My Master

by Kiernan

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Non-consensual, Violence, Slice of Life, Death, Gore, Original Character, Porn, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Fetish
Length: 13099

A toilet slave is elevated to being a manager for a brand-new slave.

It has always been my duty to do as my master says. Whatever it is that master orders me to do, it is my task to do so without question. That is what it means to be a good slave.

It is not my place to control the other slaves and bend them to my will, but if that is what my master commands...

Warning: Contains sex slaves (obviously), watersports (a lot of it), mild scat, foalcon, a rimjob, bondage, attempted rape, attempted murder, small crossbows and flushable toilets.

Published 2022-11-20 07:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2022-11-20 07:10:00 UTC

My Master

“Come on, slut,” I growl, yanking on the collar of the partially-bound stallion. His legs are able to move, still, but only short distances at a time, allowing him to walk, but not run. He’s blindfolded and gagged, so he can neither see where we’re going nor ask questions. “We have a quota to reach. Hurry up.”

As much as I want to move this along, I have to tread carefully. Being a sex slave, myself, I’m often made to fill these quotas. But today, my owner has me trying something new; a position of leadership and middle management that is unprecedented for me. I’ve never been in charge of anypony before. I’m not even allowed to be in charge of myself most of the time.

I’m nervous as I push open the bathroom door and pull my charge inside. We have been provided with a special stall specifically designed by my master, and that is where we are to stay until we meet the quota. If we don’t, I will have failed, and I will be punished.

The stall is indeed quite special. Oftentimes, the preparations consist of cutting a hole through the wall and taping it up. Stallions will poke their cocks through, balancing a stack of bits on the tip. Other times, it’s the same, but our earned bits are given directly to our handler. This was something else.

First and foremost, the toilet was gone; all the way taken out. In its place was a small drain. Just in front of that, a steel frame was set up, made from a collection of pipes that had been welded together. At the bottom was a seat, though it didn’t look like a normal seat. What made it clear to me what it was was the massive dildo with a knot at the bottom to plug the user’s butt. A coil of wires had been stuck to the frame with electrical tape and zip ties, going from the dildo up to a box at the top with a single button.

“Lie down on your stomach,” I commanded. The slut I’d been assigned did nothing, just standing there. “Down,” I said again, a stronger tone in my voice. Still nothing.

I walked around behind him and grabbed him by the balls. This was not so easy with his chastity cage in the way. I pressed on his shoulders as I pulled his balls up, and he quickly lowered himself to the floor. I was hoping he would be compliant, but not today.

Once he was on the floor, I climbed on top of him, unlocking his front hooves and binding them tightly behind his back in such a way that he would need to puff out his chest. I then made sure to tie his legs individually, first around both sides of the knee, then both sides of the ankle, to keep him in a kneeling or lying position. He could go nowhere, inching away at best.

Now, I’m not the strongest pony. As a long-time slave, I’m considered property, so it is the decision of my master as to when I am allowed to eat. He likes me skinny, so I stick to smaller portion sizes. As a result, it takes much longer than anticipated to carry this stallion over to his seat. I may have been smart enough to change him right next to it, but even moving him the half-metre up into the air to make sure the dildo goes into his arse is quite a challenge for little old me.

Once he is snugly situated on his seat, he grunts and squirms, as if he’s trying to push himself off. I have to hold him down as he struggles, all the while trying to secure the remaining straps. It’s not easy, and he fights me every step of the way. It is likely that I will be sporting a bruised rib by the end of the week.

He’s strapped down, finally, and struggle as he might, he cannot move from his new prison. I consider informing my master that it might be easier to strap the slut down first, and then insert the dildo, rather than expecting them to just cooperate. It may save our handlers from having to fight them. Then again, I suspect that our handlers either know already to do that, or refuse so they have an excuse to slug us in the gut. They are typically a brutal bunch.

I take a few seconds to catch my breath. I should probably take some more time, but I don’t want my master to think I’m being lazy or slacking off. I grab the ring gag I brought along out of the small box of belongings. I didn’t want my charge to shout and make a scene all the way down here, so I strapped him with a ball gag, but now I need his mouth wide open.

It is customary with me to remove the gag in my mouth first, and only apply the new one after it’s out. I’m about to do the same to my charge, but it occurs to me that if I take the ball gag out, he won’t want the ring gag in. He’s going to fight me, I can feel it.

I can think of two outcomes. Either I struggle to put the new gag in, and my master punishes me for wasting time, or I apply both gags at once and carefully remove the ball gag, tightening the ring gag as I go. My master will punish me for not following protocol, but may praise my ingenuity and see that I am reasonably useful to him. Either way, I will spend a day on the rack, but if done well, I may be given butter with my bread, and an extra half-scoop of beans.

I decide to risk it, fitting the ring into his mouth. As the ball gag was more pliable, he’s squeezed his jaw partially shut already. I try to pry his jaw apart, but finding no purchase with my weak wrists, I once again decide to try for some ingenuity. The slut had been fitted with a nose ring, denoting his new status. Sometimes, rather than collaring us, our handlers would drag us around by the nose ring. My master usually didn’t let them do that to me, but if I was being bad…

I grab it and pull up. He lets out a yelp, but his nose goes where I tell it to. I have to attach it to the top bar, anyway, to keep his mouth pointing up for the clients. Sooner rather than later could see him injured if he doesn’t open his mouth, but it would make it easier for me to open his mouth.

He still puts up some resistance, but he opens his mouth with a bit of coaxing. I secure the ring gag, then go through the arduous process of pulling the ball gag out through the center of the ring gag.

The door opens, and I hear somepony walk in. We’ve been here for twenty minutes already, and I’ve only just managed to set up the basics. I hadn’t even pulled out the marker yet.

“You havin’ trouble in there?” comes the voice of a stallion. I should have guessed that my master would send somepony to make sure we stay honest. I like to think that he trusts me, but this troublesome slave was another story.

“Almost ready,” I call back. “He gave me a hard time. I’m not used to this.”

“You were supposed to be ready five minutes ago,” he shouts back. “But hey, it’s not my hide that’ll be tanned if you fail to meet your quota. Take as much time as you need.”

A chill runs down my spine as I shudder, remembering what fate awaits me if I fail. Even if the slut should be the cause of that failure, it is my shoulders to which the blame will fall. I quickly scribble down the intended use, hang a sign on the stall door advertising his use, and poke my head out into the hallway.

The veteran handler is there, watching the door. He’s done something that I hadn’t thought to do; put up a sign that barred entry for the customers until I was ready. There’s also a small line forming of stallions looking to relieve themselves, whether using the slut or just the normal way.

“All fixed up,” I say to the handler, turning the sign away. As I walk back to the stall, he follows me. I let him do so, as I would rather have him keeping me in line. If I don’t catch something, he will.

Our stall is at the back of the room. A few guests look at the sign, but out of the first two rotations, nopony wants to go back there. It is a free service, paid for by my master, and they are allowed to make use of it at their own discretion.

When the third batch comes in, I start to wonder what it is I’m doing wrong. I’m not a manager, I’m a sex slave. I’m not trained to sell bodies other than my own.

I back into the stall like a beaten dog, hiding my face from the crowd. I won’t be able to hide it from my master, and he’s going to have a fit when I tell him I couldn’t seduce fifteen stallions for maybe a minute each in a single day.

