Lesson One: Bound by Balance
When Cheerilee arrived home after a long day of teaching, it was to find her secret lover, private pupil, and favorite pet project waiting for her on the couch with hands folded neatly in her lap. The radio was softly playing a romantic hit from a decade ago. The air was fragrant with herbs and the room felt warmer from the oven. Fleur de Lis looked at her with her smooth pearly complexion flushed from excitement, an apron embroidered with flowers tied around her waist.
“Hello, Madame Cheerilee. It is a pleasure to see you again this evening.” Her accent was light and airy. She stood and gave a commendable curtsy in her short white dress.
Cheerilee greeted her with a smile as she shrugged out of her peacoat. She placed it on the coat rack by the door, right next to Fleur’s black trenchcoat and dark hat.
“Hello, Fleur. Did you have trouble getting away?” Cheerilee asked lightly as she sat down in the adjacent recliner with a long sigh. Her feet ached.
Fleur didn’t hesitate to kneel at Cheerilee’s feet and dutifully helped to remove her shoes. “Not especially. A few cameramen thought they had me cornered, but like always, I gave them the slip and made it to the train station.” She flirted her eyelashes. “May I please rub your feet? They’ve surely suffered for fashion today, madame,” Fleur teased with a mischievous grin.
Cheerilee’s smile turned crooked. “You’re already ready to start? You didn’t even let me sit down properly.”
“I’ve missed our game, Cheerilee,” Fleur said, her voice brimming with eager anticipation. “I cannot wait to be your student any longer, so please be my mademoiselle.”
Cheerilee searched her face. “Beloved. That’s the new safeword you wanted, right?”
Fleur grinned, biting at her lip. “Yes.”
Cheerilee’s smile widened, the tension of her day already starting to fade. “Then go ahead.”
Fleur’s face lit up as she carefully took hold of one of the older woman’s stockinged feet and with practiced ease began to massage with firm circles of her thumbs. Cheerilee’s expression softened, her body sinking into the chair as her eyes turned hooded.
She watched, her breathing slowing to an indulgent rhythm as her pupil worked the stress from her soles.
A year they’d been at this game. It had started thanks to classified ads in a kingdom-wide newspaper.
Strict Domme seeking willing submissive for discreet, intensive lessons. Must be willing to serve. Lessons 1-2x a month.
And Cheerilee had gotten quite a bit of nothing from that ad. People curious about kink who backed out after an email or two. Trolls who thought they’d found an easy mark, only to realize that a quarter of her job was dealing with troublemakers. And then a handful of promising applicants that she eventually whittled down to one. The perfect one.
Fleur de Lis. A supermodel who was hungry to take the pressure off her busy life. More than that? She had real issues she wanted to work through. It turned out she’d taken Cheerilee’s ad to heart. She wanted to learn. And it was in Cheerilee’s blood to teach.
But first came the respect. Students of martial monks abroad would be tasked with cooking and cleaning for their masters before beginning their training. Apprentices for a specific trade were often expected to run errands, completely at the mercy of their benefactors. Cheerilee was accustomed to the thankless job of teaching elementary school, but she had long fantasized about greater appreciation. Fleur gave it to her in spades.
Cheerilee reclined back in her seat, her eyes falling shut as Fleur lovingly worked the ache from beneath her toes. Her thumbs smoothed out the knots in her heel.
“What did you cook?” Cheerilee asked, a touch drowsily.
“Sautéed chicken with garlic, lemon, and wild rice, madame. I’ve brought a young bottle of Viognier to enjoy with it.”
Cheerilee hummed and nodded once, one eye slitting open to watch Fleur switch feet.
Their coming together had been strange and completely unexpected. Their emails had been tentative at first.
What are you into?
Cheerilee? Control, obviously. But she liked to give assignments. “Homework” if you will. And she did like to train.
Fleur? She liked to try new things, and she was beyond adventurous. But mostly, she wanted praise. Praise and to feel like she was more than just a pretty face.
What do you want to try?
Cheerilee desired static setups, which were almost artful in their elaborate presentation. All the better for lectures. Fleur yearned to be molded into something new. To be able to speak her mind on matters yet beyond her ken. And what better motivator than a hot instructor?
And then finally…
Would you like to meet?
And what a shock it had been! Cheerilee had stared so much during their first meeting that she knew she’d given up a bit of her power, but she couldn’t help it. After all…it was Fleur de Lis! The internationally famous beauty whose face was plastered on so many glossy pages and billboards, you practically had to live underground not to know her…
And even then, the Diamond Dog miners were crazy about her!
But it hadn’t taken long for their conversation to make it clear that Fleur was being choked alive by her fame. Even mid-lunch-date they’d had to escape paparazzi hunting for a snap of the supermodel. Cheerilee had spirited her away to her home. It hadn’t been her desire to reveal such a personal space so quickly, but Fleur had been beyond respectful. If anything, she seemed to brighten at Cheerilee’s normal but orderly sanctuary. She had eyed the photos of past students with fascination. Taken in the emotive horse paintings and fresh flowers in decorative vases with hushed wonder.
Cheerilee had gotten the sense that before she’d made up her mind about being potentially discovered doing kinky things with a famous supermodel, Fleur had very swiftly made her mind up about Cheerilee. A year later, here they were, and along the way romance had sprouted. They’d worked out every snag and complication… And yet, Cheerilee still wondered what in Equestria had made Fleur so eager to be her sub.
“That will do, thank you, Fleur. Get me a plate, will you? I’ll change into something more comfortable.” Cheerilee started to sit up, but Fleur clasped her hands before her and pouted. Mightily.
“Ah, madame, won’t you please let me help you? I promise to have your meal ready quickly!”
Cheerilee crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. She stared at Fleur so hard, her pupil actually blushed and rose to her feet. “M-My apologies for speaking out of turn, madame. I will prepare your supper now.”
She watched the taller woman hurry away so quickly that her long pale pink hair drifted behind her, shiny strands of silk catching the warm glow of the living room lamp. Cheerilee shook her head with an imperceptive smile and retired to her bedroom. There, she removed her work clothes and put on a comfy T-shirt and sweatpants, sans bra. She’d shower later.
Returning to the living room, she looked across the space to see Fleur in the dining area uncorking a bottle and pouring the white wine into two glasses by hand. She was not allowed to use magic while performing service or engaging with her lessons unless she was given explicit permission. Otherwise, what was the point of the work? Cheerilee was earthbound, meaning she had no magic or wings, but she appreciated her natural strength, even in her line of work. In her opinion, doing things manually built character. Precisely her goal for Fleur.
Her pupil looked up sharply as Cheerilee approached. Watching Fleur fumble for her apron strings without a spell, the older woman felt a small satisfaction—progress, however imperfect.
“Everything is prepared, Madame Cheerilee,” Fleur said with a small dip of her knees.
Cheerilee smiled kindly at her. Her pupil was taller by a good two inches when Cheerilee was out of her heels, but somehow that didn’t stop the woman from feeling like she towered when Fleur served her like this. Fleur pulled out a chair and the teacher sat into it. When Fleur herself was seated, Cheerilee raised her glass. “Thank you for the meal, Fleur. I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble this time.”
Fleur’s cheeks heated pink, but she grinned as she lifted her own glass and they toasted. “You are very welcome, madame. And not this time. It only took me thirty minutes to prepare. The Viognier was the most difficult thing to acquire, but that is only because I am, as they say, choosy. The wine comes from a charming Prench vineyard I found that specialized in fruit wines of an exquisite caliber. Tres magnifique.”
“Sounds expensive…” Cheerilee muttered with a glance.
Fleur sat up straighter and pressed her lips together. “Only a poor student would give her teacher a mediocre present when it is within her power to do greater.”
“Lucky me, then.”
“You have a student with both means and excellent taste, madame.”
Cheerilee chuckled deep in her throat as she took a bite of her food. Moist and zesty, just the way she liked it. She took a sip of the Viognier and carefully considered how it paired with the chicken, garlic, and lemon flavors. They danced, awakening her tongue with energetic tastes that made her feel more alert. Fleur watched her from the corner of her eye, nervous but trying to hide it.
With great affection, Cheerilee nodded her head and breathed, “This is delicious, Fleur. You’re an excellent cook.”
Fleur’s face lit up with a relieved smile. “Thank you. I am most glad you enjoy the food. I have been practicing more between shows and photoshoots. My agent and fashion friends thought I was crazy at first, but now they get excited if I cook.”
Cheerilee, who had been smiling gently as she ate, smiled wider with pride as her chest warmed.
One of the recent things she taught Fleur was the basics of cooking. She had given Fleur recipes as homework, and though she’d started with her favorite meals, she encouraged Fleur to explore whatever struck her fancy. Cheerilee wasn’t picky. And so the fashion model had dug into her native country’s traditional dishes. This latest dish was part of a series Fleur had been sharing with Cheerilee, and the teacher was delighted her pupil had made such great progress.
But Fleur’s education was broad, and these were not the only lessons she’d been endeavoring to learn.
When the meal was finished, Fleur took the plates and glasses to put away in the dishwasher. In the meantime, she gave Cheerilee her laptop. It sat on the coffee table and displayed a spreadsheet, which showed rows and cells of numbers and dates and descriptions.
Fleur kept peeking over her shoulder as Cheerilee scanned the numbers on the loveseat couch. This? It was a financial record. And Cheerilee was frowning at it.
“Fleur, remind me, what is your budget for leisure spending in a given month?” she asked her pupil as she sat back from the screen with a sigh.
Fleur’s shoulders hitched up a little higher as she placed a plate into the bottom dishwasher rack, then closed it. “Ah… I think you said a hundred thousand?” The budget of the wealthy. It had made Cheerilee clutch her head at first, but now it was just another number.
“Correct.” Cheerilee gazed at Fleur sidelong and motioned for her to come closer. “So imagine my surprise when I found the actual result of this month’s expenses.”
Nervously, Fleur came to sit next to her. “Yes, madame? Is something the matter?” Her pretty slender hands wrung in her lap.
Cheerilee gave her a look. “Oh ho, we’re playing dumb today I see.” Her eyes narrowed. “Fleur, you went over your limit. My limit that I set for you.” She tapped the bottom of the spreadsheet, where a cell displayed the sum of its column. It read over a hundred and fifty thousand.
Fleur shrank in her seat. “Madame, that— Y-You see, I can explain—”
“Stop.” And the other woman fell quiet. Cheerilee pinched the bridge of her nose. “You told me you wanted to be better about your spending. That you didn’t want to rely entirely on accountants to have a grasp of your finances. I set those limits for your own good, Fleur. I’m disappointed.”
Little tears glittered at the corners of Fleur’s eyes as her lip trembled. “Madame, please! I beg you for a chance to explain.”
Cheerilee’s eyes creased as she regarded her younger charge. After a long moment, she tilted her head. “All right. What do you have to say?”
