Chapters Spitfire was doing her favorite thing, and about to do her third favorite thing—flying and shouting, respectively. Flying so high that nopony standing on the field attached to Cloudsdale could hope to see her, Spitfire eyed her target.
Earlier, Spitfire had arranged with Soarin to position the newbies at the end of the practice field, and Soarin would be standing just to the left of the last marking on the strip. The colorful ponies below were hard to make out, but that high-contrast marking was perfect to target.
Spitfire didn't just tuck her wings—that's how a novice would dive—she leaned forward and started flapping to build speed faster than mere gravity could bestow.
Stretched out in a dive, Spitfire had to pull her wings in at last, folding all but the outermost primaries at the tips of her wings. Like a plummeting hawk, she controlled the last of her descent with tiny movements until, with a snap, she spread her wings and hit the stripe like a sledgehammer.
A dozen gasps went up as Spitfire made her entrance, but she was glad to see Soarin showed not the slightest flicker of surprise—making her arrival seem anything but normal would have ruined the effect, after all. "Report, Commander Soarin. What are you doing with this bunch of pansies on my practice field?"
"Captain Spitfire," Soarin said, betraying none of his admiration for the amazing crash-dive Spitfire had performed. "I regret to inform you that we have over twenty applicants for the Wonderbolts Academy this year."
"Over twenty?" Waiting for a nod from Soarin, Spitfire let out a groan. "Well, send them all home. I doubt any of them are Wonderbolt material." She snapped her head around to glare from face to shocked face. "Besides, we don't have a position in the Wonderbolts opening up."
A collective gasp went up from the recruits at Spitfire's proclamation, and from the way their heads snapped around, she knew the next step of their initiation had arrived.
"Captain Spitfire! Senior Airpony Rainbow Crash , reporting for duty." Rainbow Dash had been ordered to take things easy, which was why she didn't try to show-up Spitfire. She walked across the practice field toward the senior Wonderbolts, waiting for Spitfire to look at her.
Spitfire didn't turn to Rainbow Dash right away, instead focusing her gaze across the potential recruits. "What is it, Crash?"
"Requesting light duties, Captain." Almost splitting her face with an expectant grin, Rainbow Dash watched Soarin turn around first. The look in his eyes as he spotted her was worth every moment of planning with Thunderlane to make this a surprise.
Judging the moment right, Spitfire turned to face Rainbow Dash, and was thankful her expression was hidden from the recruits. Rainbow Dash had a small frame, which made the spread of her belly—further back than could be explained by a good meal—more pronounced than it should. After five seconds she snapped her mouth closed, and curled her lips into a smile. "Congratulations, Senior Airpony Rainbow Dash."
Rainbow Dash's pride had overtaken embarrassment when her pregnant state had started to become too obvious for ponies to miss. "Thanks, ma'am!" She proceeded to look over Spitfire's shoulder at the group of excited ponies. "Is this all you got for me?"
Spitfire rolled her eyes—still positioned so the new recruits couldn't see. She was about to say something, when she saw Rainbow Dash opening her mouth. It wasn't often Spitfire gave up the chance to get some good shouting in, but she trusted Rainbow Dash to give her an opportunity.
Leaning in, Rainbow Dash cupped one hoof up and said—plenty loud enough for the cadets to hear— "Can they actually fly?"
Turning around to face the new hopeful pegasi, Spitfire set her throat in preparation. "Well?! Can you fly?!"
"Yeah!" many enthusiastic voices replied.
Soarin stomped forward, stopping only inches before walking all over the first pegasus of the group. "The first and last word out of your traps, to the Captain, is ma'am. Now, try again!" When all the recruits turned toward him, Soarin stepped back. "Not to me! To the Captain!"
"Ma'am! Yes, ma'am!" The voices still lacked some conviction.
"I want to see you all flying patterns. Groups of three. Pick two wingponies and GO!" Spitfire smiled a little as the assembly broke up and took to the air. She turned to Rainbow Dash and Spitfire held out her favorite clipboard. "You can take things from here?"
"Yell lots, pick out the ones who can't hack it, yell lots, take a note of anypony who can actually fly, and yell lots? Yeah, I think I got this." Rolling her eyes, Rainbow Dash turned away from Spitfire, only to see two stallions showboating for the mare in their wing. "Cut the games, you two, I wanna see how fast you can go!"
Spitfire watched Rainbow Dash stomp off after another pegasus who had landed. "Soarin?"
"Yeah, Captain?" Soarin was a little surprised by the turn of events, too. No wonder, he mused, Thunderlane asked for some lighter duties for her.
"Pregnant mares are scary." Shaking her head, Spitfire watched as Rainbow Dash shouted vehemently at the recruit, and could well imagine what poor excuse was given to elicit the reaction. "Let's get into that paperwork."
Together, Soarin and Spitfire took to the air and flew up to the officer's area of the Academy, and headed into Spitfire's office.
"Hold on," Soarin said, just as they both got inside.
Spitfire turned to see what was the matter, and raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "What's the—"
Moving rapidly, Soarin walked up to Spitfire and took her ring wing in his grip. Spitfire didn't resist his effort to stretch the limb, and he dove his head into the mass of feathers and caught the errant secondary feather.
Letting out a sigh, Spitfire felt her body tremble a moment as Soarin preened her wing. The gentle tug of feathers, straightening the one her dive had kinked, drew the weight of dealing with paperwork away. Standing still, she felt the errant feather end up being plucked with a short, decisive tug. "It wasn't salvageable?"
Soarin walked to the trash bin and spat the feather out into it. "You bent it too far. Would have just thrown off your flying. I noticed you favoring the other wing on the way up here."
Fluffing her wings, and then folding them down tightly, Spitfire walked around her desk and lifted two folders off the pile that was waiting. "Oh? I thought your eyes were on something else?" She tossed one folder across the desk to Soarin.
Reviewing the next batch of applicants took the rest of the morning, lunch, and into early afternoon. Spitfire and Soarin were just reviewing the last two when Rainbow Dash knocked sharply on the door and entered.
"Okay. We've got about four good fliers in the lot. At least three that are flat-out not worth the trouble they'll cause, and one stand-out flier." She walked across the room and set the clipboard on Spitfire's desk.
"Yeah, that's about what we got from their applications. Thanks for that, Crash." Spitfire took the clipboard and started looking through it. "Got any plans for the afternoon?"
"Nah. Thunder's taking me to a new place in Canterlot for dinner, but figured I might do a little light flying, keep my wings from losing their mojo." To show off her wings, Rainbow Dash spread them and gave them the lightest of flaps—not even enough to rustle the paperwork.
Soarin busied himself with the last of the paperwork, not trusting his eyes not to wander. But, of course, just thinking about not looking at Rainbow Dash's pregnant belly made him remember seeing it. Catch twenty-two.
Not even noticing the conversation, or Rainbow Dash's departure, Soarin was startled out of his "don't think sexy thoughts" mantra by a flick to his ear. Jerking his head up, he was snout-to-snout with Spitfire. "Uh—"
Spitfire kissed Soarin, just a soft touching of the lips that reaffirmed her love for him. "I saw your little attempt not to stare."
"What? I wasn't staring!" Misinterpreting Spitfire's words, Soarin defended himself as best he could.
With a laugh, Spitfire leaned forward and pressed her mouth to Soarin's ear. "But I bet you also didn't imagine my belly, swelling with a foal you put there." She finished with a light nibble, and made her way to the door. "I'm gonna watch the newbies do some flying. You might want to work out that tension and get some flying in yourself."
Spinning in his chair, Soarin watched Spitfire leave with a surprised expression on his face—he thought he had been hiding his half-erect shaft pretty well, but her words were causing him to grow to full mast.
Spitfire spread her wings and pumped them hard. The truth was, she had been thinking about foals herself, several times, and though she wasn't completely against the idea, she wanted Soarin to bring it up. She spiraled up slowly, catching the thermal that rose off Canterlot's hot streets below, and soon reaching the same altitude she had been at when she had started her dive.
Of course, Spitfire was not ready to hear a groan coming from a cloud off to her left. She perked an ear, and spiraled up a little higher to get a look at what was happening.
"You can't move. Not an inch. Not embedded in this cloud." Thunderlane tested his work, gently pushing at the hard, "building quality" cloud that was packed around Rainbow Dash. "Our foal's safe, Stripes."
Her eyes wide, Spitfire quickly landed on a cloud overlooking what she had thought was some newbies having a make-out. What she had found was Thunderlane sealing Rainbow Dash in a cloud, only her plot, head, and forelegs sticking out. It was obvious what the stallion's plans were, and Spitfire was just about to rush down and stop him.
Thunderlane rubbed Rainbow Dash's jaw with one wing. "You're fine in there, Rainbow?"
"Yeah. This is great. We gotta do this back home some time." Rainbow Dash couldn't move more than the exposed parts of her, and she loved it. "Use my mouth too, if you want. I'll tap out if it gets too much, Master."
"I don't think I need to go that far, Stripes. Maybe I should just stuff cloud around that face of yours and let it set, too? Keep you quiet." Without another word, Thunderlane shoved himself into Rainbow Dash.
Spitfire froze. The way the two spoke this wasn't any kind of assault, but rather something they had planned together. It was a uniquely pegasus thing they were doing, and to Spitfire's normally straitlaced sensibilities, very kinky. Like a filly, she peeked over the edge of the cloud to watch the pair, unable to look away.
"Maybe I should just push this cloud a bit lower?" Thunderlane kept his pace up, bucking his hips against the trapped body of Rainbow Dash. He didn't take his time, or go gentle—he knew exactly how Rainbow liked it. "I could—I could cover up your legs, your head. Maybe those newbies wouldn't recognize you."
Rainbow Dash groaned, her ears tucking back at mention of being put on display like some kind of toy. She stared up at Thunderlane, and her heart did a loop-the-loop at how much she adored him.
Thunderlane leaned forward and started pushing cloud matter around the sides of Rainbow Dash's face, his hips still hammering away. "Yeah. I think I will. Put a little sign up for any stallion to have a ride. Fuck a Wonderbolt. Leave bits if you enjoyed it."
Biting on a forehoof, Spitfire watched as Rainbow Dash started to squeal and buck around in the tight cloud, and it was absolutely obvious that Thunderlane was climaxing. The way the big stallion slammed his hips against Rainbow's covered form had Spitfire's own engine running.
"Or maybe I'll just cover you up and screw you all day?" Thunderlane's voice had an edge of strain—he was unloading into Rainbow Dash, flooding her insides with his hot seed.
When more cloud was pooled up and over her face, Rainbow Dash let out a soft whine to Thunderlane, and was quickly assaulted by a kiss from the father of her foal. "Woof woof woof."
"Don't want to be buried?" Thunderlane kissed Rainbow Dash again, only stopping when she seemed impatient to talk.
"The burying is fine." Lowering her voice, Rainbow Dash wet her lips with her tongue. "But Spitfire is hiding on a cloud up there. She doesn't know I can see her."
His voice equally low, Thunderlane grinned like a timber wolf. "Then we give her something to remember."
Author's Note
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Soarin was done with the day's work. He had put all the new recruits through the Dizzitron, something he quite enjoyed, and seen how each handled it. None had done particularly well, of course, but it was still a good way to shake them up.
Slipping into the accommodation he shared with Spitfire, Soarin passed his captain as she was leaving the shower. His eyes roamed over her body, taking in her wet mane and tail in particular. There was something about seeing a mare in such a way that made her seem defenseless, open.
"Whatcha starin' at?" Spitfire, despite her sharp tone, enjoyed when Soarin looked at her hungrily. Not a single stallion dared to look at her in that way—not the leader of the Wonderbolts—but Soarin could get past that and just look. And lust.
"Hottest mare in Equestria. How was your day?" Stepping around Spitfire, Soarin made his way into the bathroom and straight into the shower.
Spitfire stretched for the sake of stretching, even arcing her wings out and spreading her primaries to help dry them. "Oh, the usual. Baking some cookies, looking after the little fillies and colts, and I even helped an old mare across the street." The sarcasm in her voice was heavy enough to fall through Cloudsdale.
"Ha ha." Soarin opted for a quick shower. Quickly working his wings under the water, he began shimmying and fluffing them to get the water to soak through fast. The greatest advantage to sharing a house on base with the Captain of the Wonderbolts was it was literally the best residence. The shower was huge, with multiple jets of water. In no time the grime and effort of the day was washed from his fur, feathers, and hair.
Stepping from the shower, Soarin grabbed some towels to start drying himself off. "Did you catch up to Rainbow Dash for that chat you wanted?"
"Yeah. About that…" Sprawled on the bed, Spitfire had her wings spread from where she had been preening them. "You wouldn't believe what I found. Sitting up in the sky, a few klicks higher than Cloudsdale, Thunderlane had Rainbow Dash trapped in a noctilucent that he had put together and kicked until it was hard."
Soarin froze where he stood and looked at Spitfire. "What?"
"I know, right?" Spitfire nibbled at one feather that had gotten a kink in it. "I mighta hung around a bit—they didn't see me—but you wouldn't believe the game they were playing. Thunderlane was pretending he was her master, and he could do whatever he wanted."
"But isn't that—"
"She actually stopped him. They talked normally for a bit, then got back into it." Opting to sacrifice the small feather as unsalvagable, Spitfire closed her teeth around the base and yanked it free.
"Huh." Soarin sat down and finished toweling off. "So they were both having fun?" The idea sounded interesting, and he couldn't help wondering about what it would be like to be in either position.
"You should have heard them, or seen them. Damn it was hot." The moment she said the latter, Spitfire's eyes widened. She lay there in absolute silence.
"So. Uh." Soarin tossed the two towels he used onto the hamper. "You—You want to try something like that?"
"Yes!" Spitfire covered her snout with both hooves. She had never been a shy mare, but for some reason this was making her feel really odd—in a good way. "Look at me? This has me worked up to Tartarus and back. If we don't do it, I'll be forever kicking myself."
Soarin stepped up and flopped onto his belly on the bed. "And here I thought the mighty Spitfire wasn't a newbie at anything?"
"You know I'm not a newbie. I've been with other stallions, even a mare in flight school, but this stuff is way different." Spitfire waved a hoof in the air. "So. If we're planning on doing this, how?"
"Wait, you really want to do this?" Soarin leaned forward on the bed and nibbled at the outer edge of Spitfire's wing for a few seconds. "Who will be tying up who?"
The ministrations to her wing by Soarin had cause Spitfire to slump down in bliss. Preening was an extremely personal thing, and having somepony she loved doing it to her usually resulted in a melted puddle of Spitfire. "Uh…" She had meant to continue, but Soarin started nibbling again.
Knowing that if he kept up nibbling on Spitfire's wings she would just stay on the bed all night, Soarin slowly backed off—after only a few minutes of turning his lover's head to mush.
"I'll be the one."
Both pegasi froze. Lifting their heads, Soarin and Spitfire met each other's eyes. Of course, they had both said it at exactly the same time in exactly the same way.
"How're we going to decide this?" Rolling to his back put Soarin neck resting against Spitfire's dock. He gazed up at the ceiling. "What about if we both think of a random number between one and ten, then say them at the same time?"
Spitfire barked a laugh. "You'll cheat."
"I won't. On the count of three. One. Two. Three."
"Five," Spitfire said.
"Seven," Soarin said.
"So. Which does what?" Shifting her hips a little, Spitfire made sure Soarin was comfortable.
Soarin appreciated the casual closeness with Spitfire; something they couldn't share on the job. "I don't know. I kinda hoped you would take charge and say what you wanted."
"Okay." Spitfire shook her mane. "Then you tie me up this time, and I'll do the shouting next time."
Soarin paused for a moment, then nodded—a gesture Spitfire would feel despite not looking at him. "And I have just the place."
It was not just full dark, it was the middle of the night. Spitfire walked, wearing neither her uniform nor flight suit, at Soarin's side. The landing strip, the barracks, everything was quiet.
"I told the pony on duty that they weren't to come out here tonight, that there was a top secret test." Soarin walked beside Spitfire, similarly clad (or not, as the case may be), and led her to the target. "Which is where this comes in."
"The Dizzitron?" Spitfire craned her neck at the device. It served two purposes for the Wonderbolts. The first use of the Dizzitron was to test how well a pegasus could pull out of a confusing and dangerous situation; it would spin up, whirling the pony around until they were almost whiting out from the force of the device, then it would catapult them into the air. The second use of the Dizzitron was to prepare Wonderbolts for such situations; an extra set of straps were added.
The Dizzitron, as it had been used during the day, didn't have the extra straps, but now it did.
"Shut up, newbie, and get ready for the ride of your life." Soarin kept his tone sharp. He glared at Spitfire, doing everything he could to play the part of hard-assed-Wonderbolt-instructor. When she didn't move at once, Soarin reached out with a wing and gave Spitfire's rear a smack.
Knocked from her daze by the swat on her flank, Spitfire took a few steps toward the Dizzitron before she even recovered her senses. "Honey-cakes."
"What?" The word was so odd that Soarin broke character.
"If I'm in trouble, or anything. I'll shout that. Anything else and I'm just having fun…" Spitfire took a deep breath and, on her exhale, relaxed herself. "…Sir."
Something about the situation really spoke to Soarin. A shiver ran through him, and he nodded. "Alright, newbie, get on the platform and let me strap you in. Tonight we're doing a special night-flying, distraction training session."
Spitfire walked up to the platform. The Dizzitron had been upgraded since she had last "beaten" it. She had ridden the older model for nearly twenty minutes, and when her squadmates lifted her out she spread her wings and flew. Tonight, Spitfire hoped that she might not be able to walk away from it—for a totally different reason.
After checking with the control panel that the Dizzitron was locked and safe, Soarin approached Spitfire. "Ass to the wall, newbie." Soarin stomped the last few steps and lashed out with his wing when Spitfire didn't move fast enough.
"Sir! Yes, Sir!" Again the swat to the rump made her move faster. Spitfire thought back to her early days in the Wonderbolts, remembering how lazy she would be some days. She pressed her rump to the Dizzitron and waited further instructions—despite knowing exactly how to be strapped on.
Soarin walked around to Spitfire's side. Her body was so trim, so perfect, that it almost seemed wrong to berate her, but that was how you dealt with newbies. "This'll get you into shape, too, newbie." Using his hooves, Soarin slowly reached down to Spitfire's left-back hoof, then stroked it up to where the first leg-strap was.
Spitfire let out a soft huff when her leg was strapped to the Dizzitron. Soarin walked around her and did the other one. She was stuck, now, but she could have gotten free on her own still.
"Stand up straight, newbie." Keeping his motions slow, Soarin fastened the girth strap around Spitfire's barrel. "Okay, newbie. Wings out."
This was new to Spitfire, though she had seen others in the grip of the latest model of Dizzitron. She squirmed a little, stretching her wings out as far as she could to each side. "Y-Yes, Sir." Her voice caught in her throat as Soarin bound one wing then the other to the machine. The big, strong Wonderbolt inside her exposed her belly to her new master and shivered in delight at the simple act of that offering.
Soarin noticed a scent, and took a deep inhale. Spitfire wasn't a messy mare, but he could smell her arousal plain as day. "Getting a little worked up there, newbie. Maybe we'll have to help you out with that." He grabbed one of Spitfire's forelegs and pushed it up, strapped it in place. "I dare you to washout and tell me no."
Spitfire's heart was pumping hard, she reached the last of her free limbs up and pressed it to the straps awaiting it. "Sir. No, Sir!" As the last of her freedom was strapped to the Dizzitron, Spitfire—the mare with more endurance than sense—almost climaxed.
Not done yet, Soarin reached up for the last strap. Consisting of the front half of a safety collar, the strap supported Spitfire's neck and head safely, without harming her throat or the big veins carrying blood to and from her head. Just like the other straps, Soarin made sure it was tight.
"Now, newbie, we would normally spin the Dizzitron until you threw up, passed out, or screamed for us to stop. I'm a sporting stallion, though. How about a little bet?" Soarin reared up so his forelegs were on each side of Spitfire's head, just missing her wings that were spread out to each side. "We start with five rotations and then I test you. If you climax, we add ten rotations. Each five I'll test you again."
Spitfire's ears twitched at the words. She tried to make sense of the rules. "S-Sir. You spin me five times, test me, and if I c-climax you add ten more?"
"And then we keep stopping every five. What do you think, recruit?" Soarin's shaft was already hardening up. He looked at Spitfire, her whole body exposed to him, and couldn't keep a smirk from his lips. By the time she gave the slightest nod (her neck brace not allowing much more), he was hard as a rock. "Good."
Spitfire watched Soarin march over to the controls with the biggest hard-on she had ever seen him sport. She wanted him so much, but the crazy machine she was strapped to ignored her feeble attempts to break free. She squirmed a little more, and then the Dizzitron started.
The Dizzitron was designed to push even the most agile pegasus to the edges of their ability to keep conscious. Spitfire was hardly just an agile pegasus. But something was different. Normally Spitfire would sink her mind into the calm place that she used while flying, but all she could think about was how tight the straps were and how much she wanted to be touched.
By the time the Dizzitron finished five cycles, Soarin could see Spitfire was a mess. She was also upside down. The machine, every rotation, would spin the occupant one and a half times—the key being that half. "Well, well. Ready for your test, newbie?"
The world was still turning and all Spitfire's blood seemed to be rushing to either her head or her nethers. To her surprise, Soarin walked straight up to her and reared up. His forelegs planted on each side of her hips, and his head reached over her back-end. When the first lick came, Spitfire let out a moan to end all moans.
Licking his lips, Soarin was well aware of how excited Spitfire was. He had touched her once and she sounded ready to lose it. "So here's the test, newbie. If you can suck me off before I eat you to climax, you can get out of this thing. Ready? Set? Go!"
Spitfire had barely a moment before Soarin's shaft pressed to her lips, smeared a line of moisture along her cheek, and then pulled back. When he thrust a second time she caught him in her mouth and sucked hard.
With a mouthful of Soarin's shaft, Spitfire almost lost herself again when his tongue traced her slit. She groaned and bucked in the grip of the Dizzitron, but the machine was meant to hold a potentially struggling pegasus against the greatest forces it could apply. She relaxed, letting his tongue work its magic while she sucked.
Normally the race would be no contest. Soarin knew he had the shortest fuse in existence (all his fillyfriends had told him), but he had learned to compensate for it. Soarin didn't need to brag, he didn't need to prove himself, but he was pretty good at orally pleasing a mare.
Clenching her muscles, all of them, Spitfire strained in the straps even more. Soarin knew every sensitive spot she had and was taking advantage of it. Strapped down, unable to do anything but try in vain to suck him off, she felt her end rush onto her.
The straps creaked but held firm as Spitfire shook and trembled. She shook and could do nothing but focus on how amazing Soarin made her feel. The fantasy of being a young mare at her first training session, of getting a stallion who would show her how to fly was powerful, and she let the pleasure ride through her.
"Looks like you lost the bet, newbie." Soarin pulled back and dropped to all fours again. He was achingly hard, but this game was too much fun. He had never gotten Spitfire off before himself before. "So you have to give me ten more spins."
With the taste of Soarin's shaft hanging on her tongue, Spitfire watched (upside down) as Soarin walked back over to the controls. She opened her mouth to beg him, but it wasn't to be let loose. "S-Sir. Please, let me prove myself, Sir."
Soarin's head snapped around at the sound of submission. "You will, cadet. Five more spins and you can prove yourself." He pressed the button.
This time Spitfire was even more disorientated. The Dizzitron seemed to work better on distracted pegasi, and she was the epitome of that. When it finally came to a stop again—five turns later—she was panting hard and staring ahead.
Pressure against her sensitive entrance made Spitfire squeal and arch her spine as well as she could in the grip of the Dizzitron. She trembled and squealed as Soarin shoved up into her. Unlike the first time, however, Spitfire had the advantage.
Bucking his hips at an odd angle—almost vertical—Soarin felt when his end approached. He grunted hard and bent his head to the task. The last few thrusts were the hardest thanks to Spitfire's constant clutching at him with her pelvic muscles. "Good show… newbie."
