His Little Bird

A Wish

Ethan's POV:

I hum happily, using a utility knife to shed the twig of its bark.

Mark sets down his paper eyeing me in concern.

"I tried not to ask," Mark informs me with a sigh, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face.

"I figured if I went to the store and asked where I could find a cane some people may be concerned when I specified that it wasn't the kind for walking. I'm making a birch. Have you ever seen one before?"

It would surprise me if he hadn't, but then again the Republic doesn't seem to have any appreciation for domestic discipline or couples like me and Birdie who like to practice power exchange.

"Birch... like old fashion birch?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna dip the top in wax a few times, make sure she won't get cut. I don't usually use a birch, it's been a long time since I've made one..."

"No, I've never seen one before... You're going to use that on her, on Birdie?"

"Well, I'd never use it on your submissive," I chuckle, confused what his hesitancy is about. "I'd make you one if you like, but you have to be careful with this sort of thing even if it's just for play."

Mark disregards my joke, pretending like he didn't hear it. "I assume she's being punished then..."

"No need to look so nervous about it. She's perfectly alright and it's not nearly as nerve wracking for her as it is for you. It's really a maintenance discipline anyways."

"Maintenance discipline?" I hum, looking over my work.

"It's hard to explain, but its purpose is to reestablish roles and such with one another. It's a form of bonding really. If she takes well to it, then we will do it regularly."

"Responds well as in..."

"If she likes it, if it helps her destress, get into a good headspace. Sometimes she needs a good cry, needs to lose herself for a bit."

"I know consent isn't all that straight forward, like no doesn't really mean no and stuff like that, but what about tears and stuff?"

"Tears?" I hate those pesky tears of hers, but I don't know what that has to do with her consent.

"Yes... she was crying when you guys came back today from... wherever. But tears are okay in your culture, they don't mean she is hurt or sad?"

I see where the misconception is now.

"...Me and Birdie went for a walk... at the park."

"The park?" Mark questions, not seeming to connect which park I am referring to.

"Yes, like the park down the street..."

"Wh...Why would you take her there? That was where—"

"—She was taken," I finish. "I am aware and so is she... Birdie wanted closure and she got it, but that doesn't take the stress and pain away immediately."

"So she wasn't crying because you were going to birch her or anything?"

I smile and shake my head, always forgetting how the little things about her like her love for pain is unbeknownced still to her parents.

"No, Mark. Birdie has an... affinity for pain just like I have an affinity for delivering it. She is going to have jitters tonight, she knows it is going to be intense and it is going to hurt of course, but she isn't afraid or anything."

"You're sure?" Mark does not usually act like the overly concerned father, I know he loves Birdie, I see the way he looks at her, it is nice to see him like this even though he is questioning me.