Divine Solace: 8 (15 page)

Gen had never thought of herself as any of that. Up until
that last part, she would have said that Lyda was describing herself. But Lyda
would never be owned.

“If you were treating me…heavy handed, what would you do?
Unless it’s revealing your diabolical master plan. Or mistress.”

Lyda’s lips curved. “Don’t taunt me, rabbit. It’s not a
place you’re ready to go.” Her gaze swept Gen again. “As we were driving home,
I would have ordered you to spread your legs and put two fingers inside
yourself, your thumb on your clit. No movement of those fingers, no playing
with yourself. Just your hand on and inside your pussy while I was driving, to
remind you I’m in charge, that your body belongs to me. It’s my plaything
tonight. I’d want you to feel how wet you were getting, not from the
stimulation of your hand, but from the thought of how I’m controlling you,
commanding your arousal.”

Her gaze shifted. “Once we pulled into my driveway, I’d have
you pull your fingers out of yourself, show them to me. I would tell you to
suck on them, clean them with your mouth. Then I’d kiss you, taste your pussy
on your lips, and think about what I’m going to do with that tasty little cunt
to keep it wet for me. You’re a squirter and—”

“Don’t. I hate that word.”

She hadn’t meant to cut Lyda off, as much because it
revealed too much about herself as to avoid being rude. “Guy, my first husband,
laughed about it. It made me feel dirty. Gross.”

“Asshole.” Lyda stroked her thigh, tugged on the hem of her
dress. “Look at me, Gen. I loved watching you do it. Do you remember the noise
Noah made? It turns him on three ways to Sunday. He’ll work his ass off to earn
the right to fuck you, feel that happen around his cock.”

“That would be my choice, not yours.”

“You’re right about that. But if we go down a road where you
give yourself to me, at times it becomes one and the same.”

She should disagree with that, but the way Lyda said it, the
sensuous inflection, her fingers still drifting over Gen’s thighs, made it
difficult to articulate the reasons it wasn’t true. She struggled to get back
on track. “What else…would you make me do?”

“I have no close neighbors.” Lyda drew her attention to
their surroundings. The white house had one outside spotlight, showing Gen a
small yard with a variety of flowers and potted plants. A stepping stone
walkway was illuminated by the solar lights. “I’d tell you to take off the
dress, walk up to the door in that cute bra and panty set and your heels.
That’s all you’d be wearing for the rest of the night. Or less.”

“What does that give you?” Closing nerveless fingers on her
thighs, Gen cleared the rasp out of her throat.

“There’s a sweet vulnerability to a woman who submits to
another woman. The way she kneels at my feet, wearing nothing but her
underwear. I like looking at the line of her spine, the nape of her neck when
her hair drapes forward because I’ve made her lower her head, raise her ass in
the air, spread her legs. It’s exciting you, isn’t it? Hearing me describe it
to you.”

Gen gave a spare nod.

“Spread your legs, baby.” Lyda said it so softly, and she
used that same endearment Noah had. Like the two people themselves, it elicited
different reactions from her, both of them intense. Pleasurable. Gen loosened
her thighs, throat working as Lyda slid a finger beneath the panties, stroked
her cunt. “There you are, so wet and hot for me.”

“I don’t know anything about you,” Gen said desperately.
“Except you worked two jobs in high school.”

They hadn’t had any of the normal discussions for a date.
Background, family. She knew Lyda’s profession only by happenstance, not
inquiry.

“I’m a Mistress, Gen. For tonight, your Mistress, by your
own choice. There will be time to learn more, but there’s a difference between
asking because you want to know me better, and trying to hold onto control.”
Lyda withdrew her finger, touched it to Gen’s mouth, a gentle but inexorable
probe that had Gen tasting herself.

“Sweet, sweet honey. I want to fuck you into oblivion, Gen.
Until I’m the only thing you can hold onto to keep your world sane.” Her gaze
ran over Gen’s flesh, encompassing the dress and shoes, the hair curling around
her face. “You’ve given me hints of who you are, enough that I want to pull you
out of that chrysalis and see what you become when you let go of the shit you
don’t need anymore.”

