The Firs Ch. 02

"Come here, my pet," she purrs. On hands and knees, I make my way across the hardwood floor of our little apartment. I love when she calls me 'pet.' Nothing makes me wetter, faster.

Tonight, Alana -- or at the present moment, Mistress Alana -- is pulling out all the stops. She sits on the big, black leather chair we refer to as 'the throne' in over-the-knee leather boots which give way to open fishnets and a pleated skirt that doesn't leave anything to the imagination, above which her corset, red with black lace, slopes generously from hip to waist to bust. She's holding my favorite flogger over her strong shoulder, flicking it back and forth in her hand. And the look she's giving me is making me melt, her blue eyes dark and sultry under heavy lashes.

This is exactly what I want and exactly what I've come to crave in our year-plus together. The truth is I've been hooked ever since she first tied me and in love since that balmy early December day at the tree farm: our first kiss, our first fuck. I still marvel at it all. How could a year pass so quickly?

Thoughts give way as I reach her. This is the best part, the sinking into subspace, where thinking ends and instinct takes over. I kneel before her. In yoga, they call this the puppy pose, my arms stretched out along the floor in front of me, my knees under me, and my ass high in the air. Over the past year, I've learned what she likes too.

"Permission to touch you, Mistress?" I ask, my voice low and deferential.

"You may start here," she states, extending her leather wrapped foot towards me.

I slide one hand around her heel and lean in, kissing the shining silver toe of the high-heeled black boot. I've also developed new tastes in the year we've been together, particularly a penchant for the smell of real leather and musky hemp. Earthy and natural, both have me panty-soaked in a moment.

I slide my hands up her strong leather-clad calve as I kiss her toes, her foot, her ankle. I slide forward until I'm perched between her legs, looking up through my lashes at her magnificent face, all strong jaw, sharp cheekbone, and piercing blue eyes. She smiles down on me as she slides down the seat, slipping her legs around me and her warm pussy towards me. I breathe in her intoxicating scent making my eyes roll back and my jaw go slack.

"Now, tell me what it is you want, my pet." Her voice is soft and languid. She knows the answer; she just likes to hear me beg for it, pant for it. I happily oblige.

"I want to taste you. I want to serve you. Please." I feel the sharp bloom of pain before I even realize my mistake as she cracks the flogger over my bare ass, leaving glorious tingling red welts. The sting is divine.

"Please, Mistress!" I correct. "Please, Mistress, let me taste you. I need you on my tongue." And I do, desperately.

She slides down a little farther. "That's better, my pet. Don't make me correct you again." We both know I will; I enjoy it too much. She drops her hands between her legs, parting her nether lips for me. That's the only instruction I'll get, and it's all I need. I immediately dip my lips to her damp skin, peppering kisses across her labia, lingering over her dewy clit. It's the most beautiful thing in the world as I take her in my mouth, my tongue making little strokes up and down over her pussy, tasting her delicious wetness.

She parts her lips a little further, encouraging me to run my tongue from entry to clit and back again. And again and again and again. I feel her breath quickening as her pussy gets wetter and wetter. I want it all, lapping up her liquids with undignified zeal. I gently suck her clit as I first enter her, first one finger, then two, then three. I know it won't take her long; she's taught me exactly what she likes.

The stroke of my fingers is slow, deliberate, the tips gently curling up to caress her g-spot as I circle her clit with my tongue, sucking harder, drawing it between my lips. She starts to moan, and it's only moments before I feel her body tense, liquid pouring over my chin as she tightens around my needy fingers.

I'm drinking her in and licking my lips and chin. She throws down her flogger and shoves me back, flat on my back on the floor. She covers me with her long body and takes my mouth with hers. I know she's enjoying the taste on my lips as much as I am. With her tongue playing hungrily over mine, her long, delicate, strong fingers enter me.

I'm soaking wet and she's wasting no time, taking me hard and fast, exactly what I need. She breaks from my lips only to take my nipple between hers, and I am undone. My orgasm is powerful and swift; my body is shaking before I can utter a sound.

She slides to my side, draping her leg over mine and lifts her fingers to her mouth, licking them gently before dipping them fully into her mouth and sliding them out between her closed lips seductively, moaning her delight.

"God, you're delicious," she utters in her silky cadence, before beginning to shimmy down my body. "How about another, my pet?" she asks. I ask myself how I got so lucky before she starts kissing down my belly and thoughts are no longer possible.

