by Joey W. Hill
Lyda's eyes glittered, her mouth firming. "Already jumping ahead in your mind, aren't you? You're going to need to be on your knees, aren't you?"
They weakened immediately, her body already telling her it wasn't going to listen to any rational arguments against this.
Lyda slid her hand free and used both hands to ease Gen back and down to her knees, widening her own to give her the ability to shift closer. "Hands still at your sides," she reminded her. "Mouth only. And get rid of the panties."
Gen bit back a protest, because her fingers were itching to touch Lyda's curves. But the denial added a sweet bolt of longing to her core. As expected, Gen couldn't remove her underwear as smoothly in a kneeling position as Noah, but she managed it under that molten stare, setting them aside. When she moistened her lips, anticipating what would happen next, Lyda didn't make her wait long.
Cupping Gen's head, Lyda brought her forward again, her other arm sliding around her shoulders, gathering her in. "Put your mouth on me, Gen. Suck my nipple. Show me if you know how to give me pleasure."
Gen parted her lips. She was barely breathing as she made contact. It felt the way her own nipple felt, crinkled roughness and soft both. She explored, sliding her tongue around it, then opened her mouth wider, wanting to taste the pale flesh beyond. She traced several of those blue veins with her tongue, then returned to the nipple and took a stronger suck on it. Lyda made a noise...pleasure. She was giving a Mistress pleasure. Her Mistress, for tonight.
Lyda molded her hand over the back of Gen's skull. Gen wanted to put both her arms around Lyda's waist and hips. Wanted to let her fingers slide over latex and feel just how tight it was molded to Lyda's ass. She couldn't be wearing anything under it.
Her hands had moved before she realized it. Lyda closed her hands around her wrists and spoke. "Noah."
Gen hadn't heard him come in, but his hands were on her shoulders, sliding down her biceps, drawing her arms back. He held her by the elbows with gentle strength, kneeling behind her as Gen continued to suckle Lyda's right breast. His rigid cock pressed against her buttock, the inside of his thigh against her hip. Her elbows brushed his upper abdomen. His scent mingled with Lyda's, and Gen had that curious sense of being surrounded by both of them again, in a very good way.
She also noticed being restrained increased her fervency, as if she was trying to prove she could give Lyda more pleasure if she gave her more freedom. Lyda's knee pressed against her other side. However, she threaded her other leg between Gen's and probably Noah's behind her. At first the leg was straight so it made no contact, but then Lyda bent it so her thigh pressed against Gen's cunt beneath the dress. Gen moaned outright this time, her lips against Lyda's flesh. Lyda's fingers tangled in her hair, tugging at her scalp in a rhythm that matched the flex of her leg muscles, both suggesting lovely, rocking sex.
She thought about what would happen if Lyda pushed Gen's face down between her legs, let her pleasure her cunt beneath the tight hold of the latex. Gen's pussy convulsed at the thought, the reaction turning into thick liquid rolling down her thigh. It would pool against Lyda's leg, dampen the latex.
"Ease back now. There you go." Lyda broke the contact, nails whispering against Gen's throat before she pushed her back into Noah's embrace. He slid his hands around Gen's waist, bringing her full against him, both of them facing Lyda.
She gazed up at Lyda, who'd risen and circled behind the couch. She folded the corset back in place, but she didn't rehook it. "I'm going to go get changed. Then I want to do a little pre-bedtime reading. Noah, feed Gen her snack. Afterward, I want the two of you lying on the floor there."
She pointed one elegant finger toward the rug laid out before the fireplace. The fire screen was stained glass, showing a tulip against multi-colored green shards. "Legs scissored together, both of you on your sides. Get comfortable, because I won't be permitting you any movement until I command it. I'll be back in a moment."
She disappeared down a hallway. Noah shifted next to Gen, putting his back against the sofa. When she collected herself enough to drag her gaze from the hallway, he was studying her unbound breasts beneath the filmy dress fabric.
"I like this look," he said.
Rallying, Gen gave his naked body a similar once over. "Same goes."
