“She has a good heart, really, I just think she has some...” Cheerilee chose her words carefully here, “bad influences.”
“I see,” Spitfire drawled, not really seeing at all. She let her aviators fall, hanging by their string around her neck. She was happy to be doing this out-of-uniform, feeling much more comfortable in her brown bomber jacket. She’d feel way too weird wearing the spandex inside the schoolhouse. “So where do I come into this, Ms. Cheerilee?”
Cheerilee sat at her desk, gesturing for Spitfire to take a seat. She looked around and... well, there were a lot of options to choose from, but most of them were knee-height. She opted for hopping up onto the corner of the desk instead.
The teacher cleared her throat. “The bad influence in question is one of your Wonderbolts, Rainbow Dash.”
That got a grin out of Spitfire. “You know, I’m only here as a favour to her, right? Are you seriously telling me you got my rookie to... what, bring a note home to her parents?”
Cheerilee smiled at that too, but did her best to hide it. “Yes, I’m well aware. And I’d appreciate you not telling her, actually.”
“No problems. I’m actually impressed. Must be serious to go this far.” Spitfire looked at the neat stack of papers on the other corner of the desk. Tests to be marked. Two piles, one graded, the other not. A lot more in the ungraded pile, so it looked like she shouldn’t waste anyone’s time here. “But what does my rook have to do with your Scootaloo?”
“Rook?”
“Rookie. Dash.”
“Oh. Thank you for your patience, Ms Spitfire, I’m not familiar with a lot of... a lot, actually. It makes it that much harder to talk to Rainbow myself.”
Spitfire nodded. Sometimes it was easy to forget yourself just talking to a civvie pegasus; the gap was even wider still if you weren’t a flyer.
“Scootaloo really looks up to Rainbow Dash, and in a lot of ways Rainbow Dash is a very good pony to aspire towards. It’s just that, in a lot of other ways...” It was the diplomatic trailing off of a teacher who firmly believed that if you can’t say it nicely then you don’t say it at all.
“Sorry, I train athletes, not role models. Not my department.”
Cheerilee frowned, but it was the kind of frown Spitfire imagined having when she was trying to do the morning crossword. “Then whose is it?”
“Ah, we don’t have one. It’s not our jobs, ma’am.”
Cheerilee blinked, then laughed. “You’re joking. Of course you’re joking. I’m sorry, I was being slow again.”
Spitfire bristled at that. “No, ma’am, I’m not. Being good role models isn’t what we train for.”
Cheerilee stopped laughing, and looked at Spitfire in a way that felt... well, uncomfortable. Like she didn’t quite fit in her own skin anymore. “You seriously mean that? Ms. Spitfire, I’m led to believe the Wonderbolts are the best of the best, what every pegasus aspires to be.”
Spitfire nodded proudly at that, rubbing a hoof against her jacket. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Then isn’t your entire job description to be a role model?”
The hoof stopped. Wait... “Ah, no, ma’am, it’s to be the best flyers in Equestria. That’s all.”
“I see.” Cheerilee said slowly, not like she didn’t believe Spitfire but just like she was trying to put the pieces together herself. “But you are aware that an entire nation’s youth looks up to you, then?”
“Yeah, but we can’t help that. It’s not... we can’t just...” It was hard to explain when Cheerilee was watching her so patiently. Spitfire sighed, hard. “Okay, I see your point. We do our best to make sure the squad always stays professional in uniform, but it’d take a blind pony not to see we’ve had issues lately.” Actually, it was a kind of a blow to the gut to realize just how much kids must look up to them, and think about what kind of image the squad was projecting to them.
That wasn’t a good sign. Thinking about the Wonderbolts as flyers still filled her with pride, but the idea of kids looking at them from the stands and emulating their behaviour...? The idea was making her a little sick, actually. The Equestria Games alone hadn’t been a high point for any of them.
Cheerilee hadn’t said a word while she thought about this, just watched patiently. “So you’re starting to see the problem I have, then?”
“Coming in crystal.” Spitfire nodded, trying to climb off the teacher’s desk as politely as she could. Maybe a little more respect was owed at this point than she’d been giving. “You want me to talk with Dash, then?”
“If this hasn’t been something you’ve been thinking about, then I’d urge you to.” Cheerilee... scolded? Wasn’t quite scolding, but it made Spitfire feel real small. The rookie had a friend, Fluttershy, it was like being chewed out by her. “But Rainbow is the problem right now, yes. She’s a wonderful pony, but some of her rougher edges are...” Cheerilee stirred the air in front of her with a hoof, again trying to find the words.
“They’re rubbing off on some of your kids, ‘cause she’s the local hero.” Spitfire was starting to actually work this one out. Took her long enough. “So what’s Scootaloo actually doing, or done, just so I can get a better idea of the problem?”
