She’s so warm. And silky, and succulent, and full enough to ache, and so warm -- Rose wouldn’t be shocked if she could feel her heartbeat.
Might have, too, if Pearl wasn’t doing so much twitching and jerking underfoot. So squirmy. So sweet. It’s not something they’ve tried yet, but sometimes instinct strikes, and when it does it never fails to reward Rose with a warm puddle of girl: garden-soft sounds at the shock of learning something so new about herself.
Moments like those?: Rose plucks off the shelf when alone. Good enough to make her toes curl.
“I have to wonder,” soft and sweet as cream and venom, “what goes through such a pretty head --” She rolls her heel a little harder, a little harsher, though Pearl’s pleased little noises sound different -- “-- when you decide to be such a bad girl --”
Then she sees the tears.
Her heart gums the bottom of her throat. Freezes.
Pearl’s cried a few times, before. Usually from coming too hard, or from sheer overload, but… but Rose doesn’t think that the case, this time. She didn’t safeword, but...
It’s important not to panic. Not to be too loud, or shocked -- that could upset her more. So Rose is gentle, pulling her foot away; she’s cautious, bending to read Pearl’s expression.
“Oh, sweetheart -- oh.” Rose’s voice is a whole different paradigm: careful, cupping, wrapping warm as cashmere. She hunkers down to Pearl’s level -- careful not to lose her balance -- and studies her face a moment. Reaches, too: lets fingertips graze over her cheek. “Am I playing too rough?”
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Might have, too, if Pearl wasn’t doing so much twitching and jerking underfoot. So squirmy. So sweet. It’s not something they’ve tried yet, but sometimes instinct strikes, and when it does it never fails to reward Rose with a warm puddle of girl: garden-soft sounds at the shock of learning something so new about herself.
Moments like those?: Rose plucks off the shelf when alone. Good enough to make her toes curl.
“I have to wonder,” soft and sweet as cream and venom, “what goes through such a pretty head --” She rolls her heel a little harder, a little harsher, though Pearl’s pleased little noises sound different -- “-- when you decide to be such a bad girl --”
Then she sees the tears.
Her heart gums the bottom of her throat. Freezes.
Pearl’s cried a few times, before. Usually from coming too hard, or from sheer overload, but… but Rose doesn’t think that the case, this time. She didn’t safeword, but...
It’s important not to panic. Not to be too loud, or shocked -- that could upset her more. So Rose is gentle, pulling her foot away; she’s cautious, bending to read Pearl’s expression.
“Oh, sweetheart -- oh.” Rose’s voice is a whole different paradigm: careful, cupping, wrapping warm as cashmere. She hunkers down to Pearl’s level -- careful not to lose her balance -- and studies her face a moment. Reaches, too: lets fingertips graze over her cheek. “Am I playing too rough?”