Emma's POV:
I quietly open my front door with a hint of discretion, not at all wanting to make a single sound that may compel annoyance.
Tiptoeing, place my bag, phone and keys on the countertop safely, and flick the lights on, bringing my house to life, only to see Connor and Max both asleep on the couch, the display of cuteness before me overwhelming.
"Awh...cute." i snap a quick picture of them both, their bodies slumped against each others as they sleep deeply, and cover their overlapped anatomies with a fluffy blanket for warmth, slipping my feet-aching high heels off, tossed to the side, and deciding to snuggle up with them, making myself comfortable in my spot, which unfortunately wakes Max up ever so slightly. "Mama..." he groggily mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his curled up little fists.
Despite the vexation of awakening my son, i can't help but find his tiny actions somewhat adorable. I allow my twinkling smile to grin at him, and i unexpectedly realise how much i missed him during my night out. "Hey, my little prince. Did you have fun with Uncle Connor?"
He enthusiastically nods his little head, his curly floppy hair moving in which every direction. "Yah! We gots to whisper cuz he's seeping!"
"I know, baby." i allow myself to fall asleep with them both, peacefully slipping into a dreamworld i'm more than fond of being greeted by yet again, the real world whisping away...
When i wake up, what seems like a mixture of hours later, i open my eyes to find Max gone from my sight, and so is Connor. A feeling of worry immediately fills my stomach, the perturbed maternal feeling instant. "Max?!"
"Don't worry, he's in his cot. Morning, sleepyhead." i let my eyes travel around the space near me, thankfully to see Connor in the kitchen, stirring a metal utensil in a mug, looking like he's making himself a morning beverage.
"Mm, i wouldn't talk to me in the morning before i've had coffee." taking the obvious hint, Connor generously pushes a large lilac mug in my direction, which scrapes against the marble surface of my kitchen island. I cordially take the drinking cup between both my hands to be warmly greeted by the mellow feeling, and i take a risky sip of the hot drink, and cough out the liquid immediately, before i accidentally authorise myself to swallow the disgusting liquid, not wanting to consume it.
I place the mug back down, staring at it and my friend in disgust. "Ew! This has milk in it." Connor gave me an odd look, his clear perplexity smothered across his babyface. "Uh, coffee is supposed to have milk in it-"
"Not my coffee's!" i say, crossing my arms over my chest childishly at his failure to impress me with my wake up beverage. Really, Con? I've known you for years, and this is how you treat me? Traitor.
"Well, i'm very sorry then." "As you should be..." i say with a small pout. Connor only laughs manly toward me, and plucks a coffee sachet from a tin perched near the previously boiled kettle, and kindly fills up the mug with the boiled water requested to make my drink.
Now satisfied, i uncross my arms and take an unnecessarily long sip, my pout disappearing. "Thank you. Did you sleep well?"
A humoured breath escapes his mouth, "Yeah, i had a cute blonde sleeping on my chest the whole night." my apple cheeks turn a colour which i'm sure resembles the shade of a tomato at his mention of my position on my friends chest. Connor finds humour in this, and smirks with empowerment at my child-like blushing, "Sorry about that..."
"S'fine. How was your night? Went clubbing?" i chuckle at his misconception of me, as my previously spent evening went very differently than he might think. "You really think i'm the kind of girl to go clubbing? Tsk, fool. Y'know Lauren Thorne?" his eyebrows raise at the mention of her esteemed name, probably not what he was expecting.
"Abbey Wood's most rich dominatrix? I'm familiar." i take a sip of my now acceptable coffee to buy myself some time, unsure of his anticipated reaction to the information i'm about to deliver to him. "Well, she actually asked me out on a date funnily enough." Connor stops short at the information, clearly astonished by the information i'm feeding him, but also somewhat disappointed. "R-really?"
"Yes. She took me out for a date, it was amazing. Thank you so much for-"
"You went on a date? I- i thought you went out with some friends." as Connor cuts me off, i become very aware of his curt tone in which he's speaking to me with, his normal, cutely-spoken soft voice disappearing into the unknown. "Mm, no. It's been a while since i went on a date...since what happened with Max's father, i just haven't felt like it..."
Completely ignoring me, Connor speaks again, his facial expressions not giving anything away as to the mood he's currently in. "So, this Lauren, then...do you fancy her?" he tries to make the sentence sound as innocent as possible, but when you've known someone for so long, you become knowledgeable about digging beneath the thick layer of appearance, and finding the true emotion.
"I do, and I think she feels the same way, or at least i hope she does...i've never felt like this before, heh...anyway, thank you for taking care of Maxy. He really loves you." he manages to form a small smile, one that i can easily tell is fake. I become concerned for my friend, as this is no where near what his usual emotions are portrayed like.