“She’s reckless, and a daredevil, and doesn’t seem to think about the consequences of her actions. Remind you of anyone so far?” Cheerilee added wryly, and Spitfire nodded. Yeah, it sounded like her entire squad, honestly. “A more specific incident might be, say, the time she and her friends thought it’d be nice to help me find a date for Hearts and Hooves Day. I did appreciate the thought, but they thought the best way to go about it was by poisoning me.”
“Wait, sorry, hold on. What?”
Cheerilee laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Or her smile. It was the same laugh Spitfire saved for very special press conferences where she was asked about a teammates latest fluff up. When you try to remember all the reasons you love them so you don’t storm away and kill ‘em. “It was a love poison. So I and one of the girls’ brothers, Big Macintosh, would fall very much in love. Very much in love. Distressingly in love.”
“Wow,” Spitfire said. “How’d that work out?”
“They found a cure, but it could have gone very badly. He ended up dragging a building across town trying to get to me, actually... We’re friends now.”
“Friends? After that?”
“He’s a charming stallion, really. We just weren’t each other’s type, when the potion wore off.” There was a pause for thought, and Spitfire appreciated the shift from wistfulness back to reality, “It was also a bit of an awkward way to start a relationship.”
“Ah ha.” Spitfire felt something click that she’d just taken for granted. “Wait, a whole building?”
“Big Macintosh lives up to his name,” she chuckled. “He’s such a gentle soul, but he’s very... well, big.”
“Big isn’t your type?”
“Well, if you must ask,” Cheerilee shot Spitfire a look, and Spitfire realized just how forward she was being. Felt like kicking her hooves nervously and apologizing, but swallowed it down, because she was the fluffing Captain of the Wonderbolts, “I do like muscles, yes. But I’d rather they be on a pony my size. And without a baritone, as lovely as his is.”
Noted. “Alright. So poisoned you because she thought it’d get you a date. That sounds like something Rainbow would do for somepony, yeah.”
“That’s the worst part,” Cheerilee slumped forward on the desk, catching her head in her hooves, “It’s always for. It’s never to. She never means anything bad to happen. But when her idol is synonymous with the phrase ‘collateral damage’, it becomes that much harder to explain why her behaviour might still be a problem.”
“I can’t just talk to her myself, can I?” Spitfire said, noticing one of the windows was broken, taking a wild guess who was responsible, “Scootaloo, I mean.”
“One good lesson from you wouldn’t make up for all the bad ones she’d still be learning. Why?”
“It just seems like it’d be a lot easier than trying to teach the rook to pony up. It’d be an exercise in herding cats just trying to keep her head on straight. Teaching isn’t my forte, and that’d take up way too much of my time as Captain.”
“Aren’t you in charge of the Wonderbolts Academy in the off season?”
“Well, yeah,” That feeling of being chewed out by Fluttershy again, Spitfire hadn’t gotten dressed down in over a decade and darned if she wasn’t out of practice at taking it. Didn’t help it was such a polite one, “But that’s not really teaching. Ponies are expected to have the skills before they show up. I’m just trying to figure out which ponies are Wonderbolts material.”
“So it’s not an academy in that sense, then?”
“More like it’s there to run the drills and see who makes the cut. That kind of academy, yeah. Not much teaching to it.”
“Do you even really talk to them?” Cheerilee was off her hooves now, was staring her down intently. And Spitfire realized she was standing in front of the teacher’s desk at the front of the classroom, and that probably wasn’t helping matters any, so she hopped back up on the corner of the desk again. “While they’re in the Academy.”
“Nah. I mostly keep times and do paperwork.”
“So how do you know which ponies are Wonderbolts material?”
“Ah... The ones who get the best times, do the drills the most professionally, have their own style. All that you can get just by watching them. Every one of them would tell you they’re the best, that’s for sure, but you can’t take their word for it.”
Cheerilee shook her head, and Spitfire got the impression she’d given the wrong answer somehow. “But if they’re going to be role models, shouldn’t you try to learn if they’re the right... fit for the Wonderbolts image as well? What do you do when the best flyer has the worst attitude?”
The honest answer was probably ‘promote them’. It didn’t sound like a good answer to her own ears, but she didn’t say it. But she couldn’t think of a better one fast enough, so Cheerilee took her silence for the stalling that it was.
“I see.”
“Well, I never got any formal teacher training,” Spitfire admitted, “Got the job for being the best, and everypony figured the responsibilities that came along with it were just an extension of that. How the Wonderbolts always worked. I wouldn’t have the first clue on how to go about teaching the rook anything like that, Miss.”
“Never? Not even a weekend seminar, or a self-help book?”
“Leadership and team management, sure,” Spitfire parried the the question with a reassuring smile. “I’m not a meathead jock. Just not my field of study.”