“Excuse me?” A new voice calls me out of my headspace. “Is this stall open?”

“Go right in, little man,” confirms the handler. I straighten myself out and prepare to offer the slut.

A very young stallion walks in, perhaps not even an adult yet. He takes one look at the setup, and his face contorts into a confused grimace. “Uhhh… What?”

I clear my throat and direct his attention to the slut. “Here you are, sir. Please enjoy.”

He scratches his head. “What do I do?”

“Use him the same way you use a regular toilet,” I smile. “Urine goes in the open hole near the top,” I wiggle the slut’s chin, “and flush when you’re done.”

The lad is still confused, but he presses himself against the wall, anyway. “Are you sure this is alright?”

I nod. “Right in his mouth.”

The young stallion places the tip of his penis in the slut’s mouth. With one last worried glance at me, which I responded to with reassurance, a small, slow trickle of urine drains out of him onto the slut’s tongue. He struggles, and I have to hold his chin steady, but he can’t move more than a few centimetres.

Our guest drains his bladder with minimal spillage. He does suffer a small amount of splash as the slut shakes his head, but I had brought a bag of sanitary wipes with me in preparation for this. Once he’s properly clean, he reaches out to shake my hoof.

“This was a new experience for me,” he says. “I wish I could say it was more enjoyable. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” I smile back. “Don’t forget to flush.”

The young stallion presses the button. A whirring noise is heard below the slut as he squirms and writhes, eventually swallowing the mouthful of piss so he can breathe. As soon as he can moan out, the whirring stops and his mouth is empty.

As he leaves, I find that there is another stallion waiting to use our stall. Two, actually, but the other would have to wait. I welcome the newcomer in and show him our toilet slave. Being familiar with my master, and even having pissed up my arse before, he was familiar with the process, and happy to be involved.

His behaviour is a bit different, though, as would be expected of a veteran. He grabs the slut by the mane, shoves his whole dick inside his throat, and I have to judge by his body language when he finishes, as there is no trickle. His stream flows right into his belly. He even flushes before removing himself, which did make the slut choke a bit, but it must have been an enjoyable experience, as when he pulls away, he’s sporting a very large erection. He jerks himself a few times, then cums all over the slut’s face, including launching a tiny dribble up his nose.

“He’s new, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” I smile.

He drops forty bits into my bag. “Hope the training goes well. I’ll check in again next time I see you.”

I bow. “You are most generous, sir.”

“Generous?” he chuckles. “I’ve dropped more than this on you, little lady.”

I don’t know what to say. I simply bow as low as I can to show my respect. I’ve not seen a single bit from him. Then again, it is my master that chooses how much I am allowed to have. I don’t even know what I would spend forty bits on, let alone more. Perhaps it is for the best that my master keeps it.

When the next one comes in, he looks at me, and then the toilet slave, and then back to me. I gesture to the slut and smile, but he doesn’t seem interested in the stallion on the floor. He grabs me by the shoulders and presses me against the wall.

“S-sir?” I stammer. “I’m not on the rack today. We ha–”

He smacks me across the face and I fall to the ground. I roll onto my back just in time for him to tackle me.

“I’m not fo–”

He steps on my throat, prompting a choking gag from me. I begin to panic as I feel his erection pressing against my thigh. He’s going to rape me. It’s not uncommon, as my consent is very often not asked for or necessary. Normally, I would just roll over and let it happen, but he’s standing on my trachea, and I can’t breathe.

I start to wonder if this is how I die, and as the world goes black, his weight is tossed aside, and air rushes back into my lungs.

I scurry back against the wall and look over the situation. The handler, one of the great brutes that subjugates us, is standing over the client, who is bleeding from the chest. I can see the wound where the dagger hit, and I watch as the handler stows his weapon. “Can you stand?” he asks.

I nod and pick myself up. I’ll be walking with a limp for the rest of the day, but I’ve been worse.

The handler slings the client onto his shoulder. “I have to go dump him somewhere. Don’t make me regret leaving you alone.”

As he walks out, a thought runs through my head. The handlers are mostly vicious, beating us every chance they have, forcing us to do things we hate, and taking great pleasure in our pain. Even so, they are not suited to break us completely. If we are destroyed, our usefulness is limited, which means we don’t make any money for our masters, which means that the ten percent given to our handlers is diminished. Miserable but safe is what they want from us.

I’m not left with my thoughts for more than a few seconds before the next client walks in. “What was all that about?” he asks.

“A disagreement with the rules,” I wheeze, still trying to find my breath. It hurts to talk, but I have little choice. “Please, follow the rules, and you will find your time more enjoyable.” I finish off with my best impression of a smile, but it’s clear that he doesn’t believe it.

“Do you need help?” he asks. It’s not often somepony cares about my well-being enough to offer aid. It makes me feel uncomfortable.

“I’m fine,” I manage to cough up. “Please, make use of our special urinal.”

He nods and pisses into the slut’s mouth, but also all over his face and just a little bit up his nose. I know from experience what a soaked blindfold feels like, and by the amount of squirming and groaning the slut is doing, I can tell that he had his eyes open. Better he learns now to close his eyes when wearing a blindfold than later. It’s not like he could see through it, anyway.

He drops a few bits into my bag and walks out as the next one walks in. “Just urinal, huh? Not a toilet?”

“Not today, sir,” I apologize. “He’s new.”

He looks out into the main room, and waves me over. I’m a bit cautious as to what he wants, but I approach, anyway. It’s a habit I’ve developed, pleasing my customers. Though I don’t suppose they are my customers today. I just see an empty room. “Sir?”

“No one’s here,” he smiles. “I won’t tell anypony if you don’t.”

I consider his offer. It is true that nopony else would know about it, other than the three of us. I would even be allowed to mark it twice on the quota I had, as the rules make it very clear that swallowing shit is twice as degrading as being pissed on and in.

“I’m sorry, sir, but my orders do not allow me to grant you that request.”

He pouts playfully, as if begging me. Unfortunately, my master made it very clear that stallions were only allowed to piss on this one, and I would rather not overstep my bounds. I’d already disobeyed his protocols once today. I didn’t want to make things worse for me. Still, it felt bad to deny a customer.

“If you like, I can have him wipe your arse with his tongue,” I offer. That’s a service that I’m always allowed to offer, if there’s enough time. Given that the room has emptied, I would say that we have the time.

“Deal,” the customer smiles, darting into the next stall. I hear the plunk of his stools dropping into the water, and a few rushes of hot gasses from his anus before he flushes and comes back. He didn’t have time to wipe, so I know he’s still dirty.

He takes his position, and I unhook the slut’s nose ring, pressing his forced-open mouth against the client’s tailhole. I have to hold him still, as he’s struggling hard, but the client is very patient.

I can certainly understand why the slut is complaining. The first time I was made to eat out an arse was a humbling experience. Then again, mine was much worse, as the stallion I had to feed from had diarrhea. Not even before, but directly onto my face as I ate. Thankfully, my master had not made me clean the floor with my tongue, opting instead to have me call in a specialist in the field of carpet cleaning. I did have to scrub my own face, but that was something I was okay with.

The client was moaning softly, meaning that the slut was finally doing his job. Normally, this would be the point where I let go of their head and check the door, but I can still feel him trying to pull away from me.

