Unfastening the straps one by one, Soarin stroked Windy's back with a wing while he worked. Wing covers, body-straps, tail-adjuster, and finally the bridle and gag were removed. He brought his hoof all the way up to her mane and ruffled it.

The smell of Soarin's musk grew stronger. Windy washed as frequently as any other pony, but that smell had started to linger. Arching her back, Windy Whistles shivered and stretched, then finally jumped to her hooves.

Something inside Soarin loved watching Windy Whistles leave her role as Spitfire and his subservient. It was a recreation process, a rebirth of the mare. "How's Bow doing?"

"You always ask about him." Windy tried to focus on pulling her short tail down, but the straps had been holding her dock up so long she was fighting training. When Soarin didn't reply, she turned to give him a significant look.

Soarin slumped a little. "I want to make sure you're—both of you—are okay with this. I'd hate to think we ruined your marriage." A hoof appeared under Soarin's chin and forcefully tilted his head back up.

"We're adults, Soarin. Our marriage is not your worry—though it's cute that you feel that way. Do you want the truth?" Windy fluffed her wings and turned around a few times, getting used to her freedom. When she saw Soarin nod, she smiled. "Your smell drives him wild. We've had the best sex in years thanks to this."

"He likes having another stallion mark his mare?" Soarin was more intrigued now than protective of Windy.

"Likes it and gets off on it. You'd have to ask him yourself to find out exactly what it is that does it for him. We talk, like I've heard you and Spitfire talk." Windy didn't care if it was bad form to bring up things said around her while in character, this was serious. "Don't stop doing that."

Soarin made his way into the shower, and was surprised Windy followed him. Unlike with Spitfire, the shared bathing was just platonic—they wordlessly helped each other clean off and get ready for the day.

Fully dried off, Windy felt ready to face the day and turned to give Soarin a little peck on the cheek. "Same time next week?"

Leaning a little closer to Windy Whistles, Soarin pressed his nose to her mane and inhaled. The shower had reduced his scent, but it was still there. A shiver of possessive delight rolled through him. "Y-Yeah."

Windy Whistles felt reluctant to leave. Soarin was an amazing stallion, and a nice one, but his role-played ownership of her made Windy's legs wobble sometimes. She liked that, but they weren't playing. "Goodbye, Soarin."

"Sorry, that just— I guess I might know just a little of what Bow's motivations are. Until next week——" Soarin let out a wistful sigh. Leaving the apartment (attached to Spitfire and his own office), Soarin barely noticed that Windy Whistles left just after him.

Two pairs of eyes noticed Windy Whistles leaving Soarin and Spitfire's home. "What the heck is Mom doin' here?" Rainbow Dash asked. If she weren't about as heavy as ten ponies and as wide as them too, in her estimation, Rainbow Dash might have flown after her mom to ask.

"I've got a few ideas. Want to hear 'em?" Spitfire, in her full dress uniform, was an impressive sight. She turned her head back to the cadets flying above them. "Lift those legs! What are you doing, cadet?!"

"Don't tell me she's going to sign up? My mom's an awesome flier, but I don't know if her wings are that good." Lifting a back leg, Rainbow Dash stretched the limb to hide the fact she felt her foal deliver a perfect kick to her bladder.

Spitfire didn't hold back her snort. "Your mom's wings are better than you think. Cut her some slack, maybe she was applying to be your personal fan-club president?" Reaching a hoof up, Spitfire adjusted her Neighviator sunglasses and grinned a little at her gag. "Or maybe she just wants permission to see her little filly waddle around?"

"I. Don't. Waddle!" Rainbow Dash hated the accusation because it was true. Her body was slim and aerodynamic, but those proportions were not the most conductive to movement when pregnant. She didn't want to look at Spitfire's grin, but did anyway. "I'm so over being pregnant. I want to fly again."

"You were flying earlier."

"That wasn't— Move those wings, newbie!" Rainbow Dash's lungs were not impeded by her pregnancy at all. She lowered her voice before talking to Spitfire again. "That wasn't flying and you know it. I mean flying, fast and hard, owning the sky. That kind of flying."

