Blueblood scoffed in your face as you stood next to the pony butler who escorted you in. His pristine hay-colored mane swished perfectly as he turned to said butler, “I know I said to find a commoner, but did you have to find somepony so aggressively working-class as this?”
The butler’s grey mustache drooped in embarrassment, “Well, sir, he matched everything you want-”
Blueblood glared at him, “Ugh, nevermind; you’re dismissed.” The butler scurried away with his tail between his legs, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone with the prince. He dragged his eyes up and down your figure. You opened your mouth to speak, but Blueblood shushed you before he sneered at you, “You… yeah… you’ll do fine, I suppose.”
Blueblood circled around you; you were frozen in tense fear as he looked upon you with a judging squint. “Hmm,” he grunted, “You’ll need a suit for tonight’s gala; I think I have just the right one for a commoner like you.” Go into that wardrobe; it’s the only suit in there, a special one for you.”
The wardrobe was extremely ornate, pristinely lacquered mahogany with shiny gold accents and handles. As soon as you opened the thick wooden doors, your nostrils were assaulted by a foul, musty scent.
Blueblood chuckled as you fell back on your ass from the stench, “Heh, whenever I’m not gracing some lowly pony like you with the privilege of being my servant, I use that suit to soak up the fetid stench of my gas.” Blueblood levitated the suit front off the hook and draped it over your face. “See? That’s how a commoner’s supposed to smell.”
You gave a few stifled coughs as the lapels and tie covered your nose and mouth like a mask, filling your senses with Blueblood’s thick, stale fumes. Blueblood walked over and sneered at you, “Here, I’ll freshen it up a little.” He lifted the suit off of your face, swishing his tail to the side and holding it up to his plump white donut.
Blueblood gave a sophisticated chuckle before ripping a massive, less-than-sophisticated fart onto your evening wear. Holding up the glorified fart rag back up to your nose, he sneered at you “My farts alone are probably worth more than you make in a day, peasant. You’ll need to know your place while in my service, worth less than my designer horseshoes.” He dropped the suit into your hooves, “Put this on, we’ll be attending the Gala in an hour.”
The night was surprisingly humid, even in the open air of the outdoor Gala. As per your contract with Blueblood, you were never more than an arm’s length from him; a good “escort” should never be far from his lord, after all. When he wasn’t orbiting around that purple-maned fashionista he seemed to have a fondness for, Blueblood made himself plenty available to the tapas and champagne.
Every fizzy coupe of champagne Blueblood had poured for him he swirled beneath your nose. He teased you, “Mmm, wouldn’t a commoner like you just love to have just a taste of this Dom Perignon?” He chuckled, “Well, too bad, such luxuries are only for us well-to-do ponies.”
Blueblood was ravenous; every waiter that passed him he took something from the plate, teasing you with every deviled egg, canape or spoonful of caviar. He made you watch, driving your empty stomach crazy as his shining white teeth ground the mouth-watering food to mush before you hungrily watched it slide down his throat in a lump. He also managed to drink his way through an entire bottle of champagne that night, and towards the end of the Gala, it had definitely begun to show.
He wasn’t drunk, for sure, but he certainly became a lot more physical in his teasing. As you walked in through his chamber doors, he ordered you down to the ground. You were confused and you hesitated for a second, which earned Blueblood’s slight ire, “Get… down, peasant.” You’re mind raced as you laid down in the foyer like a doormat. You wondered what he meant to do with you until you suddenly found out.
Blueblood wasn’t fat, but he was certainly big. You yiped as the dense weight of his hoof collided with your back. You felt the air squeezed out of you like toothpaste as he slowly, methodically put the rest of his weight upon you. You could only barely draw breath as Blueblood stood slightly swaying atop you.
Blueblood giggled as he cruelly dragged his shoed hooves across your back. You groaned as you could feel your back crack and pop as he used you like a doormat. “Oh, shut up, hoof scraper. You should be thanking me that I’d even let you touch my hooves. Even the dirt in my frogs is worth more than you.”
You could finally breathe as Blueblood walked off of you. You caught your breath in relief before you were quickly worried again by that contemptful look he had on his face as he looked at his hooves. “Hmph, you missed a spot. Looks like you’ll have to polish them with your tongue.”
Blueblood held his hoof up to your muzzle. Not wanting to anger him further, you immediately got to work. Beneath the grime that sloughed off onto your tongue, Blueblood’s hooves were surprisingly smooth for a stallion, like he’d just gotten a pedicure. You could feel the heat trapped between his gold-trimmed horseshoes and his coddled hooves. Pulling them off, you could practically feel the steam escape like a pot of simmering water.
