“And then?” His voice sounded pretty choked up, too.
“I…don’t know. Not yet.”
“I’m always going to be Landry’s slave. He might overrule this.”
“I don’t care. He won’t overrule me.”
“Technically, you’d have to be Landry’s slave, too. Unless he says otherwise.”
That was something she couldn’t do. In his slave mode, Cris showed a level of dedication and devotion she’d once thought she had given.
His service to Landry paled in comparison to what hers had been to Cris in their days together.
“Then just for while he’s gone, until we can talk to him. Please?” She had to lick her lips to wet them, even with the warm spray from the shower steaming up the place. “Please, Master.”
He sucked in a sharp breath before pulling her up to his cock and sliding it between her lips.
Both of them moaned, Tilly’s hands curling around the backs of his thighs as she held on.
This would be no blowjob. This would be him fucking her mouth in a way he normally did not do, unless Landry ordered him to do it for his amusement.
A way he used to do.
“Redbird,” he whispered. “My sweet, beautiful Redbird. I’ve missed you so much, baby.”
She closed her eyes, not wanting him to see her tears. Knowing he might mistake them for pain when, in fact, they were tears of happiness.
Joy.
Feeling like that open circuit in her soul was once more closed and complete.
* * * *
Cris didn’t know what to think, what to say. Rather than risk fucking things up, he opted to go with it, to let her guide him through what she wanted. Later, when he could talk with Landry, he’d find out if he’d crossed his Master’s line or not.
He suspected not, because that kinky bastard he loved so much wanted nothing more than to see Tilly happy.
And if finally being able to give herself to Cris again as his slave made her happy, Landry would likely order it done.
His fingers tightened on her scalp as he slowly fucked her sweet mouth, the past and present melding and blending, his soul complete once more. Yes, it’d killed a part of him to let her go the first time.
It had tortured him to see the results of her pain.
Now, she’d regained most of the weight she’d lost after his departure and she no longer looked like a grotesque, hollow, shrunken skeleton. Her hair had also grown out, nearly its former length, and she’d quit coloring it the harsh red she’d used.
The deep lines around her eyes, the hollows, had disappeared.
She was once more, in appearance, at least, his beautiful Redbird.
As if not a day had passed between them, not a minute’s absence.
“Take it for me, baby,” he whispered, the old words coming naturally, easily.
Freely.
Words he didn’t feel right saying in front of Landry. Not when Landry owned him. Not that he thought Landry would be jealous, because he wouldn’t. But because Cris didn’t feel right staking an ownership claim on the woman his Master was married to, no matter how much he also loved her.
He thought about pulling out, but knew the way he felt this morning she’d quickly get him up a second time. So when he went deeper, harder, faster, she was ready for him. His balls drew up tight against his body and she swallowed him whole, softly moaning as his cum shot down her waiting and eager throat.
Pressing her face against his body, he didn’t pull his cock from her mouth. It softened, not quite all the way.
She noticed.
Before long, her tongue and mouth were once again sucking on it, licking it, trying to get him hard again.
“Such a good girl,” he said, hoping she couldn’t feel the way his body trembled. “My good girl.”
She moaned.
He knew that moan. The happy, contented one.
The one he often heard in his sleep, in his memories.
The moan that could still instantly harden his cock—even if he’d just come—like it was now.
He pulled her to her feet and turned her, back against the wall, lifting her, impaling her on his cock. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as his fingers dug into her ass and he fucked her like he owned her.
Like he still owned her.
Hoping he wasn’t about to fuck up whatever this was, he switched to French, to the old triggers. “Come for me, baby. Give it to me.”
He winced as her nails dug into his shoulders, the good kind of pain as she cried out and he swallowed them with his mouth pressed against hers.
This felt so good, so right. So familiar, and yet it’d been so damn long since they’d been just them, Owner and owned, Master and slave.
His and his alone.
He talked her through two more orgasms before finally letting go and coming a second time himself, his cock deeply buried inside her pussy.
For a long, nervous moment, neither of them moved. Cris didn’t dare breathe, afraid maybe he’d crossed a line and had undone the years of work Landry had created to bridge that gap between Cris and Tilly.
Then she nuzzled the base of his throat, nipping him there. “Thank You, Sir,” she whispered.
He felt like crying. The good kind of tears.
Instead, he closed his eyes and rested his chin on the top of her head. “You’re very welcome, my dear, sweet Redbird. My good girl.”
She shivered.
* * * *
Cris called in to the office that morning and told them he was working from home. If they needed him, they could call or e-mail him. It wasn’t uncommon for him or Landry to not go in if there weren’t any meetings on the calendar.
They cooked breakfast together, equals, Tilly still not quite sure what had come over her, and yet not wanting to slide back into bitch mode, either.
Not that she’d been truly bitchy to Cris in a long, long time, but she made the distinction in her own mind. Bitch mode, or pet mode.
