"A strap-on?" Spitfire looked at the toy, the straps, and even the way it had a curved nub at the end that was clearly meant to supply "feedback" to the mare wearing it. "So what are we going to do?"

Soarin was ready for this moment. His heart sped up, and he ruffled his wings at his side before kneeling and then laying down on the floor before Spitfire. Spreading his wings out, he lay his head down so that his nose barely touched Spitfire's hoof. "I'll do anything my mistress commands."

Panic was the first thing that hit Spitfire. Her wings—two of the most disciplined pieces of such muscle and bone in all Equestria—shot into the air as if she were a young stallion seeing a mare turn around for the first time. She opened her mouth, but at the moment when she was meant to be making sounds nothing came out. She closed her mouth and fought past the surprise.

Soarin was on his belly before her. He was supplicating himself like a foal—no, like a pet. Spitfire had heard of such games, they'd played some of their own not two nights back, but this time it was her in control. Used to command, Spitfire had always treated her wingponies with the utmost respect due their station. It was only newbies that she really came down on.

"Damn it, newbie, how're you ever going to learn to fly in my Wonderbolts?!" Lifting the hoof Soarin had been practically kissing, Spitfire brought it down to rest on his head. She didn't put any pressure on him, she didn't need to. This was a different kind of power to what commanding the Wonderbolts actually was, but it was a game—pretend. "And what would such a weakling stallion do to join up?"

A shiver of bliss ran up Soarin's spine. For just a moment he luxuriated in the simple pleasure of letting Spitfire's hoof massage his head and rub his ears. Then he scooted backwards and stood up. "You'll have to find out tonight. We've got work to do."

Spitfire stared at Soarin's butt as he walked out of the bedroom. She started to bite back a curse but, being Spitfire, let it out anyway. "Buck you for leaving me turned on like this!"

"Yeah! Buck me tonight!" Soarin actually pranced through their little kitchenette. He already knew the one thing that would save his butt from the worst of Spitfire's wrath.

When Spitfire stormed into the kitchenette, she found a mug of coffee waiting. Reaching out with a wing, the coffee was in her grip and soon sliding down her throat. She glared at Soarin over the top of the edge of the mug, but rather than anger she only felt attraction.

"That was the hardest thing I've ever done, you know?" Soarin studied Spitfire's body while he spoke—size-wise, no pony in Equestria boasted as well-developed wings as the Captain of the Wonderbolts. "If you'd told me to stay, I probably would have."

"But we've got the newbies to see to. I don't suppose you caught up with Crash yesterday?" The coffee was hot as Tartarus, black as Sombra's mane, and sweet as Spitfire's stallion—just how she liked it. What caused her further interest in the topic, however, was that Soarin was now blushing up a storm. "You caught up with her."

"Y-Yeah. She and Thunderlane were—" Soarin choked off his words. He'd been so worked up over Spitfire, and getting everything ready for their fun, that he'd completely forgotten that Rainbow Dash had seen him—seen him watching her getting screwed.

"You caught them at it again? I'll give him good marks for stamina, but…" Spitfire trailed off as she saw Soarin's face blush. Almost forgetting the lifeblood of all creation (her coffee), Spitfire walked up to Soarin, stood over him, and pressed her mouth to his ear. "What'd you see?"

Soarin had no chance—not with Spitfire having so recently been so dominant, and doing so again. He spilled everything about seeing the couple playing bondage games again, but he left out that Rainbow Dash had seen him watching. "And that's it."

"Huh. Almost sounds like she set you up for that." Grabbing her coffee again, Spitfire took a drink. "Are you sure she didn't lead you on a chase for that exact encounter? Something smells fishy here."

"If—If you want, I'll talk to Crash about it. I'm not saying it was, but if it was a set up, she needs to be more careful about it." Deflection, Soarin knew, but he had to do something—this would also give him the chance to clean the air with Rainbow Dash. Then Soarin realized he had just committed to talking to the Wonderbolt with the biggest ego about why he was just staring at her while she was getting banged by her stallion.

Soarin hadn't been the most excited about seeing Rainbow Dash, but she hadn't said a word to him about their mutual experience. The first set of lessons were done for the morning, and he had time to talk to her privately at last—which is why they were both in Spitfire's office, while Spitfire was out doing some quality yelling.

"You watched," was the first thing Rainbow Dash said when the door closed. "You watched as he fucked me, while I struggled and couldn't move." She walked around Spitfire's desk and sat in the ultra-comfortable Captain's chair. Stroking her belly with a hoof, she looked at the stricken Commander.

"I…" Words wouldn't come to Soarin, not with such a blunt attack. "You didn't say anything!"

The accusation didn't faze Rainbow Dash at all. She looked across the desk at Soarin and smiled a little wider. "I like having ponies watch. You being there was a turn-on for me. I wasn't going to rat you out. Besides,"—Rainbow Dash lifted her back legs up and put her hooves on the desk—"I wasn't allowed to speak. I was just a pet."

"You've got a safe word." Soarin was grasping at straws. "You could have said it and told Thunderlane."