“Would you like a crash course?”
Spitfire shrugged at that. “You offering?”
Cheerilee laughed, and it was the most genuine one Spitfire had heard this whole conversation. Made the reassuring smile she’d put on genuine too, just for hearing it. “If it means Scootaloo ends up hurting herself a little less often, then yes, it will have been well worth my time. I’d settle for having fewer broken windows, but they’re easier to replace.”
“You really care that much about all your students, huh?”
“Of course I do, don’t you?”
Spitfire shook her head emphatically, no, shifted her weight back on the desk and swung her hind legs absently, holding her weight up behind her and giving the effect of a permanent shrug. “Used to. But then I realized maybe one recruit a year makes it up to rookie, and I have to axe the dreams of everyone else in the intake. So I get to know them, sure, but...”
Cheerilee waved it off, grimacing. “No, It’s different. I have students, you have candidates.”
“If you’re talking squadmates, though, yeah I care that much.”
“But?”
Spitfire stopped swinging her legs. “But?”
“I’m sorry, there was something in your voice. It sounded like...” Cheerilee trailed off.
Spitfire shifted her weight awkwardly. Leave it up to a school teacher to be able to read when you’re hiding something. It was probably a survival instinct for her. “Yeah, but that’s more a boss relationship than a teacher, right? It’s not the same thing.”
“I wouldn’t know. It sounds like you think so, though.”
Spitfire didn’t know what to say to that, so she pulled the conversation back. “So, teaching me how to teach, right?”
“If you’d be up for it.” Wow, she got enthusiastic about that. Eyes lit up, smile from ear-to-ear, like she’d just gotten her cutie mark for this. “I’d love to try.”
Spitfire held up a hoof. “One condition. We’re training for the worst case scenario here, right? I get to act like Dash would. You show me you can handle that, and I’ll take the whole lesson to heart.”
“I handle thirty children at once, every day.”
“Yeah, and the rook is worse,” Spitfire pointed out, dead serious, going double-barrel on the raised eyebrow front.
“I—” Cheerilee paused, sighed. “I see your point, yes. I suppose anything less would be underequipping you...”
“There’s the spirit. So come on, teach.” Spitfire threw herself off the desk, spun around and took a smooth glide into one of the classroom desks. “Teach me to teach.”
Cheerilee was obviously getting into this. She put the next ungraded test down in front of herself, obviously not taking the challenge seriously. Or maybe just wanting to add some extra challenge to it.
“The first rule of teaching is never lose your calm. No matter how far a student pushes you, no matter how many buttons they push, you must never appear to lose your calm. The appearance of authority is everything.”
It was the same as being a leader. Not just giving orders ponies wouldn’t question, it was giving them in such a way that it looked like you couldn’t question them. Inside, Spitfire nodded, noted the advice down.
Outside, though, she was the rookie. So she rolled her eyes, snorted, and rocked back in her chair.
Cheerilee gave a secret smile at that, the kind of smile that let the mouth whisper it sees what you’re doing while the eyes shout they’re not amused. “I’m sorry, am I boring you?”
“Kinda, yeah.” Spitfire rocked back far enough she was leaning into the desk behind hern “When’s recess?”
“Later.” Secret smile was gone, they were getting into their roles now. It was actually kind of fun. Maybe this would help her understand the rookie better too... “Right now, we’re getting you ready for the test.”
“Wait, test?”
“Yes.” Cheerilee nodded slow and severe. “There will be a test at the end of this.”
“Fluff that. I don’t gotta be here if I don’t wanna.”
“Fine then. Leave.” Cheerilee pointed at the door with one hoof, eyes on the paper she was marking rather than Spitfire, which actually stung a little. “Just know you will have failed my class.”
Owch. Spitfire folded her hooves across her chest and remained silent, glaring at Cheerilee. The teacher didn’t even acknowledge it, just kept on marking papers and waiting for Spitfire to leave when they both know she wouldn’t.
“Good. Then I’m glad we understand each other. As I was saying; It’s important to remain an absolute authority figure. Never flinch. Is that first lesson understood?”
“Crystal.”
“Then we can move on. Next is figuring out how each student learns, which students need the carrot, and which work better with the stick.” Eyes never left the pages she was marking, but still Spitfire got the impression she was being laughed at. “Apparently you’re going to be a ‘stick’.”
“I’ll tell you where you can stick it.” Spitfire said before she could stop herself. She nearly clapped her hooves over her mouth, but she was being the rookie, wasn’t she? Rookie would just say that fluff and own it, even look smug. So that’s what she went with. It was stupid how much she was enjoying this, actually.
That got Cheerilee to look up off the page. “Excuse me?”
“I said ‘Please go on, miss’.”
