Divine Solace

by Joey W. Hill

  His next swat was directly on her pussy. She made a soft cry, her lips working against Lyda's foot. Her gaze flicked up to see their Mistress studying her reaction as well as Noah's, outside of Gen's view.

  "He's meaner than he looks, isn't he? Are you ever going to try to take advantage of him again when it's not by my direct order, Gen?"

  She thought of him on the floor, his hands bound on the spreader bar, the way he'd looked at her. "Maybe," she admitted, panting. "He's hard to resist teasing."

  "An honest answer. Sounds like you'll have the chance to punish her again, Noah."

  "Good." His voice was full of male satisfaction. He smacked her again, and Gen felt her pussy throb. She wanted him to hit it, hit her ass again. She wanted it to sting, get lost in this. She was lifting her ass higher, sending that message, and he obliged. He kept going, began to do it faster, more consistently, until she was crying out, quivering at the pain. The more he did it, the more fervently she pressed her mouth to their Mistress's foot. When Lyda's foot shifted, her leg rocking so her hips rolled open wider, Gen put her mouth on the arch, then the sole.

  "Oh..." It was starting to hurt a lot, the accumulation of the impacts, but just like when Lyda punished her, the more it hurt, the more she seemed to want. When he finally did stop, her fingers dug into the cover and she whimpered, as if she wanted him to keep going.

  "Look at me, Gen."

  She was sniffling, a little teary, a catharsis she was learning came with punishments. Lyda gave her a tender look, then crooked a finger at her. "Come here."

  Noah's hands gripped her waist as he lifted Gen's trembling body over the footboard. She crawled forward, kept coming until she was straddling Lyda's hips. She didn't make a move to take that phallus inside her, though. That was her Mistress's call. Again, she earned that look of approval that made everything worth it. Lyda settled her hands on Gen's hips and then, showing her own finesse with a strap-on, she began to lower Gen onto it.

  She'd been right. It was thicker than the last one. Lyda worked it into her slow, though, controlling her descent. When Gen was in to the hilt, Lyda laid her head back on the mattress, eyes half-lidded and mouth curved in a sensual way that made Gen want to taste her, touch her. But her Mistress was in the mood to be cruel.

  "Lace your hands on the back of your head, Gen. You totally belong to us right now. We're the ones taking."

  It made her feel even more vulnerable. Noah put his knee on the bed, shifted behind her. As he fitted the head of his cock to her opening, his thumbs parting her buttocks, she made an uncertain noise.

  "Sshh," Lyda said, holding her gaze. "Do you want to please us?"

  "Yes. Yes."

  "Then trust us. Push against him."

  She did, and he started to make headway, no pun intended. Noah wrapped an arm around her waist, his strong biceps contracting against the side of her breast. It burned a little, but she breathed through it.

  "Squeeze down on me, Gen."

  As she did, Noah groaned, and she realized the same motion squeezed his cock inside her. Lyda's eyes sparked. "You see how much pleasure you give both of us?"

  "She's too tight, Mistress."

  "Relax," Lyda crooned at her, cupping one of Gen's breasts and stroking the nipple above the lace. "He's not going to push. He'll go as slow as you need him to go. Think about how it feels, all those tiny nerves around your rim and inside, quivering, eager. I know it hurts some. Let's see what we can do about that."

  Lyda made an adjustment beneath them, her knuckles brushing Gen's labia, and then the strap-on was vibrating, those tiny beads caressing and massaging Gen's opening, the two-way clitoral stimulator pressed in just the right place.

  She held Lyda's eyes, held onto her voice, Noah's hands stroking her sides, his mouth brushing her neck. Gen let out a little whimper as Noah made it all the way in.

  Lyda's face was suffused with pleasure, her gaze coursing down over Gen's quivering breasts in the pretty bra. She captured one to play with and Noah caught the other, two different types of touches, tearing her into two equally pleasurable sides, a harlequin of response.

  Their hands dropped back down to Gen's hips, Noah's hands overlapping Lyda's. The two of them started so gradually, it was a rhythmic motion like two children daydreaming on a seesaw. The slippery movement of his cock inside Gen did start to feel more pleasurable, less painful, though enough of that burn stayed to make it provocative, to keep Gen cognizant of that arousing sense of serving their needs, no matter her own discomfort. It turned her on so freaking much she couldn't even wrap her mind around it.