"He's the least annoying toddler i've met, so i guess i kinda love him too." the more i listen to Connor's voice, my suspicions are confirmed, i can quite easily tell that he's feeling down about something, however i'm not entirely sure what it could be. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing much-" i stop him before he can tell me a fib, already knowing he will begin the usual BS that consists of sentences like 'i'm perfectly fine' and 'don't worry about me' because frankly, we all know whenever our friends say things like that, it usually means the complete opposite. "Don't lie to me, i know what that face means." Connor immediately changes his facial state, trying to cover up his messy situation, "What face?"
As i begin to form my detective personality, i cross my arms, this time with a state of dominance in me, one leg pushed forward and tapping lightly on the ground. "The totally non-convincing one that you're doing to hide it. Come on, Con. Tell me what's wrong. You know i won't stop until i find out."
Noticing my demanding tone, i can tell from the sheepish look on his face he will immediately attempt to metaphorically crawl out of my clutches, but i refuse to let him.
"Is it a girl? It's a girl isn't it? I feel like it's a girl." Connor sighs and drags his left hand down the side of his face in great depression, my pressing manner pushing an answer out of him. "Okay...it's a girl."
A triumphant grin echoes around my lips, my ego soothed as i knew my suspicions were correct. "Mm. What is she like?" he manages to stifle a smile for me all things considering, his green eyes taking a gander at my cocky appearance. "She's amazing, beautiful, sexy..."
Without hesitation, i ask the obvious question, hoping i'll get an answer, but knowing i most likely won't. "Who is it?"
"Your mom." i roll my eyes skyward, growing tired of the same joke i've heard since high school. Seriously, Connor? The 'your mom' jokes? They're getting a tad old now mate, even for me.
I hit him back with a rebuttal, "Considering my mom was a complete bitch, what a poor choice on your part. C'mon, tell me who it is!" i urge, becoming increasingly aware how immature i sound but i find it hard to care.
"I- i'd rather not...i'll talk to you later, okay?" my cheeky face falls into a solemnly apologetic one, and i sense i've crossed some kind of line i wasn't aware had been drawn during our conversation. "Wait, Con, what's wrong?" i say, knowing a nerve has been struck, and it's all my fault. Damn it, Emma. Why do you have to be so nosy?
"Nothing, i promise. Tell the little guy that i said bye?" he tries to put my concerns to a halt with a sad smile, but i know i've gone too far. Cautious of pushing him even further, i accept his response. "Yeah, sure..." he gives me a sad hug goodbye, his strong arms lingering around my back. "Bye, Con..." the hug lasts a bit longer than i expected it to, but i'm hardly allowed to complain after i upset him. He somewhat reluctantly lets go of me, and leaves my house without another word.
I bang my knuckles against the hefty, well-polished door which is the entrance to the woman who i can't stop think about's place of residency, greeting each other with a smile when the door opens, "Max, don't touch that!" before i can stop him, my son runs into Lauren's house and grabs everything he sees, finding every artefact held in her home something worth his time and interest.
Max picks up an item in the shape of a goblet, and a collection of metal, old fashioned coins come spilling out of it when he tilts it upside down, concentrating on it's perfect carvings, not caring about the mess he made. "Ooo, what dis mummy?" i groan, taking the item out of his hands and scooping up the mess with my hands, placing them back inside, after i balance the pretty golden object back where he found it. I crouch down to my son's level, preparing to reprimand him. "Max, you don't touch things that aren't yours. I'd like you to say sorry to Lauren now, please."
A wave of realisation ghosts over him, noticing i'm serious. He stares up at Lauren, who is a fair bit taller than him, a look of rightly placed sorrow dancing on his face. "Sowwy, 'Auren..."
"It's okay, little one. These coins are cool, huh? Would you like one?" he eagerly nods and chooses one from the cup. I have to say, i'm surprised Lauren is so lenient with children, because i half expected her to have bubble wrapped the house knowing that a two year old was going to be running around, potentially causing an unbelievable amount of chaos.
"Thank you for letting us come over for dinner. What do you say, Maxy?"
"Tank youuu!"
"You're welcome, kiddo. I'm going to make pesto pasta for dinner, is that okay?" Max inhales a large amount of oxygen in happiness, his face grinning widely as he jumps around in a circle with an undying about of excitement. "PAS'AAAAA!" i chuckle lightly, "Max loves pasta, don't you baby?"
"Love pasta, mummy!" Lauren laughs at my son's reaction to the news, crouching down and booping his nose with a kind, warm smile on her face, which he also mimics. "Well, that's very good to hear."
I decide to set up some colouring pencils and a colouring book for the little guy, to occupy him whilst me and Lauren make dinner. If there's anything i've learned from being a mother, it's that a bored child is an unhappy child.
Lauren allows me to sit on the kitchen island, just like she did at the party a few weeks ago, and i watch in fascination as she begins preparing our meal, watching her body delicately move to carry out small actions. I slip off of the counter and decide to help her by washing the pesto in the sink for her, while she empties the pasta into a saucepan. "I didn't know you were much of a cook."
She arches a dominant eyebrow at me, telling me off subtly, "I thought i told you to sit down, Emma. You don't need to help me, y'know. I'm perfectly capable."
