Part III: Flying

---

Rylan's text was simple: “Would you be interested in playing tonight?”

Finally, Maddies thought.

She stared at the letters, reminded of the swing that her dad had built for her the summer she was eight. She had courted the sky every day, pumping her legs until the chain bucked at the top of the arc and she launched herself into space. The whirling swoop in her belly was how she imagined the birds the first time they took to the sky. 

This is flying, she thought.

"Thrilled," she texted back, hands trembling. "Are you kidding? Yes. Green. What have you got in mind?"

Rylan's reply made her flush, arousal flaring at her core. "I was thinking we start out with something simple. Would you be comfortable being naked for the entire night?"

"Yes. Sim. Si. Da. Oui. Ja. Anything else?" Maddie answered. She danced in her chair. 

The next text from Rylan came within seconds. "Kneeling (you). I want to hand feed you and worship you. Edge you until you're weeping. Do you have anything you'd like to try?"

Lightness flooded Maddie's body. "There's one thing. Are you in a space today where I can call you daddy?" She typed out the words, deleted them, typed them again, and hit send, holding her breath.

Their response was immediate. "Yes, I am. Is there anything you want to be called?" 

Maddie's nerves spun like a dust devil's tail. "Maddie works, or you could use 'baby girl.' Only if you want to. I know it doesn't scream 'power,' and some folks think it's gross. No worries if you're not into it."

Rylan replied within seconds again. "Done. I'll tell you if something makes me uncomfortable. Also, we need to work on your definition of 'powerful' because you are. I'll remind you as often as you like. See you at 6:30."

Maddie checked the clock, her thoughts picking up speed. How is it only four o'clock? I'm going to die from anticipation. Shrivel up and expire.

The text alert went off once again, "I'm looking forward to wrecking you tonight. What's your color?"

Maddie quivered, typing back, "Green. Lush-fucking-green."

---

Rylan wasn't waiting when she stepped off the elevator. An envelope with the words ‘Open Me’ in cursive script was taped to their door. Maddie plucked it off, smiling as she pulled out a thick piece of stationary. The writing was slanted and flowing: 

Baby Girl, 

I'm so glad you're here. Come in, go straight to my bedroom, and get undressed for me. When you're ready, come out and kneel on the cushion in front of the couch. Please, and thank you. 

- Daddy

Maddie was ecstatic and nervous. Waiting had built this into a monumental moment in their relationship. She didn't want to demolish it by being her messy self. 

You won’t, she thought, the voice in her head sounding like a combination of Jo and Rylan.  

---

The scent of baked bread and basil greeted her when she opened the door. A vase on the dining table was overflowing with stalks of ballet-pink snapdragons and cornflowers as blue as a cloudless sky. Sprays of babies' breath were interspersed with the blooms. The white pinpricks reminded Maddie of stars peeking out from darkening blue in the evening.

She beamed, touching the delicate petal of a snapdragon.

Rylan's bedroom was simple and uncluttered. A large bed piled high with soft sheets and pillows took up most of the floor space. The tonal greys and pops of lime green brightened the room, transforming the bed from a hulking piece of furniture to an airy oasis.

Undressing was like breaking gravity’s hold on her. She became lighter in mind and body as her clothing fell away. The carpet was soft beneath her feet, and she scrunched her toes. She wanted to hoard every moment of this night in her memory. Maddie had expected Rylan to be in the living room when she returned, but it was empty. 

They want their first glimpse of me to be kneeling, she mused, grateful for the care her lover had given to creating a scene designed for her.

The desire to make the evening perfect flooded her mind with images of her doing the opposite. She imagined tripping over her own feet or babbling when she should be the model of serene subservience. Blood rose to her cheeks, and her anxiety returned.

 "Well, shit," she muttered. She focused on her bare knees and chanted to herself, "Don't do something stupid. Don't do something stupid. Don't do something stupid." 

A hand threaded through her hair, and she shrieked, pitching sideways. Rylan jumped backward, their hands raised, palms splayed open. Their lips turned down in a moue of concern.

"Yellow," they said, dropping into a crouch beside her. "I'm sorry I scared you. What do you need, Maddie?"

Embarrassed by her outburst, she grimaced. "I was… I got caught up… Fuck. Have I ruined it? The scene is ruined, isn't it? I'll get dressed."

Rylan interrupted, their voice soothing, "You didn't ruin anything. If you want to put your clothes on, that's cool, but you don't have to. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I wanted to make sure I didn't do anything dumb, like freaking out and screaming. I didn't hear you come in. You're awful stealthy."

"Good to know all my spy training paid off.” Rylan sat on the floor beside her. 

Bubbling happiness rose as Maddie's shock receded and she gave in, lying beside them on the floor and laughing.

They stared down at her. "You'll be great," they said, leaning over and sliding their lips over Maddie's, "whatever we decide to do." 

"You're biased," she whispered, keeping still and letting them control the kiss, fucking their tongue into her mouth. The soft scratch of wool and crisp cotton was electrifying against her bare skin.

Both were out of breath when they parted. "Do you still want to play tonight?" they rasped.

It was Maddie's first chance that evening to study Rylan. They were wearing a simple black button-down, sleeves rolled to their elbows. Their pewter tie was tucked into a dapper three-button waistcoat. Skinny jeans cuffed at the ankle revealed a pair of lace-up biker boots, complete with a silver-buckled harness.

Their composed stance, arms loose at their sides, radiated confidence and undisguised want.

She repositioned the pillow and knelt. "I do."

The corners of their mouth ticked up as they ran their tongue over their bottom lip. "Ready to get started?"

