Desk Job

It was late on a Friday night. Cheerilee was sat in the empty locker room, wishing she wasn't. She wished she was in bed, or drunk, or both. Anywhere but here, in Ponyville's lone gym, in a closed-off locker room undergoing renovation.

Her nails dug into her palms as the door creaked open.

"Cheerilee!" Filthy Rich swaggered in, his easy smile suggesting he was greeting an old friend rather than a blackmail victim. "I'm glad you could make it. Your dedication to the welfare of your students never ceases to warm my heart."

"Thank you, sir," she replied, tonelessly.

Filthy ran a hand through his mane, hanging loosely over the sides of his head. He wore his gym clothes and had obviously just finished a workout. His face and arms dripped with sweat, huge dark patches radiated out from the armpits of his t-shirt, and there was a sheen of moisture to his whole body. He placed a hand on Cheerilee's cheek, and she did her best not to flinch. The milky, musky smell of his fresh sweat filled her nostrils.

He undressed, first kicking off his trainers before removing his top and his shorts. His Y-front briefs, translucent with sweat, peeled away as he pulled them down. Holding them up, he grinned at Cheerilee.

"Open wide."

She cringed as the damp underwear was forced into her mouth, effectively gagging her. The taste was as bad as the smell.

The door creaked open a second time.

"Pigpen! Glad you could make it."

The disgusting stallion walked in, dressed in a blue janitor's jumpsuit.

"Yo, Mister Rich! What's on the cards tonight?"

He took out his cock and walked up to Cheerilee. At their orders, she held their cocks, sitting down and stroking off the two stallions standing by her as she sucked the sweat from Filthy Rich's Y-fronts. It was not a pleasant job. Filthy's cock was clammy with sweat and leaking precum. Pigpen's member was... sticky.

"I have an idea," said Filthy, "something I have wanted to test out for some time. Are you familiar with the term paizuri?"

"Pie-whatnow?"

"A Neighpon term, the closest translation would be 'titjob.'"

Cheerilee wrinkled her nose in disgust as a drop of precum dribbled off Filthy's cock and onto her wrist.

"Oh, that." Pigpen shrugged. "Yeah, I've had it. I mean, it was hot because she was crying the whole time, but..."

"It sounds better than it feels, no?"

"Yeah, not enough friction." He clipped the side of Cheerilee's head lightly. "Speaking of, pick up the pace, bitch."

Grumbling, she stroked faster, both arms already aching from the unfamiliar motion.

"Well, I think I have a way to solve those problems," said Filthy, pawing at Cheerilee's tits. "And if it doesn't work, we can always ream out her ass for a few hours instead."

"Sure. Let's see what you've got."

Filthy reached under the bench, pulled out a bag of supplies, and began to carry out his designs on Cheerilee. First, he clipped a black collar around her neck, and a black cuff around each wrist. The wrist cuffs were then clipped to the back of the collar by the metal D-rings on both, forcing her to keep her hands together above the shoulders, and then he took a thin wooden pole and threaded it between her elbows and the back of her neck, forcing her elbows out, stopping her from lowering her arms, and preventing her from covering her tits or chest in any way. Cheerilee grunted at the rough handling, but was otherwise unfazed.

Next, he took out a length of thin twine, and with surprising dexterity made a loop at each end. He placed one loop over Cheerilee's left nipple, and tightened it until it was snug around the flesh.

Then he tightened it twice as much.

Cheerilee yelped into her fetid gag, glaring daggers at Filthy and trying to shift away. Several hard slaps to her tits and face convinced her to stay put. She fumed and fidgeted, obviously pained by the horrible twine, and her mood did not improve when he did the exact same thing to her right nipple. She stomped her feet and shook her head, earning more slaps and two of Pigpen's dirty fingers prodding her cunt until she settled down.

Then, with another series of manipulations, Filthy tied a knot in the middle of the twine with a loop poking through. He pulled the loop, and the twine shortened, pulling her nipples closer together. After a second, her eyes flew open. When the slack was gone, she protested weakly through the gag. When her nipples touched, Pigpen clamped a hand over her mouth to shush her screams. Filthy made a final knot and snipped the excess away, her breasts practically joined at the nipples. Her chest rose and fell rapidly from the pain and anxiety.

Pigpen grinned. "Nice. Ready for a test drive?"

"Not yet, there's still a lot of give. Let's try..." He rooted around in his bag until he found what he was looking for. "Ah-ha! Saran wrap..."

He measured the tube of cling wrap against Cheerilee's breasts, and cut the tube down until it was just tall enough to cover from the bottom of one squashed tit to the top. He then stretched a length of it across her breasts and kept rolling, round her side, all the way around her back. The saran wrap now formed a tiny transparent tube top. He then wrapped it around another ten times, strengthening and tightening it.

