Nature of Desire 8 - Divine solace

by Hill, Joey W.

  She brought Gen to sit on the step next to her then, the two of them leaning against the door. Lyda had an arm around Gen’s shoulders, fingers caressing the top of her breast. “So that’s that. You’re now inside our crazy little world. How does dinner sound?”

  Lyda had been inside this story for a while, and though the events of the day may have stressed her out, apparently she was ready to turn things in a different direction. When Lyda’s thumb teased her nipple, a spiral of arousal disrupted Gen’s pensiveness, increasing when Lyda’s eyes heated. Despite the turmoil in Gen’s mind, her own body was obviously ready to make that same turn. “That’s a nice, tight little point there. I think you need the distraction. We all do. But first you’re going to need food. Both of you.” Lyda kept stroking, tweaking, as Gen did her best not to squirm.

  “He’s going to need me to be harsh tonight,” their Mistress mused. “I’m in the mood to take you along for the same ride, since I’ve been thinking about you ever since your visit this morning. I want to run you both into the fucking ground.”

  “So we just…carry on.” Gen pushed the response past the anticipatory quake Lyda was causing through word and gesture.

  “Forward is the only way you ever get anywhere.” Lyda rose. “Do you want to tell me why I have a voicemail from Marguerite, wanting to talk to me about you?”

  Oh crap. “I…we can talk about it later. It’s nothing, I’m sure. M sees me spending more time with you, and she’s a good friend. She’s protective.” After Gen’s agitated display earlier, she was sure Marguerite was going to reinforce more of what she and Lyda had already done the Vulcan mind meld over. Sometimes good friends, especially when one of them was a formidable Domme, could be a pain in the ass. She was sure M wouldn’t tell Lyda about the kiss. That was up to Gen. Or Lyda, apparently.

  “Hmm. Probably. But that’s not why you just turned the color of a tomato.” Lyda’s eyes had gone to that laser sharpness. “You’re lying to me, Gen, which isn’t a good idea. Particularly not in my present mood. Didn’t I tell you this morning that you always keep your legs open when you’re around me, just the two of us?”

  Sexual tension spiked right into Gen’s emotional quagmire. The woman had an uncanny way of doing that.

  Gen opened her knees, pressing her palms against the cool concrete step. Stepping forward, Lyda put a hand right up under the skirt, just as she’d done earlier in the locker room. This time, though, she found her way beneath the panties and pushed two fingers in to the base knuckle without hesitation, making Gen gasp.

  “Nice and wet. Just from me playing with your nipple. Or maybe something else has you simmering. Why did you blush, Gen? What happened with Marguerite? Make me ask you once more, you won’t like what I’ll do next.”

  “I asked her to kiss me.” Gen bit back a cry as Lyda sent a jolt of sensation to her core. Her nipples tingled like they’d been hit with an electric charge. “I was trying…to make sure…it wasn’t just any Mistress.”

  “Hmm. What was the verdict?” Another scissoring of Lyda’s fingers made Gen fight not to writhe. Lyda’s face was close, but her expression made her as remote as a queen on a throne. The concrete temperature wasn’t doing anything to calm Gen’s blood, especially when Lyda gave her clit a tug.

  “It’s you. You make me feel…different.” Gen’s throat ached. “I would have told you right off, but Noah…”

  “Bullshit. You weren’t going to tell me. Why?”

  Gen yelped at the next wave of sensation. God, what was she doing with her hand? “I didn’t know how you’d react. If you’d laugh at me, or withdraw, or…not react at all.”

  Lyda sighed. “One sub thinks I owe him nothing, that I can back over him with a truck if I want. Another keeps trying to force emotional validation to ensure she’s not on quicksand. Some capricious goddess is testing me. Or trying to piss me off.”

  Withdrawing her fingers, she licked at the pads while Gen tried to get her breath. “Don’t you dare close those legs. You stay there and let that cunt that belongs to me throb. We’re done with all the overthinking tonight.”

  She disappeared into the house. Gen had no time to unscramble her thoughts before she returned, holding something behind her back. “Come up here onto the porch. Bend over and hold your ankles. Close your eyes.”