  Holy God, that stimulator. As Lyda began to be more insistent about pushing up inside her, a climax roared up on Gen so quickly, she didn't expect it. Her fingers knotted against the back of her head. "I can't...Mistress...I'm going to come."

  "Yes, you are. And there's not a damn thing you can do to stop it."

  Lyda made it sound like the threat it was. Gen had never had a climax while being impaled both vaginally and anally before. Throw the vibration into it, the stimulation to her nipples and breasts, and it was like being shot off into orbit. And the stimulation didn't abate. It got more intense, the two of them ramping up the force of their thrusts, so the speed and force of the rocket just kept increasing.

  She screamed, long and loud, no hope that a babbling creek would cloak the sound. She wouldn't have been surprised if her climax echoed through the mountains. She begged, pleaded and screamed some more as she spun out of that orbit, control lost, spiraling toward impact. It was almost too much, a torment, but they refused to heed her pleas for mercy. That impact hit and the feeling just kept going, plowing deep beyond her pussy and ass, into her very soul, shattering it.

  She had a shred of cognizance left when the two of them followed her. Lyda's face tightened, her eyes getting that lovely glazed look. Vaguely, Gen heard her order Noah to let go. His arm around her nearly cut off her breath, but it was a blissful asphyxiation as they both hammered into her for the full measure of satisfaction. Their harsh groans, pleasurable cries, gasping breaths, kept her captured in a post-climactic miasma, taking her with them, as far out over the mountains and into the sky as they wanted to go. Soaring, soaring, soaring.

  She'd never blacked out during sex. When she became aware again, Noah had pulled free and disposed of his condom. He was laying her down on Lyda, Lyda's arms winding around Gen to hold her secure against her body. The strap-on was still inside Gen, but Noah took care of that as well, unbuckling it and pulling it free of them both, causing them to make twin sounds of pleasure at the friction. Gen pressed herself against Lyda's mound, absorbing a ricochet of aftershock. Lyda responded with a teasing little hip rotation and bump that made Gen moan again.

  During their lovemaking, the cavitation of their three bodies had left them in a diagonal stretch across the bed. When she rested her head on Lyda's shoulder, she saw Noah wrap his hand around Gen's foot, pressed against Lyda's shin. He bent, pressed a gentle kiss to Gen's buttock, teasing it with his tongue. Then he nuzzled Lyda's knee, kissed it the same way.

  She drifted some more, soothed by his caresses. When she tuned in again, he had a damp cloth between her buttocks, something that soothed. Lyda stroked her head.

  "Nicely done, rabbit," she murmured. "You're our sweet little fucktoy. We're never letting you go."

  It showed how fried her brain was that she accepted that as the best of compliments, a stirring one at that. She was happy with it. She was happy with any designation from Lyda that started with "our", even if it was just playful aftercare. She closed her eyes, and wanted nothing more than to be theirs.

  *

  She wasn't sure how Lyda felt about it, but Gen was nervous about how Noah's grandmother would perceive their relationship. There were older female patrons at Tea Leaves who had the detection powers of CIA operatives. If they chose not to comment about something, it had to do with traditional manners and courtesy, not stupidity. They came from an era when sexual m
atters were behind closed doors, not aired on Dr. Phil like a laundry list.

  People were getting more accustomed to same-sex partners, so the chemistry between her and Lyda might pass without comment, but Gen wasn't sure there was any way to disguise that chemistry was a three-way connection. Noah seemed unconcerned about the matter, but since it was clear Noah could be a few sandwiches shy of a picnic on certain subjects, that wasn't necessarily reassuring.

  No more time to worry over it, though, since they were even now walking up the road of the resort where his grandmother was staying. What would happen would happen. Gen just didn't want to do anything that would give Noah problems with the one family member who still accepted him. Glancing over at Lyda, she looked a little too dispassionate, her way of covering tension, but Lyda had made it clear she didn't really do families, that this situation with Noah was an exception.

  It made sense. How would you introduce a woman who was your Mistress, with a capital M, to your family? You couldn't, so from the get-go the relationship would be referenced in vague generalities. And "vague generality" didn't apply to Lyda at all.