“I see.” A long silence. “I hope you’re not enjoying yourself too much, young miss.”
“Enjoying what?”
“Mhmm.” Cheerilee finally unfurled herself from her desk, stretching just enough for Spitfire to notice, and made her way to the chalkboard. “It’s also important to remember not every student learns the same way. Some learn best from verbal instruction, others from visual. Some can only really learn by doing.”
Made sense. They ran drills with a thorough mix of practice, instruction and diagrams because of that. Still, Spitfire pretended not to be paying much attention as Cheerilee wrote two big words on the chalkboard.
AUTHORITY & DISCIPLINE
Then she underlined both, and fixed Spitfire with a firm stare that dared her not to pay attention to this part.
Spitfire idly wished she had gum to chew.
“Authority is what you project. It’s the standards you hold yourself to, and it’s the atmosphere you cultivate. We’ve already covered the first part of that. Can you repeat back to me what I just said?”
“You project authority, and it’s about cultivating an atmosphere.”
“Good enough,” Cheerilee admitted. She whapped the board with a ruler, pointing to DISCIPLINE. “If authority is about what you expect from yourself, could you take a guess at what discipline is referring to?”
Wait, she totally did have some gum. She had some breath mints for if she ever got bugs stuck in her teeth. Score! Next time Cheerilee turned her back, all she had to do was reach into her pocket and... “Ah, no, Miss. But I guess that’s why you’re the teacher.”
“Discipline is what you enforce on your student. You keep them on-topic, and focused. This goes hoof-in-hoof with authority, because you can only spend as much in discipline as you earn in authority. If your student doesn’t respect you, they’ll see your attempts as a sign of your flaws, not theirs.”
Definitely a problem she had with the rook. Dash respected her fine, just... less than she resented attempts to keep her in line. She’d have to keep that in mind for later. For now, it just made an interesting addition to keep in mind for her roleplay. She grabbed the gum and started chewing, even though Cheerilee hadn’t turned her back yet.
“What are you doing.”
“Chewing gum, Miss.”
“I see. You brought enough for the whole class, then.”
Spitfire leaned back in her chair and took a long, deliberate look around the empty classroom. “Seems like it.”
Cheerilee extended a hoof out to her. “That includes me.”
Oof. Spitfire passed the pack to the teacher, who took it, unwrapped a piece, and handed the rest back. Started chewing her piece at the front of the classroom with a grin.
“Which means finding out how to enforce discipline in a way that builds authority rather than diminishes it. Now, put the rest of the gum away or I might not be so permissive next time.”
“Yes, Miss.” Spitfire murmured, putting the pack back in her jacket pocket.
“Good. Remember, discipline isn’t just about correcting negative behaviour, it’s about knowing how to reward positive behaviour as well. As soon as you show some of it, I’ll be sure to demonstrate.”
Spitfire snickered at that, but only got a stern look from the teacher for it.
“Did I say something funny to you?”
“Ah, yes Miss, a bit.”
“What was funny about it? That you haven’t had any behaviour worth rewarding yet, or that I look forward to encouraging it when I see it?”
Spitfire blinked. “Wait—”
“Mhmm. I see.” Cheerilee turned to the board, and—
Spitfire broke character, couldn’t help it. “How the hay did you just do that?”
Cheerilee, to her credit, stayed in-role, “Do what?”
“I’m just playing a part here, and you still just made me feel like my heart fell through the floor.” Spitfire shuddered, “I’m Captain of the fluffing Wonderbolts, and you just made me feel like I was a teenager all over again.”
Cheerilee gave that secret smile and whapped the chalkboard again with her ruler. AUTHORITY, the ruler cracked.
“Know what behaviour you want to encourage and discourage,” Cheerilee said, and the ruler cracked against DISCIPLINE, “and do so.”
“Huh.” Spitfire mused, chewing her gum. “I see.”
“Would you like a moment to get back into character?” Cheerilee teased, “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”
Spitfire nodded, closed her eyes, and drew her jacket around herself. Alright. Be the rook. Channel her inner teenage self. What was that like? “I’d rather be enjoying you, teach.”
That was the first time she managed to get Cheerilee actually speechless, which was so great that it was the only reason Spitfire managed to keep a straight face. “I’m sorry?”
Spitfire wiggled her eyebrows and leaned forward against her desk. “I said, I’m volunteering to clap your erasers after class.”
Cheerilee made a little ‘ah’ of understanding, and walked back behind her own desk, sitting back at it and leaning across, watching Spitfire. “I see. You’re trying to get a rise out of me, then? What was the first lesson, Miss Spitfire?”
“I don’t remember. Was too busy staring at your flanks, Miss.” Spitfire grinned. Okay, maybe a little less Dash in this one, and a little too much of her highschool self, but she wanted to see how hard she could push this.