***

My hand slips into hers as we open the front door. It's a bright, balmy spring day, and I am impossibly happy. A year ago, I'd never even considered being with a woman, but with Alana now, it feels like nothing could rupture my joy. I know my parents would not approve, but our families are thousands of miles away, and we are blissfully alone today. Her blues eyes sparkle as she smiles at me, and I can't help but beam in return, causing us both to laugh in joy at our profound happiness. As the door slams behind us, our laughter stops dead along with my post-orgasmic mirth.

"Surprise!" My mother, father, sister, and grandmother are crossing the courtyard toward us, and I am frozen to the spot, terror ripping through me. I immediately drop Alana's hand as they walk toward us.

My mind is blank; all I can string together is, "What are y'all doing here?!"

My mother answers, "We just wanted to see you, and since it was your sister's spring break, we just decided to fly out and surprise you! We were just about to ring you, and out you pop! Lucky timing, huh?"

"Yeah...lucky," I say. I look over at Alana, who gives me a shrug and a tight smile.

"You look stunned, Soph," my sister says.

"Brigid, I couldn't be more surprised if I'd gotten a shovel to the face walking out that door."

My mother tsks and adds, "Sophie, you look so pale. Are you sick?"

"No, just...in shock, I guess." I force a smile, feeling Alana fidgeting next to me, her boots shuffling along the courtyard pavers.

"Are you going to introduce us, Sophie?" My mom asks. "Is this your roommate you speak so highly of?"

Alana, my girlfriend of over a year now -- the woman I love -- is standing next to me, arms crossed across her chest, eyes down at her feet. I've never seen her look so self-conscious before. Can I say the words to my family? Is now the moment? In the end, all I can get out is, "Yes. Alana, this is my family. Family, Alana." She meets their gaze and waves, a smile drawn over her lips that doesn't come near her eyes. To diffuse the awkwardness, I add simply, "We're going to get some dinner down the street. Care to join us?"

The next hours are tense while I continue to process the situation. We eat and chat away, but I can't bring myself to tell them who Alana really is to me, and worse, I can't bring myself to close the small space between the two of us. Finally, when I just can't take anymore, I excuse myself to the restroom. I stand in the small hall with my back against the wall and my hands over my face.

"Are you okay?" Alana is standing next to me, her hand reaching up to caress my shoulder.

"Not in the least," I answer. "I don't know what to do. I know I need to tell them; I want to tell them. But every time I muster up the courage, my heart starts jackhammering in my chest and I can't breathe. I don't know if I can do this."

"You don't have to right at this moment, but you will eventually." She pauses. "It's not a secret that can be kept."

"Fuck; I'm not ready for this. I can't do this. They'll hate me," I moan.

"Sophie, my love, they love you," she assures me in her soothing voice. "Surely, they just want you to be happy."

"Of course they do. Happy and straight." I slide away from Alana and into the restroom, locking the door behind me. The tears are already streaming down my cheeks as I lean on the door, listening to her boots clicking away.

When I open the door, my sister, all of 16, is standing in the hall. "I was worried about you, sis. Alana excused herself and left, eyes brimming, and you've holed yourself up in the restroom." She pauses before continuing, "Y'all are together, aren't you?"

"What?! No, of course not!" I say without thinking.

"Bullshit. Y'all were holding hands when you walked out of your building, and I saw how you looked at each other. I don't think the fam picked it up, but I did."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. I told them before we left to call ahead, but you know mom. Are you going to tell them?" she asks.

"I have to, don't I?" I respond.

"I don't know. I don't think they'll like it, but they do love us. It might just take some adjustment for them."

The tears are pricking behind my eyes again.

"It's ok, sis. I've got your back, whatever you do."

We hug and return to the table, but I can't seem to focus on the conversation.

"Are you sure you're not sick, little one?" my mother asks. My sister yawns loudly before I can respond.

"Mom, can we go back to the hotel now? I'm so jetlagged." My lovely sister. I smile at her, and she winks back.

"Of course, Brigid. Sophie, it's so good to see you. We'll pop by tomorrow morning and then we'll get breakfast."

We exchange pleasantries and leave the restaurant, turning our separate ways once we're out the door. I just hope Alana is home when I get there.

