Nothing childish about what had been built beneath this one. A cage, as long and wide as the mattress, sturdy enough to also serve as the frame of the bed. The six-inch spaced bars looked like steel. A twin mattress inside the cage ran parallel with the long side of the bed. It was a freaking cage.
“I don’t want to do that.”
“It’s not intended for you.” Lyda said it calmly enough to soothe Gen’s nerves. Until she realized the implication.
When Lyda pointed to the enclosure, Noah knelt and rolled gracefully into it. He stretched out on his stomach, bending one leg up and shifting his hips in a way that had his ass flexing as he adjusted to his preferred sleeping position on the mattress. Given that he was entirely naked and seemed to want to sleep on top of the covers, he looked like a Playgirl centerfold. She wasn’t sure Playgirl got into bondage, though. She was trying to stay appalled, but when his heavy-lidded brown eyes slid over her with lazy erotic pleasure, she remembered comparing him to a sleepy wolf.
Letting go of Gen, Lyda leaned over to close the cage door. Gen noticed the latch had a padlock eye, but it didn’t contain a padlock. Noah could get out on his own if needed, which made her feel somewhat better. Reaching through the bars, Lyda tousled Noah’s long hair. His eyes were already closed again, and when he grunted at the attention, she snorted. “Typical post-orgasmic male. Useless.”
She said it fondly, rising to face Gen. Pressing her fingers to her own lips, Lyda laid the transposed kiss on Gen’s forehead. “Bathroom’s down the hall. I have a guest bedroom next to it, or you can come back to bed with me.”
Giving her a direct look, Lyda dropped the robe. As she stepped onto the short set of steps that led up to the bed, Gen noticed Noah’s eyes opened again. He took his fill of his Mistress naked, and once she’d ascended to the bed, he slid a hand out between the bars to snag the robe. He reeled it in until he had it in a silken puddle by his pillow, close enough he could dream with her scent in his nose.
“You get any drool or other disgusting male fluids on that, I will cut off your balls with my pruning shears.”
He let out a snuffled sound that could have been a chuckle.
Lyda stretched out her lithe body to turn off the bed lamp. A nightlight, shaped like a porcelain orchid, glowed by the antique dresser. Then she turned on her side, facing away from Gen. The cover was off her bare shoulder, her hair loose along the pillow.
Gen found herself several steps closer to the bed, but she wasn’t sure of her intent. Her gaze went between the woman on the bed and the man beneath it. If Lyda extended her hand over edge of the mattress, Noah could reach through the bars and clasp her slim fingers, if she so desired. The appeal of that thought disturbed Gen. Then she felt Noah’s fingers slide over her foot, take a loose grip on her ankle, stroke. Soothing.
“Why a cage?” she asked softly.
“Because it underscores that he’s in my care,” Lyda answered for him. “That he can trust my ownership, whether it’s simply for a night or for a longer period. And because it fucking turns me on to see my sub locked up that way.”
Noah gave that half chuckle, an amused sound of agreement. Gen turned her gaze down to him. “What does it do for…you?”
He tilted his head up, meeting her gaze with those distracting brown eyes. “Come inside and find out,” he said simply.
Instead she slid her foot from his grasp and retreated, mumbling something about the bathroom.
Lyda had an appreciation for top-of-the-line fixtures. Gen had briefly glimpsed the master bath, and seen a shower with multiple sprayers and corner benches, the area large enough to double as a steam room. There was a smaller version of that in the guest bath. The walls and tile were white, but she’d highlighted the blank canvas with a spray of purple and yellow flowers over the commode. Along the side of the wide mirror, she had a trio of colorful, whimsical watercolors of mermaids.
Gen studied the pictures. Lyda’s reserved humor came in sporadic flashes, but like the touches of color in this room, that gave it more of an impact.
Gen pulled a makeup wipe from the beauty products in a sample basket on the counter. Worrying about being seen without makeup seemed pointless after how vulnerable she’d made herself tonight. Lyda had come out of the bedroom to do her “reading” without makeup, dressed for bed, but of course with or without makeup, she was striking. The force of her personality overrode any embellishment.
Gen cupped her hands over her face. She inhaled Lyda’s damp pussy, the fragrance lingering in her nose, on her lips, her cheeks. She was reluctant to wash it away, but she did.
