble pulled her into his lap, hooking her legs over his shoulders. As his hands grabbed hold of her ass, then moved up to her hips to steady her. She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. "A-alright," she said. "Go ahead."

She braced herself, shuddering and suppressing a slight whimper as Quibble's cock entered her. She grunted, panting in short, heaving bursts, as he pumped into her over and over again. Her legs bounced on his shoulders; her breasts bobbed and swayed with every thrust. She ground her crotch into him, taking more of him in, until she could hear flesh slapping against flesh over her own breathing and his grunts.

A few minutes in, he stopped, then pulled her off, turning her over and around, pushing her up against the couch. He guided her legs until she was kneeling against the couch, her body bent over the seat and her ass high in the air. She felt his hands squeeze and grope her ass again as he shuffled around behind her. Then his cock was pounding into her again, from behind this time, and she rocked forward and backward with each thrust, grunting as her breasts were driven into the white leather beneath her. Again and again, his balls slapped against her as he hilted, making her wince and hiss and pant. "Oh god," he grunted. "Oh shit. Oh god, Applejack...fuck, you're so tight..."

Her pussy squeezed him harder, tighter, as her body reacted on its own. She felt fire dancing through nerves she didn't even know she had. Her body burned with new, lusty feelings even as her spirit cowered in shame at what she had allowed herself to become. She was vaguely aware that she was drooling on the couch, that her thighs were damp and sticky.

With a loud grunt, Quibble came, his orgasm rocking through Applejack's body like an earthquake. He pulled out and sagged back onto the floor, and Applejack slumped sideways, barely catching herself with the couch.

"That...was so amazing," Quibble breathed. "Applejack...you're the hottest fuck I've ever had."

Applejack looked back at him. "Ain't nobody here by that name, fella," she said. "Mah name's Candy Apples, an' Ah rightly appreciate your business." She forced herself to her legs, which wobbled dangerously underneath her, and scrambled around for wet wipes to clean herself up with. She hastily dressed, grabbing the roll of money, and fled the VIP room.

Once she was back in the dressing room, she allowed herself a full-body shudder, then hurriedly dressed in her regular clothes again and walked to the manager's office. She knocked on the open door and leaned in. "Hey," she said. "Somethin's come up. Ah'm not workin' tomorrow night. Ah'm headin' out now."

The manager nodded. "Alright." He gathered up a stack of bills, wrapped a rubber band around them, and handed it to her. "Here's your take for the night. Good job out there tonight," he added. "The customers really love you."

Applejack's gaze drifted in the direction of the VIP room. "Yeah, Ah reckon," she said before leaving The Dark Side, and Candy Apples, behind her for another weekend.

She'd be back, of course. Candy Apples would shake her ass and bare her tits and grind her pussy against the pole while they all cheered and hollered and stuffed money in her underwear.

But one round of selling her body in the VIP room was more than enough.