She was definitely more on the pet end of the scale right now and not entirely sure how she felt about it.
After breakfast, they stood in the kitchen to talk. Landry would be calling any minute after his arrival in LA.
This wasn’t something Tilly wanted to toss at Landry while he was out of town. It was something she wanted to sit down and discuss in person, all three of them.
And it didn’t change a thing about how she felt for Landry, either.
Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she’d ever return to a place of trust where she would be able to give herself to Cris.
Never.
“I don’t know,” she said, “if I can do this outside of the bedroom yet. Or, if ever. I’m not even sure I can do it in front of him.”
She knew she didn’t need to clarify who she was referring to.
“I understand,” he said.
“Good. Could you explain it to me?” She turned and leaned against the counter.
It took him a couple of moments to compose his thoughts. “Because you’re now entrenched in a kind of dynamic with Lan,” he said. “The way I’m entrenched in a dynamic with him. Even for all the years I was with you, it took me no time at all to step back into slave mode with him. But as much as I’ve missed being your Master, it feels weird trying to step into that with him right there with me. Being with you in bed is one thing. Talking to you, treating you as my slave is another.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Exactly.” She studied her fingernails for a moment. “I kind of feel like I just went from emotional security to limbo again.”
“Til, I’m sor—”
She waved down his objection. “I didn’t mean like that. Or because of what we did. In some ways, I can understand John and Abbey a little better now. How they can switch. I wish I could develop that. The way you can switch between modes.”
He gave her that handsome smirk she’d never forgotten in their time apart. “You are a switch.”
“It’s different for them, though. It’s like they can move back and forth between the modes at will. I…can’t. And I don’t want Landry thinking I’m sick of him and wanting you to the exclusion of him, because that’s not true, either.”
Cris didn’t interrupt her. She drummed her fingers on the counter, her short nails softly clicking against the countertop. Then, “I want it all,” she softly said. “Like they have.”
He pulled her close. “Then all you have to do is figure out how to approach it. I know Lan will be happy with it. He’ll probably get a thrill from watching me step back into that role with you.”
“And see, that’s part of the problem. I don’t know if I’ll be happy with him watching us do it. That was…that was us. Ours.”
“Lan and I have stuff that’s ours that you’ve seen.”
“And that’s different. You guys were together first.”
He frowned. “You don’t doubt how either of us feels about you, do you? Because we both love you.”
“I know. I love both of you, too.” She poked him in the chest again. “Even you, after what happened.” She stared at her cell phone. “I even like you again.”
He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her. “We don’t have to settle this now, or even before he gets back. We don’t have to settle it this week or this month or this year. We can just be and see what happens.”
“I don’t like limbo,” she said. “I hate living in it.”
“But you’re not in limbo.” He turned her to face him. “You’re married to Landry—”
“But I’m owned by you.”
He sadly smiled. “Technically not. That first day, when he dropped me off here, you officially withdrew your submission, if you remember.”
Her fingers sought the fluorite pendant. “But you gave it back to me when I asked for it.”
“I gave you back your pendant. I didn’t attach any strings or roles to it.”
Who was she kidding? It had never stopped being her day collar. And when he’d returned it to her, putting it on her that day the way she’d asked him to, she’d felt another silent piece settle into place.
She hadn’t taken it off since.
“Do you want it to be your day collar again?” he asked.
“Is that something you have to ask him to do?”
“That wasn’t my question, sweetheart.”
She stared up into his brown gaze, knowing she wouldn’t get anywhere with him until she answered his question.
She nodded.
His voice sounded barely louder than a whisper, yet nearly a scream in the otherwise silent house. “You have to say it.”
After taking a shaky breath, she said, “I want it to be my day collar again. For you.”
“As your Top, Dominant, Owner, or Master?”
“Yes.”
He smiled. “All the time, or just part of the time?”
“I don’t think you ever stopped being any of those. Not really. Not deep down inside. My heart could never turn it off. It just did its level best to try to distract me and make me forget you.”
“I think when Lan gets home, the three of us need to sit down and talk. As equals.”
She nodded.
For a long moment he stared down into her eyes. Then he gently wrapped her damp hair around his hand and guided her down to her knees, where she rested her forehead against his legs, her eyes falling closed.
Content.
Then she wrapped her arms around his legs, eyes still closed, and tried not to cry.
So many countless times when they’d been together, she’d greeted him like this, whether in the morning or after he came home from work or whatever.
She had missed this.
Desperately.
He didn’t make her move, and she was in no hurry to get up either. With one hand, he kept a grip on her hair. With the other, he slowly stroked the top of her head. “My sweet, beautiful Redbird,” he whispered.
On the counter, her cell phone vibrated, rattling against the countertop as it rang.
She didn’t move as his free hand left her hair.