Fire erupted in Spitfire. She felt the hot rush of Soarin's seed firing deep into her, and she smiled in sheer bliss. Her own recent climax had desensitized her a little, but despite that she could feel herself rising in pleasure again just at his fullness inside her.
Pulling down and back, Soarin disengaged with Spitfire. "Five more. You ready, newbie?"
Panting hard, Spitfire managed the smallest nod. "Sir. Yes, sir!"
The machine started again, Spitfire barely having noticed Soarin had left to operate it. The world spun and twisted, and her mind surrendered to the sensation. She was floating as a leaf on a very violent wind. The grip of the straps held her firmly in place—clutched like a lover.
When Spitfire stopped again, she let out a little groan. Upside down, she watched as Soarin's belly got closer. He wasn't hard this time, and she had to nuzzle at his sheath to get him to grow. Coaxing, suckling, Spitfire welcomed "little Soarin" back into her mouth with lavish licks. Above her, Soarin settled himself at her vulva like he was eating a pie.
Savoring Spitfire's scent, Soarin leaned down and started lapping at the one spot he knew always drove her wild. He could taste himself in her—not an uncommon situation given his propensity for a short fuse—and didn't relent once he began.
Spitfire felt Soarin swell into her mouth. She delighted not just in the feel of him, but the situation that brought on the unique position. She was strapped down, pinned and dizzy, and completely at Soarin's mercy.
Her eyes widening suddenly, Spitfire didn't realize how quickly her pleasure had grown. Her body started to tremble just as she felt Soarin's shaft flare in her mouth.
Mare and stallion, together for the first time, reached climax. Spitfire's mouth was impaled on Soarin's shaft, while her vulva was clutching at his tongue. Their bodies trembled and shook, each sharing the perfect moment with the other.
Panting, his body feeling like he had just spent two days in the air (flying hard), Soarin slowly backed away from Spitfire. The little whine she made when he slipped free of her mouth made him smile. "You need to go around again if you don't want to fall on your face."
"Don't care. Spin me. Fuck me. Just do what you want." Spitfire, for the first time since her graduation as a Wonderbolt, felt completely drained of both energy and spirit. She was spent in a way that felt better than anything ever had. The Dizzitron started again, slowly turning her around and leaving her right-side-up.
Soarin worked fast. He started at the bottom and unbuckled legs, wings, neck, and then belly straps. When the girth strap let go, Spitfire flopped forward.
Landing atop Soarin's back, Spitfire could only groan. She let her lover carry her back to their house, and didn't protest at all as he took her through a shower, and pulled her into bed. Cuddling, right after being undone so completely, was almost better than the sex.
Pressed against Spitfire, hugged to her like he was her big teddy bear, Soarin kept stroking her neck and shoulder. He watched as her breathing slowed all the way to sleep, and the relaxed smile she wore was worth almost everything to him. "Goodnight, cadet."
Author's Note
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Soarin could hear shouting coming from the practice field, but having left Spitfire in bed to relax a little longer (he couldn't bring himself to wake her), he knew it wasn't the Wonderbolts' usual source of vocal assault.
As he rounded the corner of the barracks he saw the source of the shouting: Rainbow Dash. The swell of her belly suited her, or so Soarin thought, and yelling at newbies definitely seemed to be something she had in the bag. The only thing that had Soarin a little worried was why she was yelling at them.
"If you chickens don't get the Dizzitron scrubbed down in the next half hour I'm gonna make you use it as is!" Rainbow Dash saw Soarin the moment he stepped around the corner—and started to smile. She knew exactly what the source of the mess was.
Reaching Rainbow Dash just after she had done some more—excellent—shouting, Soarin planted his hooves and stood beside her. Like Rainbow Dash, he knew the source of the mess on the Dizzitron, he just didn't know she knew. "Somepony made a mess? Couldn't hold their breakfast?"
Rainbow Dash raised one eyebrow just a little. "Somethin' like that. Where's Spitfire?"
"Sleeping in. We—uh—tried some new wing exercises last night." Soarin almost congratulated himself on the perfect excuse. Nopony would believe it—they all knew he and Spitfire were an item—but none of them would think he tied Spitfire to the Dizzitron and bucked her silly. "I'm sure she'll come out a bit later and yell at me about it."
Not shy about the collar around her neck, Rainbow Dash turned so that the tag caught the light a little. "She like that all the time? If you know what I mean?"
Soarin looked at the shiny tag on the collar and gulped. Rumors had gotten around that Rainbow Dash's relationship was a little wild, and after what Spitfire had told him it seemed so. "N-Not all the time. I mean—"
"What are you runts doing?! Scrub faster!" Spitfire's voice resounded over the training field. She saw Soarin and Rainbow Dash standing together and stomped her way over to them. "And you! You turned off my alarm, didn't you?"
Shrugging with a smile, Soarin was completely unprepared for what Spitfire did next. She kissed him on the cheek.
An expectant silence wrapped around Soarin, Spitfire, and Rainbow Dash. Everypony knew Soarin and Spitfire were an item together but neither showed it on the job. Until now.
"Last time I saw a mare that satisfied, Fluttershy couldn't walk straight for two days." Rainbow Dash's voice was pitched low, but she saw Soarin's ear twitch in obvious detection. "I mean. Captain, good to see you. Happy to report the recruits are working well and are highly receptive to yelling."
Spitfire's face split into a delighted smile. "Then I might just put that to the test. Soarin, I'm sure there's more paperwork to do. Rainbow, take my afternoon shift and I'll handle this one." Turning, Spitfire watched as one pegasus tipped the bucket they'd been cleaning with over the edge of the cloud. "What do you think you're doing, newbie?!"
For all Rainbow Dash and Soarin were good at yelling, it was literally Spitfire's passion. Each of them tucked their ears back as their captain went from conversation to eleven out of ten in one step.
"You heard the Captain." Rainbow Dash's mind was racing with plans. The previous day Spitfire had watched Rainbow and Thunder playing games, and now she strutted around. She realized first of all she would need to find Thunderlane, then work out some way for Soarin to stumble upon them.
Turning as Rainbow Dash did, Soarin nodded. "Right, yeah. Paperwork. Yay…"
Walking beside her friend and (technically) senior office, Rainbow Dash knew her normal walk was being compromised "Why don't you join Thunder and me for a few drinks at lunch?"
Soarin was about to refuse when a traitorous little voice in the back of his head brought up an idea that the rest of him thought was terrible and great: I could ask them about their "games". Nodding, Soarin smiled. "That sounds good."
"Just swing by our place when you're ready to go." Rainbow Dash waved to Soarin with her wing as she left him at the admin building. She and Thunderlane had their own Wonderbolts share-home, and now she had to get back there to find her husband.
Rainbow Dash spread her wings and pumped, launching herself slower than usual. She had to get back to Thunderlane and explain her plan.
It was eleven thirty by the time Soarin finished the paperwork. He stretched his wings first then every other muscle—arcing his back like a feline. Flight power wasn't the only part of being a Wonderbolt, flexibility was also a factor.
"I wonder if it's too early to go catch Rainbow and Thunderlane?" There was nopony to answer Soarin—none to tell him it was too early—so he stepped out of the stretch and made his way toward the door of the admin building.
Thunderlane saw the moment Soarin left the building and spread his own wings. Silent and fast, Thunderlane pumped hard to reach his home before Soarin—a feat he only managed because Soarin wasn't in a hurry.
Taking his time, Soarin practically glided all the way to the house Thunderlane and Rainbow Dash were living in. He landed easily beside their front door and lifted his hoof to knock.
Hearing the knocking, Rainbow Dash nodded to Thunderlane before letting out a muffled moan. A gag choked off her expression of pleasure, which only made her struggle more to make any kind of noise.
Ears perking up at a barely heard sound from inside, Soarin lifted his hoof to knock again, only his hoof didn't just rap upon the door, it pushed it open. "Oh, uh. Woops?" As he reached to pull the door closed again, Soarin heard a muffled squeal. His ears pricked forward, and without thinking he stepped into the house. "R-Rainbow Dash? Thunderlane?"
When Rainbow Dash saw Soarin in the doorway of the bedroom, she moaned again. He looked startled, confused, but she watched as dawning comprehension grew on his face.
Thunderlane had Rainbow Dash strapped into the mounting frame. An archaic device from days gone by, the frame held a mare in place and forced her head down. He was facing away from the doorway, balls deep in Rainbow Dash's vulva, and knew that she could see Soarin standing in the doorway. It went without saying that Thunderlane himself couldn't see Soarin.
Eyes widening further with ever buck Thunderlane's hips made, Soarin's mouth opened to say something. A look of panic crossed Rainbow Dash's face, and she shook her head to him. Slowly, Soarin closed his mouth again.
Now Soarin had a moment to think beyond "Two of my closest friends are the kinkiest ponies I know," and put it to work, naturally, imagining Spitfire bound and tied, even gagged. He felt himself slip free of his sheath, and though he knew he should leave, the rational parts of Soarin were clubbed into submission by his naughty side.
"Relax that ass, little bitch, I'm plowing that next." Despite it being mostly for show, Thunderlane was more than happy to let his libido run free. He ignored the stallion watching him, and just kept shoving himself into Rainbow Dash.
The words distracted Soarin from his fantasy. Things had seemed to be good with Spitfire strapped up and claimed by him, but the thought of her—with a suitable toy—returning the favor pushed out all his dominant ideas.
Rainbow Dash stared past Soarin as her own lust rose. She knew her master was good to her, and with him claiming her like this he was very good to her. But then the thrusting stopped. Her answering whine turned into a grunt past the gag as Thunderlane pulled out and thrust into her rear.
Thunderlane didn't—couldn't—look backwards. This game wasn't a proper session, and though he wasn't exerting his full dominance over Rainbow Dash, Thunderlane kept an eye on her for any tap-outs. "Can't put any more foals in you, might as well use you properly."
In his head Spitfire was saying the words to Soarin. He found himself rocking in place, eyes a little glazed, imagining his partner stuffing—stuffing something into him. The realization that he needed something to work with shocked Soarin back into the real world. His eyes widened as it fully dawned on him that not only was he standing here watching his friends have sex, Rainbow Dash could see him doing it.
Flicking her hooves, Rainbow Dash gave Thunderlane the gesture to slow and talk. He didn't stop (because she hadn't used that gesture), not that she wanted him to. When the gag was pulled back from her lips, Rainbow Dash laughed. "He's gone. You should have seen how into it he was. Do you think he'll top Spitfire again?"
"Does it matter to you right now?" Thunderlane kept his pace even, delivering slow, deep thrusts into Rainbow Dash's rear.
Moaning, Rainbow Dash shook her head. "N-No, master." The gag was worked back into her mouth and the mother-to-be let herself go to her dominant's care.
It was only a short flight to Cloudsdale proper. Soarin's wings were burning, however. There was an academy record for how long a flight from the Wonderbolts HQ to Cloudsdale should take, and Soarin was sure he had just broken it—possibly in half.
He knew the place he was looking for. Everypony knew of such places, but nopony ever talked about them. There was the central ring of shops in Cloudsdale, and then another ring of shops around those before homes started. The building Soarin was headed for nestled in an alley way between two shops, the back of the shop actually the front of somepony's house.
Soarin landed in the street and looked around. There was the normal amount of hoof-traffic as well as the odd pegasus flying above—it was Cloudsdale after all. With another look to see if anypony noticed him, Soarin slipped into the alley.
The purpose of the store was not obvious. It didn't have a neon sign, and it didn't have a counter of its wares on a trolley outside. Pushing the door open, Soarin slid within. Inside, the store was the opposite of its exterior. The first and last thing to fill Soarin's vision was long, stallionesque shapes that had more to do with what was under his belly than Soarin had ever wanted to know about before.
Now it was everything he could think about.
"Hi there! Welcome to Cloudsdale Cloppers. What can I help you with?"
Soarin's head jerked toward the male voice, and saw an oddity for the city. A bat pony, his eyes bright and welcoming, stood in the middle of the shop. Like all such, his coat and mane were dull colors.
The range of dildos in the store, however, were practically every color of the rainbow. Every time Soarin tried to look for what he wanted, he blushed and snapped his eyes back to the store clerk. "I n-n-need a—" The word was only used in jokes, normally. Dirty jokes involving a mare getting her own back on her stallion. Soarin drew up all the bravery he had and squeezed his eyes closed. "Ineedastrapon!"
"Of course, sir. Right this way."
Soarin's eyes snapped open and he managed a nod before following the bat pony. Past all kinds of odd toys he walked, until—true to his word—the salespony had led him to a shelf lined with strap-covered toys. One caught his attention: it was gold-colored.
"Very good eye you have, sir. Notice the extra edged flare. I take it this is something for your partner to wear? You wouldn't fit inside that one." At Soarin's confused look, the clerk smiled to reveal his frugivorous fangs. "A stallion can wear one of these too, sweetie. Keep his mare feeling every thrust long past his own flagging—if you know what I mean?"
Knowing all too well, Soarin was nodding his head before he knew what he was doing. He quickly shook it.
"Well. I'm sure the mare in your life is going to love you—a lot—for this one." The bat pony lifted down the golden-colored toy. "How big are you? Be honest, or maybe I need to get my measuring magazine out?"
"Magazine?" Soarin was trapped in a dream. He couldn't do or say anything without being prompted by the bat pony.
"Would you prefer mares or stallions?"
Soarin gulped. "Four hoof-lengths!"
"There! Wasn't so hard—unlike these toys. This one should fit you." The bat pony lifted down another strap-on, this one had a hollow toy that Soarin could see would be just a little longer than he was. "You'll want something for both. Wetness is important, and we have the latest enchanted goop that unicorns have come up with."
Nodding his head, Soarin had no clue what he was getting into, only that he was happy that the bat pony seemed to understand. "Thank you! In a bag please. A brow—"
"We have pink bags. If I gave you a brown bag, everypony would be suspicious." Carrying the items to the counter, the bat pony did indeed put them in a pink, cute bag. "That'll be fifteen bits."
Soarin paid—quickly—and grabbed the bag while turning to rush out. Without the constant pressure of a thousand penis-shaped bits of rubber staring in his face, Soarin regained his manners. He stopped in the doorway and forced himself to turn to the nicest sex-toy proprietor he had ever met—also the only. "Thank you. I… Just thanks!"
The bat pony didn't even get through a reply before Soarin was out the door and in the sky. "What a nice chap. Those Wonderbolts are always so polite, but it must have been his first time." His musings were cut short when another pony opened the door. "Welcome to Cloudsdale Cloppers! What can I help you with?"
"Vibrator!"
"Right this way." It seemed—to the bat pony—that it was going to be a day for newbies. He smiled wider.
Author's Note
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"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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"Get to it, newbies! I want to see every one of you doing laps as fast as you can fly, got it?!" Rainbow Dash had never gotten why Spitfire enjoyed yelling so much—until now. "Move it newbie! What do you think this is, your first tryout?! MOVE!"
Landing at Rainbow Dash's side, Soarin tried to stand straight and proud—it mostly worked. To the casual eye he was the proud commander of the lead wing of the Wonderbolts. Anypony who knew him knew he was slouching just a little and had his tail arched a touch more than normal.
Rainbow Dash knew Soarin well enough to notice these things.
"Did Captain Spitfire like my present?" Slipping Soarin a grin, Rainbow Dash immediately turned her attention on one young stallion flying loops over their heads. "What do you think you're doing?! You call that flying?! I call that failing! MOVE IT!"
"You're really getting into this. And yes, she did." Soarin kept his voice low to keep from confusing the new recruits—they only needed one voice yelling orders at them and Rainbow Dash's was that voice for the moment.
Fluffing her wings in the high-altitude air, Rainbow Dash raised her voice, "I've seen unicorns fly faster than this! Gusty! Great flying! Keep going!" She turned to Soarin. "How was it?"
"I didn't tap out or anything, but it wasn't as fun as I'd hoped. There were other things I did like about it, but the toy being in—I don't like things going in there." Part of Soarin's promise to Rainbow Dash, when he'd gotten her help setting things up, had been to tell her everything. He'd thought she was going to be into hearing it, but she seemed more like an instructor than ever.
"You told her, right?" Rainbow Dash asked.
Soarin nodded. "Yeah."
"What did Spitfire say?" Rainbow Dash barely got the words out when she spotted one of the recruits talking to another. "Is this a social club?! Did I tell you to slow down so you could talk?! Move those wings!"
"She said we could do other things. That I didn't have to do it." Other things, Soarin was pleased to remember, had worked out well. "But she was enjoying it when we did it."
Rainbow Dash was about to yell something, but stopped when the recruit she was about to chew out self-corrected. "You have three options then. Either she doesn't do it again, you find a way of making it fun for you too, or you find somepony else to help her scratch that itch."
"What?!" Soarin took a step back from Rainbow Dash. "Y-You mean get another stallion—"
"Or mare." Rainbow Dash held up a hoof at Soarin. "Not it , by the way. I'm spoken for. Talk to Spitfire—these kinds of games are all about communication and fun. Would it be fun if you and Spitfire both nailed the same mare at the same time?"
The idea sparked an old, long-buried stallion desire—to have a harem—but Soarin was still a little in shock at the idea of being with anypony other than Spitfire. "I-I'll talk to her about it." He returned to stand at Rainbow Dash's side.
"Good answer. Like I said, communication." Pointing at one of the trainees swooping overhead, Rainbow Dash nudged at Soarin. "Check out her wingspan."
Blood rushed to Soarin's cheeks. "I'm not going window shopping for—"
"Business first. I'm talking about her flying potential, Sir, not her tail." Rainbow Dash worked hard not to let her demeanor break. She managed it, but only just.
"Oh!" Soarin studied the recruit in question's flight, narrowed his eyes a little against the light and nodded. "She'll be one of the best in a straight line, but she's going to need to build wing muscle to get her aerobatics up. And she's got an old injury in her right wing—look at the way she favors the left when turning."
The last bit made Rainbow Dash blink in surprise. She hadn't noticed the asymmetry at all.
Three weeks had passed since Rainbow Dash had taken "light duties" at Wonderbolt HQ. Light duties had included saving a pony who'd been tumbling out of control after the Dizzitron sent them tumbling more than they could handle, shouting a lot , and fending off Thunderlane's fatherly advances.
Her midsection was bigger than ever, and she was nearing the date when Dr. Horse had given her as when she was due. Half her class had washed out—which wasn't uncommon—and she was pushing the rest harder for it.
There were two ponies who'd joined a special class with her, one that lacked a classroom, but had a lot of practical classes. Looking up into the air, Rainbow Dash almost missed her captain walking up to stand at her side.
Spitfire craned her head back and looked at the eight pegasi flying in tight formation above. "I hate this."
"You were the one who said I should do light duties. 'Train the new recruits,' you said. 'It'll give me a chance to do all the paperwork,' you said. You say a lot more than you yell now, right Cap?" Extending a wing up, Rainbow Dash shielded her eyes as the formation swung into the western part of the sky.
"Damn it all to Tartarus, yes. Look at these wings," Spitfire said, spreading her wings wide. "Do these look like the wings of a desk-jockey?"
"They look like the wings of a mare who does more flying than any desk-jockey ever would. You haven't lost your edge, Cap. Get that formation tighter!" Rainbow Dash had to raise her voice a lot to be heard by the recruits, but she managed. "How was last night?"
Spitfire sighed. "He wants to try again. I don't give a crap about how fun it is for me, if Soarin isn't enjoying himself, I'm not enjoying myself."
"Have you tried letting him top while you wear the toy?" Rainbow Dash asked.
"Twice. It doesn't work." Spitfire sighed. "And he won't get it out of his head. We talked about inviting somepony else, but both of us are unsure in that regard. How's the foal going?"
When the pregnancy had started, Rainbow Dash assumed she would get sick of ponies asking after her and her foal—the opposite had happened. Every time she was reminded of the life growing inside her (which was every step she took, as well as verbal cues), Rainbow Dash's excitement grew. "They started kicking when I fly. Sometimes I pump my wings in the hope of getting a few pokes back, but they didn't fall for that."
"They'll be flying themselves soon—taking after their parents. How is Fluttershy doing?" Spitfire wanted to avoid the topic of her bedroom life. It'd taken her time to even accept that in this one thing Rainbow Dash was her senior (knowledge wise).
"Her parents moved in to help her get ready. Thunderlane's wearing himself out flying between Ponyville and here to see us on alternating days. He must be building great muscle in his wings." At mention of her husband's wings, Rainbow Dash felt a stirring of arousal. She didn't care how pregnant she was, she wanted her stallion. "Have you considered taking your ward off?"
"A foal? Me?" Spitfire got just a single guffaw of laughter out before Rainbow Dash's hoof poked her chest. "Not going to happen, Crash. I don't care how awesome it feels. I like flying too much. And I think Soarin would flip out if I talked about it."
"Might distract him from that toy. It's not all bad. I can still fly, it's actually easier to get around flying than walking." Rainbow Dash winced when she got a little kick from her foal, only rather than the cute kicks most were this one was right into her bladder. "I'll be right back!"
Spitfire laughed. "That's another reason I won't!" She turned her eyes skyward as the recruits flew past at their highest speed. She couldn't stop herself—Spitfire whooped in excitement and shot into the air.
"And then I led their formation. I had them swap positions each turn… It was great, Soarin." In the shower of their shared home, Spitfire fluffed out her wings in the falling water to best work it between her feathers. "Why don't we mix things up?"
Soarin poked his head into the bathroom. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you top again tonight, and we continue the game we started last night." Spitfire turned in the shower, making sure her back-end was aimed at Soarin. "I'll be your slutty little slave filly again."
It had been an ongoing game that Soarin had greatly enjoyed. He started getting hard just thinking about it. "Okay, but we both are talking to Rainbow Dash tomorrow about my plot." He turned and walked to their special toy chest. Flipping the lid, Soarin listened vaguely to Spitfire's assent to his demands while he pulled out his little pet's collar.
The bat pony—Spicy Hot was his name—had quickly earned two customers that returned every week for more things. Soon, Soarin and Spitfire would need their own chests.
Spitfire was just climbing out of the shower when she watched Soarin walk up to her directly. He didn't seem to pay any mind to her as he wrapped the thick collar around her throat and closed the locking clasp to seal it in place.
"Dry yourself off and then get under me." Soarin loved using commands with Spitfire. He loved giving them, he loved it when she followed them, and loved it even more when she messed up. Looking in the mirror, Soarin checked his teeth and face, picked up the trimmer and started neatening up the fur around his jaw.
Hurrying to dry, Spitfire ended up foregoing part of her normal routine to drop to her belly on the floor. The squeeze around her neck was all she needed to slip completely into her role. Her master's shaft was barely poking out of his sheath—that wouldn't do. Nuzzling along his belly fur, Spitfire pressed her lips to the tip of his chubby member and opened her mouth for him.
Soarin grew in Spitfire's mouth, his shaft responding quickly to her ministrations. Though as she worked at "cleaning" him, Soarin noticed Spitfire hadn't dried herself off completely. Smiling into the mirror, Soarin lifted his back leg to give Spitfire better access. "You're a good worker, but I'll be damned if you're going to get off lightly for disobeying me this time. I told you to dry off."
Spitfire tried to work herself off Soarin's shaft so she could apologize, but as she tried to pull back he shoved forward. Her eyes widened—Spitfire realized she was not going to be allowed to beg for forgiveness. Surrendering to her task, and accepting that she would be punished, Spitfire let the warm blanket of submission wrap around her.
Humping his hips, Soarin pushed himself into Spitfire's mouth—used her simply for the hole she provided, while he wasted as much time as he could with his fur trimming. Her lips dragged at his flesh again and again, and though he wanted nothing more than to just take her, he had a role to play.
Only just getting warmed up to her task, Spitfire felt the rush of Soarin's seed flood her mouth. Above her, he didn't so much as let out a groan at the release—he just kept thrusting. Gulping down what didn't leak from the corner of her mouth (and stain her cheeks), Spitfire swished her tail at the simple pleasure of doing a simple task well. Even if that task was providing her master with a hole to fill.
