Golden Flowers
Mister Coffee
Lying on the floor looking up was not an unfamiliar position for Golden Flowers. Truth be told, it was a fairly typical day at work for her.
Her assumption of The Position was nearly automatic, bred of familiarity and of necessity. A means to an end, and she was willing to comply for the right amount of bits.
Every time, as she rolled on her back and slid across the floor, she wondered how it had come to this, what she was doing with her life, and that thought was quickly pushed away by a familiar warm feeling in her loins. It might be undignified, it might be unconventional, but the fact was she’d grown to like it. Judging by her bank account balance and client list, lots of other ponies also liked it.
She slid into position and gave a light tap on Roxie’s hoof, letting the mare straddling her know she was ready. Just in case she wasn’t looking down. Some of Golden Flowers’ clients liked talking; Roxie wasn’t one of those.
Looking up was a strange perspective, and yet she could imagine that those were her teats, that was her vulva. With stallions, she always felt disconnected as she stared down the barrel of their cock. With mares it was easy to imagine she was watching herself, the tail lift, the parting of nether lips, the trickle of arousal, and then the moment of truth.
Especially since she wasn’t entirely certain exactly what everything looked like under her tail. Using a mirror gave her a glimpse, but getting it in just the right position and then trying to work out which was the left side and which was the right always eluded her.
It always started out as a quick spurt, a feeling of relief that transcended everything else. Aimed ‘away,’ rather than any particular direction.
Whenever she squatted over a toilet, images of her clients played in her mind. A consequence or a benefit, that was for the jury to decide. The spread of the lips to reveal that which lay hidden beneath, and at last, the golden treasure.
A brief trickle, then a steady stream. Almost on target; Golden Flowers only had to tilt her head slightly. The piss crossed her muzzle and then into her open mouth.
Different ponies liked being in different positions. Most of the ones who liked to be on top and pee on her did it for dominance, while her clients who wanted to be pissed on wanted subjugation. There were a few who liked it either way, and she wasn’t sure what to make of them. Still, bits were bits and they all spent the same regardless of how Golden Flowers had earned them.
•••••
Getting peed on hadn’t been her intention in life. She’d originally gone a more traditional route, gardening during the day and selling intimate personal services at night.
It wasn’t until some noble stallion asked her if he could piss on her that she started turning the idea over in her mind. She turned him down at first, and he doubled his offer.
She turned him down a second time and he tripled his previous offer.
She told him she’d think about it—it was a very generous offer, and even if it was weird, he was willing to play a lot of money.
Then he sweetened the pot by offering her some noble lands and a title to boot, and really, how different was it than letting him fuck her?
There was more of it, but it washed off easier than cum, and after the second session, she decided she didn’t mind the taste.
After getting her nobility, she let him return for free whenever he wanted to. That was only fair; the land would be hers until she passed it on.
She even dressed up all fancy one time she was in Manehattan and sat in the back of a meeting of the Nobles’ Council. Most of the actual deliberations were boring, but being introduced when she walked in as Lady Flowers of Newnham Paddox was fun, and the little hors-d-ourves and petit-fours they had to snack on were wonderful. Not to mention there was dancing afterwards with a proper orchestra and at the end of the night, she managed to bed a duke. That was just for her own pleasure.
•••••
Something was wrong with Roxie—Golden Flowers wasn’t exactly a piss sommelier, but she knew how her clients normally smelled and tasted, and this was different. Urine was usually salty and slightly grassy. Occasionally there were overtones of other flavors and sometimes it wasn’t very salty if her client had been drinking a bunch of tea or water to get urine production up. But this time it tasted sweet. What did that mean?
She’d asked before, casually, about their afternoon meal or if they’d spent extra time at a tea-house, and then as she’d gained experience she’d gotten a knack for identifying the smells and tastes and would mention it to some of her clients who were interested in conversation, who were interested in her attentiveness. Plus, she’d experimented on her own—careful aiming took skill and she practiced by peeing in jars and it wasn’t that weird to at least taste it.
Golden Flowers could also prop up her hindquarters and make a fountain and get most of it in her mouth if she wanted, something she hadn’t even considered attempting until a stallion offered her fifty bits if she could do it while he watched.
It took her a week of practice.
Her piss had never tasted sweet.
She was still mulling over it as the flow petered off. A few golden droplets lingered on the clit and labia, and she leaned her head up to lick them off, once again tasting that strange sweetness, tempered by the coppery taste of cunt.
A half-remembered fact from her health class finally percolated through her mind and she jerked in surprise. “Roxie, you ought to see a doctor. It tastes like you have diabetes.”
