Other companions would be severely chastised for succumbing to their crisis before ensuring their Mistress has reached at least one pinnacle, but Coralie isn’t so selfish.
“It’s coming already,” Pet whimpers, lifting her head to watch Coralie ride her, whining and mewling at the sight of her priapus being swallowed up by Coralie’s sex. “It’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming …”
“That’s it, Pet.” Coralie squeezes her muscles around Pet’s erection. “Come inside me.”
Pet cries out, jerking her hips up as Coralie bears down. Driven instinctively to deliver her gift deep inside Coralie’s womb—moon night or not—she hilts herself, grabbing the older woman’s hips and crushing their bodies together.
Her unexpected forcefulness catches Coralie off-guard, causing a small paroxysm to ripple through her. She tries to count Pet’s ejaculatory contractions, but loses track at ten.
“You’re so virile!”
She’s ecstatic, but Pet looks ashamed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t last.”
“Don’t be sorry, Pet. Things are going to be very different for you from now on.” Coralie remains skewered. “I’ll be patient, and I’ll train you well.”
“I want to please you.”
“And you will.” Coralie feels Pet move inside her. “You’re starting to get hard again already—ah, delicious youth!” She lifts herself off Pet’s hot lance and rolls onto her back. “I want you on top.” She positions herself for sex. “Don’t be too afraid, and don’t hold back if you want to come again. You probably won’t last long the first few times, but I shan’t be angry. Endurance will come with practice, and let me assure you, I shall be giving you plenty of practice.” She winks.
Pet tries to say something else, but Coralie silences her with a kiss.
“Hush now, Pet.” She pulls her new companion onto her. “Just make love to me.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Six weeks later …
Coralie’s blood red fingernails scrape against her Egyptian cotton sheets, clawing and gripping at the fabric. Loose curls of her long raven mane spill over her white pillowcase, tousled from sleep and the tug-and-pull of night-long sex, and she comes again, grinding her core into Pet’s face.
Having woken from fevered dreams, her heart pounding and her body pulsing with lust, she’d been pleased to find her bedmate similarly aroused, and promptly took advantage of a willing and highly skilled tongue. Twice.
Her second climax subsiding, she giggles, feeling her lover’s tongue snake up her body, and she lifts the covers, peering beneath to welcome Pet up for air.
Naked but for her collar, Pet emerges from the southern realms of the king-sized bed in Coralie’s decadently decorated bedroom, licking her bare pink lips and savoring every last drop of Coralie’s precious honey. Her odd-colored eyes burn with lust for her Mistress, her bangs now trimmed so as not to conceal them.
“Good morning, my love.” Coralie cups Pet’s cheeks and draws her into a kiss, emitting a faint ‘oomph’ when she feels the tip of her companion’s rigid priapus slip between her labia, nudging her opening.
“Ooh,” she murmurs, wriggling her hips to embed the phallus deeper, though only by an inch. “Do you want to fuck me, Pet?”
Pet dips her head and groans with need, but waits for permission to push forward. She’d woken up with a stiffening, tiny beads of anticipation already forming, but she must wait a little longer for her pleasure.
Taking hold of Pet’s hips, Coralie jerks her pelvis up and down, rubbing the head of Pet’s oozing hardness along her slit.
“My darling,” she coos, feeling a copious amount of pre-ejaculatory fluid smearing onto her already slick flesh. “Is all that excitement for me?”
She continues to tease, denying Pet entry while stimulating her to the point of causing small shudders to ripple through her body. Then she clasps her hands to Pet’s cheeks, forcing the trembling brunette to make eye contact.
“I want you inside me, Pet.”
Wasting no second, Pet drives forward and pierces Coralie, hilting herself on the first thrust and moaning in unison with her Mistress. Quickly working up a rhythm, she pumps her weeping anatomy into the very deepest part of Coralie’s sex, eliciting a series of vehement affirmations punctuated with various wails and whines.
Thirty minutes in and three orgasms later, Coralie clutches Pet’s rump, pulling her tighter. “So close again, my Pet.” She digs in her nails. “So close!”