A part of me wanted to let him go; to untie him and let him leave. There have been times when even I had wanted to run, to disappear and be free. Free to go wherever I wanted, free to collect an income of my own control, free to choose what I wanted to eat, and free to have an extravagant three meals a day. That last one was a far-off dream, the likes of which were only attainable by the wealthy, but it would be nice.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the life for me. I wouldn’t even know what I would do with myself. I could devote my free time to something fun, like doing laundry, but if I was on my own, how much laundry could I really do? Wash my one robe, over and over? I could probably find somepony to wash for, but then I would have to add that to my expenses.

This was assuming that I escaped at all. If my master was to catch me, the punishment I would be forced to endure would likely be unbearable. The last time I’d spilled my master’s coffee, he’d burned me with a branding iron, leaving me at “KLU.” If I let one of his slaves escape, I cannot fathom what he might do to me.

The client pulls away, his cock fully erect and his arse clean. I stop fantasizing about a life far above my station and secure the slut’s nose back to the hooks. It’s much easier now than it had been the first time. He doesn’t struggle as much. His breathing is ragged, and he lets out a soft whimper.

“Can I have him suck me off, too?” asks the client, hopefully. With the erection he’s sporting, I can guess why he’s wanting it.

I check the door and see that there’s nopony in line. “Go ahead,” I say. “Just be quick about it. If you take too long and another client shows up, I’m not allowed to grant you bonus time.”

“I’ll only need a minute,” he says, turning around and throat-fucking the slut. I believe that he can be fast, as he’s very hard already and starting to moan. He cums in the slut’s mouth and calms back down just as the handler comes back.

“Behaving yourself?” asks the handler, washing his hooves.

“Just finishing up,” nods the client, dumping a large sack of uncounted coins into my bag. “He’s all yours. Be nice to the girl, though; it looks like somepony hit her.”

The handler looks to the client. “Was it you?”

“No, no, I would never.”

The handler chuckles. “I know. I just tossed out the guy that did.”

The client nods and walks out. “Have a nice day,” I call after him, signalling to the handler that he was a perfect gentleman. It prevents him from asking about everypony that comes through while he’s absent.

The room is empty except for the three of us for a bit. I know better than to pester the handler. He and I may be on common ground, but he is accustomed to this line of work. I’m more familiar with the role of the slut, and our words are oft considered useless. I opt to sit in silence, just listening for the clippity-clop of approaching hooves. We’re at three uses out of the fifteen we need to reach. How we’re going to collect the remaining twelve is beyond me.

I hear a crunch next to me. I look up and see the handler eating some dried apple chips out of a plastic bag. It’s been ages since I last had an apple in any form, and my mouth starts watering. He catches me staring, and I return my eyes to the floor. I clamp my lips shut to make sure I don’t drool, and try to put it out of my mind.

“Here.”

I look up again, and the handler is offering me a hoofful of chips. For a moment, I consider taking them, but I shake my head when I realise that I cannot. “Master wouldn’t want me to.”

“Who says he’ll find out?”

I swallow hard. “Master always finds out. Somepony will tell him. If I deserve a treat, Master will give it to me.”

The handler shrugs. “Suit yourself, but it’s going to be a few hours before we can leave. I’ve seen better than you break with no snacks.”

His words sting, but I have confidence that I will make it. As little as I am allowed to eat, my master left me once for a weekend, and forgot to assign somepony the task of feeding me. Rather, he had, but they had neglected to do so. I have survived days on tenacity alone, and I don’t want to grow pudgy.

A sudden quiet falls, and I notice that it has not been this silent all day. A shiver runs down my spine, but the handler just nods with a grunt, standing up. “Next wave’s comin’ in,” he smirks. “Ready?”

I nod. I’m not ready, and I doubt I ever will be, but it doesn’t matter. Ready or not, here they come.

It starts as a trickle, just two or three coming in, and then a new line of fresh stallions needing to piss begins to form.

Two of them approach us as the room fills up. “I love these things,” laughs the taller one, clearly a little intoxicated. “Have you ever done one, little man?”

The shorter one looks over the sign. He’s definitely sober, and not having a great time. “No. Look, it’s the only open stall. Just make it quick so I can take you back to your seat. I want some nachos before the next set.”

“Ooh!” the taller one grabs his shoulders. “Extra jalapenos on mine!”

“Fine, just go already…”

“You have to come with, dude! You’ve never been!”

The shorter one sighs and turns to the handler. “Can you watch him?”

The handler shrugs. “I’m not the decision maker, here. Ask her.”

As he gestures to me, I step forward. Another client is stepping up behind them, intending to be the next to use the slut. “There are time constraints,” I say. “If you don’t want to leave him alone, you can go at the same time, and be done faster.”

The shorter one nods. “Fine. Do you charge?”

“Just tips,” I answer with a smile. “Right this way, gentlecolts.”

I direct them to the slut. I’m about to explain how it works when the tall one decides to do it for me. “You piss in his mouth, then push the button, and it flushes him. Any spillage runs down that drain on the floor, last one to empty their bladder wins. Go!”

The tall one has a headstart, letting his stream loose as soon as he says go. Granted, as he’s drunk, he can't keep his stream steady, and it drains all over the slut’s face, chest, head and neck. Some of it even goes up his nose, all before the short one has even aligned himself.

His stream is much more stable, and with less pressure. It’s also noticeably darker. It’s normal to see different colours in the urine of different ponies, but this is very dark. Not quite orange, but very dark yellow. It’s also very pungent.

The slut has to be flushed twice to take it all. The tall one had been saving it for awhile, but the short one is obviously dehydrated. With them both finished, the short one somehow finishing first, I step aside to let them out. The short one leaves a few bits as a tip, admitting that he doesn’t know how much a regular tip is, then dumps a few more, claiming it’s for both of them. I tell him that he should pick up something to drink with his nachos.

Another stallion comes in next. He’s very quiet, not saying a word as he shoves his cock in the slut’s mouth. A few moments later, he flushes, drops a single bit in my bag, and walks out. He doesn’t say a word, just grunting a few times.

The next guest, at first, I think is another stallion, but between his wings, a little colt rides. “My colt’s turning into a fine young stallion,” he says to the handler. “It’s time he learned how to satisfy a mare.”

The handler chuckles. “You’re here on the wrong day for that. This is a toilet, not a brothel.”

“What’s a broth?” asks the little colt. I can’t help but smile.

“Your sign says to use the slut,” the stallion argues.

“To piss on,” the handler argues back.

The stallion looks to me and sees that I’m clean. “No takers so far, huh?”

“I’m not in use today, sir,” I answer back. My hooves start shaking as my mind flashes back to the stallion that pinned me down earlier. I don’t want the handler to take this stallion down in front of his son.

“The tied-up one over there,” points the handler. “The mare’s in charge today. If she says you’re out, you’re out. Show her some respect.”

I can hardly believe my ears. First the handler steps in to help me, then he offers me food, and now he’s insisting that I be elevated above those who have come to use the slut in my care. I’m absolutely dumbfounded.

“If you wish to use me–” I begin, only to be interrupted by the handler.

“Then come back another day,” he growls. “That, or visit the main building on a day when she’s working. We provide a service, which is free today. That does not mean you can do whatever you like. We have rules, and the rules say you use the slut who’s in service right now. Your choices are to take a piss or walk away; you’re holding up the line.”

The client glares at the handler for a few seconds, then turns and walks away.