Light flooded the vehicle as Noah pulled in behind them.
Gen, snared in a look that had become more steel than liquid silver, was
released as Lyda glanced in the mirror. “Let’s go inside.” Opening her door,
she exited the vehicle without Gen’s response.

Gen stared after her. Her car was right here. She could ask
Noah for the key, leave. She wasn’t a prisoner. Lyda was trying to unbalance
her, and it was working. She’d done something she’d never done before tonight.
She wasn’t up to a whole night of that. It was time to step back, retreat. If
Lyda didn’t like that, well, she’d just have to pull someone else out of their
“chrysalis”. Maybe over-the-top, charismatic Dommes had tried-and-true pickup
lines, just like anyone else in the vanilla dating game.

If so, it was a doozy. Gen would give her that.

Lyda had denied Gen any personal information, claiming that
Gen was trying to hold onto control. Well, yeah. That was what normal people
did, right? Tried to figure each other out, balance the scales, keep things on
an even keel so one didn’t feel so out of her element she might drown.

She opened the door, slid out. As she did, she was arrested
by what was happening at her car. What Lyda had described was apparently a
standard requirement for Noah. He’d changed into jeans, maybe when he’d stopped
to grab the quick drive-thru meal. He’d put the McDonald’s bag on her hood
because he needed both hands free to remove the T-shirt Lyda had tossed him.
While Gen watched, he shucked off the jeans. Beneath he wore charcoal-gray
cotton shorts-styled briefs that made the most of his legs and hugged the
appealing package at his groin. He toed off his shoes as well, his bare body a
pale blur illuminated by the solar lights.

Gen looked toward the house. Lyda had gone inside and left
the door open, a screen door keeping out bugs. Gen could see her tossing her
keys onto an entranceway table, unconcerned about when and how they might
follow her.

She thought about walking from the truck in only her
panties, bra and heels, like Lyda had described. She imagined Lyda walking next
to her, fingertips trailing over the valley of Gen’s spine. It gave her a
shiver.

No. She wasn’t ready for that tonight. Wasn’t even sure how
much of this submissive stuff she was into doing, outside of the structured
club environment. It felt more real here, less like a game.

When Noah touched her back where she’d imagined Lyda
touching her, she twitched. He had his clothes folded over one arm and extended
the other with a reassuring look, offering his hand. “Like Hansel and Gretel,”
he teased her.

Going into the home of a powerful, scary witch. It wasn’t
entirely off the mark, though the danger of this one was in the desire to be
eaten, not the fear of it. She gazed up into his face. He was relaxed. This was
normal to him. Whereas she wondered if she was going to Crazytown, because she
took his hand and felt a bit steadier from his firm clasp. But Lyda had made it
clear all choices were hers, and so far she hadn’t asked Gen to do anything
she’d refuse. The desire for escape had passed, for now.

She was carrying her shoes, and Noah nudged her onto the
stepping stones, keeping her out of the vegetation that might prick her feet.
The slate still held some of the heat of the humid day. She heard the faint pops
of bug zappers.

At the top of the steps, Noah opened the door for her.
Thinking of what Lyda said about Noah working his ass off for the right to fuck
Gen sent a ripple through her. She had a difficult time not staring at the
heavy weight filling the charcoal-gray knit shorts.

Gen managed not to stumble over the threshold as Noah
gestured her to precede him. Lyda leaned against the wall at the end of the
hall, arms crossed beneath her breasts, one booted foot hooked over the
opposite ankle. Her perusal made Gen feel as undressed as Noah. A female
glancing at her in a dressing room was just curiosity.
Are her thighs fat as
mine?
Lyda was evaluating her as a sexual being, someone from whom she
intended to make sexual demands. The difference was astronomical.

Lyda took off the tunic covering her corset. The latex
leggings molded her sex, the tantalizing crease between thigh and hip. As Gen
watched, Lyda unfastened the first several hooks of the corset, exposing a
deeper plunge between her breasts.

“You’re not in the position I require when you enter my
house.”

She was talking to Noah, because he immediately dropped to
one knee. He kept his grip on Gen’s hand. Lyda’s gaze remained cool,
dispassionate. When she arched a slim brow, Gen wondered if she expected her to
kneel.