Fleur took a little breath. “It… It was supposed to be a surprise. For your birthday.” Which was in three days. Cheerilee frowned now but didn’t speak. Her pupil went on, her voice trembling a little. “I wanted very badly to do something nice for you, madame, but I know how you feel about me giving you gifts or money. I had already exhausted my funds for donations that month, but then I had this idea, and I decided… I decided that the consequences would be acceptable.”
Cheerilee’s eyebrows lifted up high. “You did it on purpose. What, did you just hope I wouldn’t notice? Disobeying me even for a gift is flattering, but sort of misses the point, doesn’t it, Fleur? What was this idea of yours, anyway?”
Fleur pouted as she fussed with the hem of her white dress. “Must I reveal it, madame? You will learn of it soon, anyway.”
“What do you think?” Cheerilee snapped.
Her pupil flinched and let out a little sigh. “I…donated fifty thousand to your school.” At her teacher’s alarmed look, she hurriedly added, “Anonymously! Of course!” She slouched and delicately wiped a tear from her eye. “You’d been complaining of needed repairs and a lack of computers. So I thought… I just…” She lifted a hand and tilted her head in a delicate shrug.
Cheerilee stared at her, stunned. “You did that? Recently?”
Fleur did a tiny nod. “Yes. To further obfuscate the trail, I gave the money through a new charity foundation. They’ll be contacting your school tomorrow. My name will not be attached.” She bowed her head. “But I know you are still displeased with me, madame. Rightly so. I was being impulsive again. I only wanted to make you happy for your birthday.”
Cheerilee put a hand on her head and leaned on the armrest. After a long moment of thinking, she looked at Fleur with some exasperation. “This is a strange position you’ve put me in, Fleur.”
“Yes. I am sorry, madame.”
“You did something really sweet, and I’m touched, but you also disobeyed me.”
“Yes, madame.”
Cheerilee huffed and reached over, taking a firm hold of Fleur’s chin and lifting her face. The supermodel, gorgeous with her smooth unblemished features, was quietly weeping. Cheerilee felt her heart squeeze, both from frustration and burning affection. Oh, her sweet, silly student. Fleur was childlike in so many ways, but she had depths that surprised Cheerilee. Initially, she hadn’t expected this arrangement of theirs to be anything more than a diversion, but with Fleur, Cheerilee now felt…
“What am I going to do with you?” Cheerilee breathed, caressing Fleur with her thumb.
“I can learn. I’ll make you pleased again, madame. Please let me atone,” Fleur begged, leaning into her teacher’s hand.
Cheerilee let her touch drift to cup her eager pupil’s cheek. “Are you sorry?”
“Yes, I’m so very sorry, mademoiselle.”
“Then get downstairs and take off your dress. It’s time for a lesson.”
Fleur, trembling, rose up and hurried to the back hallway, where a door, normally locked, opened for her, and she hurried down the wooden steps to the basement beneath. The soundproofed room contained all the dark and hidden things Cheerilee desired. Rich she may not be, but this was her hidden passion. Almost all of the money she could spare went to this den of desire.
Otherwise, her home was very ordinary. She could have friends over for dinner and no one was the wiser. It’s what puzzled Cheerilee so much. What had Fleur seen up here on that fateful day? For every complicated want was down below.
Cheerilee followed after her sub, her pupil, her lover, shutting the door behind her. The wooden steps creaked as she descended, passing the foamed walls.
Along the walls were racks of various tools and implements. Paddles, whips, dildoes, anal plugs, vibrators, chains, cuffs, and gags. Across the room, a clothing rack held kinky outfits. Vinyl bodysuits, maid uniforms, sheer black dresses, and leather strap suits. Near the toy rack was a basket on the floor with various ropes of different types and thicknesses.
At the back wall was a four-poster bed with silky violet and magenta sheets. Straps were already tied to each of the posts. In one corner of the room was also a large wooden black box, padded on the inside for sensory deprivation. In another corner was a pillory, and in another, a BDSM saw horse.
It left a modest space on the carpeted floor, but it was more than enough for the suspension play. Hooks and hoops were screwed into thick reinforced wood beams overhead at various points to allow for different rope systems.
And kneeling under all of that, just at the end of the bed, was Fleur, dressed only in a sexy lingerie piece: a sheer white crotchless bodysuit with intricate floral patterns. She watched her teacher with wide eyes, shivering now and then in anticipation.
Cheerilee took her time. She went to the toy rack and grabbed a red ball gag, a crop whip, and two large binder clips. These she tossed into the nearby rope basket and pulled that over next to her pupil. Next, she dug out four very long coils of medium-thick white cotton rope. She also grabbed a much smaller pre-cut bundle of the same type of rope, and one large carabiner. She dumped these onto the floor and quietly began to tie Fleur up.
First with the younger woman’s arms behind her back. Then with one of the longer ropes, Cheerilee wrapped it around her pupil, shibari style, with the rope wrapping around and crossing her chest to create a kind of harness. A shinju harness, specifically. The first minute or two of this work was spent in silence.
Then Cheerilee began to speak. “I want you to reflect on something, Fleur.” She created a knot, then reached into the large basket for the ball gag. “Why have I not asked you for any of your money, despite living on a teacher’s salary?”
Fleur blinked, her cheeks pink. She opened her mouth to say something, but Cheerilee held up the ball gag with a significant look. “And while you’re silently reflecting on this point, I want you to consider one more thing.” Fleur obediently opened her mouth wider and Cheerilee fastened the gag around her sub’s head. Her hands slowed a little as she finished. “Why did you choose to be with me?”
Fleur’s head lifted with an anguished gaze, and a tiny whine sounded deep in her throat. Still, Cheerilee was not done. This was a lecture, after all.
“All that said, I need you to understand the careful balance of our relationship. What makes it work. Because it is a precarious balance. Like what I’m about to do with you and this rope. Your decisions—emotional, relational, or ethical—affect this balance, but it also affects you, whether you realize it or not.”
She could have been a college professor. She had the education for it. Princess Twilight had even extended an invitation to teach advanced classes at her School of Friendship. But Cheerilee knew she was needed at the Ponyville Schoolhouse. This, with Fleur, was one of the few ways of making use of her overeducation. Finding someone, unrefined, and shaping them. It was the ultimate influence, but she dared not do it impulsively or with just anyone. And Fleur?
Fleur was special.
The pupil listened, breathing deeply through her nose, her gaze a strange mixture of love, apprehension, and hunger. Cheerilee felt her own desire surge at the look. But she had mastery over her own heat. So she went on, speaking calmly.
“Iman Neigh Kantor argued that to respect someone means to treat them as an end in themselves, not as a means to an end. He believed that every individual has inherent dignity. Autonomy. This must be recognized in any interaction, and even as your teacher, I’ve striven to honor that in you.”
She placed her hands under Fleur’s elbows and carefully guided her to stand. Their eyes met. “Kantor believed autonomy means choosing your path, free from fear or insecurity. When you spend to keep someone, you lose that autonomy—and you disrespect theirs by trying to control how they stay.”
Cheerilee caressed Fleur’s hips, eyeing the space between her legs where the subtle slit at the crotch tempted like a siren. She passed over this, instead sliding her hands to her student’s pert backside. The teacher sighed with appreciation as she squeezed Fleur’s ass cheeks, pulling her student and lover toward her and kissing her neck. Fleur groaned, her head falling back before Cheerilee gave her a smart slap on her right cheek that made her yelp.
Cheerilee grabbed at the front of the harness and tightened the rope, feeling it dig just enough into Fleur’s soft skin. “See how the rope holds you steady? It doesn’t overreach. It doesn’t pull you off balance. That’s what a relationship needs.”
She stepped away to grab another of the long ropes. She smirked at Fleur’s whimper as she undid the coil and set to work making a swiss seat around her pupil’s hips and upper legs.
“In normal relationships, neither partner should feel used, diminished, or less than the other,” Cheerilee said as if the interruption hadn’t happened. “In our relationship there is an agreed dynamic, but I believe the principles are still upheld. We discussed and consented to everything we are doing, and we are free to renegotiate at any time. This is our unique expression of care and respect.”
She worked quietly for a moment before making a knot and looking up.
“But when you seek validation through emotional spending, are you being respectful to yourself? When you try to buy approval, you treat yourself as a tool for others’ happiness, not as a person with inherent value.”
Fleur’s face looked horrified at the thought, and she seemed to really want to speak, but even if she wanted to, the ball gag was fixed firmly over her mouth. She trembled harder as Cheerilee worked.
“In typical relationships, this would still be problematic. In ours, it’s even worse. We’ve agreed, after careful negotiation and trust building, to this power dynamic. Your behavior undermines this, whether you like it or not. It diminishes my role…and yours. And don’t you love being my student?” Cheerilee smiled at Fleur’s frantic nodding. “Good.”
“When one person gives beyond any normal means of reciprocation, resentment can fester. The giver can feel exploited, and the taker may feel burdened. Have you considered whether your actions—your emotional spending—might be tipping the balance too far in one direction? And how that affects us both?”
Fleur’s face tensed. Cheerilee watched her expectantly. After a long moment, the younger woman slowly shook her head. Cheerilee smiled and kissed Fleur’s cheek. Then she went for another long coil of rope and a step stool that had been neatly folded under the bed.
“So what is emotional spending, exactly? We can think of it as pouring your energy and resources into something to feel better, without considering whether it’s sustainable or healthy. I’ve noticed this trend with you, Fleur. When you first came to me, you were on the verge of debt, shelling out millions to keep friends and lovers with you. Like when you spent a fortune buying your ex-boyfriend a foreign sports car. After you’d broken up.”
Cheerilee used this next rope to create a support line from the shinju harness. She had to use the step stool to reach the metal anchor ring, but she was long past feeling self-conscious about her height. Not when subs like Fleur gave her such delicious prey-like looks as right now. She looped the rope through the ring at least twice before she stepped down again to the carpet. All the while, she kept talking.
“You give so much, so desperate for approval, and for what? Forget the money, how do you refill your heart when it runs dry? What do you do when your friends or partners come to expect even more giving? Or worse, they stop appreciating you at all?”
Here, Cheerilee slowed, her eyes tensing as she gauged Fleur’s face. “That’s already happened to you…hasn’t it?”
Fleur looked away, her eyes shining with new tears. She breathed in, shuddering, as Cheerilee caressed her cheek once before pulling on the rope. Fleur didn’t stand on her tiptoes as the harness pulled up towards the anchor ring, squeezing her breasts a little. Her teacher had trained her too well.
Cheerilee locked the rope off and reached down for the last rope on the floor. This she began to thread through the swiss seat.