“But daddy, I still have to pee!” calls the colt.

“We’ll find somewhere else to pee,” answers his father. I feel bad for the colt, as I feel that he would be a little gentlecolt about it, being very nice. He may even have second thoughts about peeing on somepony.

The next stallion comes up, and it’s very clear that he’s excited. He has an erection that he shoves into the slut’s mouth, fucking his throat for about a minute and a half before burying the whole thing. “I worked myself up a bit while your coltfriend was arguing with that other stallion,” he smiled, turning to me. “I usually last longer.”

“I’m sure you do, sir,” I answer back. “Did you have to urinate?”

“Yeah, but it’s hard with a hard-on,” he says. He pulls his cock out and pisses into the slut’s mouth, and a bit over his face, too. It’s a heavy stream, and the slut has to work fast to swallow it down, not wanting to be flushed again.

“Not a drop spilled,” nods the client, smiling. “Nice. If only the ring gag wasn’t there. I could use a good cleaning.”

“I’m sorry,” I bow. “We have to keep the gag on for now. He’s still in training, and we can’t have him refusing or biting.”

“Hey, no worries,” smiles the stallion, patting my shoulder. “It was fun, anyway. I’ll just wash up in the sink.”

“I have wipes,” I offer, pulling out a bag. “Help yourself.”

“Rock on!” he shouts back, pumping his hoof and taking two. “You guys think of everything. I’m definitely stopping by this weekend.”

I blush. I’m not used to this kind of praise. I do enjoy it, but I’m not accustomed to being told I’m smart. He fishes into his coin purse and pulls out a few bits, then looks disappointed. “Something wrong?” I ask.

“I was going to buy nachos,” he says, shoving all of them into my hoof.

“You don’t have to tip,” I offer, holding them out for him to take back. “I’d rather not sour your good time.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No, no, you deserve it. I’ll just bum some off my friend. Ciao!”

Before I can insist that he enjoy his day, he’s gone. I don’t know what to do, and just dump the bits into my bag after counting them, in case he comes back. Fourteen bits.

The room is starting to empty out again. As I return to the door, a strange stallion in a trench coat approaches. His collar is turned up, he’s wearing dark shades, and a hat covers his mane. “This is a controlled area, right?” he says, clearly modulating his own voice. “Nopony will see me?”

The handler points at me. “She has to watch to make sure you don’t hurt the slut, but otherwise, yeah.”

He looks at me, then back to the sign. When he turns back to me, he nods and pushes in, closing the door behind him. I feel a bit nervous as he approaches me, wondering if he’s going to hit me, but he stops right in front of me and lifts his hoof up to his lips. “Not a word,” he growls, “to anyone, even after I’m gone. Do you understand?”

I nod, trembling. I can’t say anything, for fear of him losing his patience with me and lashing out.

He sighs in relief and takes off his coat, hanging both it and the hat on a wall hook. It’s only then that I realize the need for privacy. This is where stallions come to relieve themselves, and not only is the pony in front of me a mare, but the head of the band everypony came here to see today.

As she turns around and sees my jaw hanging open, she closes it with her hoof. “Not a word,” she reminds me in her fake voice as she looks me in the eye. I shake my head, covering my mouth with both hooves. I’m certainly not the biggest fan of her music, but to have her coming to me for sexual relief is truly an honor I don’t deserve.

She climbs up on top of the rack, sitting herself down on the slut’s face. After a few seconds of sitting there, her stream begins to drain into his mouth. She moans with satisfaction, forgetting to disguise her voice, but I doubt that anypony outside can hear her, or would even recognise it when echoed through the room, drowned out by the sound of toilets flushing.

When she’s done, I help her to climb down and she flushes the slut, holding the button longer than is necessary. The slut is unable to cum due to the chastity cage, but she definitely keeps him on the edge a bit longer.

With her lust satisfied, she turns to me. I smile, trying to be reassuring. In the next moment, she grabs me by the mane, pushing her tongue into my mouth. I’m unable to react at first, riddled with shock, but as I relax, she digs around in my mouth, licking at my tongue.

My head is swimming as she pulls away. “Not a word,” she reiterates, putting her disguise back on. She pulls three pieces of paper out of her pockets, along with an unsealed envelope. She shows me the first two; tickets to her next show with backstage VIP passes. The next is an invoice, as it would be ridiculous for her to carry twenty-five hundred bits in her pockets. She even signs it, meaning that, even if we didn’t cash it in, we’d have her signature for a decent payday.

She licks the envelope sealed and drops it into my bag before exiting the stall, brushing past the last stallion in the room. “H-have a nice day,” I manage to stammer out. Even if we don’t make the quota, I can hope that my master is pleased with the gifts she’s offered. I make sure to move my bag away from the slut to prevent any splashing.

“Let me know if any other stallions show up,” says the new client to the handler. “I may be awhile, so tell me if I have to hurry up.”

“That’s up to her,” gestures the handler. “Make your case.”

The stallion stands in front of me and puffs out his chest. “I was one of the first stallions in here, but kept letting others go before me. I specifically waited to be last so that I could take as much time as I needed. I’ve been patient for your benefit, now I ask for the same courtesy.”

“As long as you follow the rules,” I say, being in a forgiving mood after that kiss. “You are going to pee, right?”

“Naturally,” he says, mounting the slut. He rubs his cock against his cheek, scooping up bits of cum and piss, dropping them into his mouth. Rather than starting off with a stream of urine, he places his balls into the slut’s open mouth. “Lick, boy,” he commands, “slowly.”

By now, the slut has accepted his purpose, licking slowly the stallion’s balls. I wonder if he’s crying underneath that blindfold, but as it’s soaked, I can’t tell. I’ve seen countless mares of all shapes and sizes break, but to know I’m the one breaking this particular stallion is a different feeling. It’s less like he’s joining me, and more akin to me forcing him down.

I shake the thought from my head. It is not my place to question my orders. If this is what I am being made to do, then who am I to deny the client his joy? Honestly, I could put an end to this right now, and tell my master that I did what was required of me, but the other handler… He would be a loose end.

The client pulls his hips back, slowly inserting just the tip into the slut’s mouth. As there has been no command to stop licking, he just keeps going, worshiping that flare. It seems as if he already had the training to handle this, but not the willpower.

Slowly, the client pushes his cock down into the slut’s throat, causing him to gag as the girth spreads him. I can see his throat bulging against the flare as it slides down.

The client looks down at his prize. “You’re a dirty slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I moan out. All eyes in the room turn to me. I don’t know why I said it, it was just instinct. I even knew he wasn’t talking to me. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he chuckles. “You can be a dirty slut all you like. I won’t judge.”

With one last push, the client moans deeply, his balls resting on the slut’s chin. The slut squirms, letting out choking noises, but before I can tell the client to pull out, he does so.

“You call that stamina?” he asks, slapping the slut across the cheek. “Couldn’t even hold me in for ten seconds. Try again.”

He shoves himself in again, and I count silently in my head. The slut chokes and gags, but the client doesn’t deprive him of air for any longer than thirty seconds at any given point, coming up frequently to let him breathe. Soon, the slut’s throat isn’t bulging anymore, and he stops choking. His gag reflex must have trained itself.

Only then does the client begin thrusting, grabbing tightly the slut’s head and pushing as deep as he can, then pulling up to the medial ridge, then back again in fifteen-second intervals to allow the slut to breathe. It’s a lot to watch, and I can only imagine what it must feel like.

