The evening had been incredibly easy.

Too easy.

Diamond Tiara was actually a gem of a foal. The three-year-old was cute as a button and happy to play with her blocks quietly, never crying or raising a fuss. She’d eaten her dinner without the least complaint, a ‘meager spread’ according to her mother… but the gourmet-chef prepared meal looked better than some of the dinners that Trixie had seen plated at town galas.

And then she’d happily trotted off to bed, content to drift off with only a couple of chapters from a nearby storybook, while still clutching her stuffed animal. Trixie smiled fondly at the sleeping little foal as she shut the strangely heavy and soundproof door. The instructions to do so had been crystal clear.

The instruction had been just one part of a greater set of directions and tips from the Riches that they had left in a thick binder with clearly legible instructions.

Trixie had worked for some parents who were like this, worriers who tried to make a plan for every situation. The Rich’s binder had mostly a number of warnings and directions about what she could not do in the house and where she could not go. The basement and bedroom of the mansion seemed to be entirely forbidden.

But they weren’t the harshest of employers.

Surprisingly, they’d even left a whole shelf of food in the fridge that she was permitted to eat from, thought the instructions had said that she was absolutely not to share any of the food labeled for her with their daughter.

For the most part, Trixie wasn’t interested in the smorgasbord of drinks, snacks, and meals that seemed to have been prepared just for her…

...except the plate of scrumptious cookies on the kitchen counter, as well as the gourmet chocolate cake there. A small white label next to the plate displayed her name in an ornate calligraphic script.

They were just too tantalizing not to indulge in. She grabbed a plate and helped herself to a brace of cookies and a slice of cake, before retreating to the sitting room and kicking up her hooves on the luxury divan.

This really wasn’t so bad! The process to get here had been a pain, and the cold, vacuous mansion was a little bit creepy once she was all alone in it, but free food and the promise of lots of bits made this the ideal gig!

She took a bite of her cookie. The taste of gooey, semi-sweet chocolate chips melted in her muzzle, making her moan with inward delight. If the snacks were going to be this amazing she might need to add a fitness regime to her week or she’d quickly be packing on the pounds from working at the Rich’s mansion.

Not that she wasn’t in amazing shape already.

Towing around her magical cart on the weekends when she practiced her magic-routine had given her flanks that would make even that apple-bucking teenage filly jealous. One day she hoped to upgrade to a full-fledged wagon, and she doubted she would be able to afford one of those fancy magic-propelled wagons - she’d need to keep building up that leg strength.

The fact that it made the colts in school drool as she passed was just a happy side-effect.

She scarfed down the cookies in record time, before switching her attention to the cake. The frosting, the light, spongey cake-bread, it was heaven.

This was a cake worthy of Celestia herself!

Forkful after forkful quickly found her staring at an empty plate, and only the raw satisfaction she was basking in stopped her from automatically racing to the kitchen to reload with another slice.

“Oh, wow,” Trixie leaned her head back on the couch, shutting her eyes with pleasure. Her belly felt so full, so delighted, so… hot?

She sat up, rubbing her stomach. Something felt funny... like her belly was warming up... as if she’d swallowed a hand-warmer and it had activated inside her, a chemical reaction that was quickly mounting from a small heat into a raging fire.

Sweat began to break out on her brow. Her tongue felt heavy, languid. She blinked, eyes feeling a little unfocused. Her fur seemed to be standing on end, sticking straight up away from her skin in an attempt to cool down her rapidly heating body, which was already building up a light sheen of sweat.

“P-phew, were there some chili peppers in that frosting or something?” Trixie asked herself, as she sat up and started to fan her warm face with one of her forehooves. The leg felt strangely heavy and groggy as she waved it up and down in the air, like the signals being sent from her brain were traveling too slowly.

And then she felt it.

Her… bits.

The warmth seemed to be migrating from her belly downward, and an uncomfortable tension was winding up in her lower body, like a spring that had been twisted too many times, binding tighter and tighter until it began to kink and warp.

“H-ha… ha…” Trixie nervously chuckled to herself, each laugh releasing a hot blast of air from her throat. It was almost like her insides had been replaced with lava.

Her bits were starting to swell now. She was conscious of the heat causing blood to rush in pulsing throbs “down there”, a desperate attempt by her circulatory system to try to bring some cooling relief. A vain attempt, since her blood seemed to be just as boiling as whatever effect was acting on her.

She felt things begin to swell, engorge. Surfaces that usually didn’t touch were now uncomfortably grinding into one another, into her thighs, into that little button of sensation.