  As they turned up the driveway, Gen saw the subject of her worries was already on the lookout for them. Dorothy "Dot" Wilder was a heavyset woman with bright blue eyes and a dandelion-style puff of white hair around her round face. Her hands were gnarled from bad arthritis, her legs bent with the same, explaining why she used the motorized wheelchair. Noah had said she could walk with the aid of a walker, but her back was badly twisted as well.

  Those were momentary impressions, however. When Dot saw them, the expression on her face could only be described as pure joy. All the smiling lines on her face turned her eyes into cheerful crescents. "There's my beautiful grandson. Mona, come out here and see Noah. He's here."

  When Gen saw the look on Noah's face, a bright reflection of the love on Dorothy's, her worries evaporated. Especially when Dot's gaze swept over the two women, a quick sizing up. It wouldn't matter what missteps she or Lyda might make. She saw the unbreakable history between these two. More importantly, she saw everything she needed to know in his grandmother's eyes. Love, understanding, sorrow, happiness. Dot was the guardian at the gate, the one family member who stood for the child within Noah, the child that stayed inside every adult, either nurtured by love or handicapped by a lack of love.

  It made Gen's heart hurt, seeing the connection between them, so strong as a result of how weak it was with others. Well, the joke's on you, she thought. Because any parent with a heart would want their child to look at them the way he was looking at Dot. Actually, anyone at all would want Noah to look at them with such devotion.

  Gen stilled inside, realizing she had seen that look on Noah's face before. It didn't have the same sensual overtones, of course, but in some of his intense moments with her or Lyda, his heart had been right there for them to see. To take.

  When Noah glanced at Lyda, she gave him a light shove. "Your grandmother is top dog here," she said, with a strained smile that suggested his expression had broken Lyda's heart a little as well. "When she says jump, you leap."

  Noah kissed her hand, and then he was striding across the wooden bridge and up the steps to hop on the porch and kneel by his grandmother, whom he enveloped in a huge hug.

  Lyda linked arms with Gen, both of them studying the two, giving them a minute. "So she lives in Tampa the rest of the year?" Gen asked.

  "Yeah. Even when he moved in with me, he went to see her a couple days a week. It does him a lot of good. I hadn't met her before now, though." At Gen's glance, Lyda grimaced. "Yeah, I'm a hardass, I know it. But you two forced me into a weak moment, so here I am."

  Lyda tempered it with a wry look, but when she put pressure on Gen's arm, it was clear she wanted Gen right with her when they stepped onto the porch. She was nervous. Yeah, in a Lyda kind of way, which was more like aggressive tension, ready for a fight, and there was no fight to be had here. Despite her initial worry over how displays of affection would be interpreted, Gen put her hand over Lyda's. Her Mistress's fingers were cold.

  "It's okay," she said. "She's going to think you're amazing, the way we all do."

  "I suck at families," Lyda said, keeping a smile on her face, barely moving her lips.

  "Not from where I'm standing. Seems like you're working toward creating one out of the three of us. And doing a pretty good job of it."

  That won a startled look. "Don't freak me out, rabbit."

  "Nice to know you have a freak-out button."

  "Remember I also have a whip."

  In truth, Gen hadn't realized anything had the capacity to spook their Mistress, but that idea--her, Noah and Lyda forming a family--apparently did. Lyda never lacked for courage, though. She took a breath and they'd crossed the bridge, though Gen squeezed her hand once more before Lyda gently pushed her forward, so she preceded her. As Gen went up the narrow set of steps that led up to the back porch of the bungalow, Lyda following, Noah rose, his hand still in his grandmother's grasp.

  "I told her I just saw her three weeks ago," he said. "I'm not back from Afghanistan or anything."

  "Don't sass your grandmother," Dorothy scolded. "Every morning I wake up is one more morning I'm surprised I'm not dead. So when I see you, it's like I'm coming from Afghanistan."

  Yep, just as blunt as the women at the tea room. Gen liked her already, even as the shrewd blue eyes pinned her like a hawk. "Introduce me to your friends, Noah."

  "This is Lyda Coltrane, my boss at the nursery, and Genevieve Wisner, a good friend. She goes by Gen."

