It’s Fawn.
Doing her best to ignore the vicious glances thrown her way by her disgruntled former coterie favorite, Coralie smiles flirtatiously at Liora.
“Welcome to the table.” She adjusts the neckline of her black velvet dress. “I must say, I’d grown accustomed to that cute face of yours.” She dishes food onto Pet’s plate. “Admittedly, I’m used to seeing it buried between my legs, but I’m sure I’ll adjust.”
No sooner have the words left her lips than she feels a warm hand creep onto her lap. Covering that hand with her own, she looks down and gives Pet a furtive wink.
“Come here.” She holds her arms open, inviting Pet to rise up from her cushion and lean in for a cuddle. “Let me feed you.”
Keen to put on a display in front of the other Mistresses, Pet sprawls over Coralie’s lap, paws to thighs and cheek to breast. She accepts food from Coralie’s hand, and kisses from her lips at intervals, their closeness provoking Mistress Diana’s wrath.
“Your companion’s place is on the floor, not in your lap.”
“My companion’s place is as close to me as she can be,” Coralie replies sharply. “If she wishes to drape herself over my lap and nuzzle my breast, then so she shall.”
Tempting fate, Coralie inflames Diana further by feeding Pet from her own plate, and sharing a fork with her, no less.
“Enough!” Diana slams the butt of her knife down on the table, making several of the other Mistresses jump.
She grumbles something about proper conduct and returns to her food, while Pet sinks back to her cushion, retreating to a more appropriate position on the floor. On the way down, she notices that Fawn has disappeared from view, lying on her cushion instead of sitting on it.
Curious to know what Fawn’s doing down there, Pet drops lower and peers beneath the table, catching Fawn eyeing Coralie’s legs. Instinctively, she growls, warning Fawn off, but the signal of her displeasure has little noticeable effect.
Upon hearing it, however, Coralie touches a hand to Pet’s mane. “Pet.” She bends to kiss the top of her companion’s head, whispering, “You’ve nothing to be jealous of, my love.”
That seems to quiet things down for a moment, but halfway through the dessert course, Coralie squeals and giggles, feeling the delightful tickle of hands on her ankles.
“Pet!” She twists in her chair, expecting to find Pet with a mischievous grin, her wandering paws concealed by the tablecloth.
But Pet hasn’t moved an inch. She’s sitting on her cushion, both hands in view, perplexed by Coralie’s sudden burst of laughter. Realization doesn’t dawn until Coralie’s expression turns sour, her jaw clenched, a fleeting glimpse of anger passing across her eyes, then Pet dives back down to the floor, snarling beneath the table.
In response, Fawn—still encroaching far too close to Coralie for Pet’s liking—snorts derisively, meeting Pet at the center of the narrow passage.
“Suck my cock,” she barks in Pet’s ear.
Tableside, the sound of something hard smacking into the woodwork precedes a yelp and a scuffle of hands and feet.
“What in the gods names is going on down there?!” Diana bellows, directing her fury at Coralie. “Control your untethered companion!”
“Perhaps Mistress Liora ought to learn how to control hers!” Coralie slides her chair back and stands up, tossing her napkin onto her plate and stepping away from the table. “Come, Pet.”
She issues her command calmly but firmly, patting her outer thigh to convey her second instruction: Heel.
“Excuse us.” She starts toward the door, issuing her apology to no-one in particular. “We need to get some air. We’ll see you all in the drawing room after dinner.”
Catching up, Pet darts around her and opens the door for her, following her out into the hall, and from there, to the drawing room.
Uncharacteristically quiet, Coralie turns her back on Pet. She leans on a sideboard at the edge of the room, hiding her face, and takes a deep breath, shaking with restrained anger.
Thinking she’s simply too irate to speak, Pet sidles up to her, ready to grovel at her feet and beg forgiveness. Instead, she’s shocked and troubled to find tears spilling down Coralie’s face, afraid that she’s the cause.
“It’s not your fault, darling.” Coralie promptly allays her unease. “Everything’s fine.”
Pet would query that, if she could.
“It’s just that wretched—” Coralie stops herself and takes a deep breath, deciding against wasting her anger on Fawn. “You have no idea what she’s done, that’s all.” She stems the flow of her tears. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”
Pet taps her mouth, indicating she wants to talk, but Coralie shakes her head.