You graciously deshoed and sucked the sweat from each of Blueblood’s hooves before you heard his stomach rumble. “Go on, grab a wine glass and sit at the table. I can feel your meal coming.” You meekly grabbed a fine crystal wine glass from the bureau with your teeth and gently set it on the dining table, laden with fine silver tableware except for your place where you sat.
A blue field of magic surrounded the stem of the glass and Blueblood brought it down to his sheath. He stood abreast to you, letting you get a view of him pouring your wine. He let out a soft moan as he sprayed a frothy jet of his light golden urine into the glass. You licked your lips as he forcefully stopped his stream, still holding in plenty of his piss.
Blueblood chuckled, “Heh, almost looks like the champagne it came from, doesn’t it? It’s certainly the closest a working-class pony such as you will ever get to such luxuries, so I’d savor it. Cheers.” You imitated the wine-snobbery you saw Blueblood perform at the Gala, swirling the full glass of urine. You stuck your nose past the rim of the glass and huffed the aroma of Blueblood’s piss.
You could definitely smell the hint of alcohol in his urine, mixing delightfully with its predominantly musky bouquet. You brought the glass to your lips to take a tentative sip, but Blueblood’s blue haze of magic wrapped around the bottom of the glass, tipping it upwards and forcing you to quickly down his piss.
Blueblood yanked the wine glass away from you and held it under him again. The jet of his urine hissed as he again poured you a glass of wine. This time, he emptied his bladder, the last few drops of his piss falling to the marble tile as he put your second glass of piss on the table. You went to drink it but Blueblood stopped you. “Ah ah, that one’s for your meal. Speaking of which…” He levitated over a fine porcelain plate, rimmed with gold, and put in on the edge of the table.
Blueblood turned around, gently pushing his flanks up to the table. He swished aside his well groomed tail, exposing his donut, as white as the porcelain it loomed over. A loud, airy raspberry of a fart rippled past his his tight anal lips. His gas was sincerely foul, all the party food and alcohol had turned his farts into a rancid, soupy miasma that burned your nostrils with its faintly eggy stench.
Blueblood’s donut swelled before it erupted with his thick, sludgy shit with a noisy flood of popping gas pockets. Blueblood’s shit loosely coiled and doubled over on itself as it smeared across the snow-white porcelain. His shit piled on the plate like a sloppy, olive-hued mountain, filling the air with it’s overwhelming acrid scent.
Blueblood moaned with relief as his royal mudslide had stopped. His once pearly white asshole was stained with his shit, like chocolate icing on a cake donut. He gave you a succinct, if curt, order, “Tongue.”
You struggled to get too close to his rancid hole. “How could such a poised stallion create such foul waste,” you wondered to yourself as you were helpless to not huff his fresh shit fumes. You also wondered if you’d bitten off more than you could chew by signing up to be Blueblood’s toilet. The repulsive taste of even this small amount of shit made you shudder in disgust, and there was a whole plate of it you would be forced to eat sitting mere inches away from your face.
Once you’d finished struggling to polish his asshole with your tongue, Blueblood pointed at an array of spoons for you to use, “Now, which of these is the proper spoon to use for consuming my ‘caviar’, peasant?” The only thing you could tell about the spoons is that they were ordered in increasing size. You picked one at random. With the spoon you picked, Blueblood gave you a violent rap on your front knee. “Not that one, try again.”
After trial and many errors, the skin around your joints was going numb. Finally you’d sussed out the correct spoon: a relatively small one made of pearl. “Ugh, finally. I thought we were going to be here all night trying to teach you etiquette.” Blueblood walked over to his end of the table and sat down. Smugly grinning at you, he said, “Bon Appetit.”
Digging a spoonful of his nasty “pate de merde”, you audibly gagged as you choked it down. You could feel any unburst eggs of caviar pop between your teeth as you chewed his waste. A few tomato seeds stuck between your teeth as his muck smeared across your once pearly whites.
Blueblood silently watched you choke and sputter on his shit until he chided you, “Oh come now, what’s with all this ungrateful fussing? A peasant like you should be grateful I’m letting you eat my waste. It’s the only ‘caviar’ you’ll ever come close to, and still, you don’t even deserve that.”
Desperate to escape his flaunting and elitism, you curbed your tongue and soldiered on, taking spoonful after rancid spoonful of his shit in your mouth with newfound gusto. Without him even needing to tell you, you also licked the plate clean in short order. Blueblood raised his eyebrow and gave the slightest of impressed smirks. “A bit uncouth, but it’s certainly fitting of you to act so brutish.”
