Page 13 of Redbird

The difference between a tremor of anticipation and a tremor of impending orgasm.

The white of her knuckles when she feels pain versus pleasure.

There are so many shades to my redbird. And they all spill out, bringing life to my world in and out of our bedroom.

She moans and I spank her again, this time harder. Her lungs heave, but she keeps still. She’s been trained for this and she knows my expectations.

I feel a ripple of resistance and I spank her again, hard enough to send vibrations deep into her core. Then twice more, until she whimpers. The resistance breaks down and she eases into me, soft body going softer still.

I love this moment.

She shudders and lets out a little sob. Her tears are silent, but I feel them fall on my arm and thigh. She can safeword me if she wants, but she won’t. The euphoric high she gets from crying in the safety of my arms is too great.

Gently, I slide my other arm under her body, down between her breasts. Easing it between our bodies until I find her clit. Her hips jump at the contact. I know my fingers are rough, but she’s wet and she can take it.

“Moan for me, redbird,” I urge.

She whimpers, her breaths quick and close. My hand comes down on her ass, right where it meets her thigh. Right where she’s so sensitive.

I glance down. Her bare feet are braced on the floor.

Then one lifts, toes curling.

She’s going to come.

Quick as a flash, I stop everything and she wails in protest, devastated. I flip her in my arms so she’s on her knees in my lap and brush her hair back. Her breasts heave, her nipples hard and flushed.

“What did I do wrong?” she gasps.

I shake my head. “Nothing. You’re perfect. But you have to wait until I let you finish. And you know that.”

She bites her lip. I take her chin in my fingers and lift her face up.

“You know that, don’t you, redbird?”

She nods, knowing better than to protest. I move my hand from her face to her throat and kiss her mouth, tasting the salt of her tears. Her hips grind, mindlessly. With my mouth on hers, I reach over to the table at my side and flip the lid of the box we keep there. She tenses as I take out a little bottle and rub lube over her asshole.

A moan works its way up. I reach back into the box.

I feel the smooth, cool metal of the plug. My hand slides from her throat and down to her waist to keep her still. My other hand takes the little plug and runs it from her clit to her asshole. Gathering her silky wetness.

She breaks from my mouth, eyes glazed and breasts heaving. I press the metal tip against her flesh and she moans, her head falling back. The first time we did this, she clenched. But now she stays relaxed and her body takes it as I slip the cool metal into her ass. Fitting it in place.

She twists. Lips parting, hair falling over her breasts.

“Good fucking girl,” I pant.

She pushes her face into my chest. Shuddering.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, sir.” Her voice is muffled.

I lift her in my arms and spill her out onto the bed. On her knees, facing the headboard. Her brilliant hair tumbles down her back. Her round ass is flushed pink, her thighs are marked with little stripes from the crop.

I start unbuttoning my shirt. We’re so close to breaking. I need the sweet rush of her release, to taste her tears on her mouth.

There’s nothing like fucking her when her walls are down.

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