Rainbow Dash scoffed out loud. "It was fun for me not to. Why would I reduce how much fun I was having in my own place? Why didn't you leave?" When Soarin seemed to sputter, Rainbow cut him off. "You enjoyed something in there, I saw your eyes glaze over. Tell me what your fantasy was and I'll keep this quiet forever."

"Even from Thunderlane?" Soarin was defeated.

Rainbow Dash nodded. "Even from my master, when he is my master."

"I thought how amazing it would be to have Spitfire trussed up like you. Wait!" Soarin had to lift his voice to cut Rainbow Dash's scoff short. "But I also want her to have me bound up like that."

"Is that everything?" Smirking, Rainbow Dash leaned back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling. I've gotta get me one of these chairs, she thought.

Soarin was wrung out, done for. "Yes!"

"No it's not. When you were done watching Thunderlane fuck me like an animal, you went to a sex-toy shop. Spicy didn't tell me your name—he didn't know it—but he described your cutie mark." Uncrossing her legs on the table, Rainbow Dash flashed Soarin a generous look at her ass and vulva before crossing them again. "And he mentioned that you got a special something for mares."

Dropping to the floor as Rainbow Dash said the last sentence, Soarin put his forelegs over the top of his head in panic. He couldn't say a word, and now he couldn't get the image of his mistress out of his head.

"Stand up, Soarin." Rainbow Dash got off the chair and walked around the table. "I'm here to help you. I get what you're feeling. You should know that. But I remember my first few times at this and I realize it only went so great because I had somepony who knew what they were doing helping." She reached her hoof out to Soarin. "Do you want some help?"

Soarin pulled his forehooves away from his head and looked up. It wasn't the kinky Rainbow Dash that he saw, nor even the hard-as-nails Wonderbolt, but a friend who offered help. "Y-Yeah."

Spitfire pushed the door open and slipped into the apartment she shared with Soarin. She'd half expected to see Soarin himself waiting for her, but the building was quiet. Walking to the kitchen table, Spitfire noticed two notes on the flat surface that caused her left eyebrow to rise.

Open First

Mistress, your pet is waiting in your bedroom. Please be gentle with me.

Open Second

This isn't your pet writing, this is the pony that has bound him up. The first thing you must know is that there are no silly safe words for you to use; a simple no will be fine. While you are reading this, I am leaving the room through the window. The straps are easy to undo, I'm sure you could figure it out.

Both Spitfire's eyebrows were skirting her hairline now. She reread the second note carefully, then put it down and headed to her bedroom. The light was low, and Spitfire could see a shape on the bed. As her eyes adjusted, Spitfire saw Soarin had both wings and all four legs bound, and way laying on his belly in the middle of the bed. Something was hooked around his tail, and it was pulled to one side.

"Soarin?" Spitfire's eyes strayed from her partner to the big, golden strap-on laying beside him. "Are you okay like that?"

Soarin's world was dark. The blindfold over his eyes ensured that all he knew was that Rainbow Dash was gone and Spitfire was in the room. A smile spread over his lips. "Yes, Mistress."

Whatever Spitfire had been expecting of Soarin, this wasn't it. The vibrant Commander of the Wonderbolts was strapped up and bound like—well—Spitfire had never seen anything bound up this tight. She approached the bed. "I take it your other cadets thought this would help you get better marks? Is that it?"

The sharp edge in Spitfire's voice made Soarin squirm in his bindings. He nodded his head twice. "Y-Yes, Mistress Captain. I just want to be able to fly in your Wond—"

Laying on the other side of Soarin was a set of other toys. Spitfire had grabbed up the crop and brought it across Soarin's rump sharply. "You don't get to say Wonderbolt until I decide you're ready. If you're here, cadet, you want to be tested."

"Yes, ma'am!" Soarin's voice naturally rose into an almost panic. When he had been a cadet, there had been a drill instructor who had been rough on all of them. "Please, ma'am. I want to pass your test!"

Spitfire's eyes came down to Soarin's rump. His anus wasn't just plump and ready, she could see a clear fluid smeared around it. He'd been lubed up and everything, and it made Spitfire positively randy just thinking that somepony had prepared him in this way.

Soarin heard the movement of the tack beside him. Spitfire had picked up the strap-on. He almost vibrated in anticipation. Completely at his lover's mercy—he was ready for her. "Please?"

Getting the slick toy buckled on was one thing. Feeling the strap-on nub pressed against her own cleft was completely different. The big rubber toy delivered every motion through its length and down to her own sex. She lifted a foreleg and pressed it firmly against the small of Soarin's back. "Here comes the first problem, cadet."

The feeling, earlier, of Rainbow Dash's hoof massaging and working the lube into his arse had been a little odd, but Soarin had agreed that she got to call the shots on presentation. Now he was immensely thankful to his friend for taking the time to make him as slick as possible—Spitfire pushed herself into him.