Spitfire changed the topic to distract her friend from complaining—neither of them actually liked to hear Rainbow whine. "Speaking of hitting the skies, you remember how I told you we picked up a third?"

"You said something about it. Sorry I haven't been keeping track of you two much lately, I kinda figured you knew how to handle things now." Despite her tone (which was one of mild disinterest), Rainbow Dash was interested about her captain and commander's love-life. She found it curious to think of ponies who go both ways, dominance wise.

"You know Spicy Hot? He hooked us up with a cute mare that just wanted to be on the bottom of everything. It's amazing how into our fetishes she is, when we aren't even into them toge— GET THOSE WINGS MOVING! YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME?!" Despite how good Spitfire judged Rainbow Dash's shouting, it was no match for her own. "She fits with us like a junior wingpony."

"It's like that with me and Fluttershy. I'm not into mares, not really, but we've known each other so long that being together is just— It feels right."

Both mares shared a smile.

Another week had passed. Rainbow Dash's belly looked fit to burst, and Spitfire was doing make-work in her office. Stamping requisitions that Soarin could have done, and approving training aids Rainbow Dash had ordered for the recruits.

A knock came at Spitfire's door and without a thought she called: "Come in."

Bow Hothoof opened the door and walked into Commander Spitfire's office. He felt a little intimidated by Spitfire, particularly since he knew she was one of his wife's new friends.

"Not the member of your family I expected to see, Bow, but you're welcome. What can I help you with?" Spitfire wasn't lying. She'd expected Windy Whistles to march through her door wearing the collar they'd asked her to wear over. Bow Hothoof was a surprise.

"It's about Windy." Bow walked up to the desk and took a seat.

Spitfire's blood ran cold. Windy Whistles fit to her and Soarin's little dynamic like she was made for it. "What's wrong? I thought you were okay with us—err—doing things."

"I'm a pretty honest stallion, commander, so let's call it what it is: extra-marital relations. You and Soarin have her so wired when she comes home she is buzzing around the house. Our relationship is better than it has ever been, and the sex is in the stratosphere," Bow said.

Now confusion reigned in Spitfire's head. Everything Bow had said led her to believe he was completely fine with how things were. "So why are you here?"

Bow felt his nervousness rising. He didn't want to mess this up, but he also wanted it more than anything. Turning his head to the side, he retrieved the devices he'd brought with him and set it on Spitfire's desk.

Panic rushed through Spitfire. "Why did you put a camera on my desk?" Her words approached coldness, and then embraced it. Her mind had jumped to just one conclusion: blackmail.

"I-If you don't want to take pictures of her, that's fine!" Bow jumped to his hooves and grabbed his camera. "I'llbegoingnow!"

The words connected dots and destroyed at least one line of thinking in Spitfire's head. She stared in surprise as Bow made it all the way to the door. Spitfire was faster than Bow, however. Realizing she had judged everything wrong, Spitfire spread her wings and kicked out of her chair at the same time.

Bow grabbed the door handle and tried to turn it. He wasn't a small stallion, and had spent most of his life at the top of tall buildings carrying heavy loads, but when a quartet of golden-yellow feathers wrapped around his hoof, Bow couldn't move—mostly out of fear. "I-I-I'm sorry!"

"Stop. Bow, just stop." When her request was ignored by the babbling stallion, Spitfire lifted her voice to full parade ground. "Stop right there!"

Staring in fear, Bow didn't dare move, speak, or even think.

"I thought you were trying to blackmail me. Relax, I'm sorry." Spitfire reached her free wing out and took the camera from Bow's grip. You want photos of your wife?"

Nodding very slowly, Bow Hothoof held his breath. He watched as Spitfire turned the camera over a few times. "Y-Y-Yes please, ma'am."

"Back in your seat, 'cadet'." Spitfire turned and walked back to her desk trailing Bow behind her. Once they were both seated again, she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, Bow, for doing that. I thought you were here to do something below you. How can I make it up to you?"

