Harmony University: Riding the Storm

“So uh, are you gonna explain the pee?” asked Cyclone, whose voice was somewhat muffled and slurred by Bluefeather's grey feet which were still planted firmly on her face, “You're pretty chill with it on your face,” she pointed out as she nuzzled those sexy feet.

Giggling, Bluefeather rubbed her soles over her girlfriend’s face, smooshing her cheeks and her nose between her toes and the balls of her feet. “I knew the risks going in that you wouldn't have good bladder control. I'm not going to do you wearing a nappy, so I decided it didn't matter if you pissed on me or not. When we did nappy play, you never really used them, well that will change too!”

“And you have the sexiest feet I've ever seen,” Cyclone planted several wet kisses all over Bluefeather’s feet, worshipping her arches and her toes, before she let out a nervous giggle, “I've kinda wanted to try kissing them for ages, but I chickened out before.”

Bluefeather adjusted her position and laid alongside her girlfriend on the bed, “I think I'll stay from your groin up myself. It’s a good thing my feet aren't ticklish…”

“So...you don't think it's weird?”

Considering that for a moment, Bluefeather took careful note of the fragility and vulnerability in Cyclone’s voice. It wasn’t often her brat showed that side of herself, so she knew to handle it with care. “You, love,” she said carefully, “Are weird, then I'm weird, so I guess we're normal?” she finished her point by hugging Cyclone tightly.

“I'll go with that,” Cyclone hugged Bluefeather to her and she kissed her lips, “The past month taught me not to hold back on stuff, cos life is short and shit happens.”

Laughing at her lover’s rather crass philosophical view on life, Bluefeather found herself agreeing with her, at least in spirit if not in the exact wording, “And I'll clean that up to. No issues.”

Smirking, Cyclone playfully booped Bluefeather's nose, “I didn't mean that kind of shit,” then, with a dawning realisation, she got the joke, “You know what I mean.”

Again, Bluefeather laughed, because she swore she could see the gears turning in Cyclone’s head as she got her joke. “I do know what you meant, but it was funny when I said it.”

“So um, if you want,” Cyclone started nervously, her blue eyes looking everywhere in her room except at the teenager laid beside her, “I'd love to do that with your feet again. If you wanted to. And uh...what you did was cool too.”

The sheer nervousness and open vulnerability that Cyclone was presenting to her made Bluefeather’s heart melt. It was so adorable to see. “You mean making my hand disappear?”

“Better than one of Trixie's magic tricks,” Cyclone tried to cover her nerves with a joke and a giggle, “I’ve never been fisted before.”

“You've never had this ease of access before,” countered Bluefeather, making the very good point. “I love you, Cy, and I'm going to use what you have to the best of both our worlds.”

“Well, I can't argue that. I know you mentioned doing it a while back,” Cyclone admitted with a blush, “And I kinda shut it down. I’m glad you did it now though, it felt amazing!”

“Experiences change,” Bluefeather said with a wisdom beyond her years, “And I'll change to make sure you still experience all of me. So, I think I'll let you have my toes,” she leant in and whispered in her girlfriend’s ear, “If you're a good girl.”

“I can be a good girl!” instantly, Cyclone caught the sceptical look on Bluefeather's face, “I can! Well...maybe less of a brat, any way…”

A grey finger on her lips silenced Cyclone. “Don't change for me, my lovely brat.” Then, she gave voice to a thing that had occurred to her during the incredibly hot sex she had just had, “Would you like me to be a disciplining nanny?”

That made Cyclone think. As much as she ever thought about anything. She thought about how dominant Bluefeather had been while she had been rubbing her feet over her face. She immediately decided she wanted more of that. “I would very much love you to be a disciplining nanny.”

“I thought you might,” Bluefeather smirked knowingly, able to read her girlfriend like an open book, “True Heart said she kept a firm hand and you stayed focused.”

That sounded like True Heart to Cyclone. “So the camp commandant hired a helper, huh?” the black skinned teenager giggled, “We'll have to get you a uniform from the MiAC store.”

Bluefeather was down with that, though probably not the visit to the mall, “Leather is very fashionable.”

“So...here's an idea,” started Cyclone, “You want to get a shower, get dressed and take a walk to the mall?”

Quickly, almost too quickly, Bluefeather shook her head. “This is your first day home. I'm sure your parents know you're alive. Enjoy exploring the home built for you. And pass that driving class. Your car is way cooler than mine.” All that said, Bluefeather really didn’t want to take Cyclone back to the mall yet. Too soon.

“You're right,” Cyclone didn’t want to argue with her, “It probably is too soon. I was thinking of the whole 'get back on the horse' thing. I totally wasn't thinking about Exploding Ninja Pirates From Outer Space 4, at all…”

A roll of her eyes from Bluefeather said she didn’t believe her. That dumb franchise was the other thing she was forced to endure, as well as Power Ponies. “If we walk out like this is your dad going to take pictures?” way to change the subject!

“Well...he said he doesn't want me in the magazine,” pondered Cyclone out loud, more to herself than to her girlfriend, “But I wouldn't put it past him to take pictures for our benefit.”

“Pfft,” Bluefeather snorted dismissively, “Bathrobes for the both of us. If we want pictures for us, I’ll let him take them.”

Again, Cyclone wasn’t about to argue with her, “Bathrobes it is, babes.”