She's not. I send her a quick text before pouring a glass of wine and sitting in our sunroom. An hour passes, and then two, before I hear a key in the lock of our door. Alana

stumbles in, crashing into the hallway before making her way out to me.

She's obviously drunk, but before I can say anything, she's grabbed the collar of my shirt and poured herself into my lap, straddling me. She silences any remaining thoughts when she presses her lips to mine, hungry with lust and flavored with whiskey. I know instantly what comes next, finding myself relieved to avoid a difficult topic as I quickly succumb to her advances.

She presses her body into mine, forcing my head back, sliding her hand around my neck, lifting my jaw -- exactly what I want. Right now, I need her in this way, raw and demanding, and I give myself to the moment, to her. Life feels so simple and straightforward when she's grinding her hips into mine and tightening her grip around my throat. I feel my arousal growing, displacing the fear and insecurity that I thought might drown me only minutes before.

She dips her other hand between us and deftly unbuttons my jeans before plunging beneath the fabric straight to my pussy. Wetness flows at her touch and it's a matter of seconds before I'm soaking her fingers. When she begins stroking my already-engorged clit, I am undone, no longer a thinking individual, but a needy, desperate animal, all thought gone, only craving remaining.

My heart hammers and my pussy throbs when she whispers in my ear, "Come for me, pet." Her command touches my very center, and I do, violently, gushing over her fingers.

My legs are shaking as she withdraws her hand. "Stay, pet" is what she says as she climbs off of me and disappears into the apartment. My breath is ragged and my skin is burning as I look down at my soaked jeans.

Only a few moments pass before she returns. If I thought a quicky was the end of her intentions, I am swiftly disabused of the notion. She's holding rope, a flogger, a collar, and a gag. We don't use a gag often. She likes to hear me: my pleas, my thanks, my adoration, my moans of pleasure.

"Stand." She instructs me without preamble. I do, and she starts removing clothes from my body until I'm naked in front of the full-height windows of our cloudroom. I know she would stop with a single word from me, but at the moment, I'd rather feel than think.

"Hands," she demands. I stretch my hands out in front of me. She quickly wraps the rope around them, tying them together. She pulls me roughly across the room before extending my hands upward and clipping the rope to a carabiner we have hanging from the structural ironwork overhead. She tightens the rope, pulling me onto my toes.

She holds the collar up to my face. The smell of the leather makes my knees weak as I give in to the rope, sagging downwards.

"What do you want?" she asks me.

"I want you, Mistress," I answer. "I want to be yours." Her lips turn up at the corner, the closest to a smile I've seen since she's been home. She slides the collar around my neck, gently lifting my hair to buckle it.

"Thank you, Mistress." I open my mouth to speak again, but she cuts me off.

"No more words." She places the gag in my mouth and turns me around so I'm facing the windows. I can hear her behind me. My skin sizzles as goosebumps rise, waiting for her touch. And then I feel it, her breath on my neck, hot and wet. Her mouth is hovering within inches, running along my shoulder blades and down my back. Only when it reaches the base of my spine does she touch me, her fingers hovering over my hands, then up the length of my arms. Her breath slides over my ass as her hands graze down my sides, making me shiver. Her hands caress my hips as I feel her breath between my legs. She breathes in my scent; her touch traces the line between pubis and leg before following the inside of my thigh. Her hands flow around the back of my knees and up my thighs, and I find myself tumbling into subspace as she cups my ass.

And then her touch and her breath are gone. I can still hear her moving behind me, but I feel empty and alone. My skin and head are buzzing, an involuntary whimper escaping my throat.

When she touches me again, it's her boot toe prodding my legs further apart from behind. Then her hand is on my neck again, pressing forward while the other wraps around my hip, pulling. My back arches as my shoulders sag further into the rope, leaving my ass protruding. Her hand runs down my back, stopping just above the base of my spine. That's when I hear it, the swish of the flogger.

Delicious pain blooms across my ass; my small yelp is muffled by the gag. I don't have time to think before the leather strikes again. Her measured, punishing blows are coming fast now. I can only moan as the pain is transformed into pleasure. Instead of alternating from cheek to cheek, she's striking across the whole of my backside in a controlled frenzy, and I can feel my moisture dripping down my legs.

She reaches around me, her hand diving between my thighs and plunging between my hot folds. She pinches my throbbing clit between her fingers, sliding them back and forth over the hard bundle. The flogger hits the ground with a pronounced thud, barely registering as my body screams with pleasure. I'm so close, soaking wet, and pulsing with need.

