by Joey W. Hill
Gen looked toward the house. Lyda had gone inside and left the door open, a screen door keeping out bugs. Gen could see her tossing her keys onto an entranceway table, unconcerned about when and how they might follow her.
She thought about walking from the truck in only her panties, bra and heels, like Lyda had described. She imagined Lyda walking next to her, fingertips trailing over the valley of Gen's spine. It gave her a shiver.
No. She wasn't ready for that tonight. Wasn't even sure how much of this submissive stuff she was into doing, outside of the structured club environment. It felt more real here, less like a game.
When Noah touched her back where she'd imagined Lyda touching her, she twitched. He had his clothes folded over one arm and extended the other with a reassuring look, offering his hand. "Like Hansel and Gretel," he teased her.
Going into the home of a powerful, scary witch. It wasn't entirely off the mark, though the danger of this one was in the desire to be eaten, not the fear of it. She gazed up into his face. He was relaxed. This was normal to him. Whereas she wondered if she was going to Crazytown, because she took his hand and felt a bit steadier from his firm clasp. But Lyda had made it clear all choices were hers, and so far she hadn't asked Gen to do anything she'd refuse. The desire for escape had passed, for now.
She was carrying her shoes, and Noah nudged her onto the stepping stones, keeping her out of the vegetation that might prick her feet. The slate still held some of the heat of the humid day. She heard the faint pops of bug zappers.
At the top of the steps, Noah opened the door for her. Thinking of what Lyda said about Noah working his ass off for the right to fuck Gen sent a ripple through her. She had a difficult time not staring at the heavy weight filling the charcoal-gray knit shorts.
Gen managed not to stumble over the threshold as Noah gestured her to precede him. Lyda leaned against the wall at the end of the hall, arms crossed beneath her breasts, one booted foot hooked over the opposite ankle. Her perusal made Gen feel as undressed as Noah. A female glancing at her in a dressing room was just curiosity. Are her thighs fat as mine? Lyda was evaluating her as a sexual being, someone from whom she intended to make sexual demands. The difference was astronomical.
Lyda took off the tunic covering her corset. The latex leggings molded her sex, the tantalizing crease between thigh and hip. As Gen watched, Lyda unfastened the first several hooks of the corset, exposing a deeper plunge between her breasts.
"You're not in the position I require when you enter my house."
She was talking to Noah, because he immediately dropped to one knee. He kept his grip on Gen's hand. Lyda's gaze remained cool, dispassionate. When she arched a slim brow, Gen wondered if she expected her to kneel.
That wasn't the scary thing. The scary thing was Gen had to lock her knees to keep herself from doing it. A big part of her wanted to tumble down that rabbit hole, see what adventures lay in wait for her.
This isn't me. Be cautious.
Better to be safe, even if it made her sorry.
Chapter Six
She'd been so close to doing it, her heart hammered in her throat as if she had. Did Noah feel it? His grip had tightened, his thumb sliding over her palm, a reassurance.
Lyda moved down the hall, her body sexual poetry in motion. "Eyes on the floor. Let go of her hand."
Gen alone had the pleasure of seeing the latex crease around Lyda's sex, the way her breasts quivered as she sauntered toward them. She had a thin silver chain wrapped around one hand.
"You knew to kneel when you first entered. You were being polite, trying not to make our guest feel self-conscious. But who do you obey, first and foremost?"
"You, Mistress." Noah's voice was respectful.
"Take off your underwear."
He did so, with more grace than Gen could have managed if she'd been on her knees the way he was. She saw a bare haunch emerge, the seam of his buttocks. When he sat back, she bit back a surprised noise. His cock was locked in a curved, form-fitting metal sheath. His testicles were swollen beneath its steel collar.
She'd thought he'd been erect tonight, and instead it had been the frame of that chastity cage. When he'd been stroking himself, he'd been gripping that sheath, the entire purpose to titillate Gen's senses. But God... He'd said the pain of getting hard in such a device kept the cock from getting erect, but in that environment, saturated in sex...God, performing oral sex on Gen... Lyda was a sadist.