“Eeep…” Trixie let out a little squeak as a sudden shiver of pleasure jolted her, sensitive nerve endings coming into contact with the open air for the first time. “Wh-what’s wrong with me?” Trixie continued to fan herself, surprised at just how quickly this had come on. She hadn’t felt like… this… since her heat last spring.

And even then, she hadn’t felt this… tension...

Perhaps a taste of it, when she’d embarrassingly secluded herself in her locked room and succumbed to her desire to hoof off her burning need. She remembered the embarrassing squeaks the bed had made as it jumped on the floor, the little yelps she’d been unable to suppress, the way her hips had lifted up off her bedspread…

That moment just before she’d… satisfied herself. That was the current level of exasperation she was currently feeling.

And strangely, she didn’t find it that unpleasant.

Trixie shifted on the couch a little bit, inadvertently grinding her bottom into the cushion. Instantly her back arched straight and trembles raced up her spine. She could feel her tail lifting under her, her dock throbbing harder and harder, trying to lift away from her backside - to expose more of her sensitive nethers to the fabric of the expensive couch.

The fabric!

Trixie groaned and hopped to her hooves, wheeling to look at the spot she had just been lounging on. It was a spot alright.

A very wet, pungent spot.

Trixie felt her nostrils tickle and twist as they took in the smell. She recognized her own aroused aroma from her time the previous spring, a thick fog of pheromones that was rapidly filling the sitting room, now that her burning backside was no longer constrained against the very rare, very pricey, very wet cashmere couch.

Crap!

She sprinted to the kitchen where she’d left the binder, each step sending little electric shocks coursing up from her rear as different parts of herself moved against each other. Hay, even her… teats, undersized though they might be (compared to some of the huge ones the fillies on the cheerleading team had) felt sensitive, warm, eager for action.

She blinked and shook her head, chewing hard on her lip to try to dull the throbbing heat she was feeling, as she reached the binder and tore open the cover, flipping it quickly to the section about furniture.

...if any of the furniture is stained or damaged it will be docked from the babysitter’s pay. Below are some of the cleaning methods to be used for various spills and accidents…

Trixie looked down the list, hoping to see something about food spills that she could adapt to the embarrassing emission she had just left. She was surprised to see that her ‘unique’ scenario was actually listed.

...filly-cum. Masturbation is permitted, as long as it is not in view or hearing of our daughter. We suggest that the use of one of the cotton towels on furniture be considered prior to indulging. However, if this is not possible, a mixture of warm water and dish soap can…

Trixie quickly grabbed a cup and began to fill it with water, pulling the dish towel from the nearby oven handle in preparation to give her ‘spot of shame’ a vigorous rubbing down.

As vigorous as she’d currently like to rub down something else.

Trixie shook her head clear, she had to focus!

*Ker-clack*

A loud opening bang filled the hallway, causing a momentary pit of dread in Trixie’s gut that almost surpassed the burning tension in her loins.

“We’re back early!”

Oh no.

“Hello? Trixie?” Spoiled Rich’s nasally whine filled the anteroom.

Trixie dropped the cup of warm water back into the sink and tossed the tea-towel back where she had found it. The fear was surging through her body now, little sparkles of adrenaline that surged to each of her hoof-tips as she danced in dismay at the thought of the upcoming disaster.

“I-I’m in the kitchen, I’ll be right there!” She nervously began to creep toward the entrance hall, each step feeling the grinding of her thighs against herself. Even with the shock of adrenaline her body still hadn’t cooled even a single iota. If anything, the surge of fear made her feel even more sensitive, more alive.

She gritted her teeth as she approached her employers who were already making their way into the sitting room. Plans flew in and out of her head about how she might be able to distract them for long enough to get back to the kitchen and clean the couch, then to dry it somehow, each one crazier and more improbable than the next.

She rounded the corner, and saw… him.

The moment she entered the sitting-room her eyes locked on to Filthy Rich. It was strange. She’d seen him many times before, both around town and through the preliminary interview process… but now, he seemed to almost… glow.

That wavy lock of obsidian hair, those piercing sapphire-blue eyes, his chiseled jaw… those strong, muscular earth-pony shoulders… and those fine, well-toned hips that could surely drive home the unseen appendage between his-

Trixie coughed, to cover the drooling strand of saliva that was leaking from a corner of her mouth. Chuckling nervously, she took a deep, steadying breath, in the hope of composing herself before her new employers might notice that her twintails were almost drenched with sweat.

“Ah, there you are, has our little angel already gone to bed?” Spoiled asked while inspecting her own visage in the hallway mirror, primping her well-coiffed mane and adjusting her pearl necklace.