Pet, too, is on the cusp of her inevitable peak. Struggling to keep rhythm, she begins to shake, her breathing labored. Pressure is building at the base of her augmentation, and she clenches her muscles, determined to hold back her release.
It starts to hurt, but she grits her teeth and forges on. After another minute of vigorous fucking, her brow creases and she chews hard on her lower lip, drawing blood, her pained expression signaling her desperate need to come—something which she cannot do until Coralie permits it.
Sensing the strain in Pet’s body, Coralie lifts her head, bringing her lips to Pet’s ear. “Come for me, Pet,” she whispers, both giving her consent and issuing an order.
Dutifully—and thankfully—Pet lets herself go. Growling and grunting, she quickens her pace, stabbing into Coralie with as much force as she can muster until she feels Coralie’s muscles tighten around her and she achieves the pinnacle of her pleasure. As heat burns up her shaft, she buries herself deep inside Coralie, the swollen head pressed firmly against her Mistress’s rubbery cervix, flooding her womb.
When it’s over, she lowers herself on top of her Mistress, panting heavily.
“Is that better, Pet?” Coralie strokes her hair.
Pet nods and whimpers, too weak to move.
“Me, too, darling.” Coralie kisses the side of her head. “You please me like no-one else ever has, and if I’m not very much mistaken …” She grabs Pet’s bum and rolls her hips, sliding herself up and down Pet’s length. “You’re not done pleasing me yet. You’re still so hard.” She pulls Pet into a kiss. “It must be because this evening will be the first night of the full moon.”
Pet looks uncomfortable, her euphoria fading.
“I’m ready when you are.” Coralie keeps humping her. “You know that.”
She’s hoping for another round of sex—with any luck, a prelude to a night of intense lovemaking fueled by a mutual yearning to conceive—but instead, she feels Pet’s anatomy shrivel inside her. Disappointed, she releases her grip on Pet’s rear and lets her pull out.
When their union is broken, she peers down, saddened to see that Pet’s lost all trace of her erection. In fact, she’s lost all trace of her priapus. In its place, a perfect vagina is nestled between her legs, her distinctly female sex ornamented with a triangle of bushy brown pubic hair.
“What am I doing wrong, Pet?” Coralie sits up, the shift causing Pet’s seminal deposit to begin its downward descent. “Why does the thought of giving me a child kill your desire for me?”
Pet wriggles to the edge of the bed, staring dismally at her altered genitalia, knowing from experience that it could be hours before the thing returns to its augmented state.
“Talk to me, Pet.” Coralie shuffles up behind her, rubbing her shoulders. “You know I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to do, but I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”
“I know.” Pet sighs. “You’ve been so patient.”
“I understood why you didn’t feel ready on the last moon.” Coralie’s shoulder rub turns into a full-on massage. “We’d only been together for a few days. We were still getting to know one another, you were shy, and I didn’t want you to think I was merely using you for breeding.”
Pet cringes. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why?” Coralie’s ministrations cease.
“Being with you is so confusing.” Pet begins to sob, overwhelmed by Coralie’s compassion. “The way you treat me goes against everything I was t
aught to expect from this life. You’re supposed to use me for breeding. That’s the whole point of me. It’s my purpose.”
“But, darling”—Coralie turns Pet to face her—“I don’t want you to sire your first progeny just because it’s expected of you. I don’t want to conceive knowing that you have no emotional investment in my pregnancy. This should be something that we do together, because we both want to have a child.”
“I do want to.” Pet sniffles, tears streaking down her face. “I dream about it all the time. Awake or asleep, I can’t get the thought out of my head.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Coralie’s heart swells to bursting, Pet’s confession very nearly bringing her to tears of her own. “What’re you so afraid of?”
Pet’s brow creases with an insecurity Coralie hasn’t seen since their first night together.
“Just … what if I can’t?” she says slowly.
“Can’t what?” Coralie strokes her back, coaxing her to open up.