"Yeah, but..." i begin filling up her kettle with water, placing it back on the base with a click for the pasta, "...i like to keep busy. Max is perfectly fine over there, and if i don't help you it makes me feel lousy." i shrug my shoulders with a light smile, but Lauren sighs and allows me to aid her cook the meal. "I'm guessing you were one of those kids who's parents taught them to be useful."
"Yeah, something like that. I like helping."
"Well, if you really wanna help, chop up that onion and pepper for me." "Yes, Ma'am." i finley dice and slice the onion and pepper, grinning as i'm impressed with my work, before chucking it into a seperate saucepan Lauren heated up with oil for the other ingredients.
"Wow, for a detective, you sure know your way around a chef's knife." Lauren says stood next to me, seeming rather impressed with my developed cookery skills.
"That comes from years of meal preps from being an older sister. My dads worked a lot, so it was down to me and my brother to make most meals." i say as i continue chopping the vegetables, carefully working my hands to cut them to an acceptable level.
"Well, i'm very impressed. Now, i insist you go and sit down with your son. That's an order, Emma." i dip my head, disappointed, but not exactly eager to misbehave for her, and possibly be punished. "Okay, okay." as i turn and make my way toward Max, who's laid on the living room floor, happily scribbling away on some paper, i feel a spatula harshly smack my bum, and my hands rush to it instantly, a gasp whispering out of my mouth.
I turn around to face Lauren, who's grinning innocently back at me, "Lauren!" her face begins to morph into one of constructive reprimand. "I know you didn't just speak to me in that tone, Emmeline..." i guiltily gulp, realising how i just spoke.
"I- i'm sorry, Mistress..." by the expression on her face, it becomes apparent to me that an apology won't be enough. "Come back here. Now." i follow Lauren's sharp voice, and my feet take my body across the way back into the kitchen. "Give me your hand." she holds her larger one flat in front of me, and i place mine into it, worried about what's going to happen. After placing the spatula she used to spank me with aside, "Count."
Lauren smacks the back of my hand, a sharp sting being left behind. Her eyes burn deep into my soul as she awaits the number, "One." she smacks it again, considerably harder than before. I wince in undoubtable pain, "Ow...two..."
"Good girl. One more." before the final blow lands, Lauren pats the surface of my reddening hand a few times, noticing the pain inflicted before inflicting more with her fingertips. "Mm, three..." she clasps her hand around my fingers, lifting the back of it toward her lips and pressing a soft kiss.
"Apologise for your behaviour." she demands. "I- i'm really sorry for how i spoke to you, Mistress..." she grins, knowing the punishment she administered on me worked. "Good girl. If it happens again, you can expect me to bend you over for a spanking elsewhere. Do i make myself clear?"
My entire body squirms as i suddenly realise how tight Lauren's grip on my fingers really is. "Y-yes, Mistress...perfectly clear..." i attempt to recompose myself as i head back to my son, trying my best to cover up my blushing...
When she's finished cooking, Lauren, myself and Max sit around the esteemed dining table sat in the far east area of her kitchen, enjoying our lovely evening meal.
It feels so surreal to be sat here: i never thought i'd be here, in the house of a highly distributed dominatrix, who is by far the most beautiful woman i've ever laid eyes on.
It's something i could quite easily get used to.
Out of the blue, we hear the front door open with a peculiar racket, the loud claps of high heels stepping along the hallway, apparent to our ears even from far away. "Oh, are you expecting someone?"
Lauren looks just as confused as i am, placing her knife and fork down to sip on some wine with a concerned brow raised. "No, i asked all my employees to go home for the night and to not disturb us." we wait out the suspicious noises, but then, unannounced, a woman about Lauren's age swans in the house, shoulder length wavy blonde hair, a black skirt paired with a light pink blouse tucked in, the business outfit rather impressive, and a smile plastered on her face, waltzing around like she owns the place, and everything in it.
Her gaze purely rests on Lauren, who looks just as amazed as me. Who on earth is this woman? "You started dinner without me, baby?" to my definite surprise, the blonde woman strides up to Lauren and presses a firm kiss on her cheek, and that only sparks more concern in my mind, as well as a sick sinking feeling beginning at my heart and landing in the bottomless pit of my stomach.
It's happening all over again...i knew Lauren couldn't possibly be any different than the rest of them that used me then tossed me aside...my worst fears are coming true, and at the worst possible time as i was just getting used to life with this woman...
"Lauren, who is-"
"Don't you think it's time you went home?" the other blonde woman shoots her rather pertinent sentence toward me. Who the hell does she think she is? As i'm about to reply, and so is Lauren, we're both cut off again, "Who is this small child?"
Max tilts his head and chews on his plastic fork thoughtfully, "Who dat mummy?"
Lauren sighs internally, clearly keeping something from me that i suspect is definitely about to come out. No more hiding, Lauren. "This is Rebecca..." Lauren's eyes glance over at me before continuing, "...my wife."
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