Lyda let the chain unwind from her hand, dangling a key in front of him. "You may release yourself, now that I know your cock will only be getting stiff from what I do to it. Or what I allow Gen to do to it."
"Yes Mistress." When she dropped the key to the floor in front of him, he unlocked a small padlock that rested in the valley provided by his testicles. Gen watched, fascinated, as he parted the two pieces of the sheath. There'd been a thin steel rod inserted into the slit, about an inch long. Jesus.
The tip had milky-white pre-cum collected around it. Even as he removed it, blood was starting to fill his cock. It was clear the organ would soon be standing proud between his thighs. Wearing it only restricted his physical state of arousal, not the mental one.
"As soon as the beast is out of the cage, it's ready to play." When Lyda caressed his hair, he pressed his temple to her thigh, brushing his lips there. "Let's see if you've been as good as you're supposed to be." She crooned it, but Gen saw the measuring look in her eyes. Squatting, Lyda clasped his cock in a functional grip, probed the slit. Muscles rippled across his back, his body tightening at the stimulation. "Good boy. You didn't wear it too long."
She looked at Gen. "He earned himself a severe punishment the night it started to hurt and he didn't tell me. Taking care of his cock so I have use of it whenever I wish is an important priority for a male sub."
"What did you do to him?" Having this conversation while Noah kept silent, his eyes down, was odd, but Gen was too curious not to ask. Lyda's hand remained on his neck as she rose, thumb tapping his main artery in an idle caress that had his fingers curling and uncurling on his thighs.
"I shamed him by doing the cleanings and flushings myself. He took the prescribed antibiotics from my hand. On top of that, he was allowed to do nothing for me, as his Mistress, for a week. If I couldn't trust him to care for something as precious to me as his dick, I couldn't trust him to care for me. It did the trick. For now."
Noah's cheeks had a dull flush from that exchange. Gen noticed a flex of his jaw muscle. Lyda saw it too. "You have something to say, Noah?" she said sharply.
"No Mistress."
"Hmm. Gen, are you hungry?"
"A little."
"Noah, go fix us a snack and a drink. Something with carbs and protein. Gen will need her energy and so will you. Bring it to us in the living room."
Taking Gen's hand, Lyda turned and moved up the hallway, leaving Noah there. Gen heard the sound of him rising, his bare feet padding behind them. She wanted to look back, but Lyda kept a brisk pace. As they passed the kitchen, Gen glimpsed an open space with gleaming pots and pans.
The living room had designer furniture and beautiful, bold prints of exotic plants. A flat screen TV was mounted on the wall. Lyda took a seat on the sofa, propping an arm on the back of the couch, her legs curled up beneath her. She patted the cushion in front of her. "Facing me, one leg bent on the seat cushion in front of you, the sole of your foot against your opposite knee, forming a triangle. Other foot on the floor."
The position stretched the thin crotch of Gen's panties over her plump sex. It was clear from Lyda's appreciative glance that the short skirt revealed it. "You blush when I look at your pussy. It's charming. Noah only blushes if I embarrass him."
"Why did you? Just now. All of it seemed...mean."
"Remember what I said about Noah needing the more heavy-handed methods? The cock sheath might seem cruel, but it's part of what he craves, Gen. A good Domme never does what a sub doesn't truly, deeply want." Lyda pursed her lips. "A
s far as telling you about the infection, a submissive's top priority is self-care. There's no failure a good Mistress punishes more harshly and, with a sub like Noah, you have to remind him, over and over. He's an excessive nurturer, to the point he could be mistaken for a Dom. His form of submission is like an ocean wave, holding you down. Which makes him an excellent partner to work with a Mistress. It also makes him insanely indifferent to himself."
She paused, as if she'd say more, but then she shook her head. "Tonight is not about that."
She reached out, stroked Gen's hair some more, but when Gen began to lift her own hand to return the favor, Lyda's look stilled her. "Hands stay at your sides, Gen."
"I don't get to touch you?"
"Not unless I give permission."