Leaving the bathroom, she found the guest bedroom. The white spread had fine needlepoint depicting sprays of greenery. Well-tended house plants clustered in the corner, next to a rocker with a stuffed white bear in it. The bear was new enough to suggest it wasn’t a cherished childhood memento, so she wondered how Lyda had acquired it and why she kept it, though it added a further touch of comfort to an already welcoming room. Lyda had said she could stay in here.
Or she could get her clothes, find her keys, leave. They wouldn’t stop her.
Instead, she wandered down the hall, closer to the main bedroom, though she paused at Lyda’s home office. A laptop on the desk, a printer and router, the usual things. There was also a TV in there, a shelf of books and a portable heater for winter, a necessity in a drafty older house to cut down on heating bills. Though it had looked as if Lyda had a main office out by the greenhouse, Gen knew running one’s own business successfully was more than a nine-to-five endeavor, something she appreciated even more now that M had increased Gen’s involvement in the running of Tea Leaves.
She was back at the entrance to the master bedroom. The mistress bedroom. A weak joke, underscoring her anxiety. The nightlight showed Noah sprawled on his stomach, pillow bunched under the curl of his arms, Lyda’s robe a neat swirl under his elbow.
His breath seemed even. She couldn’t tell if Lyda slept, but as Gen circled to the other side of the bed, she hesitated. She’d been invited earlier, but it felt wrong to simply slip in the bed with Lyda, now that her eyes were closed. She shouldn’t be intimidated by her. She was just a woman, like Gen, or Chloe…
No, she wasn’t like them. She was like Marguerite, a different classification. Something inside Gen recognized it and responded accordingly. That would bear some thinking about. She really should go home.
“Are you sleeping in that dress?”
Lyda’s eyes were half-slits, studying her. Sliding her hand toward Gen, she hooked the covers, flipped them back. “Take it all off, rabbit. Come to bed.”
Gen turned to the closet. She slipped the dress off, hesitating when she saw her thong panties hanging over the knob. Lyda must have been carrying them in her robe pocket.
Even with a handy vibrator, Gen was usually a one-orgasm-a-week kind of girl. It seemed impossible that thinking of Lyda handling her underwear, marked by her arousal, could stir her up again. Lyda was sleepy, though. There wouldn’t be anything more happening tonight. Take a breath.
Tucking the thong inside the dress and hooking both on the closet knob, Gen turned back to the bed. She used the steps on that side to crawl onto the mattress, slide under the covers. She hadn’t slept with anyone since her second husband. Well, except the night before Chloe’s wedding, when Chloe and several of her early female guests had dog-piled onto Gen’s bed, talking into the wee hours of the morning. Chloe had eventually fallen asleep there, arm wrapped around Gen as she slept, that fond affection that Chloe did so well. This was very different.
Lyda slid closer, propping herself on her elbow and pushing Gen to her back so she could gaze down at her. Lyda cupped the side of her face, her fingers drifting along Gen’s jaw, down her throat, her sternum.
“Ass sore, rabbit?”
“A little.”
“I could see the marks I left on it when you undressed. I liked that.” Lyda folded back the covers so she could see all of Gen. She watched the
Mistress gaze at her body, fingertips trailing Gen’s rib cage below her breast, circling over her stomach, teasing her hip bones. She was being explored. Lyda stroked her knuckles over Gen’s hip, her upper thigh. When she exerted pressure on it, Gen opened her legs without thought. The approving murmur made Gen tremble. Inside and out.
Lyda didn’t touch cunt or nipples, barely grazed Gen’s breasts at all. She stroked her arms and upper thighs, inside her thighs, high enough to caress the tender pockets on either side of her pussy. Walking her short-nailed fingers over Gen’s mound, Lyda played with her navel.
Then Lyda lowered her head and put her mouth on all those same places.
Gen’s breath accelerated, her body moving restlessly. She bit back a moan, not wanting to disturb the hushed charge in the air. Was Noah awake and listening to the shift of the box springs above him, wishing he could be part of this, watch? She bet he was, as much as she wagered that was a vital component of Lyda’s pleasure, denying him the view to goad his arousal, while stoking Gen’s.
“You thought about going into the cage, didn’t you?” A seductive whisper.
“No. Yes…but it’s not for me.”