Soarin had to bite his lip to not show an ounce of his pleasure. Long nights of practice had given him the stamina to continue pleasuring a mare, or taking his own pleasure from one. The game was on, and he'd just come up with his punishment as a lightning bolt of pleasure stabbed through him. He grunted this time, shoving forward into Spitfire's mouth as he delivered his second load to her. "Get up. It's time we see about your punishment."
As soon as Spitfire's mouth was free she licked her lips clean, but it was too late—she had a sticky moustache of Soarin's seed around her lips, and some of it had started to mat into her fur. "Yes, Master." It was all she could say in answer, the only two words she was allowed to use apart from her safe word. She got up from her belly and followed Soarin into the bedroom.
"On the edge of the bed. Lay on your belly with your back legs off the side—here." Soarin gestured to where the two rings were on the floor. While Spitfire got into position, he fetched the cuffs, wing straps, and a bridle and bit. When he turned back and saw Spitfire positioned exactly how he'd told her, he smiled.
Spitfire had no warning for Soarin walking over the top of her, pressing his belly into her back, and shoving himself into her—admittedly wet—vagina. She arched her back and let out a wordless cry of pure bliss, only to have a firm piece of metal shoved into her mouth, forcing her tongue down.
Eyes suddenly wide, Spitfire didn't know Soarin had gotten anything quite so kinky as a bondage bridle. She felt the straps pull around the sides of her face, a single strip running up between her eyes. He secured it over and behind her head, and she heard a final click as a lock drove home. She tried to say something, anything that wasn't her safe word, but all that came out was incoherent grunts and gasps.
"Your left foreleg will be kept free." Having secured Spitfire's mouth, Soarin left her a way to get his attention—he would endeavor to keep an eye on it.
Tight straps locked around all four legs one at a time. Spitfire felt Soarin dismount her once he had both her forelegs locked up (one merely cuffed, not folded and strapped uselessly), then he attached the rear cuffs and, when Spitfire tried to lift her back legs, had fastened them to the ring bolts in the floor.
She spread her wings in defiance, flapping them without putting any air under them, only to have Soarin gather up her right one. Folding it, bending her limb carefully at the joints, Soarin wrapped the first wing restraint around her limb—then the other one.
Spitfire was immobilized except for that one foreleg—which she kept firmly still and pressed to the covers. Behind her, she could feel Soarin doing something with her tail, wrapping something around it again and again. Then he pulled her tail upward, whatever was around it was now what he used to control the plume of hair.
Tying the ribbons leading from Spitfire's tail to another ring in the ceiling, Soarin looked at his lover. She was completely restrained, bound, and gagged. The blinkers on the bridle he'd used would keep her from getting a good look behind herself. Lining his mouth up at her slit, Soarin blew gently over her folds. It was time to play.
Squirming in the bondage, Spitfire struggled to move, to free herself of the now hated restraints. She bucked and grunted, shifted her hips again and again, but all that happened was Soarin blowing over her nethers. Finally, slumping in the restraints, Spitfire gave up and surrendered herself to what she thought was inevitable—she was not going to get sex tonight.
Soarin waited for the exact moment when Spitfire slumped. She would fight him to the bitter end if she thought she had a hope of winning, but he knew that if the bindings were secure, Spitfire would surrender. Which was when he shoved the dildo between her folds.
The lance of rubber into her body had Spitfire in motion again. She squirmed, shoved herself around, and fought to say anything as Soarin pushed the thing deeper into her. She knew it wasn't his shaft, she knew it would soon go still, but as the toy spread her insides, Spitfire wanted to beg for more.
When the big toy kissed the end of her passage, barely touching Spitfire's cervix, the pressure ended. She whined and whimpered like a dog, fighting the bridle and bit for the ability to speak. She had thought—when Soarin first mounted her and began tying her up—that this wasn't punishment, but her lover knew her desires too well.
Soarin didn't touch Spitfire after he hilted the toy into her. He watched her body squirm and shift as she tried in vain to get more stimulation from the very passive toy. Again she slumped to the bed.
The touch of the rubber toy against her anus made Spitfire jerk in the bindings again. No no no! she cried in her own head, Don't put another passive toy in me. Please, Master, I'll be good! The words echoed in her head, Spitfire now firmly in her submissive place, the place where she belonged to Soarin completely.
As the toy rubbed around her sensitive rear, Spitfire kept begging Soarin to spare her from her fate, from the fate of being a worked up and defeated bitch tied to the end of his bed all night. She twitched, but she didn't dare try to pull her rump away from the toy—that would only ensure more punishment.
The thick bulb of the plug started to push into Spitfire, and she moaned into the gag as it stretched her. She could feel a warmth to it and knew Soarin had used the magic lube again. The stuff tingle and inflamed the pleasure in her rump to the point where she was begging for him to push the toy all the way in so she could squirm in needy pleasure. But the toy pulled out.
"As much as I want to punish you all night, pet, you do give great blowjobs."
Spitfire began crying in pure bliss as Soarin's flared tip kissed her anus. Tears met dried ejaculate on her cheeks, and Spitfire could only think of two words to say to her master: Thank you. He moved slowly, more hot lube shoving ahead of his shaft as he stretched and claimed her rectum. Spitfire didn't jerk and squirm—as she might have done when they first started these games—this was her reward.
Only when Soarin's medial ring stretched her sphincter did Spitfire know that he was just past the midway point. She welcomed her master's bulge deeper, her mind unraveling as he finally settled his groin against her croup.
Holding Spitfire's tail to the side, Soarin brushed her mane with one hoof. "You're my good filly, aren't you?" She nodded under his hoof. "My good filly should make sure she follows her owner's commands completely, shouldn't she?" Another nod. "Good. I want my good filly to remember this, and what good fillies get."
Spitfire's eyes flared wide open as Soarin pulled back, then shoved into her again. She squealed, cried out, fought against the restraints with everything she had, and took Soarin's shaft again and again. Her mind was lost to her as her body was rutted like a wild animal. Rough, fast… satisfying.
But Spitfire had never gotten off from anal sex alone. A small part of her mind knew this, knew that no matter what Soarin did, how energetic and how long his attention on her rear would be, she would not be getting a climax tonight unless he changed things around. And that's my punishment, Spitfire realized.
Soarin had a great time. He spent himself within Spitfire again and again. He rode her like a beast for nearly two hours. He didn't feel the telltale clenching of her body in orgasm once.
Dismounting, Soarin walked into the bathroom and cleaned himself down. He took care of Spitfire too—washed her down and made sure her vulva and anus were clean of any mess. Her fur he left, he knew she liked a little mess.
Spitfire was aware of the cuffs around her legs being removed—forelegs and back. She didn't feel him unwrap her wings because he didn't, nor did he deign to remove the bridle. Her tail was unbound, and with that Spitfire slumped to the bed.
"Windigo." Soarin said, looking into Spitfire's eyes as he said the signal that ended their game. She wasn't out of the woods yet, of course. Soarin wrapped Spitfire in a blanket and reached for the bridle.
Shaking her head, Spitfire lifted her hooves and playfully batted away Soarin's. She smiled around the bit and nuzzled against his chest.
"And I suppose you don't want your wings out or the toy removed?"
Mention of the long toy in Spitfire's depths reminded her of it. It moved with her body, filling her, completing her. She shook her head and snuggled against Soarin, content to let his legs and wings pull her close and hold her until morning.
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"He said he might have found somepony who's compatible," Soarin said while his hooves rubbed Spitfire's shoulders. Her wings were splayed out from where she lay on the bed. She was the very picture of relaxation when wearing her bridle (a custom-made and fitted piece that Soarin had gotten for her birthday).
Thankfully for Spitfire—and their conversation—the bit was hanging loose from the corner of her mouth. "That bat will be the end of us. Did he say who?" Since escalating their relationship and bedroom activities, Spitfire had learned a new level of calm, and it relied entirely on Soarin. That her best wingpony also showed more pep and excitement showed her how much synergy they had.
But, there was a slight fly in the ointment that was Soarin and Spitfire's private life: they each had exotic tastes the other wasn't into. Spitfire loved pegging, while Soarin didn't like anal; Soarin had discovered a desire for much more messy things than Spitfire would tolerate even at her most submissive; but what had become the reason they talked to somepony else was that they wanted to both be on top for once.
"No. All he said was that if we're interested, meet him at his shop just before closing time." Shifting his hips, Soarin felt his shaft—deep in Spitfire's ass—tug his medial ring toward her sphincter. He pushed forward again while his forehooves kept up their massage.
Spitfire let out a happy moan at being filled back up with Soarin's shaft. She twitched both wings before her body once more relaxed. "Mare or stallion?"
Soarin lay still. Even his forehooves stopped moving. "I don't know and—and it excites me more."
"Does my stallion like the idea of me claiming another stallion as my mare ?" Turning her head, Spitfire looked back at Soarin. Her normal guide for when her stallion was excited was presently occupied. She gazed into Soarin's eyes and saw hunger. "I take that as a ye—"
"Mare or stallion, so long as we do it together." Soarin shoved as hard as he could and leaned over Spitfire's back to nuzzle her neck. For a while, words failed both of them as their bodies shifted to an ancient rhythm.
When Soarin pumped her rear full of his seed, Spitfire let out a happy groan and used her forehoof to shove the bit between her teeth—latching it on. With her words suitably muffled, she grunted, panted, and whinnied in bliss as her mate took her again and again.
Knowing he wasn't going to get Spitfire to orgasm, Soarin pounded her for all he was worth. After the first time he'd bound and denied her, Soarin had discovered that when Spitfire loved to be toyed with when she was submissive.
Shivering in orgasm for the fifth time, Soarin slumped against Spitfire's back and nibbled at her neck. "There's still an hour before he closes. I could fuck this ass some more, or we could go early and do some shopping."
Whining into the bit, Spitfire could neither get any words out nor remove the locked-on accessory herself. Enchanted toys were expensive, but a bridle that the wearer couldn't remove had been one thing she had been willing to spend all her bits on. Not that Soarin-her-master wanted her input, he was telling, not asking.
"As if there was a choice. Ha!" Pulling his hips back, Soarin slammed forward again and began to rut his mare once more.
Spitfire practically melted.
Spicy Hot would normally have deployed his wittiest banter when the doorbell rang right on close. His mouth opened, ready to deliver a "coming late" joke, when he spotted his two newest favorite customers. "Spitfire, Soarin! Darlings, do I have a playmate for you."
It was her signal. Putting one hoof before the other, she walked from the back room to the shop floor. Her fur was dyed a light brown—feathers too. With her mane trapped under the tight, black rubber hood, nopony could see her features well enough to recognize her. Even her tail was carefully groomed and tied up, wrapped in a tight sheath to hide her identity. But, she recognized the two ponies.
Soarin stared at the hooded mare. "This is a little much, don't you think?" He looked at her, studied her eyes, and could recognize hunger in them—a shiver ran along his spine. He paid careful attention to her mask: it looked almost like a Wonderbolt one, except black rubber. The gag she wore was prominent, and it obviously had a clip to remove it for extra access.
"Who is she, Spicy?" Spitfire pulled her own eyes away from the anonymous mare to look at Spicy Hot.
"She doesn't want her name revealed until you have not only decided, but possibly had a night with her." Recognizing a hint of interest in both Soarin and Spitfire, Spicy Hot continued. "The important bits. She has a husband, and he is okay with this (I spoke to him myself). She isn't related to either of you, but you definitely know her. And, as you asked, she enjoys getting messy and is a consummate submissive. She has a safe gesture, though she is gagged within that hood. Any questions?"
"This is a two-way street, Spicy. She's giving us a lot about herself, but we'll be revealing ourselves to a strang—someone we know. How can we trust her?" Spitfire, now, couldn't take her eyes off the mare. Something in her hungered for this nameless, voiceless pony.
"There's the test," Soarin said.
Spitfire scoffed. "To a complete stranger?"
"She's not a stranger, Spicy just said. I can already tell she isn't a Wonderbolt, but she also has well-developed wing muscles. I think she'll be worth it." Stepping closer, Soarin lifted his forehoof and held it upside down under the mare's jaw.
Looking into Soarin's eyes, the nameless mare gulped a little, unsure what he was going to do. For nearly a minute he looked at her, his eyes tracking hers, while her heart seemed to speed up more and more.
Soarin had done this with every recruit that had almost washed out of the Academy. He held her complete attention, studying the slightest movements of her eyes. "You aren't going to screw us over?" When her head shook slightly from side to side, Soarin didn't blink in his assessment. "And you are going to make sure we know if we're going too far?"
That was the crux of Spitfire's real fear. A pony without a mouth couldn't scream at her if she was doing something horribly wrong. She watched the mare nod with a little relief, and Soarin's smile grow with more. "We can't promise this will be a regular thing, or even a more-than-once thing. We want to try something and needed somepony else to do it."
"She's fine with it being a one night stand. In fact, if it will be more regular she'll need to talk to her husband again." Reading from his notes, Spicy Hot tilted his chin up and looked at the two Wonderbolts. "So? Need to confer before you take her home?"
Soarin made up his mind but for one last thing. "Are you absolutely sure her partner is okay with this? Does he know who we are?"
Nodding her head then shaking it, the mare ached to tell the two ponies she would do anything for them, and let them do anything to her. Her gag was not just a source of kinky delight, but a curse. She was only able to make a soft whine and beg Soarin and Spitfire with her eyes.
"We'll take her," Spitfire said. Her eyes were looking at Soarin's. The bond of wingponies was as tight (in different ways) as that of special someponies. She knew Soarin's mind was made up to take the mare, but he wouldn't have voiced it until she had agreed. "Anything else we need to know? What's her safe gesture?"
Spicy Hot smiled almost as much as he knew the nameless mare was under her hood. "Left foreleg, like I told you two to always use. Even if you have a word, a gesture is more noticeable—emphatic." He didn't like giving lectures, particularly not to two ponies he'd come to consider friends, but this was something very special. "She trusts you, and I trust you. You have twenty-four hours of playtime. You can take off her hood if you want, or leave it on and escort her back here."
"You mean we could just—just fuck her, play with her, and then never know who she was?" The scenario had a definite effect on Soarin. "Maybe we'll do just that. Take her all night and day, then toss her back here." As he spoke, Soarin watched the mare's eyes not just sparkle, but she winked at him. "Come on."
The walk through the dark clouds of Cloudsdale, at midnight (when Spicy's shop closed), was a little eerie. Doubly so that she was being led by two ponies who neither knew who she was nor apparently cared to find out.
Tingles of excitement ran through her body, and she could feel damp, inflamed flesh under her dock. She ached for whatever these two amazing pegasi wanted to do to her, but she had to keep her mind sharp: her husband wanted a full blow-by-blow account of things. That was why he agreed.
Spitfire's nose was working perfectly—she could smell the aroused mare's feminine odor on the cool, dark night. Luna's moon was a dark, barely-showing sliver, and the stars were brighter for it.
"Almost there. We share a house attached to our offices at Wonderbolt HQ." Soarin didn't often get hard in public. It was a given for ponies that sometimes a stallion got excited and put on a bit of a show. It was also not polite to talk about it. From the time he'd left Spicy's store to when they reached the shared home, he was hard as a rock.
"You get her warmed up, Soarin. I need to get some things on." Spitfire leaned across, over the mare's shoulders, and kissed Soarin. She used one hoof to stroke the mare's side from neck to rump, and gave the firm rear a good smack with her hoof.
Breaking the kiss with a longing sigh, Soarin turned his attention on the mare. "We're both going to ream you out. Spitfire loves pegging, and I know a mare whose rump is going to spend more time being stretched than empty. I'll give you a hint, she's you." He found the collar of her restrictive hood, but it had no rings to attach bindings. "Darling, she has no collar."
"Well, lock one on her, Soarin." Spitfire loved how it felt to have a collar locked on, and she would bet this mare did too. She opened her personal toy chest and lifted out exactly what she needed.
"You heard her. Offer me your neck." Soarin judged the masked mare's neck to be the same size as his own, so fetched his collar. Closing it around her throat, he saw her shudder a little at the audible click it made. "We don't go in for those mechanical things—too much can go wrong with them. Our bindings are enchanted properly so that the wearer cannot remove them."
As the collar closed and locked around her throat, the mare fought not to cry out. She shuddered in submissive bliss as the feel of the collar settled not just around her throat, but the concept of it filled her thoughts. She was theirs, she belonged to them, she shouldn't hold anything back.
"There's a practice among stallions, an old one, of marking their mares. Spitfire is less than enthusiastic about it, but she lets me mark her occasionally. She washes it off quickly, and I can barely smell myself on her by morning. You are not going to get quite so clean." Pushing and shoving, Soarin had the mare falling sideways onto the big bed he and Spitfire shared.
"Are you marking her?" Spitfire asked.
Soarin looked over to see his wife buckling the strap-on to her hips. "Of course. She belongs to us until tomorrow night, but she can take this present home with her." He positioned himself over the mare, made sure she was facing his rump while he curled his wings under his belly and started stroking himself.
She'd let her husband do this, but that was a tame act compared to letting another pony mark her. Arching her back, the nameless mare looked up at Soarin's balls. With the way he was aimed, he was going to mark her from withers to croup.
Having worked himself up on the walk home, Soarin was already on a short fuse, and given he was prone to quick actions he was barely getting into stroking when he felt the fire bubble down his spine and between his back legs. Directing his shaft with his wings, Soarin exploded.
Spitfire, her favorite toy strapped under her so that the nub of it pressed between her folds, watched as Soarin launched his seed onto the mare's back. Fur already stained was now awash with thick seed, and the smell in the room quickly shifted from "aroused mare" to "stallion musk." In the past that smell meant Soarin had asked her for permission, and she'd given it, to mark her. Spitfire didn't like getting dirty, but this was different. "Rub that in, Soarin. Make sure she knows where she belongs."
Lifting his hoof, Soarin rubbed along the mare's spine, working the semen into her fur until his own hoof turned a light brown. "The dye's a little soluble."
"Light blue." Spitfire looked at the spiky, sticky fur with interest. "So that narrows it down to about a third of Cloudsdale. Maybe we can narrow down her identity like a game."
Soarin walked around the mare until he was in front of her. "Don't say a word," he said to her and unlatched the gag. Removing the long toy that had been locked in place, Soarin eased it out from between the masked mare's lips. "Don't worry. I'll fill that mouth again."
Staring up at Soarin, her back still damp with his seed, the masked mare nodded—but he'd already moved on. She could see his shaft, hard and ready again, lining up toward her as he simply stepped over her head. She opened her mouth and took him.
Fighting the urge to hump the mare's face, Soarin reached a hoof down and grabbed her rump. "Get that up, come on. Spitfire has a present for you." The mare worked with him, lifting her rump and bracing her back legs. "Good girl. Now, Spitfire, fuck that ass."
But Spitfire had her own plan. She nosed up under the masked mare's dock and wrapped tail-skirt and licked along the line of her vulva. Nuzzling, licking, Spitfire built the mare's lust up and finally licked higher.
Gasping around the shaft in her throat, the masked mare felt as Spitfire's tongue penetrated her anus. Spicy Hot had been most insistent about how she clean herself for tonight, and her preparations didn't go to waste given the present attention. She closed her eyes in bliss, unable to be anything but aware that it wasn't her husband shoving himself in her mouth or licking her asshole.
"Enough of that. You're clean as a whistle and ready for me." Climbing up on the mare's back, Spitfire adjusted her hips and drove forward. The positioning gave her the perfect angle to nuzzle at Soarin. "How's her mouth?"
Soarin whickered and fluffed his wings. "Not as good as yours, but we have time to train her. How's her ass?"
"Tight. Her husband hasn't been giving her enough. I can fix that." Chuckling at the mid-coitus conversation, Spitfire adjusted herself one more time and started humping. The feedback from her toy played up and down along her vulva, stimulating her in return for each driving grind forward.
Seeing his lover abandon herself to lust, Soarin did the same. He used the mare's mouth, humped and hammered at her muzzle like she was a convenient slut. He loved the smell coming from the masked mare's fur. Something, however, tickled at the back of his mind.
Taking her at both ends, the mare was trapped in a delicious fantasy. She had two of the most skilled fliers in Equestria double-teaming her, and all she could think about was how full she was, and how great she smelled.
A rush of heat filled the masked mare's mouth. She opened her eyes wide and gulped down at Soarin's seed. Shivering, expecting him to dismount her, she was shocked when the climax only seemed to incite the stallion to go faster. She could have tapped out—her foreleg was carefully resting against Soarin's back leg—but doing that was the last thing she wanted.
Some time around dawn the masked mare woke up to the sound of the shower. She had no clue how much sleep she'd gotten, thanks to a night of being used by both ponies. Lifting her head, she found that she was bound a little more than how she remembered when she'd passed out—there was a chain running from the collar around her throat to a heavy steel eye-bolt in the wall.
The smell of Soarin's musk was everywhere, pervading her sense of smell to the point where it seemed etched into her brain. She reached up to her mask, but the collar now kept it on.
Fumbling at her collar, she found the latch and tried to pull it. Soarin's words came back to her as the thing wouldn't budge. Enchanted. Settling back in place on the bed, she awaiting her masters' return.
Prancing out of the bathroom, Soarin fluffed his wings and headed over to the bed. "Good morning. Would you like some breakfast or did I feed you enough last night?" He loved the sight and smell of her coat. His seed stained all up her back, and had dried within her fur to taint it with his smell.
"Mmff!"
"You want your gag out? Going to tell us your name early?" Watching the mare nod, Soarin reached out and unlatched the gag. "Here you go, but I don't care about—"
"This has been so great! I can't believe two of the greatest Wonderbolts ever are my owners!" Turning her cerise eyes up to Soarin, Windy Whistles was sure he'd worked out who she was by her voice. "You still have me until midnight."
Shaking off his initial shock, Soarin did what his instincts told him—he pushed the gag back in Windy's mouth and latched the gag in place again. "Like I said, I don't care. I wonder if the mother of the greatest flier in Equestria is ready for another foal?"
Spitfire stepped into the room, still working a towel over her head with one wing. "The what-now? Did you work out who she is?" She got to watch as Soarin climbed on top of the masked mare again. This time he sank balls deep in her vagina.
"Yeah," Soarin said, starting to buck deep into Windy's body. "It's Rainbow Dash's mom."
"You're… Pony feathers…" Spitfire's mind tried to assemble a path of action that didn't involve her standing still. Being leader of the Wonderbolts she worked it out quick enough. Unbuckling the gag, Spitfire lay down in front of Windy. "Lick."
"Yes, Mistress!" Windy wasted no more time than needed to exclaim happily before sinking her snout under Spitfire's tail.
Author's Note
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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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Windy Whistles did like both her namesakes. It was a lazy afternoon and she was out for a glide, and thanks to a slight twist of some of her wing feathers, whistled. When she was a filly, Windy was worried about her wing being something wrong, something that would make her less of a flier. As an adult, with her filly breaking speed records and saving Equestria so many times over she didn't have hooves to count, Windy Whistles took it as just the thing it was—just an interesting difference.
The afternoon wasn't all relaxation and flight, however. Windy Whistles had a destination that would turn things into relaxation and submission, but she was in no rush. Gliding close to the restricted airspace of the Wonderbolt HQ, Windy watched her daughter far below, and could actually hear Rainbow Dash's impressive shouting over the wind in her ears.
"Hey there, sexy filly," Soarin said.
A shudder ran down Windy's spine at the words of her dominant friend. She looked to the side and saw Soarin flying in his Wonderbolt outfit. "Hello yourself, Master ." Windy Whistles put as much seduction and submission as she could into his title.
Soarin was a master when it came to formation flying. He'd spent countless hours flying in all positions of a wing of pegasi, but none so much as in the lead. With the same cues he gave newbies in the Wonderbolt Academy, he adjusted his wings just so that it forced the air just beside and half a ponylength back to be the most stable place to fly, and Windy slid right into it. "Getting into character already?"
"Maybe. I'm okay in Wonderbolt airspace?"
"With me flying lead, yeah. Gotta warn you, we have something special planned for tonight." Soarin loved how Windy's head spun around to face him—her ears were perked and forward, eager for more information. "But before we go too far into character, why don't we visit your daughter and soon-to-be grandfoal?"