Opening his mouth and moaning out his appreciation, Soarin tried not to clench around the toy as it worked deeper. The further he was impaled on the shaft, the further up his back Spitfire had to climb. Each jerking motion of her bracing and pushing urged new tones of whimper from Soarin, until eventually she pressed her groin to his rump.

Each twitch of Soarin's muscles translated as a stroke against Spitfire's nethers. She pressed herself down on her bound lover, pressed herself inward, and nibbled on one of his ears for a few moments. When she felt Soarin's muscles slow down in their twitches, she let go of his ear. "Are you ready for your test, cadet?"

Blind, Soarin's mind built images and scenarios for him and Spitfire to be in, but all of them had one thing in common: Spitfire was on top of him and stuffing his rump to capacity. He nodded his head, but when that failed to get a response, Soarin managed to say, "Yes, Mistress."

Spitfire's muscles weren't built for this particular motion, but she wasn't that different from a stallion in build. Pulling her hips backward, she braced one hoof on the floor and shoved back into Soarin. The slide against her labia (caused by pulling out) had been delicious, but when she shoved her hips forward, the toy pressed inside her and squeezed at her clitoral hood.

Stars flashed in Spitfire's vision, but her body knew what it wanted. The action wasn't completely natural to her, but where there's a will there's a way.

Soarin melted under the stroking motions of the shaft inside him. Each time it pushed in he felt it graze his prostate and burn a fire of sensation along his rectum. The true lament for Soarin was when Spitfire pulled back—he felt empty and needy, and whined until she bucked into him again.

Spitfire's own voice joined Soarin's. Each thrust worked the toy into her and him, until both of them were rocking to a thunderous rhythm. But Spitfire couldn't stop her muscular, athletic body from speeding up. She wanted more, needed more. Leaning forward and using her wings to propel each thrust, Spitfire hammered Soarin's body with all her force.

Reaching the point where he would normally climax, Soarin whimpered. Before she'd left, Rainbow Dash had attached something over his shaft, and it had grown tighter as his length tried to swell. Not painful, the locked device kept him from achieving an erection—but not a climax. The pressure in his rear was growing less pleasurable and more uncomfortable, but he could hear plainly how much Spitfire was enjoying herself.

Simultaneous orgasms were not to be. Spitfire still had some runway left while Soarin squirmed and struggled in his bonds under her. She kept on plowing him, riding her stallion until her own pleasure started to peak. Clenching her teeth, Spitfire was reduced to small, uncoordinated thrusts that only served to shove her deeper into an abyss of pleasure.

Used to having orgasms at different times, Soarin's only change from the norm was that he'd gotten off first and Spitfire had been the one still pounding away. He felt bound still, the thing around his shaft, not letting loose for a moment. The pleasure and satisfaction he could hear in each pant of Spitfire's breath made up for the uncomfortable sensations. He actually winced when she twitched her hips.

"It's—" Spitfire had to pant for words. She steeled herself and opened her mouth to try again. "You're not a Wonderbolt yet, newbie!" Spitfire expected a response from her stallion, something in character, but he didn't say a word.

"Soarin? What's wrong?" Despite her arousal, despite her excitement, Spitfire's amour turned to concern.

Soarin felt the toy pulling out, coming free of him. In the heat of the moment it had been everything he'd ever wanted, but now it just felt awkward. "It's nothing. You have—" He was cut off when Spitfire rolled him over and started unbuckling straps. "Spitfire?"

"You're not having fun with this, are you?" With her decision made, Spitfire had set her course on getting her lover out of the bondage he was in. She got his wings free, then his hooves two at a time, and then his tail.

Soarin, his shaft still locked up in the small cage that Rainbow Dash had fitted, looked up at Spitfire. "It—I don't know. It felt kinda okay, but then—then it wasn't really."

Looking at the locked cage—soaked in Soarin's semen—Spitfire had to make a quick decision and dropped on the bed beside him. Wrapping Soarin in her legs and wings, Spitfire hugged him to her. "I'm sorry, Soarin."

Well aware of his shaft still locked up, Soarin snuggled back with Spitfire. Of course the big toy was pressed between them, still attached to Spitfire by its straps, but he found that while he wasn't really into being pegged by Spitfire, he liked the idea of her wearing it—which is exactly what he told her. "I like how you look with it—how I imagine you looking with it—but I don't want that in me."

"That's alright, Soarin. We'll figure out what parts of this we like, and do those. But tell me next time." Spitfire angled her hips a little, pressing the toy against Soarin's belly a little firmer. When she heard him make a happy little sigh, she took note of it.

Soarin tried to say something, but the feel of Spitfire pressing the toy against him turned him on more than all the sex they'd had. "That feels good."

Her mind racing, Spitfire asked, "Scale of one to ten?"

"About a seven or eight." The numbers seemed right for it. "I don't get why it didn't feel better. You don't complain about anal s—"

"Shh. I don't complain about it because I love feeling you inside me. We're not the same pony, Soarin. I like that you like different things." Spitfire didn't know exactly when he'd fallen asleep, but cuddling Soarin seemed like a good way for herself to pass out too.

Author's Note

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