Come, My Pet

by Keira Michelle Telford

  “You stay here and wait for me.” She moans into another lip-lock, finding it difficult to tear herself away. “I’ll be back soon.” She sucks Pet’s lower lip into her mouth. “You’ll be okay by yourself?” One more kiss. “I hate leaving you alone.”

  She can tell something’s wrong—Pet’s kisses are weak—but she doesn’t press. She has to get back to the High Council chamber, and Pet doesn’t look as though she’s in the mood to talk. So, with some reluctance, she pecks Pet’s forehead and leaves her to her own devices, proceeding then to spend the next several hours unable to hold a single thought without concern for her young companion seeping in.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  At the close of the High Council session, when the Mistresses are finally released to prepare for dinner, Coralie practically flies up to the stairs to Pet. In the mood for a few stolen moments of intimacy before getting zipped into the brand new evening dress she let Pet pick out for her last week, she breezes into the bedroom and kicks off her stilettos, hoping to find her young lover restored. Sadly, that’s not to be the case.

  “Are you hungry, Pet?” She strips to her underwear. “I’m starving, and I can’t wait to—” She stops herself.

  Pet’s lying in bed, sobbing hysterically, the duvet bunched around her heaving shoulders.

  “Oh, my darling.” Coralie crawls onto the four-poster. “Don’t be so upset.” She extends a hand to the quivering bundle of pink flesh before her. “Whatever’s wrong? Talk to me.”

  Pet sniffles and chokes, having worked herself up into a blubbering, slobbery mess incapable of speech or coherent thought.

  “I’m here now.” Coralie kisses her hair, soothing her. “Tell me what troubles you.”

  Fearing the worst about Coralie’s true feelings for her—or the lack thereof—and having had plenty of time to stew on it since being pulled out of the parlor, Pet lays her heart bare, hoping to hear something reassuring in return.

  “I love you,” she croaks, trying to get her tears under control, the confession setting off another pitiful wail.

  Compounding her misery, nothing comforting is immediately forthcoming, and in the protracted silence that follows, she grows fearful, her breathing abated until she feels Coralie’s warm body spoon up behind her.

  “I love you, Pet.” Coralie slips an arm around her waist. “More than anything.” She wriggles under the duvet, discovering that Pet’s not wearing any pants. “Were you afraid that I didn’t? Is that what this is about?”

  Pet mumbles something unintelligible.

  “Sweetheart, I’ve loved you since the first time we kissed.” Coralie hooks her leg over Pet’s hip, molding their bodies together. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “My precious darling, you’ve been so overwhelmed by everything. The first night I took you home, you cried for two hours because I invited you to sit on the sofa. The following morning, we showered together for the first time and you came all over me as I soaped your cute little body.”

  “I got it in your eye.” Pet pulls a face, remembering the incident well.

  “Accidents happen.” Coralie laughs. “The point is, I couldn’t tell you I loved you. You weren’t ready to hear it, and I didn’t want you to feel obligated to return the sentiment, or feel bad because you couldn’t.” She holds Pet to her chest. “Now, let’s get to the bottom of all these silly tears. What happened in the parlor? Did the other companions say something to set this off? Did they upset you?”

  Pet snivels into her pillow. “I met Fawn.”

  “She’s the one who made you feel this way?” Coralie infers. “I should’ve guessed.”

  “She told me she was your favorite.” Pet wipes her nose on her sleeve and rolls onto her back, looking up at Coralie. “Why didn’t you choose her when you ascended?”

  “A few reasons.” Coralie dries Pet’s teary face. “The most relevant of which is lying in this bed with me right now.” She gives her lover a soft kiss. “So was that the only thing bothering you? Or dare I ask, is there more?”

  Pet shrugs. “Is it true that you had all the playmates?” She looks sheepish. “And … together? Like, at the same time.”

  “I wish I could say no.” Coralie draws Pet to her bosom. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want to share you.” Pet weeps into her cleavage, soaking her bra.

  “You don’t have to.” Coralie cradles her, rocking her back and forth. “Ever.”

  “You don’t miss the coterie?”

