A/N #1: Hello all, and thank you for the wonderful reviews and following! Hopefully, I haven't kept you waiting for too long. ;) And for Trixxy, who thought I was mean, I hope this chapter makes amends…

A/N #2: To my Fanfic friends, you might want to settle down with your vegan popcorn and something to drink. This is going to be quite an extended adventure. What can I say? Broadway inspired me… In fact I have broken it into two parts to save my sanity and yours. If you feel so moved, click that Review button at the bottom of the page. If not, so be it! Enjoy…

A/N #3: WARNINGS: Contains ass play… You've been warned. Not your cup of tea? Move on. No hurt feelings.

A/N #4: I do not own these characters. Sadly, all I own are the mistakes.

Chapter 2: Funny Girl – Night One…

"Don't Rain on (Her) Parade" – Part One

As the chimes of the doorbell sang their last, I heard footsteps approaching and a faint, "I'm coming," float through the door. 'Not yet, but you will be,' I thought to myself with a smile. Very rarely did we have an opportunity for an all-night sleepover where parents weren't in the near vicinity. We did well to take advantage of them.

The first time one of these opportunities "for uninhibited sexual exploration" (Berry's words, not mine…) presented itself, we had been dating for about four months. It was Valentine's Day and Rachel's dads were spending a romantic weekend in Cleveland, however romantic Cleveland could be. That weekend, I decidedly got more than I bargained for with Rachel.

Previously, our love life had kept to its mostly vanilla flavoring; however, I noticed in our past encounters that even when I was on top, Rachel still had an affinity for control, always finding a way to top me. And dirty talk? Hell, that girl had a mouth on her that a case of soap couldn't cure. I, on the other hand turned out to be easily submissive, which was a strange concept for me at first. Quinn fucking Fabray was canon Head Bitch in Charge in every aspect of her life, sans one apparently— the bedroom. Wait, I should clarify, in the bedroom… with Rachel Berry. Who knew that the control I once needed with my boyfriends was my inner lemon fighting off their testosterone?

That weekend, I became a true believer in Rachel's psychic ability because she managed to work my body over better than I or anyone else ever could. She knew exactly how to push me into my new sexual identity, "Rachel Berry's bitch." That weekend also marked my introduction to the "toy box." Apparently, Ms. Berry liked the kink. I was wary in the beginning, but when those chocolate orbs looked up to me and her lips formed the words, "Trust me…," I knew right then, I would never be able to say no to her. So, trust her I did and the munchkin actually rocked my world. From then on, my body was her personal playground. Don't get me wrong, I played the pleasure hand equally as well, but I had no problem in catering to my woman's needs and wants. That weekend then was forever known as "The Reeducation of Quinn Fabray."

I waited for the front door to swing open. As if directly connected to my psyche, the door magically opened on cue presenting an empty threshold. Curious, I stepped through.

"Rach? Sweetie?" I called to a seemingly empty house.

No sooner than I turned to shut the front door, did it close forcefully, and there stood Rachel wearing nothing but tanned skin, holding an apple with a bite taken out of it. Juice beaded on the outside of the peel, running down her thumb, as a droplet spilled over her lip. She chewed the lucky bite seductively, rolling it around with her tongue and crushing each bit between her teeth with devious calculation. I could tell she was searching my face for all of the clues that would help her determine her next move: wide eyes, check; open mouth, check; rapidly increased breathing, check; hunger and lust, check and check.

"Hi, Quinnie. Want a bite?" She purred. Her tongue darted down to clean the escaping droplet.

I licked my lips before catching the bottom one between my teeth, and unexpectedly, I experienced my first hot flash then and there at the tender age of 18. Holy hell, no wonder my mother was cranky all the time. I instinctively squeezed my thighs together, hoping to create a satisfactory friction for the time being, and mindlessly nodded my head.

She sauntered toward me, trailing her free hand up my right arm and across my shoulders as she circled me like prey. Placing her right hand flat to my lower back, she gazed at me slightly over my left shoulder. I turned my head to read her expression. Her eyes would tell me anything I wanted to know about what went on in that pretty little head of hers. One word swirled in her dark pupils, feral. She planned on pushing me tonight and the thought alone scared the shit out of me.

Suddenly, I felt a strict smack against my left ass cheek, and I yelped as I jerked my hips forward. My movement was stilled and my hand slapped away when I reached to soothe it. Fuck. This was new.

Rachel kept her place at my side and pushed up on her tiptoes, whispering in my ear, "I want you to use your big girl words tonight, Quinn, and don't make me remind you again."

I began to nod, then remembered her demand. "Yes."

Never leaving her raised position, she prompted me again, "Yes what, Sweetie?"

"Yes, Rachel, I would like a bite of the apple please."

"There's my girl," she cooed as she lowered herself to a standing position again.