With his pulse dropping somewhere below quadruple digits, Bow Hothoof managed to piece together what had happened, what had been thought, and what Spitfire was saying. "That,"—Bow pointed at the camera—"can take single and motion pictures. I'd like— I want some nice visuals of how Soarin treats Windy. I need to see how he marks her. I need—" Bow was getting worked up and had to bite down on his words.

Able to see that Bow's strained words weren't because of anger (as was evident by his growing erection), Spitfire held out a hoof to him. "On one condition."

Anything, Bow almost said. He held his mouth tightly closed and hoped his need wasn't too obvious.

"You tell me what you want to see done to her. I can't promise my stallion will do it, he gets a little willful when he has his little plaything with him, but I can make suggestions." Spitfire could see strain in Bow's face. She could watch a drop of sweat roll through his fur from his forehead to the tip of his nose. "Do we have a deal?"

Bow had no idea how he restrained himself from doing making a mess of Spitfire's office (and particularly her floor). He managed to nod his head once and hold out one hoof for a pen.

"Windy's told you about the things we use on her? Is there anything else you'd like to see? Maybe something you know is in Spicy Hot's shop?" Spitfire passed over a pen and a scrap of paper.

Shaking, Bow started writing his fantasies out. Everything he had convinced himself he always wanted to see, he wrote. The page was almost full by the time he added what he wanted to see Windy wearing more than anything. He slid the sheet over to Spitfire.

"Imaginative, and a good start. Okay, I'll do this. I want you to do another thing for me." Lifting her head from the expansive list, Spitfire laid her eyes directly on Bow's. "Start a new list, have it done by next week."

"Th-Thank y—"

"DISMISSED!" Spitfire's yell almost worked like a teleportation spell with cadets, and it seemed to have the same effect on Bow Hothoof. With the door barely closed behind the fleeing, rock-hard stallion, Spitfire cast her eyes back to the sheet. "I need to go shopping."

"Welcome to Cloudsdale Cloppers. You proffer, we stoff 'er." Spicy Hot turned to see Commander Spitfire walking into his little shop. "Oh captain! My captain!" He turned sideways and flopped himself at her.

Spitfire's reactions were as sharp as when she'd stopped Bow Hothoof from evacuating her office—she caught Spicy with her wings and just as suddenly was tangled in his.

"We have to stop meeting like this, my dear," Spicy said as he rubbed his cheek against Spitfire's side.

The joke was a running one that Spitfire had witnessed many times. She tried not to smile as she shoved the bat off her. "I know you only love me for my bits, Spicy. Get, off!"

"Commander Spitfire, you'd need a crop and a penis to do that." Straightening up, Spicy Hot ran one wing down Spitfire's saddle bag. "Parting is such sweet sorrow. But, fear not, you will be mine."

Spitfire ignored the screeching giggles that amounted to laughter for bat ponies. "I have some things I need, or more specifically I have one thing I need, and a list of ideas I need things for."

Spicy's clever wing claw lanced out and claimed the list. Pulling it close, his happy expression grew to legendary proportions. "Marry me?"

"I haven't even married Soarin yet, and you want me to take on a subby little bat that doesn't know when it's time to stop before somepony puts a collar on him?!" By the end of her shout—which felt exceptionally good to finally use on Spicy—Spitfire realized she had made a grave error.

"Mistress Spitfire, please command your subby little bat what it is she wishes of him." Spicy batted his eyelashes at Spitfire in a better display of femininity than the commander was capable of. He waited a moment for surprise to register on Spitfire's face before he booped her. "Too late. Now I'm just going to flirt with you shamelessly and steal your stallion into a life of mareless sin."

"Just get me the hood, to start with." Despite the bat being irreverent in the extreme, Spitfire liked his energy—that he also had all the best toys made her visits to his shop a certainty.

Author's Note

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Awesome ponies who are already helping to keep me in keyboards and rum:
A.P.O.N.I.
Boulder
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