Her bare open hand strikes my ass, sending a muffled cry from between my gagged lips. She squeezes her fingers together around my clit and when her hand lands on my searing ass again, my whole body soars to a profound, and loud, orgasm.

Alana unclips the rope from above me and releases the knot binding my hands. We sink to the floor together and I hear a sob break from her lips. Before my ecstasy subsides, her whole body is shaking, tears streaming down her face. I pull the gag from my mouth, wrap my arms around her, and begin rocking us back and forth, humming gently.

Slowly, her body begins to relax into my arms and her sobs give way to sniffles. My voice is just above a whisper. "Talk to me, 'Lana."

She takes a deep breath, exhaling shakily. "I'm so sorry, Sophie. I shouldn't have done that. I was not in control. I have no excuse for that."

"It's ok. I'm ok," I reassure her. "The truth is, that felt absolutely necessary to me. I hurt you. I was just so stunned by my family just showing up, and I handled it so badly. I acted like I was ashamed of our relationship when I was really just scared of their disapproval. But you make me so happy, and I want everyone to know how in love I am with you. I'll tell them tomorrow."

She nods, and we curl up together on the floor of the cloudroom and watch the sky turn pink as the sun slips behind the West Hills.

***

It's early, for me at least. The sun is streaming in, and Alana is rubbing my back as I slowly wake.

"Good morning, beautiful," she purrs, kissing me on the cheek. I turn toward her, slipping my arms around her and pulling her lips to mine. Her thumb caresses my jaw as my fingers wind into her blonde tresses. She nips at my lip and I'm instantly awake, arousal warming my whole body. My tongue slips into her mouth as my other hand slides over her thigh.

"Oh no you don't," she teases as she breaks our kiss. "We have an appointment." The embers warming in my center are instantly doused as I remember the previous evening. My

family is here, and I have a closet to come out of.

"It's ok, love." Alana, my angel. I know she won't push me, but this is something I need to do, no matter how terrifying. But how can I find the strength?

We put ourselves together as I arrange our breakfast meeting with my mother, but I'm shaking the whole time. As we approach the restaurant, my feet slow. I feel like I'm walking in tar. Alana squeezes my hand a little tighter.

"You can do this, Sophie. Your family loves you. I love you," she says before releasing my hand and opening the door for me. And there they are, all waiting at a table watching us. My doubts are screaming in my head.

My mother eyes us both with suspicion before asking in a decidedly passive-aggressive tone, "Are you joining us today, Alana? I thought you would have needed to work."

"I work for myself as a writer, so I certainly can make time for Sophie and her family," she answers with a smile.

"Well, that's sweet. Every girl needs a good friend like you."

I can feel Alana tense next to me, but she just smiles before I interject, "We have a big road trip planned today to give you all a good taste of the Pacific Northwest, so we should get some food in us before we head out."

We all make small talk and order before Alana excuses herself to the restroom. I know I can't blame her for peeing, but I feel so exposed without her next to me.

Through the haze of my distraction, I make out my mother's voice. "So, what's her story, Sophie? She's very pretty; how is she not married yet?"

Brigid lets out an exasperated sigh. "Mom..."

"What? Of course, y'all seem very connected, but that must make it hard to meet men. Have you met anyone yet, by the way? You're not getting any younger."

"I'm just fine, mom. I've got everything I need." It's all I can say before our food arrives, sparing me further mortification.

The rest of the day is a blur of entertaining my family. We venture out into the Columbia River Gorge to show them the iconic Multnomah Falls. The weather is beautiful, clear and dry. I bask in my family's awe at the iconic falls and sneak a kiss with Alana under the cool spray when they turn away. We leave the Gorge in Hood River to drive through the blooming apple and cherry orchards on the way to Mount Hood and Timberline Lodge.

The landscape is awash in pink and white blossoms, and every time the wind gusts, a tumble of color turns the landscape into an Impressionist painting. Alana is driving our rented SUV, and despite our surroundings, I can't stop looking at her stunning profile, calm and alert. My heart skips when she peeks at me from the corner of her eye and her lip curls upwards. I feel my blush rise with my own smile before I notice my grandmother watching me from the middle seat behind us. I turn away quickly and resume ogling the blossoms instead of my love.