Blueblood got up from his seat, “Come with me. It’s time for my evening bath and I’ve sent the bath maid home early, so you will be the one to wash me.” You followed him into the bathroom, just as lavishly decorated as the rest of his home. “Draw the water and disrobe, I’ll get the loofah.” He shouted from across the bathroom as you opened the tap. “And make it extra steamy, I think your common filth’s rubbed off on me!”
Hot steam soon filled the bathroom as you took off your suit and threw it in the separate hamper from Blueblood’s. Blueblood sighed in relief as he sank into the hot, sudsy water of his bath. He didn’t even seem so cross as he told you, “Alright, get scrubbing.”
You gently rubbed the loofah up and down Blueblood’s arms and back. The scent of Blueblood’s preferred soap was nice: subtle and pleasant. The pleasant smells wouldn’t last long however as Blueblood told you to hold your head above the water.
With a grunt, a deep, gurgle rumble came from under the waterline, and small bubbles quickly rose to the surface. Popping right under your nose, the steam of the bath made his scent even worse than it was before. He giggled and told you to resume scrubbing.
You eventually reached his lower abdomen with the loofah. He closed his eyes and you swore you could hear him mumbling under his breath, “...Miss Rarity, you do me an honor…” You were mildly creeped out at how much he thought of her, but you weren’t prepared for what was coming next.
Slowly, the flared head of his thick, pink member rose out of the water. You hesitantly keep scrubbing around his lower parts, and this only seemed to make him throb needily. Eventually his massive cock stood high above the waterline, about a foot of his throbbing stallionhood standing shamelessly in front of you.
Blueblood opened his eyes. “Oh, now look what you’ve done.”
You sputtered, “Wha- Me?”
“Yes, you. If you hadn’t been scrubbing so vigorously down there, this wouldn’t have happened.” He pointed to his stiffy, “So you’re going to take care of it.”
You looked at him, speechless. Was he really saying what you thought he was saying? “Well? Get sucking, peasant.” Yes, he was saying what you thought he was saying.”
You tentatively approached his flared head, hovering your lips above his leaking urethra. You looked up at him, only for him to give a stern gesture of “Get on with it.” You planted a kiss on his cockhead before you took his first few inches in your mouth.
At first, you only took what you could comfortably fit in your mouth, but Blueblood had different ideas. You felt his magic on the back of your head as he firmly pressed you down his shaft, until every bit of his cock that was above water was either in your mouth or had snaked down your throat. Your eyes rolled back from this unfamiliar experience.
Your mind raced as Blueblood yanked you up and down his shaft, using your throat as his personal fleshlight. He closed his eyes against and moaned as you let out a series of wet, sloppy “gluks” as he rhythmically filled your throat with his thick, turgid stallionhood. It didn’t take him long for his breaths to become shallow as he came closer to orgasm. After a few last strokes, he arched his back and lifted his crotch out of the water, exposing his whole two-foot member which he promptly hilted in your throat.
Thick, musky ropes of his royal seed went directly into your stomach as he came. You couldn’t think as all of your senses were dedicated to the two feet of stallion cock that filled your entire throat. After the last few jets of his spunk had filled your stomach along with his shit, Blueblood pulled his rapidly softening member out of your throat with a thick, wet “shlop.”
You coughed and sputtered as he panted in relief, “Well, that… was something. I think I’ve had enough of the bath. It’s time to retire to my chambers for the night.” You drained the tub while Blueblood dried himself off. Blueblood walked to his room in his robes. “Well, peasant, I think that’s the end of your service for today. You’re free to return to your hole in the wall.”
You stopped him, meekly asking if you could spend the night at his place. He turned to you, ready to chide you for your request, but stopped as he looked into your eyes. Something about the sincerity in your eyes combined with the knowledge that he’d just filled your stomach with a load of his shit and cum softened his expression. He sighed, “Fine. just this once. You’d better be grateful.”
“You stay on your side of the bed.” You both slipped under the silken covers of Blueblood’s supernaturally soft bed. Despite how much he “mistreated” you, you couldn’t fight a feeling of genuine attraction to him. Maybe it was his filthiness contrasting his poise, maybe something more. You didn’t have much time to ponder however, as you felt your eyes grow heavy. As you started to drift off to sleep you thought you felt a shift a weight in the bed, and were surprised to find Blueblood’s arms wrapping around you as you finally fell asleep in his embrace.