“Bathrobe for me, you can do as you please,” Bluefeather hopped off the bed and slipped on a spare bathrobe hanging off the back of the door and she waited for Cyclone to catch her up, “You are the exhibitionist.”

“When you look this hot, it’s a shame to cover it up,” Cyclone responded as she slid herself off the bed and into her chair, a move she was getting really good at now. Before she opened the bedroom door though, Bluefeather instead opened the adjacent bathroom door like she was a professional doormen as she wanted to see Cyclone’s reaction.

“Thank you, babes,” Cyclone wheeled herself across her bedroom to the open door and she was immediately impressed, “Wow!”

What greeted her was a wall mounted sink, which was lower than normal with no vanity underneath so that a wheelchair could roll right up to it. There was a standard toilet/bidet with rails, and a walk in tub/jacuzzi that had a mesh seat at the foot of the tub inside it and a rail for the seat along the foot and back side of the tub to make easy reach of the shower head and controls.

Cyclone wheeled herself inside and her head was on a swivel trying to look at everything all at once. “I'll say again, wow! Look at all this!” she moved herself under the sink and looked around the walk in tub.

“Everything’s designed for independence,” commented Bluefeather, “But since I'm here I'm going to clean you up before we venture back out into the house. Shower or bath?”

About to ask why she wanted to clean her, Cyclone caught a whiff of herself and she knew why. They both stank of sex and sweat, though she reeked a great deal more. “I would love a real proper bath.”

“You can open the door for easier access, unless you’re comfortable to use the rails to go over the side,” explained Bluefeather as she removed her robe and hung it on the back of the bathroom door.

Expertly, Cyclone parked herself up at the side of the tub and, “Watch this!” she used the hand rails to get in over the side with a sigh of relief. The last time she said 'watch this' she had tripped in a race and ate track, coming in stone dead last.

As soon as she was in the tub, Bluefeather held up a bottle of bubble bath soap in the shape of a Power Pony, because of course Cyclone’s things were Power Pony shaped. “Look, I’ve got Mr. Bubbles!” she had no idea who the character was, “Get the water started.”

“Yes ma'am, you know I love me some bubbles!” Cyclone giggled and she quickly got the hot water running. While she did that, Bluefeather added a good amount of bubble bath and she set up some towels. She then got in with her. “Now this, I missed,” the black skinned girl snuggled up to her lover, “Bath times just weren't the same with a nurse who's as wide as she is tall and solid muscle too.”

Giggling, Bluefeather was only too happy to snuggle up to Cyclone in the hot bubbly water. She had missed this, too, not just the physical sex, although that was awesome, she missed this, too, just being with the girl she loved. “So, you want me to get a sponge?”

“I do want you to get a sponge,” having said that though, Cyclone didn’t let her go. While she lacked the ability to say just how much she had missed just being with Bluefeather, now she was there in the bath, she wanted to hold her forever.

Luckily, Bluefeather was fluent in ‘Cy Body Language’, and she knew just what the iron hard grip on her meant.

~ ~ ~

“Dinner's ready!” Monsoon shouted up from the kitchen just over a couple of hours after Cyclone and Bluefeather’s bath had concluded. She had of course asked the teenager to stay, and she had been overjoyed when she had agreed.

Bluefeather was too eager to stay for dinner. Not only did she want to spend more time with Cyclone, but Monsoon was an excellent cook, and she wasn’t about to pass that up. “Hey,” she nudged Cyclone on the bed, “You wanna race down the stairs?”

“You’re on!” Cyclone, who was at last dressed in her denim shorts and a loose tee – not her idea, Bluefeather had ‘suggested’ she wear at least something – slid herself from her bed and into her chair, where she wheeled herself to the chair lift. “On three!”

On three it was. The race began with Cyclone setting off the chair, then Bluefeather ‘raced’ her down the stairs walking backwards keeping pace with her, but right at the bottom, just before the end, she jumped off and won. While the chair was still reaching the end, Bluefeather was dancing a victory dance and waiting to see how Cyclone would react.

Cyclone, who did not like to lose at anything, even games of Snakes and Ladders, sat wide eyed at the apparent betrayal. Then, seeing the happy look of victory on her girlfriend’s face, she blinked once then twice, then she grinned. “Nicely won, babes!”

Smiling a smile a mile wide, Bluefeather hugged Cyclone tight. “When you're on the short track, your teammates will be doing that to you. You going to be okay with that?” she asked, though she fancied she knew the answer to that. It wasn’t that long ago that Cyclone would have had a ten minute meltdown at losing like that.

“Yeah,” Cyclone disengaged herself from the lift and she sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. That old familiar burning tantrum feeling was bubbling in her gut, but somehow, for some reason, she didn’t let it go like she would have before. “I mean, it'll sting, sure, but, I'll be fine.”

Bluefeather could see the fight in her girlfriend’s eyes, and she gave her a kiss to show how proud she was of her growth. “Captain Dash told me and she'll tell you. She going to turn you into a distance racer,” appreciatively, she ran her hands along Cyclone's developing biceps and triceps, “You'll need to keep working on these beauties.”

Cyclone flushed hard at Bluefeather groping her arms, “We-Well....I-I um...” she stammered, “I've never been one for greater distances than eight hundred metres, but there is the five thousand and the ten thousand metre races.”