  “Not even a teensy weensy little bit.” Coralie lifts Pet’s head up. “You satisfy my every desire. Making love to you feels more incredible than I ever could’ve imagined.”

  “You’re being kind.” Pet takes the compliment with a grain of salt. “Sometimes, I’m not so good.” She sighs forlornly. “I know I’m not, but I can’t help it. You feel so amazing, and when I’m in you, I just …”

  “Sshhh.” Coralie grins. “We’ve been together less than two months. If you didn’t get a tad over-excited every now and then, I think I’d be a little insulted.”

  Pet attempts a small laugh, her lingering despondency soon erasing it.

  “Do you like being a companion, Pet?” Coralie digs deeper into her insecurities. “Being my companion especially?”

  “I love you.” Pet’s hand finds Coralie’s stockinged leg beneath the covers. “Of course I like being your companion. Why would you ask me that?”

  “I see a look in your eyes sometimes.” Coralie studies her face, captivated by her beautiful, bright irises. “You seem so afraid. Does it still intimidate you to be with me?”

  “I’ve never done this before.” Pet bites back another flood of tears. “Until you, I never knew what it was like to be touched or kissed. I’d never—”

  “Wait,” Coralie cuts her off. “Mistress Isabelle didn’t even kiss you?”

  Pet snorts. “The only part of me Mistress Isabelle had any interest in was my thing-um-bob, and I think she’d have liked that much better if it’d been attached to a man. There was no kissing, no caressing, and when she wanted me to touch her, she always closed her eyes. She was as much repulsed by me as I was by her.”

  “Huh.” Coralie mulls on that. “No wonder she was so miserable all the time. If that was her problem all along, she should’ve chosen a coven that was better suited to her particular proclivities. We don’t care for men. Hence the need for this.” She wraps her hand around Pet’s soft priapus.

  “Maybe she didn’t have a choice,” Pet contends. “I know I didn’t.”

  Coralie’s brow creases. “How old were you when you were groomed for the coterie?”

  “Twelve.”

  “So young.” She cups Pet’s peachy face. “That’s not how things are usually done. You were just a little girl. Most are older, and they’ve already established their sexual identities. They want this life, but you were practically raised for it. Your parents consented to this?”

  “I never had any,” Pet discloses casually, the pain dulled by the passage of time. “I was found in an orphanage. When they got sick of me, the coven took me. No questions asked.”

  “Siblings?”

  Pet shakes her head. “I never had anyone. The coven took me, put this on me”—she loops a finger through the ring on her collar—“and gave me the thing-um-bob. They told me I would serve a Mistress one day, and that my purpose was to breed.”

  “Oh, my love.” Coralie’s heart breaks for her. “What about men?”

  “What about them?” Pet screws up her face.

  “Well, are you gay?” Coralie asks flatly. “Do you even know?”

  “What difference does it make? Do you doubt that I want to be with you?” If Pet had any tears left to cry, they’d be streaming down her cheeks. “I’ve never met anyone like you. I feel so safe with you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  “But—”

  “What is there but?” Pet scowls indignantly at
her.

  “I don’t know.” Coralie shrugs. “I suppose I’d just like to be sure that, given the choice, you’d still choose this life over one free from the coven.”

  “I would now,” Pet assures her. “But I don’t think my purpose is to breed.” She pauses, thinking of all the changes that have taken place in her life over the last few weeks. “I believed that for a long time, but I don’t think it’s so true anymore.”

  “No?” Coralie tries and fails to hide her concern. “I thought last night you said—”

  “Let me finish.” Pet plants a kiss on her worried lips, grinning. “I think now that my purpose is to love you.”

  Tears well in Coralie’s eyes. “You know, I was taught that it shows great weakness to demonstrate genuine affection for one’s companion. Among the Mistresses, power and strength is linked directly to fertility. The more children I bear, the more I shall be respected, and in that process, companions are intended to be a means to an end.”

  Some of Pet’s insecurity returns, but Coralie swiftly quashes it.

  “I never felt that way.” She unbuttons Pet’s snot-smeared shirt. “I want so desperately to sit at the head of the High Council table, but not alone.” She reaches the bottom of the shirt and tugs it open. “I’ve never wanted to live my life void of love, or passion, or tenderness.” Her hands roam over Pet’s body. “I’ve always wanted a companion—a real companion—and I have that with you, Pet. None of this means anything without you.” She sits up, grabbing Pet’s open shirt and pulling her into a kiss. “I love you.” She slips the shirt off Pet’s shoulders. “We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  Pet wriggles out of her clothing and throws it to the floor, diving back to Coralie’s lips with renewed fervor. Lying breast to breast with her paramour, she draws Coralie’s leg over her hip, their tongues and limbs entwined, their bodies rocking together.

  Breaking for air, Coralie picks Pet’s hand off her waist and puts it on her breast. “Are you thirsty?” She unhooks her bra. “Want something to drink?”

  Pet’s priapus rises.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Coralie giggles, casting off her lingerie. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” She massages her virgin breast, her other nipple still sore. “I’m aching for you.” She teases out a drop of milk. “Come to me.”

  She guides Pet to her breast, murmuring softly when Pet’s mouth engulfs her nipple, and again when Pet’s erection slips between her thighs, sliding along her cleft.

  The dual stimulation is unparalleled. Between Pet’s vigorous manipulation of her breast—tugging, sucking, biting, squeezing—and the continuous, rhythmic humping of Pet’s turgid anatomy, she climaxes in under five minutes.

  “Mmm, darling.” Coralie breaks Pet’s suction and holds her off. “Maybe we should stop before we get too carried away. You’re making me so wet.”

  “I’m leaking, too.” Pet directs her gaze down, showing her a slimy bridge of milky fluid connecting their bodies. “Anyway, I don’t want to stop.” She rolls on top of Coralie, resuming her gentle humping.

  “But we can’t.” Coralie whimpers, staring out the window. “The moon is already up.”

  Pet’s stiffness probes between her labia, kept at bay only by the thin, gauzy strip of sodden fabric that’s masquerading as the gusset of her knickers.

  “I know.” Pet strips off the undies, tearing them down Coralie’s long legs.

  Thinking this is much too good to be true, Coralie thrusts out her hand, grabbing Pet’s rigid, in-no-way-deflating priapus, finding it not just rock hard, but also far more swollen than she’s ever felt it before.

  “Gods, how big are you?!” She pushes on Pet’s chest, forcing her upright so that she can get a better look at the monster she’s about to be impaled with. “You’re huge!”

  “I don’t know why it’s like that.” Pet frowns at her turgid anatomy.

  “I do.” Coralie is glowing. “It’s the moon.”

  “Will it even fit?” Pet nestles the engorged purple head in Coralie’s tiny slit. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” Coralie watches it push at the entrance to her body. “I promise.”

  Putting her faith in Coralie’s assessment of the task at hand, Pet forces herself in. She pops the crown through and stretches Coralie open, generating a drawn-out, voluptuous moan.

  “I’ve never been so filled.” Coralie gasps, tilting her pelvis to better accommodate Pet’s invasion of her body. “You’re divine.”

  Once the enormous head is safely inserted, Pet feeds her another few inches, watching her face for any trace of discomfort. “Is it too much?” She holds back.

  “No.” Coralie grabs her bum, urging her deeper. “I want it all.”

  Pet advances another inch, finding that there’s one distinct drawback to her enhanced size: they fit together much too snugly. As she slides fully into Coralie’s heat, hilting herself in a single stroke, the sensations become too intense. It’s like her first time all over again, and it isn’t long before the inevitable pressure boils in her abdomen.

  “I’m sorry,” she rasps, rapidly losing control. “I can’t last.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” Coralie groans every time Pet hits bottom, feeling as though she’s being lanced by a hot steel rod. “Come for me.”

  Upon hearing those words, Pet’s training causes her to erupt into Coralie’s fertile womb. Her body shaking, she comes so hard she forgets to breathe, her head spinning and her heart pounding. And that’s not all she has to offer. She withdraws halfway, confirming that she’s lost none of her length and girth, her ability to perform not in the least bit reduced by her orgasm.