That wasn’t the scary thing. The scary thing was Gen had to
lock her knees to keep herself from doing it. A big part of her wanted to
tumble down that rabbit hole, see what adventures lay in wait for her.

This isn’t me. Be cautious.

Better to be safe, even if it made her sorry.

She’d been so close to doing it, her heart hammered in her
throat as if she had. Did Noah feel it? His grip had tightened, his thumb
sliding over her palm, a reassurance.

Lyda moved down the hall, her body sexual poetry in motion.
“Eyes on the floor. Let go of her hand.”

Gen alone had the pleasure of seeing the latex crease around
Lyda’s sex, the way her breasts quivered as she sauntered toward them. She had
a thin silver chain wrapped around one hand.

“You knew to kneel when you first entered. You were being
polite, trying not to make our guest feel self-conscious. But who do you obey,
first and foremost?”

“You, Mistress.” Noah’s voice was respectful.

“Take off your underwear.”

He did so, with more grace than Gen could have managed if
she’d been on her knees the way he was. She saw a bare haunch emerge, the seam
of his buttocks. When he sat back, she bit back a surprised noise. His cock was
locked in a curved, form-fitting metal sheath. His testicles were swollen
beneath its steel collar.

She’d thought he’d been erect tonight, and instead it had
been the frame of that chastity cage. When he’d been stroking himself, he’d
been gripping that sheath, the entire purpose to titillate Gen’s senses. But
God… He’d said the pain of getting hard in such a device kept the cock from
getting erect, but in that environment, saturated in sex…God, performing oral
sex on Gen… Lyda was a sadist.

Lyda let the chain unwind from her hand, dangling a key in
front of him. “You may release yourself, now that I know your cock will only be
getting stiff from what I do to it. Or what I allow Gen to do to it.”

“Yes Mistress.” When she dropped the key to the floor in
front of him, he unlocked a small padlock that rested in the valley provided by
his testicles. Gen watched, fascinated, as he parted the two pieces of the
sheath. There’d been a thin steel rod inserted into the slit, about an inch
long.
Jesus.

The tip had milky-white pre-cum collected around it. Even as
he removed it, blood was starting to fill his cock. It was clear the organ
would soon be standing proud between his thighs. Wearing it only restricted his
physical state of arousal, not the mental one.

“As soon as the beast is out of the cage, it’s ready to
play.” When Lyda caressed his hair, he pressed his temple to her thigh,
brushing his lips there. “Let’s see if you’ve been as good as you’re supposed
to be.” She crooned it, but Gen saw the measuring look in her eyes. Squatting,
Lyda clasped his cock in a functional grip, probed the slit. Muscles rippled
across his back, his body tightening at the stimulation. “Good boy. You didn’t
wear it too long.”

She looked at Gen. “He earned himself a severe punishment
the night it started to hurt and he didn’t tell me. Taking care of his cock so
I have use of it whenever I wish is an important priority for a male sub.”

“What did you do to him?” Having this conversation while
Noah kept silent, his eyes down, was odd, but Gen was too curious not to ask.
Lyda’s hand remained on his neck as she rose, thumb tapping his main artery in
an idle caress that had his fingers curling and uncurling on his thighs.

“I shamed him by doing the cleanings and flushings myself.
He took the prescribed antibiotics from my hand. On top of that, he was allowed
to do nothing for me, as his Mistress, for a week. If I couldn’t trust him to
care for something as precious to me as his dick, I couldn’t trust him to care
for me. It did the trick. For now.”

Noah’s cheeks had a dull flush from that exchange. Gen
noticed a flex of his jaw muscle. Lyda saw it too. “You have something to say,
Noah?” she said sharply.

“No Mistress.”

“Hmm. Gen, are you hungry?”

“A little.”

“Noah, go fix us a snack and a drink. Something with carbs
and protein. Gen will need her energy and so will you. Bring it to us in the
living room.”

Taking Gen’s hand, Lyda turned and moved up the hallway,
leaving Noah there. Gen heard the sound of him rising, his bare feet padding
behind them. She wanted to look back, but Lyda kept a brisk pace. As they passed
the kitchen, Gen glimpsed an open space with gleaming pots and pans.

