His Little Bird

Gentleman

Birdie's POV

"Is there a way that would make confrontation less uncomfortable for you—or not even confrontation, but when I need to get something off my chest?" I don't think he is being completely unreasonable about his expectations.

He wants us to have a united front amongst others and I can respect that and save my opinions for a later time.

He taps his fingers on the table, seeming deep in though. "Stephan and Lizzy have a ritual and I think we should try it..."

I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. "Alright..."

"If she ever needs to talk to him, they have a chair in their room that she goes and kneels next to. It keeps the dominant and submissive relationship intact while she's able to get things off her chest," Ethan explains vaguely.

"Okay... so we can pick a chair in the house and I'll kneel next to it when I want to talk..." Ethan nods, scooting his chair in closer, seeming very invested in our conversation.

"I'll pull you to rest against my leg and put your head on my thigh. I'll play with your hair while I listen—make sure to look over you." I blush deeply and he smiles and tilts his head slightly. "You're always so shy when I talk about things like this. I am glad I will be able to teach you how to submit when we have our day together."

I blush deeper as he chuckles in amusement at me. "I know how to submit," I protest softly.

He shakes his head at me, "Submit to your submissive desires and urges? You're blushing because you're embarrassed. You should embrace those desires, not shame them. Do you think I am embarrassed because of how much it will please me to see you kneel at my feet?"

My face flushed redder, proving his point. "You do not disappoint, Little Bird," Ethan teases me and I try to cover red cheeks with my hands. "Do you like to beg? Has anyone ever made you before?"

I shake my head at his question, hating the way my insides boil with need.

"Don't worry, Little Bird. I will make you beg. I will tie you up. I will make sure you feel owned," Ethan assures me. Any other dominant would be wearing a self assured smirk, but Ethan smiles softly at me.

His words aren't for play, or to make me feel small, they are a promise to fulfill every hidden—or not so hidden— desire I have.

I look away, changing the subject. "Should we order?"

Ethan chuckles and stands, helping me out of my chair. I expect him to pry perhaps, tease me about not answering him, but he doesn't no such thing.

We stand in line together, only a few people in front of us. Ethan has me stand in front of him and it helps me relax. He isn't just a gentleman, but he wanted to protect me and keep an eye over me.

His warm hands gently caress my waist, making me jump from the sudden contact. His chest rumbles as he chuckles and I look up to see his cool expression again.

He glances down at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His hands gently ease me to lean back against him.

I readily let him hold me to him, rocking us back and forth to our own rhythm as we wait. "What flavor?" Ethan suddenly asks. I blush, realizing he is going to order for me again.

I look around at the flavors, "Mint chip please, Sir," I reply politely.

For some reason, my insides curl at the title I use. I've called him Sir a million times, but I guess ordering ice cream is more arousing to my body than the other circumstances that I've addressed him with such honorifics.