“Time will tell,” Bluefeather affectionately stroked her fingers over the black muscle, “But I'll always believe in you.”

“I believe in you fondling my arms…” Cyclone couldn’t resist, and predictably Bluefeather blushed at being called out like that.

“Brat.” Bluefeather shrugged, trying to play it off, “Jocks, gotta love them when they’re as cute as you.”

Making their way through the house to the dining room, Cyclone found that her spot at the table was a small platform with a ramp that put her at just the right height and the others were in chairs. Bluefeather of course was sat next to Cyclone, as Monsoon and Tropical Storm bought out platter after platter to feed them. “Oh, steak, that looks good, ma'am.”

“Food!” Cyclone clapped her hands at the arrival of trays full of hot steaming food. She wondered briefly why her mom and dad were doing it, then she just assumed the staff had been given the night off. “Real actual food! And it's not in a tiny white tray!”

“Sorry,” grinned Tropical Storm mischievously, “We only have placemats. I hope you'll still be able to eat without a white tray.” That earned him a very noisy eye roll from Monsoon and a giggle from Bluefeather.

“Ha, ha, dad, very funny,” Cyclone looked around like she expected True Heart to appear from a side room and start feeding her like she had done in the hospital, “Mom, food me up.” After a moment of nothing being done and no movement taking place, she added, “Please.”

When Cyclone said the magic word, Monsoon happily served up a generous helping of baked sweet potatoes, slices of medium rare steak and a ladle of cheesy broccoli on the plate. Not only did she serve her daughter but Bluefeather and Tropical Storm as well. “We may need to do something about soundproofing the rooms, Storm.”

“You know what,” there was a cheeky glint in the man’s eyes, “I think you’re right, my love, we don’t want the neighbours complaining about the noise.” The deep blush that adorned Bluefeather’s cheeks was utterly adorable.

Cyclone laughed, for the closest ‘neighbours’ were half a block away, “Come on, dad, you can’t blame Blue for being loud when she rides 'this' storm!”

While Monsoon and Tropical Storm both laughed, poor Bluefeather blushed harder until her grey face was almost completely bright red. “Dig in, you two,” she beamed affectionately, particularly to Bluefeather, “Or I'll think you don't like my cooking.”

As soon as her mother said that, Cyclone began to eat like she had been starved on a desert island for a month. Bluefeather ate at a rather more refined pace than Cyclone, who was shovelling in the food like an excavator. “I think I need to up my game,” Tropical Storm grinned, “It’s easier to tease my daughter's girlfriend than it is to tease her.”

Monsoon not only rolled her eyes, but she also shook her head this time too. “Some things never change.”

Looking for any chance she could to get the attention away from herself, Bluefeather said, “You wouldn't think she'd been fed at the hospital, would you?” she giggled, but still blushed while the oblivious Cyclone hoovered her food down.

The good food was followed by and even better chocolate mousse for dessert. Once she was all done, Cyclone let loose with a window shaking burp that was her judgment on the meal. “Excuse me!” she giggled, completely unashamed.

In a stark contrast, Bluefeather daintily placed her spoon into her empty bowl, “I do believe that is the Cy seal of approval.”

“Do you need a ride home Blue?” asked Tropical Storm as he and his wife began to clear away the empty dishes.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I could let my folks know I'm spending the night?”

Tropical Storm and Monsoon both shared a look and a nod between them. “One less thing to worry about,” he agreed, seeing no problem with her staying over.

“That just means you can work without interruption, Storm,” commented Monsoon over her shoulder as she carried away an armful of empty bowls and spoons to the kitchen.

After she had wiped her face clean on a napkin, “What are you working on, dad?”

“I’m finalising a spread for the next Playcolt edition called Bondage Babes of Kappa Alpha Theta,” explained Tropical Storm, “I’m using stills taken from the DVD we shot over the last week.”

Monsoon poked her head around the kitchen door frame. “He’s only using that title because I was a member of the KAT house.” By way of explanation, her husband just smiled in his seat.

“But were you a bondage babe, mom?” smirked Cyclone, asking the important question of her mother.

“No dear, I’m afraid not,” called Monsoon from the kitchen where she had loaded the dirty dinner dishes into the dishwasher, “I had other more pressing activities at college.”

“I have the pictures to prove it...” Tropical Storm didn’t elaborate further because his wife had silenced him with the ‘Wife Glare’. Instead, wisely, he chose to help her clean up in the kitchen.

Even Cyclone, dense as she was, recognised 'that' glare. “Oookay...moving on, bondage is that thing you do with the collars and whips, right?”

Monsoon decided to let her husband carry on cleaning everything away in the kitchen while she went back to the dining room. “Do you know what BDSM stands for?” she asked as she sat back down at the table.

“I do!” Bluefeather thrust her hand up like she was in class and the teacher had called on her to answer a nastily hard question, “It stands for Bondage and Discipline, Sadism and Masochism.”

Cyclone blinked dumbfoundedly at Bluefeather, her mouth hanging open like she was going to say something and it got stolen away from her on the way from her brain to her lips. “I-Is that really what it means?”

“You’re close,” Monsoon corrected her gently, “It’s three things, each a pair of letters. The first has nothing to do with collars and whips, the last has to do with whips. The middle is collars. It really means Bondage and Discipline, Domination and Submission, Sadism and Masochism.”