“Fill my purpose.” Pet pats her bangs down over her forehead, even though they’re now far too short to hide behind. “If I can’t give you what you need, then you won’t want me anymore. You’ll give me the boot and—”
Coralie tugs Pet’s hands away, cupping her clammy cheeks. “What makes you think you won’t be able to fill your purpose?”
“When I was with Mistress Isabelle, this always happened.” Pet jabs a finger at her feminine parts. “So it’s true what everyone says: I’m broken.”
“It’s all right, love.” Coralie tries not to stare at the beautiful pink cleft hiding at the apex of her thighs. “It happens to all young companions at some time or another. It certainly doesn’t mean you’re defective. Learning to control the emergence of your secondary assets can take time.”
“Control it?” Pet appears genuinely confused.
“Well, yes, of course.” Coralie frowns. “Have you never been told? You can will your priapus away whenever you so wish. For a short time at least.”
Pet digests that, her cheeks turning a fiery shade of red at the thought of all the indignities her unwilling appendage has caused her. “Mistress Isabelle didn’t care for my innie bits. When I couldn’t perform for her, she’d …” At a loss for words, she holds out her index finger, hoping that the visual clue will suffice.
It doesn’t.
Coralie looks thoroughly bewildered.
“It was the only way she could get me to come,” Pet explains, growing more uncomfortable by the second. “It prevented me from losing the necessary parts, and the effect was pretty much instantaneous.”
“I don’t understand.” Coralie shakes her head, unable to fathom it. “What did she do?”
“She’d stimulate me inside.” Pet flops onto the bed, hiding herself in the crumpled bed sheets, muffling her words. “In my bum-be-doo.”
“Oh …” Coralie works that over in her mind, absently fondling one of Pet’s tightly clenched buttocks. “Did you like it?”
Pet lifts her head up so that Coralie can see the scowl plastered on her face.
“Okay.” Coralie holds up her hands, surrendering. “I was only asking.”
“It’s embarrassing.” Pet plunges her head back into the sheets. “She made me ejaculate into a teacup, then she’d scoop it onto her fingers and—”
Coralie snorts, suppressing a laugh, resulting in another scowl.
“I’m sorry.” She covers her mouth. “But a teacup? Really? My love, you could not possibly be contained in a teacup. You practically flood me every time we couple.”
“It wasn’t like that with her,” Pet mumbles into the duvet.
Getting the distinct impression that this problem will not be so easily swept away—Pet’s fears and insecurities well ingrained in her—Coralie cuddles up to her.
“Listen to me, darling. It wasn’t your fault. Isabelle was an older woman, and it’s no shock to me that she wasn’t able to conceive with you. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve got no reason to believe that you won’t be able to get me pregnant.”
“But what if?” Pet clings to her pessimism.
“All right.” Coralie shrugs. “What if? What do you think would become of you?”
“I’d be relegated to the coterie.”
“Says who?”
“Mistress Isabelle.” Pet rolls onto her back, peering sorrowfully up at Coralie. “Not that I cared much what happened to me then.”
“But you do now?”
Pet’s eyes fill with fresh tears. “I don’t want to be with any other Mistress.”
“Then we’re perfectly suited,” Coralie assures her, breaking into a smile. “I don’t want to be with any other companion.” Her smile broadens. “Gods, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say these things.”
“Why?”
“Because I was starting to think you hated the thought of siring my children. Now I know you’re just sensitive. More so than the playmates I’ve been with. For them, sex isn’t as meaningful. They’re driven by their need for pleasure—the coterie instills that in them—and when they become companions, they don’t think twice about cementing their bonds with their Mistresses by impregnating them. But you …” Coralie dries Pet’s cheeks. “You value our relationship above and beyond your biological imperative, and I like that. It means I’m more to you than just a fertile uterus waiting to be filled.”