The excitement in Windy Whistles shifted gears. From Master's-pet to Mothering in the blink of an eye. She looked down at the apparent destination of their slow spiral, and her heart leapt for joy. Her little filly wasn't so little, and she'd found herself a stallion and a mare to love. Her own eyes slid to Soarin, but all she could think of was Bow. Bow was the stallion for her. They were two of a kind—both of them loved having Windy bound up (though Bow wasn't the stallion for the job).
"Has she worked out us ?" Windy Whistles asked.
"I think she would have said something to one of us if she had. Do you think she needs to know?" Soarin brought them both down almost to the point where their words might be overheard. "Hey! Crash! I found an intruder on the base. What should we do with her?"
At Soarin's voice, Rainbow Dash tilted her head up. While she had excellent spacial awareness, she'd been focusing on her class and hadn't paid attention when a pony wearing Wonderbolt colors flew nearby. "Okay everypony! Take ten!"
"How's my little girl?" Windy Whistles landed and rushed toward Rainbow Dash to hug her.
"Mooom…" Her whine wasn't as complete in its portrayal of her feelings as it used to be—Rainbow Dash had come to terms, somewhat, with her parents' constant support. She let out a chuckle as she hugged back with one leg. "I feel like I'm going to pop, but the doctor says I have another week."
"It's good to see you on light duties. I knew you wouldn't take any time off, but your friends here care for you a lot." Windy couldn't help heaping praise on her daughter—like birds, pegasi were proud creatures, and Windy Whistles was very proud of her little filly. "And I bet it must be nice working with all this eye-candy around."
"They're students, Mom, not eye-candy." As she spoke, Rainbow Dash realized her mother wasn't looking at the students—she was looking at Soarin. What was the worst bit for Rainbow, however, was that Soarin was well within earshot. "Sh-She didn't mean it like that, Captain!"
"Crash," Soarin said, "believe it or not, stallions like hearing a mare talking about them like that. There's no need to feel bad about it, Mrs. Whistles."
Windy Whistles made a point of tracing Soarin's body with her eyes again. She'd seen Soarin in more intimate settings, but there was something about him in uniform that sparked her interest more. "I don't feel bad. I bet you have a special somepony who is very happy."
"S-Soarin! Mom!" Rainbow Dash wasn't actually angry, just freaked out. Her friend and her mom were flirting right in front of her. She could only watch as her mother walked right up to Soarin and leaned up to whisper into his ear.
"Right here? On the Wonderbolt's runway?" Soarin asked.
Windy Whistles just nodded, her smile pulling a little wider. It wasn't that she was specifically trying to torture her daughter, but she just considered her filly a little prudish given her own proclivities. "Right here, Mr. Soarin. I—I want to see it."
Stretching his wings out, Soarin had to flick his tail to get it into the right arc before he lifted his head and foreleg. It was a pose the Wonderbolts had used for a promotional poster, and Soarin hadn't been surprised to find that Spicy Hot had a copy. "Anything for a fan of the Wonderbolts."
The pose was a lot less lewd than all the conclusions Rainbow Dash's mind had jumped to. She stared at Soarin in surprise.
"He's quite something, isn't he?" Windy Whistles asked her daughter.
Well of course he's something, Rainbow Dash thought, he's Captain of the Wonderbolts, and considered the best flying stallion in all Equestria. She actually found herself studying the lines of Soarin's uniform for a moment before she realized what she was doing. "Mom! I'm with Thunderlane. Remember? For that matter, what about Dad?"
Walking around Soarin, making a show of inspecting him, Windy Shook her head. "I don't think he's that into stallions, dear. Although if you know something about him that I—"
"MOM!"
Soarin lost it first. He dropped his pose and started laughing. The moment Rainbow Dash turned a glare upon him, he actually fell over laughing.
"Oh no. You broke him." Windy Whistles walked over to where Soarin was kicking his hooves into the air and flapping his wings weakly on the ground. "Does your shouting do this to everypony, or just stallions?"
Struggling to keep from turning from blue to red, Rainbow Dash was on the verge of yelling again when she watched her mother bend down and kiss Soarin on the cheek. "Mom?"
"I heard a kiss from their true love could wake a stricken pony. I may not be his true love, but I could be a little hungry." Windy reached out with a hoof offered to Soarin. "Arise, sir prince!"
The silliness of the situation actually got Rainbow Dash to calm down and realize she'd been played. She was about to comment when Soarin kicked all his legs again.
"Ack! That didn't do it! I bet I need more kissing!" Soarin said.
"Come on, dear." Windy looked right at a startled Rainbow Dash. "You take one cheek and I'll get the other."
"M-M-Me? What?" Taking a step back, Rainbow Dash finally clicked to her mother, and apparently Soarin's, plan. "Really? We both have to kiss him? You planned this just to get me—what—embarrassed?"
Walking around to the other side of Soarin, Windy leaned down to his cheek. "If you don't help me revive him, I'll tell your Commander you ruined Captain Soarin's flying ability."
Just as Rainbow Dash was about to tell her mother a resounding no, she saw within herself how stupid she was acting, and how good a prank this was. Walking over, she leaned down to Soarin's cheek and kissed him there, chastely.
The moment the double kiss was over, Soarin let out a sigh. "Now my belly needs to be revived!"
Rainbow Dash had to smile at the attempt. She was in a relationship with Thunderlane and Fluttershy, and her mom was with her dad—they were both spoken for—which made the flirting seem safe . "Not gonna happen. You two do whatever. I'm gonna go do some more yelling."
"See you later, Crash." Soarin rolled over and got to his hooves. When he judged Rainbow Dash out of hearing range, he let out another giggle. "You're torturing her."
"She needs to loosen up." Windy stretched her wings and took a few prancing steps. "Speaking of, should we go and have something to eat before the games?"
"I might, but your meal will be covered by our play. In fact,"—Soarin walked toward Windy Whistles and leaned over her so his snout touched one ear—"your master forbids you eating anything but what he or his mate offers their little filly."
A shiver ran down Windy Whistle's spine from her neck to her dock and fed down into her back legs. She trembled where she stood at the public display of dominance that was, at the same time, discrete. Carefully bowing her head, Windy nodded slowly. "Of course, Master."
"Good girl. Come on now, your master needs to get some things ready while you talk to your mistress." Soarin shifted his snout just enough to catch Windy's ear in her mouth and he bit down, gently, until she gasped.
Rainbow Dash openly stared at her mother as she trotted after Soarin. The initial teasing and flirting was a game, but when the wind shifted just right, Rainbow Dash heard their conversation. Her eyes were wide as she watched Soarin and her mother enter the Commander's Offices. "W-W-What the actual buck?"
As Soarin reached the door of the office, he was startled to see Bow stepping out. Staring at each other for a moment, Soarin had a minute moment of panic as he thought the bigger stallion might somehow harbor some ill-will about the fact that in just a few moments, Soarin would be feeding Bow's wife her first load of Soarin-seed for the night. "Uh, hi Bow."
"Mr. Soarin! It's so good to see you. I hope you and Windy have a great time tonight." Stepping past Soarin, Bow leaned against Windy and nuzzled her cheek. "I hope you enjoy what we planned."
"What you planned?" Windy Whistles appreciated the nuzzling for what it was, but there was something in her sneaky husband's tone that made her whole body tingle with excitement.
"Didn't he tell you?" Soarin asked. "He and Spitfire spent most of the day planning and setting you up an extra special night."
Bow Hothoof loved the look of surprise on Windy Whistles' face. His ears twitched as the breeze shifted. "Happy anniversary, darling. Now go be a good filly for your masters."
Windy Whistles, given all the exciting things of late, had forgotten her own anniversary. Her eyes widened to saucers before she heard Soarin clear his throat.
"Give your stallion a big hug, thank him, and then get your plot inside," Soarin said.
Rushing into Bow's hug, Windy squeezed him tight and nuzzled into his neck. With one eye open, she watched Soarin saunter into the offices and leave them to it. "You're the best, Bowwie."
A shiver went through Bow Hothoof at how lucky he was to have found the perfect mare for him. "Have fun, Windy. I love you."
"I love you too." Windy Whistles nibbled along her husband's jaw before laying a lingering kiss on his lips. Fluttering her eyes closed, she relaxed and let the kiss last as long as it needed to. By the time it was done, she was ready.
Bow wanted to do a thousand things to his wife, but there was an edge he lacked to fulfill her need—which was his need as well. He wanted to see Windy Whistles taken, dominated, dealt with as a pet and a more. Despite having not a single dominant bone in his body, Bow Hothoof was satisfied he had done everything to ensure she got everything she wanted. His present, after all, would come after she was done.
Rainbow Dash couldn't hear what was going on, but clearly her dad was happy about something. "W-Wait right here, guys. I need to go check with something. Actually, run a dozen laps of the strip." She trotted after her dad and caught up to him—despite her almost waddling gait—just before he left the main cloud the academy was situated on. "Dad!"
Bow froze at the sound of his daughter. Turning around, he tried to hide his horny-for-something body language as best he could. "How's my little Wonderbolt?"
"Yeah, good. Listen, Dad, do you know what Mom and Soarin are up to? They—" Rainbow Dash said.
"It's fine." Hearing that his daughter knew of their little arrangement lifted a lot of silly weight from his chest. Bow reached out and patted Rainbow Dash on the shoulder. "We have it all worked out. I have no problem at all with my little Windy spending time with the top 'bolts. Just the thought—" He managed to catch himself in time. "It's fine. How's the baby?"
The lightning-fast shift in topic took Rainbow Dash by surprise. "Uh, still pronking on my bladder every chance they get. So, everything's cool?"
"Never better, Rainbow. Never. Better."
Author's Note
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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!
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"Maybe," Soarin said as he rubbed Windy's rump, "I should get the team doctor to undo that little pregnancy inhibitor of yours?"
Windy Whistles moaned at the idea. She'd entertained the idea of having another foal with her husband, but this was kink. In her mind, she played along with the fantasy Soarin built. "Yath, Mathta." The ring gag did a good job of making her nearly unintelligible, and she loved proving it whenever given the chance.
For Spitfire, the look in Windy's eyes were all she needed to know this was a game her pet wanted to play. Reaching for Windy's ears, Spitfire began rubbing them and petting her. "You heard that? We could have that contraceptive deactivated tonight. Anything he puts in you—even now—could get you pregnant after that."
"Are you hungry?" Spitfire watched Windy's eyes as the mare's mind worked over the question. When Windy nodded, Spitfire adjusted herself—laying on her back—and offering Windy her rump.
Stretching her tongue out of the hole the ring gag forced her mouth into, Windy pressed her lips to Spitfire's vulva and began lapping slowly. Not just experienced but well practiced too, Windy soon began to taste the reward for her efforts.
Windy trembled as Soarin pushed into her. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she moaned into Spitfire's body as she was used. A moment later, when she could think again, she returned to licking. Having watched Soarin make love to Spitfire (and Windy could certainly tell that it was love they shared), how he would go as slow as he could to maximize Spitfire's enjoyment, she could appreciate that the hard and fast rutting he did when engaging with his pet was entirely for his own enjoyment.
Grabbing a hoofful of Windy's tail, Soarin yanked it up while he ground himself into her. There was no subtlety to the sex—Soarin just wanted to get off, and wanted Windy to feel his seed inside her. To attain his first goal was simple, but to attain the second would take work .
Soarin grunted and humped like a feral horse would, slamming his hips against Windy's rump again and again until he quickly hit his end. Pulling free, Soarin brought his forehoof down on her plot in a firm smack. "She's a bit tight. Maybe I should put on one of the toys for a run or two to loosen her up a bit?"
"Or I could fuck her. She's licking like crazy—either she's thirsty or she really enjoyed that. Maybe just keep fucking her until she loosens up a bit. Pump some heat into her womb, too." Spitfire, propped up on some pillows so she could look down her body at Windy's face, smiled at the mare. "She's had a foal, she'd know what it's like for a stallion to make her swell up. Keep going until your seed takes."
Her world was narrowed to the sandwich of space between Soarin and Spitfire—it was exactly where Windy wanted to be. Soarin's weight dropped on her back, and he shoved himself back into her with practiced precision. Arching her spine, she pulled away from Spitfire long enough to groan in bliss before she lowered her snout back to her task.
"I think I'll sub too, tomorrow," Spitfire said.
"So I get two mares to play with?" Just the idea of it had Soarin bucking faster. "Two mares… I should get a chariot, rig you both up to it and train you to fly in tandem."
The fantasy of being hitched to a chariot and pulling her master around had Windy moaning while he thrust into her, emptied himself, and then got back to thrusting. Each time he finished, Soarin would run his hooves over her, and Windy knew he was tracing the lines equine tack would make.
When Soarin dismounted after an uncountable (for Windy, she was distracted) number of climaxes, Windy shook her right forehoof.
Spitfire saw the gesture and drew herself back from Windy's snout. "Bathroom?" she asked. When Windy nodded back, Spitfire grinned. "Soarin, your pet is full. Empty her out and get back to working that womb."
"I was wondering when she'd need to. She's been drinking away like a champ. Come on, pet." With a few light smacks to Windy's rump, Soarin urged her to get up.
Windy felt about as full as she had with Rainbow in her first trimester. There wasn't a big bump, but she could feel a pressure inside from what Soarin had spent there. Rising to wobbly legs, she was grateful to Soarin for helping her to the bathroom.
Huddling over the toilet, she felt essence of stallion leak from her body, almost flowing like a river as it left her in volumes she'd never dreamed of before. The sound of the shower caused her to swing her head up to see Soarin stepping in.
The shower, Windy well knew, was plenty big enough not just for two ponies, but for two excited ponies. Clenching at her pelvic floor for all she was worth, she narrowed her view on the shower (forced naturally by the blinkers restricting her sight) and walked over to it.
"Thirsty?" Soarin asked. When Windy nodded, he smiled. "Come in then."
Windy slipped into the shower and noticed Soarin held his head up and was gulping down water. The reason was obvious—replacing fluids he planned to feed her. She didn't ask—she couldn't with the gag in—so she just lowered her head, dropped to the knees of her forelegs, and inched under Soarin.
Gulping down water, Soarin let out a happy groan when his shaft was introduced to the ring of Windy's mouth. He didn't move, he let his pet set her own pace. Tilting his head down, Soarin watched as Windy wagged her short tail adorably. "Come on. All the way down. Kiss my sheath."
Her position firm, Windy leaned forward to accomplish what Soarin commanded. Her hooves slid on the tiles trying to push forward, but she got all of him into her mouth easily enough—Soarin wasn't a big stallion, but that just made taking him better.
Soarin unfolded his wings a little and stretched his neck one way then the other in a sinuous motion. Under him—around him—Windy Whistles sucked, and rocked her head. "You're mouth is almost as good as your pussy, Pet."
Windy took the words for the compliment they were. She worked her tongue around Soarin's medial ring in long, deep slurps. She could taste Soarin's arousal overwhelming the remains of Spitfire's, and then from one moment to the next he tensed. Moaning in submissive delight, she pressed her mouth forward as far as she could to ensure nothing leaked free.
Hot and delicious, Windy suckled and drank at Soarin like a foal at a teat. Each spurt of his seed into the back of her throat made her only want more as she gulped it down. When he was done, she kept suckling.
"Insatiable. You can drink other things. I'll fill a water bowl for you." Despite his words, Soarin didn't move away or try to stop Windy from renewing her efforts. His sexual activities of late had skyrocketed, and Soarin had taken it as a challenge. Pushing through lethargy and the urge to just curl up somewhere. He relaxed into the attention and passed some time cleaning his wings and fur.
"You two almost done in there?" Spitfire, wearing her strap-on, peeked her head into the bathroom and spotted her lover being serviced. "If you let her wear you out, I'm going to be cross." Her tone ran counter to her words—Spitfire rather enjoyed seeing Soarin look so focused and relaxed at the same time.
Windy Whistle's ears twitched and turned around to focus on Spitfire's voice. She would have smiled to hear her mistress speak, but with the ring gag in place—not to mention Soarin's penis—she didn't have a hope. Closing her eyes, she settled in and let herself work at him as long as he wished her to—he was her master after all.
"Just—Just making sure she's well-fed." Soarin was losing his focus, losing the control that his training had imparted. He wanted nothing better than to pin Windy down and rut her, but he knew they weren't completely done for the night.
With another mouthful, Windy felt Soarin pull back from her. Too late she realized what that would do. The rubber hood protected her fur (not that she would have minded getting more of his seed on her), but it didn't stop Soarin from finishing all over her head. Of the stallions she'd known in her life, none had his output.
"Yeah, yeah. You know I've always got more for my mare." Soarin stepped out of the shower—ignoring Windy—and walked across the floor dripping water until he got to the doorway. Leaning forward, he kissed Spitfire and put all his lust and desire for her into the affectionate gesture.
Struggling up to her hooves, Windy shook her head under the shower to wash herself clean. She continued the shake down her body until even her tail wagged. It was renewing, enjoyable, and a wonderful way to finish off her day. Her first day as a pet for a week.
Spitfire finished the kiss, pulling back from her randy stallion. "Get her dry, so we can settle in for the night. We have a long day tomorrow."
Soarin watched Spitfire turn, his eyes glued to her rump, and waited until she was out of his sight before turning back to Windy. "C'mon, pet. You heard the commander."
Laying on the bed, Spitfire had prepared what she needed for when Windy and Soarin returned. The strap-on stuck straight up—or down when she was not laying on her back—and had a pair of little locking clips at its base.
First Soarin left the bathroom, then Windy. Spitfire watched as Windy's eyes became glued to the toy. "Get your mouth over here, Pet."
Windy Whistles could see what the toy's purpose was, and she approved. Anticipating the feel of the long toy penetrating her mouth all night, she pranced across the room and climbed up on the bed.
"Clever little thing, aren't you? Get your mouth down on that." Spitfire turned her hips a little toward Windy, and smiled as her pet settled down to engulf the rubber dildo with her mouth. "It's a long one. All the way. Come on," Spitfire said, encouraging Windy, "… and there you go."
At the end of her nose, Windy watched as Spitfire used the little latches to lock her mouth onto the toy. Each click had an air of finality to it, despite readily being able to unfasten it herself. It was big, but mostly in the long sense. Windy shifted the dong around in her mouth, trying to get it to a comfortable position before Spitfire shifted her hips.
Windy's eyes widened as her head was forced to turn. She moved with her mistress' motions, turning her body and flopping to her side with her nose still snugged between Spitfire's legs. Movement behind her distracted Windy from relaxing into sleep. The feel of Soarin's hooves hitting the bed on each side of her body told Windy he wasn't done with her yet, and with her head locked in place and blinkers on she couldn't see what he was doing.
Of course, as Soarin pushed himself into her, Windy got a good idea of what was going on. But, something was different. He felt bigger, longer, and there were odd bumps down his length.
"A little something a bat found for me." Soarin ground his hips forward, and sank the toy covering his penis into Windy. With it in all the way, he held still while he unfastened the thing from his own hips. "Do you like it, Pet?"
Holding her forelegs very still, Windy Whistles couldn't nod and couldn't speak a single word, but she could moan into Spitfire's groin as she felt Soarin reverse the straps and secure them around her hips. Her body ached to be rutted, to be bred by him, but with a toy stuffed at each end she was, apparently, prepared for the night.
"Sleep well," Spitfire said.
Author's Note
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Windy Whistles woke to the feeling of her gag being removed. She was looking at Spitfire's belly fur, her head still locked in place until the straps and buckles securing her firmly to Spitfire's strap-on were released. She didn't move for several seconds, but then a hoof gently started pulling her back.
Despite her jaw feeling a little tender, Windy let out a happy sigh when the last of the rubber toy was removed from her mouth. She let Soarin manhandle her, rolling her to her belly while he removed the hood, and then all the equipment she'd been wearing.
"We're going to play a public game today. You'll both be my pets, but on the excuse of training I'm going to do exactly what I said. You'll both be lashed to a chariot as a team." Soarin was hard just thinking of what he was going to do. "You can have some kibble for breakfast. It's going to be a big day."
Spitfire woke up to the tail-end of Soarin's words. She rolled over when she realized Windy wasn't still attached and looked at the pair interacting. While Soarin rubbed Windy's ears and petted her, Spitfire realized why she liked watching Soarin play with Windy—Spitfire imagined herself in Windy's role.
It was hard for Spitfire to fully surrender to her submissive side. She didn't like being marked, and she didn't like being kept quite as tight as what Windy did, but Spitfire loved imagining herself in that role all the same. So, crawling across the bed, Spitfire nuzzled at Windy's cheek and kissed the side of her snout.
Surprised at the show of affection, Windy turned a little to look at Spitfire. She opened her mouth to ask about the kiss, but she felt Soarin unbuckle something around her hips. Her eyes widened as she realized what was still inside her. It had been a welcome, full sensation, something her body was getting so used to that waking up with a toy buried deep inside hadn't felt strange.
Flapping her wings weakly, Windy felt the cool loss of emptiness as Soarin drew the toy out of her. She mewled and whined, and when it was gone she felt the loss and emptiness intensely.
"He really pushes your buttons, doesn't he?" Spitfire felt playful and submissive, which wasn't common for her. She nuzzled at Windy, licking her fur where there was a stain of some sort, and trying to clean her up a little.
Windy was delighted by the attention now. She turned her head this way and that, and even started to lick at Spitfire's cheek when she got the chance to. Likening the attention to being like a kitten with a sibling, Windy nuzzled and turned her attention to licking back as much as she could, though she still couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness.
"Ground rules for the day, girls. You can act and speak and do everything completely normally, but my word is law. If I give you a command, or even just a suggestion, you do it." Stretching, Soarin left the two to the bedroom while he showered.
Almost at the end of his morning ablutions, two mares intruded on Soarin's washing. "You two get clean and neat, okay? You're going to be working hard today. And I want you both to work out some of the night's frustration. An orgasm each before you can leave the bathroom."
It was new territory to Spitfire. She wasn't being dominant, and she didn't have a strap-on. She looked at Windy and felt just a little out of her comfort zone, but at the same time she felt it was good to be pushed to be a little more adventurous. Normally Soarin would take care of Windy's vulva or anus orally, or Spitfire would have the mare service herself. It was so much a thing to her that she wondered if she even could.
"You first, or me?" Windy asked, seeing indecision on Spitfire's face. "Because if you want, despite Master's rule, I could bottom to you."
"I'm being silly's all. How many times have I gone under your tail without a toy?" Spitfire asked.
Windy froze at the question. "You don't."
"Exactly. Soarin's not stupid, he's noticed that. That's why he gave that command." Taking a deep breath, Spitfire tried to let her hangups slide free on the exhale. It was a meditation trick she'd picked up years earlier, and one that still worked sometimes. "So get in there, lift your tail, and tell me if I'm doing it wrong."
"Are you topping me?"
"No. We're equals today." Despite her words, Spitfire did feel higher than Windy when they were alone together. She pushed that feeling out with another exhale, and watched as Windy walked seductively into the shower.
"Then, sister, come and snuggle first. Master didn't say we had to rush—quite the opposite." Until she was in the shower itself, Windy didn't look back, but she felt other hoofsteps following hers. She turned and surprised Spitfire by kissing her.
The moment Windy's lips pressed against her own, Spitfire stiffened. She was trapped in unfamiliar territory, but the kiss lasted longer than her panic could. Fluttering her eyes closed, Spitfire relaxed into the kiss and found herself responding to Windy's advance.
Pulling her tongue back to her own mouth, drawing her lips back a little, Windy parted her lips. "Better?"
"Yeah. I just—Considering how much sex we've had, I just didn't think of myself as liking mares. I mean, I've looked at mares, but never like this." Spitfire kissed Windy back and began nuzzling down her cheek.
Tilting her head to the side to let Spitfire go at her own pace, Windy let out a happy giggle. "You looked at my little filly?"
"Crash? Everything with a pulse has looked at Crash. I didn't think anypony could keep up with her, but it turned out the secret was bridling her and yanking back on the reins a bit." Spitfire thought she knew every inch of Windy already, but as she spoke into the mare's fur, she found flesh both supple and firm, muscles that showed where Rainbow got her build from, and she also found a lot of little places that made Windy shift or squirm.