“Hmm,” Bluefeather pondered that, “I guess it’s easier saying BDSM than saying BDDSSM,” she said with a giggle in her voice.

Again, Cyclone stared at her girlfriend like she had three heads. “How do you know that, Blue?” Three heads and she was suddenly bright pink. “Hey, dad,” she called to the kitchen, “Are the people you shoot really into it, or like, they say they are for the pay check? Or can you even tell the difference? Does it even matter?”

“A bit of both,” he replied, along with several clanks and bangs that was him wrestling with the dishwasher, “But all of them are in my line of work for a pay check, Cy.”

“Because you find romance novels dull, you brat.”

Monsoon gazed at Bluefeather like she was seeing her for the first time, “You read Woodiwiss?”

“Oh yeah!”

With the enthusiasm in Bluefeather and her mother’s voice, Cyclone couldn’t help but feel invisible all of a sudden. Guessing she wouldn’t be missed, she wheeled herself into the kitchen. She needed to talk to her dad. “So huh, that discipline, the uh, dominance and submission, that's normal, right dad?” she asked awkwardly, “Suppose someone had ideas about it, just suppose...”

Tropical Storm, who was busy scrubbing the dishes that were too dirty to go straight into the dishwasher, turned to his daughter. “Normal is a point of view. Fantasies are normal. Everyone has them, Cy.” Her body language gave away her blush, “Acting out the fantasy can, or cannot, be normal. Forcing your fantasy on another is not normal. Sharing with another is. Do you have a fantasy you want to share with someone, or just force it down their throat?”

“I'm a jock, not an idiot, dad.” Cyclone replied defensively, “It's one I want to share, it's just...well, I didn't know I felt this way about this till earlier, like a few hours earlier.”

Smiling, Tropical Storm handed the dishes to Cyclone to put in the dishwasher. “I hope it's not leg wrestling.”

“Oh ha de ha, Captain Funny, not…” she started to load the dishwasher, “It's not leg wrestling, genius, it's Blue.”

“Duh.”

“Yeah,” Cyclone rubbed the back of her head and found literally anything in the kitchen more interesting that looking at her dad, “Well um, namely Blue dominating and disciplining me.”

Recognising his daughter was being completely genuine and vulnerable, Tropical Storm nodded, deciding not to tease her, for once. “If you go that way, you need to be very clear in what you expect, want, and desire. Then make sure you tell that to Blue.”

Quietly, Cyclone considered that. It was what she wanted, but was it what Bluefeather wanted? Once the washer was loaded, she decided there was no time like the present. “Hey babes, are you ready to go up?”

When no response came from the dining room, Tropical Storm asked, “What nefarious activity were they up to when you left?”

“Talking about boring books with no pictures in them,” Cyclone answered with a disinterested shrug, “I figured it was egghead stuff, that's why I came to talk to you.”

“Trust me, Monsoon was never into egghead books.”

“Mom mentioned someone called Woodiwiss,” another shrug came from Cyclone, “You know me dad, if it's not comics, I assume the worst.”

With a deep sigh, Tropical Storm facepalmed, “Oh gods, bodice rippers. Those novels are so cheesy they make our scripts look good,” he started laughing, “Now you need to find out if Blue wants to dominate or be dominated.”

“Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do, dad. Now uh,” she asked, trying not to be awkward in it, “Should I be tactful about it, or should I be me?”

“Be you, but not in the dining room. She is staying the night.”

“I was going to wait till we were upstairs, dad.”

“You? Reserved?” Tropical Storm laughed at the totally adorable pout on his daughter’s face. “Come on, let's save your girlfriend from your mom,” he grabbed a blunt butter knife. “Just follow my lead.”

“Yes, me!” Cyclone raspberried her dad and she wheeled herself after him back into the dining room.

As he left the kitchen, Tropical Storm began to monolog like he was on a Saturday morning cartoon, “The villain saunters into the room twirling his moustache. What is this? Monsoon, how dare I find you courting this harlot! The villain pulls out a knife!” he brandished the butter knife like it was a longsword. “That bodice you are wearing looks far to uncomfortable. Allow me to release you of that!”

“No, it is not what it seems,” Monsoon quickly stood up and declared just as overdramatically as her husband, “Spare me!” she fled from the dining room giggling with him in hot pursuit.

Left sat in her seat, Bluefeather wore an amused look on her face as surely as she wore her knee length skirt and her shirt. “I rather like your parents, Cy.”

Shaking her head, Cyclone giggled, because she could still hear her parents running around the mansion playing their game. “And people think I'm immature. They never wonder where I get it from.”

Giggling along, Bluefeather added, “It was fun talking to your mom about things you wouldn't do.”

“Like what?”

Bluefeather’s giggles gave way to a bright smile, like a spider who had caught her latest prey. “Reading without pictures.”

Cyclone pouted, realising that she had wheeled herself right into that. “Fine, you got me there. So uh, you ready to go upstairs, babes?” she was ready, she just hoped she was able to actually talk to her properly and not mess it all up. She was very good at that.

Smirking, Bluefeather put the back of her hand across her forehead in a very good imitation of Monsoon, “That dreadful villain called me a harlot! I fear I don't have the strength to walk!” she playfully staggered from the chair and flopped dramatically in Cyclone's lap.