“But it’s a nice fantasy.” Lyda kissed the valley between her breasts. Gen had kept her hands at her sides, thinking Lyda would prefer that, but she couldn’t resist sliding her fingers through her hair now. Lyda didn’t stop her, and Gen thought nothing had ever felt so lovely as those silken locks sliding over her fingers, over her breasts. “Would you like to know how I imagine it, Gen?”
“Yes.” She was whispering too. Lyda discovered more of her with mouth and fingertips, at the leisurely pace of someone getting used to a new treasured toy.
“You, captured. Here. Belonging to me, like a pet in truth. Enclosed, safe. Owned. You can sleep in peace, nothing to do, to think, no actions to take that I don’t command. Not because you’re helpless.” Lyda lifted her head, pinned her with that intent gaze. “But because the one thing a strong submissive deserves and needs is a safe way to surrender all control.”
“There is no such thing.”
“Yes, there is.” Lyda slid her leg over Gen’s, pressing her knee against her pussy so Gen arched at the pressure. She swallowed a cry as Lyda rose on both knees and then slipped her hands under Gen’s buttocks to lift her up to ride the column of her thigh.
“Hands open and above your head.”
Gen complied, though it was hard to stop touching Lyda’s hair. Her legs were shifting even more impatiently at the flexing pressure of Lyda’s leg against her pussy.
“All nice and wet again. I want your lovely gush of come to mark my sheets, Gen. Noah will wash them tomorrow, though I’ll bet our bad boy will smell them first, rub them against his body.”
A needy noise broke free from Gen’s throat as Lyda put her body fully between Gen’s thighs, stretching out upon her to bring naked flesh to naked flesh, her breasts brushing Gen’s, hips pressing her thighs wider.
“Have you wondered how two women have sex, Gen? It’s not about dildos or strap-ons, though those can be plenty of fun. And no mouth between your thighs, though that’s a pleasure I’ll take from you again, when I wish. Tell me what you feel.”
“Your legs…against my thighs. Your body, pressing mine down. Your breasts, your smell…your hair, falling against my face and shoulders. I love your hair. Everywhere you are against me…it’s like I’m turning into flame.”
“And there she is, a quiet, earnest poet when the world is still enough for her to whisper her sweet, tender thoughts.”
The words had come without thought. Gen’s moment of embarrassed regret for not suppressing them evaporated into wonder as Lyda smiled down at her, silver eyes luminescent. “Women tend to experience one another as a whole body, because it’s not just about our pussies. I love feeling you squirm beneath me. Looking at your fingers, curling and uncurling, wanting to touch me. Next time I’m at Tea Leaves, watching you prepare tea or take a phone order, I’ll stare at your hands and remember this moment. When you speak, I’ll think of how your lips are parted now, wet like your cunt.”
Her labia and clit slid against Gen’s, an indescribable feeling of pleasure. Gen moaned again, her hips lifting. “It’s like the metronome, only we set our own music this time. Move with me, Gen. I want you to sing for me. Lift your chin.”
Gen did so, and another shuddering sigh broke from her lips as Lyda kissed her neck, nipped her breasts. Then she pressed her own against Gen’s, an intriguing weight, the drag of the nipples inspiring Gen to return the favor. Lyda’s hips worked against her, clit rubbing clit. Then bearing down, she slid her wet labia over Gen’s with slick purpose. Gen wanted to raise her legs, lock them around Lyda.
“Keep them down. I like seeing you spread out all helpless like this. Mine to do whatever I want with. You’re gorgeous.”
Tangling her fingers in Gen’s hair, she yanked, arching Gen’s throat so she could take a harder bite out of it. Gen cried out, pure need. Lyda slid an arm beneath her shoulder blades, pulled her off the pillow enough she could keep her cunt rubbing against Gen’s as she wrapped her mouth around a nipple. She gripped the curve, squeezing so she could suckle it more deeply. Gen’s back bowed into an impossible crescent to help Lyda do as she wished. “Oh God…”
“You’re so beautiful.” Lyda lifted her upper body then, bracing her hands on either side of Gen’s ribs, caging her as she began to work against her with greater purpose, her lips wet where she’d tasted Gen’s flesh. Her breasts trembled with her rhythmic movement, upper body rolling in sinuous display. Gen had a flash of how she looked from behind, the heart-shaped ass pumping as if she was fucking Gen like a man. But she was, wasn’t she? Lyda was drawing in every sensation through her eyes, through everywhere their bodies touched, as much as where their genitals made contact. Gen was pushing against her, no longer guided by anything but desire.