Trixie stared at the high-society mare’s beautiful collarbone and the shimmering pearls. A pearl necklace. A pearl necklace that had been given to her by Filthy Rich. What Trixie wouldn’t do to get him to give her a different kind of pearl-

“Well? Is she?” Spoiled turned to her with an annoyed, fierce gaze, jerking Trixie out of her reverie.

“Y-yes! I put her in bed…”

Just like I’d like Mr. Rich to put me in his bed- STOP! What’s wrong with me?

That was when it hit her, at first she thought that perhaps Filthy Rich had put on an extremely powerful cologne that must have been very expensive, whatwith how amazing it smelled. But she quickly realized that it was no false perfumery that was wafting through the air, it was just him.

His musk.

It was like cedarwood-spice over a summer campfire. An oaky smell of masculine toughness that screamed about a surplus of good genetics. Trixie could almost feel her female biological calculator clicking and clacking away, running through algorithms that screamed out the same answer: be bred by this stallion.

Trixie blinked, shaking her head and trying to breathe through her mouth, quickly casting her eyes downward in a vain attempt to shake the studly image of her new crush from her eyes. She held a hoof over her chest to steady herself, feeling the pounding heart there just beneath her ribcage.

What’s wrong with me? Relax!

“Hello Trixie,” Filthy spoke up for the first time. His voice seemed to her ears to be two octaves lower than she remembered it to be, a baritone growl that seemed both welcoming and dangerous at the same time. He paused, sniffing the air. “Just what is that delightful aroma?”

You.

Trixie blinked away the immediate answer in her head, quickly realizing that he wasn’t just suddenly smelling himself.

“Smells like cinnamon, have you been cooking?” He began to follow his nose, coming closer and closer to her.

“You better not have - our oven and gas range cost a fortune to put in, and only the best master-chefs even know how to use them properly.” Spoiled sniffed, trotting by the teenage babysitter.

Filthy came closer, following the scent right up to Trixie.

She shivered in place, her watery eyes looking up at her employer. He seemed to tower over her, seemed massive and solid. She certainly was a head-height shorter than him, being only a teen-filly… but suddenly the business-pony seemed larger than even that red farm-stallion.

He sniffed near to her neck, lowering his nostrils close to the sweaty collar of her zip-up hoody pullover, which seemed almost soaked with sweat. He was close enough to her that she could feel his body heat, his warmth. She wasn’t sure but it really seemed like he was getting much much closer than should be acceptable, his nose almost brushing the nape of her neck as he took a deep inhale.

The way he so casually invaded her space, overpowered her, smelled her… Trixie felt her body throb in response, felt her nethers swell even further. She was embarrassed, shy, excited, all rolled into one.

“That’s a lovely perfume, Trixie,” Filthy growled sultrily into her ear, before casually brushing past her.

As he passed her, his dark tail slid along her right flank. It could have been an accident, it happened often enough when ponies trotted by each other that a stray tail might swish against somepony else.

But the situation, the way everything was happening. It left a fiery trace in its wake, tingling along her side. It was like he had just boldly stated that he could touch her however he wanted.

Trixie shivered, almost swooning in place.

“Hmm… looks like you might have spilled some of that perfume here Trixie?” Filthy casually asked.

Trixie whirled about, her face beet red from her shockingly physical reactions to Filthy’s seemingly innocent presence.

Filthy reached down and dabbed the wet spot of Trixie’s on the couch with his left hoof.

“O-oh w-wait-” Trixie stammered, too slow. She watched, horrified, as Filthy brought the hoof to his lips and tasted the small sample he’d collected.

Filthy’s eyes raised up slowly then stared deep into Trixie’s face, his tongue still working around inside his jaw as he savored the fluid he’d put there. For a moment, Trixie was worried that she might lose herself in those deep blue pools, it was like he was staring right through her... like he could see her every secret.

He’s… he’s tasting me.

“...fantastic,” He grinned, smacking his lips and winking at Trixie.

He… he likes it? Trixie felt a rush of embarrassment flood her cheeks with hot blood. Filthy was such a no-nonsense business pony, a pillar of the community. And here was this stud of a stallion tasting her… juice.

“I’m sure,” Spoiled grunted, taking a seat on the couch with enough distance from the spot to show her clear disgust for the strange deposit. She sat like a noble-mare would, prim and proper with her nose held high.

Filthy took a seat next to her, right on top of the wet spot of the couch. But he made no effort to seat himself as though he were in an audience with the princess herself, this was his home after all. He leaned back, stretching his forelegs over the back of the couch as he did so, and let his rear legs open wide in relaxation, splaying his hips wide in comfort.

And very quickly revealing everything that had been hidden from Trixie’s view since he’d entered his home.

Ba-BUMP

Author's Note

Oh boy, I wonder what he just revealed...

Maybe it's his pog collection?