Then, his voice. “Hey, Lan…Yes, she’s right here.” He pressed the phone against her ear, but she wouldn’t open her eyes, wouldn’t take it.
“Hello, love,” his voice purred from the phone.
“Hey, yourself. How was the flight?”
He hesitated. “Are you all right?”
Dammit. The man was preternaturally sensitive to her moods sometimes. Maybe even more so than Cris. “I’m fine. I miss you. Little jealous Cris got shower sex with you this morning.”
“Ah. Well, feel free to use him in place of me, love. You know that. I’ll make it up to you upon my return.”
“Done, and you’d better believe it. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“Here’s Cris.” She still didn’t open her eyes, even as Cris started talking to Landry again.
“No, not going in this morning. She needed a little TLC time of her own…I think so…No worries. Everything’s fine.”
Her breath quickened as he tightened his grip in her hair and lightly tugged, urging her up to her knees, her mouth to his cock.
His shaft was already inflating and she immediately sucked him down to the root, playing with his balls as she did.
“Yes,” he said. “She’s giving me a damn good blowjob right now, as a matter of fact…Well, sorry, but you got to shoot your load down my throat this morning and left me horny and hanging…Don’t worry. We’ll still have plenty of energy for you when you get home in a few days…Thanks, I appreciate that. Love you, too.”
He must have ended the call, because she heard him set the phone down on the counter again and his other hand returned to her head.
“Okay, Redbird,” he hoarsely said. “Guess what? He told me to make sure to fuck you silly in any position possible until he gets back, and I plan to do exactly that. And that when he gets home, he wants to watch me fucking my sweet little slave’s ass over the spanking bench.”
She moaned at that mental image.
“Oh, yes,” Cris said. “Maybe you don’t want to be my slave full-time, but I’m damn sure going to remind you how much I love being your Master during the times you let me.” He slid deep into her throat, holding still, making her get used to it, taking it. “He said he wants to see Cristo the Master who could tame his feisty Cardinal.”
He pulled his hard cock out of her mouth and forced her to look up at him.
In his eyes, in his expression, he was all Cristo, all Master.
No hint of Landry’s slave to be seen.
He leaned in, grinning. “I think someone’s gone way too long without a morning spanking, haven’t they?”
Her throat went dry, but she couldn’t have stopped herself from saying the words even if she’d wanted to.
She swallowed and heard the dry click in her throat. “Yes, Sir. Way too long.”
Sir and pet
Some collarings are full of celebration and light, a crowd of well-wishers to congratulate the partners. As important and meaningful as any wedding or handfasting to those participating in them.
Then there are other collarings…
* * * *
A bright October moon and a dark night, in a nearly-empty field. The party had broken up yet they still stood outside, talking by their cars. The house behind them lay dark, everyone else having left already.
She didn’t want to go home.
He didn’t want to let her go.
Life and work and schedules and distance frequently interfered with the part of their lives they wished they could immerse themselves in all the time. They were all the prices they paid to be able to enjoy this little bit of freedom. Her husband was out of town for a week, and she wasn’t looking forward to returning to an empty house. His wife awaited him at home, likely asleep already.
Both their spouses knew and consented to these snippets of time together. They wouldn’t have hap
pened otherwise.
Around her neck, the collar she had a key to, the stainless steel chain dog collar. He’d snipped the round ends off and put a small padlock on it, along with her tag. A pawprint, with both her husband’s name, his name, and her slave registration number.
The same tag in a different color that he wore on his own collar. He and her husband had playfully and privately co-collared her a few months earlier, more for play than true ownership, when they’d taken the journey from her topping one or both of them into her submission, usually to him, not to her husband.
A slippery slope, it turned out, that worked quite well. They’d been playing nearly a year with her topping him, and a few months switching, with her submitting to him.
A perfect match made in the bowels of some amusement park fun house from hell, a yin and yang of sadism and masochism springing from different sources with the same beautifully vicious result—when the beatings were over, fun was had by all.
She had the key and could remove it when she needed to, although the times she wanted to remove it were few and far between.
She tried to be brave, not to break down as the time drew closer for them to say good night and go their separate ways. An empty house always reminded her of some painful future time where it might not be merely a week and a plane flight separating her from her husband.
And he knew that. Maybe more than anyone else, since she confessed things to him, fears, that she never felt she could tell anyone else. The safety not just of submission, but trust.
Friendship.
Love.
He held her, hugging her, then had a thought. “Hold on, pet.”
He walked over to his car, retrieved something, and returned to her.
“Would you feel better if I swap out your lock tonight and put a different one on? One only I have the key to?”
She nodded hard, barely able to keep her tears at bay. She had been trying so hard not to cry, wanting to wait until she was alone in the car and on the way home to have her breakdown.
He turned her to face away from him. “Stand still, pet.” She felt him reach up, unlock the padlock, and replace it.