Pet giggles, amused and gladdened by the positive spin Coralie’s able to put on her misplaced anxiety, and equally by the notion that it’s possible for a Mistress to feel used by a companion. She’d never before considered that Mistresses might not be so impervious to bouts of low self-esteem, or that companions could be motivated enough by their own self-interest so as to reduce the act of procreation to little more than a strategic ploy intended to ensure loyalty.
But it makes sense. Once a companion sires a child and proves their potency, it’s virtually impossible for them to lose their place. A Mistress can’t cast aside her bond without good reason, and as soon as a companion shows that they’re capable of fulfilling their purpose, the bond is secured indefinitely. For most, that’s enough. Love is incidental, if it exists at all.
Still, despite Coralie’s attempt to allay her concerns, Pet remains in turmoil.
“We’re leaving for the next gathering tomorrow.” She picks at a chip in her nail polish, having twice refused Coralie’s attempts to remove the week-old color. “What will you tell them? This is our second moon already, and they’ll be expecting …”
“I know.” Coralie slides off the bed, retrieves polish remover and cotton balls from the adjoining bathroom, and returns with a purpose of her own. “I’ll tell them the truth.” She douses one of the cotton balls in the strong-smelling acetone. “There’s no shame in it.”
“They’ll laugh.” Pet sits on her hands, eluding Coralie’s efforts to snatch them up.
“So?” Coralie topples Pet over, straddling her belly and seizing one of her paws. “They laughed at me when I said I’d divine your true name during our first weekend together, and look how that turned out.”
“Please don’t.” Pet’s sorrow returns to her as the wet fluff ball touches her index finger.
“Why not? You’ve been fighting this for days.”
“No-one’s ever painted my nails before.” Pet admires the cracked purple on her other hand. “I like that you did.”
“And I will again.” Coralie leans forward to rub noses with her. “I just can’t have you looking like a ragamuffin tonight. You remember that we’re having people over?”
“Girls.” Pet nods. “Wannabes.”
Coralie laughs. “I think they prefer the term neophytes.”
“I don’t care what they are.” Pet pouts. “They’ll never be half as wonderful as you.”
“No?” Coralie starts work on a second nail.
“Not even a little bit. You’re the best Mistress any companion could have.”
“I’m glad you think so highly of me
.” Coralie temporarily abandons the cotton balls, pinning Pet’s arms to the bed above her head and kissing her. “You know I’m the black sheep of the High Council.”
“I don’t care what color sheep you are.” Pet moons up at her. “You’re beautiful.”
“So are you.” Coralie trails one hand down Pet’s body. “In all your forms.” She tiptoes her fingers over Pet’s mound, combing them through her pubic curls and working downward toward the slit. “I wish you’d let me show you.”
“I’m not what you want. Not like this.” Pet recoils, sweeping Coralie’s wandering hand away and refusing to accept the intimacy, just as she’d done during the last moon. “Don’t pretend.”
“What makes you think I’m pretending?” Coralie juts out her lower lip.
“I don’t have what you need.” Pet wriggles away, tucking herself into a ball. “I can’t please you when I’m this way.” She shields her loins with the duvet, one hand covering her groin for added protection. “Not completely.”
“Oh, yes you can.” Coralie giggles. “And I can please you in a whole lot of new ways, if only you’d allow me to.”
“That can’t be true.” Pet sniffles. “You like … the other thing.”
“I like penetration,” Coralie clarifies, “and you can still give me that if you want to.” She pulls a glass dildo out of a drawer in the bedside table and tosses it onto the bed. “But it’s this I’m attracted to.” She strokes Pet’s face. “And this.” She runs her hand over Pet’s chest, waist, and stomach. “My darling, I’m gay. You’re exactly what I want, no matter what you’ve got between your legs at any given moment.”
“What about when you … with your mouth? I thought you enjoyed that?”
“Are you talking about oral sex?” Coralie smirks devilishly. “To tell you the truth, the night we bonded was the first time I’d ever taken a priapus in my mouth. I never did that for any of the playmates I was with—I never had the inclination—but I wanted to do it for you.” She presses a kiss on Pet’s lips. “Trust me, it was about you, not your anatomy.”
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