by Joey W. Hill
"I want to touch you everywhere," she said against Lyda's mouth.
"We'll see about that. If that's what you want, you better dress for it. Convince me. Both of you. And I want to go out to dinner. Joseph's."
"Italian?" Gen's brows lifted, making Lyda smile. With her pixie hairstyle, the gesture enhanced the size and depth of her gray eyes.
"Yes. Pasta. Bread. Maybe even dessert."
Gen reached out as if to take her temperature and Lyda swatted her hand away. Gen grinned. "Just checking. Was afraid you were delusional."
"My skull was fractured, but my brain was not affected," Lyda retorted.
"Because your head was too hard to break. Doesn't mean it didn't rattle something around in there."
Lyda pushed the chair back. "Just for that, you'll help me bathe and dress tonight."
*
Though Gen had been doing that for a while, with Noah's help when Lyda wasn't able to support her own weight, it was clear tonight was going to be different. Lyda didn't require her help as a recovering accident patient. She was commanding Gen's service, a Mistress who knew the power of giving her submissives access to every inch of her body with no permission to take pleasure from it, except for the intense arousal that denial provided.
When Noah had returned home, Lyda had wasted no time telling him the same thing she'd told Gen. When they'd heard the truck return, heard him talking to the other men, Lyda had called out his name. A few moments later he'd appeared around the corner. He'd been sweaty and dirty, looking as delectably rugged and masculine as Lyda had described. As he pulled off his work gloves, glancing expectantly toward Gen, Lyda's cool voice drew his gaze. "You'll be attending me tonight, Noah," she said. "Do you understand?"
"Yes Mistress."
It had only taken the tone of Lyda's voice, and Gen saw a potent flash of that same fire in Noah's eyes, banked for far too long. Gen felt an answering surge in her own desires. The three of them were going to set the backyard on fire just by thinking of all they wanted from each other. What they'd been wanting from each other. Because that was tied up with deeper, emotional yearnings, it was possible it might just turn them all to ash when fully unleashed. She didn't think any of them cared.
"You'll finish up by six and join us in the bathroom," Lyda had said, and that was that.
Now it was 6:10, and they were in the bathroom. Lyda had ordered Noah to sit on the commode outside the large Jacuzzi tub in his shorts only. In the same breath she'd commanded Gen to strip. Noah was allowed to give her a steadying hand as she stepped into the tub to kneel between Lyda's legs, but then he had to keep his hands to himself. Their Mistress sat on a shower stool in the steaming water. At Lyda's nod, Gen took up the soap and began to wash the long legs under his avid gaze.
Her limbs had lost muscle tone these past weeks, but Lyda was recovering some of it, with her adherence to the rehab schedule and the water aerobics regimen the doctor was permitting her. Though Lyda grumbled about being part of the old lady water brigade, Gen thought she was actually enjoying it. Now.
Lyda had met many challenges in her life, but dealing with a body incapable of what she demanded from it had not been one of them. The morning of the third class, she hadn't felt well, but she'd insisted on going. Inevitably, she started to feel nauseous and barely made it to the side of the pool. She couldn't make it out in time, but Gen was already ready with the airsickness bag. Lyda lost her breakfast and stood there shivering, her head down. That was when Gen heard a muttered "Fuck" and realized tears were running down her Mistress's face. Lyda had her head bowed to hide them, shoulders clenched like a fist, her anger at her own weakness.
That was when several of the elderly women in the class came over. One of them put a hand on Lyda's back, another touching her shorn hair. "It's all right, honey... You're doing great... Don't you worry about it. We won't tell you how many of us with our weak bladders pee right here in this pool whenever we cough or sneeze. It's a good thing they use lots of chlorine."
Lyda managed a half chuckle, half snort at that, but the tears kept coming. Gen knew it was prescription meds and physical exhaustion, but that didn't matter to Lyda. Afraid her Mistress might drown herself rather than show weakness. Gen was down on her knees on the edge of the pool, folding her arms around her. Of course, proving her theory, that just made Lyda stiffen like a board. The women exchanged a look, a message sent and received.
"All right then." One gave Lyda a brisk pat. "If you're all done here, come back over and join us. We're trying an Isadora Duncan move today and you're going to be the center of the flower. Think you're up to standing still?"
Lyda used her forearm to swipe impatiently at the tears. "Don't baby me."
"Baby you? Honey, I was a combat nurse in Vietnam. If you think a little vomiting's going to get you out of this, you have another think coming. When new nurses fainted, I just threw water in their faces and barked at them to get their asses up off the ground."
Lyda gave Gen's hand a squeeze to tell her she was okay and went back into the class. Over the subsequent weeks, the women never stopped encouraging her in their practical way. Over time it was clear Lyda was both deeply moved by their compassion and quietly humbled by it, a new look for her. Some of the women brought things to Gen to help "fatten her up". One day, reading a magazine and waiting for Lyda to finish, Gen was amused to see one of the ladies point to her and whisper to her friend, "I'm pretty sure she's with her, Brigitte. As in with her."
You bet your ass, she'd thought, surprised by how strongly she meant it. But wouldn't you be surprised if you knew that wasn't all of it? She had a spurt of devilish intent, imagining Noah coming to a class with them.
Tuning back into the present, because there was no place she'd rather be when Lyda was naked, wet and slippery with soap, she worked her way up her legs.
"Be mindful of our audience, rabbit." Lyda gazed down at her, reflecting the sensual mischief Gen had just been experiencing.
As Lyda spread her legs and grasped the shower bar, Gen washed between her legs...very thoroughly. Slow rotations, teasing the labia with her fingers, rubbing over the clit as Lyda sighed. Gen wasn't sure she was strong enough for an orgasm, but she could obviously enjoy arousal.
The bruising on Noah's ribs had disappeared, but he'd had a nasty, deep gash caused by the broken glass of the rear window raking down his back as the car dropped from around him. The stitches had been removed, but the scar would be permanent. She'd noticed it had bisected Yours Unconditionally, taking out the "un". She wasn't sure if he'd noticed that, but she'd been far more concerned with how close that gash had come to cutting through his spine.
Noah had been shirtless around Lyda a few times, especially on the nights he'd taken his turn on the master bedroom couch where he could watch over her, but Gen wasn't sure if Lyda had marked the change, either. Tonight was the first time since the accident that any of them would be indulging in slow, leisurely...noticing.
She wanted to touch every inch of Lyda, not just the parts Noah might find more fascinating to see her touch. The good thing was that she could please all of them, at her own pace. So she took her time working up to Lyda's breasts. Once there, she cupped them, spreading her fingers out over their shape, noting the weight, the color of the nipples, the areolae, the track of her breastbone up to her throat. She noticed every wound, though all had healed well enough the stitches were gone.
She flattened her palms onto her shoulders, slid her thumbs into the crevices of collarbone, over the base of the throat, her nape, then she was close, sliding her hands down Lyda's back, along her shoulder blades as Lyda put an arm around her, fingers stroking Gen's hip. She brought her down for a brush of lips.
"You've gotten possessive on me."
It was then Gen realized she'd started murmuring as she stroked Lyda's body. Two words. Repeated at the same floating pace of the steam swirling around them.
"Mine. Ours."
Lyda didn't seem offended. More bemuse
d. Gen turned her attention to the right arm, now healed enough to be brace free. She soaped it to slickness, taking care with every individual finger, elbow, armpit, the beating pulse of her wrist.
"You're putting Noah into a trance," Lyda observed with a light smile, though her eyes were serious.
Gen paused, resting her hand and the soap on Lyda's thigh to twist around. He was sitting on the closed commode lid, back straight, hands on his thighs. The lust in his expression was eclipsed by a yearning that matched what Gen was feeling as she savored every inch of their Mistress.
"I need someone to do my feet while you do my back. Don't you think?" Lyda glanced down at her.
"Definitely," Gen said. Lyda gave her an affectionate caress.
"My pets are never selfish. They're always willing to share with one another. I like that. Noah, take off your clothes and come join us. Do my feet."
Noah slid off the boxers, the only thing he'd been wearing in anticipation of his own shower. He had to work the waistband over his erection, which they watched in appreciation. Gen angled the spray so she could move around to wash Lyda's back while he took her place. Kneeling between Lyda's feet, he took a second bar of soap from the basket to work on the arches and heels, massaging them so the woman leaned back, head cradled on Gen's breasts, eyes half closed in bliss as he worked magic.
As Gen slid against her Mistress' soap-slick skin, Lyda reached back, gripping her buttock so Gen rubbed her mound against her lower back. "Nice," Lyda said in a throaty voice. Gen worked soap up her neck, behind her ears, inside the delicate shells. Then Lyda tipped back her head and Gen angled the spray to wet her short hair.
"Only need about a drop of shampoo for that," Lyda observed, eyes closed, water droplets running over her cheeks, her lips. Gen wanted to suck every bead off them, but worked the shampoo into the baby soft thatch instead.
"I love the color. It has even more gold in it, like fire light."
"Stop at my knees, Noah." Lyda tapped his hand as Noah's fingers started drifting up her thighs. "You don't get that until later. And only if you're very, very good. Do you think he knows how to be that good, Gen?"
"Well, he is male, and not entirely housetrained." When she shot him a teasing look, he gave her a deliberately not-housetrained expression. "Though he does look like he did when he wanted to spank me."
"I'll bet." Lyda reached out blind, found his face. Noah nuzzled her, closing his fingers over her wrist to apply the talents of his tongue to her palm. A tremor of arousal went through Lyda, echoed in Gen's own body. But her Mistress wasn't going to let them control things tonight. As soon as Gen finished rinsing her hair, Lyda drew her hand back and prodded Noah with her toe, setting him back as she straightened.
"That's enough of that. Gen, help me dress. Noah, take our place in the shower and then go get your things out of the guesthouse. You can get dressed in the guest bath." Her gaze met his. "From now on, I want you both staying in the house."
His face had that hard-to-read expression, but he nodded. "Yes Mistress."
Lyda gave them a sweeping look. "Remember, when you're deciding what to wear tonight, I expect proof that my pets want their Mistress."
Wanting Lyda was as inevitable as wanting air to breathe. A feeling that became more agonizing for Gen when they'd left the shower and Lyda decided her foundation garments for the night would be a black corset and sheer black panties that hinted at the folds of her sex. The tiny sparkles sprinkled over the fabric enhanced the tempting look. After his shower, Noah was called to help with the lacing. Gen had helped Lyda into the short black skirt that went under it, so their Mistress stood unsteadily in just that, holding onto Gen's hands, while Noah arranged the ties in back.
Watch this, Lyda mouthed, giving Gen a wink.
Gen had seen Chloe lace up a corset before, and though the girl knew what she was doing, it was a pull, adjust, pull adjust, tie-off process that could take a few minutes. Apparently, Noah put all the adjustment into the front end of the process, his brow creased, his eyes intent as he worked. When he finally said "Ready?" Lyda met Gen's gaze and tightened her grip on Gen's hands.
Noah pulled the corset tight in one, smooth pull that nipped in Lyda's waist, pushed her breasts upward, and gave her hips that appealing flare.
The breath that left Lyda from the expert adjustment was no more about the hold of the corset than the one that left Gen, just watching it. Lyda gave her a knowing, amused look. "Any thoughts about what you want to wear tonight?"
If she owned a corset, that question would have been answered in a heartbeat. But Lyda had a solution. And a mandate.
"There's a waist cincher in the bottom drawer of my lingerie chest. It will fit you. Have Noah put that on you first. It's soft enough to wear under your clothes, and he loves the look. It will make his cock so hard he'll be trying to figure out what he can wear tonight without embarrassing himself. Won't you?" She reached behind her to caress Noah's face. When he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, she put her temple against his jaw before shrugging him away with casual indifference. It was entirely deceptive, since Gen saw anything but apathy in Lyda's eyes as she sent him off to get dressed.
Lyda glanced in the mirror, frowned. "Fuck. I look like a scarecrow."
"No, you don't. You need to put on ten more pounds, but you look way healthier now than you did a few weeks ago. I promise."
Lyda gave her a wry look. "Are you reassuring your Mistress?"
"Sometimes she gets insecure too. Rare as a lightning strike, but it can happen."
Lyda snorted. Gen brought her the bolero jacket she wanted to wear over the corset, and then they accessorized with silver earrings and necklace with a tiny diamond pendant. Gen hadn't been giving Lyda empty praise. Yes, she was still too thin and pale, but she was getting healthier. A few weeks ago she had looked like a scarecrow. Now she was an ethereal Fae queen, fragile and yet mesmerizing, inspiring protectiveness and a desire to be as close to her as possible. She wouldn't share that, though. Lyda would laugh at her.
When she noticed Lyda looking a little drained from the shower, she coaxed her to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Shoes are a challenge." Lyda stared in the closet. "I want to wear heels, but the doctor says the left leg needs to be about six months stronger. Barbarian."
"Well, he's probably thinking more about protecting your leg than what you should wear to dinner."
"That's what happens when a man sees you vomiting and bleeding and your head shaved." Lyda gave a mock shudder. "I have no power over him."
"Not true." Moving to the closet, Gen studied the racks of shoes. "Noah saw all of those things, and he couldn't wait to be at your feet tonight. But then, when someone loves you, you always have power over them, for good or bad."
When Lyda got quiet, Gen bit her lip. "I know he hasn't said it, but I think it's true." Based on what she was starting to believe love was, she was getting pretty convinced that saying the words weren't what made it real to the parties involved.
"You didn't say anything wrong, Gen." Lyda grimaced as she shifted on the bed. The crash had wrenched her back and neck, sometimes bringing painful twinges. Gen had learned not to make a big deal out of them, but she made a mental note to suggest a pain killer to Lyda before they left. She knew their Mistress wanted tonight to be pleasurable. The trick was going to be getting her not to overdo so she had the energy to do what she wished. While that would be to Gen and Noah's benefit, Gen wasn't really thinking about the selfish side of things. She thought they all needed it tonight.
"How about the black flats with the quarter-inch heel?" Lyda sighed. "At least they give my feet a nice shape, and they're rubber-soled."
"What if we use the transport chair tonight, and you can wear these?" Gen lifted the black spike heels Lyda had been eyeing as her preferred choice to show off her legs, scars or no.
"I'm not clueless, Gen."
Gen blinked innocently, said nothing. Lyda's lips quirked. "All right, rabbit. But the
only reason I'm agreeing is I want the reason I collapse tonight to be because of what I do to you and Noah."
"And we appreciate your agreeable nature, rare though it is."
"Little bitch. Come here."
Gen brought the shoes. When Lyda extended a foot with royal haughtiness, Gen bent over to slip it on. Then she snapped up straight and fast at the hard, sharp pinch on her bare ass. Nothing wrong with the strength in her Mistress's fingers. "Ow."
"You deserved it," Lyda said. Her gaze slid over Gen, lingered. "I like having a naked servant. I may keep you like this more often." She ran a finger down the inside of Gen's thigh. "It turns you on as well, doesn't it?"
"Yes ma'am." Breathlessness returned as Lyda's finger slid higher, teased her pussy, just a tantalizing touch before she drew away.
"All right. Get me settled in the living room so I can take a little predinner rest while you make yourself pretty for me."
Once she had Lyda on the couch, Gen found the waist cincher, slipped on a robe and went to find Noah. He'd dried his hair and brushed it to silk, catching it on his shoulders with a bronze clip. Slacks and a dress shirt were an appealing look on him. When she sidled up to him, he was tying a thin silk black tie. His light spice cologne teased her senses, along with the rest of the package.
Lyda obviously wanted to heighten sexual tension between them, so teasing touches and lots of innuendo should be okay. At least that was Gen's logic as she cupped him through the slacks, earning a startled look that became heated as she stroked her way up a cock that was immediately attentive to her. "I need help with the waist cincher."
"I'm here to help." His tone promised some very unhelpful distraction.
She'd said beneath Gen's clothes, so Gen took off the robe and stood in front of the guestroom bed, her back to him. As he approached, the currents of air he disturbed sent a shiver through her. His hands landed on her shoulders, caressing. Did he recognize the proprietary message he sent through that grip? She wasn't going to point it out, not wanting to break the sensual hope it created.
"Watching you serve her naked made me crazy as it made her."
"I think that was her plan. I didn't mind it either." When he pressed a kiss to her nape, she drew a shuddering breath. "Waist cincher."