The living room had designer furniture and beautiful, bold
prints of exotic plants. A flat screen TV was mounted on the wall. Lyda took a
seat on the sofa, propping an arm on the back of the couch, her legs curled up
beneath her. She patted the cushion in front of her. “Facing me, one leg bent
on the seat cushion in front of you, the sole of your foot against your
opposite knee, forming a triangle. Other foot on the floor.”

The position stretched the thin crotch of Gen’s panties over
her plump sex. It was clear from Lyda’s appreciative glance that the short
skirt revealed it. “You blush when I look at your pussy. It’s charming. Noah
only blushes if I embarrass him.”

“Why did you? Just now. All of it seemed…mean.”

“Remember what I said about Noah needing the more
heavy-handed methods? The cock sheath might seem cruel, but it’s part of what
he craves, Gen. A good Domme never does what a sub doesn’t truly, deeply want.”
Lyda pursed her lips. “As far as telling you about the infection, a
submissive’s top priority is self-care. There’s no failure a good Mistress
punishes more harshly and, with a sub like Noah, you have to remind him, over
and over. He’s an excessive nurturer, to the point he could be mistaken for a
Dom. His form of submission is like an ocean wave, holding you down. Which
makes him an excellent partner to work with a Mistress. It also makes him
insanely indifferent to himself.”

She paused, as if she’d say more, but then she shook her
head. “Tonight is not about that.”

She reached out, stroked Gen’s hair some more, but when Gen
began to lift her own hand to return the favor, Lyda’s look stilled her. “Hands
stay at your sides, Gen.”

“I don’t get to touch you?”

“Not unless I give permission.”

That had been easier to accept in the club environment.
Here, she found herself more uncomfortable with the messages being sent. Toward
her, Noah. “Why is that?”

“Because I said so.” Humor flitted through Lyda’s gaze at
the parental dictate, even as her expression remained set, telling Gen that the
teasing didn’t change her orders. “As children, we may resent hearing that, but
it shuts down the argument, makes us focus on simple obedience. It’s a reminder
of structure and boundaries, of who holds the reins. At its root, it’s a
feeling of security.”

“Do I seem like someone who needs that?”

“You tell me.” Those silver eyes pinned her. “There’s a part
of you that’s thinking you should pull back, tell me to get over myself. You’re
telling yourself you need to do something to reestablish us as equals. But
another part of you wants to submit, and the why of that has you confused.

“There are submissives who need to resist to achieve that
sense of security, and they’ll challenge a Dom more or less to get it. Then
there are those who’ll play for the fun and novelty of it, but when you tap
into the deeper levels, they simply draw away, a clear message that true
submission, that craving, isn’t their thing.”

Gen wet her lips. “How do you tell the difference?”

“Practice. Intuition. Trial and error. This is a consensual
game, Gen. No matter what I do to you, you can end it with a single word. We
call it a safeword. However, I always rely on unconscious signals first and
foremost, because they’re more truthful, and often come into play long before
the safeword.”

“You think I’m a submissive, not just someone indulging a
sexual adventure.”

“Being a submissive is a wide, wide range. At this point,
I’d rather not slap a label on you, and not just because it would spook you. I
think it would limit us both. Whatever you are…it’s interesting.” One of those
slim brows arched. “The fact you did what you did at the club, and how you
respond to soft commands, like keeping your hands at your sides now, tells me
you want to explore this more yourself.”

It was hard to argue with that. But since she seemed
amenable to questions, Gen had plenty. “Say all that’s true tomorrow. How does
this work going forward? Do we set up appointments…dates? Is it a relationship
or like going to a carnival every once in a while?” Realizing she might sound
like a clingy first date, she added, awkwardly, “This isn’t my world. I don’t
know how it works.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s not your world. It’s not a world you’ve
chosen to enter until now.” Lyda lifted a hand, ticking off points on her
fingers. “Your boss is a very strong female Dominant, but you defer to her on a
personal level as well as a professional one. Are you friends?”