My hoof drifts down between my legs and starts rubbing. Part of me wishes that I could be the slut right now, choking down the client’s massive, throbbing, musky cock. I don’t envy the belly full of piss, but I enjoy knowing that my clients are pleased. If the client is happy, my master will be happy, and that’s all I need to know.

It’s not much longer before the client empties his balls. His first spurt is deep, but then he pulls out, shooting rope after rope of sticky cum over the slut’s face. I’m nowhere near finishing, but the stink of my arousal is starting to waft throughout the room.

“Tongue out,” the client commands, and the slut complies. The client drags his dick and balls across it, wiping away his cum. “Very good,” he smiles as he finishes up. “Now, we can’t just leave your face all messy like that, can we?”

Lifting his leg, the client sprays a stream of urine across the slut’s face, washing away all of the cum. It has a good amount of pressure behind it, even seeming to deform the slut’s softer flesh as it sprays. There’s a lot of it, brightly coloured, as if he’d been drinking a lot of water to make sure he had enough.

When he’s done, he flushes what little was actually drained into the slut’s mouth, as most of the stream ran down his body and away through the floor drain, a few globs of cum sticking to the grate. The client leaves a hefty sack of coins in my bag and walks out, washing his dick in the sink before leaving.

I’m once more left alone with the handler, in an empty lavatory with only he and the slut. I hear the music through the walls this time as the star that was in here calls to her adoring public. I can’t make out a word she says, or sings, but the guitarist makes himself heard very clearly. I know that he and the vocalist are close, but I wonder if she’ll tell him to come visit us down here. I may not be a big fan of their music, but his beard makes me smile.

The handler clears his throat. He’s once again holding a bag of apple chips out to me. I once again shake my head.

“I can see your mouth watering,” he scowls. “I know you want them, and you need to keep your energy up.”

I shake my head more vigorously, shrinking away.

He sighs. “Look, I’m not trying to cause you any trouble. If you think I’m going to report you for stealing food, then rest assured, this is a gift.”

“M-my M-m-master…” I stammer.

“I won’t tell him you ate anything,” he says. “Even better, if he asks, I’ll tell him that I offered and that you declined several times until I was insulted by your refusal. You’re a handler, now, and you need to be capable of handling things. Eat.”

With a tentative hoof, I reach out and take the bag, looking back and forth between it and the handler, then the door. If somepony were to come in and see me eating, could I really deny to my master the service he expects of me in cycling clients quickly?

My hooves are shaking as I reach into the bag. My hoof is still a little bit wet from when I was rubbing myself, and I try not to touch more than one chip. As I bring it up to my face, I take one last look at the handler, looking at him as if he were a school bully peer-pressuring me into stealing a cookie from the bake sale.

As my teeth crunch down on it, I taste the sweetness of the apple, bathed in the tartness of the lemon it had to be washed with to keep its colour during the drying process. My eyes close as the pleasure of the flavour washes over my tongue. I can’t believe that I’m allowed to taste it again.

“It’s really good,” I say, giving the bag back to the handler. “Thank you, sir.”

“Take the whole bag,” he says. “It’s what, twenty grams? Don’t even worry about it.”

He’s right, it barely qualifies as a meal, or even a hoofful, but it’s still more than I would be comfortable taking. It just seems a bit too much for me to outright take. I don’t even know how much I would owe him for such a gift. I’m not familiar with it in the slightest.

I reach into the bag and pull out another chip. I look at the handler as if he’s suddenly going to berate me for being greedy, but he’s just watching me, unmoving, as if he’s waiting for something. I fear that he’s going to lash out at me as soon as I finish, so I just take two more then put the bag away.

“Still feeling self-conscious?” he asks. I nod in response. “Don’t be. I’m not trying to start a revolution, here, I’m just trying to make sure you’re not going to collapse the moment you have to carry the slut out of here. Fuck’s sake, you have no muscle mass. It’s a miracle that you were able to drag him in here in the first place.”

“Well, he was tied up,” I dismiss, but that only seems to make him more aggressive.

“That’s even more impressive. He didn’t want to come in, and you made him do it. That’s the second hardest part of the job.”

I swallow hard. “What’s the hardest part?”

He snorts. “Dealing with the riff-raff. Making sure the clients are satisfied without harming the slut, disposing of those who want to be harmful to us, stuff like that. One at a time, you know?”

I do know, and I nod along. I can’t do all of that, so I have to assume that the parts I can’t handle are in fact hard to deal with.

We sit for a few minutes, just listening to the music together. I expect that we won’t see anypony else until the next break, but to my surprise, a rather large gryphon walks in. I quickly struggle to put away my snack and scramble to my hooves, rushing to the door.

“He-hello,” I smile. “Sorry for the wait.”

“What wait?” he asks. “I’m not even there yet.” He stops at the sink to inspect his neck feathers, then, after a few seconds, approaches me. “Now then, you have a toilet stall here?”

“For today, yes,” I nod, trying to be accommodating. “Would you like to use him?”

“Yes,” the gryphon nods, pulling out a tiny crossbow that was concealed under his wing. As he points it at my face, the world goes cold. “On a more permanent basis. Goodbye.”

I close my eyes and hear the twang of a crossbow bolt being loosed.

“Goodbye.” For the second time today, the handler has saved my life. “You have just the worst luck,” he sighs, reloading his own hoof crossbow. “Honestly, one crazed rapist on your first day, I thought was rough, but a scalper? You piss off a witch, or something?”

I can’t answer. I’m still reeling from the shock, too afraid to move just yet.

“I don’t know why you were selected for this job,” he sighs, dragging the dead body into the stall with us and closing the door. "Hell, I don’t even know how you ended up indebted to the boss in the first place. But if he wants you doin’ this regularly, he’s going to have to spring for some weapons training. I can’t save your arse all the time.”

I very nearly collapse to the floor as silent tears roll down my face. I don’t know why such horrid things are happening to me, but I’m not trained to maintain such control. The handler is right; I’m not ready. I never was, and I don’t know if I ever will be.

After a few deep breaths, I look to the handler. He’s stripping the gryphon down and rummaging through his pockets. So far, he’s pulled out a few hundred bits, some crossbow bolts, a spare crossbow, and a folded-up hacksaw. As he keeps going, though, he finds a folded-up piece of paper, which he reads before letting out a snort.

“What a shitty thief,” he scoffs, placing his hoof on the gryphon’s neck. “Dumb bastard accepted the job without an advance. And he opted to try making off with the merchandise during the workday. Doesn’t he know it’d be easier to sneak in while we’re all asleep?”

“H-he’s not… s-s-staying, is he?”

The handler shakes his head. “Dead bodies are a boner-killer. I’ll dump him in a minute. But first,” he walks over to me and puts the spare crossbow in my hoof. “This thing’s loaded, so don’t mess around with it. You shoot an innocent, and I’m telling your master everything.”

I nod emphatically. I don’t even want to hold this thing; I’m not a killer. I’m not even a fighter.

The handler tosses the body over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back. Remember, don’t pull that trigger unless you’re absolutely sure.”

I nod again. Even if I am sure, I probably wouldn’t pull the trigger. I place the weapon on the ground as soon as he rounds the corner and wait for him to return. If someone does come in meaning to harm me, I will just have to hope that the handler comes back in time.