“If you want to overcome this, Fleur, you have to recognize the patterns. Why are you giving so much? You do realize that most people can get by with very little? Are you afraid of being rejected? Are you trying to control your relationships by being indispensable?” Cheerilee exhaled hard through her nose as she paused to crouch and grab the carabiner from the top of the rope basket. “You have to set boundaries, not just with people, but with yourself. Our relationship has very defined boundaries, right? It’s all for balance. Like what I’m about to do with you now.”
The carabiner went through the new support line, and Cheerilee stood to loop this twice through the anchor ring before she met Fleur’s eyes. The younger woman’s tears were flowing freely again, and she was trying to keep her breathing steady, but she couldn’t help sniffling shakily now and again. Cheerilee sighed and bent a little to press her forehead against Fleur’s. “Shhh… We’re going to lift now. On three. One… Two…”
Cheerilee pulled on the rope, using her earthbound strength. Fleur was light, despite her height, making it even easier. Cheerilee set herself between Fleur’s legs, keeping her steady as she began to lock off the rope. When she was done, she pushed away the stool and held Fleur’s face, wiping away tears. “You are held up by everything I give you. But this doesn’t work if you step past the boundaries Fleur. I want you to respect me, but I want you to respect yourself too. This?” She plucked a support rope. “It comes undone when you fail to say no. You have to trust that the right people will stay without your exorbitant gifts. You have to trust that I want you without them. You don’t need to buy love or approval. Certainly not from me. What you bring to this dynamic is you—your trust, your submission, your heart. And that’s worth more than any gift.”
She leaned in and murmured. “Remember Kantor and his teachings. He said we all have inherent worth, and that includes you, Fleur. Your dignity isn’t tied to what you give—it’s tied to who you are.” She tilted her head a little, her two-toned rose and pale pink hair slipping over her shoulders and brushing over Fleur’s belly. “And you’re my lovely student. Mine. You think I would put this much effort into something that isn’t worthwhile? Fleur, you are a font of possibilities. I don’t see limits to your growth.”
This is why I love you. Why I may never find someone like you, ever again.
She never said this aloud, and she refused to do so now. Too many disappointments, too many goodbyes—it had made opening her heart feel like a risk she couldn’t afford. At her age, perhaps cynicism was unavoidable. But Fleur had a way of testing even her resolve.
Cheerilee frowned softly. “Now then. Our relationship needs a little rebalancing. Do you want to be my good girl again?”
Fleur’s eyes widened, a soft whimper escaping around the gag as she nodded frantically. Cheerilee smiled. “Then let me help you remember what balance feels like.”
She went back to the basket and found the binder clips. Fleur squeaked at the sight of them, but Cheerilee didn’t use them right away. She placed them in the pocket of her sweats, then took a moment to appreciate her pupil.
Fleur had the typical fashion model physique. Slim, delicate, and with a modest chest. She reminded Cheerilee of a doll sometimes, and she’d sometimes worried that Fleur faced too many pressures to maintain a certain look to the detriment of her health. She’d forbidden her sub from dangerous diets, but mostly she hoped what Fleur was learning would open up more possibilities for a life beyond modeling.
Because she was worth it. Fleur was worth every late night coming up with lessons and reading material, every cramp of stress from a concerning fashion article, and yes, all the risks of dating someone famous.
Cheerilee’s hands glided over Fleur’s smooth thighs, then over the sheer lingerie toward the younger woman’s chest. Her gaze turned hooded as she caressed Fleur’s breasts, her thumbs softly teasing her student’s nipples. She smirked as Fleur eagerly arched into her touch, her eyes hooded as she watched her teacher’s hands intently. Cheerilee stepped out from between Fleur’s legs to be at her side, where she kissed her sub on the temple before she hooked her thumbs into the top of the bodysuit’s brasserie and pulled down.
The motion made Fleur sway a little as her tits were freed into the air, her pink nipples pert. Cheerilee hummed as she cupped and kneaded these, making Fleur’s breathing pick up speed before she dipped a head down and took a nipple in her mouth, lashing it with her tongue. Fleur moaned in her ear, so needful.
The teacher straightened, her eyebrows lifting. “Ah, I’m sorry. Did we forget this was part punishment, too?” She dug out the binder clips from her pocket, and she grinned as Fleur squirmed with an alarmed look.
“Hold still,” Cheerilee commanded softly. Fleur settled down, her chest heaving as her pale violet eyes darted from the binder clips to Cheerilee’s face. The teacher winked as she opened one of the black clips. “This will sting a bit.” Grabbing one of Fleur’s nipples in a tight pinch, she pulled this out, then fastened a clip over it. Fleur squealed. Cheerilee did the same for the other one. She laughed a little at how Fleur’s tits looked now, so squashed, pink, and raw.
Returning to the basket, she acquired the crop whip she’d placed there earlier and used it on Fleur’s ivory ass in a sharp swing.
Fleur shrieked, her back arching a little as she swung in the ropes.
“Next time I set a limit for you, you had better damn well listen,” Cheerilee said sharply. She whacked Fleur’s other butt cheek, still red from the slap it had received earlier. Fleur shrieked again, her arms straining in their bindings as she gave Cheerilee a desperate look. “I am your teacher, and I am devoted to your learning. But you have to obey.”
She whacked Fleur’s inner thigh next. “I need you to learn this lesson, Fleur. Will we keep giving too much away?” Another whack on the other thigh, making it jiggle. Cheerilee let the crop trail from its latest mark down to Fleur’s pussy, the slit opening spreading wide to expose her cute cunt, all-natural, but the pink curls were evenly trimmed. Cheerilee pressed the whip’s head through the silky curls, to where the swollen clitoris peeked, and this she caressed. Fleur moaned, trying to shift her hips wider.
Cheerilee grabbed a fistful of Fleur’s hair near the scalp and pulled her face closer. “Will you be good, Fleur? Hmm?” With the little bit of movement she had available to her, Fleur jerked her head, a strangled sound erupting from her throat. Cheerilee smirked and whacked a boob with the whip. Fleur screamed in surprise. “Sorry, what?” the teacher asked her innocently. She whipped the same boob. “Speak up.” Again and again and again and—
Fleur writhed, her face becoming an unusual kaleidoscope of emotions. Agony, desire, desperation…
And love.
Cheerilee started to give in more to her wants. She dipped down and bit the top of Fleur’s other breast, her teeth scraping, then digging. Hard enough to bruise. The loud cry this produced made Cheerilee glad for all the work she’d done to soundproof the basement. The more Fleur screamed, the wetter she got, the pit of her stomach tightening to a dull ache. Her whip struck and struck, leaving welts throughout Fleur’s delectable body. A canvas to portray her affectionate violence. Minutes passed…
The time to release Fleur from the shibari seat was fast approaching.
Fleur’s head lolled as she panted heavily through her nose. Her pink face was wet from tears and the ball gag gleamed in her mouth as she looked around dazedly with dilated eyes. Cheerilee caressed her cheek. “You’re doing so good. You’re being such a good girl. My good girl…”
She flicked a binder clip, making Fleur whimper, before she removed the clip and took Fleur’s nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue energetically as Fleur shouted at the intense feeling of blood rushing back into her poor flesh. Cheerilee loved the salty taste of Fleur’s desperate sweat along with the heat of so much blood returning to the starved veins. She did this again on the other side, and she eyed Fleur sideways, loving the white bend of Fleur’s graceful neck before the young woman raised her head again and found her teacher’s soft green eyes.
With a loud smack of her mouth, Cheerilee pulled away, making Fleur wince from the tug. The Domme reached up and undid the ballgag, tossing it into the basket without even looking. Her eyes were fastened on Fleur’s flushed face, her lips swollen and her chin glistening from the unavoidable drool the gag caused.
She looked so beautiful.
One of Cheerilee’s hands caressed down Fleur’s stomach as she gripped her pupil tightly by the back of the neck. “Do you promise never to disobey me on purpose again?”
Fleur’s head bobbed and she half-sobbed, half-gasped, “Yes! I promise!”
Cheerilee’s hand reached those pretty pink pubes…and slowed. Fleur whined and tried to spread her legs wider. Cheerilee tilted her head one way, then the other, her lips parted. “Are you sure?” She grabbed a fistful of Fleur’s pubes and pulled, making the supermodel sway back and forth in the ropes.
Fleur squealed, her legs now squeezing together. “Aah! Mademoiselle, I am sorry! I will not disrespect either of us that way again!”
Another pull of those poor pubes, another scream, but she didn’t let Fleur swing back. Cheerilee was grinning now as she held her sub aloft, literally, by the hair. “Good. Now say it to me in Prench.”
Fleur babbled fast, her face twitching as she tried to hold very, very still. “S’il vous plaît, je promets de faire mieux! Je ne désobéirai pas! Je veux être ta gentille fille! Votre élève parfait!”
Gods, she loved it when Fleur begged in Prench.
Cheerilee let go, stopping her partner’s body from swinging, before she wrenched Fleur’s face toward her, catching her mouth in a hungry and passionate kiss. She’d been wanting to do that from the start, but discipline was key here. She let her hand slip down till she found those wet pussy lips and dripping locks. She ran her fingers through the femmecum, spreading the essence as she played with Fleur’s clit, before letting her fingers plunge deep, deep into her partner’s needy hole, where she fucked her, roughly, pads of her fingers pressing against that spongey G-spot like it was a tight knot that needed undoing.
Fleur cried out deep in her throat as she returned Cheerilee’s bruising kisses.
But Cheerilee was cognizant of the time, and she didn’t want Fleur suffering from hanging too long. She broke off their kiss and removed her hand, ignoring her pupil’s protests as she did so. She carefully undid the ropes, holding Fleur about the waist as she guided her to the floor.
“Madame, madame, please,” Fleur begged, groaning, her thighs rubbing together.
“Shhh.” Cheerilee removed the rope harnesses, but she left the ropes binding Fleur’s arms behind her a moment longer.
Standing over Fleur, Cheerilee pushed down at her waistband, not even bothering to fully remove her pants, and revealing she wasn’t wearing any panties. Unlike Fleur’s foreign sensibilities, Cheerilee preferred to stay shaved, save for a single short-trimmed magenta heart just over her clit. She beckoned Fleur to her. “Pay for your tuition, you silly girl. Now.”
Fleur scrambled to rise up onto her knees, and with big eyes and a shaky smile, she took Cheerilee into her mouth without the slightest bit of hesitation. Cheerilee tried to keep her face stoic, but her lips remained parted so she could pant softly as her darling student, her greatest pupil, lovingly and worshipfully pleasured her.
Fleur’s tongue mostly stayed on Cheerilee’s tense clit, but it occasionally roved through her vaginal lips, tasting her slick arousal. More than a foot rub, this had been the ache that had needed tending. Every pass of that exquisite tongue made the woman feel like heat was threatening to burn her from the inside out. She loved Fleur’s noisy slurping. Fitting that she didn’t let a drop of her teacher’s nectar go to waste.
Cheerilee spread her legs a little, angling her hips forward, one of her hands grabbing her breast and teasing the nipple through her shirt. Her other hand she kept on Fleur’s head, stroking her, guiding her, till the pressure started to build dangerously.
That’s when Cheerilee pulled away. Fleur pouted, the smallest sound of complaint passing her lips before she hastily swallowed this down at her teacher’s stern look.
“We’re almost there, Fleur,” Cheerilee said breathlessly. She dropped her sweatpants, stepping out of them hastily, before pulling her shirt off over her head. Her breasts, much larger than Fleur’s swung as Cheerilee leaned forward and touched her student just under the chin. “Turn around.”
Fleur did so, blinking as she licked at her cum-slick lips. Cheerilee undid the rope binding her student’s arms, then she pulled the younger woman up and pointed at the bed. “Take everything off. Lie on your back. On the bed. Go.”
This instruction caused Fleur to glance at Cheerilee nervously before quickly complying.
Cheerilee buried her hands in her hair, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
Just a little more. Just hold on.
When she opened her eyes again, it was to find Fleur lying horizontally in the bed, her head turned Cheerilee’s way with shivering anticipation.
Cheerilee stalked around until she was at Fleur’s feet, then from the inside, she grabbed just under her student’s knees and pushed her legs up and back. Fleur gasped, shifting back as if to move out of the way, but then her master, her teacher, grabbed her by the throat and pushed her down. Not with her whole weight, but enough to get Fleur to hold very still. Cheerilee pushed her knees up onto the mattress just under and around her student’s legs, sliding in so that her pussy ground up against Fleur’s. Her subby student was so wet, she was already dripping onto the bed.
The sweet, doe-eyed Fleur gaped up at Cheerilee, her breaths coming in little excited huffs, one burning lock of pale pink hair glinting in her gaze as the rest fanned behind her. Her feet bounced up in the air as Cheerilee slowly, steadily tribbed against Fleur’s stiff clit, gently rocking the girl, fucking her like only a woman could. Her face was flush as she breathed heavily and moved her hips, fireworks of pleasure erupting through her groin with every slick tweak of her clit. “Does my good girl know better now?”
“Y-Yes, madame.”
“Prench.”
Fleur moaned, her hands clutching at the violet bed sheets. “Oui, madamoiselle.”
“You want to fucking make it up to me?”
“Oui!”
“Open your mouth and take a fucking breath. Right now.”
Fleur’s wide eyes locked onto hers before she inhaled sharply, obeying quickly. Both of Cheerilee’s hands went to Fleur’s throat, her fingers pressing firmly but deliberately against the sides, just below the jawline. The pressure was controlled, enough to restrict blood flow slightly but not enough to stop her breath entirely.
Cheerilee leaned in closer, her gaze never leaving Fleur’s face. Her movements were intentional, her focus unwavering. Every flicker of Fleur’s expression—her parted lips, the flutter of her lashes, the soft rise and fall of her chest—was a silent conversation, a reassurance that both were exactly where they wanted to be.
Fleur’s mouth was still open. Cheerilee worked up a glob and spat it into Fleur’s mouth, a small string of it trailing down Fleur’s delicate chin. Fleur released a strangled groan, her tongue clumsily seeking the morsel that hadn’t made it.
With her hair curtaining around them, Cheerilee tribbed gently, her arms locked straight as she fucked her student. Fleur’s eyes fluttered, her pupils dilating again as her face flushed a deeper red. Cheerilee watched carefully, counting the seconds as the tension in her grip eased. Then, with practiced precision, she released Fleur’s throat.
Fleur sucked in a breath, then coughed softly, her chest rising and falling deeply with each gulp of air. A visible shiver ran through her as oxygen and blood surged back to her brain, no doubt leaving her light-headed and tingling. Cheerilee watched, seeing the glassy euphoria take hold of her sub as her complexion slowly returned to normal.
Then Cheerilee grabbed Fleur roughly by the face and forced those dreamy eyes on her, her fingers digging into her sub’s cheeks as she started to trib faster, making the bed creak with every heated motion. They locked gazes, Cheerilee’s green eyes boring into Fleur’s violet gaze as their cunts slid, clits grinding, pussy lips kissing wetly with their lust.
Fleur’s face tensed amidst her euphoric trance, her body arching stiffly as she let out a great cry. Cheerilee watched her face hungrily, savoring the wild ecstasy that engulfed her pupil, before she felt that same great wave crest high, then crash mightily down upon her. Cheerilee shouted, squeezing her eyes shut before gradually slowing to a twitching stop. She sat there a moment, panting, washed in the lambent pleasure of her climax. Then she felt a hand on her cheek and looked down at Fleur who, with red marks on her throat, smiled up at her.
“Are you okay?” Cheerilee panted.
“Yes,” Fleur breathed back. She turned her gaze up to the ceiling, her lips parted.
“I mean it, Fleur. Are you all right?” Cheerilee ran a hand over Fleur’s throat, then the bite mark on her sub’s breast. Maybe ice was needed? Her nipples certainly looked tender.
“Yes, Cheerilee. I am fine.” Fleur rolled her eyes, swatting half-heartedly at the Domme’s handsy inspection.
Cheerilee gave her a disapproving look and the younger woman huffed but stopped interfering. It gave Cheerilee a chance to better note the red welts on her partner’s chest, arms, and legs. One boob, the one sporting a purplish bite mark over the heart, had more ruddy bruises than the other from the crop whip abuse. Fleur had assured her such things were easy to cover. The teacher was just glad her sub wasn’t having circulation issues. The ropes left some marks, but most looked like they’d fade within the day.
Cheerilee slid off Fleur, settling onto the mattress next to her. She enjoyed the feel of the cool silk sheets on her hot bare skin.
“Do I pass inspection, doctor?” Fleur asked with a smirk.
The older woman returned the expression. “Nothing some ice and ointment won’t fix…” Then she chuckled. “You realize this means you have to read Kantor later, you know that right?”
Fleur, who had been sitting up to stretch, did a double take. “What?? Aw, Cheerilee, do not be cruel!”
Cheerilee snapped her fingers. “Drat. See there’s the catch, Fleur. The crueler the homework, the funnier it is.”
Fleur crossed her arms and pouted.
Cheerilee laughed and reached over to rub her back. “My poor baby. Will taking a shower with me make up for it?” And it was a genuine question because the scene was over. It was always over when they both climaxed. Unless they’d discussed more orgasms beforehand, but usually they aimed for just one. Their game for the evening was done if not everything else about their unique relationship. Certain personas went back into the toybox, so to speak. But like a phantom, certain aspects remained.
Cheerilee was still responsible for Fleur’s safety and well-being. Fleur was still expected to support and honor Cheerilee’s lead. But now there wasn’t the strictness. Now there was more space for other things, like Cheerilee’s doting and Fleur’s mischief.
Fleur took a deep breath, then sighed, her smile widening. “Yes. I think it will.” She winked, “If you kiss me first, cher.”
Cheerilee smirked but sat up and kissed Fleur tenderly, one hand buried in her partner’s hair. She loved her sub’s soft, sensuous lips. She still tasted faintly of sweet wine.
When they entered into the shower together, Cheerilee listened to how much Fleur enjoyed the choking. It was only the second time they’d done it together, but Fleur found she really liked breath play. Cheerilee cautioned that Fleur shouldn’t do it with just anyone. The kink was high risk. Fleur cheekily replied that no one else could take her breath away like Cheerilee could. Cheerilee gave her a light swat on the butt, rolling her eyes at the corny pickup line. Fleur dared to playfully swat Cheerilee’s breast in retaliation, delighting in the way it rippled. Cheerilee won the exchange when she pinched Fleur’s nipple and twisted.
“Oww!” Fleur squeaked, cupping her breast. She shoved her partner gently, barely moving her as she stuck out her tongue. “Cheerilee, you bully!”
“Sensitive much?” Cheerilee laughed softly, reaching for a towel. “I’ll grab the lanolin for you.”
When they were done, they cuddled on the couch with bowls of Moose Tracks ice cream. The rich chocolate ribbons and peanut butter cups began to melt in the warmth of the room. Fleur shamelessly used her cold bowl on her nipples and the bite mark on her breast.
Cheerilee raised an eyebrow at her sub. “Resourceful,” she said dryly as she stood up and went to the refrigerator. “But you’re still getting the proper ice pack.”
They watched a documentary about consumerism. It talked about over-manufacturing and its impact on the environment. It also touched on the impacts on people’s mental health.
Cheerilee sleepily turned the TV off when the show ended. “See?” she said through a yawn. “This society is a mess. It just wants us to buy, buy, buy… But even if my life isn’t glamorous, I’m happy. I get to teach and have fun with the next generation. I earn just enough to fuel my hobby. I don’t really want for anything these days. Things don’t make us happy. Healthy relationships and positive support do.”
Fleur chuckled deep in her throat. Cheerilee looked at her curiously. “What?”
“That’s why,” Fleur said, smiling gently as she put her empty bowl down on the coffee table.
“What do you mean?” Cheerilee asked, blinking drowsily at her.
“To your earlier question. Why did I choose to be with you? That’s the reason.”
Cheerilee lifted her eyebrows. “Because I’m not glamorous?” she asked wryly.
Fleur laughed and rolled her eyes. “No, silly. Because you knew how to be happy with less, and I was miserable with so much. I wanted your secrets. Like how you got so many children to love you.” She bit her lip and hugged Cheerilee’s arm. “Instead, you gave me everything. You gave me purpose. A place to belong,” she whispered, as though she couldn’t quite believe it herself. “Do you know how precious this is to me, mon ami? You cared for me. The real me. Not my wealth or my fame.”
Cheerilee felt her heart squeeze. “It…stands to reason. You’re worth everything.”
Fleur settled in closer as Cheerilee felt a tremor shoot through her. Her lover’s voice was barely a breath. “I love you, Cheerilee.”
Cheerilee closed her eyes and smiled faintly. She gently laid a hand on Fleur’s arm and opened her mouth. Then she snapped her mouth shut, struck by all the times in the past when her relationships hadn’t panned out. She swallowed hard, her throat tight. Then she opened it again and slowly murmured. “I…love you, Fleur.”
They sat in the dark of the living room, their warmth mingling as they listened to the buzz of the refrigerator and the night song of crickets outside—together—not just in love, but learning what it meant to give and receive it fully.
Because love, like learning, never ended—and Cheerilee hoped they would always discover it together.
Author's Note
Does this feel like it's done? Well...it would have been had Fleur not put a gun to my muse's head and insisted I keep writing their story.
I didn't really want another incomplete story in my story list, but I'll try and do my best to bring this to a conclusion. Even if it doesn't get there...well, you'll always have this perfect night to enjoy.
I like to select "end credit" songs for each chapter I write, but for the life of me I couldn't find one that encapsulated everything important in this chapter. I settled on Billy Idol's Flesh for Fantasy. Got any song suggestions, guys?
Anyway...shoo! Go to the next chapter you silly billies.
Recess: Between Desire and Duty
It was three in the morning, and Fleur was sitting on the edge of Cheerilee’s bed gathering her things. Her pale pink aura glowed faintly in the dark as she levitated her belongings into her travel bag with a wiggle of her fingers and an unhappy expression. Her other hand scrubbed at her teeth lethargically with a toothbrush. It wasn’t the early hour that had her so sluggish it was just…she was leaving. Again.
In the beginning, it hadn’t been too difficult to go. She and Cheerilee had been getting to know each other and slowly testing the waters. For a year they’d met twice a month like this, and with time, Fleur found herself being drawn further in. How could she not when her lover was so attentive and self-sacrificing? She knew she had been the first to fall for her calm and collected teacher, but she had a keen eye for feelings. Try as Cheerilee might, Fleur had wriggled her way into her Domme’s heart with charm and persistence. It was the one thing she knew she was good at. The hard part was getting people to stay.
But this time, I am the one who leaves. How miserable, she thought with a little sigh.
Sometimes she left early like this to make it to an event. Today it was purely for the cover of darkness. The crickets still sang into the dark of the morning, lightning bugs flashing in the few hours left before dawn. She knew her ride was already here. Earlier, she’d braved the chill to peek through the curtains to see a dark SUV with the lights turned off just a little down the road.
It was like the herald of her unhappiness.
Fleur’s toes played with each other as she glowered at the curtained window, still scrubbing at her teeth.
The sheets rustled as Cheerilee moved and groaned softly, no doubt turning from the light casting through the bathroom doorway where Fleur had been preparing earlier. She often woke up as her sub prepared to leave. At first, Fleur had felt bad for disturbing her, only to quickly realize the woman was doing it intentionally so she could say goodbye.
She felt Cheerilee touch her back, and Fleur turned, her big violet eyes blinking. Cheerilee’s shadowed face turned to look up at her lover, her dark pink hair tangled about her face and neck in pretty whorls that made Fleur’s breath catch. “Good morning, cher,” Fleur murmured.
“Morning,” Cheerilee yawned. She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around Fleur’s hips. Her body was warm, and she pulled even closer to bury her face into Fleur’s side, hands reaching under the hem of Fleur’s shirt to stroke her smooth belly. It was such a pleasant contact of heat and skin and love that Fleur felt the tears hit her before she even realized what was happening.
What torment. To have such an exquisite heaven. Only to pull away.
She stood up abruptly, making Cheerilee blink at her with her arms still dangling over the side of the bed. Fleur felt her eyes on her as she retreated to the master bathroom, where the warm lights over the mirror illuminated her distressed expression. She rinsed her mouth and spat into the sink, then she practically threw her toothbrush out the door before her magic caught it and levitated it to her bag. Cheerilee had to duck to avoid getting brained in the head by it as she drowsily rolled out of bed and stumbled to the door.
“Fleur? What’s the matter?” the older woman asked, squinting and scrubbing at one eye.
Fleur leaned on the bathroom counter. “You can be so cruel, Cheerilee.”
Cheerilee crossed her arms and leaned on the doorway. Her eyebrows lifted as she let out a gentle scoff. “How so?”
Fleur tried not to look at her, but the large bathroom mirror betrayed her, haunting her with Cheerilee’s sleepy confusion. Her lover was dressed in the same T-shirt as earlier—a gray acid-washed T-shirt that said “Ponyville School District” in peach-colored varsity letters and displayed an image of an apple tree with a cute pony under it reading a book. Simple high-waisted green briefs peeked beneath the hem. She had a little pudge, but Fleur adored the soft curves of her Domme, who bore her unrefined physique with such unabashed confidence it made Fleur envious.
“You are too welcoming when I leave,” Fleur told Cheerilee honestly. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, hoping the tears hadn’t ruined her eyeliner. She’d already finished her makeup and she was dressed in sleek black pants and a fashionable maroon blouse with an unfastened brown vest. With her teeth brushed and her bag packed, all that was left to do was say goodbye and leave.
“When you hold me like that, I do not wish to go,” Fleur said with a choked voice, her chin crumpling. Cheerilee’s forehead creased, her gaze dropping to her bare feet as if searching for words.
One of the lightbulbs buzzed overhead. Through the bathroom window, a dog could be heard barking somewhere. Fleur turned her face and looked down into the sink, where pools of water held the light in strange shapes amidst the swirls of toothpaste yet to be rinsed away. She looked back at the mirror and saw her partner shift.
Cheerilee peeked at her through her blunt bangs. She was older than Fleur by seven years, but the only place you’d see it was the eyes. The teacher carried her age with grace, but her eyes held weariness. She’d lived through enough magical crises in Ponyville, and the struggle she’d endured to establish herself without her grandparents help had been a tale in of itself. And somehow that made it so much worse for Fleur. When Cheerilee looked at her with such care and concern, it bore the weight of real suffering.
That was one of the more intoxicating things about Cheerilee. She was real. Authentic. Fleur was so accustomed to spoiled and vapid people in her celebrity existence that the thought of leaving the one person who saw who she really was felt heart-rending.
Cheerilee rubbed the back of her neck. “Fleur, don’t you have an event in the Dragonlands today?”
Fleur made a face and looked at her. “I do. And so what? It is just another chore.”
“Right. But this was planned weeks in advance.”
“Your point, Cheerilee?”
“My point is that it’s not just you. What about the other people involved?”
“The photoshoot is yet hours away. If I call ahead early enough, then no one is overly inconvenienced. We will simply reschedule.”
“Reschedule.” Cheerilee exhaled, long and quiet as she passed a hand over her eyes. When she looked at Fleur again, it was tiredly. “Like the last three times you used your influence to get your way?”
Fleur clenched her fists on the counter but didn’t say anything. Cheerilee shrugged awkwardly as she tucked a rosy lock behind her ear. “I don’t want you to get into trouble, Fleur. I’m sorry for making you upset. If you’d rather I left you alone on these mornings—”
“No.” Fleur shook her head and stepped toward her. “No, Cheerilee. Please do not pull away. I am sorry for being dramatic. I just find this harder each time because I love you so.”
Cheerilee’s cheeks warmed a little as she scrubbed at her tangled hair. “Fleur…” she sighed.
Fleur grinned, inching closer. “Come on, won’t you say it one more time? It made me so happy when you finally said it last night!”
“‘Finally’?” Cheerilee repeated with a raised eyebrow. She got a laugh in reply.
“But of course.” Fleur flipped her hair and flirted her eyelashes. “Your feelings were obvious to my keen eyes. Why did you think I confessed to you, cher?”
Cheerilee rolled her eyes but smiled and stepped toward Fleur, grabbing her by the waist and kissing her. Fleur felt her heart burn as their lips met, her skin tingling with the contact. When they pulled apart, the woman covered her mouth and turned her head. “Hmph. It must be love if you’ll kiss me with morning breath.”
Now Fleur threw her head back and laughed as she threw her arms around Cheerilee’s neck. She pressed her cheek to her lover’s head with a heavy sigh. “Silly woman. You could be stinking in rags and you’d be the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on.”
Cheerilee squeezed her arms around Fleur before burying her face in Fleur’s neck and sighing. “It… Isn’t easy for me either, Fleur. I always want one more hug. One more kiss. One more game. If you could find a way to stay without getting into trouble, I would welcome the chance. But you can’t. So let’s be responsible adults. There’s always next time, isn’t there? We shouldn’t be greedy.” Every word tickled Fleur’s neck. Did Cheerilee’s sadism extend this far? It was such awful cruelty.
After a long moment standing together, Cheerilee mumbled, “You have to go. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
Fleur held her tighter. “I like trouble.”
Cheerilee started to pull away, leaving Fleur cold. “I mean it, Fleur. You’re under contract.” Her voice was hardening. She was closing herself off again, steeling herself for what had to be done.
Fleur felt the tears prick her eyes again as she petulantly stomped a foot. She didn’t care if she was being greedy and childish! Who wouldn’t want to be where they belonged?! “Tartarus take that damn contract! I will not go.”
Cheerilee finally pulled free of her sub’s arms and cupped Fleur’s face with her hands. Now her creased eyes held worry. Fleur didn’t like to see Cheerilee worry, so she turned her gaze, staring guiltily at her lover’s T-shirt instead. “Fleur,” the older woman murmured. “I’m telling you. Be a good girl and honor your word. You don’t need the modeling agency on your case or another run of bad press. I hate it when they speak poorly of you.”
Fleur pushed her trembling lip out. “Cheerilee…”
Her lover kissed her, softly, an aching brush of the lips, then she pulled Fleur down toward her, turning her head slightly so that she could whisper in her ear. “You can do this. Be my good girl. I’ll see you soon, all right?”
Fleur whimpered but nodded her head once. She was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek for her obedience, and they pulled apart with smiles, but every step she took after that felt so difficult. They said nothing as Fleur exited the bathroom and put on her dark coat and hat. She grabbed her bag from the footboard bench but paused at the door leading to the hallway to look back at Cheerilee, still standing in the bathroom doorway on the other side of the room.
“Adieu, Cheerilee,” Fleur breathed, trying to look brave and knowing she was failing.
Cheerilee smiled at her, and it was such a bittersweet look. “Adieu, Fleur.”
Was Cheerilee’s voice thicker than before? Did her eyes shine with tears like Fleur’s did? With a crumpling chin, Fleur blew her a kiss, then turned and left.
The air nipped unpleasantly outside of Cheerilee’s home. Fleur approached the dark car she’d spotted earlier, shivering. It was a private chauffeur service. The same driver had been given the task of picking her up every other week here at exactly this time. She’d insisted on someone discreet and reliable, someone who would understand the delicate arrangement and honor their part in spiriting Fleur away.
Irrationally, she hated the man. Not because of anything specific he’d done to her—after all, he was only doing what she requested—but because he represented the end of her bi-weekly romance. She didn’t even remember the man’s name. He took her bag and opened the door for her.
Fleur entered the car haughtily, casting him a dirty look. Now and again she had to wipe gingerly at her eyes. Even “incognito” it was important to maintain her appearance. It just wouldn’t do to look unkempt in case of paparazzi cornering her.
Oh, the stupid rules governing her stupid life.
She glowered as she stared out the tinted window of the dark SUV. When the driver turned in his seat and asked if there were any stops she’d like to make before going to the regional airport where her private jet awaited, Fleur snapped that she had nowhere else to be, and the man quietly turned forward, started the engine, and began to drive away.
When they pulled into the street and passed Cheerilee’s home, Fleur thought she saw the curtains of Cheerilee’s bedroom move. She craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman she loved, but they were quickly too far to see. As the sight of her secret haven pulled away, Fleur’s anger shifted inward, circling the familiar refrain of doubts she couldn’t escape.
