Nature Of Desire: Mirror Of The Soul

by Joey W. Hill

  “It hurt like hell for the first few moments,” Violet offered. “But it’s worth it. God, all Mac has to do is touch it and I practically go off. It doesn’t make sense, really, because my navel wasn’t the least bit sensitive before then. Leila says it does the same thing to the clit and nipples. This is good. What did you say it was?”

  “Ti Kwan Yin, tea of the iron goddess of mercy.”

  Violet’s eyes gleamed, appreciating the subtlety, and shifted her legs, producing a frustrated noise from Roland.

  Marguerite noted that her sub kept swallowing, suggesting that he was having a difficult time keeping the saliva from pooling in his mouth, but she knew he would not disobey either Mistress, even to steal a single kiss against Violet’s skin. Not only because he would risk punishment from one of them, but he might lose a limb to the territorial ire of a husband who outweighed him by fifty pounds at least.

  Marguerite knew it all to be purely teasing on Violet’s part, however. She did soft play with other male subs to rouse her husband’s unexpectedly strong alpha nature, or as part and parcel of the intimate atmosphere of The Zone, but male subs did not touch her except in the most restrained of ways. They definitely did not engage in serious play with her. The smell of her pussy was as close as Roland was going to get to it, but of course that was more than enough from Mac’s perspective, if the tense line of his body in the lounger and the narrowed, intent focus of his silver gaze was any indication.

  Marguerite poured another cup for herself and set the pot back down on the small of Roland’s back, just above the curve of his buttocks. It was a small teapot, easy to take with her on overnight visits and she was fond of it, the rounded base and sturdy balance perfectly appropriate for her needs at this moment. She put it down directly on Roland’s skin this time rather than the tea cozy, for it was hot enough to be uncomfortable, but not dangerous. She ratcheted up the vibration level of the plug, noting his cock was stiff as steel with his nose inches away from Violet’s crotch and her own hands stroking his flanks. Scraping him occasionally with her nails, she fondled his testicles, ran a nail down to the base of his cock or rocked the plug as the mood took her. Compounded with the psychological impact of using him so functionally, she suspected he was on the knife edge of climax. Ready for the release of pain. “Would you like another cup?”

  When Violet nodded, Marguerite placed the cup in the small of Roland’s back. “Stay very still, Roland, no matter what. Mistress Violet will be very displeased if you spill her tea.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” Roland’s voice was hoarse. The head of his cock glistened with pre-come. Marguerite noted that Violet’s body was obviously being well aroused by the heat of his breath stroking her, which in turn was likely making him insane with the scent of her desire. The woman’s hand feathered up her belly, playing with that piercing and then went farther, her fingertips whispering up to her breast, over the nipple that had peaked beneath the brief bikini top as she watched Marguerite pour. Mac made a noise that could only be called a growl as his tiny Mistress leaned forward to take the cup from Marguerite, which pressed Roland’s face into her thighs, his nose practically buried in her cunt.

  “You’re torturing him,” Marguerite observed. “He’s enormous now.”

  “Mmm.” Violet swept her lashes down. “He’s amazing that way. And I’m afraid I’m too easily overwhelmed by it.” A smile crept onto her face. “Sometimes I think falling in love makes you lose an edge as a Mistress. Other times I think it makes it easier to stay on that edge, to have the confidence to explore it more deeply than you would otherwise. It makes you even more adventurous.”

  Marguerite was fighting against her amusement and Violet suddenly picked up on it.

  “You were talking about Roland, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, I was.” Marguerite sighed. “Roland, I suppose you’ll just have to make do with my attentions. Mistress Violet is a bit distracted. Though I think—” she raised her voice, her eyes meeting Violet’s in perfect accord, “that you’ve done an admirable job of making her pussy wet, just with your warm breath. Perhaps she’d pay more attention to you if you blew on her a bit to cool her down.”

  She ran her bare toes along the back of his muscular arm, braced out next to the leg of Violet’s chair.

  “You’re a troublemaker.” Violet’s laughter was a little breathless, ratcheting up as Roland apparently followed Marguerite’s direction. “Both of you.”