Cheerilee nodded, keeping the desk between them and not giving Spitfire a clear view of her lower half. Well played, it severely limited the cracks in her arse-nal. Heh. “It was never flinch, young Miss. So while your current game is very amusing, it’s not going to work.”
“So you say!” Spitfire was cheerful now, almost drunkenly so. “But maybe I’m not a verbal learner.” She waggled her eyebrows fiercely. Wasn’t this how she got a B in calculus? Definitely less of the rook was showing through here, but she was having too much fun now to care.
“You were paying attention then,” Cheerilee sounded more relieved than anything else by that, which was probably why she let herself walk so hard into the open line, “What kind of learning style would you say suits you, then?”
“That’s an easy one, teach.” She grinned harder than she had in years. “I learn by doing.”
Cheerilee stayed still at her desk, reaching for a drawer or something. The teacher closed her eyes while she processed that. Might not have made her flinch, yet, but this was definitely overwhelming her. Spitfire beamed innocently, just waiting to see how the teach would handle this one.
The ruler hit the desk. “So you’re a tactile learner?” Cheerilee’s voice was low and even. “Then maybe you need more physical means of reinforcement.”
Spitfire laughed. Cheerilee didn’t. “You’re not saying you’re going to spank me, are you, teach?”
“Yes. That is exactly what I’m saying.”
Okay, so it looked like she wasn’t going to back down. This was a dangerous game of chicken they were playing, but heck, it wasn’t a game Spitfire was going to lose. She swallowed her gum, hard. “You don’t have the nerve, teach.”
“Come up to my desk, Miss Spitfire,” Cheerilee said, “and see if you still want to test me.”
Spitfire got out of the small schoolroom desk, unfolded herself and took a long, languorous stretch. Let her joints pop a little as she walked to the front of the classroom. The thing had been more cramped than she thought.
Cheerilee held the ruler in her jaw, no hesitation in her eyes. Got out of her own seat and walked to the side of the desk as Spitfire leaned forward into it, resting her chin on her forelegs. “Ready to have your bluff called, teach?”
There was a crack, and Spitfire yipped, biting down on her jacket’s cuff. “I don’t make idle threats, young lady. And I will continue for as long as you think this kind of behaviour is acceptable in my classroom.”
Had she just... she had? Wow. Cheerilee played for keeps. Her rump still stung a little, warm tingling ringing out with her heartbeat.
"Do you treat all your students this way?"
"I must admit, it hasn't come up before that I've had my students proposition me. But if you sought to test me—"
"Test results are in, Cheerilee, and your backswing's rusty."
Another sharp smack, and this time Spitfire bit her lower lip. Just below where the last swing had landed, striking a tender part of her thighs that’d make it hard to sit still for a while. Spitfire moaned into the desk.
Cheerilee’s voice carried into her ear. “We’re not done here, young lady. Hold that rear high for me.”
Spitfire had let her knees sag. She straightened her posture, and flagged her tail for good measure. Immediately got rewarded for it with another strike, just below the tail. Spitfire grit her teeth, looked back over her shoulder at Cheerilee.
Cheerilee had the same stoic expression as before, ruler held firm. “Eyes forward.”
Spitfire leaned forward onto the desk, doing as she was told. “And just what are you trying to teach, anyway?”
Another crack, hard, between the marks from previous strikes. Spitfire gasped. That one really hurt, actually.
“Discipline. I can only have as much authority as you allow me, so I’d like you to apologize for your disrespectful behaviour.”
“No thanks, teach, I’m good.”
Another strike, a diagonal blow that joined across two of the previous marks and made her blood hiss beneath the skin. She bit down hard on her right foreleg just to stop from crying out, didn’t want Cheerilee to have that satisfaction. Her tail went back down, too.
There was a problem she didn’t really want to show off anymore; She was actually getting really hot and bothered by this, and she didn’t want to show it.
Cheerilee was breathing heavily around the ruler in her grip, and flicked Spitfire’s tail back up. “There will be no covering yourself from this, young lady.”
Another crack, with her tail lifted. Eyes forward. Spitfire was biting the right side of her cheek, chewing it. Another, and another, and she didn’t let out a sound, but it was getting harder now.
She folder her forelegs over the desk and buried her muzzle in it, spreading her her hind legs further apart in defiance, giving her rump a taunting little shake that was immediately answered with another strike.
And now the ruler was coming back damp.
Cheerilee finally dragged a moan out of her, as desperately as Spitfire bit down on the back of a foreleg, when she dragged the flat length of the ruler between her legs, sliding it smooth and slick.
“Ms Spitfire,” Cheerilee had a tone like she had caught Spitfire passing notes in class, “Are you enjoying your punishment?”
