by Joey W. Hill
"So you said." He took it from her, turned her to hook the front. He started from the bottom and worked up, the heel of his hand brushing her lower abdomen. When he reached the top, his knuckles were grazing the lower curve of her breasts.
"She wants to drive us insane tonight," he said conversationally.
"It's working."
"Hell, yeah." His lips curved. "But I'm concerned she's not up for it."
"We'll take it easy. Follow her lead. And our own."
When she met his gaze, he nodded. They would care for their Mistress however she needed care. They'd make it work.
He turned her then, started making his adjustments. "Hold onto the bedpost," he said. "How tight do you want it?"
"As tight as you want it."
A muffled chuckle, and a muttered, "Yep, completely crazy," had Gen smiling. But she noticed he also hadn't done what he usually did, deferred to her or Lyda, refusing to acknowledge his own wants.
Then all thought disappeared as she experienced firsthand what Lyda had. Oh...my. Their Mistress might be a Domme, but no woman in her right mind could be unaffected by that smooth flow of motion that gave her both the sense of instant restraint at a strong man's hands and a heightened awareness of all her curves. Then there was how tempting the resulting display would be to a man's appreciative gaze. Noah settled his hands on her waist, smoothing over it, checking the fit. She rotated her ass against the front of his slacks and purred, finding his cock straining beneath the fabric.
"Hope you're wearing a jacket. Or you're going to scare women and children. Well, maybe just the children."
"Your ass really needs a handprint to go with that pinch Lyda gave you."
"I'll tell Mom."
He snorted, then his mouth brushed her throat again. Cupping her bare breasts, he pushed his cock against her ass. "God," she whispered. "I want you both so much. I was so afraid...I'd never have that again."
When he pressed his face hard into her hair, she had the impression he'd closed his eyes, caught up in the same emotions she was. Gen had come to his bedside in the hospital as often as needed, touching base with him until he was discharged. Then they'd worked together to care for Lyda. When Gen faltered in worries about their Mistress, he'd been right by her side, helping, letting her lean on him, saying the right things at the right time. There was nothing weak about this man. Just broken in a few places, and they all had that, didn't they?
"Go get dressed," he said roughly, pushing her toward the door.
She was surprised, but when she turned to look at him, he was back at the mirror, working on the tie. As she watched him, he slanted her a glance, and the gaze that slid over her body, naked except for the form-fitting waist cincher, was molten steel.
"If you don't, I'm going to fuck you on all fours like a damn animal, and we're both going to be in a lot of trouble."
She fled.
She chose a cute little black dress whose lined bodice didn't require a bra, and thong panties with a cotton crotch that didn't have a prayer of absorbing her arousal.
When they emerged to take Lyda to dinner, her expression told them she was pleased. As she reached out with both hands, they came to her, forming a circle. Lyda gazed at them. "Mine," she murmured. "My beautiful pets."
They had a wonderful time at the restaurant. It was obviously a celebration of what lay behind them, possibly what lay ahead. Lyda ordered a pasta dish and gelato for dessert, even taking a bite of the chocolate cake Gen ordered and the cannoli Noah wanted. Gen noticed they often caught the intrigued attention of the patrons, probably because Lyda was liberal with her touches, caressing Gen's hair, touching her cheek, laying her palm high on Noah's thigh. Playing footsie with them beneath the table. What they all wanted was the sweet touch of cream in their after-dinner coffee, the steam rising off it like the sexual current running between them.
Finally, Lyda handed her credit card to Noah, giving him a burning look. "Pay for our dinner, Noah. It's time to go home."
Moments later, they were in the car, him driving. Lyda had Gen sit in the back with her, and she quickly discovered her Mistress was not in the mood to be patient. Lyda pulled her over, fingers delving into her hair and destroying the swept-up style as she took over Gen's mouth. Gen moaned against her lips, and gripped Lyda's waist, wanting the body beneath the corset.
"Eyes on the road, Noah," Lyda ordered against Gen's skin. "You listen to us get hot and bothered. You don't get to look until you have us safely home."
"Yes Mistress." But his voice was raw with the thrilling edge of male impatience.
Lyda put her hand beneath Gen's skirt, and Gen gasped as Lyda broke the elastic of the thong's leg opening with one fierce jerk, causing her no constriction as she pressed her fingers beneath it into Gen's soaking pussy. "Ah, there she is. I just shoved four fingers into her cunt, and all she did was tremble, Noah. She wants to be fucked so badly she's hurting for it. But so am I. What do we do about that?"
It was a rhetorical question, one Lyda already had plans to answer, Gen was sure. Which was good, because Noah had all he could do not to run them off the road. Lyda obviously had no post-traumatic issues about being in a car tonight. And with her fingers scissoring up inside her, Gen had no brain cells to answer the question, either.
Lyda wrapped her fingers around Gen's throat, pushing her back against the car seat and tipping her head back so she was staring at the ceiling. Lyda stroked her pounding pulse, held her collared. "Spread your legs as far as they'll go, Gen. Be shameless for me."
When she obeyed, Lyda pushed up under the clit hood, causing an uncomfortable and overwhelming sensation. "Such a sensitive bundle of nerves. You can torture a girl like this, make her feel so aroused yet so overstimulated, it's pain and pleasure at once. Do you want more, Gen?"
"Yes." Gen squeaked as the dual sensations ramped up. "Yes Mistress."
"Better. I'm feeling tyrannical tonight. I've been out of control too long. Who's in charge, Gen? Who owns you?"
"You, Mistress."
"Good." Those fingers stroked, plucked, while Gen writhed, pinned by that hold on her throat. "Noah, she's so beautiful, her legs spread out like that, pretty little skirt pushed up. I can't wait to strip her down to that waist cincher. Do it now, Gen."
Gen pulled the dress over her head, getting rid of it, gasping as Lyda kept her fingers working between her legs. Lyda ripped the side of the thong, finishing the job, leaving Gen in the waist cincher, heels and jewelry.
"Don't speed, Noah. We might have a policeman joining our threesome if he saw Gen like this."
Gen managed to speak. "I don't think Noah is into sharing that way."
Lyda noticed Noah's set jaw, his grip on the wheel. "My pets share with each other, but nobody else." Reaching over the seat, she flicked Noah's neck. "I like that too."
*
When they pulled into the drive, Gen had lost her mind to full-blown lust. Lyda had kept stroking and teasing her cunt, and the stimulation of that, added to her provocatively naked body in the waist cincher, was enough to have her ready to do anything Lyda wanted, even if it involved farm animals.
When she made that observation, Lyda gave a sexy chuckle. "Don't think I want to share you that way, either, rabbit. She needs to be carried, Noah. Her legs are shaking."
The terrain to the door wasn't smooth. It also wasn't designed for the light transport chair. So when Lyda reached for the cane that had recently replaced her crutches, Gen's glazed eyes met Noah's in the mirror. Lyda anticipated them.
"I can and will do this," she said. "Bring her inside, Noah."
Noah paused. Though they both realized proving herself was important to Lyda, protecting her was equally important to them. So Noah scooped Gen up and brought her to the door as Lyda bid, but he did it fast. By the time Lyda was out of the car and had taken the first step or two with the cane, he was back by her side.
She'd removed the heels, held them hooked on one finger, so he took them from her with gen
tle courtesy, keeping his gaze on her progress. Lyda kept her eyes on Gen, waiting for them in an outfit designed for one thing--to encourage lots of hot, over-the-top sex. Gen already had the door open.
When they stepped inside, Lyda moved past them, toward the living room. Dropping the keys she'd taken from Gen onto the side table, she dropped into a wing-backed chair. As she placed the cane at her side, Noah and Gen came to her, hand in hand. They sank to their knees before her that way. Gen remembered the first time she'd knelt to Lyda, struggling with what it meant. Now it was pure instinct and desire.
"I'll watch the two of you first." Lyda's voice was low, the command unmistakable, running a thrill up Gen's spine. "Noah, she's yours right now. All yours. You fuck her exactly the way you've been wanting since you laced her up tonight. And Gen...when you don't think you can hold back anymore, you ask him for permission."
