His Little Bird

Hers

Ethan's POV

I ignore the prying gaze as I tuck Birdie into bed. I take my time, postponing the conversation with her father.

I know the plan was for me to drop her off and leave, but I can't leave her, not when she's out of subspace for the first time.

I've never had a sub slip so quickly or deeply, I've never had one crash so hard though too.

My Little Bird is a true masochist, that's for sure. She slipped so quickly, I hadn't had the time to even realize it until she was already there.

My first attempt to get her out of it had been disastrous, driving her into hysteria. She knows about subspace and sub drop from school, but it takes a minute for sub's to realize what is happening to them.

I kept trying to talk her through it at first, letting her know what she was going to experience when her body stopped producing the epinephrines for subspace. She didn't hear a single thing though, so out of it I couldn't help her.

She liked being held, but she preferred to be held down when coming out of subspace—that much I gathered.

The chocolate helped too, stimulating a small amount of all the epinephrines that her body was flushing.

I don't know how much of this she'll feel or understand, but I know she needs me here.

"She's out cold."

I nod, pulling away from Birdie's bedside to look at her father.

"She dropped pretty hard... twice." I don't like to admit it. I've brought subs in and out of subspace hundreds of times. This was different though. I don't know why is was so different. Perhaps it was because she's never done it before, but it was like watching a train wreck.

It was too late to stop and there was little I could do to help. She didn't respond much to me, she didn't really pay attention to my words and she only responded to me when I was rough because she wanted me to bring her back to subspace.

It's not uncommon for a sub to resist or fight their return from subspace, but she fought hard against it even though it wasn't something she could control.

"Why didn't you stop?" Mr. Astor's question is a loaded one.

"I did when I realized where she was, but she crashed hard and I thought I could ease her out of it if I didn't let her go the whole way..." It made sense at the time and it somewhat worked.

I didn't let her get as high as she had the first time, but I kept her in subspace until I could get her chocolate and all wrapped up and held.

Neither of us say anything. I know he doesn't want me here, but we both know I have to stay. He may be a more experienced dominant, but I put Birdie in subspace. I'm the one she needs the aftercare and assurance from.

"...She's going to be in severe pain tomorrow." I remain silent, not knowing how to respond. I dressed her in her robe, but I guess it must had ridden up, so he could see the stripes covering her backside.

"It will be bruised for a while, but the skin isn't broken. As long as she doesn't sit, she will be okay..." Me and Mr. Astor stare at one another for a minute.

His eyes finally drop down to his daughter. Mr. Astor's expression softens as he watches her sleep. Movement in the doorway behind him catches my eye.

Ellie timidly hovers in the doorway behind her master. "She's alright, L. She's just tired," Mr. Astor assures his wife, not even having to look behind him to know she's there.