It took Maddie a moment to find her voice. "Yes."

Rylan wound her hair around their hand, holding her with enough force to tilt her head back. They looked into her eyes, their voice stern. "Forget something?"

Maddie's face flushed, swooning from the strict attention. "Yes, I want to play tonight, daddy." 

"Better." They loosened their grip and scratched at her scalp. Maddie sat up a little straighter and pushed into their hand like a cat. "Give me your safeword and your colors," Rylan commanded.

"Snake or red to stop, yellow to slow down and discuss, and green to keep going."

"Snake?" Rylan asked, with a trace of amusement.

"Anything that moves around without legs has ulterior motives."

"What about fish?"

"Swimming is a different, and non-creepy, means of propulsion."

"Sage wisdom. I'm using 'snake,' as a safeword, to keep things simple."

"That works," Maddie said.

"Rules for tonight: Use. Your. Words. If something isn't working for you or makes you uncomfortable, tell me. When I ask a question, I want an answer, and when I give you an order, I expect you to do it unless you use your safeword or a color. You can talk and make as much noise as you want. Understand?"

"Yes, daddy.” Her throat was dry, her sex throbbing.

"We're going to eat first. After dinner, I want you to show me how well you listen to directions.” Rylan tipped her chin up and ran their thumb over her lips. "Is the temperature comfortable?"

"I'm toasty and green."

"Thank you. Spread your legs for me.” Rylan slipped their foot between her knees. They tapped her inner-thighs with the toe of their boot until her legs were hip's width apart. "I'm going to get our dinner. Touch yourself while I'm busy, but no coming."

"I understand."

"You're going to be sweet for me, aren't you?"

"I am, daddy," she said. 

Slipping two fingers into her mouth, she sucked them for a moment before pulling them out and stirring circles over her clit.

"Perfect."

Maddie was brilliant. It took every ounce of will they had not to drop to their knees and lick and nip at her breasts. There was so much they wanted. There's no hurry, Rylan thought, shaking their shoulders and straightening their spine. 

They had contemplated this night for weeks, wanting to give Maddie what she wanted and be worthy of her submission. Glad they had prepared dinner ahead of time, they went to the kitchen to retrieve the delicacies they had chosen. 

Hand-feeding Maddie meant picking foods that were easy to handle. Crostini brushed with olive oil and sea salt, then toasted. Tomato slices topped with mozzarella and basil were succulent and bursting with flavor.

The savory fragrance of the herb lingered on Rylan's skin.

There were also Kalamata olives, artichoke hearts, and fresh figs. The food was paired with a sparkling pear cider, dry as Prosecco, but without the alcohol to ensure their heads stayed clear.

Balancing the tray, they grabbed a single champagne flute and returned to the living room.

Maddie was where they had left her, her shoulders shuddering. Her mouth swollen, lips a ripe red from being bitten, the lower captured by her top teeth.

"You're quite a sight," Rylan said, setting the tray and glass on the coffee table. Her hand stilled, and she rested it on her thigh. They put the tray down and tapped her on the nose. "Did I tell you to stop touching yourself?"

"No."

"Well, then you better get those fingers moving, right?"

She whined, slipping her hand over her sex.

"What's your color?" They sat on the couch, one arm draped along the top of the backrest.

Maddie grasped for the word she needed through the haze of arousal. It floated to the surface of her consciousness, rising on eddies of awareness until she was able to understand it, "Gre...Green."

Pressing their hand against the hardness the juncture of their thighs, their abdomen clenched. Their hips jutted up against their hand.

"Good girl. Are you hungry?"

"I am." She sounded as if her voice was coming from somewhere beyond her skin. It was like listening to herself whispering in another room.

"Is there anything here you don't like?"

"No."

Rylan sighed, relieved. "You can stop," they said, patting their knee. "Bring the food and come sit with me, please."

Maddie unfolded herself from the floor and sat on Rylan's lap, legs extended over the cushions, her back against the armrest. Settling the tray across her knees, she took a moment for herself, resting her head on their shoulder. She buried her face in the crook of their neck and inhaled the peppery amber scent of their skin. 

"You smell so good," she said.

"You do, too.” They kissed her cheek and offered her a bite of tomato and mozzarella.

Her mind quieted more with each mouthful. Maddie hadn't expected hand-feeding to have an immediate and undeniable impact on her. It was comforting and close, like the hush that follows a midwinter's snow. 

Silence intensified the sensations, brightening the snap of cracked pepper and the softness of Rylan's fingers as they brushed against her mouth.

Lust flowed beneath her skin like honey. They held up a piece of fig, the flesh glistening with crystalized sugar. Her tongue darted out, the fruit yielding like the folds of a woman's sex. It was syrupy and rich, with hints of berry that lingered on her lips and tongue. 

Rylan licked into her mouth to chase the flavor.

A satisfied growl rumbled in their chest when they pulled away. "Are you full?"

"I am," Maddie said, her cheeks flushed. She ached to move on to the next part of their evening, to hold herself out as a tribute, her body the most precious thing she had to give.

Rylan's fingers traced a path from behind Maddie's ear, down the side of her neck. They circled her nipple, and Maddie arched into their hand, plates on the tray clinking.

"Careful now," they said.

"Please -"

"What do you need?"

She gasped. "You. I need you," she said. 

Rylan thrust their hips against her ass, and she felt the hardness of their cock. She ground down on it, and the tray tipped, the empty plates rattling.

"You're a menace, woman," they said.

"But I'm your menace."

"Damn right."