Spitfire didn’t say anything, but her trembling back legs were answer enough.
“I see.” The flat of the ruler held between her legs and lifted her up, and Spitfire’s rump rose not from the force of it but from the sensitive nature of just where Cheerilee was applying the pressure. She stood, still muzzle-down on the desk, straight-backed and spread. “It’s important to find what every student needs to learn, Ms Spitfire, and I think we’ve found yours.”
“Y-y-yeah?” Spitfire’s teeth were chattering. The bruises on her behind were flowering out, making everything so much more electric.
“Up until now, if I might indulge a cliche,” Cheerilee pressed the tip of the ruler to Spitfire’s folds and parted them, inspecting them. The sudden, sharp touch of air forced a snort out Spitfire’s nose, stopping just short of pulling a moan or a whine out of her. “You have been a naughty little girl, haven’t you?”
“I g-guess I have, teach.” She was shuddering. She felt like a stupid, horny teenager which, she had to admit to herself, was actually pretty great.
Cheerilee rolled her grip back the other way, peeling back the other fold now, newly exposed flesh eliciting another sharp hiss of breath. “You’re acting out for attention, aren’t you? Making a spectacle of yourself. Eager show-off, above all else.”
Well. She was playing the rookie here. And she wasn’t Captain of the Wonderbolts because she didn’t appreciate the eyes on her...
The ruler pulled back. Cheerilee pulled back. Spitfire made to turn her head, but again the teacher snapped, “Eyes forward!”
Spitfire obeyed.
“Good. So now we know what we need to do for discipline, don’t we?”
“Spank me some more?” Spitfire asked, hopefully.
“No.” Still that calm, patronizing voice. “Nothing. Stay still. Eyes forward. We’ll continue when you’re ready to apologize for your behaviour.”
Spitfire laughed, but it came out nervous to her own ears. “So you’re not going to do anything?”
“Correct. Absolutely nothing. Until you apologize.”
Ah.
Spitfire realized this would have been far less of a threat if she wasn’t absolutely soaked right now. Those last few exploratory pokes, the constant ringing of excited nerves pulsing with every heartbeat, had left her painfully in need.
Her knees folded together and she tried to grind into her own hard, muscular thighs, but Cheerilee’s ruler slapped between them and pulled them apart. It was then that Spitfire really did whine.
“Please, Miss?”
“Are you ready to apologize yet?”
She wasn’t. Not yet. Her eyes winced shut and she forced her jaw against her foreleg hard, but she didn’t say it yet.
Cheerilee watched, and did nothing.
Which was the fluffing worst. She was right there, she could have leaned in, she could have touched her, or licked her, or kissed her, shoved her tongue inside her and suckled on her clit and held the edge of the ruler hard against her teats and-
“Ah.”
And thinking about everything she should have been doing really made her not doing it that much worse.
The silence was so tense, they both heard the first bead of Spitfire’s arousal splash against the hard wooden floors, and recognized it for what it was.
“Just so you know,” Cheerilee said from behind her, “I’m going to be making you clean that up later.”
Why did that turn her on?!
She was winking now, grabbing at nothing and aching when she got nothing.
“Please, Ms Cheerilee?”
“That’s a good start, young lady. But it’s still not an apology.”
“I promise I’ll be good if you just...” Nnnf. She didn’t know what she needed Cheerilee to do, but she needed to do a lot of it and she needed it right now.
“I don’t need you to be good, Ms Spitfire. I need you to be obedient. Which means you will apologize to me.”
“Fine! I’m sorry! Now, fuck me.”
“No.”
Spitfire’s head snapped back to look at the thoroughly unimpressed Cheerilee, resting her chin in the crook of her foreleg. “No?! What do you mean--”
Cheerilee moved fast, and the ruler snapped on the desk beside her head before she could finish. “Eyes forward until I give you permission otherwise, Ms Spitfire.”
Spitfire obeyed.
“Now. What are you apologizing for?”
“Being really fluffing horny, Ms.”
“See? Insincere. You don’t even really know why you should be sorry.” She slunk around the table now, like a cat, or the kind of librarian you see in thigh-high fishnets, and she sat on the small desk in front of Spitfire. There wasn’t much room for her, but that rather seemed the point. With a roll of her hips, Cheerilee swung a leg up and over Spitfire’s head until she was straddling the desk and Spitfire was nestled between Cheerilee’s thighs.
The musk from them made her mouth water. She swallowed it back, running her tongue along the back of her teeth, gulping hard.
“Eyes forward.”
Cheerilee wasn’t dripping like Spitfire was, but her folds were blushing red, and her clit was swollen and engorged like a ripe berry, and Spitfire swallowed back again.
The ruler went under Spitfire’s jaw and lifted it, so she was forced into eye contact with the teacher. The Wonderbolt shuddered at the hard, unflinching gaze. She wondered if this is how she made the rookies feel at the academy... her tail twitched at the idea.
“You said you learn by doing. I am going to teach you how to please a mare. A real mare. And until I am satisfied with your results, you will not be permitted any satisfaction of your own. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Good. When instructing a student, you must give clear instructions and examples they can understand.” Cheerilee tilted her hips up more, wriggling herself closer to Spitfire’s muzzle. The scent was dizzying, filling her mind with foggy clouds, rich and heady. “You are to lick me now. Start low and slow, and don’t touch my clitoris yet.”
Spitfire did as she was told, tongue out, forelegs pressing her weight up off the table to give herself more leverage, and she buried her face between the teacher’s thighs as a long, rumbling moan rattled its way out her throat.
Cheerilee watched quietly, assessing her work. “Good. Alternate sides, and firmness. Stay even, and steady, without getting repetitive. That’s a good girl.”
Cheerilee tasted like saltiness and sour tang, and Spitfire’s legs trembled again. She wanted to look up and watch the teacher’s expression again, but she hadn’t been given permission. Eyes forward.
“Flick your tongue occasionally, and find where to press. Listen to your partner, find out what she responds to, and follow through.” Cheerilee instructed, voice still clear as ever. She wasn’t responding to anything, yet. “Every partner is different, just like every student is different, and you must learn how to... mmm.”
Spitfire had started suckling, running the edges of Cheerilee’s folds between the inside of her upper lip and the tip of her tongue, trailing a firm and constant pleasure that finally managed to get enough of a reaction out of Cheerilee as to interrupt her train of thought. “Like that?”
“Yes. Like that. Very good. Well done not using your teeth. Remember that harder isn’t always better, that’s probably -- ah, yes, just like that -- just about right.”
Spitfire was picking this up a lot faster now that she was getting proper feedback. There was probably a lesson about lessons in there, too, and she felt clever for picking up on it. She also felt burning, insatiably, painfully horny with Cheerilee’s cunt against her muzzle, but pretty clever too. She experimented with techniques, and found using long strokes of her tongue, like she was trying to catch drops off a melting ice cream cone, got the best noises.
“Excellent... mmf, excellent work.” Cheerilee was biting the tip of her hoof now, doing her best to keep her composure. “You’ve been a fast learner, now, haven’t you? You may work my clit now, and help me finish. When you do, we’ll get you sorted as a reward for good behaviour.”
Spitfire briefly entertained the idea of not finishing the teacher off, backing out and letting her suffer so close to the edge like she was. But that’d just leave them both miserable.
Instead she lipped over the hood of Cheerilee’s clit and flicked her tongue around the sides of the nub, trailing the tip over the center of it whenever the teacher finally managed to get her breath back. She was panting now, moaning through the hoof she held in her clenched teeth, and holding Spitfire’s head hard between her thighs.
“Keep doing exactly... exactly what you’re doing.” Cheerilee was breathing hard, but kept the iron core in her voice, the Teaching voice. “It’s really tempting -- Ah! -- when your partner gets this close, to go harder or faster. But the best thing to do -- Ooooh, yesss -- is to be consistent.”
Spitfire couldn’t respond, those thighs pressing her head too hard to even nod, but she did as she was instructed.
Cheerilee stopped making noises, just as all the muscles in her body tightened and thrummed at once, releasing Spitfire’s head. The teacher rocked back on the desk, twitching, head thrown back and mouth open wide in a soundless scream. She slammed the table a few times with a hoof.
“Good?”
Cheerilee was still twitching, but managed to nod, eyes still winced shut and teeth chattering.
“V-very g-good girl. Well done.”
“Thank you, Ms Cheerilee.”
“Turn around. Get your flank up on this desk for me. You’ve earned your reward.”
Spitfire turned as requested, feeling her own legs trembling. She held her wings out a bit to try and be steady. There was no way to do as asked without kneeling forward, in a very submissive fashion.
She was okay with that.
Cheerilee’s hooves touched the burning, sensitive spots from the spanking and Spitfire just didn’t have the same composure as her instructor. Her front hooves gave way and her face hit the classroom floor with a needy, guttural moan.
“Really now? I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”
“Sensitive...”
“Well. That’s good then.” Cheerilee agreed, pulling Spitfire’s flank higher into the air with a quick tug of her tail, “This should be a lot more interesting then.”
Then Spitfire’s eyes rolled back in her head as Cheerilee took the first long, slow lick up, tongue pressed firm and flat.
“Now, time for your test.”
“My test?”
Cheerilee made a noise that sounded like conformation, lips still pressed there, which sent a hum of pleasure beneath Spitfire’s tail. “What have you learned so far?”
“Ahh... I didn’t know I’d be tested on this.”
“Consider it a pop quiz.”
Spitfire groaned, but Cheerilee leaned back waiting for an answer.
“Be firm, without being repetitive.”
The tongue was back, the tip of it drawing intricate shapes against Spitfire, and she fell gasping against the floor again, groaning hard whenever Cheerilee fluttered over just the right spots, which was so many of them.
“Ah... Every mare is different, so listen to responses.” She continued. Cheerilee made that pleased noise again, and the vibrations sent happy shudders rolling all the way up Spitfire’s spine. “Harder isn’t better, unless I ask really nicely?”
Cheerilee pressed harder, and one of Spitfire’s knees buckled, but Cheerilee held her rump up to her muzzle firmly, the surprisingly strong grip not letting her any slack. “Good. What else?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck...
She tried to buck her hips back into Cheerilee’s muzzle, but Cheerilee held her firm and swatted her rump hard for the attempt. Spitfire banged her head into the ground, whimpering, on the verge of tears. She’d been so close.
“D-don’t get harder! Keep doing same thing.” She grunted.
“Very good.” Cheerilee beamed, flicking her clit just once, a sharp flick, that had Spitfire ram her face into the floor, equal parts ecstasy and misery.
“Finish me! Please. Please, please, please.”
“Not yet.” Cheerilee was massaging her cutie marks, holding her hind legs up high and steady, but seemed to have found all the best spots just to avoid them, keeping Spitfire teetering without ever pushing her over. “What else have you learned?”
“I’m sorry for my disrespectful behaviour, Miss!” Spitfire would have howled if she’d had the breath for it, but her voice was coarse and her throat tight. “Please.”
“Good girl. You were paying attention, then.” Cheerilee coiled her tongue around her clit and twisted it, flicking the tip of her tongue around it like she was trying to spin a top. Her tongue snapped back, sweeping from the coiling swirl to a hard flick down over the center of it, sending static and lightning behind Spitfire’s eyes. She was beyond screaming or gasping, and slumped limply, but Cheerilee was holding her rump firm and still pressing.
Not harder. Not faster. Just maintaining a devastatingly even tempo.
She didn’t stop as Spitfire came, just maintained her even pace, occasionally letting her tongue slide in deep inside her, pressing the tip against the inside edge of her clit and drawing a direct line to the exposed nub again, as Spitfire lost control of herself from the neck down.
Just lightning and waves of pleasure, and growing more and more desperate and sensitive as Cheerilee pushed every last ounce of frustrating and denial and buildup out of her, and hammered wave after wave of rolling orgasm until Spitfire was sore and tender.
And Cheerilee didn’t stop until Spitfire collapsed in a panting , twitching heap, unable to hold herself up anymore.
“So!” Cheerilee sing-songed, rubbing the tip of her hoof and running circles with it around the muscles in Spitfire’s neck, and Spitfire started drooling lazily at the touch. “You’re going to talk to Rainbow Dash for me, then?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you’ll remember what I’ve taught you.”
“Mmhm.”
“Good.” Cheerilee beamed, getting up and stretching, rolling her head back and forth so that her own neck popped loudly, with a kind of satisfaction for how it was earned, “I’ll go get you a mop to clean up, then. You’ve left such a puddle on my nice, clean floors.”
“‘Kay.”
The Wonderbolts locker room was filled with steam from the showers. Spitfire was hanging her uniform back in her locker when she heard the rook’s croaky voice across from her, saying something to Soarin’. Her ears perked up.
“Yeah, so I’m just signing a sick leave for her so we can go out camping. It’s this totally awesome spot near the Everfree, right, so most ponies are too chicken to go out there-”
Spitfire rounded, closing her locker firm enough to cut the rookie off. She’d been practicing the Voice just for this. “Ms Dash. Are you discussing pulling a minor out of school to go camping?”
Rainbow looked confused. She’d straightened reflexively, back straight, neck up. “Ah, yeah, Spits-”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Yes, Captain.” Rainbow gulped. Chin up now. Soarin’ was giving her a look, too, squinting at her.
“Isn’t that what weekends and holidays are for, Ms Dash?”
“Well... yeah, but-”
“Is truancy the kind of behaviour a Wonderbolt is supposed to encourage?”
Dash was blushing now. “Ah, no, Captain.”
“You are a role model, Cadet. Act like it.”
“Y-yeah, yes Captain.”
“Am I understood, Ms Dash?”
“Yes, Captain!”
Spitfire smirked. “There’s a good girl, then.”
When she turned back to her own locker, Dash was trying to force her wings back down with her hooves, and Soarin’ had found a towel in his locker to wrap around his waist, even though he hadn’t hit the showers yet.
Cheerilee was a fluffing good teacher.