“Not here. I don’t want to be overheard.” She dabs at her eyes, careful not to smudge her eye makeup. “We’ll talk later, yes? I’ll tell you everything. I’ll answer all your questions.”
Never having seen Coralie cry, Pet is at a loss. Not knowing quite how to proceed in a situation such as this, she reaches up and touches a finger to Coralie’s mascara-coated eyelashes, displacing some tears there, mopping them up and restoring perfection.
For that, she receives a small smile, emboldening her to continue. So, she stands on her tippy toes and locks her mouth over Coralie’s, initiating a deep kiss, her hands on the older woman’s hips. Going further at the severe risk of chastisement, she then brings her mouth to Coralie’s ear, whispering gingerly …
“You’re so beautiful.”
Pulling back from her with a please-forgive-me face, Pet waits fearfully for her to make the next move, whether it be a slap to the face or a livid denunciation, but instead of a fierce reprimand, she gets passion.
Once Coralie recovers from the shock of hearing Pet speak without her consent, she kisses her timorous companion—first lovingly, then frantically. Groping and pulling on each other, they stagger through the room in a clumsy tangle of arms and legs, their lips locked together. In a frenzy, they tumble onto one of the couches, Pet landing squarely on top of Coralie, her priapus squashed between them.
Her stiff priapus.
Her eager priapus.
At the moment of impact, Coralie gasps, pleasantly surprised by Pet’s readiness, and she waits not a second in deciding what she wants from it.
“Let’s do it.” She grabs Pet’s belt, unbuckles her, unfastens her pants, and wrenches them down over her hips. “I want you in me.” She kicks off her stilettos and wraps her legs around Pet’s tiny waist. “Fuck me.” She directs Pet’s straining erection straight into her unclad cunt. “Give me a baby.”
Pet grabs her by the hips and lays hard into her. Any fears she has about being too rough are soon extinguished by the look of pure lust on Coralie’s face, so she plunges harder and faster, the tip of her augmentation kissing Coralie’s cervix on every upstroke, their bodies slamming together with unrelenting force.
Determined not to finish until she receives the go-ahead to do so, she clenches her teeth, emitting a guttural roar. She can feel an orgasm stirring in Coralie’s body, and amid her Mistress’s shivers, contractions, and continuous moans, she’s struggling to hold back her impending crisis, her shaft milked by the spasms of Coralie’s pulsing, throbbing sex.
“Come with me, Pet.” Coralie pulls her energetic young companion close. “Now,” she whispers. “Come now!”
Pet does as she’s told, collapsing on Coralie’s chest as she empties herself into the depths of her lover’s receptive womb. When it’s over, she makes a weak effort to pull out, her thighs like jelly, but Coralie objects.
“Wait.” She clamps her hands on Pet’s rear, holding her in place and preventing her withdrawal. “Give it time.” She keeps her pelvis tilted up, allaying the effects of gravity.
In the wake of their vigorous, impromptu fuck, noises in the hall signal the imminent arrival of the other Mistresses. Though Coralie would be happy to put on an exhibition and remain locked with Pet indefinitely
, Pet’s anatomy wilts inside her, unable to sustain itself under the looming threat of an audience.
“Are you ready, darling?” Coralie releases her grip on Pet’s rump. “Lick me clean.”
Keeping her dress hitched up around her hips, she swings her legs off the couch as Pet slides to her knees and lunges forward, lapping up her sex like a cat lapping at a bowl of cream, savoring every drop and purring all the while.
“I love you,” Coralie coos, scooping Pet’s dark reddish hair out of the way to get a better view of her bobbing head and bright eyes. “I love you so much.”
Done mopping up the spillage, Pet opens her mouth to reciprocate the sentiment, but stops herself; she doesn’t have permission.
“I know.” Coralie grabs her by the collar and pulls her in for a kiss, tasting their sex on her lips. “Now you might want to put that beautiful thing-um-bob of yours away.” She tugs Pet’s jeans up. “I don’t think the other Mistresses deserve to see it.”