“Oh…God…I’m going to come…”
Lyda’s eyes caught flame, her mouth tightening. “Come for me, Gen.”
Gen clenched her hands into fists on the pillow, not able to leave them loose as the orgasm took her. Lyda’s head dropped back just as Gen was coming down, and Gen felt the spasm through the Mistress’s cunt as they found a climax together, hips bumping, breath sighing out in long moans, bed rocking with the force of their need.
At the height of their chorus of pleasured release, Lyda captured one of Gen’s hands, guiding it down to her side, a nonverbal direction to have Gen grip her hips, press her fingers into Lyda’s buttocks to add to the friction. And then, as the tide ebbed, Lyda let her stay that way a precious moment, so Gen could explore the beauty of those pale curves. God, Lyda had a wonderful ass. Gen slid her fingers over the taut flanks of a sensual female animal, tracing her upper thighs. Lyda had kept one hand tangled with hers, so Gen could also make tiny strokes of her knuckles.
Lyda kissed between Gen’s breasts, to her navel and below. Gen sucked in a cry as her clit was suckled, her labia licked. Lyda pressed her palm against the sheets.
“A nice puddle there. That’s my good girl.”
She’d never though it erotic. Lyda made her feel like it was incredibly so. She shifted next to Gen, gathered her in her arms, spooning against Gen’s back, her arm over her waist, the other tangled with her hand up near her head. “Noah,” Lyda said in a conversational voice, “Is your cock hard?”
“Yes Mistress.” His muffled voice was rough, sending a little ripple through Gen. In one night, these two had tripled her normal libido, with no signs of it decreasing.
“How hard?”
“Really fucking hard, Mistress.”
“You wish I’d let you take care of that, don’t you?”
The unspoken yes was like a primal shout, so Gen was impressed with his actual response. “Whatever my Mistress wants is what I wish.”
“Remember that next time you steal a kiss without permission. Go to sleep, Noah. And if you have any wet dreams, you’ll spend tomo
rrow watering stock with a dildo strapped up your ass.”
“Yes Mistress.” He sounded resigned, but still hugely aroused. Gen was beginning to realize the threats contributed to that. At least for Noah’s form of submission.
She wondered how she was going to deal with thinking about this in the morning, but she was too exhausted to worry. Her mind drifted back to what Lyda had said about the cage. For just a moment, she almost understood why Lyda had described it the way she had. Enclosed, safe. Owned.
In such a state, she could just…sleep.
* * * * *
She hadn’t expected to sleep so deeply in an unfamiliar place, but sexual repletion had that effect. The bed was as comfortable as a nest, and she’d fallen asleep still grasping Lyda’s hand. Waking without that connection was the only thing that felt off. At least in that first moment.
Lifting her head, she saw a note tented on the side table. A water glass filled with buttonlike flowers in white and pink sat next to it. Grab yourself a shower in the guest bath if you’d like. Breakfast is in the oven. I’m in the nursery whenever you feel up to saying good morning. I have your car key.
“Bitch,” Gen muttered without rancor. Lyda had obviously anticipated her wanting to slink away to think about all of this, discomfited about facing those with whom she’d committed the crime, so to speak.
Lyda’s robe hung on the back of the bedroom door. Gen’s dress was gone. While it seemed silly for her to worry about covering herself, things were always different in the light of day. After a brief hesitation, she slid the robe onto her shoulders, bemused by how Lyda’s scent both eased and tightened things.
In the guest bathroom, a fluffy towel waited for her, tied with a sprig of rosemary. Her dress had been hung on a rack, and her underwear was folded on the counter on top of a nursery T-shirt. Her clothes, even her underwear, had been cleaned. She glanced at the clock. It was only eight a.m. Lyda had done all of this while she slept?
She wasn’t the type comfortable with being waited upon. Still, she rubbed the rosemary, lifting her fingers to inhale the pungent, pleasant aroma. When she removed the robe, she glanced at herself in the mirror. She saw abrasions on the inside of her thighs from Noah’s jaw rasping against her there. A slight turn showed her Lyda’s punishment had left faint marks. She ran her fingers over them, wondering at the erotic tingle she felt.
Nature of Desire 8 - Divine solace Page 16