That had been easier to accept in the club environment. Here, she found herself more uncomfortable with the messages being sent. Toward her, Noah. "Why is that?"
"Because I said so." Humor flitted through Lyda's gaze at the parental dictate, even as her expression remained set, telling Gen that the teasing didn't change her orders. "As children, we may resent hearing that, but it shuts down the argument, makes us focus on simple obedience. It's a reminder of structure and boundaries, of who holds the reins. At its root, it's a feeling of security."
"Do I seem like someone who needs that?"
"You tell me." Those silver eyes pinned her. "There's a part of you that's thinking you should pull back, tell me to get over myself. You're telling yourself you need to do something to reestablish us as equals. But another part of you wants to submit, and the why of that has you confused.
"There are submissives who need to resist to achieve that sense of security, and they'll challenge a Dom more or less to get it. Then there are those who'll play for the fun and novelty of it, but when you tap into the deeper levels, they simply draw away, a clear message that true submission, that craving, isn't their thing."
Gen wet her lips. "How do you tell the difference?"
"Practice. Intuition. Trial and error. This is a consensual game, Gen. No matter what I do to you, you can end it with a single word. We call it a safeword. However, I always rely on unconscious signals first and foremost, because they're more truthful, and often come into play long before the safeword."
"You think I'm a submissive, not just someone indulging a sexual adventure."
"Being a submissive is a wide, wide range. At this point, I'd rather not slap a label on you, and not just because it would spook you. I think it would limit us both. Whatever you are...it's interesting." One of those slim brows arched. "The fact you did what you did at the club, and how you respond to soft commands, like keeping your hands at your sides now, tells me you want to explore this more yourself."
It was hard to argue with that. But since she seemed amenable to questions, Gen had plenty. "Say all that's true tomorrow. How does this work going forward? Do we set up appointments...dates? Is it a relationship or like going to a carnival every once in a while?" Realizing she might sound like a clingy first date, she added, awkwardly, "This isn't my world. I don't know how it works."
"I wouldn't say it's not your world. It's not a world you've chosen to enter until now." Lyda lifted a hand, ticking off points on her fingers. "Your boss is a very strong female Dominant, but you defer to her on a personal level as well as a professional one. Are you friends?"
When Gen hesitated over it, Lyda nodded. "The question gives you pause because yes, she is a friend, but there's something more there too. Like family, but not. She provides a certain direction to your life, a stability to your core, that you've never examined all that closely."
Lyda slid her fingertips over Gen's knee, a stroke that sent the nerve endings around it rippling. Then she resumed her count. "Your best friend chose a man fully immersed in the Dom/sub world for her husband. You took Noah into your home for the weekend, and when you learned what he was, you took steps toward exploring the limits of that. In the shallow end, yes, but you did. And tonight, you surrendered yourself to me publicly, almost without hesitation."
"It was the environment. When in Rome..." Gen trailed off before that keen glance, one that brooked no lying. Jesus, just like Marguerite. "But I have no idea what I'm doing or why I'm doing it. That's not like me. I don't like uncertainty."
"This is entirely different from anything you've ever done, but don't assume it's alien, Gen. Haven't you ever visited a new place that, for reasons you can't explain, feels familiar?"
"Sounds like what cult leaders say."
Lyda chuckled at that, but it wasn't cynical or mocking. She sounded appreciative of Gen's humor. The sultry note was also very distracting. Gen found herself wanting to lay a hand on her throat, feel the vibration of it. Lyda had a beautiful neck, coaxing the fingertips to stroke the lines of it, follow that slope to the generous breasts. She was obviously not going to have clear thoughts about any of this until she was well out of range of Noah or Lyda.
Resigned to that, she shifted the topic to Lyda herself. "Was that how it worked for you? I mean...you weren't born with cuffs in one hand, a whip in the other, right?"
The lines around Lyda's eyes crinkled. "No. But as I told you in the car, stories about me will come another time."