“Let's away then, my sexy harlot!” Cyclone snickered and, more than happy to play her part, she wheeled her way through the house to the stairs and the chairlift.

On the way, Bluefeather whispered, “Just don't hit my head on a door frame, okay?”

“Deal,” extremely carefully, Cyclone secured her wheelchair in the lift and she rode it with Bluefeather up to her bedroom. “Blue,” she said with a serious tone, “Babes, I need to talk to you.”

Planting a soft and delicate kiss on Cyclone’s lips, Bluefeather slipped out of her girlfriend’s lap so she could stand back up. “That sounds serous. Something from you and your dad in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, I mean, kinda,” Cyclone rubbed the back of her head in order to get her thoughts in some kind of order, “Something I've been thinking about since we did it on the bed.”

“What, you want to do it somewhere other than the bed? My, my. Adventurous.”

“Well, yeah, but that's not what I wanna talk about, but it is, but...” Cyclone snorted out a breath of frustration and she rubbed the back of her neck again, “The thing is...” she looked down at her knees and suddenly her mouth was all dry. Why was this so damn hard?

Taking a little bit of pity on her wheelchair bound lover, Bluefeather bent over and kissed Cyclone deeply on the lips. “Love, just let the words out. We can sort them after.”

Encouraged, Cyclone closed her eyes and a deep breath later, a torrent spewed out, “I want you to dominate me and humiliate me, make me crawl to kiss your feet and be used as your seat!” the girl’s blue eyes were wide and she was breathing hard after all that in one go.

After listening to that, Bluefeather spent a good thirty seconds thinking, ‘This is more than just the AB/DL thing we did those few times…’

For Cyclone, the silence seemed to drag on forever and ever, it sounded like a judgemental silence, and it was deafening. “Say something?” she practically squeaked as she continued to look down at her knees. “I know, I'm a freak, we can pretend I didn't say anything, and just snuggle, go sleep!”

Bluefeather though didn’t want to pretend she hadn’t heard anything. To stem the tide of her girlfriend’s doubt, she pressed her fingers against Cyclone's mouth. “I said we'd sort the words after they fell out. You're a brat, Cy, but now is not the time to be one.” She sat and gathered her thoughts in order, “I've been your nanny and I've taken care of you. What I want to know is, is this something you've thought about, or is it because of this?”

Cyclone was so astounded that her girlfriend was even willing to listen to her that she didn’t notice at first that she was tapping her useless legs. “No no no!” she said quickly, “I have thought about it, I promise! Look, I know I wasn't really submissive and all that before, but when True Heart started the physiotherapy in the hospital, she was so dominant, I mean, easily dominant. After a few days it was a thrill to obey her, to push myself and please her. And if I didn't push, she'd be all discipline...” thinking back to those days made her heart race, “Earlier, when you said should you be a disciplinarian nanny, it was so hot, and when you said I should crawl to please you...I would crawl a mile to please you, babes. And when you had your feet on my face, like I was your foot washer, and when you sat on my face...fuck it was so hot!”

In a very self-assured manner, Bluefeather placed her fingers back on her brat’s lips, effectively shushing her without saying a word. “Well,” she smiled, “That was a lot of words. Did True Heart use anything other than her voice to discipline you?” she removed her fingers.

Cyclone recognised the gesture as her permission to speak. “No, babes, her words were enough, to do punishing and rewarding things. When she said she was disappointed, it really felt like a slap, y’know?”

“What if I used more than just words to discipline you?” asked Bluefeather, who had to admit that the direction the evening was taking was making her extremely wet and aroused.

“That would be cool, Blue.”

“Just so you know,” Bluefeather warned her, “Everything I know came from some really trashy romance novels.”

“You mean the books without pictures you teased me about?” Cyclone smiled while her girlfriend pouted ever so slightly, “Look, I know it's a lot to just dump on you, and if it's not your thing, it's cool, just say, and we’ll do snugglings.”

Without another word, Bluefeather stood up ramrod straight and she walked over to the foot of the bed. “I'm wondering about two things,” she said without turning round, “Why aren't you on the bed, and why are you still dressed?” she accentuated the last word with a level look over her shoulder.

Wide eyed, Cyclone blinked once then twice as the words washed over her. “I'm sorry ma'am!” she quickly wheeled herself over to the bed, and there she tugged off her tee shirt and, when she was topless, she lifted herself onto the bed, and she removed her jean shorts and panties.

“Scoot yourself closer to the headboard, brat.” She was pleased to see she was quickly obeyed, when Cyclone moved herself closer to the wall on her back. When she was satisfied she was in position, Bluefeather stepped up onto the bed and she walked up until Cyclone's head was between her bare feet. She placed her hands on the wall to steady herself and she lifted her left foot to Cyclone's mouth. “Lube me up, brat.”

“Yes ma'am,” without further ado, the black skinned teenager wet her tongue with as much saliva as she could and she stuck it out, where she started to drag it over Bluefeather's wiggling toes. After that, she lifted her head a little and she sucked on them one after the other.

“Make it sloppy, brat,” ordered the newly dominant teen, who was fully embracing her role on top.

“MmMmmmm!” murmured Cyclone who had all five toes in her mouth and she was happily using her tongue to slather her spit and drool all over them. A few solid minutes of toe sucking later, Bluefeather's foot was dripping ropes of saliva.