Fleur clenched her fists. She was good at getting what she wanted. But keeping it, making it last… That was not her strong suit. Could she aspire to something more than this? Was it possible? She sat thinking, furious and miserable, as her chauffeur drove through a quiet Ponyville. Fleur had never actually been able to explore the town. She was dreadfully curious about its quaint businesses and curious people, which were apparently special enough to produce six magical guardians for the kingdom, one of whom ascended and became a princess.
As the vehicle rumbled along, the heater on blast, Fleur daydreamed what it would be like to walk hand-in-hand with Cheerilee here. In her dreams, they were always smiling and laughing. She loved Cheerilee’s laugh. It sounded…motherly. Even during their special games.
But she was trapped by her contract with her modeling agency. It stopped her from doing so much.
Mane Event Modeling was a powerhouse in modeling talent, and Fleur was their biggest client. In exchange for handling scheduling and other bothersome particulars, Fleur gave them a cut of whatever earnings she made. And considering what she earned, it was a fortune. Surely this should give her more clout?
Fleur blew out her cheeks as she leaned on her door and watched the last of Ponyville slip by, the Crystal Castle looming in the distance.
She had some power, yes, but she was under contract. Her ability to negotiate was constrained by the binding legal agreement she’d signed years ago. Cheerilee had encouraged her to work freelance when her contract expired, but even renegotiating the terms with a better lawyer would have made Fleur happier.
Then the woman stilled, blinking at her reflection in the window.
Wait. She was wealthy enough to afford an excellent lawyer and a far more skilled one than when she had started. Could he maybe…?
Fleur hastily dialed and pressed the phone to her ear. She watched anxiously as the SUV passed by Sweet Apple Acres. Another ten minutes and they’d be at the regional airport where she’d get on a jet and fly to the Dragonlands. She didn’t have much time to pull this off.
Her lawyer didn’t answer on the first try. Clenching her teeth, Fleur tried again. He picked up on the third ring.
There was a clatter, and then a drowsy voice mumbled, “Hullo? Fleur de Lis?”
“Paper Hawk,” She said, putting the phone on speaker and pulling up her phone’s scheduling app. “Good morning. I need your assistance.”
“Could this not wait a few more hours?”
“Not if I wish to cancel my event without breaching my contract today.”
There was a rustle and a curse over the line. Fleur saw her driver peek at her in the rearview mirror before he hastily returned his eyes to the road.
When Paper Hawk spoke again, he sounded far more awake. “Remind me, what were you doing today?”
Fleur clicked on the only event for the weekend and squinted at it. “A photo shoot with Dragonlord Ember and some new photographer. A dragonkin named…er, Snarkpuff.”
“You want to cancel on the Dragonlord?!” Paper squawked. “Fleur, Ember is almost on par with the princesses for diplomatic power. Heck, even Snarkpuff is rising meteorically. Did you see his exhibit at the Crystal Empire? You’d be passing up on an important collaboration!”
Fleur groaned, rubbing absently at the bite mark on her tender breast so that it ached a little. It didn’t hurt anymore if she left it alone, but she loved these little souvenirs that Cheerilee gave her, inconvenient though they sometimes were.
“I do not care, Paper. I do not wish to go. Surely there must be some loophole we can exploit in all that fancy legalese?”
“Like what? We can’t just make something up!” She could almost hear him running his hand through his thinning hair. “Fleur, I really think you should—”
She rolled her eyes. “Paper, if you are trying to look out for my best interests, I will kindly ask you to stop.”
“It’s literally what you pay me for! Need I remind you that the last event you turned down had a crowd of over a hundred and twenty-thousand?? And as I said, I can’t just make up an excuse—!”
“So dig out my contract and find the clauses we can use, you silly old man!” Then Fleur bit her lip and bowed her head. Cheerilee had admonished her for treating her employees brusquely in the past. And hadn’t she just received a lecture about treating people with respect? It was just so difficult to keep in mind when her emotions felt so taut and time was so short. “I… I am sorry, monsieur Paper Hawk. I do not mean to snap. But time is of the essence and you are the only one that can help. Will you? Pretty please?”
The man sighed over the phone. Nearly a minute passed, a silent showdown of wills. Fleur sweat, biting her lip as she waited.
She heard a rustling of papers and a weary voice. “I suppose this is why I’m on retainer. Still, I appreciate the good manners. All right, give me a few moments.”
Fleur beamed and bounced in her seat. “Thank you, Paper Hawk!” Her hands practically blurred over her phone as she tapped and swiped. “I am looking over the event details from my agent as well.” Another thing Cheerilee had taught her. She wasn’t a lawyer, but with persistence and help from a lawyer friend, she had gone over Fleur’s contract in an effort to help the supermodel better understand her contractual obligations. One thing she had advised?
“Always check the itinerary the agency gives you, Fleur. They need to be accurate and uniform. If they ever make a critical mistake you can use it to your advantage. Not just a typo, but something that really inconveniences you.”
Carefully, Fleur read over the emailed document. Her eyes slowly crawled over the words, even as her mind raced to find a weakness somewhere, anywhere. The location was correct. The hour seemed reasonable—it gave Fleur enough time to fly there from wherever she was, get settled at a hotel, arrive on set for clothes and makeup, and complete the shoot. Fleur pouted and clicked on another email in the thread of conversation between herself and her modeling agent. Primrose Promise was a very good agent, and Fleur actually liked her very much. But she was on a mission for love and she was certain this would bear out well.
Paper Hawk began to speak as Fleur scanned the latest email from Primrose, her smile curling wider with each passing word. “Fleur,” he said, oblivious to the spark of delight kindling in her expression, “I’m afraid the clauses that would allow you to abruptly break off engagements are... limited. Unless you’re gravely ill, injured, or grieving a close relative, the only option we’re left with is the unreasonable inconvenience clause.”
He barely finished his sentence when Fleur’s eyes lit up, and she brandished her phone triumphantly. “Ah! I think I’ve got it!”
“You—you what?”
“Yes, listen, listen,” Fleur’s knees started bouncing as she eagerly spoke. “Primrose sent a last-minute email in the middle of the night! I did not even see this until now! She says, ‘Fleur, my apologies, but there have been some changes to the photoshoot tomorrow. Due to active volcanic eruptions at the original location, the photoshoot has been moved to the eastern part of the Dragonlands, where the black dune sea is. Because of the distance and location, you will need to leave three hours earlier and be sure to bring—’ Paper, is this enough??”
“Ah, er, this certainly seems to fit the criteria, Fleur. Please forward me the email and I will double-check for you.”
She did so, practically vibrating in her seat as they arrived at the Ponyville regional airport. Though ‘airport’ was being generous. It was really just a single airstrip with a handful of hangars for locals who flew planes, or for large shipments that came by plane. Fleur’s jet was already pulled out, no doubt fueled and ready to go. She could see her skyborn pilot conducting one last-minute inspection, her gray feathered wings rustling on her back as she turned and watched the SUV pull to a stop alongside the jet. Clear Skies, a black ponykin with a dark navy captain’s hat, and a quick laugh. Like her chauffeur, she and Fleur didn’t talk much, but at least the pilot knew more of Fleur’s kindness, judging by the ready smile on her face.
The driver stepped out of the car and opened the door for Fleur since she hadn’t told him to do anything else. She blinked at him, shivering at the sudden breeze of cool morning air that swept into the warm car. The broad man looked at her, his dark eyes and square face perfectly neutral as he waited for her to leave or snap at him. Come to that, he looked braced for it.
Fleur felt a pang of guilt as she looked from him to the pilot, who hastened to stand next to the little steps that led up into the jet.
“Um. Pardon me, but monsieur, what was your name again?” she asked the driver lightly.
The man stared at her for a moment. Eventually, he answered, “Rocky Roll.” He blinked like he couldn’t believe she’d just asked him that.
Fleur inhaled deeply and nodded. Rocky Roll! That was right. She gestured at her phone. “I might not leave just yet, monsieur Roll. Please give me a moment to sort this out—and ask Clear Skies to stand by.”
Rocky Roll’s mouth was open as he processed her uncharacteristic politeness toward him. After a moment, he nodded once, drawing himself up straight again, like he was at attention. The way he moved, she suspected some military background. Ex-Royal Guard perhaps? “Of course, Miss Fleur.” He shut the door and said a quick word to Clear, who snapped a salute and resumed her inspection of the plane with a curious glance. They were not following the normal schedule, the normal routine.
Thank heavens for that.
Fleur peeked nervously at her phone again. At this rate, she was going to be late for her photoshoot no matter what, but the tricky thing about these contractual events was that she still had to notify the agency. And for that, she needed an iron-clad argument.
There was another clatter over the line as Paper Hawk apparently picked up his phone and then spoke. “Fleur, you’re in luck. Under your contractual terms, you have the ability to cancel. Do you want to do a three-way call with Primrose Promise?”
“Yes!” Fleur said. Her heart pulsed anxiously in her chest. Was this really happening? “I will dial her now.”
“Fleur, just a moment,” Paper Hawk said with a little sigh.
The supermodel paused in searching for Primrose’s name on her contact list. “Yes, Paper?”
The older man sounded very serious when he spoke again. “Fleur, this is a major photoshoot with a diplomat and a hard-to-get star photographer. Even if you’re justified in doing this, your agency won’t be pleased. This may cost you some bargaining power later. Especially with all the goodwill you’ve already been burning this year. Are you all right with that?”
Fleur didn’t even need to think about it. “Yes.”
“Don’t be so hasty, Fleur! Just think—”
“Monsieur, respectfully, all I do is think about how this silly contract has trapped me from doing the things that truly make me feel alive and happy. I only have a year left with my agency under these terms. And if I am being perfectly honest? I am considering retirement. If they later wish for me to pose naked with the yakmen in the snow as retribution, I will do so and hope Prince Rutherford joins. But this weekend? I want to be free.”
Rocky Roll, who was sitting in the driver seat again, actually looked back with wide eyes. This time Fleur caught him and winked, making the man blush and whip forward again. Paper Hawk chuckled lightly over the phone. “All right, Miss Fleur. Please have Primrose join our call.”
Fleur tapped the green button on her phone screen, then they waited as it rang. Unlike Paper Hawk, Primrose Promise answered on the first try.
“Fleur! Hi, hello, and hey. Please tell me you saw my email and you’re already on your way?” Primrose sounded cheery, but strained, like she had eight arms and was cooking, cleaning, and finding a cure for the common cold all at once.
The supermodel winced. “Primrose, I’m afraid I am not. We have something serious to discuss.”
“Oh no…” Primrose groaned.
Fleur nodded with a pursed-lip smile. “Prim, it will be all right. But I’m afraid—”
She jerked back when Primrose wailed at the top of her lungs. “Oh nooooo! You’re doing it again, aren’t you?! Fleur, please don’t. Do you know how hard Ember is to get for a photoshoot?? She hates cameras!”