She offered me a bite of the apple still in her hand. Shaking off the glaze from my mind after her show of dominance, I turned my focus to the fruit as she looked on with a coy smile and raised eyebrow. I couldn't help but see the irony from the Garden of Eden. Here was this woman with tempting fruit who would inevitably lead me into corruption, but what a sweet downfall it would be. I went to open my mouth to take a small bite, because, really? Fuck the apple.

Rachel watched this and the size of my bite apparently was not going to suffice for her. She brought her hand down firmly again, this time rougher.

"AAG-gmph," as I opened my mouth wider to protest, Rachel shoved the apple into my mouth and soothed my still slightly burning ass cheek. I bit off what I could and she took the fruit from me. She brought herself around to look me square in the eye and used her middle finger and thumb to wipe the juice that messily dribbled over my lips and chin as I chewed frantically.

"Good girl, Quinnie. Juicy, wouldn't you say? Such a lovely thing to bite…" The apple somehow disappeared and she wrapped her free arm around me and squeezed my ass. "Now when you're finished chewing, do me a favor and leave your tank top and shorts downstairs. Removing them will take time away from my oh-so-delicious plans for you. By the way," she paused to suck the stickiness from her fingers, releasing them with a pop, "I haven't forgotten your little stunt last Saturday. Your ass will very much be mine tonight. You should know better than to tease me, Quinn. But don't worry, you'll learn your lesson by the end of the night."

And with that she pecked my cheek and bounded her way up the stairs, leaving me with a wet mess in more than one place and a pain in my ass.

After finishing my bite ( I didn't even like apples.), I removed my clothes, folded them, and placed them on my bag at the foot of the stairs. Normally, I would have ripped them off, but truth be told, this side of Rachel made me a certain kind of anxious, like being next in line for a fucking terrifying rollercoaster. You were scared as hell when you were next, but the ride was completely worth it. I mustered as much self-confidence and composure as one might be able to muster while walking up their wildly and slightly neurotic (but in a good way) girlfriend's staircase, clad only in my bra and underwear, not to mention being soaked through.

As I reached the door with the gold star, I took a deep breath before turning the knob. I moved forward and to my surprise, Rachel had on a tank top and baggy sweats. She was lying on her stomach, stretched across her bed, and Funny Girl was beginning its opening credits. Huh? What the hell was this? Before I could dwell on my confusion, I was shaken from my thoughts when Rachel called out to me.

"Quinn," she whined, "Hurry, you don't want to miss this! Come here, silly." She patted the place next to her on top of the comforter. Not wanting to step out of line because the Rachel I was dealing with was clearly crazy, I made my way to the bed and laid down cautiously next to her. She reached to the floor and picked up a bowl of vegan popcorn and trained her eyes on the screen. As Barbra began her epic journey, all I could think was, 'Seriously? What the fuck is going on?'

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately for my ass, my questions were answered not too long after that. Barbra's "Don't Rain on My Parade" scene was coming up, and I would deny this if ever confronted, it was actually my favorite part of the whole movie. The way Rachel sang it on the fly at Sectionals our sophomore year made my skin tingle and ignite. The rest, as they say, is history. Currently, however, I had substantially calmed down about the whole situation in which I found myself. That was mistake number one.

Just when Barbra was to start singing, Rachel paused the movie. My heart immediately beat faster and harder as I remembered the bet, 'Each night of which will include you performing a personal interpretation of one of three very special musical selections…' Shit, shit, shit. She was going to make me sing this song and parade around in my bra and underwear. I just knew it, or did I?

She cuddled next to my shoulder and tapped it gently with her index finger.

"Mh—Yes, Rachel," I caught myself before I mumbled a sound instead of words as she had corrected me before. What can I say? Fabrays are quick studies.

She kissed my shoulder and brushed it gently with her tongue before whispering against my skin, "It's time to pay up, Quinnie."

A visible shudder tore through my body and I gulped loudly. Turning my head slowly, hoping to get a visual angle on my predator without making any sudden movements that could trigger her attack, I found her smiling sweetly at me. The moment was broken when she slid herself back off the bed, dimmed the lights and curled her finger in a come-hither manner. She still held that sweet smile that made my knees shake like Jell-o Jigglers. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all… Oh, how wrong I was.

I moved to her quickly, doing everything in my power to appease the beast she clearly housed in her loins. As I stood before her, she tenderly removed my bra, wrapping her arms around me and gently squeezing before pulling away. Next Rachel slipped her middle fingers between the lace of my waistband and my hips, using them to slide the offending garment down to my ankles. She stood up, offered her hand chivalrously and aided me in stepping out of them. I couldn't help but feel like a prized possession she was so carefully trying to preserve. Something didn't add up, and I was right. This was the calm before the storm.

A/N #5: Okay, show of reviews… who hates me? (No worries Part Two is hot off the press…)