When Gen hesitated over it, Lyda nodded. “The question gives
you pause because yes, she is a friend, but there’s something more there too.
Like family, but not. She provides a certain direction to your life, a
stability to your core, that you’ve never examined all that closely.”

Lyda slid her fingertips over Gen’s knee, a stroke that sent
the nerve endings around it rippling. Then she resumed her count. “Your best
friend chose a man fully immersed in the Dom/sub world for her husband. You
took Noah into your home for the weekend, and when you learned what he was, you
took steps toward exploring the limits of that. In the shallow end, yes, but
you did. And tonight, you surrendered yourself to me publicly, almost without
hesitation.”

“It was the environment. When in Rome…” Gen trailed off
before that keen glance, one that brooked no lying. Jesus, just like
Marguerite. “But I have no idea what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. That’s not
like me. I don’t like uncertainty.”

“This is entirely different from anything you’ve ever done,
but don’t assume it’s alien, Gen. Haven’t you ever visited a new place that,
for reasons you can’t explain, feels familiar?”

“Sounds like what cult leaders say.”

Lyda chuckled at that, but it wasn’t cynical or mocking. She
sounded appreciative of Gen’s humor. The sultry note was also very distracting.
Gen found herself wanting to lay a hand on her throat, feel the vibration of
it. Lyda had a beautiful neck, coaxing the fingertips to stroke the lines of
it, follow that slope to the generous breasts. She was obviously not going to
have clear thoughts about any of this until she was well out of range of Noah
or Lyda.

Resigned to that, she shifted the topic to Lyda herself.
“Was that how it worked for you? I mean…you weren’t born with cuffs in one
hand, a whip in the other, right?”

The lines around Lyda’s eyes crinkled. “No. But as I told
you in the car, stories about me will come another time.”

The woman slid her nails under Gen’s bra strap, caressing
her collarbone, then dipped to the upper rise of her breast. Gen’s skin rose in
gooseflesh beneath the touch, and she drew in a breath as Lyda pushed deeper
into the cup, her finger playing over her nipple as it hardened. Gen tried not
to squirm on the couch in response. Her attention went back to Lyda’s breasts,
those few undone hooks of the corset revealing a tempting, shadowed valley.

“What are you thinking, Gen?”

“I find you…very attractive.” What a stupid thing to say.
Lyda probably heard things like that all the time. Was she really playing
teenage mind games, trying to figure out the cool thing to say? Was she regressing
that badly?
Just be an adult and say what you mean.
“I haven’t ever been
attracted to a woman like this. Not past the casual fantasy level.”

“Then I’m flattered I’ve won your attention. Take off your
bra, Gen.”

No matter what conflicting thoughts were going through Gen’s
head, Lyda was right about one thing. Something about all of this worked for
Gen. Maybe it wouldn’t tomorrow. Maybe she’d think she’d lost her mind, but
tonight, when Lyda spoke, she wanted to obey. Unhooking the bra beneath the
dress, she slid the straps out the sleeves, pulled the whole garment free. At
Lyda’s nod, she folded it neatly and laid it on the coffee table.

Lyda straightened on the couch, putting both feet on the
floor. “Stand up in front of me. Don’t be worried, Gen.”

When Gen complied, Lyda cupped her hands around Gen’s
breasts, exploring their weight and shape through the thin dress fabric. She
kneaded them gently, stroked her thumbs over them. She didn’t touch the
nipples, even though Gen could see as well as Lyda how stiff they were, begging
for the contact. Instead, Lyda dropped her hold to Gen’s hips and brought her
close enough her legs touched Lyda’s knees. “Spread your legs so they’re wider
than my feet.”

She did, and Lyda slipped a hand between Gen’s legs, up
under the short skirt. When her knuckles slid over Gen’s labia, teasing her
clit, Gen swayed in reaction. Lyda’s other hand tightened on her hip. “Put your
hand on my shoulder.”

She’d take any excuse to touch the woman, and this one
allowed her to twine her fingers in the silky hair that had fallen forward on
the shoulder Lyda had bared. She had silky skin as well. When Gen inhaled, she
got a faint whiff of perfumed powder. Gen drew in a breath as Lyda inserted a
finger beneath the panties and pushed up inside her pussy. When the muscles
contracted in response, