A little shiver passed through Windy as she stepped into Spitfire's office. As the door closed behind her, she could have sworn she heard her daughter's voice, and then Bow's.

"Eyes front, Pet." Soarin sat behind Spitfire's desk, in Spitfire's chair, and only by Spitfire's affection was he not going to get chewed out for it. "I have some paperwork to finish before Commander Spitfire returns with the last of tonight's supplies. Be a good filly and get under the desk."

Windy Whistles felt the worries and cares of being a mother and wife—of being a pony with her own thoughts—slough away like dirt in a shower. She felt cleansed, safe, cared for. Bobbing her head, she pranced forward and got onto her belly. Crawling, she found there wasn't much room under the desk—but there was enough for her.

Licking her lips, Windy leaned forward and found Soarin still soft—completely tucked in his sheath. This wouldn't do at all, Windy thought. Nuzzling and licking at his soft sheath, Windy Whistles started to lick and warm to her task.

It was a game of sorts. Soarin struggled to keep his focus while Windy did an excellent job of teasing his shaft free from its home. The moment the flared tip of his shaft was out, it was trapped in Windy's silken mouth. Soarin sorted the papers needing Spitfire's signature to one pile, and signed off on those that only needed his. Shifting his hips as he grew into Windy's mouth, he couldn't keep a happy little groan from breaking free of his throat.

The noise her master made sent happy sparks of submissive delight through Windy. Knowing that she had made him happy enough that he made that kind of sound, was a gift in and of itself. She liked that he wasn't big, it meant she could take all of him orally, and focus on his pleasure rather than her survival. A fact she began to put into practice.

Soarin, of course, had never had the problem of a mare not being able to take all of him. He took for granted that Windy—his pet—was able to press her nose firmly against his sheath while he was fully erect. "I'm almost done, Pet. Are you?" He referred to both the paperwork and his physical state.

Redoubling her efforts, Windy Whistles closed her eyes and focused entirely on sensation—giving sensation. Her forehooves gently cupped Soarin's balls, slowly rubbing them while she suckled and licked along his whole length. Leaning back, she drew her mouth almost free before shoving back down. Soarin's whole body jerked against her. She felt him buck in surprise at her motion, so she repeated it.

It was just like Soarin was fucking a mare, only no mare he'd been with had a prehensile tentacle in their vagina that seemed intent on coiling around him tighter with each thrust. The door to the room opened, and Spitfire looked right at Soarin as he climaxed.

Windy Whistles was a greedy submissive. When her master unloaded, she wanted it all. She swallowed and took as much of Soarin's seed as she could with big gulps, but a little inevitably leaked around the corner of her mouth.

"Started without me?" Spitfire made sure the door was closed behind her and walked up to the desk. It served to give Soarin a chance to recover (she knew what the face he'd just pulled meant), and for her to work out exactly what was going on.

Pushing with his forehooves, Soarin shoved himself back from the desk. His training, and efforts to please not just Spitfire but Windy Whistles, had left his shaft ready to go again at a moment's notice. That he was in the company of two amazingly sexy mares had nothing to do with it, or so his ego claimed. "Warming her up. Your turn."

Windy Whistles licked Soarin's issue from around her lips, but it had dripped down her neck and even matted the fur on her nose. She made no move to clean up any of the extra mess, quite content to let it enhance the smell of stallion under the desk. When a golden pair of legs came into view, and half a torso that accompanied them, Windy leaned forward and pressed her messy snout between her mistress' thighs.

Spitfire had to angle her body to give Windy access to her vulva, and though it wasn't completely comfortable, the benefits were worth it. The moment the other mare's tongue ran along her slit, Spitfire was able to relax properly. "Fair point on the warming up. What work do I have to finish up?"

As she spoke, Spitfire started assembling the first item for their night of fun. Carefully holding the applicator in one hand, she pressed the ear tag into the indent on it.

Soarin had the video camera out, and was doing his best to capture Spitfire as she worked. The magic device was silent in the grip of his wings, and it captured every twitch and spasm of Spitfire's body while Windy worked away under the desk.

As she lapped and nuzzled into Spitfire's body, Windy Whistles rubbed the mare's thighs with her wings—massaging them with her feathers. She kept her eyes open for Spitfire, needing her sight to focus on the prize. Windy knew her mistress was unbelievably hard to bring to orgasm quickly, so she settled in for the long haul.

With the camera training on Spitfire, Soarin could see his lover getting more and more turned on. "How's the paperwork going?"

The truth was, Spitfire's lust was rising rapidly. Her pet had grown familiar, and further, accomplished at revving Spitfire's engine. "The usual. Everypony wants something from the Wonderbolts. I—" Spitfire snapped her mouth closed, but pulled it into a grin. "I see we got invites from Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance for next month, on the same day."

Leaning over the desk, ignoring the toys that were arrayed before Spitfire, Soarin focused the camera on Spitfire's face. "And how are you feeling? Relaxed?"

Gritting her teeth, Spitfire rode the edge between plateau and orgasm for as long as it took Windy Whistles to get a mouthful of air. "Buuuuuuuck…" Her wings and hooves clamped to the desk, and Spitfire held back from crushing Windy's head between her thighs only barely. The licking and nuzzling didn't stop, and Spitfire found herself pushed along with the extended orgasm.

Her mistress wasn't a "gusher", but Spitfire wasn't exactly a dry mare either. Windy wore the fruits of her labor on her muzzle, and was happily pushing her mistress through a long orgasm when a wing wrapped something around her neck, clicked what was obviously a collar closed, then used it to pull her out of her spot. "Mistress?"

Spitfire took a firm hold of Windy's chin. She turned her pet so that she faced the camera—to show off her stained muzzle. "Say hello, Pet."

Staring at the camera, Windy's mind raced. She looked at Soarin, only to get a wink from him. "Wh-Who is this for?" She could see part of her reflection in the lens—her face a mess of Soarin and Spitfire's making—and a small idea of what it was for crept into her head.

"Your handler wanted to see what his dirty little filly got up to. We're documenting that," Spitfire said.

A thrill ran through Windy, and she started to turn her head to Spitfire when something caught her ear. A sharp poke, a fraction of a second of startled pain, and she could feel a little weight on her ear. She flicked it furiously.

"Had to tag you, sorry. Can't have our pet getting loose and running amok." Spitfire looked into Windy's eyes and could only see excitement in them. "Looks like your handler was right. I wonder if we should tag you somewhere else, somewhere for him to discover?"

A spring wound tighter inside Windy Whistles. She'd fantasized about having a piercing before, specifically an ownership tag, but she'd never done it—never felt properly owned. Looked into Spitfire's hard eyes, she nodded and wagged her tail excitedly.

"Let's get her dressed. This should be a fun night," Soarin said.

"Night? Where's that contract with her handler?" Rifling around the papers on her desk, Spitfire delayed pulling out the one Bow had signed, despite knowing exactly where it was. "Says here we have her for a week."

Windy Whistle's spine tingled all the way from her dock to her neck. They'd only ever played for a day at a time before, it was their deal—it was Bow's deal. She took a deep breath of the combined musk around her face and stomped her right hoof on the floor. "What's this about?"

Spitfire breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Finally got you out of that. It's just what we said. Bow wants us to play with you for a week. I'm not sure we can really be that full-on every day, though. Do you want to set a limit?"

Month, year, forever… Windy Whistles thought. She ached to tell them to just lock her up and keep her, but there was too much love in her heart for Bow. "A w-week. If Bow comes and—"

"If your husband comes, and asks, the game is over. If you tell us it is, the game is over. We're happy to keep you for that long, but only if you want to be kept." Soarin could see raw desire in Windy's eyes. "Besides, Bow will have quite a few memories of your time here."

It was a guilty fantasy of Windy's—one she'd shared privately with Bow—and now she was going to live it in a safe environment. "Yes, Mistress." She barely got the words out when the world went dark. Something tight came over her head, and she was acutely aware that Soarin had circled around behind her while she'd been focused on Spitfire.

Light returned via a pair of holes for her eyes, and as the hood pulled into place, Windy realized that it had been put on over the top of the mess her face had been in. A thrill of excitement ran through her—it was the first time she'd been marked by Spitfire.

Pulling the custom-made mask on tight, Soarin fastened it to the collar Spitfire'd put on Windy earlier. "This will come off once a day for washing. You will be used, and it will be put back on." His words were uncompromising, though it was easy to dominate when your submissive looked so happy about her situation.

"That was part of the deal with your handler. He wants my musk on you too." Spitfire reached a hoof out and ran it down Windy's snout, from between her eyes to her nose. "Gotta say, I'm not against it. I don't like being marked, but this? This I can do." She leaned down and inhaled, smelling rubber, Soarin, and her own spice.

Almost fainting, Windy Whistles smiled dreamily up at Spitfire. Serving her mistress in this new way made her giddy as a mare on her first date. When she opened her mouth to confirm her happiness, something pushed between her lips. Widening her eyes, Windy realized the hood had a ring gag in the end of it that even now was pulling back tighter, seating itself in her mouth.

"Good girl, part those teeth," Soarin said. "A little wider, there!"

When the gag was between her teeth, it felt like the thing swelled in her mouth. Her jaw was forced to open while the hood offered resistance. The result was that Windy's jaws were held open wide enough to take a stallion, with her lips straining to seal up in front of them.

A week like this would become unbearable, though there was a certain part of it that had Windy accepting it—that she could be used any time. She looked around just as Soarin pulled a bridle over the hood. As he was fastening it and cinching it tight, Windy noticed that there were blinkers on each side of her eyes. She no longer had peripheral vision.

Soarin finished fastening the bridle to the locked collar. "We've got different gags to go with this. Today it's the ring. Tomorrow I think we might just use an inflatable one. Stuff your mouth full and seal it up. Your food is my cum, Spitfire's lube, or whatever we put in your bowl. Not that eating out of a bowl will be easy with that gag in. You got that, pet?"

Windy Whistles nodded vigorously and wagged her tail. Under her, she was leaving a damp patch on the floor with how wet she was getting—and they'd only just finished putting on her headgear!

Author's Note

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