Cheerilee was distinctly uncomfortable. The saran wrap pressed down on her tits and ribcage, hurting the flesh and restricting her breathing, and it only made the pain in her strung-up nipples more intense.

"Almost there..."

Without warning, Filthy punched her in the gut. She doubled over, wheezing, and before she could recover and inhale, he wrapped her several more times. Cheerilee tried to breathe in, but it was a struggle - the tightness of the wrap wouldn't let her chest expand enough to take a full breath. He gave her a dozen more wraps just to be thorough, then cut the roll away.

He removed the shoulder-pole, unclipped her wrists from her neck, and clipped the wrist-cuffs together behind her back. After a moment watching her struggle and panic, he pulled his Y-fronts from her mouth, now slick with saliva. She gasped at him.

"Please I-" her eyes rolled up as she struggled to inhale, "can'tbreathe!"

"You can beg, you can breathe," he said, tersely. He flicked her nipple, a dark-purple blob barely visible under the layers of plastic. She whimpered but didn't dare lose enough air to scream. He prodded the sides of her breasts, now hard and compact from the pressure. A muffin-top of swollen flesh puffed out of the top and the bottom of the saran-wrap corset, pliable to the touch, but too dense to jiggle. He sucked his index finger into his mouth, wetted it with spit, and then stuck it directly down her cleavage.

He gave a low whistle. "Tight as a drum. Pigpen, would you like to sample these delights?"

"Oh, nah, nah. You built it, Mister Rich, you get first dibs."

Filthy grinned and grabbed Cheerilee, pushing her over one of the locker-room benches so that she lay on her back with her head dangling over the edge. She gasped like a fish as she was manhandled, her cheeks a darker shade of purple than usual. He stood over her head, lined up his hard cock with her swollen cleavage, and spat where the two met. He rubbed the spit up and down the dark line, and then thrust forward.

"Good heavens!" His eyes were closed as he grinned lasciviously, "This is as tight as any cunt..."

The crushing pressure of the saran wrap forced her tits together, creating a tight tunnel where her cleavage would be. Between the spit and the considerable amount of sweat that her plastic-wrapped tits were leaving, it was just slick enough to thrust in and out of without tearing anything. He pushed all the way in, his sweaty balls resting on her collarbone, enjoying the caresses on his cock as her tits were crushed onto it for his pleasure. After a few testing thrusts he poured some lube on his shaft, and started fucking her tits at a steady pace.

"How is she, down there?" he asked Pigpen, "She hasn't passed out yet, has she?"

She was whimpering but still breathing, her teeth gritted as she used all her strength to suck in breath, hold it, exhale, and suck back in. It took all her focus not to drown.

"Nah, bitch is fine. Hell, she's slacking. Want me to do something about it?"

"What do you have in mind?" asked Filthy, grabbing her by the hips as he thrust downwards towards her belly.

Pigpen didn't reply. He grabbed Cheerilee by her hair and smushed her face into Filthy Rich's sweaty ass-crack. She couldn't even cry out at the sensation, the crushing pressure on her lungs too intense for such an action, and could only gasp and gulp. With one clean stroke Filthy thrust forward, rubbing his taint and asshole down from her forehead to her chin, and then back up. He shuddered at the stimulating sensation.

Cheerilee's head spun, choked by the pressure and smothered by Filthy's rump, her mouth and nose filling with the fetid stink of ass-sweat as she struggled for breath. Her head felt as if it were splitting in three directions. The friction of Filthy's crack rubbing up and down her face alone was painful, made worse a dozen times over by the bondage and humiliation.

"This better, Mister Rich?"

Filthy grabbed her hips and thrust extra-hard. "You - have - no - idea!" he said, every word punctuated with a thrust.

Pigpen pulled her head free. "How about you, slut? How you feelin'?"

Her lips were turning blue. "-breathe-"

He shoved her back in. "You wanna breathe? Breathe his ass..."

Filthy lined up his thrusts, shortening them so that Cheerilee's nose was pressed directly onto his asshole. He made up for the smaller thrusts by holding onto her bound tits instead, crushing them further inward around his dick. He bit his lip and curled his toes, his orgasm fast approaching.

Cheerilee realized she could die here.

She could die here, in a run-down locker room, smothered to death in a freak sex accident. She would die with her nose pressed into a stallion's unwashed ass, wrapped up like a cheap parcel, a dick between her tits. She'd die, and they wouldn't even realize until he'd finished with her. They'd say it was a mistake, that she consented to everything. They'd never see jail.

Maybe no-one would find her at all.

She woke up.