As it so happens, another gryphon comes in moments later. He wipes something off of his beak in the mirror, then turns to look at me. “You open?”

I nod through the crack in the door.

“You gonna let me in?”

I pull the door open and he walks in. As he passes, I can clearly see that he’s armed, and my mind immediately jumps back to the crossbow on the ground. I could easily pick it up while he’s not looking and have the protection I need, but I’d still feel awful about holding it, and worse about pointing it at him. I know in my heart that I can’t pull the trigger, anyway.

He walks right past me, though, leaning forward and pissing into the slut’s mouth with no hesitation. I pick up the crossbow, just holding it in my hooves behind my back. I don’t want him to see it, I just want him to finish and leave.

As the last of his dribble leaves his cock, he tosses a few bits into my bag and moves toward the stall door, stopping before he leaves. He turns back to me and scowls. “That crossbow would be far more intimidating if you held it out in front of you,” he says. “In fact, if you strapped it to your chest with the logo facing out, nopony would mess with you. It’s a well-respected brand.”

I nod, still trembling.

“And try to keep from shaking; the less savory types will know that you’re afraid and will try to force themselves on you.”

As he leaves, I have to wonder if he knows more than he let on. That he was able to tell that somepony would force themself on me would not be much on its own, but by the fact that it already happened makes it seem almost prophetic. That, or he knows that I already suffered through it. I suppose I didn’t hide it very well.

I shudder at the thought of having to use the crossbow, but even if I wanted to, I can’t holster it. I don’t have a place to put it.

I hear the music end. A wave of fear rushes over me. The concert is over, and the last wave of ponies is about to come in here before the end of the night. I’m not even two-thirds of the way through my quota, but this is my last chance to claim a few stragglers. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I no longer have the added security of having the other handler to support me if things go wrong.

In a snap decision, I stow the crossbow in my bag just as a rush of stallions enters the room. I have to steel myself and put on a smile in seconds in order to be ready to greet anypony.

The first one to walk up to me is a unicorn. “Toilet Pony,” he reads on the sign, almost stumbling in. “I’m a pony, I need a toilet. This must be for me.”

I help to guide him over to the slut. As wobbly as he is, and as drunk as he smells, I can tell that he needs all the help I can give. Unfortunately for him, that help is confined to the interior of this stall.

As he hangs his hooves over the support bar, the metal creaks. He’s huge compared to me, and the weight of him is staggering, in that it is bending the steel. He starts urinating without even looking, and it’s going right to the floor. I quickly dip my hooves under his waist and redirect him into the slut’s mouth. He has a lot to drain, and it’s coming out with such pressure that I have to hold down the flusher to keep the slut’s mouth empty. I have to wonder if this can count as two, as it is voluminous enough for two, but I don’t think my master would allow it. It could count as cheating, or just plain lazy.

He finishes up, and despite the fact that the slut’s mouth is empty, he flushes anyway, then turns and stumbles away. I have to hope that somepony is willing to take him home, and that he’ll be safe. I can’t follow him and make sure, so hope is all I have.

I take a deep breath and see who’s next. It’s another pony in a trench coat, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a mare this time. It looks to be three young colts, and the visible one looks very nervous behind his fake moustache.

“He-hello, fellow stallion,” he says in a clearly fake voice. “We’re here to– I mean, I’m here to make use of your facilities.”

“Good catch,” says his knees.

“We’re go– I mean, I’m going to need some privacy with your adult toilet for adult reasons.”

I have to stop myself from chuckling. “I have to be in there, as well, but I promise not to judge.”

“Uhhh… One second.” He pulls his head inside of the coat. “What do we do now?”

“He promised,” says his butt. “He’s not going to tell anypony.”

“Make him turn around,” says his knees. “That way he doesn’t see us.”

“Okay.” He pops up again with his fake moustache stuck to his cheek. “As long as you don’t look, We’ll be fine.” He shuffles a bit and wobbles. “I mean, I’ll be fine. Yeah.”

“Right this way, sir.” I stand aside as they enter and lock the door for them. The head looks very nervous, suddenly, as if he never expected to make it this far, and was not prepared for what he sees. “Something wrong, sir?”

“One second,” he says, before disappearing again. “Guys, I’m not so sure this is a good idea.”

“We’ll be fine,” says his knees. “Nopony’s figured it out yet.”

“Yeah, but I just saw the thing. I don’t know how to use it, and I think this might be a bad idea.”

“What are you talking about?” asks his butt. “My brother uses one of these all the time, and he says it’s totally the best thing ever. I’m not missing out just because you’re afraid.”

There’s a moment of silence, then the head says “Okay. But I still don’t know how it works.”

“What’s to know?” asks the knees. “Don’t all toilets look the same?”

“This one looks like a stallion, and I think he’s breathing.”

“Wait, really?”

“If this is your first time, sir, I can help you,” I offer.

He pokes his head out again. “Being an adult who does adult-type stuff, I of course know what I’m doing,” he says, not realizing that his moustache is missing completely now. “But, uh, why don’t you explain it anyway, so that I know that you know how it works?”

Well, first, you take off the trench coat, so your friends can see.” I pull off the coat, revealing that it’s actually three colts, suddenly looking very scared.

“Please don’t tell my mom,” says the head, looking the most horrified. “It wasn’t my idea!”

“I’m not going to tell anypony,” I answer. “I’m not even going to ask for your names. Who wants to go first?”

“Me!” says the butt, stepping forward. He stops when he sees the slut. “Wait, isn’t it supposed to be a girl?”

“Sometimes,” I say. “It’s a boy today.” I lift him up to the proper level, and then explain the process, as simple as it is, letting him be a demonstration for his friends.

When he’s done, the next one, the knees, is already climbing up the slut without my help. Holding onto the bar above him, he pisses into the slut’s mouth, moaning as the slut licks his balls. He’s there for a minute, then falls backward into my hooves. “Can we do that again?” he breathes. This was likely his first time, but I have the feeling that he’ll be back.

I turn to the last one, who has found his lost moustache. “Are you ready?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I want to do this,” he admits.

“Oh, come on, you big baby,” teases the butt.

“It feels really good,” confirms the knees, still shaking.

“I don’t feel well,” he says. “And I don’t have to go anymore. Can we just go home?”

“Fine,” groans the butt. “We should have brought along somepony else…”

As they gear up to begin walking out, I pull the head aside and give him a card, telling him to drop by sometime, and I will make sure he’s taken care of. He nods and drops a tiny little sack into my bag, saying it’s his allowance for a whole month and a half. I give him a small kiss on the nose. He leaves with a very red face. I imagine that he’ll make some mare very happy someday. Probably not me, but I may introduce him to one.

Unfortunately, due to all the extra time I had to spend with them, the room is mostly cleared out. As much as I would have liked that colt to up my numbers, it was too early for him, and I don’t want to force him, if he doesn’t want to.

There are two ponies waiting, those being a pegasus and the handler. I stand aside and let them both in. “Was that three foals in a trench coat?” the handler asks as soon as they’re out of earshot.

I nod. “Three colts. The one with the moustache was very polite.”

“You know that they’re a risk, right? If their parents found out, the stress they could cause for your slut’s owner; your owner, would be reflected onto you. They could demand you be fired, and while you won’t be fired, you can imagine what will happen to you.”