Happy her foot was sufficiently lubricated, Bluefeather pulled it away and she made sure to keep it raised as she slid her hands down the wall into a crouch. “I got my hand in you earlier, now let’s see if I get a foot in…” she used her big toe to separate Cyclone’s labia and she tried to work the foot into her pussy. The best thing, from her point of view, was that Cyclone was always loose at the opening.

“No way...your foot?” Cyclone, who was as slow as ever, looked up at her dominant girlfriend towering above her, “Is it working? Has it gone in?”

Bluefeather was aware she looked like a bit of a contortionist. She didn’t let that stop her. “The big toe is in; I’m just wigging to get more toes inside you.”

The mental image was not lost on Cyclone. “God that's so hot, Blue!”

“I’m not done with you yet,” said Bluefeather, whose whole body was wigging above her brat. “Three toes are in; the rest should be easy.”

“I can't believe you've got three toes inside me!” squealed Cyclone, for just the image alone was turning her on. She couldn't feel it, but she was lubing up her dominant's foot for a second time.

One firm push later and… “And I’m all in,” she reported, “But I can't get my foot to go too deep. Saying that, it does look hot from here.” She was a little disappointed. She wanted to reach the G spot but it wasn't happening, no matter how she tried to angle her foot or wiggle her toes.

“Heh,” Cyclone snickered, “I bet it does, wearing me like a shoe.”

With a loud, lewd squelching noise, Bluefeather pulled her foot out of her brat’s snatch and she slid back up the wall so she could bring her wet foot to Cyclone's mouth. “Clean up on aisle foot.” The wiggling toes said ‘now’ for her.

“Yes ma'am!” willingly, Cyclone opened her mouth and she didn't bother with the licking foreplay, she went straight to sucking on toe after toe, and then she ran her tongue between each and every one. Above her, Bluefeather didn't make it easy as any time her toes were free, she rubbed them and her wet foot over Cyclone's face before returning them to her mouth. “Mmmm pppfft...pphbbt mmmm!” was all Cyclone could ‘say’. After a few rounds of licking and sucking like that, her jet black face was covered in a sheen of her own spit.

Looking down at her footwork, Bluefeather laughed, “You are such a mess…” she then moved her wet foot down to play with both of Cyclone's tiny little breasts, where she tweaked the nipples between her toes.

On her back, Cyclone didn't care one bit about the state of her face, not when her breasts were being toyed with by her girlfriend’s toes. “Okay,” Bluefeather smirked, “This is fun. I didn't think it would be the same as a hand, and it isn't, but watching you squirm and moan makes it all worthwhile.” She then lifted her foot off of Cyclone’s breasts and the moan she got was like sweet music, “Scoot back some more so your back is against the headboard.”

Cyclone couldn’t obey quick enough. She shoved herself back a short way, so that she was half sitting up, half laying down. Bluefeather then spread Cyclone's knees apart so that she could sit her ass down as close to Cyclone's groin as she could. With her hands braced behind her, she raised both feet up to her newly submissive girlfriend’s face. “Feel free to use your hands and mouth, brat. I'll give you thirty minutes of toe time.”

After she had watched Cyclone lovingly worship her feet for a few minutes, Bluefeather relaxed and she laid back fully on the bed. For her part, Cyclone was thoroughly enjoying sucking and licking her dominant’s feet. She made sure to slide her tongue between each toe in turn. Twenty nine minutes in, she said, “Your one minute warning.”

“Mmhhhmmm!” Cyclone placed one grey foot on top of the other and she sucked on all ten toes at once for the last full minute. She could have done that all night long had she been allowed.

“Well, that was very relaxing,” Bluefeather said once the last minute was up, “May I have my feet back, please?”

“Yes ma'am, you may,” once her feet were freed, Bluefeather did a backwards roll, then she grabbed Cyclone's feet until her head was back down on the bed, and she crawled forward to snuggle and kiss her. “Mmmm that was fun, Blue.”

“No complaints from me,” smiled Bluefeather, even though her girlfriend’s kisses did taste a little like her feet.

“I take it you liked being all dominant, standing over me like that?”

“Since you like my feet so much, I thought it would be fun to dominate you with them, and it was!”

“Yeah it was! So um,” Cyclone blushed hard in her lover’s tight embrace, Is this something you'd do again?”

“Yes, but I need to work on some more variety. We can include the nappy play along with my domination. Just, well,” Bluefeather paused as something occurred to her, “Do you want more control over your body?”

“I'd be happy to give up control to you Blue, you know I trust you completely,” replied Cyclone, who had completely missed what her girlfriend had meant.

“And I'll take it,” Bluefeather let out a sigh as she realised she’d have to rephrase the question. It was worth it, because she wanted there to be no guesswork in what they were about to do. “What I'm asking is, do you want to gain control over your bladder and bowels, so a messy nappy is bad, or good?”

At last, Cyclone understood. “Ah, right, I've got you. Well, I can control it, so a messy nappy should get me punished.”

Taking a mental note, Bluefeather nodded, “Anything else I should be looking for?”

“Your suggestion of making me crawl to service you was awesome!”

An ultimate act of willpower meant Bluefeather resisted the urge to facepalm. It was like giving an over eager child a bowl full of ice cream and telling them they can only have two spoonful’s. “Yes,” she said carefully, “Dominating you isn't difficult, but I don't want to fall into a rut. I’m thinking more of what you'd expect me to notice as bad behaviour, Cy.”

“Right, bad behaviour,” Cyclone felt a bit of an idiot, “Well...excess brattishness, y'know, like when I get that bad I make you do that face you make.” Laughing, Bluefeather proceeded to make the face in question. “Yeah, that one, like Cheerilee about to give me a detention.”

Again, Bluefeather checked an item off her mental list. “So you messing the nappy, and, well, being excessively you,” she giggled, “Anything else to look out for?”

“I don't think so, not yet anyway. We can always add things later as and when we think of them.”

“Okay, so, when do I know I went too far?” asked Bluefeather, for that was one rather important thing that was weighing at the back of her mind.

“Oh!” exclaimed Cyclone, struck by a sudden inspiration, “We should have a signal for that, something simple, so we don't forget, like a word or something!” she was rather proud of her quicker than usual thinking.

“Good thing we have ‘tap my leg’ as a safe gesture for when I sit on your face,” commented Bluefeather thoughtfully, “Okay, you choose your safe word, I just need to remember what it means when you say it.”

“Gherkin.” Cyclone knew exactly the word to choose. “Seriously, you know I hate them in a burger.” The grey skinned dominant simply gave her the ‘brat face’ look, but she fell over on the bed laughing. “It's not funny! Gherkins always ruin a good burger, and I swear they put extra on to taunt me!”

“That is because I like them and you give them to me!” Bluefeather exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing ever, “Okay, if you say it, I'll know you're in trouble and I’ll stop what I'm doing.”

“Cool,” Cyclone huffed, “And let’s face it, you'd think I was insane if I said that during our sexy fun times.”

A sly look crossed Bluefeather’s face, “I don't know, maybe you want me to use one on you?”

“It'd have to be a bloody big gherkin…”

That sly look only deepened on Bluefeather’s face, “Maybe, but I could slowly eat it in front of you when I'm finished.”

And just like that, Cyclone was sold on the idea of food play, should it come up in the future. “Okay,” she grinned, enjoying the image that conjured up, “Yeah, that'd be really hot.”

Laughing, Bluefeather asked, “Would it be as hot if I stuck my toes in the gherkin jar?”

“Being made to suck gherkin juice off your feet?” Cyclone shuddered, “That's gotta be a punishment, surely?” to which Bluefeather nodded brightly, “It'd be hot though. Humiliating, but it'd be very hot too.”

“That is going to be a challenge. Humiliating you.”

“Like you've ever passed up a challenge.”

“True,” Bluefeather conceded the point with good grace, “You’re dumb enough…I mean, jock enough, to go along with anything though. I'll work on it,” she said as she idly played with Cyclone's tiny breast. “Before I get undressed, would you like some hot chocolate or ice cream?”

“Ice cream please!”

“What a great idea!” beamed Bluefeather, “I'll have two scoops, please.” She rolled herself off of the bed and very slowly she started to unfasten the buttons on her shirt, starting with the ones at the top.

“I'll be right back, Blue!” as quickly as she could, the naked Cyclone hauled herself from the bed to her chair, where she reached for her tee shirt.

Just as black fingers closed on the garment, Bluefeather stopped her from putting on the tee. “No time to waste, Cy.”

“B-Bu-But...” Cyclone stammered, for she hadn't actually been naked in front of her parents since she was born, but the way her girlfriend was looking at her said the choice wasn’t hers to make. She was good with that. “Yes ma'am!” as she left her bedroom, she found obeying her was such a thrill.

For her part, Bluefeather thought that sending her brat downstairs naked wasn’t much of a risk, given the way her parents had left the dining room. Cyclone, on her way down the stairs, figured that even if she was caught, her folks weren't going to freak out too much, so instead of worrying about getting caught, she got busy getting two bowls of chocolate ice cream, two scoops in each, on a tray on her legs and she wheeled back to the lift.

“I got ice cream babe!” Cyclone declared proudly as she made her way back into the bedroom.

Huffing ever so slightly, Bluefeather put away her phone when Cyclone entered the bedroom. “Your parents never answer the phone. I was going to tell them I thought I heard an intruder in the kitchen.”

“They're probably doing gross parent sex or something,” commented Cyclone as she passed Bluefeather her bowl of ice cream. “So that's how you play, huh? I like it.”

Taking her offered bowl, Bluefeather simply smiled a very wide unapologetic smile, “It’s a good thing what we do isn't gross.”

“But we're cute,” countered Cyclone as she helped herself to a loaded spoonful of the chocolate ice cream, “And they're old, and I don't want to think about the two of them doing it. Old wrinkly people shouldn’t be doing…that.”

Bluefeather just laughed, “That is a scary thought,” then she rested a hand on Cyclone's leg. “First night out of the hospital. How are you doing, babe?”

Swirling some ice cream around her mouth, Cyclone really thought about how she was doing. “Good. I'm doing good. I'll uh,” she looked aside and admitted, “I'll be honest, I was a little concerned how it'd go, but yeah, I'm good.”

