By Valley Vixin Lesbian Authoritarian
( My Lady will forgive my trespass, for I cannot write this story from my point of view. I must assume yours. I admit I will do a poor job, and that my ignorance may require correction. I do this out of love, out of need, and because I don't see others showing what you have shown and taught me.)
We were at a mixer. The local LGBTQ+ groups were approaching the coming election with the usual sense that if they did not band together in a single voice, no one would care what they had to say. The result of which was social mixers like this where political Lesbians, bisexual and transfolk came together to argue about what they could agree they wanted from those politicians who remembered this small segment of the population actually voted, and remembered broken promises.
My Jan is a bit of an odd duck in this crowd. Saved from looking butch by long red hair and curves that could make a convincing Jessica Rabbit, she had a lot more muscle and a lot heavier frame than her femme dress and makeup implied. She was also a veteran, a soldier with very stark views on some political matters utterly divorced from theory, and grounded in the sorts of things that one does not bring up at a dinner party.
I listened to her in the discussions, smiling as she managed people with the sorts of skills you would expect from a woman who worked in education, sideslipping attempts to save a failing debate by drifting into personal attack with enough skill half the participants didn't notice, and the other half were wise enough to emulate. She wanted to be my pet, but she was the kind of pet you needed a strong leash for, a wolf who thought herself a puppy.
It finally happened, we hit a topic where we disagreed. I challenged her without really thinking about it. I had my opinion and we both knew who was in charge. She responded. Oh well now. This was too good to miss. Taking a sip of wine, I listened to her counter argument. I knew her buttons. She was mine, so manipulating her was almost effortless, arousing her was almost effortless. Once aroused controlling her was dangerous. I took another sip of my wine and laughed at her responses. The women around us divided. Half pressed closer to see the show, half faded in fear of a scene. There would be a scene.
I knew a little about the subject, and cared a little about it. Foreign policy isn't really my thing. Jan as a soldier knew a bit more, cared a lot more, and came at me hammer and tongs, with facts and examples lined up like a freight train. Her opinion was not the one most common to the salon lesbian liberal, so more than one of our friends tried and failed to argue my side. I encouraged them, not because I thought they were right, Jan's evidence was good, and I hadn't previously cared enough to look for evidence myself so was willing to concede the point. What I was not willing to concede was the chance to see my wolf at war.
She was magnificent, poised, proud, brilliant. She demolished their arguments, withstood their slurs with the sort of amusement you expect a grade school teacher to have to the defiance of a brat receiving discipline. I let the battle go on long enough that all could see she had won it, against the crowd of them she had won.
I stepped forward, grabbed her by the red hair she almost never leaves down and turned her face to me. The room went silent.
"You were right." I kissed her, long hard, and deep. The kiss of ownership.
I pulled back, she was wide eyed, panting, the proud goddess of war now paralyzed by a desire that shatters her battle frenzy, her personal boundaries, her sense, her reason and her shame.
I pulled her head back, kissed and licked my way up her neck to her ear, bit her ear ungently and growled, "And you are MINE!"
I stepped back, and tugged her hair once downward as I held out my shoe. Without a thought, without a single hesitation, she fell to her knees among the gasping women and began to passionately kiss and lick my shoes, pressing her face against me.
The bolder lesbians formed a wall keeping the wider crowd from seeing what we did, and the circle closed to witness the rest of the scene play out, like a pack around a trapped deer.
"You have me so worked up Jan, I cannot have a civilized discussion when you have me this wet. You will deal with it now."
I looked down at her, between my legs, surrounded by a crowd that she had brought to heel and made back down. Now she had risen from kissing my feet to worship at my pussy. Her wide blue eyes looked up at me with the sort of adoration a new puppy or nursing baby would be hard pressed to equal. Her hunger, her need, to worship my sex with her mouth was plain to see. She held nothing back and gave herself wantonly to serving me. I sipped my wine and looked down on her.
I placed my hand on her head, keeping my voice steady took an act of will, she was very good at pleasing me. Demonstrating my power over my pet was far headier than the wine, and that was not helping my control. I looked down on her, and told her.
"You will be in no fit state for intelligent conversation if that pussy of yours isn't dealt with. You may cum after I do, but only if you can do it before I finish." I told her. I swear one of the butch lesbians just about choked on her canape as my pet spread her legs towards the crowd and began working her clit as if it was a bomb to be disarmed to save the world.
Honestly, I needed the bar stool as my legs were a problem as the shocks of my pending orgasm began to blast through me. I took the last of my wine in a gulp and fumbled the glass to the bar, missing the coaster cleanly. I grabbed the bar with one hand, Jan's head with the other as I let her tongue bring me to bliss.
Were I a young woman with something to prove, I should have remained stock still to prove how unmoved I was. Such foolishness is beneath both of us, so I wrapped one leg over her shoulder and between arm and leg pulled her into me, riding her face as she brought heaven down to earth for me to enjoy.
I heard her scream into my quim as she came, and felt her collapse onto her knees.
A circle of hands helped us both up and helped to straighten our clothes. There may have been a liberty or two taken, but I chose to overlook it in the spirit of community. Reaching into my purse, I took out two wine tickets we had been given. I extended both to her.
"Be a dear and get us both a glass. I think you have earned it." I said, sending her of with a smile and a roll in her hips that left me content to track her the length of the room.
Mine. Strong, proud, fierce, but first and most important. Mine.
Apologies if this comes off strange, I lived the half of the story I am not telling. I can only tell it from the point of view of My Lady, who made it happen, and who understands.
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