A drop of liquid fell on her chin. She looked up, and a second drop fell into her mouth. Two last drips of cum, directly from Filthy's shaft.

She could still barely breathe. They hadn't untied her and the pressure of the tit bondage was still immense, but at least she didn't have to bear his weight any more. She could feel a horribly sticky and slick patch all over her tits and down her stomach where Filthy had blown his load.

Stars swum through her vision and the edges of the world turned black as Pigpen grabbed her by the mane and lifted her up. He dragged her off the bench, forced her against a wall and pushed her to her knees.

"Thanks for getting her all slick for me, Mister Rich," he chuckled, as he dipped his hips down and pushed his cock against the bottom of her cleavage. He grunted with lust as her squished purple tits clamped down around him, and after a few testing thrusts, the tip peeked out of the top of her breasts, nudging her collarbone and drooling precum.

Pigpen slapped her face. She barely reacted. Her eyes were red and unfocused, the veins on her face bulged with strain, and her ears were plastered back on her skull in a constant state of stress and fear. She continued to gasp and sputter, barely able to take more than a fifth of a breath at a time, as Pigpen thrust forward to fuck her bound tits at a faster rate. Despite the lubrication, this assault hurt more than the last, yanking her tits upwards, crushing her nipples, her breasts turning bruised-black under the saran wrap.

"Look up at me you tight-titted cunt."

His voice was a dull echo from the next room over. His grey coat was blurred and indistinct.

"This is where you belong, slut, on your knees, serving my cock, suffering like a bitch just to make me cum harder..."

The next three slaps made her ears ring, and she felt the glob of spit that splatted onto her cheek before she heard it.

"Yeah, get it!"

He forced her head down so her chin touched her collarbone, his cock staring her in the face, and began to cum. The first scummy spurt sealed her lips shut, the second graced her cheek, and the third went up her nose. Two more covered her eyes, and the last half-dozen spurts covered the rest of her face in a criss-cross of off-white slime.

She couldn't see, couldn't breathe. Sounds were a faraway thing.

"-before she-"

-gulped in air as it flowed straight into her lungs, thrashing and gulping, legs kicking involuntarily. She could breathe. She was alive. The pain in her breasts and the fishy reek of Pigpen's cum flooded her senses.

Filthy Rich stood over her, holding the remains of the saran-wrap corset that he'd cut away with safety shears. He let out a low whistle as he looked at the abused mare.

"Wow."

"What a fuck, right?" Pigpen idly stroked his half-hard shaft. "I got like, eight different mares I gotta do that to."

"A little less tight next time, perhaps. I'd have liked it if she'd had the stamina to eat out my ass while I fucked her tits."

"Yeah. I still gotta get a rimjob from this bitch. Hey, speaking of..." He squeezed his dick until a bead of jizz pooled at the top, wiped it off with a finger, and shoved it into Cheerilee's mouth. "Eat up, skank."

She retched at the vile taste, but did nothing else to resist. Her legs shook, her wrists were still tied behind her back, and she sat in a crumpled heap. Two red lines of pain stood out at the top and bottom of where the plastic wrap bondage had been. Ugly, splotchy bruises covered her tits from the bondage and the stallions' hands, and though the string connecting her tied nipples had been cut, the ties themselves remained making her nipples stand out like bright purple pebbles. Her makeup had run from crying, and then been smeared up and down her face by Filthy's sweaty ass. Her eyes were utterly unfocused.

The cum was striking. A spray of thick, syrupy, milk-white sperm flowed down her stomach and breasts down to her crotch, each strand distinct, clinging to her coat, unbothered by time and gravity. Above that, a claggy, goopy paste of thin yellow spunk had apparently been smeared over her face and neck, soaking into the fur, clinging at her nostrils and dripping off her eyelashes. Every few seconds she noticed the smell and retched, but could not move her hands to wipe the foulness away.

"She's a mess," said Pigpen.

"That, she is. Should we drag her to the showers and hose her off?"

Pigpen grinned, holding his wilted cock. "Nah. We can hose her off right here."

Taking his meaning, Filthy likewise held his cock and aimed it at the poor mare.

Two yellow jets of piss sprayed out, splattering over Cheerilee's face. She spluttered and squirmed, unintentionally swallowing some in her desperation to breathe, but did not resist otherwise. The stallions aimed all over, soaking her thick, curly mane, washing the cum off her face and tits, flowing down her belly, taking special attention to aim at her nose, eyes and mouth. She was soon a shade darker, utterly drenched in urine.

As she sucked the last drops of piss from their cocks, she knew she would never be clean again.

"You know what?" said Pigpen, donning his clothes, "That's gonna keep me hard 'till the next time we use her..."