Content: Discussion of service-oriented Dominance. Erotica. Power Exchange. Safe, Sane, and Consensual Play.
The discussion was incredible. Every week I’m wonderstruck by the depth and breadth of information folks are willing to share. Grateful doesn’t even begin to describe my feelings about our #fetchat followers.
Some folks were surprised to see service-oriented kinks discussed as a facet of a Dominant’s experience. I don’t know why that had me taking a step back. It makes sense that service is more readily associated with submissive behaviors. Now, full disclosure: I’m a switch. Seriously, everything about me is fluid. My experience with Dominance is all about service.
Service, in this context, is an outward demonstration of caring.
It’s an action that reminds a person how important they are and honors their place in my life. Service-oriented nurturing is one of the primary ways I express love and care for folks in my life. Let’s take cooking as an example. For me, there’s nothing so fulfilling as preparing someone’s favorite food for them. The act of creating something that gives a person I love such visceral pleasure is thrilling.
When I was writing the second part of Cygnet Springs, I decided to demonstrate this nurturing, service-oriented Dominance through Oliver. His Dominance is one of the ways he chooses to show his love for Jordan. It’s a service, in and of itself.
Be well, be wonderful, and above all, be you.
Cygnet Springs, Part II
Jordan woke from their nap. The sun was setting, painting the room in shadow. Puffs of humid breath tickled the nape of their neck. A sleepy sigh slipped from their lips, and their lover’s arms wound around their chest, drawing them back.
Legs tangling together, Jordan relished the stuttering drag of sleep-warmed skin as they moved against Oliver. His hand stroked their bare belly, teasing the sparse line of hair that stretched from their navel to the juncture of their thighs.
Desire quickened at their center.
Restless energy flowed beneath their skin, each touch amplifying the heat surging through them. Jordan pressed back against Oliver, loving the strength of his chest.
Time flowed around the lovers like a stream surging over an outcropping of rock. Hunger for pleasure replaced the sleepy stillness of early evening with each caress.
Oliver’s cock brushed along the cleft of their ass, an insistent hardness feeding their yearning to be filled. Throwing their head back against his shoulder, they nuzzled his neck, loving the sweet musk of woodsmoke and caramel. It was a scent that was uniquely his.
Home, Jordan thought. He smells like home.
Pointing their toes, they stretched, hips grinding back, so the slick head of Oliver’s prick brushed the furled rose of muscle between their cheeks.
“You’re my home, you know that, right?” Jordan said.
Oliver groaned. The pressure against his shaft was delicious. He craved the tight grip of their ass or the velvet squeeze of their cunt.
“I do,” he murmured against their cheek. Giving Jordan’s earlobe a sharp nip, his large palm cradling their pussy, “Is this okay?”
“Yes, please,” they said, guiding Oliver’s fingers between the folds of their cunt, rocking their hips.
He teased their clit for a moment before lifting his hand to their mouth. Jordan lapped at their own slick, savoring the tang and earthen scent that was uniquely theirs and theirs alone.
Oliver pulled his hand back, tapping their nose, “I want to come all over this pretty face. Will you let me?”
A guttural moan rumbled in their throat. Turning in Oliver’s arms, they rolled until they were face-to-face.
Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Oliver’s mouth hung open, a high flush painted his cheeks. Jordan lunged forward, gasping when he grasped a fistful of their hair, holding them back, just shy of his mouth.
“I asked you a question, kitten.”
Their eyelids closed, shutting out the visual noise. Delighting in the pull on their scalp, they relaxed into Oliver’s hands. He saw the slackening in their shoulders.
A flare of want, searing and primal, swept through him as Jordan’s body swayed forward like a field of wheat bent low by the wind.
Breath quickening, he slid his blunt fingernails down Jordan’s chest, stopping to tease each nipple to hardness.
Stripes of light pink rose on their skin, and they whimpered, a high, tight sound riding out on a huff of breath.
Tightening his grip on Jordan’s hair, he gave them a shake, enjoying how they moved with him, according to his demands. Another whine slipped from between their parted lips.
“Tell me what you want?” Oliver demanded.
“I want what you said.”
Oliver laughed, a predatory growl. Chills trickled down Jordan’s spine like drops of ice water while heat mounted in their clenching pussy.
“Aw, kitten, are you feeling shy? Tell me, what was it I said wanted?”
“You wanted to come on my face. I want that.”
“Then that’s what you’ll have, kitten. Now, hands up,” Oliver said, laying them flat on their back and guiding their hands to the rails of the wrought iron headboard. The rough texture scraping against their skin helped ground them in the now.
“Stay,” Oliver ordered as he climbed off the bed and turned on the bedside lamp.
Whining, Jordan blinked at the soft yellow light chasing the darkness back into the corners of the room. Outside, night descended. The tops of the trees, black as ink, brushed against the last vestiges of light in the sky. Oliver climbed between their legs, trailed his fingers along their thighs, and tickling the taught muscles of their abdomen. He dropped a kiss on their navel before taking a moment to study Jordan’s body.
Their lips were bitten to a berry red, and their chest heaved with excitement. Between their parted thighs, the lips of their cunt were flushed and spread to reveal their clenching hole. The tip of the pearl at the apex of their pussy was swollen pink, peeking out from its hood.
Oliver licked his thumb and swirled the nub of flesh, “What’s this, pet?”
Tears pricked at the corners of Jordan’s eyes. Oliver never faltered when he asked about their body or treated the fluidity of their gender as a burden.
“And what a perfect cock it is,” he said, bowing to lick a broad stripe from their hole to their cock, ending with a gentle suck.
“You are so fucking beautiful like this. Did you know that?”
“Well, you are. So, tell me.”
“You know the rules.” Oliver straddled their waist. The warm, tender skin of his thighs brushed against their hips. His cock was hard and curved toward his belly. Stroking himself from root to tip, he took a deep breath and continued.
“What are the rules for this trip?”
Rolling their eyes, they couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of their mouth. Oliver was careful, even when he exercised his dominance, “This week we play from the time we arrive until we have to begin packing to leave. Each day we take two hours to debrief and make adjustments. Aftercare is ongoing, as are physical and emotional check-ins.”
“And at any time, either one of us can say Red or Bunny to stop. Yellow to slow down and talk. Green to keep going.”
“That. Was. Perfect. Do you want to safeword or stoplight?”
Jordan chuckled, feeling their face and chest heat as they blushed, “No. I’m green.”
“Good. So. Tell me how beautiful you are.”
Jordan moaned. They had hoped the interlude would distract Oliver. Accepting themselves was a work-in-progress. He loved creating ways for Jordan to see themselves the way he saw them. He bent forward and dropped a tender kiss on Jordan’s lips.
“Do you trust me?” He asked.
“I do. You know, I do.”
“Then tell me.”
Their hands tightened around the bars on the headboard, muscles flexing as they struggled with the language other people took for granted.
A minute ticked by, then another, and it was clear Oliver was content to wait. He trailed his fingers up and down the shaft of his dick, teasing himself.
“I’m beautiful,” they whispered.
Oliver beamed at them before rewarding their cooperation by tugging first one nipple, then the other into his mouth. He sucked and licked until the tiny nubs of flesh were hardened and sensitive to the chilled air.
“Damn right, you are.”