Slowly, Bluefeather moved her hand up the leg, over Cyclone’s belly, across her small chest and finally she cupped her black cheek. There, she looked intensely into her eyes, “You 'will' let me know when it is not good. You are not alone.” She punctuated her point with a long, slow kiss.

“On the good side,” Cyclone pointed out, “I haven't had that dream for almost a week now, so um...I'm not worried about that.”

“Are you going to miss the weekly sessions? Or True Heart for that matter?”

“I will, I mean I got used to the structure, y'know?” as she spoke, Bluefeather nodded along, “And in no way am I replacing them with you. For a start you are way cuter than True.”

“Well, at least I know your eyesight is still working.”

“I mean, you could always grow an extra two feet, put on a hundred pounds of muscle and have biceps as big as Baltimare, but I love you as you are.”

“With your kink, you'd be happy if I had four feet.” Bluefeather had a smiling glint in her eye as she polished off her ice cream. The lusty look on her submissive girlfriend’s face, as well as the creeping blush, aroused Bluefeather no end. She quickly pulled her hand away from Cyclone’s cheek and blew on it. “Watching you enjoy my feet has made me think of something.”

“What's that, babes?”

“Shopping!”

“Shopping?” Cyclone asked, a little warily perhaps, “You want to go to the mall tomorrow?”

Recognising ‘that’ tone in Cyclone’s voice, Bluefeather teasingly wiggled her toes to distract her. “Yes, the mall is where I want to go. You're finally out of that hospital, and we start our senior year soon. You need a new wardrobe, and maybe a few other things.”

Bluefeather’s salacious wink was utterly lost on Cyclone. “And Exploding Ninja Pirates From Outer Space 4?” she asked, looking at her like a hopeful puppy wanting to be taken for a walk.

“Is there a matinee show?” she asked, resigning herself to having to ‘endure’ the awful cheesy B movie. Bluefeather decided to make her work for it by directing her submissive to get back on the bed, and when she was laid down, Bluefeather removed her skirt and her panties, and promptly sat herself down on her face.

Taking up her phone from the night stand where she had left it, Bluefeather investigated the mall movie theatre’s web page. “Keep working down there, brat, if you want tickets,” she ordered as she felt Cyclone’s tongue slow down.

Uttering a muffled and muted, “Yes ma'am!” Cyclone resumed her given task of eating out her dominant girlfriend with a renewed vigour. She desperately wanted to go see the fourth instalment of the Exploding Ninja Pirates, but she would have done this anyway regardless.

Just as Bluefeather completed the purchase of two tickets for the two p.m. slot the next day, she was bought to a screaming orgasm. Panting hard, she lifted herself up and off her sub’s face so she could breathe. “Okay!” she sighed happily, “That performance deserved two tickets to some crazy space ninja film.” She showed her phone to Cyclone so she could see it was a done deal.

“Wohoo! Super Tongue Cyclone strikes again!” Cyclone snickered and she then giggled, especially when her lover gave her the ‘brat look' again. She did so enjoy earning that.

Kneeling above her submissive’s face, Bluefeather tapped her chin thoughtfully while her pussy juices dripped onto Cyclone’s face. “I hereby dub thee the three C's!”

“Yeah, Three C Me!” she didn’t know what it meant, but she was happy to take it. Looking up, she licked her lips as she caught another of Bluefeather’s drips. “Damn, I will never get tired of this view…”

Above her, Bluefeather snorted, “Cyclone’s Cunnilingus Cuisinart!”

“I'm so putting that on my school reports,” giggled Cyclone as she gently ran her fingers along her girlfriend’s sensitive crotch.

Murring softly at her sub’s delicate touch, Bluefeather said, “The three F's is my gig.” Underneath her, Cyclone wasn’t really listening. She leant her head up and she kissed all along her lover’s moist pussy, and then, lost in the moment, for the first time, she placed a kiss right on her anus. Above her, Bluefeather felt the touch on her backdoor and she squirmed uncomfortably and backed up out of reach. “I bet you don't even known what those three F's are.”

Correctly, Cyclone took note of the squirming and the change of position as a request to not touch her butt again, so she ventured, “Footing, Fisting and...um...Finking?”

“Well, you got part of it right, and feet is your thing,” Bluefeather swung a leg over Cyclone’s head and she laid down by her side, where she lightly tapped her nose with a closed fist, and whispered in her ear, “Fist Fucking Fury.”

Cyclone giggled along with Bluefeather, “I now need a collar with 3 C on it, and you should get a 3 F bracelet.”

“Shopping! So, am I in the guest bedroom?” Bluefeather asked with a playful teasing nibble along Cyclone’s ear.

“No, silly,” shuddered Cyclone in sheer delight at the ear nibble and the sensations it was giving her, “You're my guest, in this bedroom, duh.”

Somehow, Bluefeather managed a completely innocent voice, “But where will you sleep, my lovely brat?”

“I can always warm your feet, ma'am.”

That was what Bluefeather loved about her Cyclone. She was smart where and when it counted. “What an intriguing idea!” she declared as she kissed her lips, “I think we can start that way, but later I do want you to warm all of me.”

“Yay!” Cyclone squealed happily, “Let's get under this duvet then babes, I've got feet to warm!” True to her word, Bluefeather did allow her brat to worm her way down and curl up around and over her feet under the thick warm blanket. However, when she became sleepy, she helped her girlfriend to lay next to her, before they both fell asleep together.