"Thunderlane is quite the stallion. When they gave us the news, I took him aside and asked him all the embarrassing questions a mother needs to. There was confiden—" Windy gasped as Spitfire's snout reached her cutie mark. Tensing for a moment, she relaxed into Spitfire's nuzzling at her sensitive flesh. "He was confident, but nervous as a wreck. He was terrified I'd tell him to take his collar and games and leave my little filly alone."
"What'd you tell him?" Spitfire nuzzled along the broad thigh, then behind it.
"I told him to hold on tight, because if he falls off this ride, nopony will save him from himself." Barely getting the words out as Spitfire closed on her, Windy Whistles let out a happy little whinny when a hesitant tongue found her vulva and slid along the length of it.
The workings of a mare's body were nothing new to Spitfire. She had one, after all. Exploring Windy's body, however, was new. She licked, and she could feel the reaction her licks had as Windy shivered, and her vulva engorged with arousal. The taste was different from the muskiness of a stallion, but Spitfire found herself not minding in the least.
"I thought it would be hard to be a mother first, but he didn't strike me as eligible. Not like you and Soarin. When either of you look at me from a dominant position, I melt. Like now." Windy moaned, the sound bubbling through her body all the way from where Spitfire was working over her. With water cascading over her fur and wings, Windy Whistles stood in the shower and gave herself over to the touch of Spitfire's tongue.
Each stroke of her tongue coaxed a new sound from Windy, and Spitfire found herself quite enjoying the role of giving pleasure. She tried to think to what the things Soarin did for her, that got her own fire stoked, and started to add the gentlest of nips to the sensitive skin of Windy's perineum.
Windy's legs almost folded at the first nibble. She became louder, more vocal, shouting her joy until a fire-colored mass of fur hit her in the face. Without hesitation, she bit down on Spitfire's tail-skirt, but nothing could stop her from making noise. As Spitfire's attention pushed her into a mind-rattling climax, Windy Whistles trembled in joy.
Licking Windy again and again as the mare shivered and shook, Spitfire couldn't stop smiling at how good it felt to give something back to her. She started to lick one last time when she felt Windy nuzzle under her own tail. Spitfire managed to get halfway along Windy's puffy sex before she felt a counter from the mare.
"My turn." Windy had an advantage over Spitfire in this department, she'd been eating out the Captain on a regular basis, and she knew her way around Spitfire's back-end. First and foremost, she knew Spitfire's clitoris was a more valid target early in play, and after just two licks she pursed her lips and sucked on the exposed flesh.
While Windy set an inferno burning under her tail, Spitfire nuzzled back. She lapped and licked, stirring Windy Whistle to more arousal more from raw enthusiasm than by careful work. Not as vocal as Windy, Spitfire nonetheless groaned and grunted happily while they saw to each other's needs. The surprise, that really shouldn't have been, was the hint of Soarin's musk that persisted still.
That Windy knew she would climax again before she could bring Spitfire to orgasm was a given, her fuse was shorter by quite some time, and more so given a warm-up. But the fact that she was quickly being pushed back to her peak didn't stop her from trying to make Spitfire sing.
Windy almost lost her focus when her second orgasm of the morning took her. She shivered and shook again, but she kept her attention on reciprocation—in both senses of the word.
Spitfire enjoyed the sounds Windy made, muffled moans and whimpers, as she climaxed while in the act of returning Spitfire's attention, but Spitfire wanted her own release. She wasn't greedy, but she had needs. Windy had had a lot of practice where Spitfire was concerned, and it meant that Spitfire was pushed more rapidly along the pleasure ride than a less familiar mare would have managed.
As the power of her own body was turned upon her, Spitfire's nerves lit up in an inferno of pleasure and lust. She cried out and clamped her mouth down around Windy's tail and shook as she lost control of everything.
"There's my sister." Windy gave Spitfire two more licks before relaxing, basking in her own glow of pleasure. While Spitfire cooled down, Windy went to work cleaning her. Each wing, her back, belly, and legs all needed attention, and they got it in spades.
The glow of climax relaxed into an afterglow that only a cozy shower with a lover could bring. Spitfire lifted her wings and each leg as Windy got to them, and only when her mane and tail were washed and rinsed did she start to snap out of the haze of happiness.
Spitfire began washing down Windy. She paid special attention to each part of her, and cataloged the musculature of Windy Whistles completely. "You've an amazing body, sister." The word felt right to use, and she liked the way it sounded on her lips and in her ears. For the day at least, they would be sisters.
It was Windy's turn to be pampered. She rolled her shoulders and hips as Spitfire soaped her up and rinsed her off. "You're one to talk. If Master's going to fit us on a tandem chariot, I'm going to have to work hard to keep up."
"Not that hard. Besides, I'll match my pace to—well—a little above yours. I want to see you stretch out." When Windy stretched under her hooves, Spitfire delivered a playful pat to her rump. "Not like that, but that is nice. Do it again."
As Windy stretched, a hoof slipped under her tail and stroked her sensitive folds. She moaned in delight and flapped her half-folded, soggy wings.
Having gotten her fair share of massages (mostly to sooth tired muscles), Spitfire knew she was reasonable at giving them herself. She turned the washing into a slow, deep cleansing that wound up with her mounted on Windy's back, rubbing her shoulders and wing muscles.
"I see you girls are enjoying yourselves." Soarin had been watching Spitfire and Windy for several minutes, and was brought to full attention by the way his fillyfriend gently humped at Windy's back end with each stroke of her hooves. In his own mind it was ballet. "Your breakfast is ready when you are, and why don't you both have another orgasm before you come out?"
Author's Note
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Soarin was just about as happy as a stallion could be. He sat at the breakfast table, sipping some juice and eating a warm muffin as Spitfire and Windy walked in. He hadn't failed to notice Spitfire's handling of Windy in the past—as Spitfire had assumed—and had set their morning routine to help her explore something new. Now he had another new thing for her to experience. "Your food's in the bowls over there."
Tracing the angle of Soarin's wing, Spitfire saw the two bowls on the floor. In them was what looked like scrambled egg, some dog kibble, and a liquid drizzled over the top she knew all too well. She opened her mouth, about to berate Soarin for the demeaning breakfast, but was passed by Windy who stuck her snout in a bowl and started eating.
"Careful. If she's as hungry as I think she is, she'll eat all yours too." Soarin beamed at Spitfire's sour look. "Better eat it all up."
That was the nail in the coffin. Spitfire knew the rule Soarin had given, so his words were as good as an order. She huffed, mind racing to come up with a list of things to do to Soarin next time she got the chance. Sticking her snout down in the bowl, Spitfire was surprised. "It's just egg white?"
"One was egg white, one I made myself. Guess you got the lucky one?" Soaring nibbled on his muffin. "Seems Windy had her own preference."
Spitfire almost felt cheated. She'd been expecting humiliating and degrading, and got a lovely pair of cooked eggs instead. The flavor wasn't bad, and did a reasonable job of hiding the bland kibble underneath. Before she knew it, she was licking the bowl clean.
"I bet that kibble makes you a bit thirsty," Soarin said.
It did and Spitfire was. She turned her head to a water bowl and saw that this was most definitely filled with Soarin's semen. Part of her recoiled at the act of degradation, while the part of her that adored him taking control leaned over to the bowl and started lapping at it.
The smell was musky enough—with her nose right up near it—but the taste was something else. She'd tasted Soarin before, of course, but there was something different about the warm liquid in the bowl that caused Spitfire to feel almost twice as humble as she had when approaching it.
"Don't drink it all. I want some of that too." Windy licked at Spitfire's cheek when she saw a little mess there, getting a hint of the refreshing drink .
Soarin waited until Spitfire pulled her snout back, licked her lips, and let Windy start drinking before he swallowed the piece of muffin he was chewing on. "Bet you can't guess who's that is."
Spitfire froze in shock. She'd assumed it was Soarin's. She looked back at the bowl, at how enthusiastically Windy was slurping up semen, and took a guess. "Thunderlane?"
"Him? Not a chance." Soarin smirked. "Okay, a game. Whoever can guess right gets to set the pace in the chariot. A wrong guess gets you wearing something naughty.
A list of stallions ran through Spitfire's head. She tried to work out who it might be. "Bow?"
Windy pulled her muzzle back from the bowl a moment. "Not him. Tasty, though. Fire Streak?"
"Close. But not it. Oh, you both know him." Soarin sipped at his juice. "If neither of you can guess, I'll just bind you both up and leave you empty all day."
"Lightning Streak?" Spitfire was working through the Wonderbolts now. She'd certainly never serviced any of her fliers—not like she had Soarin—but she knew each of them was stud enough that a lot of mares in Cloudsdale would love to have a night with them.
"Two down for Spitfire. Windy, want to try again? I'll give you a hint, he's not a Wonderbolt." The last of the semen was being chased around the bowl by Windy's tongue, Soarin could see. "There's more in the fridge for later."
Windy turned around, tongue lashing at her lips, and though of what ponies it could be. "Oh! I know!" She walked up beside Spitfire and licked her cheek. "It explains the flavor, too."
"Who?" Spitfire asked.
"Spicy Hot," Windy Whistles said.
"Bingo! And if you must know, I had to promise to pose in some photos for him, so you'd better enjoy it." Soarin reached a wing out and petted Windy on the head.
"So that sweetness wasn't just—Bat pony cum is sweet?" Spitfire stared at Soarin, then turned to look at Windy. To her surprise, Windy kissed her on the nose.
"Maybe we should have a sampling night at Spicy's store?" Windy wagged her tail as her mind ran through the details as to how it would be planned out. She had visions of tubes and masks and tight rubber running through her head, and a line out of the door of bats and pegasi.
"By the way you're drooling, I should talk to him about this?" Soarin asked.
Windy Whistles eyes widened with surprise. It was fantasy, a daydream. She gulped and nodded very slowly. "I-I-I'd need to talk to Bow. But, if you were there, I'd feel safer."
Soarin reached out to rub an ear on each of his mares' heads, and smiled at each in turn. "Good thing I'm having lunch with Bow today, then. I'll ask him if his little pet can play. Maybe Spitfire would like to take charge, and we can compare notes on bat ponies together?"
The idea made Spitfire nuzzle and rub into Soarin's hoof a little more. Though she'd do it here, cum drinking wasn't something she was that into, though it did surprise her that Soarin might be. "You really want to try that?"
"I like to try new things. Besides, seeing Spicy's face when I ask this is going to be worth it," Soarin said.
Spitfire managed a snort at the idea too. "So what's next on the agenda?"
"We're going for a walk to see Bow, and then we're doing some chariot training. But there's one little important thing first." Soarin stood up and started walking for the door. "You are both going to heel—like a pet—as we walk there."
"Is this a contest?" Spitfire couldn't help herself, she needed a competitive edge even in this.
Soarin's eyes slid to Windy. "I wasn't planning on it, but I could say that the pet who doesn't prove herself to be subservient and keep pace for the whole trip is going to get a good fucking when we meet Bow."
Eyes widening, Windy Whistles' breathing sped up, and she blinked a few times in surprise. She wasn't sure if she wanted to lose, and have her husband screw her brains out, or win and watch him bang Spitfire more. She knew Bow had a thing for Spitfire—not that he'd ever really mentioned it to her—but he'd never done more than steal looks at her. Then something occurred to her. "Wh-Who will be doing the f-fucking?"
"Me of course. You're my pets at the moment. Come on." Soarin walked to the door and stepped outside. He was delighted when a mare rushed to each side of him. "You both know how this works? I move, you keep your eyes level with my shoulder."
Spitfire nodded.
Windy nodded.
"Good girls. Come on, then." Taking the first step, Soarin was happy to see both of them walking at his sides. "It's a lovely day out today, I—Hi Spicy!"
Spicy Hot had been taking the walk of shame—not that he ever felt any, it was just the name for it. Part of him hoped neither of the Wonderbolt officers realized he was on his way from the Wonderbolt's showers. "Well, if it isn't my three favoritest ponies! How is the fun going with those special items?"
Spotting something the bat pony had obviously forgotten—a leg cuff—Soarin chose to ignore it and reply without questions as to why Spicy was walking away from Wonderbolt HQ. "Fit like a sock, and have been wonderful. I might have a proposition for you later."
"A—A proposition? For moi?" Spicy lifted one wing to his brow. "I've always waited for this day. Mother said I'd never find the perfect guy to walk me down the aisle. Soarin! I will marry you!" He leaned in, fluttering his eyes closed, and pursed his lips.
When Soarin tapped her shoulder, Spitfire perked up and let him guide her forward with his touch. She realized a moment later what he intended. This was her turn to be the submissive, and what Soarin wished was law. Stepping forward, Spitfire pressed her lips to Spicy's and thrust forward with her tongue.
Reaching out to pull his "love" into an embrace, Spicy Hot opened his eyes to see it was Spitfire and not Soarin. He tried to pull back, but Spitfire advanced as he did so and spread a wing around his neck. If there was one thing Spicy could always go weak-kneed at, it was a dominant.
Breaking the kiss to nuzzle Spicy's cheek, Spitfire worked her muzzle up to his ear and whispered, "My stallion wants to suck your cock."
Soarin watched as Spitfire let go of Spicy, and the bat fell through the clouds. "What did you say to him?"
"Nothing important. Should one of us save him?"
Peering at the hole, Windy was trying not to giggle at Spicy—who was flying slow spirals below the cloud-bank of Cloudsdale. "I think he's okay. Guess he has to focus to keep from falling through."
Pushing the clouds back together so there was no longer a hole, Spitfire shrugged and stepped back to Soarin's side. "I'm sure he'll be okay for your talk later."
Trying to regain control of the situation, Soarin cleared his throat. "Right. Come on, back on the clock, girls." He began walking again.
Spitfire scrambled, along with Windy, to regain her position at Soarin's side. She reached it just a moment after Windy—who got to his nearer side quicker. The form of submissive play she was in was both more exciting and different from her normal taste. Spitfire was used to bondage, and letting her stallion have his way with her, but this was more of a game than their normal play was.
A feeling of power bubbled away in Soarin's barrel. Two pretty mares and they'd do whatever he wanted, so long as he didn't push too far, of course. Still, he wondered about telling them to fly up to a high cloud and then spending the day screwing each until he was a worn-out mess. He would have, too, but he'd built up the day, and he wouldn't break a promise.
Windy kept having to adjust her stride thanks to Soarin turning here and there, or slowing and speeding up. He was only a little larger than her, but the longer legs meant she was working harder than she normally would to match her pace to his gait. So focused was she, that she didn't notice her own house until they'd walked right up to the front step.
As he stopped, Soarin looked to each side to make sure both his pets stopped with him. A rumble of appreciation filled his throat as he almost growled in happiness. He lifted his hoof and knocked.
Bow took a moment to reach the door. A day without his love was always rough, but he knew she was having the time of her life, and soon he would be too. "Coming!" He walked across the living room and opened the front door—then he froze.
"Hey, Bow. Mind if I bring my girls in for a bit? They're off the hook once inside." Soarin waited for Bow to nod before he walked into the house.
With what Soarin said, the moment Windy stepped inside her house she breathed a sigh and stepped closer to her shell-shocked husband. "Sorry, dear, we have a little game on and I had to do whatever Soarin said outside." She kissed him, just a little peck on the cheek.
"So, uh…" Bow had perked up a little at the attention from his wife, but he was too aware that there were games afoot, and he wasn't comfortable participating in them. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"I'm going to be honest, I guess I didn't think this bit through. I'd made a big show of telling them whichever didn't heel well enough on the walk over was going to get screwed silly, but now it's just kinda awkward." Soarin rubbed his mane back a little with a hoof.
Spitfire bopped Soarin on the shoulder with her hoof. "You ninny." Then she broke into a laugh.
"It's not that bad an idea, though." Windy Whistles looked up at Bow's face and smiled at him. "It'll just be like a nooner, snookums."
Bow froze for a moment, but when Windy nuzzled around his neck, all the tension leaked out of him. He returned the attention with interest, and even nibbled on her ear—he felt like it was their first make-out all over again. "Mmm. Alright, sugar-butt."
Completely forgetting about Soarin and Spitfire, Windy was completely focused on her husband. "This kind of thing is how we had Rainbow." Her nuzzling grew with her sexual arousal.
"Does my sexy little thing want another foal in her belly? You know that'd mean you need to remove that spell, right?" Unlike his wife, Bow was aware of Soarin and Spitfire, but his wife's attention made him just not care.
"But then I couldn't swing," Windy said, unsure if Bow was merely playing a game with her.
"Well, if you kept it to Soarin and Spitfire, at least I know our foal would be mine or of excellent stock." The truth was that Bow was confused as to why he wasn't put off about it—he actually found himself getting excited at the idea.
Windy Whistles blinked in surprise at her husband, but his nuzzles quickly broke her of her shock. "We'll talk about that later, hot-stuff." She led the way to the bedroom, tail swishing behind her.
"That was unexpected." Spitfire turned her attention from the closing bedroom door to Soarin. "Uh, so they're busy…"
"I'm not going to fuck you in Rainbow Dash's old bedroom," Soarin said, and booped Spitfire.
"What? I wasn't planning to just screw in her bedroom. On her bed would be the right place." Being commander of the Wonderbolts was more than just a job to Spitfire, it was her life, but when she was alone with Soarin she felt she could let a bit of the wild mare free. "We could try to track down that bat and talk about what you want out of him?"
Soarin could only blush. What he wanted was to be tied up and used, but he was also trying to be dominant today. "I'll tell you what I want, when I want it, and you'll give it to me." As he spoke, he watched Spitfire's eyes widen and her pose shift slightly. Her wings drooped just a little, and she bowed her snout down ever so slightly before him.
"I'll write Windy a note." Soarin searched around for paper and writing implements, scrawled a quick note, and left it on the coffee table in the living room. Just as he was ushering a subdued Spitfire out the door, he heard a loud squeal come from Windy.
Once outside, Spitfire fell in at Soarin's side. She'd been quite mostly because she hadn't realized how quickly Soarin's reprimand would shove her back into her submissive place. Her body tingled all over to be touched by him—to be controlled by him. While trotting at his side, Spitfire nuzzled Soarin's shoulder.
"So what do you think? If Windy doesn't want to do it, should we both volunteer?" Soarin asked, leading the way toward what he hoped would be an open Cloudsdale Cloppers.
"Both of us? Who would be—" Spitfire realized she was talking about very private things in public, but then realized nopony would understand either way. "Who would be on top?"
"No one, I guess. We let Spicy know a signal for 'stop the ride and let us off', and go from there I think." Riding a razor's edge between feeling dominant and submissive, Soarin turned his head to the side and watched Spitfire halt when he did. "I'm struggling to keep in this role while talking about this."
"I can't blame you. Wanna relax a bit until we catch up with Windy again?" Spitfire asked, and when Soarin nodded, she stepped out of heel and stretched her wings. "Not that I don't love doing this, but if you aren't in the right mood, it's not fun for both of us. Right?"
"Have I told you how much I love you today?" Soarin asked.
"Who cares. I want to hear it again." Spitfire walked along, both of them sharing the simple platitudes of ponies in love until they found Spicy's shop.
But the door—when tested—was not just closed, it was locked too.
"Hold on, sweeties. Your most humble servant and purveyor of perilously private poking-toys is present!" Spicy rushed up to the door and pushed his key into the lock. "You might as well come in with me—said the spider pony to his prey."
Spitfire stepped forward and past Spicy, leaned in to his ear and whispered, "More true than you might realize." She sauntered the rest of the way into the shop. She was no longer cowed or embarrassed about standing midst so many sex toys. The contents of the walls of Spicy's shop almost seemed like armor against the social norms, protecting the ponies within.
"What can I do for the second and third sexiest ponies with wings?" Spicy Hot asked once he had the lights turned on and slipped behind the front counter.
Now or never, Soarin thought. "Spicy, you have… parties?"
Spitfire watched the two stallions attempt a deadpan-off. Neither seemed to be giving ground. "You're both terrible at this! We'd like to know if you'd be okay if we, well, came to a party, or even had something in here. Suit us up and lock us up with our mouths open."
Spicy spent a moment longer looking at Soarin before he jerked a wing-claw toward Spitfire. "I like her directness more, but only because of the subject matter. I could stare into your beautiful eyes all day long, Mr. Wonderbolt." He fluttered his lashes to enhance the effect of his statement.
Feeling trepidation, Soarin took a deep breath. "We need to know we can trust you, Spicy. You've been a huge help to us—in more ways than you can probably imagine—but this is another step."
"I can imagine a lot of ways." Spicy stepped out from behind his counter and practically pranced over to the collar selection. "And I understand what you're saying. I'd be in control—that is—neither of you would be."
"Y-Yeah." Soarin turned his head to look at Spitfire, but his lover was unreadable. "I trust you, I really do, but I don't know if I can trust you with a safe word."
Selecting a slim pink collar, Spicy slipped it around his own throat but didn't fasten it. "Then as one switch to another, Soarin, buckle this up."
Author's Note
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Despite trouble getting to sleep, Spitfire slept the night through with the most wonderful dreams percolating through her subconscious. Playing with Soarin, being played with by Soarin, and now playing with others with her lover at her side all featured in Spitfire's dreams. But what had really hit her was a dream of them both being played with.
The dream heated up, and Spitfire felt her conscious mind floating a little more toward the surface. Somepony was eating her out while she sucked a bat pony's cock, but it wasn't until she climaxed that she actually jerked all the way from the dream to find she was in the midst of orgasm.
With a tongue stroking across her nether lips, Spitfire squirmed and twisted in bed as her muscles trembled and clenched. Without meaning to, Spitfire opened her mouth and cried wordlessly to the room.
As the rush of pleasure subsided, Spitfire tilted her head and looked down her body at Soarin smiling back at her. "Good morning," she said.
Soarin nuzzled his way up the expanse of yellow fur until he reached Spitfire's chin—at which point he kissed her. "Mmm-morning," he said once the kiss broke.
Spitfire pressed her forelegs against Soarin's chest and rolled him onto his back. A dominant streak filled her, and she leaned down to rub her belly against Soarin's. "Maybe my good little stallion wants to—"
Loud knocking broke the moment like a hammer. When it came a second time, both Spitfire and Soarin let out groans.
"I'll get it," Soarin said. "You smell too good to be answering doors."
Smell too good , Spitfire knew, was a result of how Soarin had woken her up. She lifted her foreleg off him and let her lover slip off the bed. The question remained now, though, as to whether she got up and had a shower or waited in bed for Soarin to return.
The restlessness from the previous night had an obvious cause in Spitfire's mind, and that was a lack of her usual flight regime. She'd been neglecting things to help take care of Windy. This thought was enough to spur her to action. "Shower first, then a morning fly to limber myself up."
Spitfire got five minutes into a shower before Soarin joined her. Another five minutes later she finally asked. "Who was it?"
"Surprise. Rainbow Dash went into labor early in the morning. Looks like we're back on duty with the newbies." Soarin used his wings to massage Spitfire's shoulders and work the coat shampoo into her fur.
"Huh." Rolling her shoulders, Spitfire smiled a little wider. "So I'll get a little more yelling in for the day."
"We'll have to let Spicy know we can't make it." Soarin felt Spitfire wilt under his touch. "Come on, it was a nice break, but we can still do fun stuff while working full time."
Spitfire's lithe physique stretched under Soarin's touch. He watched her shift and stretch each non-wing muscle one by one. "Come on."
Turning and watching Soarin walk from the shower, Spitfire turned the water off and joined him. "What're we doing?"
"It's a warm morning. We're flying." Soarin pranced out of the bathroom still dripping a little, and had Spitfire hot on his heels.
Celestia's sun shone down on them, and by the time Spitfire and Soarin's hooves reached the edge of the clouds their wings were dry. Neither hesitated for a second before leaping off the side of Cloudsdale and into the embrace of the sky.
Right away their muscles flexed and worked—and Spitfire felt right again.
Breakfast was held with the recruits, where Spitfire gave them the news about Rainbow Dash. They spent the morning putting the Wonderbolt hopefuls through their paces, and it was just as lunch called their name that they spotted a dark shape on the edge of the Wonderbolt's training field.