Lyda had never placed that power in Noah's hands. Gen sensed his surprise, his flicker of uncertainty. But then his gaze slid over to her. Giving him a look under her lashes she intended to be a sexual challenge, bringing him right to the end of a frayed leash, she tipped forward, sank onto her elbows, leaving her hips high in the air. She adjusted her knees wide, the points of her heels facing upward. Adding to the whole erotic quotient, she wrapped both her hands around Lyda's right ankle, her forehead against the tip of Lyda's shoe. She was at both their mercy.
Noah's hand slid along her calf, caressed the muscle. Taking hold of her foot, he slid off one heel, then the other. As she shivered, he teased her ankle with light caresses. Her pussy got wetter.
"She's dripping on the carpet, Mistress."
"Take care of the mess you've made, then."
Gen heard him slip the buckle of his belt, the whisper of the zipper of the slacks parting. Then his hands were on her ass.
"Beg him, Gen."
"Please, Noah. Please fuck me."
He parted her buttocks, played with her rim, then his thumbs dipped into that vat of wetness between her legs. "Please..." She moaned as he rubbed. She knew he was hard as a rock. Knew he was tormenting her further, getting off on it. She gripped Lyda's ankle, trying not to cut off circulation.
Noah straightened, shifting his grip to her hair. His fingers tightened into a scalp-pulling hold as he slowly, slowly brought her head up until she was staring into Lyda's intent expression. She had that faintly cruel, queen-on-her-throne look, feeding off Gen's denial, her frustrated arousal, like a drug available only to royalty.
"She's dying for your cock, Noah. Do it."
Gen screamed as Noah shoved into her all at once, a hard thrust that stretched her unused tissues. It hurt but it felt so, so good. He kept the hold on her hair, forcing her to stare into Lyda's face, so their Mistress could see every expression as he let loose just as she'd given him permission to do. He fucked Gen like a man who'd been nursing a hard-on for weeks, dreaming about the women who were within arm's reach but inaccessible. He fucked her in a way that said it went beyond that, that the need and cravings building all these weeks had as much to do with confirming they were alive, connected, together, still part of him, as anything else.
Similar emotions unfolded in her as he kept going, became even more savage, perhaps fighting the demons inside him that said he wasn't allowed to feel that way. It was as if he was trying to fuck them into silence. When he let go of her hair and covered her, wrapping his arm around her chest, forcing her back down to her elbows as if they were both genuflecting to Lyda while he hammered Gen's cunt before her, Gen kept one hand on Lyda's ankle but gripped his forearm, digging in her nails.
"I'm here...we're here..." It was like the Mine, ours, wasn't it? The same message. Her clit was throbbing, and each time his testicles slapped against it, she thrummed with the intensity. She wanted to come. Wanted to come for him, for Lyda. Yet...
"Help...Noah, please..."
"God, yes," he muttered.
It wasn't a surprise to her that he understood, even with the two of them shaking, so close to that edge. When he pulled back out, she even made a heartfelt whimper that was echoed by a violent clench in her pussy. She was so close to climax.
Noah rose on his knees behind her. Gen could only imagine the delicious picture he made, cock stiff, glistening with her juices. His hand slid from her hair, up the slope of her back, to rest on her hip. "We want to give our Mistress pleasure first," he said.
Gen lifted her head to see Lyda lick her lips, gaze shifting between the two of them. "What if that's not what I want? You think I'll let my cunt run the show any more than I'll let the two of you run it?"
"No Mistress." Noah shook his head. "We just... It needs to be...all of us. Together."
"Together," Gen whispered, pressing her lips against Lyda's ankle.
Chapter Sixteen
Lyda bent forward, touching Gen's back. Gen thought she also reached out, grazed Noah's face, or perhaps the slope of his chest, rising and falling with his exertions, the sexual fervor driving him.
"All right," their Mistress said. "But you two better not think this is going to become a habit. Tuck yourself back into those slacks and take Gen to my bed, Noah. On her back. Make her comfortable, because we're going to use her hard."
Gen straightened at that delicious threat, crooking her arm around Noah's neck as he scooped her off the floor. She could have walked, but now that they'd gained Lyda's acquiescence, they wanted to follow everything she demanded. He laid her on the bed, stepped back, those intent eyes resting on her as they waited on their Mistress, making her way down the hall. When she came into the bedroom, she moved to the edge of the bed. Just like Noah, she lingered on Gen's breasts and hips, her sex, all enhanced by the waist cincher. Gen felt like a visual feast, the two of them devouring her.
"I may make you walk around in one of those all the time," Lyda observed. "I don't think Noah would object. But I'd have to keep his cock in a chastity cage to teach him to deal with it without a perpetual hard-on. Can't have his brains in his cock all the time."
"I'm not seeing the downside," Gen responded breathlessly, her gaze sliding down Noah to the sizeable object of the discussion, straining beneath the slacks.
"Hmm." Lyda pivoted toward Noah. "I want my corset off."
Noah helped Lyda slide off the bolero jacket, then unhooked the corset. Since Lyda's back was to Gen, she saw the garment loosen. When he peeled it off her body, Lyda slid her arms under his and stepped into him. Gen noticed her left ankle was trembling, but Noah did too, his arms circling their Mistress in response, holding her up. Other than that, he remained still as her hands roved across his back, down, and took what seemed to be a very firm grip on his ass.
"I'd forgotten how very nice it is to touch you," Lyda said. Noah put his face into her throat, pressing his lips there. Lyda tilted her head, giving him access, and she stroked his hair, releasing the clasp so the glory of that russet mane spilled across his shoulders. Then her hands were between them, loosening his tie, stripping it out of its knot and letting it lie along either panel of his shirt as she unbuttoned it. Gen had seen Noah's bare chest plenty of times, but watching Lyda revealing it an inch at a time made it a whole new experience. Lyda caught both ends of the tie, twisted and held them against his throat, her knuckles pressed into his flesh beneath it.
"You knew you wouldn't survive if you got us out of the car first."
If Noah was startled by the abrupt shift, he rallied fast, jaw tightening. "No, I didn't know. I hoped I would live. But your lives were more important to me than mine."
Lyda brushed her knuckles up his throat, to his jaw. "That's the first time you've done that," she observed, a husky whisper. "In the past, you would have simply said our lives were more important than yours."
His eyes flickered, puzzled. Gen had caught it as well, though. Those two words "to me" were actually quite significant. A man might give his life for a stranger because of moment of conscience, a selfless act. Whereas a person sacrificed his life for a loved one bec
ause there was simply no other choice, that very personal, unique connection of love trumping any other consideration of personal value. Because that person being saved was theirs. Their personal, unique person, to watch over, to sacrifice oneself for.
To the person saved, it might not really matter why the person had done it, but in this case, the distinction was extremely important to the two people saved. Gen didn't want to put too much into it, but Lyda pointing it out suggested a further cause for hope, for the future they had together.
With her usual intuition, though, Lyda left it there. She'd turned to other matters. Letting the tie drop to the floor, she pushed his shirt off, hands caressing the roundest part of his shoulders, the muscle groups in his arms, wandering over his pectorals, down to his abdomen to unhook his slacks. "You dressed up for me, didn't you?"
"Yes Mistress."
"Did you put cologne on your balls?" She pressed her bare breasts against his chest then and pushed his slacks down herself, cupping his ass anew. Noah's eyes closed, his hands gripping her waist. Gen savored the beautiful, vulnerable pose.
"Yes," he said.
"Tease. Take the rest of it off."
Lyda stepped back as he complied. While he did, she tugged down the zipper of her skirt, wiggled out of it, let it drop. The swatch of panties followed. Now only Gen wore anything, but the way they both turned to her, their avid gazes drinking in the way she was cinched in the middle like a wrapped piece of candy, she thought Lyda might actually not ever let her wear anything else in the house.
Noah lifted Lyda onto the bed. When she was on it on all fours, she gave him a teasing look over her shoulder. His grimace of near pain amused her as she slid between Gen's legs like a female cat stalking dinner. She dropped a kiss on Gen's mound, making her quiver, then eased her weight fully onto her, pressing her palms on either side of her shoulders.
It speared Gen with desire, longing and a love so strong, tears stung her eyes.
"Look at me, Gen. Let me see what you're thinking."
She lifted her lashes. She started to reach up, but Lyda shook her head. "Un-unh. Over your head. I want to see you stretched out under me, all mine, legs spread, arms out of the way. Full submission, baby girl. Prove who your Mistress is. Say it."