He was beautiful, all firm muscle and tanned skin. And he had a really nice cock, thick and ready to perform, the testicles a dark-plum color beneath. Her fingers got that itchy feeling again, wanting to cup and stroke. It was pretty clear the conditions tonight were not the same as when he'd been at her house. But did that restrain her? The rules were only there if she chose to accept them. If she didn't, then...
She walked her fingers up the inside of his thigh. He watched her, those dark eyes not discouraging her, but not encouraging either. He was letting her figure it out. His cock jumped, though, telling her she had its vote. Curling her fingers around the shaft, she pressed a thumb over the slit, feeling the arousal there. She brought that fluid to her lips, tasted him.
"Let's get you fed," he said. She was happy to hear an unsteady note in his voice.
She noticed then he'd placed a plate on the coffee table behind her. It contained a sandwich and chips. Next to it was a glass of soda, as well as a glass of water. He'd quartered the sandwich. Picking up a piece, he extended it toward her mouth.
Gen drew back, settling on her heels. "I can feed myself."
"She said to feed you." He cocked his head, his hair sliding forward over his shoulder. "It helps to stay in the zone, so to speak. If that's where you'd like to be."
"They immerse you in the commands, make you rely on their direction, and brainwash you so it's all about pleasure, not questions."
Noah didn't seem offended. If anything, he seemed to ponder it. "It's not really brainwashing. Wouldn't most of us like a safe way to leave all questions behind, not have to worry about anything, and just feel pleasure? In a good way?" He met her gaze. "It's all a choice. If you prefer to feed yourself, you can do that."
Gen looked at the quartered sandwich in his hand, the rest on the plate. It was one thing to follow sexual commands. But being fed like a child...it didn't appeal to her.
"Can I try something different?"
"You can do anything you want," he responded with that smile that made her want to do all sorts of things to him.
Taking the sandwich from his hand, she offered it to him. He took a bite, keeping his eyes on hers as he chewed, swallowed. She had to admit, it gave her a peculiar thrill, having him accept the food from her hand. She took a bite of the sandwich for herself and then did it again, choosing to alternate between feeding him and herself. She handed the next quarter of the sandwich to him. "Okay, I'll give it a try."
It was arousing, though not for the reason she expected. From the first bite she took from Noah's hand, she saw what Lyda had pointed out. He did enjoy this, in a way that could be mistaken for how a Domme like Lyda would enjoy it. His eyes darkened, facial muscles tightening, his entire focus on how she took food from his hand. He became even more intent when her lips and tongue teased his fingertips.
She shifted onto her knees and put her hand on his thigh, gripping it with needy fingers there as he fed her the next bite. He lifted the water glass, guided the straw between her lips. When she was done drinking, her lips were wet and cool. He leaned forward, tasted them, a sliding type of kiss that didn't linger. Yet his eyes glinted as if they'd committed a playful infraction, coconspirators.
Losing her earlier reservations, she ate every bite from his hand. Licking the oil left on his fingers by the chips allowed her to bring up both hands to cup his. She followed the creases of his palm, nipping at the base of his fingers, pleased at how they caressed her face as she did it. His cock jerked, responding to the stimulation, but she gave him credit for keeping his attention on the charge Lyda had given him, as immersed in the pleasure of it as Gen.
At length, though, he pushed the plate away and scooped her up, bringing them both to their feet
. He took her hand. "Ready to do the scissor thing?" he asked.
"Maybe. If you tell me what that means."
"Easier to show you."
She gave him a narrow look. "I'm sensing ulterior motives."
He chuckled, but drew her to the rug, an ultra-soft throw meant to feel like animal fur but wasn't. Kneeling, he drew her down with him and stretched out on one hip, propping up his head with a bent arm and hand braced in front of him.
"Okay, lie down with your head at my feet and body stretched out in front of me so your feet are here." He patted the spot in front of his chest, accurately gauging the difference in their heights. "Just think erotic Twister."
That made her smile, which she was sure he intended, since she was feeling nervous again. When she complied, he adjusted her so she was turned mostly on her stomach, helping keep her comfortable as he adjusted their legs into a scissor lock. As he gripped her hips and eased the core of their bodies closer together, she realized only a few inches separated her pussy from his testicles. She expected "flush" meant closing those few inches.