  When he shifted his head, Marguerite caught a glint in Roland’s eyes. She allowed him a tiny smile of approval. Since she had his attention, she lifted the pot and very precisely poured a teaspoonful of it onto his skin, watched the steam curl up. Roland quivered hard, but did not move.

  “Again, Mistress,” he begged, his voice muffled against Violet’s skin.

  She obliged him, in several places, until he was panting with the exertion of staying so still, his cock leaking its need onto the pillow. Violet was making short, taunting rubs against his mouth, a mouth not allowed to move against her without a command from his Mistress for the evening.

  “Violet.” Tyler called to them across the pool. Marguerite could tell he was trying to keep the humor out of his voice and sound reproving. “That chair Mac is going to turn into kindling in about twelve seconds is imported from Egypt. It probably constitutes three months of his laughable salary, which I will not hesitate to take out on your cute ass if he breaks it.”

  Violet cast a look of feline satisfaction at her husband, then gave Marguerite a genuine smile, a steady look.

  “Thank you for the tea, Mistress,” she said formally. “Perhaps you’d like to try the furniture at my home some time.” Her eyes danced and she sent Tyler a wink, then bent and placed a light kiss between Roland’s shoulder blades. She gave him a light swat as he returned the favor, a stolen kiss across her crotch as she rose. “Now Mistress Marguerite will have to punish you for that, Roland.”

  “Yes, Mistress. I’ll take it gladly.” There was a smile in Roland’s voice as well as desire. Marguerite was amazed to discover that a D/s session could be about fun as well as intense release. Though from the size of Roland’s erection, she thought it might be about time to reward Roland with the latter. For the moment though, she let his arousal build watching the scenario playing out before them.

  Violet sauntered toward Mac. As she did, Marguerite saw the playfulness shed off her shoulders like a cloak, her walk becoming almost predatory, a woman on the hunt for sex, her expression becoming one of hunger. The game she’d been playing was ready to close into something that was not a game at all.

  Marguerite had to catch her breath herself at the sight of the furious man. Of Mac’s body, all the impressive musculature drawn up in tense readiness, every smooth, powerful curve defined as he resisted the desire to shatter the bindings which were psychological only. He was not resisting the raging need to be with his Mistress, however. His silver eyes were focused only on Violet as she met that intimidating gaze with one of her own, one that challenged him, that told Marguerite clearly that Violet had been aware of every degree of frustration she’d been causing her husband.

  “I can smell you from here, sugar,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You value his life, you better come here.”

  Violet was wearing stilettos with her brief bikini and she used the combination to good effect now, swinging her hips, untying the top as she came toward him, dropping it without self-consciousness in front of her audience. It dropped to the concrete, exposed her small perfect breasts to her husband’s avid gaze. In a graceful move she straddled his face, clamping her hand down on his throat to hold his head as she slowly, slowly lowered her hips until her crotch was right over his mouth. “Can you eat me out better than that young stud over there, Mackenzie?”

  “He should take notes.”

  Violet smiled then, a softer expression. Resigned humor entered Mac’s gaze as well, tempered with a mutual heat and energy that made Marguerite feel they were no longer a
ware of anyone else. “You’re making me fucking crazy, Mistress.”

  “Can you serve your Mistress so she desires no others?”

  “I’ll do my best.” There was a raw quality to his voice now. Violet’s touch on his neck eased, became a caress.

  “Make me come with your mouth. You know I love that.”

  Marguerite found herself riveted by them, the slide of Violet’s body over that strong jaw, his body still stretched out and bound as he served her, made her body sinuously dance upon him. She threw her head back, the auburn curls tumbling, her hands rising to caress her breasts before his gaze. She moaned at the first touch of his lips, a sound of coming home as much as it was of sexual pleasure. Roland’s body quivered and Marguerite had a sudden urge, an urge so strong she couldn’t deny the image in her head. She wondered if she could trust as Violet had suggested she could trust, to explore the many things that love could be, ways it could be expressed.