  “Keep giving it to me,” Coralie encourages her, reading her mind. “As many times as you can, for as long as you can.”

  That turns out to be quite the request. Pet starts moving again, and the second time around, she lasts for a full ten minutes. The third time, it’s twenty. For the fourth, she makes it to thirty and takes Coralie in every position she can think of, and for the finale—the fifth and final round—she goes for almost an hour. Her last ejaculation isn’t nearly as powerful as the first, but the moment shared between them is no less passionate.

  Both thoroughly exhausted, Pet’s augmentation finally softening, they uncouple for the last time and Coralie flops onto her back, breathing hard.

  “Wow.” She snuggles closer to Pet. “Just … wow.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Pet pants, her priapus sore, raw from the friction.

  “Nothing’s wrong with you, darling.” Coralie nurses her aching cunt. “Your body’s just trying to make sure we have the best chance of conceiving. It’s perfectly natural.” She reconsiders that. “Well, I mean, it might not exactly be natural, but it’s completely normal for a companion.” She reaches out to hold Pet’s hand. “Until now, I’d never had sex on a moon night—it was forbidden—but I knew it was bound to be exceptional.”

  “I did okay?” Pet wipes her deflating, still dripping anatomy on the duvet, wincing as the fabric grates her hyper-sensitive skin like sandpaper.

  “You did brilliantly.” Coralie sweeps her hand lightly over Pet’s aching crotch, relieving the discomfort in her tender loins. “But as much as I would love to lie here with you and marinate in your virility, we really must get dressed, else we’ll be late for dinner.”

  Pet tries to move, but her legs are like jelly. “How long before I can please you again?” she wonders aloud, her mind already leaping ahead to their next bout of epic lovemaking.

  “Not long.” Coralie swoons over her, so pleased with this sudden turn around. “We’ll get some food in you, and you’ll be restored in no time.”

  “And how long before I’ll be able to feel my toes?” Pet wiggles her feet.

  Giggling, Coralie reaches over and presses her palm to Pet’s middle, sending a jolt of energy through every cell in her body, returning normal sensation to her limbs and alleviating the
inflammation in her overworked muscles.

  “I wish I could do what you do.” Pet mewls, simultaneous heat and chills bombarding her senses. “Do all the Mistresses have your touch?”

  Coralie shakes her head. “Every Mistress has a unique gift. It first presents when we blossom, and grows stronger year by year.”

  “Blossom?”

  “Come of age,” she explains. “We’re all born the same way, with latent magic.” She whispers her fingertips over Pet’s lily white skin. “I can’t change who I am. I was destined for this life from the time I was conceived, but you weren’t. You could still be a normal eighteen-year-old girl … if you wanted to be.”

  “How?” Pet wraps her hand around her collared neck. “Not with this.”

  “No, but your collar could be stripped,” Coralie enlightens her. “It’s possible. There are many ways you could violate coven law, and the punishment would be automatic.”

  “Then I wouldn’t be your companion anymore.” Pet turns forlorn.

  “I’d still love you.” Coralie smiles sadly. “The collar is symbolic of our commitment to one another, but it has no influence over my heart. That’s not magic, it’s real.”

  “But we wouldn’t be together.” Tears pool in Pet’s eyes.

  Coralie shakes her head. “For as long as I’m fertile, I’m obligated to take a companion.”

  “So what’d happen to me?” Pet’s chest tightens, anxiety creeping in. “Where would I go? Would I ever see you again?”

  Coralie’s silence says it all.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  For all their best efforts to arrive at the dinner table on time, Coralie and Pet are still the last pair to take their places in the dining room of the High Council, settling in opposite the seat formerly occupied by Mistress Isabelle.

  Of course, that chair wasn’t vacant for long. Replacing Pet’s boozy former bond is a young, redheaded Mistress who’s no stranger to Coralie. Ascended early by virtue of her bloodline—as Coralie did when her aunt Alessa died—Mistress Liora already has a bonded companion by her side.