I swallow hard. I had considered it, but passed it off. They helped me meet my quota, so it was only fair that I let them relieve themselves. There was no evil intent. Besides, my first client today had also looked underage, and he was let through with no issue.

Of course, I said none of this. I didn’t want to upset him any more than I already had. I have the feeling that he’s warmed up to me over this whole thing, and I don’t want to ruin that. I want his help, but I need to meet my quota.

Speaking of, the pegasus is finished before my thoughts return, and as he walks out, I begin to panic. The room is empty. The room is empty, and I still haven’t met the quota I was given.

“No,” I whimper. “No, no no, there has to be somepony else!”

“Didn’t meet your quota?” asks the handler, leaning against the wall. “You know what that means, right?”

I turn to him. “There has to be somepony else!”

“Well, let’s see…” He looks out into the bathroom. “Nopony in here but us. We can hope for somepony else to come in, but it’s unlikely.”

I slump down against the wall and begin to cry. Perhaps he was right. Maybe I am cursed. Not only did my life come close to being ended twice tonight, it’s possible I may yet be disposed of for not meeting my quota. I’ve failed.

“Wait here,” he commands, stepping outside into the hallway.

I can’t do anything else, and I just sob into my hooves. How could I have failed my task? I don’t want to be a bad slave. I just want to make my master happy. I want to follow his orders. I don’t like him being angry at me. Even if this wasn’t my fault, I should have done better.

“So you’d really be doing us a favour if you started here, instead.” Along with the handler, I can hear a second set of hooves approaching and a squeaky set of wheels. “And to cement that, we’re prepared to offer you an opportunity that usually has to be paid for. Just for you, just this once, we’re going to offer it to you for free, and all you have to do is take a two minute break, then do the job you were already planning to do.”

I pull the door open and a stallion in a navy blue janitorial jumpsuit walks in, pushing a cart with cleaning supplies. He furrows his brow as he looks at me. “Are you okay?”

Before I can say anything, the handler answers. “She’s had a bit of a rough day, and she’s close to having enough ponies in her headcount to allow her to go home. But she didn’t quite make it. That’s why she needs your help. She needs you to help her cross that quota line. See how upset she is that she couldn’t finish?”

I nod along. I have no reason to lie, and I do need his help. It was a bit false to say that we’re not going to charge him for this, as we aren’t charging anypony, but it is true that we often charge for it, and he wouldn’t have to pay this time.

He enters and sees the slut tied up to the machine. “What the fuck?”

“All you have to do is pee in his mouth,” the handler says. “Do that, and you’ll have saved her from the disappointed accusations she’d end up receiving otherwise.”

I nod again, wiping my cheeks with my hoof.

The janitor grumbles something about having to clean this up, then unzips his jumpsuit. “Just pee? That’s all? You don’t want him to suck me off or anything?”

“You can have him do that if you want,” I sniffle. “Thank you so much for helping me.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says as his stream starts up weakly. He doesn’t seem too happy about it, but I can guess that’s because he’ll have to clean it up. That said, with the state of the stall, he’d have to spend some time cleaning up, regardless. It’s a mess in here, with piss stains, bloodstains, and sticky bits of toilet paper that floated over from the other stalls. And of course, some cum, as well.

It’s possible that he’ll even have to clean the rack. I’m not familiar with setting it up or taking it down, as every time I’ve seen it, it was already in place. And after that, of course, the toilet that had been here has to go back in. I don’t envy this custodian, but I thought for sure he’d like to at least have his cock sucked by a whore. Or maybe he’s just not into stallions?

He finishes up and zips up, not taking the opportunity to use the slut’s mouth as a fucktoy, despite specifically asking if he could. “Are we done here?” he asks. “Can I do my job?”

“That’s all fifteen,” the handler smiles.

“Fourteen,” I correct. “I was short two. Now I’m short one.”

The handler sighs and turns to the janitor. “I’ll send somepony to clean this up. You don’t have to worry about this room.” He offers a business card. “If you do end up taking care of this before tomorrow morning, send the bill here.”

The janitor shrugs and pushes his cart out of the room and the handler turns to me. “One more, huh?”

I nod.

“The place is empty. I’m pretty sure even the minimum-wage teenagers working concessions are gone by now. There’s nopony else here.”

I know it, and the tears come rushing back to my face. I can’t help it. I tried as hard as I could, and I still didn’t manage to finish my master’s task. All I could hope for now was that he wasn’t mad about it after I gave him all the money we made tonight in tips. It was straining the strap of my bag, and there was a big IOU and backstage tickets in there. That was so much, and if it was enough, maybe he’d forgive me.

“Open up.”

I open my eyes and look up, and the handler is shoving his cock into the slut’s mouth.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“What’s it look like? I’m your fifteenth client.”

“But… You’re a handler. You can’t count toward the quota.”

“That rule only exists to keep handlers from fudging the numbers. I could say I took a hundred pisses in one of my slut’s mouths, and it would do me no good. Furthermore, I’m not his handler. You are. You aren’t allowed to count yourself pissing on him. You’re allowed to piss on him all you like, but there will be no numbers added. I am not on the paperwork. I’m here as a favour to make sure you don’t fuck anything up. I can totally be a client.”

I had never considered that he might be here of his own free will. I had only ever considered that he was paid to be here. To find out that he was here as a favour, rather than just as part of his job recontextualizes everything for me. Sharing his rations wasn’t an order he was given, but a choice. He could have, legally, watched that gryphon kill me and just let them take the slut, and it wouldn’t have caused him a demerit or cost him any pay for stolen goods. He was free and clear, and he’d stopped to help me every time.

He let out a small groan, then flushed for several seconds before pulling his cock out. “That’s fifteen?”

I nod. “That’s fifteen.”

“Good.” He shoves his cock back in and starts fucking the slut’s face. “I’m going to finish up here before you run off with him. If you still need to fill out some paperwork, or you want to finish those apple chips, now’s the time.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t bring the paperwork. I was told to keep it off the books.”

It’s his turn to be surprised. “Off the books, huh? That’s a bit shady. Why doesn’t the boss want this recorded?”

“I don’t know. I’m not supposed to ask.” My words aren’t really false. While I could guess at a few good reasons why the boss wanted this kept quiet, I can’t speak to his exact reasoning.

It’s not long before the handler cums down the slut’s throat, flushing that down, as well. “Well, I’m off,” he says, letting his length slip back into his sheathe. It’s still dripping, as the gag doesn’t allow the slut to close his lips.

“Do you want me to clean you up?” I offer. “You saved my life twice today; it’s the least I can do.”

He shakes his head as he moves behind the slut. “You’ve been through enough, today. Come on, let’s break him down into something more mobile. You took forever setting him up, so I figure you’ll need somepony to help break him down.”

I decide that it may be a bit of a lost cause to argue with him. He’s done so much despite my objections, and if he really wanted to, he could push me aside and do the whole thing himself. He can’t lose, no matter what I do. It would just be easier to go along with what he says, so long as it doesn’t interfere with my orders.

I take out the ring gag, and as the handler is holding his jaw open, I put in the original ball gag. It’s much easier. We then unclamp his nose and lift the slut off the machine and place him face-down on the floor. His stretched arsehole winks at me a few times as we undo his current bindings and retie his legs the way they should be for transport. That is to say, the handler shows me while I assist, as he’s much better at it.

