Page 2 of Minha Dona

“Your jeans,” Alessandra said. Her voice was unsteady, yet commanding. “Pull them down.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Pull them down. Your underwear too.”

“I can’t move my hands.”

Alessandra hesitated, then let go of Helena’s wrists. Helena lay there for a moment, her freed hands above her head, suddenly able to move but not moving. She could push Alessandra off now. Could sit up, try to laugh it off, say that it had got out of hand and suggest they go to dinner.

But instead, her hands went to the button of her jeans.

Helena didn’t decide to do it. Her body just did it, her fingers working the button and the zip while Alessandra watched from above, her hand still in Helena’s hair, her eyes uncertain and filled with desire. Helena lifted her hips and pushed the jeans down to her knees, the underwear with them, and the cool air of Alessandra’s apartment hit her bare skin. She shivered.

She didn’t push them further. She couldn’t, with Alessandra’s weight on her legs. The denim bunched at her knees, restricting her, an accidental restraint that neither of them had intended but that made Helena feel more exposed, more trapped, more helpless than if she’d been fully naked.

“I don’t…” Alessandra started to say, then stopped. She looked at Helena’s face, then down, then back to her face. “I’ve never… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Neither do I,” Helena whispered.

“Do you want me to stop? If I’ve gone too far…”

Helena looked up at this woman: her girlfriend, her equal, her rival, who was pinning her down on a student bed with one hand in her hair and the other braced beside her head, who seemed to be running entirely on instinct, who looked as thrillingly scared and as aroused as Helena felt.

“No. Don’t stop.”

Alessandra kissed her again, less aggressive this time but still assertive, and her braced hand moved, down Helena’s side, over her hip, finding the bare skin of her thigh where her jeans had been pushed down. Helena flinched at the touch, not from pain but from sensitivity, from the sheer erotic thrill of being touched like this, exposed and pinned with the denim bunched at her knees.

Alessandra’s hand moved to between Helena’s legs and Helena gasped because the contact sent a shock through her body that was so intense she thought for a moment she might black out.

She was soaked. She had been, she realised, since Alessandra had pinned her wrists. Since before that even… since the hand on her jaw, since the wrestling, since the argument. Her body had known what her mind hadn’t, had been responding to Alessandra’s attempts at dominance long before Helena had a name for what was happening.

“Helena,” Alessandra murmured, her fingers exploring, touching Helena in a place and a way that made coherent thought impossible. “You’re so…”

“Don’t talk,” Helena gasped. “Just… don’t stop.”

Alessandra didn’t stop. She knew exactly what she was doing with Helena, responding to every gasp and flinch and shift of Helena’s body, adjusting without being told. Her hand in Helena’s hair pulled tighter and Helena moaned at the sensation, the grip on her scalp meeting the pressure between her legs. The combination was building something inside her, fast, a coiling tension that she recognised well but that felt qualitatively different from anything she’d experienced. It was sharper, deeper, more consuming.

Alessandra shifted her weight. “Give me your belt.”

Helena complied, pulling the leather belt from her jeans, desperate for Alessandra to finish what she started but seemingly unable to do anything but obey.

“Wrists.”

Helena held them out and Alessandra took her hands from Helena’s body momentarily to wrap the belt around her wrists before tying a knot. Helena tried them and realised she was bound tight.

Alessandra moved to sit on the bed, her back against the wall, her feet dangling over the side towards the floor. “Over my lap.” When Helena hesitated she added, “Now.”

Helena moved and lay across Alessandra’s lap, her arms bound in front of her, her bare rear and thighs exposed, the rougher fabric of Alessandra’s jeans exquisite against the front of Helena’s body. She felt Alessandra’s fingers tighten possessively again through her hair, holding her tight, and then suddenly the other hand came down on Helena’s bare ass, a sharp slap that cracked through the room. Helena yelped, from surprise more than pain, and felt the sting turn into warmth, a warmth that seemed to flow directly into the building pleasure between her legs.

Alessandra froze. “Sorry. I don’t know why I…”

“Again,” Helena heard herself interrupt, turning her head to look back over her shoulder at her girlfriend. Where had that come from?

Alessandra looked at her. Helena could see the shock in her face, the uncertainty, the arousal. Neither of them understood what was happening. Neither of them had done this before. But Alessandra let go of her hair, moved one hand to play between her legs from behind, and brought her other hand down again, harder. The crack of her palm against Helena’s skin combined with the pressure of her fingers between Helena’s legs to produce a sensation so overwhelming that Helena’s whole body jerked and she cried out.

After that it was a blur… Alessandra’s hands alternating between the sharp sting on her ass and thigh, and the relentless pressure between her legs, Helena writhing over her lap with her jeans around her knees and her bound hands gripping the sheets above her head, some part of her understanding that this was where she belonged.

She came harder than she’d ever come in her life. The orgasm tore through her, her whole body shaking, a cry that she couldn’t have stifled if she’d tried. Alessandra’s hand stilled between her legs, pressing firmly against her as she tightened around her fingers, and Helena gripped the sheets and writhed and shook until there was nothing left.