He met her gaze, making sure of her state of mind as he made the intimate contact. Her thigh muscles twitched against his, an outward reaction to her inner one, feeling the weight of his balls press against her labia in such a careful, planned way, where the body wanted to move but the mind held it still. Looking down their bodies, she saw his cock hard against his belly.
"No movement now," he said. "Pillow your head on your folded arms. It's more comfortable that way." Since he was still on his hip, he folded one arm beneath his head, his palm pressed against the rug, holding them steady as much as was needed.
Lyda was moving around in the kitchen. Gen heard the microwave going. Perhaps she drank tea with her evening reading. Gen could feel the pulse in his scrotum, matched by the beat in her own cunt. What had seemed like an odd, maybe even silly position--erotic Twister indeed--was apparently up there in the list of erotic torture methods. Her breathing was shallow, her nipples tight against the rug through the thin dress. She wanted to move, wanted to rub against him. Why shouldn't she?
Because Lyda had said they were to remain still. Unlike small infractions like Gen touching Noah's cock, which hadn't been directly proscribed, Gen sensed deliberately going against something Lyda ordered would be disrespectful, like putting one's feet up on someone's coffee table when invited to a luncheon. Gen had choices, yes, but in this case she suspected she only had two approved ones. Stay in this position or back away from Noah and decide not to do this. Period.
Lyda reentered in a thin silk robe, one that stopped mid-thigh and showed enough provocative movement of her breasts beneath the overlapped lapels, a flash of thigh as she moved, to suggest she wore nothing under it. She carried a book and a teacup, the tag fluttering over the edge. Setting them on the side table next to a wing-backed chair close to the rug, Lyda moved to the mantle and uncovered a metronome. "These are very useful for taking things slow. Did you think I wouldn't know about that kiss, Noah?"
She didn't turn as she said it. Gen realized Lyda must have lingered to watch their mutual feeding from an unseen position.
"No Mistress." Noah didn't look disturbed, but he wasn't rebellious about it. His gaze was fixed on everything Lyda was doing, his body tight and aroused in its locked position against Gen. She found herself caught in the same thickening atmosphere, her heartbeat accelerating.
"I'll address that later. For now..." Lyda set the metronome ticking in a steady rhythm. Turning, her gaze covered Noah's naked body and Gen's, still in her dress. The skirt was rucked up so high from their position, Gen knew her ass was peeking out of the bottom, revealing the pink curves. Lyda's look of pure pleasure confirmed it.
From the pocket of her robe, she produced two scraps of cloth Gen realized were blindfolds. She squatted before Noah first, while Gen was thinking, oh no, I don't think so. Before Lyda put it on him, Noah caught her wrist. They locked gazes, Lyda giving him a cool stare. "Let go of me, Noah."
He nuzzled her hand with his mouth, his nose, closing his eyes as her nails lightly raked his forehead, his cheek. Her gaze softened, and she caressed the strands of hair scattered on his brow. "Behave," she murmured.
He let her go and she put the blindfold in place. When she shifted to Gen, dangling the blindfold before her, Gen smelled the tea, a chai blend, on her fingertips.
"This will intensify your pleasure," Lyda explained. "And my own."
Gen wasn't sure. But her hands weren't being tied. She could remove it at any time. So she didn't protest when Lyda put the blindfold on her, leaving only a line of light at the lower part and the weight of Lyda's proximity. She adjusted Gen's hair over and around it.
"Hear that slow click, click? That's one back-and-forth movement. During those two clicks, Gen, rub your cunt against Noah's balls and the base of his cock in a slow circle. Then you both wait another two clicks and Noah returns the favor. You alternate, never going faster or slower than the metronome. For every three times you mess up, get off rhythm, you get punished. Neither one of you is allowed to come unless I give permission. You'll do this with minimal talking. I don't want my reading disturbed."
Gen had no doubt she'd be watching them as an eagle watched prey, but the blindfolds would enforce the illusion. They'd hear the turning of pages, the shift of her body as she read, that seeming detachment only increasing the intensity of what they were doing. Hell, her pussy was already quivering with the restrained desire to move, to rub against that provocative stimulus, Noah's heat and rough-textured flesh against the petals of her cunt.
Lyda withdrew. They heard the sound of her settling, the light clink as she picked up the teacup.