Mortified, her cheeks on fire, Pet scrambles to get her jeans back on, tucking her wet priapus inside her clothing before the main door to the drawing room swings open and Mistress Diana and her companion walk through it, closely followed by the other Mistresses and their bonds.
“Couldn’t wait for the rest of us?” Mistress Diana takes a seat in a chair beside the fireplace, keeping her distance.
“No.” Coralie meets Fawn’s angry eyes across the room, relishing the opportunity to rub their union in her face. “I wanted her too much.”
Suddenly aware that every companion in the room is staring at her immodest Mistress, hoping for a peek, Pet fixes Coralie’s crumpled dress, wishing they could go back to bed. The air is thick with the musk of sex. Everyone knows what they did.
Oblivious to her self-consciousness, and happy beyond measure, Coralie keeps Pet on the floor between her thighs. “Is anyone else feeling exceptionally good this evening?”
Sirena plonks down on the couch beside her, champagne in hand. “Not me, but perhaps my mood could be improved if you lend me Pet for a few hours.”
“Envious?” Coralie steals the champagne from her and downs it.
“Exceptionally.” Sirena loosens the top of her blouse and hitches up her skirt, her arousal evident. “Would you like to watch?” she offers, directing Brat between her legs and demanding that she put mouth to cunt. “It’ll be just like old times. Brat’s missed you, and so have I.”
Coralie appears momentarily tempted, but her wandering mind is brought rapidly back to the present when Pet squeezes her thighs. Looking down, she finds her companion racked with anxiety, fidgeting uncomfortably, her brow creased. She knows that look well, and it has nothing to with any residual agitation Pet might be feeling about Brat.
“Do you have to pee?”
Pet nods urgently.
“All right.” Coralie searches for her shoes and excuses herself to Sirena. “Nature calls.”
She takes Pet by the hand and leads her out of the drawing room, escorting her down the hall to the washroom where they shared their first paroxysms together.
“Off you go.” She pats Pet’s bum. “I’ll wait here.”
Reluctantly leaving Coralie’s side, Pet tends to her full bladder. Passing the time until she returns, Coralie wanders through the front room, admiring the portraits. Many of the women—goddesses and Mistresses alike—have been painted with their bellies full and round, childbirth imminent. Feeling a faint twinge in her own abdomen, she rubs her belly, smiling to herself.
“Won’t be long now.”
Daydreaming about the future, she doesn’t hear the footsteps behind her. She has no idea there’s anyone else in the room until a pair of hands slips around her waist, giving a brief squeeze before tugging up her dress.
“Oh, Pet!” She bends forward over a side table. “You want more already?”
Parting her legs, she waits for the hot jab of Pet’s seemingly invincible augmentation, and takes a sharp draw of breath when both her arms are unexpectedly wrenched behind her and a hand on her back pins her down.
Caught off-guard—not sure if she should be frightened, aroused, or riled—her reaction is delayed. Turning her head and craning her neck, she manages to peep at Pet’s reflection in a mirror on the far wall, only … it’s not Pet.
It’s Fawn.
“Back the fuck off.” Coralie squirms, trying to free herself. “Have you lost your mind?!”
Fawn unfastens her belt.
“You can’t be serious?!” Coralie almost laughs. “Stop this!”
Fawn pulls her belt off.
“I’m a Mistress,” Coralie reminds her. “If you want to keep your collar, you have no choice but to follow the rules of this coven and obey my order.”
“She’s already obeying an order.” Mistress Liora stands in the doorway, watching everything unfold. “My order.”
Liora saunters into the room as Fawn binds Coralie’s wrists with the belt.
“To what end?” Coralie snarls. “You want a threesome? Is that it? You’ve got some way of asking.” She struggles fruitlessly. “And by the way”—she glares at her former friend—“the answer’s no.”
“You’re presuming you have a choice.” Liora steps up to her. “You don’t.”
“Care to tell me why?” Coralie winces, the leather pinching and scraping her skin.
“You hurt Fawn’s feelings.” Liora pouts. “You rejected her when you ascended. How do you think that made her feel? After all she’s done for you.”
Coralie rolls her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t play the innocent. You know as well as I do that Mistress Alessa’s little tumble down the stairs was no accident.” Liora leans near Coralie’s ear. “She had help.”