The woman slid her nails under Gen's bra strap, caressing her collarbone, then dipped to the upper rise of her breast. Gen's skin rose in gooseflesh beneath the touch, and she drew in a breath as Lyda pushed deeper into the cup, her finger playing over her nipple as it hardened. Gen tried not to squirm on the couch in response. Her attention went back to Lyda's breasts, those few undone hooks of the corset revealing a tempting, shadowed valley.
"What are you thinking, Gen?"
"I find you...very attractive." What a stupid thing to say. Lyda probably heard things like that all the time. Was she really playing teenage mind games, trying to figure out the cool thing to say? Was she regressing that badly? Just be an adult and say what you mean. "I haven't ever been attracted to a woman like this. Not past the casual fantasy level."
"Then I'm flattered I've won your attention. Take off your bra, Gen."
No matter what conflicting thoughts were going through Gen's head, Lyda was right about one thing. Something about all of this worked for Gen. Maybe it wouldn't tomorrow. Maybe she'd think she'd lost her mind, but tonight, when Lyda spoke, she wanted to obey. Unhooking the bra beneath the dress, she slid the straps out the sleeves, pulled the whole garment free. At Lyda's nod, she folded it neatly and laid it on the coffee table.
Lyda straightened on the couch, putting both feet on the floor. "Stand up in front of me. Don't be worried, Gen."
When Gen complied, Lyda cupped her hands around Gen's breasts, exploring their weight and shape through the thin dress fabric. She kneaded them gently, stroked her thumbs over them. She didn't touch the nipples, even though Gen could see as well as Lyda how stiff they were, begging for the contact. Instead, Lyda dropped her hold to Gen's hips and brought her close enough her legs touched Lyda's knees. "Spread your legs so they're wider than my feet."
She did, and Lyda slipped a hand between Gen's legs, up under the short skirt. When her knuckles slid over Gen's labia, teasing her clit, Gen swayed in reaction. Lyda's other hand tightened on her hip. "Put your hand on my shoulder."
She'd take any excuse to touch the woman, and this one allowed her to twine her fingers in the silky hair that had fallen forward on the shoulder Lyda had bared. She had silky skin as well. When Gen inhaled, she got a faint whiff of perfumed powder. Gen drew in a breath as Lyda inserted a finger beneath the panties and pushed up inside her pussy. When the muscles contracted in response, Lyda let out a pleased hum. "Nice and wet."
Gen heard her pussy make a sucking sound on Lyda's fingers as she explored. She had no time to be embarrassed over that, because whatever else she did made Gen bite back a moan.
"Keep your other hand at your side, unless I direct you otherwise. You hold onto my shoulder with the one hand, I'll keep you steady with th
e other one. You're safe with me, Gen. Do you understand?"
She didn't understand it, but she certainly felt it in this moment. Her uneasiness about that wasn't strong enough to make Gen want to stop what was happening.
"You said you haven't really taken it past the fantasy stage." Lyda asked the casual question as her hand stayed busy. "So you've never had sex with a woman, Gen? Played with one during your teenage years?"
Gen shook her head. "A little experimenting in high school. The usual stuff. Mostly fantasy, though."
"Did you ever think about taking it past the fantasy stage?"
"Right now." Gen's throat was dry. "A lot."
Lyda's expression was capable of making Gen's cunt suck harder on her hand. She wanted that mouth on her. Her fingers tightened on Lyda's shoulder, her body yearning forward.
The woman made a pleased murmur. "You're hot for it right now, that's for certain. When you were fantasizing about it before, did you think about taking it further then?"
"No. I kept it at fantasies. I figured that was normal for most straight women."
"Straight and gay are relative terms on a normal day, but especially when it comes to Dominant and submissive behavior." Lyda took her hand away from Gen's hip to slip another several hooks. It opened the corset enough that she could fold it back, the stiff cloth holding it in that position to reveal a full, blue-veined, pale-skinned breast with a deep-mauve areola and nipple.
"Would you like to put your mouth on me here, Gen?"
Gen's mouth was too dry to swallow. Lyda gave her a sharper look. "For some things, I'll take a nonverbal response. Not for this. Ask me for what you want."
"I want to suck...put my mouth on you. Please."