Soarin didn't make a point of flying too quickly, the stranger wasn't doing anything dangerous, but he did want to see who it was. As he winged his way closer, he saw that they looked odd because they had a large black umbrella.
A few ponylengths away and Soarin could tell who it was. He smiled wide and braked to a stop just before the stranger. "Spicy! Oh heck, we were supposed to let you know we couldn't make it today."
Spicy Hot twirled his parasol and batted his lashes at Soarin. "You'll have to make it up to me with a kiss." He loved the astonished look on Soarin's face so much he pursed his lips.
He was exposed, and it was the strangest request he'd ever gotten, but before he could talk himself out of it Soarin leaned forward and kissed Spicy on the lips. It was only brief, but Soarin kept his eyes open to see Spicy's excited expression. "There."
Dancing in place, Spicy twirled his parasol and swung it about. "I got a kiss!" As he swung it around, he closed the sun umbrella and pressed it down into the cloud—leaning toward Soarin over it. "What do I have to do to get another?"
"Have patience until the end of the week? Our drill sergeant is out of action and somehow she was doing the work of both Spitfire and me, and now we are worked off our hooves." Soarin felt good about the kiss. It hadn't meant anything other than being how Spicy had wanted an apology. "You might know her, R—"
"Rainbow Dash." Spicy tapped his chin with a wingtip. "Let me think. First pegasus in living memory to pull off a sonic rainboom, saved the world with her friends several times, among the first ponies since ancient times to be recognized by the crown as a poly family. That Rainbow Dash?" Spicy had the drollest look he could muster on his face. "Oh, and pregnant with what ponies are already saying will be the fastest foal on the planet."
Soarin laughed. "Yeah, that Rainbow Dash. There was no chance of getting her to stop working, so we gave her light duties—of which she did twice the workload. There is nothing on this world that can stop her."
"So the weekend?" Spicy asked, lifting his parasol and opening it again.
Nodding, Soarin turned around at the sound of his name. "Yeah. The weekend."
Spicy waited until Soaring started to take a step before smacking his flank. "If you don't come around, I'll be coming for another kiss."
Looking back over his shoulder as he walked away, Soarin couldn't believe how upbeat Spicy was about life. Somehow, he'd always imagined bat ponies to be super serious and focused on dark tasks.
"That was so—damn—hot." Spitfire spread a wing over Soarin's shoulders. "Why'd you kiss him, anyway?"
Soarin was surprised by the tone Spitfire used—hungry. "He wanted compensation for forgetting to tell him we couldn't make it today. I think we got off light—well, you did."
"Maybe I'll get him next time?" Spitfire asked, then kissed Soarin herself.
Soarin opened the door to Spicy's shop early in the day. He pushed his way inside and made room for Spitfire. "Hey, Spicy!"
Checking a particular shelf of dildos, Spicy turned and looked up at the call. A blur of yellow and orange came toward him, and next thing Spicy knew he had a pair of pegasi wings wrapped around his body and he was tilted onto his back. Staring up, he smiled wistfully at a very dominant Spitfire. "You wouldn't."
"I'm sorry for earlier in the week." Leaning down, Spitfire pressed her lips to Spicy's and pulled him upward into the embrace.
Watching as his special somepony orally assaulted Spicy, Soarin couldn't help but giggle as Spicy's wings went limp and flopped to the floor.
Pulling her tongue back from Spicy's mouth, Spitfire drew her lips back in a slow parting. "Will you forgive me?"
"I don't think I'd survive another, so I had better. What am I forgiving?" Spicy regained his senses enough to pull one wing up and use it to fan his face.
"She's sorry for using you to test a theory." Soarin walked over and bowed to Spitfire, extending his wing. "I wanted to know if she looked as hot kissing a stallion as I apparently did, the jury is still out, more tests are needed." Once Spitfire had released Spicy, Soarin pulled her into a hug and a quick kiss. "Who have you organized to come over?"
"Oh, you know, some friends. I'll also be open to the public, you know what that means." Spicy pranced his way over to the stalls and opened the door. "I hope you ate a big breakfast, because it's liquid meals for the rest of the day, my pretties."
A shiver ran down Soarin's spine. "You'll be the only one who knows it's us?"
"I'll be the only one who knows which of you is in which stall. Since you walked in here, if anyone was watching they'll know it is one of you." Spicy looked between the shocked expressions on his friends' faces. "Oh, come on! You didn't think about that at all?"
"Not really. What does—" Spitfire gulped and bit back her own words. "I'm still going to do it. Soarin?"
Soarin closed his eyes. "How would it look if word got out?" He opened his eyes again and looked at Spitfire. "I'm still in."
"You heard what Crash got up to in Ponyville with her partners." Spitfire walked to the stalls, her mind racing with her last experience in them.
"Neither of us are Element bearers, and last time I looked we hadn't saved the world." Soarin, seeing Spitfire's tail lifted, couldn't help but follow her. When he reached the stalls with Spitfire, Soarin watched Spicy fit the bridle and gag to her. "You—uh—are going to use us too?"
Spicy Hot giggled. "You ask a lot of questions. The answer, you sweet-lipped stallion, is yes. I'll make sure to use both of you several times, and I'll even pick out which of you I liked the most. Open up."
Her own mouth already forced open with a ring-gag, Spitfire watched Soarin open his own. She knew there was still the cuffs and the hood to come, but wasn't about to skip out on watching Soarin get dressed up. When Spicy had the bridle on and the gag in, and turned around to grab the cuffs, Spitfire stepped up to Soarin and pressed their mouths together.
With the ring gag in place, it was hard to form a full seal around their mouths, but Soarin didn't care. He kissed Spitfire in possibly the kinkiest way he ever had in his life, and poked his tongue forward to play with hers.
"I can't leave you two alone for five seconds!" Spicy might complain, but he didn't feel any desire to separate either of them, so he instead focused on fitting the cuffs. Once he had all eight on, and neither pony seemed inclined to break the kiss, Spicy reached for the hoods. "Who's first?"
"You went first last time," was what Soarin tried to say. With the ring gag in it came out entirely as vowels, and most of them were O. Turning his head, he faced Spicy just in time to be plunged into darkness.
Soarin could remember what Spitfire had looked like wearing the hood, and just the feel of it wrapped around him made his shaft slip free of his sheath a little. He was quite literally at Spicy's mercy, and he was still amazed how much he trusted the bat.
Locking eyes with Spicy, Spitfire leaned toward him to make putting on her own hood easier. It slipped on without a hitch, and she felt her ears tuck back into it. A few twitches from Spicy's clever wings and she knew it was fastened as tightly as Soarin's.
A tug at her bridle urged Spitfire forward. She moved with uncertain steps—trusting Spicy to lead her where she wanted to be. Just like last time her legs were strapped in, and there was even a strap securing her hood into the stall. The last limb to be secured was instead fastened to some string.
"Test it, please."
Spitfire tugged on her hoof and vaguely heard a tinkling bell chime above her.
The sound of the bell drew Soarin's attention. He was led forward by a tug on his bridle, and found himself led into the second stall. He had to lower his head a little, and was aware as Spicy fastened each of the straps that would keep him in place.
"Test it, please." Spicy waited for the second bell to chime. "Wonderful. Let me get you warmed up."
Author's Note
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A Stranger and a Compatriot
Soarin wasn't sure what he expected, but Spicy nuzzling under his tail and lapping around his anus was not it. He worried at first that Spicy would mount him, but then he remembered where he was, and more specifically what he was in—there was no way for Spicy to get on him.
As Soarin relaxed in relief at the protection the stall afforded him, Spicy pressed his tongue forward. The surprise of having the bat eating out his ass drew an excited groan from Soarin, it was something new and not as off-putting as penetrative sex. Before Soarin could get too used to Spicy's tongue, however, Spicy withdrew it.
"Okay, you hunky stallion, time for something in the other end." Rather than immediately leave the stalls, Spicy nuzzled under Spitfire's tail and gave her the same treatment he'd given Soarin. "Two happy little ponies tied up and strapped down in my shop, mouths locked open and ready for any stallion who comes to visit."
Spitfire couldn't see, could barely hear the bat, and now had her mouth forced open ready for something to be shoved into it. Under the hood her ears twitched at the sound of the doorbell. She didn't know if it was a customer or just Spicy opening the door.
The sound of hooves got closer to the stalls, and both Soarin and Spitfire wondered if it was Spicy or somepony else. Soarin felt a measure of shock as somepony clattered their way onto his stall, and he had just a moment of further shock before something shoved into his mouth.
Eyes widening under the hood, Soarin couldn't believe how it felt to just be used. The stallion on his stall was shoving himself into his mouth, and an odd sense of amazement hit Soarin at how simple this was—he was giving this pony a really great time, and it wasn't exactly hurting Soarin.
The constant motion, the hefty and hot shape shoving into his mouth over and over, Soarin was soon relaxed into his task and let the pony blow his load (not that Soarin had much choice about it) into the back of his mouth.
As quick as the stallion had started, he pulled out. Soarin was left feeling a little surprised, but there was one thing he definitely liked—as the stallion's shaft had pulled from his mouth, it had smeared his tongue with hot semen.
"This one's just about the worst blowjob I've ever had. I might as well have been sticking my dick into a hot towel."
Spitfire winced at the review of Soarin's efforts. She wanted to reassure him, to tell him it would take practice, but before she got a chance to do more than try to think of a way to do that, she had a wet, slightly flaccid shaft shoved into her mouth. Without a thought she squeezed her throat around the tip of the soft penis and rubbed the underside with her tongue. She wanted him hard, she wanted him to fill her, and she wanted to be good for—for whoever it was.
"Oh dang, but this one knows how to treat a stallion right."
Soarin's ears would have tucked back if they weren't pinned to his head by the hood, but he wasn't a Wonderbolt by giving up.
Spicy had had enough of watching his first customer of the day have all the fun. He walked up to the stall he knew Soarin was in and mounted it. It didn't take much to get Spicy hot hard, but the idea of the sexiest Wonderbolt giving him a blowjob got him there easily. He shoved forward and let out a happy little skree as he sunk into Soarin's mouth.
This shaft was different. Soarin felt the hard shape in his mouth, worked his tongue around it to investigate. It was thinner than the other stallion, but a little longer—just as he realized this it began to thrust in and out.
More serious about giving the stallion using him a good time, Soarin focused on keeping his tongue moving, and for this long and thin stallion that meant coiling it around him again and again. With the ring in his mouth he couldn't close his teeth, but by stretching he could work his lips down a little around the length.
When the stallion finished in him, Soarin felt it more as a reward than the previous time. His throat worked to swallow a familiar taste. Fruity, slightly sweet. Then it hit Soarin that this was Spicy!
The knowledge that it was his friend made things more personal despite the disconnect of the stall. Soarin warmed further to his task and began to suckle on the shaft, pulling it into his mouth when Spicy started to hump again! With each thrust Soarin challenged the bat to pull it back from him.
"Did—oh dear—did you see the new plugs I got in, Razer Wing?" Spicy's hips had a mind of their own. He'd hooked his wings low on each side of Soarin's stall and was pounding away for all he was worth. "They—They have the twist-lock on them."
Razer, having already unloaded in Spitfire's mouth, just held his hips against the opening to let the obliging mouth to keep working him over. "My little stallion will love that. Is the stallion in here up for a new master? I'd lock him up and chain him to my hips."
Spicy wasn't getting hard again, but the idea of claiming the two Wonderbolts as his own pets did stir him a little. "He's a feisty one. I'm not sure if you could handle him if he weren't all wrapped up in there."
"He's a switch?" Razer's excitement increased, and though he was flagging for the second time, he started humping again. "You know how much I love to bring a switch to their most submissive, Spicy. Why you gotta do this to me?"
"I'll be damned if I can't work out how you do that. I know another pegasus with similar recovery, but I just can't come back as quick." Spicy kept trying, though. His hips shoved his flaccid shaft in and out of Soarin's mouth, though he realized he wasn't going to be getting hard for a while and climbed down.
Soarin found himself sucking at the dong as it left his mouth, and a flick of the floppy shaft flicked saliva and left over bat spunk on his nose.
The bell behind him rang, and Spicy turned to see another of his favorite pegasi. "Oh, be still my beating heart. Miss Fleetfoot, what can I do for you, my goddess—my light from above?"
"If you're not going to let me ride your back, Spicy bat, you're not allowed to get me turned—" Fleetfoot stopped speaking as she noticed the contraption built toward the back of the shop. "What have you done now?" Though she was asking, Fleetfoot could see another pegasus humping away, and got a fairly good idea what had been done.
"I found a pair of switches who wanted to spend a whole day subby and fed stallion meat." Spicy gestured to the nearest of the stalls—the one Soarin was in—with one wing. "Grab a strap-on and get up there. I'm sure he'll love it."
Soarin could hear Spicy's side of the conversation, but not the second pony's. He shivered in anticipation at what Spicy implied—he was going to have a mare mount him and use him. It was the most demeaning thing yet given that neither of them would get much pleasure from it.
"Walking over to the stall Spicy had shown her, Fleetfoot lowered her head to peek inside. "I don't know if you can hear me—"
"He can if you talk that close." Spicy looked among his stock and picked out something he thought his friend might enjoy. "Today, Fleetfoot, you're a mighty dragon! Here to claim all cute little stallions as your hoard."
"Well, looks like our friend has chosen your fate. I've never had a dragon hoard before, I hope you like being my property." Pressing her lips to the opening, Fleetfoot breathed into the hole.
Brandishing the strap-on dragon dong like a sword, Spicy jabbed it at Fleetfoot so the mare could see it up close. "You only get to go on the ride with a purchase. This will do nicely, oh queen of stallions."
"You know, I like that title. Remind me to use it when I finally pin you to the floor." Fleetfoot grabbed up the toy and held it to her belly. "Mind doing me up?"
Enjoying sparring with Fleetfoot almost as much as Spitfire, Spicy did the three straps up and ensured the nub of the toy that ran back along the middle of Fleetfoot's flat udder and to her vulva was pressed tight against her. "Go get 'em!"
"You." Fleetfoot walked up to the gloryhole and sorely wanted to see the stallion within, but she knew that wasn't going to happen. "Are." She jumped up on the stall and shoved her hips forward. "Mine!"
Soarin trembled at the knobbly shaft pressed past his lips and into his mouth. It had nodules all over it, and he had to assume that whoever had made the toy knew their business. Despite it not being a real penis, he felt submission pour over him as he started to fellate it. The thing was longer and stranger than he'd dealt with yet, and pushed to the back of his throat. Each stroke Fleetfoot made caused him to gasp around the toy when it pulled back.
"Didn't think you Wonderbolts were this kinky, ma'am." Humping his hips still, Razer was starting to lose his stamina after the fourth climax. "Are all of you this delightful? " All that ran through the stallion's mind was if Fleetfoot would be amenable to being broken by him.
"Nah. Most of the squad is painfully straight. You should see the captain and commander sneaking around as if their getting together is the wildest thing in years. You'd never see them in here." Fleetfoot felt the toy rub along her thick folds with each stroke she made, and though she was putting on a good show, she knew her lust was rising rapidly. "But who cares, breaking-in the mouth of my newest pet is more important right now."
Spitfire listened to one of her seasoned wingmates dominate Soarin. Her mouth got another stuffing flood as the stallion in her unloaded, but rather than continue he dismounted. She tried to swallow all that he'd filled her mouth with but she couldn't get half of it down before it began leaking from her lips. A stranger's seed was leaking down her chin and coating her fur, and Spitfire loved it .
"You are mine, little pony! You belong to me! I'll break you in and break you down at the same time! Your! Body! Is! MINE!" As she shouted the last word, Fleetfoot felt the rising pleasure fountain within her. She bucked her hips wildly as the toy continued to stroke her. She didn't see the trickle of fluids along the piece that extended between her teats, but nonetheless her essence flowed along the length of the thing and coated Soarin's nose in her musk.
The toy was left in his mouth so long that Soarin had to adjust to breathing through his nose. Each breath brought him Fleetfoot's scent, and the shape in his mouth reminded him that she was in charge. After what felt like forever, the toy pulled slowly from him, and he heard her slide off the stall.
"I don't know who you are, and I don't care. You belong to me now and you know it. When I next see you, you'll wink to me, got it?" Fleetfoot waited a moment. "Got it?" She put every ounce of force in her voice.
Soarin grunted, unable to signal Fleetfoot in any other way.
"Good boy. Remember, I'll be waiting." Turning, Fleetfoot felt on fire. She strutted over to the counter while unhooking the straps from her body. "I'll take both the toy and both your boys."
"The toy is fifty bits, the boys are not for sale, Fleetfoot. The deal is I stay in control of things." All through the rough mating and dominance play, Spicy had been listening for a bell. It made him proud of the two Wonderbolts he had strapped down that neither gave in. "Besides, how would that be for all the customers I invited to the special party tonight?"
Both Spitfire and Soarin heard Spicy, and both of them shivered as to what the bat had planned. Determination mingled with submission as both became focused on ensuring they find out what was organized.
Author's Note
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Not all customers had used the stalls. Soarin had just long enough between mountings to come to terms with the fact that he loved everything about his current situation. What surprised him was how full he felt. He'd done a reasonable job catching most of the results of his work, but he could feel a wet patch extend from his mouth all the way down his neck, chest, and forelegs to the floor. He was a mess with a belly full of other stallions' semen, and he loved it.
Spitfire couldn't hear Soarin, but she did hear how much happier stallions were with his work. Every pony who used either stall got a happy end, and it left her feeling warm and happy that her special somepony had found what he wanted from all this. Meanwhile, Spitfire had learned a new appreciation for Soarin. She liked his size, she liked his stamina, and she liked him far more now she'd sampled a good cross-section of Spicy's clientele.
"How're you two colts doing in there? Hope you're playing nice with everypony, though from the customer satisfaction surveys I think that's been clarified. I've closed for now, so let me get you both out of there and ready for tonight's party." The process of extracting two happy ponies from their incarceration within the stalls was not exactly easy, but Spicy had to admit that it was interesting.
When he got her out, Spitfire looked like she'd spent hours trying to drink Equestria's biggest milkshake and failed. He left the gag in her mouth while he got Soarin out as well. Soarin was, somehow, worse than Spitfire. He looked liked he'd dived into a wading pool of semen and only gotten his front half in all the way. "You two look amazing. Now kiss before I remove those gags. I know how much you've wanted a proper kiss, but I think you'll both appreciate a little restriction before I get you fully out of there." He finished up by slipping the hoods back so each could see.
Soarin needed no more encouragement. He looked at the mess that was Spitfire and nuzzled her cheek with his own before pressing their locked-open mouths together.
Some of their shared mess tasted familiar to Spitfire, but some was new. She hadn't had exactly the same ponies Soarin had, but enough stallions had tried them both out that there was some familiarity in it. After her searching tongue traced all around the ring locked in Soarin's mouth, she wanted more—she wanted so much more. Turning, she flagged her tail to Soarin.
A little too deep in submissive joy, Soarin stared at Spitfire with passive confusion. He looked around the room as if getting on her back just didn't make sense.
"Too far down the rabbit hole, little submissive colt?" Spicy Hot asked in Soarin's ear. He'd slunk up beside the pegasus when it was obvious something was wrong. "Get on her back this second and I want you to fuck her until she collapses."
A command was exactly what Soarin needed. Rearing up, he shoved forward with all his strength and hit his mark on first contact.
Spitfire had tried to look back to see what was taking Soarin so long, but when he got on her at last she almost melted into a puddle of happiness. He wasn't going slow or being gentle, each shove rocked her body and her world.
Neither noticed when Spicy removed their gags.
Spicy Hot wasn't normally one for straight sex, but seeing the couple unite in such a way struck a chord in his indomitable spirit. Looking around his store, he spotted what he needed and quickly grabbed the naughty cheerleader outfit and pompoms.
Soarin's first climax was just the beginning. The mare under him hadn't yet begun to fold, but he was confident he could carry out his command. From one buck to the next he froze at the sight before him. There was a bat pony, sporting half an erection, wearing a Wonderbolts cheerleader's uniform, waving pompoms.
"Gimme an S! Gimme an O! Gimme a—Well, someone's giving a lot of ohhh s, but I didn't mean it like that. Gimme an A! Gimme an R! Gimme an I! Gimme an N! Put it together and what does it spell?!" Dancing along to his chant, Spicy finished by sliding along the floor and waving his pompoms at Soarin.
Spitfire shook her head. "A crazy bat?"
Rolling his eyes, Spicy gestured more emphatically at Soarin. "WHAT DOES IT SPELL?!"
"A very crazy bat." Shaking his head, Soarin dismounted Spitfire and nuzzled at her nethers.
"It worked, didn't it? You were both a little deep after that. It was either cuddle you until you woke, or give you something your submissive sides couldn't deal with." Spicy strutted around and shook his pompoms some more. "Besides, I look good in this."
"Yeah, you do. Now get the rest of this gear off me so I can clean up." Spitfire also wanted to let Soarin have another ride, but that was something she wanted to tell her lover without Spicy around. Some things, despite their recent fun, were better left to private places.
"Well, somepony appreciates my dancing." Spicy pointed to the bathroom. "Wash while I remove it or we're going to have a pile of messy tack, a messy bat pony, and two messy pegasi." Jumping forward, Spicy began dancing and shaking his butt around as he led a strange parade to the bathroom.
Soarin leaned over and kissed Spitfire's cheek. Tasting a half dozen stallions on her fur didn't bother him in the slightest, not when he could taste as many just by running his tongue around his mouth. "You had to encourage him, didn't you?"
Sticking her tongue out, Spitfire licked all along Soarin's jaw and sighed. "Might have been an odd way to spend the day, but it was also a lot of fun."
"I know a bunch of stallions and two mares who had fun, too." Spicy used a wing to hold the door open.
"Wait, two mares? Fleetfoot and Spitfire, right?" Soarin slipped through the door.
"No," Spitfire said. "I can guess that Spicy wouldn't have said it if another mare didn't come in, and I don't think it was Fleetfoot who shoved the toy in my mouth. She didn't even mount me, just fucked my mouth with the thing."
The memory of what'd happened made Spitfire shiver. She'd only recently thought about mares as something other than friends, what she'd let that pony do made all kinds of excited parts in her body clench. "I kinda liked it."
"Kinda nothing. It was great in there. I didn't have to think about flying, the academy, or even about—about anything. All I had to do was stand up and suck dick." Soarin shivered at the memories his time in the stall had given him.
"And from what the surveys said, you started off a little slow, but once you hit your stride you really gave a good blow." Spicy slipped into the bathroom after Soarin and Spitfire and opened the cleaning closet. "You two'll have to excuse me while I mop up the mess you left out there. I'm sure you can find something to do in here." He covered one side of his mouth with a wingtip. "There's a lock on the inside of the door."
Spitfire turned to watch Spicy's rump as he walked out. She looked back at Soarin and grinned wider. "He's cute, but I don't think he'd play. Besides, I like your ass better."
Soarin watched as Spitfire came at him aggressively. For a moment he was about to panic, but then his submissive side just nudged him back into surrender. When Spitfire started licking and cleaning around his face, Soarin actually giggled at the motherly attention. "W-What are you doing?"
Licking her lips, Spitfire nuzzled against Soarin's chin to get her snout into more of the mess. "Getting a taste of all the stallions you've been with. I can't believe we did that. All of that."
Countering, Soarin licked at Spitfire's neck a few times. "I know. I just—I needed to feel it like that." He settled in to licking Spitfire clean and getting his sense of taste and smell completely overwhelmed by the mess of countless stallions.
"Do you think we could do this again?" Spitfire asked between nuzzles and licks. "I mean, he has the stalls made, and we have this gear. I bet he'd be okay with us doing that again."
Soarin started giggling, and didn't stop until Spitfire bit at his ear. "What?"
"Tell me what made you laugh," Spitfire said.
"I think somepony wants to suck on his cock again." Soarin knew at least one pony did, but he was interested to hear what Spitfire would say.
"He tasted more musky than regular ponies. I wonder if that was just him or bat ponies in general?"
Soarin pulled his head back and looked at Spitfire in the eyes. Both of them were struggling not to laugh, but he knew Spitfire would hide it better. "You just want an excuse to suck bat pony cock."
"Do I need an excuse?" Spitfire was done with licking, though Soarin wasn't clean. "Would you mind finishing what you started?"
Not needing to be asked twice, Soarin reared up and landed on Spitfire's back again. This time he was in his own mind and could pace things how he wanted. Easing himself forward, Soarin's shaft sheathed into Spitfire's body like a leg in a comfortable sock. He pushed forward until his belly and thighs pressed against Spitfire's croup and rump.
Spitfire didn't care that Soarin was getting her back and wings more soiled with the mess all over his chest. When he started his long and slow thrusts—the ones she adored—she felt her pleasure jump back up and pushed back into each shove.
The sex was slow and satisfying for both ponies, though Soarin managed to completely soak Spitfire's back in anonymous stallion seed by the time she'd climaxed and he'd gone twice.
Opening the door and slipping inside, Spicy Hot rolled his eyes at what he saw. "No time for cuddling. I said a quick one and get clean. Not paint her from neck to tail in—Okay, I'll grant you that's a good look, but let's get you both cleaned up. Or do I have to get dominant and make you?"
Turning to glare at Spicy, Spitfire barked a laugh. "You couldn't be dominant if you tried, Spicy Hot."
Soarin took his cue from Spitfire and dismounted her. "Don't you hate it when the washer-bat is all talky? Get in here and scrub me down!" He strode into the shower as if he owned the place.
Spicy Hot was not one to miss an opening. "Coming, masterrrr !"
For the first time in her life Spitfire actually got to watch an expert flouncer. Spicy didn't just flounce into the shower, he flounced like nopony had ever flounced before. Spitfire was in awe for a moment, then she remembered the silly role she'd thrust them both into. "You just can't get good help these days. Make room in there."
"Would master want the deluxe treatment today?" Spicy asked as he began to lather up a scrubbing brush.
"Tell me what it is and I'll judge if he wants it." Spitfire climbed under the hot spray of the water jets and let it wash a few hours of still-damp semen from her fur.
Leaning in to Spitfire, Spicy cupped a wing around to ensure Soarin couldn't hear him. "I'm going to lick his asshole."
"Y-Yeah. Go for it. Gentle though." Spitfire used her wings to scrub herself clean while Spicy and Soarin worked on each other. Spicy hadn't gotten much mess on him, but cleaning up had left him with a few damp patches.
Judging it just like the locker showers at Wonderbolts H.Q., Soarin stuck to getting clean and helping Spicy get clean. By the time they were done, Spitfire was already walking out of the shower first. Making to join her outside, Soarin froze and his eyes widened in surprise. He'd forgotten about the deluxe treatment, and the feel of Spicy's rough tongue gliding over his anus had sent him running from the shower.
"Damn you both!" Soarin said, stifling a laugh.
"If you come back in, I promise to do it again!" Spicy Hot's tone could have melted butter. He winked at Spitfire before sticking his head out of the generous shower area. "Why—"
Soarin caught Spicy off-guard, pressing his lips to the bat pony's as soon as he'd looked out of the shower. Feeling a strong urge of dominance, Soarin shoved his tongue forward for just a moment and then broke the kiss. "Nah, I'll dry off out here."
"You're leaving me in the shower with Spitfire—alone? " Spicy waggled his eyebrows, but saw Soarin was having none of it. "Spoilsport. I guess I'll just go lick her butt."
"You'd have to get in line," Spitfire said as she stepped past Spicy and out of the shower. "Half the Wonderbolts already do that figuratively." Making liberal use of the facilities to dry off and get her hair just how she liked it, Spitfire felt completely back to herself—though the mare who spent the day in the stall sucking dick was also herself.
Spicy turned the shower off and left the stall. "I invited some friends over."
Spitfire and Soarin both froze. In the back of their minds they'd been expecting to meet some of Spicy's friends, but neither was completely sure about meeting strangers in this manner.
"Relax, both of you. I can assure you that every one of the ponies out there is just as kinky as yourselves, and have been customers and friends of mine for years. Really, this is just meeting the gang. It's not like you have to fuck any of them." Spicy shivered his damp fur and stepped to the magic drying machine.
Soarin stopped the instinctual pony panic that wanted to rise up within him with practiced effort. "We were brought up by prudes, okay? This is all—It's a little bit of a rush, but I heard how it's gotten a lot more popular since Princess Luna came out."
"That's what made me a bit more bold about—well—us." Leaning across to Soarin, Spitfire kissed his cheek, then nuzzled him a little more firmly. "And Crash. I didn't see that one coming. Somepony as wild as her? And the stories about what she and Plunder get up to…"
"Plunder? That's actually a good one for a stallion with two wives." Soarin looked at the door and took a deep breath. "Come on, Spitfire, let's show these bats what Wonderbolts are made of."
As Spitfire and Soarin opened the door, Spicy blinked at their backs. "I didn't say they were bat ponies."
The group of assembled ponies—along with Spitfire and Soarin—froze. There was just three among them that smiled and stepped forward to the revealed couple. Rainbow Dash and her parents moved toward Soarin and Spitfire.
"Mom, Dad? Uh, freaky as it was to find you both here, how do you know Spitfire and Soarin?" Rainbow was just days out of hospital, and while her stallion was minding their newborn, she was here to offer support to her friends and wingmates.
Windy, blushing a little at the focus her daughter was placing upon her, looked to Spitfire and Soarin. "Up to you. Tell her if you want."
Soarin stepped past Spitfire and right up to Windy. He drew on all his masculine dominance and stepped a little closer—invading her personal space. "Crash, your mom is our sub."
Grabbing Soarin with one wing, Spitfire dragged him back toward her. "Watch the machismo, Clipper. He's right, Crash. Blame Spicy if you have to, but she's been great for us—and I hope we've been great for her."
Rainbow Dash was still trying to get her head around the situation. She looked between her parents and her commanders. "When I told you to find somepony, I didn't mean—"
Approaching the group, and the first to recover from the shock of seeing the commander and her wing-leader step out of the bathroom as the service ponies who'd been in the shop all day, Fleetfoot tried to rescue her friend from too much embarrassment while eyeing Spitfire and Soarin to work out which one she'd mouth-fucked. "Crash, you're hardly the one to talk. Getting married to your best friend and both of you getting knocked up by the same stallion?"
With a sigh Rainbow hung her head. "You're right, Flatfoot—" she turned to her parents and her commanders, "—I guess I'm kinda an idiot for not wanting you to take my advice. I hope you have fun with each other."
Soarin was debating with himself, but realized he should be debating with Spitfire. It took just a slight twitch of his wing against her side—a gesture they'd used several times during interviews to let the other know a private talk was needed—for Spitfire to back off a few steps with him.
"What's up?" Spitfire asked.
Turning a little to keep from being overheard, Soarin focused on Spitfire. "Flatfoot. I don't know how much you heard—"
"I heard enough to know she wants to do a lot of things to you, maybe me too." Spitfire kissed Soarin's cheek. "You—and maybe what we do here—is enough for me. Is it enough for you?"
"That's a good point, you know? She can wait in line like everypony else. She wants me to wink at her, if I wasn't all puffed up and feeling my oats, I might just do it."
"Nah. Arrange for all the new trainees to do it next time she's on the field. It'll drive her nuts." Spitfire felt her own dominant side flare. "Besides, I think I rather like topping girls rather than being topped by them."
"Whaaaaaat about bats?" Spicy Hot asked, slipping up beside Spitfire. "Are cute batty boys on your to-do list?"
Spitfire looked past Spicy and into the crowd. There was a few bat ponies, but there was also a lot of ponies she knew, and several that she'd trained. "How about yes, but only if you smuggle us out of here without annoying anypony?"
Snapping one of his wings up to his brow in the worst mockery of a salute ever, Spicy Hot practically purred out, "Yes, ma'am."
Author's Note
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Watching Soarin work his art was a treat Spitfire never grew tired of. She was reclining on their bed—on her back—while Windy Whistles rocked herself forward and back onto Spitfire's latest toy. "Look at him, pet."
Windy had to turn her whole head, and only did so at Spitfire's command. The blinders on each side of her cheek limited her focus, but she could see Soarin at the bottom of the bed. He was straddling another figure, pinning them down with his belly and dominance.
"I love this bit. Look how his little bat squirms. Soarin's rock hard, I bet, and the batty can feel it. But he won't get a reward until he's been properly fitted." Spitfire purred as Soarin fitted the bridle over Spicy's head. The bit—a ring gag—pulled into Spicy's mouth and Soarin quickly tightened all the straps to lock the headgear in place. "You can climax now."
As Soain bore his weight down harder on Spicy, he forced the bat's belly to the floor and then leaned down to bite his neck. A low growl had become something he'd learned bat ponies liked to hear when submissive—or maybe it was just Spicy. Growling a little louder, his ears twitched as he heard Windy Whistles whine and moan around her gag.
On and on Windy sang, so much that Soarin knew that Spitfire had to have been keeping her on edge for quite some time. Letting go of Spicy's neck, Soarin licked the mane there as a reward for holding still. "You're next. On the bed, tail up."
Slinking up from his belly, Spicy squirmed his wings in the straps holding them at his sides. With a whine he raised his tail to the other stallion and crawled onto the bed. Under him, his shaft rubbed along the soft sheets—hard and ready—but he knew the masculine master of this bedroom had no desire to play with what he had. That suited him more than words could express.
Looping a strap around the base of Spicy's tail, Soarin pulled it forward more and secured the other end to the back of the bridle. "Head up up you'll do your tail an injury." The cascade of dark hair spilled over the bat's back and made Soarin even harder. "Swap."
"I thought you'd never offer. I'm about as lubed up as I'm going to get from this filly, you think I could hilt him in one stroke?" Spitfire asked.
Windy knew what her mistress and master wanted, and quickly climbed off Spitfire with only a little whine when the ridged member pulled from her body. The bit in her mouth kept her tongue clamped down firmly, but it didn't stop her making all kinds of happy noises.
Too ready to wait, Soarin stepped forward and across until he was over Windy. There was something powerful about being able to just grab a mare by the shoulder, roll her to her belly, and shove into her. "Grip." The command was one he knew Windy was proud to obey. She'd spent months working on her pelvic muscles, and the squeeze he gave her was a testament to her efforts. "I'm going to get rough."
For Windy, the words were a warning and a question. Rough wasn't always something she was into, but after spending almost an eternity fucking herself in Spitfire's lap, she was hot enough for anything. She nodded her head, all she'd ever need to do to give her assent to Soarin. A kiss on her neck surprised her, but then his hoof grabbed up her mane and jerked her head up.
Held, forced, fucked—Windy Whistles moaned as Soarin did exactly what he'd promised. She felt more movement start to rock the bed, and didn't need to look around (not that she could) to know Spitfire was now railing Spicy, using Windy's fluids as lubricant.
"Squeeze tighter!" Soarin's voice was a growl again, though he hadn't felt the urge to bite Windy yet. Wings gave a pony so many advantages. He could pull her head back with one hoof, brace the other to keep him upright, and still reach down and grope Windy as he drove himself in and jerked almost free of her body.
When Windy heard a new growled command from Soarin, she quickly obeyed and rolled her hips to her left side. One of his wings grabbed her right leg, while the other reached behind her belly to stroke her tight udder. He knew her too well.
"There's your voice. I could make you sing for hours just by doing—this." Soarin flicked his delicate and precise feathers over each of Windy's two teats, playing her body like an instrument. "Maybe I will. No more rutting, just gentle stroking."
For nearly five strokes of Windy's body did Soarin leave her waiting, then he began to thrust again. She moaned, her body shoved close to orgasm again. She looked down her body when Soarin let up his grip on her mane, watching him as he relentlessly bred her.
Grabbing Windy's mane again, Soarin yanked on it to make her look forward. "What are—you looking—at? You like—watching me—fuck you?" Soarin knew the answer, but he loved to see her nod her head. "Then watch. I'm not going to stop until you're carrying my foal this time."
The addition of impregnation play was all Windy needed. Her mind and body were in agreement that it was the perfect time to climax. She almost closed her eyes while she shook in Soarin's grip, but kept her vigil of him plowing into her again and again. She knew he wouldn't stop until he was ready.
"Soarin?!"
Spitfire's voice broke Soarin from his zone. He'd shoved his seed into Windy—he couldn't remember how many times—and was about to again when Spitfire's shout made him look back. Spicy Hot looked like a bat undone. His tongue hung from the side of his mouth, and both eyes were closed in submissive bliss. "What?"
"Fuck this bat's mouth. He needs a good feed." Spitfire's muscles were well trained to thrusting now. Gone were the days where she humped like a girl—each buck she delivered pushed Spicy along the bed a little, and each sharp jerk back yanked her free again.
Spicy's eyes cracked open and adjusted to the shadow under Soarin's belly. He didn't need to open his mouth—the ring bit ensured he was gaping already—but did tilt his jaw to take Soarin.
Leaning over Spicy Hot's head, Soarin got far enough forward on his first thrust to press his lips to Spitifre's. Kissing the mare that matched his spirit so perfectly, they both climaxed and drove their hips forward at the same time.
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It was a great day to be Spitfire; Soarin too, for that matter.
To understand the full awesomeness of their day, you would need to start just before Spitfire woke up. Her dreams were swirling with her favorite thing: flying. Spitfire wasn't as fast as some of the other Wonderbolts (particularly Rainbow Dash), but her speed and agility combined were unmatched.
Her aileron rolls were tighter and faster than any other, not even Rainbow Dash could match her barrel rolls, and her reflexes had saved more than one newbie from a nasty fall: Spitfire was Captain of the Wonderbolts for a reason.
But while she flew through her dreams, she started feeling her suit rubbing under her tail. It had happened before, of course, when she didn't get her suits custom-made to give her wings more room. She turned her head up, and began ascending along with her pleasure.
The dream couldn't hold her. Spitfire jerked awake, laying on her back on her huge bed, flapping her wings. The pleasure was still there, and when she tilted her head to look down her body, she saw the reason she awoke: Soarin was half off the bed, his chin just above Spitfire's dock, and his eyes were closed as he practiced his art.
Every stroke of Soarin's tongue hit spots that got Spitfire's wings flapping again, and kept them flapping. He was the only pony she had ever been with that could stop her shouting—or at least restrict her voice to inarticulate cries.
Soarin, a caring lover, kept up his efforts. He wanted Spitfire to have a particularly good day, and waking her to a good mood was just the start. Lapping along Spitfire's folds with his tongue, Soarin timed his strokes to catch her winking clitoris nearly every time it presented itself.
When Spitfire's wings flapped faster, and she lifted her voice into a shout, Soarin knew he was pushing her into an orgasm. From experience, he knew what would shove her even deeper, and turned his head a little, then bracketed her clitoris with his mouth. Soarin sucked hard, trapping the nub of flesh between his lips. Keeping his teeth well away from her most sensitive part, he gently pressed his tongue forward into contact with it.
Spitfire couldn't hold still. Her body felt locked in the moment of ecstasy, pinned in the singular moment of bliss as only her lover could inflict. She flapped her wings wildly, she squealed, screamed, and wailed, but she couldn't move her plot away from Soarin, his wings having clamped to her cheeks—over her cutie marks—to keep part of her steady.
Her lover wouldn't relent, wouldn't stop until he had wrung her dry of pleasure. Spitfire made soft whimpers between her screams of bliss, begging Soarin to let her come back down from the clouds. But he kept her there long past her ability to struggle, and Spitfire felt her mind enter a "glide." The pleasure was all encompassing, and utterly overwhelming.
Without any sense of when he actually moved his mouth away from her, Spitfire gazed at her lover's face as it grew closer. When their lips touched, the fire between her legs finally quenched. Spitfire wrapped her wings around Soarin's back, and pulled him against herself.
Inflamed by Spitfire's hungry lips on his own, Spitfire pressed himself against her body. His shaft was sandwiched, pressed between their bellies, and he felt it pulse with his heartbeat—eager to finds its home.
Clamped to Soarin like a limpet—wings and legs wrapped around him—Spitfire felt his hardness against her belly, and wanted more of it. She wanted him to fill her, to complete her, and to swell her with his fire. Spitfire's only problem was that the kiss was keeping her from telling him she needed him.
Realization dawned, after what seemed like an eternity of their lips being locked together, and Soarin would know exactly what Spitfire wanted. She felt him slide down her body again—fighting against her grip—and she knew his plan. Releasing her hold, Spitfire flapped her wings weakly at her sides as Soarin pushed forward again; pushed into her.
Flapping his wings in concert with Spitfire's, Soarin started slow. He eased into her body, spreading her vulva and vagina around his shaft. She was tight, and always needed a slow start, but Soarin was never dissatisfied with the result. Easing himself deeper, Soarin couldn't stop a little groan as his hips connected with Spitfire's rump.
When Soarin pulled back, Spitfire let out a soft whimper, but her vocalization turned into a satisfied groan when he began the dance properly. Both athletic ponies, stamina was never a problem. She rocked her body in counterpoint to his motion, pushing and pulling to maximize the length of his strokes.
Spitfire leaned down, looked at her lover working himself over her. She spotted her target; his chest. Flapping her wings in time to his thrusts, Spitfire reached both forehooves to Soarin's chest and started rubbing. The sound of his surprised groan met her ears, ensuring she knew that she hadn't lost her touch.
Each thrust robbed Soarin of a grunt, and pulled him closer to his end. He was a freight train barreling down a tunnel. With Spitfire's massage of his chest, he was pushed into a more animalistic mindset. Older parts of his modern, pony mind took control. His body became that of an animal, and Spitfire was his mate.
Powering each thrust, Soarin couldn't stop himself from being driven to the edge of a mountain of pleasure, and then plunged right into it. He became furious with his motions. Soarin had no control over the beast Spitfire had coaxed within him, not that he wanted any.
Loving nothing more than seeing her lover lose himself completely, Spitfire felt herself being shoved along the bed with the power of Soarin's bucking. Almost halfway across the bed he finally lost it. She felt his wings grab her, felt his shaft grind as deep as he could work it into her, and adored the blossom of heat inside.
Spitfire didn't hit her own peak (what would have been her second), but she was fine with that. Soarin was like a force of nature above her. His body driven by needs and hormones, but it wouldn't last. Her body feeling distinctly full, Spitfire saw the moment where Soarin's hormones stumbled, and fatigue hit him.
Back in the real world, the world where Soarin loved and cared for Spitfire with every fiber of his being, soft wings wrapped around Soarin, pulled him down against an equally soft, furry body. He was spent completely. His body had driven itself to the peak of its breeding fury, and despite his brain knowing that Spitfire wouldn't quicken, his body didn't listen.
Wings spread, Soarin flopped onto Spitfire like a deflated balloon. He let out a soft sigh every time his tightly-gripped shaft trembled inside her a little more. Vivid, orange eyes stared at him, and all Soarin could do in reply was let out a soft whimper.
Holding Soarin with her wings, Spitfire maintained eye contact with him, and started slowly stroking his mane with one hoof. They lay there, connected sensually and emotionally, while their heartbeats slowed.
Spitfire had a slow fuse, almost as slow as Soarin's was fast. Sex between them never worked unless both were willing to make compromises. Her compromise was that he would never be able to bring her to orgasm during sex itself His compromise was the need to ensure Spitfire was just as pleasured as he was, sometimes needing significant work in the process.
Despite not knowing the pleasure of climaxing from Soarin's penetration alone, Spitfire loved letting him rut her. Soarin always got so focused, so intense, that Spitfire was sure she was dealing with a monster—a very sexy monster. "Another wave of newbies coming in today."
Soarin, still recovering his senses, nodded slowly. He thought over the words again and again until they finally made sense. "Rainbow Dash should be coming to help with them. If I could, I would have gotten Princess Twilight Sparkle, too. Remember how great they were with Sky Stinger and Vapor Trail?"
Stumbling on a reply—because Soarin shifted a little inside her—Spitfire let out a soft huff. She took a few more moments to recover. "I hope none have that problem. You notice anything odd about Rainbow Dash, last time she reported in?"
With a chuckle, Soarin shifted his hips again. "You mean since Thunderlane and her—"
"Ffff. Stop that!" Spitfire's voice didn't harden at all, despite her volume rising. "I heard a bit more about that. He hooked up with Crash and Fluttershy. Two of the Element Bearers."
"I don't envy him in the slightest. Got my wings full just making one mare happy." Soarin, predictably, shifted his hips again.
When Spitfire could stop grinding her teeth to hold back her moan, she growled. "Off, vile beast. This day isn't getting any—" Her words devolved into a groan as Soarin's hips didn't just shift, they cycled. Out and back in, then again. "Fffff…" She trailed off into a happy moan as Soarin started back up.
This time, with Spitfire already worked up, Soarin had a real shot at bringing her. He hadn't tried this idea before, but the idea of taking her twice was plenty to stir him up for the repeat performance.
"S-Soarin!" Spitfire started to push Soarin, to get him off, but her resistance melted from one stroke to the next. Then he did stop.
"Are you okay?" Stopping mid coitus was not easy for a stallion, but Soarin was concerned. "I thought you might like to try—"
"Just go, you damn, naughty stallion!" To coax her partner back to motion, Spitfire rolled her hips.
Soarin took an experimental thrust, then another. "You sure you're good?" When Spitfire nodded up to him, he returned to his full pace.
Belly to belly, Spitfire was past the uncomfortably part of the repeated stimulation, and was firmly back in "fun" territory. Her pleasure rose, thrust by thrust, but she doubted her inventive partner was going to manage to get her off. She had to admit, though, this was quite the dedication.
The rutting was swifter than the previous one. Soarin had hoped Spitfire would be the more sensitive of the two of them, but it wound up being him to loose himself again.
Spitfire loved the look of absolute concentration Soarin got in the moments before climax. She wasn't close, herself, but watching her lover take such pleasure made her feel great. His face suddenly twisted, and his eyes screwed shut, and when he slammed forward, Spitfire felt another wash of his fire splash inside her.
"Full" didn't even begin to describe how Spitfire felt. She was sure Soarin had somehow hollowed her out, or turned her into a water balloon. It felt great, and Spitfire wouldn't have traded the feeling for a dozen climaxes.
"Dammit." Soarin managed to get the word out, and struggled for the breath to follow it up. "Thought I'd have gotten you off that time." He practically collapsed to the side, and pulled himself free of Spitfire. "What's it going to take?"
Spitfire had a moment of enjoying having Soarin free of her. She loved the hollow sensation of him leaving almost as much as the fullness. Then she felt something leak from her cavity and start oozing down her dock and into her tail-skirt.
Soarin had seen Spitfire move pretty fast, but not as fast as she jumped up and bolted to the bathroom. As she ran, Soarin spotted the mess leaking from her; when Spitfire had rolled over, the result of their lovemaking had been it began running down her thighs. His pride was overflowing as much as Spitfire was.
On his back, Soarin stretched out and stared up at the ceiling. "How can he please two mares?"
"Thunderlane? No idea. We totally have to give him a nickname about it, though." Spitfire had opted for a shower to deal with her problem, and was working a good lather up on her fur. "Twosies?"
"Madness!" Soarin looked down at his body and realized he was in a little bit of a mess, too. "There room in there for me?" He rolled off the side of the bed, so as not to use the covers as a rag, and began stalking in the same direction Spitfire had headed.
Spitfire made room for Soarin. "Casanova?" she asked.
"Too obvious. It's gotta be something that nopony outside the 'bolts would work out." Soarin began scrubbing at Spitfire's back legs.
The pair bantered back and forth, planning not just a suitable nickname for Thunderlane, but also the day's training for the new recruits.
Author's Note
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Soarin tilted his head a little to the side. "Just by topping you doesn't make me trust you as my top."
"But you're buckling my collar anyway?" Spicy asked, a smile slowly gaining ground at the corners of his mouth.
"You asked me to put it on, but I'm not going to top you, Spicy."