While it took me almost half an hour to set him up, it’s less than five minutes bringing him down. Now with his belly full and his coat dripping yellow, I grab his leash and lead him out of the room. He’s much more docile now, meaning the training was effective. The handler stays behind, saying he needs to send a message.

The ride back to the main office is a short one, as had been the ride to the venue. The driver says nothing to either of us, and we say nothing to him. I barely move, but the slut at the end of the leash struggles to free himself. I don’t blame him, but it’s not something that typically results in good things happening. I have the right to spank him, but I opt not to, as I’m not that cruel.

We arrive at the brothel and I drag him up to the main office, where the owner is having his way with one of the mares. I sit down, choosing to wait my turn.

“I can do both,” he says, beckoning me forward. I come closer, dragging the slut along. I stand before the desk and bow. “Have a seat.” He gestures to an overstuffed leather armchair. I do as he commands. “How was he?”

“He behaved well, sir” I lie. “We had some problems, but he didn’t fight for most of it.”

“Bullshit,” the boss said, pulling out a letter. “The additional support I sent says there was quite a struggle to put him into the restraints. That’s not well-behaved.”

I lower my head. “I will be honest, sir, I have nothing to compare it to. I thought he behaved well, considering that it’s his first time.”

The boss grunts as he cums inside of the mare pleasuring him. As he slips her a few coins, she stands and walks out, still dripping. “Compare it to your first time, and the first times of the girls you were helping learn. How was he, then?”

I swallow. “He was bad, sir.”

He nods. “That’s right. Do you think he learned anything?”

I shrug. “I can’t speak to what goes on in his mind, sir. He hasn’t said a word since you placed him in my care this morning.”

There was a short pause, then the boss tossed his head back and laughed. “No, I don’t think you can tell what he’s thinking. While you do know him better than everypony else, I don’t think anypony could say what’s going through his head right now. He’s never experienced this before.”

I nod and lower my eyes to the floor.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

The boss stands up and walks around the desk, pulling the ball gag from the slut and holding out his hoof to me. I give him a wipe, and he cleans his hooves of the now-sticky urine.

“You smell like a latrine,” the boss says.

The slut spits on the floor. “I wonder why…” His speech is ever so slightly stilted, as if he’s having trouble holding his jaw closed after having it open all day.

“Have you learned your lesson, son?”

“Oh, yes, daddy, of course I have.”

“Good.” For a moment, all is quiet. I half expect the boss to go back behind his desk, but instead, he leans down until his snout is just in front of the slut. “And just what lesson did you learn?”

The slut freezes. His breathing stops for a moment, as he doesn’t know the answer.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…” The boss returns behind his desk. “If you can’t tell me what this experience has taught you, I’ll have to have you go another day.”

“Wait!” shouts the slut. “You didn’t give me time to answer!”

“Take all the time you need,” the boss shrugs. “If you’re still here tomorrow morning, it’s back on the rack for round two.”

The slut whimpers, racking his brain for an answer. As much as I want him to figure it out on his own, I lean down and whisper, “Respect.”

“Respect!” he shouts. “I’ve learned respect! Right?”

The boss swirls his drink. “Have you? What does it mean?”

“T-treat ponies nice?”

“What ponies?”

“The good ones.”

The boss shakes his head. “Wrong answer.”

There’s a pause, and then I lean down and give him the answer again.

“All of them!” he repeats.

“Even slaves?”

The slut is silent again. He hangs his head and begins to cry.

“Now, now. None of that. The way you smell, I’d say there’s been enough fluid leaking down your face for one day.”

The slut sniffles. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I have three mares in the hospital that I have to give paid leave due to injuries received during the course of their work. I make no money for their lack of work, but I have to pay the extra insurance and their salaries until they’re healed. While I certainly can afford it, it’s not something I actually want to pay for. It’s a financial loss, and you’re the reason it happened.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen! It was an accident!”

The boss takes a long puff of a cigar. “Accidents don’t happen. The level of management above those girls is tasked with their safety. It moves up the chain of command until it no longer can.”

“They weren’t under my chain, though!”

The boss turned away, popping a tape into the VCR. Immediately, the slut’s voice was heard. “You, you, and you, come with me.”

“Now,” puffed the boss. “Who was that?”

The slut was silent. I leaned down and whispered, “It’s you,” giving him the correct answer again. He responded by headbutting me.

The boss turns to me. “Why don’t you wait outside? I’ll handle the rest on my own.”

“Yes sir,” I nod before dropping the leash and leaving the room. There are a few chairs in the hallway, and I sit and wait in silence. A few other slaves walk past me, as well as a few handlers and a bouncer. A customer also came to ask if I would suck him off, but the bouncer directed him back to the main floor.

It’s almost twenty minutes before I’m called back in. Once more, the boss directs me to the chair. “Now,” he says to the slut, “I believe you have something to say to her.”

The slut is crying, but still has a disgusted look on his face. “Thank you for your punishment… whore.”

“I am happy to be of assistance,” I say, a canned response. It’s a habit at this point.

“Nice try,” sneers the boss, smacking the back of the slut’s head. “You say you learned respect, so show it. Use her real name.”

The room turned silent. I don’t know if he had forgotten my name, but I had long ago. Nopony had used it for over a decade.

“Don’t you tell ‘im,” ordered the boss. “You’ve been giving him the answers all night. This is something he has to figure out on his own.”

I nod. Despite being in a safe place and doing nothing wrong, I’m terrified. Not for what is currently happening, but because of what will happen. I know that I will be under little scrutiny from the boss, but what comes later is out of my hooves.

Failing to remember my name, the slut stays quiet.

“You’re a shitty owner,” snorts the boss. “You’ve been in charge of her paperwork since she was a child. You fill out reports to her health all the time. If you can’t thank her properly, then you are no longer fit to own her. Say goodbye.”

The blindfold is ripped off, and my master looks me in the eyes, scowling at me for what I’ve done to him. I immediately lower my gaze, as I am not supposed to look him directly in the eye.

Though I suppose he’s not my master anymore. “You’re to serve as a slave until I’m satisfied that you’ve actually learned your lesson. If you keep lying to me, you’ll keep going back to the rack. All of your property is going to this slave, who will be trained to take your place until you can prove to me that you’ve earned it back.”

My eyes go wide. I’ve never held that kind of power before. “But sir, I don’t know how to do that.”

“That’s what the training is for. I’ll assign a handler to ensure that you don’t fuck it up. Somepony trustworthy.”

I slowly nod. I cannot refuse an order from the boss, much as I was unable to refuse an order from my master. While he is no longer my master, my life still rests in his hooves for now, and will likely return as soon as he actually learns his lesson. On that day, it would be in my best interests if I kept everything the way he liked it.

The boss pats my shoulder. “He’ll be sleeping where you sleep when you’re misbehaving, and you will sleep in his bed.”

“You can’t do tha–” My master is interrupted by the ball gag being pushed into his mouth. His blindfold is also tied back on.

“Your orders for tonight are to take him home, put him to bed where slaves being punished go, and take care of any other usual tasks. That means feeding and cleaning the other slaves, et cetera. They are under your temporary command, so feel free to employ them. I’ll have somepony stop by tomorrow morning with clearer instructions.”

“Yes, sir,” I bow. “Right away, sir.”

Picking up the leash off the ground, I give it a tug toward the door.

“Come on, slut. Hurry up.”