“Not from me.” Coralie huffs. “Fawn pushed her!”
“Exactly,” Liora asserts triumphantly, perplexed as to why Coralie isn’t gushing with gratitude. “She would’ve done anything for you, and you cast her aside.”
“Is that what you think?” Coralie grimaces. “You think I coerced Fawn to kill my aunt, then spurned her for Pet? You think I used her?” She shakes her head. “I would never have asked her to do something like that. Nor did I want her to.”
“Oh, spare me the moral outrage.” Liora laughs. “If you were truly upset by Fawn’s actions, you would’ve reported her to the High Council.”
“I couldn’t.” Coralie jerks in Fawn’s grasp. “I was the one who helped Fawn sneak out of the coterie in the middle of the night. I was the one who wanted to fuck on the High Council table. And I was standing right there when my aunt left her bedroom to look for me, and Fawn gave her a firm shove from the top step.” She chokes up. “How would that have looked?”
“It suited you to stay quiet.” Liora shows no sympathy for her. “Why can’t you just admit that? It’s the same reason you didn’t report the prussic acid you found in the kitchen the night before Mistress Isabelle died. You did find it, didn’t you? I went back for it, but it was gone.”
That takes a moment to sink in, cogs whirring in Coralie’s brain. “That was you? You poisoned Isabelle? How could you?! She was your mother!”
“Her death didn’t seem to bother you that much at the time.” Liora challenges the true depth of her indignation. “As I recall, it played into your hand rather well. How else would you have acquired your darling little Pet?”
“I would’ve found another way,” Coralie counters, her eyes tearing. “I was going to petition Diana after dinner. I was going to declare my affection for her and make a plea for her release. I was—”
“Save it.” Liora waves a dismissive hand. “I needed a seat at the table, and you wanted Pet. The way I see it, you’re my accomplice.”
Coralie shakes her head defiantly. “I had no idea who poisoned Isabelle’s wine.”
“But you did know it was poisoned, and you said nothing.” Liora smirks. “I’m sure you tell yourself you were thinking only of Pet’s wellbeing, but the
truth is, you wanted sex—like you always do—and the end justified the means.”
“Why are we here?” A tear tumbles down Coralie’s cheek. “Whatever this is, let’s just finish it. You want my silence? I think you know you already have that.”
“That’s not it.” Liora reaches over Coralie’s shoulder and fingers Fawn’s hair. “As you can see, Fawn and I became favorites after you ascended. I promised her that once I secured my seat on the High Council, not only would I choose her as my companion, but that I’d also make sure she had the chance to give you what you deserve.”
“Ha! So you want me dead?” Coralie sneers. “All because I took exception to the murder of my aunt instead of rewarding Fawn for her initiative.”
“Oh, lover, Fawn’s not going to kill you. She’s going to fuck you.”
“On a moon night?” Genuine horror creeps into Coralie’s voice.
“What’s the matter?” Liora feigns puzzlement. “You always wanted Fawn to sire you a child, didn’t you? Well, now she’s going to.”
“Don’t be absurd. I’m bonded to Pet.” Coralie tries and fails to wrest herself out of Fawn’s grip. “I want no-one’s child but hers.”
“Ah, yes. The perfect love you’ve been so recklessly flaunting,” Liora scoffs at her devotion. “How will she feel, I wonder, to watch your belly grow, filled with another companion’s spawn?”
A muted squeak in the doorway betrays Pet’s presence there, the terrified companion unable to intervene without a direct order to do so.
Coralie whips to face her. “Pet, c—”
Before Liora can snap at Fawn to shut Coralie up, Fawn’s hand is already covering her mouth, preventing her from giving Pet any instruction to assist. Despite that, Pet takes a bold step forward, her heart overriding her training …
“Oh, no.” Liora holds a hand up, stopping her. “You can stay right there, little one. I want you to watch Fawn pollute your dear Mistress.”
Bound and gagged, Coralie fights to get free, pain shooting through her cranium as she’s forced back over the side table, her head slammed onto the mahogany. On the verge of passing out, her vision clouded, the room spinning, she hears the zipper of Fawn’s pants followed by the sensation of a groping hand between her legs. Then … a thud.
Come, My Pet Page 12