  The woman’s ability to shift gears was as unsettling as the fact Gen was obeying. If she’d had the ability to form coherent words she would have told Lyda the kiss Marguerite had given her had woken a neon sign in her loins, blinking bright and pointing right at Lyda. But maybe she had just told her that, in a different way.

  She bent over, gripped her ankles. Lyda tucked the hem of her skirt into the waist band and then pulled Gen’s panties to her thighs. Gen made a tiny noise of protest as a dildo was worked into pussy. And not just there. Her fingers clutched her ankles as she realized it was dual-headed. Lyda slid the shorter, lubricated plug into her anus. Gen groaned with frustrated pleasure as Lyda cinched it all into place. Done in a blink, efficient as only a Domme who’d done it plenty of times could be.

  “Straighten up slow. There we go.” Gen jolted as the two items started to strum with a low level vibration in both orifices, radiating through every erogenous zone.

  Stepping back, Lyda leveled that look that said she was the head bitch in charge and dead certain to stay that way. “I’m hungry. You’re cooking dinner tonight. You and Noah both.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lyda had brought home Chinese takeout, but she was as exacting about her food presentation as a gourmet chef. She wanted it on a certain set of plates. The rice had to be aligned at a ten o’clock position from the entrée—and shaped in an oblong pile. The silverware required polishing with a hand towel first.

  Tasks that weren’t too difficult, except when wearing a vibrator that pushed Gen beyond motor control. She came the first time while shining a fork. She grabbed the cabinet so her knees didn’t buckle. Noah shifted against her, using his body to sandwich her between it and him, steady her. She turned her face into his bare chest as she screamed through it.

  Thanks to Lyda’s equal attention, Noah couldn’t use his hands to balance her.

  Lyda had made it clear Noah needed a harsher Mistress tonight, and she was more than up to the task. When Lyda released him from the cage, she’d told him brusquely to meet her downstairs in fifteen minutes, and murmured something to him Gen hadn’t been able to catch. Whatever it was had caused Noah’s gaze to flick over her in an intriguing—and disturbing—way.

  However, once he came downstairs, Lyda brought him to the living room and had him kneel, put his forehead to the floor. While Gen watched from the door—holding onto the frame, biting her lip to manage the waves of sensation caused by the vibrator—Lyda pushed a lubricated dildo up his ass as well. The phallus had an additional cock harness piece she secured around the base and neck of his shaft. The collar around the corona contained a bullet vibrator, stimulating the base of the glans in a way sure to steal his coordination.

  Making him straighten to his knees, she’d buckled a collar on his throat. With her gaze trained on his lowered eyes, the set mouth, she’d added cuffs to his wrists and attached a spreader bar to them and the collar. Now he was yoked like an oxen. To pick up a cup of wine, a plate, he had to bend his knees and carefully maneuver, or risk the unthinkable infraction of knocking something over or off the counter.

  Yes, it was punishment, but Gen soon realized it wasn’t humiliation. How exacting and focused he had to be on his movements seemed an extension of the centering effect the cage had provided him. He was intensely aroused in no time, yet emotionally much more like his usual self.

  Seeing him naked except for the harness, his natural grace hampered by the spreader bar but requiring a lot of flexing muscle to obey their Mistress’s commands, only served to tip Gen closer to another climax. As far as that first one, she didn’t know if Lyda had instructed him to hold her up, or he’d just anticipated the n
eed, since even when Noah was being punished, he and Lyda seemed to work together to watch over Gen. The same way she and Lyda did to Noah.

  And, point in fact, the way Gen and Noah did for Lyda. Though it might seem like she needed a lot less care than the two of them, Gen’s mind was working that issue, and she suspected what they were doing right now fulfilled Lyda’s needs, soothing any agitation this day had caused her with the balm of their submission.

  Lyda’s appearance only added to the lust saturating the environment. She’d changed into another short robe. This one was sheer gray gauze except for the satin ribbon hem and edgings. As the fabric floated around her, she revealed tempting shadows of her naked, inaccessible body. Sitting at the head of her dining room table now, she had a graceful leg hooked over the carved arm of the chair. The loose neckline highlighted the full crescents of her breasts. Occasionally she let her fingers drift down to stroke between her legs. They couldn’t see below the table, denied the view.

  Gen didn’t have to wonder if it was all driving Noah as wild as it was her. He looked like he was carrying a steel piling between his legs, whereas her arousal was free flowing down her thighs, things Lyda noticed and commented upon with crude pleasure, making them both crazier.