"Perfect! You understood my metaphor!" With his collar fastened, Spicy Hot took some prancing steps and showed it off to Spitfire. "You don't need a top to be submissive. You can build your own fantasy. What you need is a friend."
"I think I get it," Spitfire said. "It's like when I'm not in the mood, and no amount of Soarin being big and tough is going to get me there, but sometimes we're both just in the mood to let someone else take control."
"Kinda. Sorta. Not exactly. I'm not going to top either of you—much as I'd love to—because you wouldn't accept me in that role. So I'm not going to be any more dominant than usual when I dress you up in what you want, when I lock you up, or when I invite others to claim you," Spicy said.
Soarin thought on the distinction between the two things. His first time in this situation—with another stallion—would be odd enough for him without having a stallion be dominant too. "That makes me feel better about it, sure. What about you?"
"I can dig that, but it would have been a little more fun with a top. Maybe another time?" Spitfire looked at Spicy like a vegetarian looks at a salad.
"Foul temptress! Trying to cajole and pressure me to leave my darling!" Spicy Hot leapt to Soarin's side and wrapped his wings around Soarin's neck. "No! No I say thrice! You will never tease me away from my one true love!"
With a bat pony slumped across his back, Soarin looked beseechingly at Spitfire. "Why do you encourage him?"
"So he can have some fun groping my coltfirend," Spitfire said.
"See! See?! Even now she tempts me with the things I desire, while flaunting her blatant femininity in my face! How can a gay bat hope to survive?" Spicy said and nuzzled at the back of Soarin's neck playfully, but drew off and away from him before he could respond.
It was hard for Soarin to get mad. For all Spicy was touchy-feely, he'd never gone anyplace Soarin had been truly uncomfortable being, and Soarin had the idea that if he told the bat to stop, he would. "Alright. I trust you that far. But before I fully agree, I want a favor from you."
Spicy hadn't realized when the discussion had turned from him doing a favor to them to the other way around, but something in Soarin's tone sounded playful to him. He strutted up to a comfortable distance from Soarin. "What's th—" Spicy Hot's eyes flew open at the kiss, and stayed open when Soarin pulled back. Recovering as quickly as he could under the circumstance, Spicy tossed both his wings in the air and mock fainted to the ground.
"And now you've done it. I'm going to have to write you up for killing a bat pony. You know it's still a law, right?" Spitfire, just as she said earlier, found Soarin playing with other stallions (which only included Spicy so far) pretty exciting.
Walking over to Spicy, Spitfire leaned down and poked him with one wing. "Are you going to get up?"
"No. I have been cursed to sleep until true-love's first kiss."
"Should I kiss him again?" Even as he asked, Soarin realized he was going to. Spicy's lips hadn't been any different to any of the mares' he had kissed except for one key facet—the pony they were attached to had a penis.
Spitfire's blood was running hot at the thought of Soarin kissing Spicy again, and she made sure she was going to get a good view of it. "Just kiss him so we can get back to talking about this."
Leaning down, Soarin's right eye could trace the line of Spicy's body all the way back to where his back legs met. Between those was something that intrigued Soarin. "I'll kiss you on one condition."
Spicy Hot slowly opened one eye and looked up at Soarin.
"Open your legs a little." Soarin didn't have to ask a second time, and it seemed like Spicy didn't put up so much as a word of resistance. Looking down again, Soarin could see where the soft fur of Spicy's belly led to a sheath that bulged a little, and a pair of balls slumped behind it. Turning back to Spicy's face, Soarin was absolutely sure he was kissing a stallion this time.
Watching the way Soarin's lips touched Spicy's sent a thrill down Spitfire's spine. When Spicy lifted one wing to hook around behind Soarin's neck, she felt her motor running. It wasn't just arousing, though, it stirred her dominant side up.
Soarin was almost too busy actually enjoying the kiss to notice Spitfire pacing. Spitfire only paced, Soarin knew, when she was feeling dominant. Using one wing for support, Soarin folded his forelegs and slipped down to lie beside Spicy on the floor. Inevitably, their lips parted.
"Does she always pace like a randy griffon when she sees you kissing another stallion?" Spicy asked.
"Yes. Apparently I do. Seeing you both like that makes me want to—" Spitfire was cut off as the doorbell chimed. Her head snapped around to see Windy Whistles and Bow Hothoof (the latter looking a little flustered) walk into the shop. "… it makes me want to force you to kiss more."
Spicy, much as he hated to do it, sprang up from his position on the floor. Prancing in his new pink collar, he approached Windy and Bow. "What is it I can do for you today?"
Windy's eyes were still locked on Soarin where he lay on the floor. It took a nudge from Bow to snap her out of staring at the stallion. She refocused on Spicy, and found herself smiling. "We're with them," she said, pointing to Soarin and Spitfire.
"She means she's with them." Bow felt nervous. This wasn't the kind of place he liked spending time in, even if he had nothing against Spicy—after all, the bat pony had helped him set his wife up with Soarin and Spitfire. "I'm just here—"
"To watch? It's okay. I like to watch them too," Spicy Hot said.
Bow managed nearly three seconds before Spicy's eye waggling broke him into a guffaw of laughter. "I guess I am, but I wanted to ask you something for Windy."
Spicy tapped his chin with one hoof, looked knowingly at Soarin, Spitfire, and Windy, then back to Bow. "This is just a guess, mind you, but I think I can work this out. Your wife wanted to ask me if I'd tie her up and strap her to a glory hole for stallions to use."
Jaw dropping open, Bow Hothoof just nodded his head before snapping his mouth closed.
"It sounds really kinky when you say it like that." Soarin just tried to imagine how it would all go and had to admit that he really liked the idea of it. "So, when can we do it?"
"Well, it depends on how we're going about it. Is this going to be an all day thing in the shop, or is it going to be a private party?" Picking up a dildo, Spicy Hot lined it up against his throat and and titled his head back. He tapped at the point on his neck that the toy's tip came to. "Medium."
"All day," Spitfire said. "But maybe you could invite some friends to liven it up?"
"Wait. Why not a party first, so we can get comfortable and work out if we like it, then an all day thing later on some time?" Windy looked between Soarin and Spitfire, unsure if she should have spoken with both the ponies she bottomed to present.
Soarin moved before he thought of how awkward it might be. He'd spent enough time with Windy to know when she was hesitant about something and needed encouragement. Lifting a wing up, he rubbed at one of her ears reassuringly.
Bow watched the interaction between his wife and his wife's friend with curiosity. "Can you make it anonymous?"
"That's the point of it. Oh!" Spicy danced between his forehooves. "We could make it a game. Guess the stallion! I know a bunch of guys who will be all over this. How about next weekend?"
Guys. The word seemed heavy to Soarin. He felt a sense of finality to it. He was going to get to suck a lot of dick.
"Of course," Spicy said, "I'll need a volunteer to help me get everything set up right. Getting it all comfortable, making sure that things don't go too deep, maybe a little practice—"
"I'll help," Soarin said then blushed hotly. "I-I mean, I can—"
"You have too much work to do. But if we hit the books hard, we could both come down to help." Spitfire punched Soarin lightly in the shoulder with a hoof. "Don't for a second think you can just give it all to Rainbow to do. She's about ready to pop any day."
"W-With our little girl so near, and with what we have planned, c-could I have the rest of the week off?" Windy was nervous and worried, but again Soarin's hoof rubbed at her ear in a reassuring way that made her want to kiss him.
"That's probably a good idea, much as I'll miss you. What do you think?" Soarin looked to Spitfire.
More reluctant than her lover, Spitfire let out a little sigh. "Yeah. But this means I'm going to be extra hard on you when we start back up."
Windy loved the sound of that, and nodded happily.
The first day helping Spicy had been, for both Soarin and Spitfire, boring. Measurements were taken, Spicy checked the fit of cuffs and hoods on them both, and they went home feeling a strange sense of anti-climax.
The second day had left Soarin and Spitfire doing carpentry. A new wall was put up right beside the front counter. It hadn't seemed right until what looked like fireplaces were put into them. At least, they looked like fireplaces from behind the wall, but on the outside, with a hole in the end of them, it was obvious to Soarin and Spitfire that a pony would go in them.
Two days later they came back to find the wall and glory holes painted up and looking neat. The moment Soarin's eyes rested on the wall he felt excited.
"My two little helpers! How are you doing tonight, Captain Spitfire and General Hottie?" Spicy could see his "genera" was distracted, but smiled when Spitfire made eye contact. "What's up with him?"
"No sex until the party. We both made a promise. Kinda a build-up thing. Ya know?" Though masturbation had been allowed by their little deal, masturbation wasn't sex and didn't do enough for either of them. Spitfire was all too aware that she was holding her tail a little higher and staring at stallions longer and lower than was usually polite. She looked at Spicy and wondered how big he was fully erect.
"What? No sex? What about a little buggery? Maybe some nuzzling under the tail? Not even sucking on his balls?" With each question Spicy asked Spitfire shook her head. "This is terrible! Well, allow me to help at least one of you out."
Spitfire's mind raced with implications. She was still trying to work out if Spicy had just propositioned her when he started putting things on the counter. Collar. Cuffs. "What's this?"
Spicy Hot leaned on the counter after putting a ring gag on it. "Yours. Unless you want Soarin to go—" He let out a laughing-screech when Spitfire dove onto the things.
The sound of clattering bondage toys broke Soarin from his daze and caused him to turn around. He watched as Spitfire put the collar on first, then the leg cuffs, and then she pulled the hood up and over her own face. "Sp-Spicy, c-can you lock the door? T-To start with."
"Feeling a little randy, Soarin? Why don't you send Captain Cockgobbler here into her stall and make sure she's cozy?" Spicy walked to the door and turned the little latch to lock it, as well as turned the sign from Open to Ask.
With the ring gag hanging from the side of her mask, Spitfire practically raced Soarin into the little space between the real wall of the shop and the three stalls. "I can't believe I'm actually going to do this. Soarin, are we crazy?"
"Certifiably." Soarin leaned in and brought the cord from the forward ring-bolts back and to Spitfire's foreleg cuffs. "But it's a great way to pass the time." He did the same for the rear cords. "Gag in."
Spitfire paused for just a moment and looked down her snout at the black rubber of the hood and the gag hanging off the side of it. "I love you, Soarin." She used her wings to lift the gag up and press the wide ring into her mouth. Pulling the strap on the opposite side seated it under her teeth and caused the hood to squeeze her mouth down on it. As she fastened the buckle tight, Spitfire felt the thing practically locked in place by design.
Running a tongue around her mouth, Spitfire could feel herself drooling at the emptiness in her mouth. She could feel the padded ring pinned between her teeth, it was plenty big enough to let a stallion through. This was the part she'd been wanting, what she'd been so excited for all week. Spitfire walked forward and felt Soarin take up the slack of the cords until her hooves were beside the ring bolts and her mouth was just before the hole.
When Soarin closed the door, Spitfire was left in the dark. With her ears pinned down in the hood sounds were muted, but she could hear the sound of hooves in the room outside her little stall. Soarin and Spicy's voices were muffled, though she could hear hoofsteps getting closer.
"I've been needing this for days. I can't believe how much regular sex builds up a need for it." Soarin looked at the protrusion from the wall. It looked nothing so much as, well, a fake mare . There was padding on top, and a hole at the end—it didn't take a genius to work out how to use it.
Spitfire heard the sound of something moving against her stall, and then she saw the little bit of light through the hole before her blocked out. Her heart sped up, but it wasn't until the penis of her lover bumped into her nose—a penis she knew very well—that she knew for sure it would be Soarin. Warming to her task, Spitfire pushed forward and impaled her mouth on him.
The warmth of a mouth around his shaft was heavenly. Soarin pushed forward until the base of his shaft was at the entrance. He could feel Spitfire's mouth loosely around him, but her tongue more than made up for the difference. "Do you really think bridles are coming in as just fashion?"
"Absolutely. You didn't see all the mares swooning over the Saddle Arabian queen at the recent meeting in the Crystal Empire. Oh, she was a-maze-ing!" A Spicy spoke with Soarin, he pulled out a scroll and started scrawling on it. "Mark my words, these fashion bridles will be in by the end of the month, and who knows where it'll go from there. Maybe I'll pay a special visit to the queen of Saddle Arabia and offer her a bit and harness to go with her bridle?"
I got next
Soarin read the note and almost came immediately. This was exactly how these things worked. Whoever was in the stall was used by anypony who had a dick and a few minutes free. "I say go for it. What's life without a little fun?"
It wasn't long before Spitfire got her prize from her stallion. She knew his fuse wouldn't be long—it never was—particularly with the week of mostly abstinence. When she felt his shaft start to bulge and his tip flare in her throat, she knew it was almost time.
A rush of hot fluid poured into Spitfire's throat and directly into her belly. Gout after gout shot into her, and she felt wonderful about taking it all. When Soarin pulled back, Spitfire was ready to come out, but then a new shaft pushed in.
It could be Soarin again, Spitfire thought, so she pushed her head forward to wrap around the length. It wasn't Soarin. Soarin's tip was shaped like a bulging apple in profile, where the cock that was in her mouth had a more triangular head. She couldn't pull back, but Spitfire could pull at her back-left leg. All the others were secured to a binding post, where the back-left cord was fed up to a bell above her stall.
There was a moment of indecision as Spitfire wondered if she should. Could she suck a random pony's dick? While the thoughts percolated, the penis pushed deeper into her mouth. Screw this. This is what I wanted and why I'm here!
Spicy bit back the groan he wanted to let free when Spitfire's mouth squeezed at him. He bucked forward, thinking only of the anonymous act as anonymous—though the half-erect stallion beside him helped keep his thoughts focused on sex. "She didn't ring it."
"I owe you twenty bits then, I guess." Soarin watched as Spicy's hips pressed all the way forward before the bat pony rocked a little in place. He opened his mouth to say something else when there was knocking at the door. "What do I do?"
"See who it—ugh—is. She's good…" Spicy was fighting with himself not to unload. This was a mare, his natural enemy, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a quick victory.
Spitfire could well imagine who it was. She was strapped into a stall, sucking the dick of the gayest pony she knew—and she was loving it! Variety was the spice of life. She loved Soarin, his dick, and the way he'd worked around his stamina problem, but it was fun to have to work for her "meal" for once.
The sound of the doorbell was sharp enough that Spitfire could hear it through the dampening hood. She started to panic, but remembered again the anonymity the stall provided. Would the new pony be a stallion? Was a random pony about to get a blowjob by the captain of the Wonderbolts? Spitfire was excited to find out—so excited that she moaned around Spicy's shaft.
Thunderlane had a minor shock when he saw his squad leader open the door of the best toy shop in Cloudsdale. It took his brain a few seconds to process the fact that of course Soarin enjoyed toys, after all, Rainbow did help them get their naughty on. "H-Hi Soarin."
"Thunder. Come on in. We were just testing out a new feature of the store." Soarin looked the other stallion up and down, and wondered what it'd be like to be in one of the stalls. "Spicy found himself somepony who wanted a little special time in a gloryhole…"
"Gloryhole?" The surprise of the word had Thunderlane almost stumbling instead of walking. "I don't—" He cut out as his eyes caught sight of Spicy Hot, reared up on what looked like some kind of stallion masturbation thing, and Thunder could clearly see the bat had his dick shoved into it. "Oh."
"You want next?"
There was a moment where Thunderlane was almost tempted to jump right into that queue. The stallion of a year ago would have, but not now. "Buddy, I have two mares who'd pummel me into two broken wings if I said yes to that. Okay, only one would actually pummel me, but it'd be worse with Fluttershy." It felt good to admit that. He didn't care who it was in the stall—even if it were Spitfire he wouldn't do that. "I'm just here for a new crop."
"I'll be right—right with you!" Spicy Hot didn't want to resort to pounding to get himself off, but if Spitfire took any longer sucking him, he was going to have to take a rain check on his orgasm. He closed his eyes and thought about Soarin being in the stall. The mouth working at him took on a new light.
Almost to the point where she expected her tongue to get a cramp, Spitfire started to feel the shaft in her mouth pulse in time to the heartbeat of the stallion. Trembling in submissive glee, she worked her tongue all the way along the underside and licked his balls.
"You naughty stallion—" Spicy could hold back no longer. His body hit its peak in an avalanche of pleasure. Spreading his wings as much as room would allow, he flapped them as he started to fire his seed into the agreeable mouth wrapped around his shaft.
Recognizing the taste, Spitfire managed to smile as she let Spicy fill her mouth and throat with his hot load. She tried to gulp it down fast enough to keep up, but he was like a fire hose and creamy white seed began to dribble from her lips and mat the fur of her chin and throat.
Spicy was apparently done with her. Spitfire felt him jerk back and, just as he pulled free of her lips, her head slumped down just in time to catch a final splatter up her snout. She wasn't one for marking, but with how into this she was, wearing Spicy's scent suited her just fine.
The doorbell outside rang, and Spitfire heard more muffled sounds of talking, then of hooves approaching. This wasn't going to stop , she realized, Stallions are just going to keep wandering in and using her. A shiver ran down Spitfire's spine at the realization. Lifting her snout to the hole, she was rewarded by the sound of a male climbing on the stall and then something poking at her lips.
Spitfire couldn't fight the shaft off. With her mouth held open forcefully by the ring-gag, the penis had no trouble shoving into her snout.
"Oh, Spicy, this is divine! Who've you got in here?"
Soarin was more than a little surprised to find out that Fire Streak frequented the store. What he wondered was how the stallion would react to finding out his former commander was tucked into the stall.
"Oh, you know how it is, sometimes names completely slip away from me. They're pretty good though, right?" Spicy walked over beside the stall and banged a hoof on it. "They just suck and suck and suck."
Inside the stall, Spitfire could just barely hear Spicy's loud words. She couldn't believe how much she was trusting him with this, and he was living up to his side of the bargain. It let her relax into her role and let his last words sink into her head. Suck. Suck. Suck.
"At least tell me if it's a mare or a stallion." Fire Streak couldn't stop his hips from rocking a little—he liked to buck. "I'd be happy if it was a sweet mare with loving eyes and a gentle touch, or a strapping stallion you have bound up and helpless to do anything but suck me off." His words had a predictable effect on his erection.
Fire Streak was a grower, not a shower, and the more worked up he got and the more into it he was, the bigger he was getting in the Spitfire's mouth. When he grew to full size, she found herself struggling to take him. He'd filled Spitfire's mouth completely and she'd given up trying to suck and pleasure him. It was the most submissive act she'd ever been involved in, and she loved it. She was just a hole to the stallion, just something wet and willing to take him while he thrust away.
"They're taking a bit of work, Fire Streak"—Spicy made sure to say the stallion's name loudly—"you think they're okay in there?"
"They are or aren't. Haven't seen a mare or stallion who can do more than just take me orally. They all end up like this when I'm fully hard. You, uh, have a tap-out for them?" Fire was working his hips enough that he was giving the wooden box, and Spitfire's mouth, a good pounding.
Spicy nodded. "Uh-huh. Bell hooked up to her hoof. She can shake it, ring the bell, and I boop you on the nose."
"She's not—She's not ringing it." Fire Streak was having trouble speaking now he was getting more forceful. His hips worked at the phantom mouth with long thrusts now. "I came in for—for a new plug."
"Something big, or something long?" Spicy Hot was a little hypnotized by the powerful stallion's thrusts. In the wonderful places of his mind he filed the image away for some alone time later. "Or something that locks?"
"Locks? I like the sound of that. My little stallion needs a new—new collar too, but while that's getting made a locking plug would be a great way to remind him he is owned." Fire Streak was getting his second wind. He had a lot of stamina and was putting it to good use.
Spitfire's mind reeled. They were talking about such normal things. While they chatted, she had her mouth stuffed with one of her former squadmate's cocks—and she loved it. He didn't know it was her, he treated her just like he treated any gift for the taking. He took it—he took her .
Looking through the crops, Thunderlane noticed Soarin keep looking back at the other stallions. Gears turned over and wheels clicked into place in his head. "Captain?"
"Huh?" Soarin was snapped back to watching Thunderlane browsing for crops. "Sorry, what?"
"It's, ahem, Spitfire." Thunderlane's voice was low, pitched well below the other two ponies' conversation. "Right? I heard from Rainbow you were both switches, and she said you were stepping up to more exciting stuff, but this…?"
"Is a warm up. A test." Soarin loved the look of shock on Thunderlane's face. "Come on, man. Tell me you haven't ever wanted to just give in and let somepony else take control?"
Thunderlane shook his head. "No, buddy, that's just a sub thing. Putting ponies into such a box might have done it, but now I have two mares who I'm not going to disappoint. Ya know?"
"Yeah, I get you I think. When I'm in the mood to take charge, I don't like these kinds of things. But…" Soarin watched as Fire Streak pounded away. In the back of his mind he hoped fervently that the stallion would need to come back when it was his turn in the stall. "I really want my turn."
"Seriously into this, aren't you?" Thunderlane didn't need a reply to know he was right. Soarin's eyes were glued on the scene across the store. "Don't know if I'd like to get that friendly with another stallion. I'm kinda a mare's stallion, you know?"
"Well, yeah. I don't like any butt stuff, but damn I wanna try that." Soarin nodded toward the stalls. "And I'm going to get my chance."
Soarin jumped as something stung him on the rump. He spun around to see what it was, only to see Thunderlane holding a crop and looking at him with a big grin. "Why'd you do that?"
"Just showing you the closest I'll ever get to another stallion." Thunderlane liked the heft of the crop, but wanted another test to be sure. "Hold still."
"What? Wa—" The crop connected with Soarin's flank again, this time landing exactly beside the first hit. "Damn it. Stop that."
"Yes, sir." Thunderlane weighed the crop in his wing expertly. "I think I'll take this one. Good weight, and I can see it definitely has the desired result. Why don't we see how the cap's going?"
"Hold on. This is anonymous. You can't say who it is. You can't tell Fire Streak who's sucking his dick." Soarin looked back in time to see the stallion in question speed up to a furious pace. "Shit…"
"That sounded like a shit, I can't believe that's so hot kinda 'shit' if ever I heard one." Thunderlane turned away from the shelf to look at the little spectacle. "Oh shit…"
Fire Streak was so close to his end he could just about feel it. His hips were basically on automatic. The stall under him felt enough like a mare that his body treated it as one. Words were beyond him as he hammered himself into Spitfire—not that he knew it was his former captain under him.
Spitfire had to brace herself forward. The driving thrusts of the huge shaft were making it impossible for her to breathe normally—each time he pulled back she gasped out and in, then she held her breath when he shoved forward again. The pattern of breathing had been easier when he'd been screwing her mouth slowly, but now she fought for each breath between fast, rough thrusts.
From one gasped breath to the next, Spitfire was made into a receptacle for Fire Streak's seed. He shoved into her mouth hard enough that his tip nudged the back of her throat. The sensation of something pouring down her throat made Spitfire's eyes widen as she was force-fed the stallion's semen at a rapid rate.
Jerking backwards, Spitfire felt the grip of the straps that held her in place. For a moment she was about to kick her hoof and ring the bell when the stallion pulled back. Air rushed in through her nostrils, giving her what she needed to hold back from tapping out. But the stallion wasn't done. One. Two. Three more blasts from his shaft splattered into Spitfire's mane, face, and her chest. She'd only had the sense to turn her nose aside and close her eyes at the last second.
Soarin's head snapped around when the doorbell rang again. He'd been intending to take his turn on the stall again, but the sight of a pair of bat ponies entering the store almost made his legs wobble. They were both stallions. He turned and looked at Spicy with a pleading expression, but the bat shook his head.
"Gentleponies, I believe we have concluded our testing of our newest attraction. The pony within will be cleaned off, fed something a little more solid, and returned to their place tomorrow." Spicy hot bowed to those assembled. "For the whole day, too. And did I mention we'll have another two? Both stalls will be operating constantly."
Inside the stall, Spitfire heard the declaration and couldn't believe the whine she made. She wanted more, dammit, and yet she trusted Spicy to cut things short. The revelation that she trusted the craziest pony she'd ever met—in that way—was just a little affirming. Even with the ring gag, she managed to get out what sounded like, "I need a shower."
Author's Note
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