  It surprised Gen that Noah knew her full name, let alone introduced her by it. He must have gotten it from Chloe, which made her wonder what else her coworker had told him about her. Probably best that she didn't ask.

  Dorothy extended a gnarled hand to Lyda. "Gently, girl. Fingers are a mess."

  Lyda gave her the lightest of squeezes. "All the work I do at the nursery, my hands often ache at night. What do you use for yours?"

  "Oh, I've tried all sorts of remedies. I'll give you a few ideas while you're here. If I'd done some of them earlier, I would have been better off. But I hope you won't face that. Look at how tall and lovely you are." She turned to Gen. "And where do you work?"

  "Tea Leaves, ma'am."

  "Of course. Laura Smith's niece had her bridal shower there. Laura told me it was a delightful place. I'll have to go. Maybe Noah will bring me one day."

  "We'd be delighted to have you."

  "Good. I'll be coming. And I'm Dot, not ma'am. There's wine, bourbon and some fruity cocktail makings inside. Noah, make us ladies a drink. Mona's lying down watching the news right now. I have no idea why, because she and I are going to be long dead before anything happening in the world affects us, but she thinks by watching it she can control things. Ask her what she wants, and then bring us ours."

  "You're not supposed to have alcohol with your prescriptions."

  She bumped his leg with her closed fist. "I'm eighty-four years old. If I want to have a pretty strawberry daiquiri with a scoop of ice cream, then that's what I'll be having. I don't think St. Peter's told a single person they can't get into heaven because they didn't follow their doctor's advice. Else it'd be as empty up there as a church on discount day at the casino."

  Gen choked on a laugh. Noah rolled his eyes, but he bent, pressed his cheek to hers, winning a tsk and a light swat. "Don't mess up my hair. I just had it done this morning."

  Noah straightened, keeping a hand on her shoulder. "What can I get you?" he asked Gen and Lyda.

  "One of those fruity drinks sounds good," Gen said.

  "A dry white," Lyda said. "Toss a cherry into it if you have one."

  "We don't go anywhere without maraschinos," Dorothy assured her. As Noah disappeared into the house she looked over her shoulder at him, then glanced back at the two women. Gen had watched him leave as well, though for different reasons. Too late, she realized she shouldn't be ogling Dorothy's grandson, but the woman gave
her an amused look. "He's always been a looker, coming and going. When he takes me to see my friends at the senior center, I have to beat those horny old women off him with a cane. Some of them read those cougar romances and get ideas. And I know my grandson. He'd worry about hurting the feelings of Imelda Marcos." She squinted. "I bet neither of you have any idea who that is."

  Gen didn't but Lyda did, obviously better-educated on political history. Gen shifted uncomfortably, winning a curious look from her Mistress, but Dorothy fortunately distracted them with two questions. "So which of you is with him? Or hoping to be?"

  Given Lyda's moment of trepidation at the bridge, Gen was ready to jump in with a vague but diplomatic answer. She should have known their Mistress was at her best in the face of a challenge. Lyda met Dot's gaze. "The way I answer that depends on how much you know about your grandson, regardless of what he thinks you know."

  Gen managed not to let her jaw drop. Dorothy gave Lyda an assessing look. "I know enough to know you're in charge." Her gaze went to Gen. "Of both of them, her and my grandson?"

  "As long as they're willing to let me be in charge. That's the way it works. At least, that's what I'm trying to teach him. That it's all his choice."

  Dorothy was silent for a moment. "How's that going?"

  "Better some days. Worse on others. I'm figuring him out, enough to know some things might not get figured out."

  "Yes." Dot gave a brittle smile. "I don't know how much of that came from nature versus nurture. I do know there was a time I wanted to kill his father, and my stupid daughter with him. Anyone who spends any time with that boy can feel how special he is, how generous his heart."

  Gen nodded without even having to think about it. Dot's gaze slid to her, the smile getting a little easier, though it was tinged with the past. "His father crushed him, you know. He could have just left it at 'I can't accept your lifestyle and get out', but oh no, that wasn't enough. Art went after him with everything. Told a seventeen-year-old boy someone should cut off his privates because Noah was obviously more of a sniveling woman than a real man. I expect he was trying to shame Noah into being what he wanted him to be."