"Ladies first." Noah's voice was already strained.
It was a game. Erotic twister, right? She focused on the metronome. It took a moment to get it right, and she hoped Lyda was allowing a learning curve before counting infractions. What would be the punishment? Don't Pass Go, stand in the corner for a minute? Her guesses probably weren't even close. But she wasn't into pain. Definitely not humiliation. That was a deal breaker.
"Focus," Noah murmured, a sensual invitation to play, not an admonishment.
It wasn't difficult, not from a mechanical standpoint. Rotate... Sliding her labia against the base of his cock, firmly enough the lips split over his hardness, then down... Press against his testicles, the give of them making an uneven stroke over her tissues. Then two beats and he did it to her, working himself against her cunt.
What was difficult was staying to the slow, ticktock, ticktock rhythm. Especially as they heard those pages being turned, the teacup lifting and lowering. The intensity was driven as much by Lyda's command as the direct physical stimulus. They were performing for her, serving a Mistress's desires. As her arousal built, Gen found herself losing a grip on self-consciousness as well as her internal debate about why she was doing this. She wanted to please Lyda, wanted the chance to wrap her lips around that succulent nipple again, feel her hair being stroked and her pussy getting needier as she suckled, as she maybe got the chance to do even more, feel even more, with both of them.
Her breath started to rasp. She bit it back, then cursed as she missed the rhythm count. Again.
"That's three, Gen." Gen's stomach jumped, but after a weighted pause, Lyda merely said, "Keep going."
Okay, so punishment was going to wait for later. Maybe Lyda was enjoying her voyeurism too much to interrupt it. It was her game after all, from beginning to end.
That spurt of thrilling panic had only increased sensation, such that she had to bite back a whimper. She'd seen plenty of people tonight who not only got off on being punished, but on watching it. From the size of Noah's cock pressed against her leg, she thought he'd gotten harder, and her pussy became even more soaked, sliding her against his testicles even faster.
"On rhythm," Lyda said sharply.
The slowness became the true torture, her pussy convulsing with every rotation, her clit hard
ening, quivering. If she could rub even a modicum faster, she would come. She thought Noah might be reaching the same point, from how careful their movements were becoming. Her fingers dug into the carpet. She'd flattened her upper body, the rug a sweet friction against her nipples. Lift, lower, rotate.
"Fuck," Noah breathed. "Mistress..."
"Sssh..." Lyda said absently. It sounded like she was engrossed in her book, but Gen was sure she was feeding off the pleasure she was denying them. The thought only inflamed Gen more. She and Noah were writhing on the floor like wanton animals.
"Please..." Gen whispered to the carpet. Then, so softly she thought it might not be heard, she said, "Mistress."
Lyda's bare foot pressed against her buttock. Still no response, no command to come. They had to keep to that rhythm. Over and over, until Gen's body was dewed with perspiration and she'd coated Noah's balls in her juices. His leg was damp beneath hers. They were both shaking with the effort of holding back.
"Stop." Lyda's foot withdrew. "Gen, on your knees. Come toward my voice. I won't let you run into anything."
She obeyed, clumsy, uncoordinated, but when Lyda touched her, drew her closer, she made that whimpering sound again. The blindfold helped remove all inhibitions, all embarrassment. There was just lust, the need to come.
"Sit up on your heels. Hands behind your back. Lace your fingers."
She teetered forward as she did it, but Lyda held her securely, hands on Gen's shoulders. She drew her down and forward, so Gen's chin rested on the seat cushion. Lyda was sliding closer, her thighs pressing against Gen's shoulders as she hooked her heels around the back of Gen's knees. Oh...she was going to... Yes.
She pushed Gen's face directly into her wet, fragrant pussy. "Eat my cunt, Gen, until I tell you to stop. Serve your Mistress well, and I'll allow you and Noah to come."
She didn't have the reasoning power to worry that this was her first time doing this to a woman and how to do it. She wanted to taste Lyda's pussy, suck juices from it, tease the labia, lash at the clit, nip at her with an almost savage hunger, no finesse. Lyda pulled her head even closer, burying Gen's face and mouth against her, moving against Gen as if she was marking her.