Fleur shrugged and wheeled a hand through the air. “Well if she wishes to cancel, then perhaps this will not be so—”
“Ember is like a unicorn in the photography world. It was hard enough getting her to agree to the reschedule! People of state do not just do this kinda thing willy nilly, Fleur—!”
Fleur held the phone away from her as she frowned and tried to think. This was going to need all her charm and wit to fix if Primrose’s swift panic was anything to go by. So what were her options? She was at Ponyville. What could she do while here…?
Now, hold on. Didn’t she pass the Crystal Castle on the way here? The literal home of one of the princesses?
Her eyes brightened as the starting of an idea began to coalesce in her mind. She tapped her lips and looked around eagerly, Prim jabbering on without her. Everyone in Ponyville was close, right? And that included the Princess of Friendship and her friends, didn’t it? Cheerilee had said the Princess and the Guardians of Harmony stopped by the school often. Maybe she could…?
Fleur hastily brought the phone back to her face. “Prim, chaton, I can make this up to you. I promise.”
“What in Equestria could you possibly do to make up for this, Fleur?? You’re not the only one sick of working with Mane Event Modeling! My resume needs more juice!”
“I’m starting to see why you and your agent get along so well, Fleur,” Paper muttered over the line.
“F-Fleur, is that Paper Hawk? You’re lawyering up on me? I thought we were friends!”
Fleur felt herself sweating bullets as, for once, she wasn’t the one losing it. “Prim, Prim! Please, you must understand, I’m—”
“You know the agency is going to hang me for this, right?!”
“Miss Promise, my client is well within her right to—”
“Don’t talk to me about rights you farting old corpse, this is my career we’re talking about here. Butt out!”
“Farting old—I beg your pardon?!”
Fleur covered her face. If she’d thought she could slip out of this without an ear-lashing, she supposed Cheerilee’s lessons about accountability were long overdue for a refresher. The universe just wasn’t that generous.
Muting her microphone, Fleur listened to her lawyer and modeling agent trade barbs. The sky was already lightening to a rosy plum.
Scooting to the very edge of her seat, Fleur hugged the seat in front of her and rested her cheek on the back of the headrest as she eyed Rocky. The man tried very valiantly to pretend a supermodel wasn’t currently staring at the side of his head, but he caved when Fleur leaned in and blew on his ear.
“M-May I help you, miss?” He asked, looking at her with a cornered expression.
Fleur screwed her mouth to one side of her face. After a moment of consideration, she shook her head. “No. You have been a very good driver, monsieur Roll, but I have not been a very good employer. I am sorry that I have been so…mmm, let us say, unkind.”
Rocky Roll pursed his lips and shook his head. “Speak nothing of it, miss. You pay well, and it’s easy work.”
“Yes, but a beautiful woman once told me that healthy relationships and positive support is what makes one happy. And if every person is an end within themselves, not a means to an end, then surely I should treat those who work with me better, non?” She grimaced and lowered the volume on her phone’s speaker as Primrose resorted to screaming the word ‘boomer’ at Paper over and over. Flipping her hair back, Fleur scooted over and rested her head on the shoulder of the front passenger seat. Rocky glanced at her nervously. “May I call you, Rocky, monsieur Roll?”
“Um. Sure. Th-That’s fine,” Rocky said, his cheeks pinking slightly. “Not sure I deserve a fancy title like that, though.”
“Monsieur Rocky. Oooh! I like the ring of that. You mustn’t blush so, it is a fine way to address a capable man such as yourself.” Fleur was grinning at her driver’s awkward but pleased expression when her ear tweaked to the sound of her name being called over the phone. The grin wiped from her face. “Ah, drat. I am being summoned. A moment, please.”
Clearing her throat, Fleur unmuted her microphone and held her device up. “Ahem, yes?”
She listened as Primrose shrilly told Fleur that she owed her a massive favor for this. Paper Hawk snootily reminded Primrose that punitive agendas could and would result in a lawsuit. This made the normally cheery modeling agent remark that she’d forgotten Paper was there without the creaking of his boomer’s voice. The man snapped back that maybe if Primrose wanted to hear creaking so bad, she should go back to the shack she used to pimp clients out from. And on and on it went…
But Fleur barely heard any of it, because she was smiling and weeping quietly.
She’d done it. She could stay. And somehow she was still taking accountability for it. Would Cheerilee be proud? Fleur hoped she would be.
Pressing the phone to her chest as her agent and lawyer quarreled some more, Fleur leaned toward Rocky, whose smile looked ready to bolt from his face at any given moment, but whose eyes sparked with cautious delight.
“Monsieur? Do you know of a place where I could purchase flowers here in town? And we must get poor Clear Skies out of the cold and give her a meal for her efforts. Are you hungry? Come, let us have an early breakfast. My treat.” She paused blinking, then looked at him helplessly. “Er…do you have recommendations for places that are open?”
Rocky Roll smiled as he put his hand on his door handle. “A few, miss. Let me talk to Clear Skies.”
Cheerilee couldn’t fall back to sleep. She seldom did after Fleur left. She lay in bed, her room dark, watching the walls grow lighter and lighter. There was such a massive pit in her chest, she wasn’t sure she could get out of bed even if she wanted to. Next to her, the sheets still held some of Fleur’s warmth, and when Cheerilee rolled over to lay in it, she was dismayed to discover the pillows still held the scent of Fleur’s perfume.
Exasperated, she hugged the pillow to her chest and screamed into it.
She really, really missed Fleur.
She was frustrated with herself for feeling this way. What was she, fifteen again? She was in her thirties! She didn’t have time for this!
Granted, she had an extra day off for a long weekend thanks to the third annual festival celebrating the defeat of Tirek. It lasted three whole days. She’d originally been planning on just watching the inaugural parade, then going home and grading papers, then watching television until she passed out on the couch.
She had other plans, of course. She did! They just…all involved staring at Fleur’s photos online. Reading articles about her sub. Laughing at the rumors. Yelling to no one about the bad press.
By the time Cheerilee realized the spiral she was in, the sun was just starting to rise. The pattern was becoming plain as day. If she stayed here, it would be bad. She knew she needed to get out of the house, and she certainly needed to do more than just silently watch the world pass her by. She needed to talk to someone.
Sadly, her list of people to confide in was short. It wasn’t that she didn’t have many friends, but this sort of thing? She needed a good listener. Someone without prejudice who could take her thoughts and not hastily draw unhelpful conclusions. She also needed someone, er, awake this early. And as luck would have it, she knew of one person who would be all of these things. She called them, hoping this wouldn’t be the one day her friend would be unavailable, but she heaved a sigh of relief when she was given the okay to come over.
She cleaned herself up and then started the coffee maker. As it brewed a new pot, she put on comfortable jeans, a long-sleeved blouse, and a green knitted sweater. She poured some coffee into a travel mug, no cream or sugar, then grabbed an opened package of coffee cake and headed out the door.
She didn’t own a car. In such a small town as Ponyville? It wasn’t usually necessary. And Cheerilee liked walking. She liked seeing the morning dew clinging to the grass and the way her neighbor Matilda’s daisies seemed to catch the scattered light of the morning, making them pop in their planters. She could hear cars rumbling, and people talking, and someone had finally shut up that dog that had been barking hours ago. This was Ponyville coming alive, and after living here all her life, Cheerilee felt every bit a part of the town as it had become a part of her.
She walked with purpose, but she looked around keenly, hoping to catch familiar faces. Early though it still was, she did manage to spy a few people about their business.
“Hello, Roseluck. How’s the business doing? I may have to stop by for some fresh bouquets later. They do so much to brighten my home—”
“Oh, hi Mr. Cake! How’s your back pain? Ah, I’m sorry to hear that…”
“Hello Berryshine. Thank you for helping Piña Colada with her homework, by the way. She turned it in on time. Just keep helping your sister with her capitalization please…”
And on and on until she found herself walking a country road. Rows and rows of apple trees spanned next to her, and the air smelled fresh. During the spring, she loved the blossoms carrying their scent on the wind here.
When Cheerilee arrived at Sweet Apple Acres, it was to find her friend, Big Macintosh, loading a horse-drawn carriage with the day’s selection for the market. He greeted her with a smile, and she grinned holding up her package of coffee cake. Their greetings were always silent, but she found she preferred this.
They retired to an old picnic bench near the barn, and Cheerilee just…talked. Big Macintosh was an expert listener, and ever since Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo had tried to play matchmaker between them, the pair had become closer friends.
“I’m… seeing someone. It’s been a year now, but it’s kind of long-distance. She lives far away, and we only get together twice a month.” She paused here, feeling emotionally like she’d just summited a mountain. She wasn’t accustomed to talking about her love life, but she was a big believer in practicing what you preach, and after all the advice she’d given to others, she knew she couldn’t bottle up this particular dilemma.
But even if she wanted to give herself a pat on the back, Big Macintosh just lifted his eyebrows significantly and held up his hands.
Okay? And?
Cheerilee furrowed her eyebrow and took a sip of her drink, taking something from the warmth burning down her throat before she sallied forth once again. “It’s surprised me. That’s all. That this whole thing has worked as long as it has.” She leaned over and nudged him, her little elbow barely shifting his hulk of muscle. “Remember the last partner I had? Six months.”
A record. But even then her cynicism had waited for the other foot to drop. What stung the most was that the other person had just…stopped returning her calls. She’d even bought them a gift, but after holding out for two months, she’d turned around and given it to someone else for their birthday. Then she’d put out…the ad. A long shot to beat all long shots. She’d had no hope that it would amount to much. Then Fleur had become a part of her life.
Cheerilee sat frozen, staring out at the vast rows of trees that dotted Sweet Apple Acres. She felt truly silly for not seeing the parallels between her and Fleur’s lives. Was this why they worked? Because…they were both lonely? Because they were so used to people leaving that they worked harder to make others stay? But whereas Fleur gave in excess, Cheerilee refused to chase and beg. She had her students, and her friends at Ponyville. Her life was not empty. She didn’t need to resort to the dramatics of her sub.
So then why did she feel this way?
Big Mac glanced at her as he popped another crumb of coffee cake into his mouth. Cheerilee sighed. “It’s great that there’s someone who wants to be with me, Big Mac. It’s nice. But… I want to be with her too. And it… Hurts. Because we can’t. She’s so busy, and there’s other things that complicate matters.” She leaned back on the picnic table with her elbow and sighed again. “I’m happy. And I’m miserable. Is this what love is like?”
Big Mac nodded his head sagely. “Eyup.”
Cheerilee sipped at her coffee, then puckered her lips in thought. Big Mac had married Sugar Belle a little over a year ago. The way he told it—and he said quite a lot if one just paid attention—his journey to marriage had been a long and painful one filled with missed opportunities, terrible misunderstandings, and lots of angsty pining.