  She removed the teacup and pot, set them aside. “Roll to your back, Roland.” He obeyed, adjusting himself on his back on the row of cushions. His green eyes were sparkling jade with anticipation for what he obviously hoped she was about to demand of him. When he moistened his lips, she was riveted by that soft, clever mouth. Bending, she reached under him and made sure the plug was turned back up to its highest setting, made more potent since the pool deck floor beneath his pillow pressed it deep and steady into him now. His eyes widened and his body quivered, his cock jumping in response.

  “Not until you make me come,” she told him. “Only then.”

  “Yes, Mistress. Oh…Jesus…” Roland strangled on a moan as her fingers caressed his cock before she straightened.

  Marguerite rose, as aware of Tyler’s attention as Violet had been of Mac’s. As such, she took her time, teasing both the man across the pool and the man at her feet as she loosened the lacings on either side of the pants, easing their hold on her sufficiently. Picking up a large navy blue towel, she brought the pants even lower on her hips, knotted the towel around her waist and slid the garment off her legs with only a brief glimpse of her upper thighs, the crease of thigh and hip, curve of buttock. She moved the knotted side of the towel to her hip, keeping that side bare so her flank was exposed, but nothing else was. Then she stepped deliberately over Roland’s face and sank down onto the young man’s eagerly waiting mouth, as Violet had done with Mac. She kept her eyes on Tyler as she did so, even as the sub’s clever lips and tongue immediately went to skillful work on her beneath the dark concealment of the terrycloth, making her rock, reach behind her to brace herself on his flat abdomen for balance. Because of the towel, her sinuous, seductive dance of pleasure did not reveal what was being done beneath the skirt, the way her cunt was shoving against his mouth, surging sensitive skin against the rasp of his jaw, spreading her moisture over his lips, chin, cheeks. But her upper body shuddered at the sounds of his pleasure, at the hardness of his cock when she manacled it with her fingers, held tightly onto it, letting him feel the power in her grip, the command she still held of the situation.

  But when she looked into Tyler’s eyes she was lost in the pleasure of performing for him, a pleasure that had heightened her tea during the past hour, just as Violet’s teasing of Mac had heightened it for her.

  Whereas Violet had been teasing her slave, Marguerite had been teasing her Master, feeling his eyes on her throughout. His increasing heat as she brought Roland and Leila to climax together, talked to Violet, stroked Roland to fever pitch. She was rocking, so close, but even as she reached that pinnacle, she knew she wouldn’t go over. She’d never been able to do it this way, always hitting that wall, the slammed door, only able to push through it with the destructive restraint of a scarf and belt on her throat.

  But she had another way now, the consent of her Master. That reassurance that his restraint was upon her, ironically giving her the safety, the freedom, to take that leap. She looked toward him, the realization in her eyes, communicating her desperate need to him.

  “Come for me, angel.” He understood, was ready with the harsh command, his face alive with a hunger as if he had ordered her to sit on Roland’s mouth himself. Her body exploded, her body arching back, quivering against Roland, the tissues throbbing with the orgasm as she cried out, driven higher by his order, by his eyes upon her, by Violet’s mating cries as Mac brought her to the same pinnacle.

  Roland gasped against her vibrating pussy. “Mistress, please…”

  “Let go, Roland. Let us hear you.”

  His strong body bucked under her, moist mouth opening wide on a groan of release that vibrated against her, increasing the aftershocks as his come jetted out of him like a fountain, bathing her hand gripping him, her wrist and forearm above in liquid heat.

  When she flicked her gaze briefly across the pool, she saw Violet had moved back, impaled herself on Mac’s cock, lowering herself inch by inch onto it. She began to move, riding it, his great body surging up into hers as she milked him, drew him out with her whispered demand.

  “Fuck me, Mackenzie. Fuck me hard, baby.”

  It made Marguerite’s own pussy contract again to hear the words, to have it match so closely her own need, even so close on the heels of the orgasm she had just had. She wanted, needed…

  She gave Roland a full measure of satisfaction from her hand, taking him down slowly, sitting back to ease the plug from him, turn it off. Then she bent down, brushed her lips over his jaw, tasting the mark of her scent. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  He gave her a lethargic smile, managed to turn his head and press his lips to her hand. “My pleasure, Mistress.”