  Lyda had been right about the whole thinking thing. There was no room in Gen’s mind for anything but clumsily coordinating her movements with Noah’s, the two of them working together to prepare the food the way Lyda instructed. Just one setting. Lyda wasn’t letting them eat first, calmly stating they were her entertainment.

  When Gen put the plate before her, her hand trembling under the sensual duress, Lyda motioned to the floor. “Kneel here. Forehead touching the wood floor, ass in the air. Noah, stay where you are.”

  When Gen complied, Lyda pulled the dual-headed vibrator free, slow and provocative, making Gen moan. “You’re close to coming again, aren’t you? Shameless girl. And you came the last time without my permission. I obviously need to make it clear who’s in charge here.”

  Gen cried out as a spatula hit her backside. Lyda had pulled the metal utensil out of the pan that had the spring rolls and fried rice in it, so Gen felt the splatter of warm oil and what was probably rice slide down her buttock. The spatula had slats in it that stung like hell. “Now you’ve made a mess to clean up.” Lyda tsked. “Noah, kneel behind her and take care of that.”

  With her head down, Gen saw him move into place. With his arms bound shoulder height, he had to tighten thigh and stomach muscles in a delicious way to lower himself to the floor, lean over Gen. When his mouth closed over Gen’s flesh, she could feel him quivering from the strain. Or maybe that was because of the state Lyda had inflicted on them both. Her breath became more erratic as he licked off the oil, ate the bits of rice. From the sound of a buckle being unfastened, and his sudden jerk, Gen suspected their Mistress had removed his cock harness and dildo also.

  “That’s plenty. Your tongue is a napkin, not her fucktoy. Not until I say. Go lie on your back on the living room floor.”

  Lyda curled her hand in Gen’s hair, pulling her back up to her knees. She held her so Gen was staring at Noah, watching him kneel and then roll to his hip and back. He managed it with some difficulty, probably due more to the turgid state of his cock than navigating with a spreader bar. He was agile enough to navigate seas rough or calm. If only he could develop that same balance in his head.

  Fortunately, Lyda had the right strategy to get them thinking about other things.

  “Gen, go straddle his face and take his cock in your mouth. I want to watch him eat your pussy while you go down on him. You can come whenever you’re ready, but he has to wait for me to give him permission. You keep sucking his cock while you climax. Don’t let up until I say stop.”

  Gen gave her a desperate look. “Mistress—”

  “I’m not in the mood for talking. Unless you’re in pain or you need the bathroom, I only want to hear more of those sexy little moans or pleading whimpers.”

  Lyda’s stare made Gen drop her own gaze to the floor. How on earth had she reached the point where all of this felt so…right? But she’d known it today when she’d kissed Marguerite. She’d reached a turning point. She definitely wasn’t as extreme as Noah, but she responded to Lyda in ways that were strangely liberating and overwhelming. This, a session-like moment, felt perfectly right. Just like sitting with Lyda on the stoop, talking like equals about Noah’s well-being, had. Was that how it worked, figuring it out over time, the power exchange?

  “Do I need Marguerite here to get you to move your ass, Gen?”

  Gen started as the spatula hit her thigh. Though she gave Lyda a narrow look for the verbal jab, it was a surreptitious one, and she scampered to do her bidding before Lyda could think of another way to stretch her to breaking. The woman probably had a rack hidden somewhere to make the thought literal.

  Lyda wasn’t letting her off the hook for that nasty look, though. When Gen glanced her way again, Lyda’s expression froze her in place, reminding her she hadn’t answered. She dropped her gaze again. “No, ma’am.”

  “Better. Do what I told you to do.”

  Gen straddled Noah’s face, another little quake going through her at the proximity of his mouth to her pussy, the vivid memory of what he could do with his tongue, and the intent, hungry look in his eyes. She planted her knees on either side of his face, congratulating herself for not landing on him in an uncoordinated heap.

  She slowed herself down as she stretched out over his body, aware Lyda wanted to savor the visual. Noah turned his head to nuzzle her inner thigh, making her pussy throb, anticipating. She forced herself not to wiggle, which would be a blatant attempt to direct his mouth to where she wanted it. But Lyda took care of that.

