"- of course I told her Barbra Streisand. Barbra Streisand is such a phenomenal actress! I've watched all of her productions. I can quote every line from Funny Girl and Wicked on a whim."

Quinn exhaled loudly through her nose. A very persistent fly buzzed about, insisting on using her muzzle as a place to rest. She ignored Rachel's amused chuckle, using her massive paws to swat away the current bane of her existence.

She growled lowly as the snow from earlier showers clung to the pads beneath her paws, large blocks of ice lodging themselves in between her claws. She really hated the winter. She'd normally shift into her human form to avoid such problems, but it was deathly cold and she hadn't brought a jacket for some ill-advised reason. A lion wasn't particularly built to withstand such cold climates, but her increased body temperature helped a bit.

Rachel was clad in a dark green parka, comfortable black tights and tan Ugg boots. A lighter green cashmere scarf was wrapped around her neck, and mitt gloves adorned her hands. She'd had enough sense to forgo a skirt today.

She continued to gush about Broadway as they walked to school. It was much too cold and icy for Rachel to drive. They had her to clear the roads from the slush. Quinn's occasional ear flicks and the whipping of her tail concluded she was indeed listening to Rachel, much the the brunette's appreciation.

"- I was six and oh my goodness!"

"Look out!"

Quinn and Rachel quickly vacated the spot they were previously standing as a large, black horse skidded past them on stubby, unstable limbs, Brittany clinging onto her back for dear life. Quinn watched, unamused as the horse crashed into a rather high pile of shoveled snow.

The old man who'd been clearing his precious garden of the frost thrust his shovel onto the ground in exasperation, throwing up his hands in defeat as he trudged back into his home. Brittany was laughing gleefully as she rose to her feet, cheeks flushed and her knit beanie hanging off of her head. She was nearly in tears, she was laughing so hard.

Santana grunted in exertion as she tried for the umpteenth time to rise to her feet, but her horseshoes made it nearly impossible. She flopped back down, collapsing under her own massive body weight.

"I told you this was a bad idea." Brittany guffawed.

Santana looked at her pleadingly. Brittany rubbed her sub's snout as she nodded her head in approval. With a neigh of discomfort, Santana shifted into her human form.

Now, Santana's approximately sixty-six to sixty-eight inches tall and probably weighs over 900 kilos (2,000 pounds) in all her Submissive glory. Rachel expected her to be a woman of impressive height and a solid build, but here's a small girl not much taller than herself!

She looked to be of Hispanic descent, but with a mixture of something more. Her hair was as dark as her horse's hide, and nearly as long, reaching her lower back in glossy black waves. Her bronzed skin contrasted greatly with the pale snow, full lips pulled back into a grimace of discomfort irritation. Dark brows were furrowed over equally dark eyes in irritation.

She wore a grey hoodie and simple black skinny jeans with expensive name brand shoes Rachel didn't know the name off, but were very popular with the athletic teams. The clothes were simple, but the beauty of this girl made them seem like they were of Gucci and Prada status.

"What're you looking at fluffy?" She snapped at Quinn, who sat on her haunches glaring daggers at the dark-haired woman. Quinn growled menacingly, baring her teeth in challenge.

"Shush Quinn. It's rude to growl at people," Rachel chided, wagging her finger in front of Quinn's nose like she was a disobedient puppy. The nerve of this girl! Quinn admired her fearlessness at times, but not at this particular moment. "I'm Rachel Berry." She said excitedly to Santana.

"We've met before. I rode you, remember?"

Either Rachel didn't notice the possible double meaning to her statement or she chose to ignore it. Santana stared at her hand with her lip curled in contempt. "I know, Berry. Everyone knows who you are."

Rachel smiled. "I figured, but I thought it would be polite to properly introduce myself to you. You have a very beautiful Submissive form. May I ask what particular breed of draft horse you are? I did some research on them after class yesterday. However, you do not resemble the Persian breed." She rambled.

"Oh, that's because she's a Belgian Draft horse." Brittany cut in excitedly as she gazed fondly at Santana, who stared at Rachel with a bewildered look in her dark eyes. "She's so strong. She can pull almost anything. One summer, my car broke down at the gas station, and she was able to pull it all the way home. Luckily I keep her hitching gear in my trunk."

Quinn and Santana groaned loudly as their Dominants indulged themselves in animated, fast paced chatter. Quinn rolled onto her back in annoyance as Santana squatted down and began to dust the snow from her expensive shoes. "Control your midget, Kovu." Santana spat.

Swiping a massive paw-full of snow into Santana's face, Quinn flicked her tail in satisfaction. "Oh, you're so dead!"

Eventually, Rachel's phone chimed, signaling she had exactly fifteen minutes to get to school. She had a specific morning ritual. She'd get up at five thirty, exercise, shower and dress by six fifteen, eat and be walking out the door by six-forty five. She liked to be at school at exactly seven so she could have the auditorium to herself.

She was very serious about her punctuality and maintains her perfect attendance. She's never missed a day of school a day in her life! She snapped her head around to her submissive and frowned. Santana had Quinn in a very professional head-lock while bearing multiple scratch marks, and Quinn has a mouthful of her long, black locks.

"Quinn! Stop dawdling! We're going to be late!" She snapped.

Santana hadn't thought it would be possible for a lion to face-palm. She was proved wrong.

K/C-PWF

"I hope you're happy, Kovu. My fucking hair smells like lion breath." Santana growled as the two subs made their way to their first period class, which they unfortunately shared as of now due to a schedule change on Santana's part. Quinn just rolled her eyes.

Submissive History 3-4 wasn't the most fun subject, but it did give insight on their history, famous submissive icons, and laws.

They walked into the half full class, making a beeline for the back row. They'd rather sit next to each other than have to endure those other idiots. They sat seven inches apart, both crossing their arms and glaring daggers at the Mohawk boy approaching them.

"Sup ladies." He said smoothly, taking the seat a row over.

"Go play in traffick, mutt." Santana spat, pulling a nail filer from seemingly out of nowhere.

Noah Puckerman was the Submissive to a nerdy, big lipped boy named Sam Evans. He'd been appalled that his Dominant was a man instead of his beloved women, but he grew to like him. He still flirted with women, but never taking it further, not that Sam minded. He was incredibly nice and rather good looking. He was a bulky Rottweiler with long hair between his ears, simulating his Mohawk.

"So hostile. What about you blondie? You want to take the Puckenator for a spin?" He said, waggling his eyebrows.

He didn't know how he ended up getting sent to the nurse with a broken thumb, he just knew it hurt.

K/C-PWF

"You need to collar Ms. Fabray as soon as possible. I would advise a Shocker. Her temper is out of control. She is a danger to herself as well as other students." Principle Figgins said as Rachel and Quinn sat in his office following the incident.

Quinn was sitting rim-rod straight in her chair, arms and legs crossed as she kept her eyes trained on the floor. Rachel sat beside her, watching cautiously as the way her muscles clenched with vicious intensity.

"Have you discussed a collar?" He asked.

Rachel mutely shook her head as Quinn began to two her foot impatiently. He sighed as he dug through his drawer, pulling out a jet black whip. He wordlessly handed the whip to Rachel as he gestured for them to leave.

Rachel felt sick. She knew what she had to do. As she and Quinn walked over to the D room she counted down from a million to try and calm her anxiety.

They walked silently down the D row. Rachel could hear the cracks of whips as other Dominants disciplined their subs. It wasn't cruel, it was a way of life. It's how bonds were formed and strengthened.

They found an empty room. Quinn wordlessly took off her shirt and sank to her knees.

10 lashes for a minor offense.

15 for medium, and so on.

Violence amongst subs was not tolerated. Her punishment was 25.

"Quinn, you have to learn how to control your temper-" Rachel began.

"Just hit me please." Quinn said, flinching internally as Rachel uttered those strikingly familiar words.

She didn't even feel the first fifteen.

K/C-PWF

Quinn needed Rachel to be strong. Rachel, undoubtedly, had a pure heart. She was strong, she was fearless, but could she be a leader? Could she be a dominant?

She heard all the horrible things many said about her dominant, but she believed Rachel was chosen specifically for her. She believed things happened for a reason and this was simply Fate.

She held the sobbing brunette in her arms as her back vaguely throbbed. Rachel would grow out of it.

K/C-PWF

To be continued...