  She rose, felt his eyes follow her as she dropped the towel and walked down the steps into the pool, moving through the water, across it to her Master.

  Tyler still sat in his chair, watching her approach. She wanted his firm lips on her, the hard cock she could see under his wet shorts deep inside her, his body all around her, holding her, caring for her, bringing her pleasure.

  He rose as she stroked across. Unfastening those shorts, he kicked them off so when she reached the pool’s edge he met her naked. Taking her hands, he lifted her out in one powerful motion that took her breath from her. He kissed both her hands, then kissed her mouth, gathering her in close, his hands wandering down her back, caressing her ass in front of the others. Turning her so her back was to him, he took a seat in his chair again, guiding her hips down, down, so she sat in the chair on him, facing outward. His cock slowly slid into her tight wetness while she shuddered, rocked upon him, made a keening sound she could not control.

  When she was fully seated on him, he put a hand over her throat, brought her back with his hand there and the other flat on her belly, snugging her hips deep into the crook of his. As he held her head back so she was staring at the sky through the solar panels in the ceiling, she felt every eye on her exposed body, especially at his next whispered command.

  “Spread your thighs wide, angel. Let them see how beautiful you are, my cock deep inside of your cunt.”

  Never would she have believed in this moment. That she would be held in a man’s arms who made her feel safe, loved. Who was the release valve for the sexual pressure that built so high inside her when she Mastered a sub, a valve she couldn’t release herself. That she would take warm pleasure the way a submissive did in being displayed by her Master, knowing she was his, all his.

  And when she did spread her knees, his fingers were there, playing with her stretched lips, her clit, pinching and stroking as he moved inside her. Tiny but wondrously effective movements stimulating her, his strong thighs moving her in a position she could do little to nothing to control. And always that hand a firm collar on her throat, her breasts bouncing hard as the strength of his movement increased. His intent was clear. A rough quick fuck to spill his seed in her, to show her how the past hour had teased him to raging for her. It was what she wanted. The proof of his possession, his desire to be Master of her as a Mistress and watch her
do what she did so well, took such pleasure in. To know emotionally and physically he would control the release it built in her.

  He took her up, up…and then he took his fingers to other territory. Her breasts, the delicate skin under her arms, playing in the shallow indentation of her navel. She wondered what it would be like to be pierced there like Violet. She gasped his name as he prolonged the torture, returning to her clit and pussy enough to keep her on the precipice, but drawing back each time she was close. Her breasts and nipples began to tingle painfully at the jolting, pleasure-pain that wanted his mouth, his touch. But he withheld it, teasing, rousing, bringing her almost there, retreating. She wanted to feel him come inside her, needed it.

  “Watch them,” he said, directing her glazed gaze to Violet and Mac. They were being roused anew by watching the two of them, such that Violet was kissing her husband, riding him again, his hands now free, hard on her hips, driving the pace this time.

  Tyler’s words were ragged, indicating his control might be as frayed as hers. She squeezed down on him, turned her head against his grip to speak, her breath hot and wet against his neck.

  “Master, please. Please come inside of me.”

  With a groan, his control broke, telling her he’d been waiting for that gift, the gift of submission only she could offer his soul. When the hot streams of seed brought her to orgasm, she cried out, rising up even as his hands tightened, holding her steady on his cock as their bodies pounded together.

  Moving like they were meant to be so fused, now and forever, she knew the complex give and take of dominance and submission between them no longer needed explanation or apology. The answer could be no clearer than it was in a moment such as this.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After the intensity of the earlier part of the evening, the rest of the night was quite mellow, social. Clothes were changed or donned as appropriate, and the seven of them reconnected to eat an elegant dinner, play card games in a screened gazebo by a manmade lake, drink wine and watch the moonlight play on the water. They discussed life and politics, and the philosophy of BDSM, as people of similar interests would who enjoyed one another’s company.