  “Don’t play with your food, Noah. Eat her pussy, and be ruthless about it. I want her begging for mercy.”

  Gen was realizing the word “ruthless” was some kind of trigger for Noah, one with a devastating impact on a woman’s senses. He immediately turned that clever mouth and tongue stud on Gen in a way that had her fighting to give him a tenth of the screaming roller coaster ride he was giving her. Screaming was the key word there. He took her up to the highest peak in a matter of seconds and pushed her over.

  When she was finally gasping through the lingering vibrations of that climax, squirming against his face, she told herself that wasn’t so impressive, given how aroused she already was.

  But then he did it twice more.

  He called the first time a “hummingbird”, the second time “rain storm”. If she’d had any brain cells left she might have joked at the Kung Fu of it all, but after the third time she was ready to be dubbed Grasshopper and become a slavish devotee to that mouth.

  He knew how to back off, calm down those jittering nerve endings, and restart them. He taught her every part of a woman’s cunt could be a starting line for a climax, that it didn’t begin and end with the clit. He used that knowledge to obey Lyda’s demand for ruthlessness. The third orgasm was a hard, punishing torment that made Gen’s vision gray. Just as Lyda predicted, it had Gen crying for mercy.

  Lyda still made him do it to her one more time.

  Gen came down from that one trembling, tears running down her face. Actually “coming down” was a misnomer. She’d started out so depleted, she’d been unable to do anything but press flat against him and moan through the stimulation, beginning to end, her pussy at the mercy of his mouth. Thank God Noah was back to nuzzling her thighs, Lyda at last giving her a break.

  She’d tried her best to torment Noah the same way, but her biggest accomplishment had been keeping her mouth moving on him throughout all of it. She’d sucked that thick shaft deep, shrieking like a banshee against his flesh. Though she’d managed not to bite him during the throes of orgasm, she’d scored him, reveling in the way his thighs twitched, hips kicking him deeper into her mouth.

  Now she cradled his balls and kneaded them, stroked his perineum. His mouth vibrated agains
t her as he muttered oaths. The tightening of all those lovely muscle groups beneath her, his cock thick as she’d ever felt it, told her that while her oral skills might not have been her best performance, her screaming reactions had more than compensated to keep him heavily aroused. She realized his trembling body was as rigid as his cock. It made her more determined to draw a climax from him, no matter how he struggled to obey his Mistress. Pushing aside exhaustion, she put her oral skills back to work. She tasted his pre-cum and milked it out of him with teasing strokes along the throbbing veins along the shaft.

  Just when she was pretty sure Lyda’s intent was that he come without permission, and Gen was feeling a visceral pleasure at being part of the conspiracy, Lyda spoke. “Come for us, Noah.”

  He thrust so hard up into her throat Gen gagged, but she moved with him, riding him like a bucking horse. She wished she could be in two places at once, seeing the way his biceps bunched as the spreader bar held his arms in their locked position, his chest lifting, hips pushing down hard to flatten his ass into the carpet and then rebounding into her mouth again, pumping into her like he would her pussy.

  She kept lashing at him well after his seed flooded her mouth, inflicting as much sensual torture as he’d given her, sucking on the corona, nipping it with sharp teeth as he jerked. Distantly she heard Lyda chuckling at them both, but the strain in their Mistress’s voice shot triumph through Gen. Was she hot and wet too? Craving their hands, mouths, genitals to bring her release?

  If she was, she wasn’t ready to give in to it yet. “He’s done. Gen, take your mouth off him. Remove his spreader bar. Noah, stay still. No moving.”

  Though Gen was weak, she was so saturated with the drugging pleasure of it all, she wanted more. Endless amounts of more. It was a Disneyland-Twilight Zone addiction. As she turned to straddle Noah, her wet pussy pressed against his damp cock. She leaned over his face, her breasts bobbing close to his tempting mouth. The puffs of breath puckered her still tight nipples further. When she unbuckled the cuffs, she saw he was in the same zone she was, his gaze fastened on her breasts as if they were the most important thing in his universe. He wanted to taste, to suckle. She stretched herself even lower, put her nipple damn near against his parted lips, her breasts pressed against his face. She also did a lot of rubbing against him as she freed him from the spreader bar. “No moving,” she reminded him.