She’d scoffed at the idea. Sounds like a lot of hassle, she’d said, knowing full well she sounded like a cynical spinster and not caring a whit. Now…?
When Big Mac pointed at her mug, then himself, she grinned and handed it to him. The man sipped and grimaced, thrusting it back at her with clear disgust. She laughed at him. “Oh Mac, they say it’s healthier for you!”
“Nope.” He shook his head emphatically, spat onto the dirt, and shoved a large piece of cake into his mouth.
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, gazing out at the sun, which had just cleared the horizon. Then the man shifted toward her and held up a finger. When she blinked at him, he raised an eyebrow and wagged the finger at her, then held the finger up again.
“One?” Cheerilee ventured with tensed eyes. At his patient nod, she scratched her head and tried to think. “One… chance?” He shook his head, his orange bangs falling into his amused green eyes, which were a deeper and darker shade than hers. Now Cheerilee frowned.
It was true that she could understand his thoughts much better than before their new friendship, but it still could be said that of all the kin in Ponyville, only Sugar Belle, Applejack, Apple Bloom, and Granny Smith could intuit the man’s thoughts on the first try. Cheerilee thought and thought. Then her eyes lit up. “Wait—you think she’s the one?”
Now the man smiled, showing teeth. He nodded his head once more, then took another messy bite of coffee cake, big crumbs on his lips.
Cheerilee blushed for the first time and looked up at the blue and gold sky. “It’s possible. Maybe. I don’t really want to get ahead of myself.”
Big Mac hummed, pursing his lips and nodding. Understandable. He held up a hand. But hey, enjoy it while it lasts. He looked at her and winked. Right?
She grinned crookedly and nodded. “Right.” Her grin faded a little and she looked down as she turned the travel mug in her hands, her fingers a little pink from the morning chill. “Except she gets so sad when she has to leave. And I’m always a mess afterward. It’s exhausting. Can this really be sustainable?”
Now the man scoffed and waved the thought away like the silly thing it was. Don’t overthink it.
She crossed her legs and wiggled a foot in the air, her brows drawing together again. “Why shouldn’t I think about that, Big Mac? I’m in my mid-thirties. I have a career. Did you know that Mayor Mare is talking about expanding the schoolhouse and hiring more teachers? She’s talking about making me the principal.”
He whistled and looked at her with a big smile. She returned it and bobbed her head. “Yes! It’s great. I’m thrilled that we’re getting more students. I was almost afraid the School of Friendship was going to force the schoolhouse to close.” She hastily held up her hands, her head twisting to make sure no one had heard. “Don’t get me wrong, the other school has its merits. But we need a place focused on the basics—reading, math, science. Kids need a solid foundation before the big-picture stuff.”
“Eeeyup,” Big Mac said, leaning on the table, making it creak with his weight. “Philosophy’s for the grown-ups. Granny says you can’t build a barn till you’ve got your hammer.”
“Exactly.” Cheerilee settled back against the picnic table, smiling faintly as she saw Apple Bloom running across the lawn to greet Sweetie and Scootaloo. Apparently, the Cutie Mark Crusaders were starting their adventures early today. “It was a good thing that Twilight and Starlight agreed with me. But I was thinking we could do a summer program. Maybe as a way to help kids transition? The School of Friendship would make such a good secondary school to the kids in the area—” She caught Big Mac’s eye and chuckled. “Sorry, I’m rambling again. Education just gets me fired up.”
Big Mac nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as his eyes flashed with knowing.
Cheerilee’s smile faltered for just a moment, her thoughts shifting to Fleur again. If Mayor Mare succeeded in expanding the school and made her principal... The time she’d have to dedicate to it, the late nights... The thought made her stomach twist. There would be less time for her dates with Fleur. Certainly for their special games. But she reluctantly acknowledged that, sometimes, there were more important things to prioritize.
It was all just as well that she got off on this tangent. Big Mac was going to have to go back to work soon, and she hated leaving him worrying about her. Nothing put people at ease quite like sounding confident about a plan. She had many ideas about Ponyville’s educational future, and for the longest time, she had resigned herself to having nothing else to pour herself into.
And now there was Fleur.
Cheerilee sighed inwardly as she hugged Big Macintosh. She gave him her bravest face, and he seemed satisfied with it. He patted her on the back encouragingly as they walked back to his home.
She was very good at putting on a face. Code-switching was one of her better skills, and she did it so often. One moment she was the shrewd but loving teacher. The next she was the helpful neighbor. Another and she was the stern lecturer.
She took a moment to say hello to Sugar Belle and Applejack, who were both making breakfast at the Apple family home. She apologized for spoiling Big Mac’s appetite, and Applejack laughed and said, “Who? Big Mac? More like Big Black Hole. That man’s a bottomless pit, Miss Cheerilee.” They had all laughed as Big Mac put his sister into a playful headlock. Here? Cheerilee had on her, “punctilious neighbor” face on.
When she left the house, her young students spotted her and ran over. “Miss Cheerilee, Miss Cheerilee!” They cried, their pink glowing faces turned up at her with gap-toothed smiles.
She smiled patiently at them, her teacher mode instantly shifting into place as she listened to them trip over themselves talking about how they’d aided a ponykin boy with discovering his cutie mark talent yesterday after school. The boy, who was magicbound like Fleur and Sweetie, wasn’t local to Ponyville, only coming to visit with his family for the three-day festival.
“He can tame snakes!” Sweetie Belle shrieked, pulling at her face.
Apple Bloom pointed eagerly at her cheek, where ponykin could conjure their cutie marks at will. “His cutie mark is a snake with all these shiny sparks and whirly-doos around it. You won’t believe how he got it!”
Scootaloo waved her arms, her messy mop of hot pink hair flopping into her light purple eyes as her stunted wings buzzed on her back. “Yeah, yeah! We were trying to find his special talent by the woods when—” her friends nudged her, and she halted, but Cheerilee’s eyes narrowed.
“By the woods. You wouldn’t happen to mean the Everfree Forest, would you, girls?” she asked shrewdly.
The girls shuffled their feet, their eyes casting about looking at everything but Cheerilee. The older woman sighed as she put her hand on her hip. “Girls…”
“Nothin’ serious happened, Miss Cheerilee,” Apple Bloom hastily explained. She twirled her fingers together even as her shoulders hunched up about her ears. “It was just an ordinary snake that scared us. Not a cockatrice or a timber wolf or anything serious like that.”
Cheerilee clicked her tongue at them. “Be that as it may, you all know that the Everfree Forest is no place to play! You should only go there with an adult. How many more close calls with monsters do you need before you finally listen, girls?”
They kicked at the ground and bowed their heads, mumbling apologies.
“You aren’t going to tell our parents, are you Miss Cheerilee?” Sweetie Belle asked with puppy-dog eyes.
Cheerilee sighed heavily as she regarded her, arguably, most worrisome students. Oh, they behaved well enough in class, and they mostly kept up with their schoolwork, but of all the children, none had such a close relationship with the Guardians of Harmony as these three did. The number of times Cheerilee had a heart attack watching the girls being in the middle of some dangerous caper on the news left the woman fretting that she’d get gray hairs before she even turned forty. Between these kids and Fleur, she really didn’t need anything more to worry about.
After a long moment of thought, Cheerilee leaned forward onto her knees and said, “How about this? If you’re all free from any chores, then come with me to the first day of the Triumph Over Tirek Festival. We’ll have breakfast and enjoy the parade, then you can help me grade the younger students’ papers this afternoon before the night’s events. All right?” She had a wry look on her face. This was one way of keeping the girls out of trouble, she supposed.
Their eyes brightened as they bounced and clapped their hands. “Yes!”
“Good. Then hurry and tell your guardians. I will meet you at the Ponyville Town Hall, okay?”
“Okay!” They chorused, then rushed off, all joy and mischief.
Cheerilee smiled faintly as they went. Perhaps today would not be so bad. Her place was here, among these earnest and caring people. It was a special weekend, after all, full of laughter and familiar comforts. She should have known better than to think her friends and neighbors would let her sulk alone in her home all day. She was not abandoned. She had other loved ones.
Yet as she left Sweet Apple Acres, the warmth of the gathering lingered behind her, and the hollow quiet of her own thoughts crept back in.
She was used to living with so many masks, each tailored to the people she cared for—bright, cheerful, unshakable. Proper. It was a role she played well, and they seemed to love her for it.
But there had been one person who had seen through those masks without effort. One person who had looked straight past her careful smiles to the dark, unspoken corners of her soul and didn’t flinch. Didn’t ask her to change.
Just like her, those corners didn’t quite fit in this world.
And now that person was gone.
The ache settled low in her chest, as familiar as it was unwelcome. No matter how surrounded she was, Cheerilee felt unmoored, her truest self left behind in the gaze of someone who was no longer there to hold it.
Fleur bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, a bouquet of roses in her hands. She rang the doorbell one more time. Three minutes had passed already! Surely Cheerilee wasn’t still sleeping. “Where are you, mon ami?” she whispered, peering into the darkened windows.
Behind her, Rocky Roll shifted awkwardly, balancing Fleur’s travel bag and a cup of coffee. Clear Skies sipped her own drink, a bag of food in hand.
“Erm, miss? Maybe your friend’s out for the day?” Rocky ventured hesitantly.
Fleur pouted, crossing her arms. “But she loves to sleep in on her days off.”
Clear Skies shrugged, thumbing toward town. “This weekend’s the Triumph Over Tirek Festival. Maybe she went early to get stuff done?”
Fleur froze, then slapped a weary hand over her face. “Oh, mon dieux, the festival! Of course. Finding her in that crowd—it will be impossible!”
“Maybe call her?” Clear Skies offered, looking far too amused as she took another sip of coffee.
Rocky glanced nervously at the SUV, clearly imagining the nightmare of navigating blocked roads and festival-goers. His usefulness, it seemed, was waning rapidly.
But Fleur had no time for their concerns. A call? How unromantic. “It lacks drama! Finesse!” she declared, throwing up her hands. A few rose petals shed from the bouquet, fluttering to the ground and she winced.
“Well,” she sighed theatrically as she inspected the roses, “we cannot let our meals go to waste. Come! Let us sit, eat, and plan our next move. This is no ordinary errand—this is a quest of the heart!”
With a dramatic flourish, she turned and marched toward the car, her expression resolute. “She will not escape me—not today, not ever!”
Rocky and Clear exchanged a glance before following, one amused, the other resigned. Fleur’s determination could rival any festival crowd, and heaven help Cheerilee when she found her.
Author's Note
The end credits were much easier to find here, heh.
That's all I have so far! I've started the next chapter already, but I have to finish the other requested fics in my queue. I hope you all like this, and I hope to see you all soon with another one!
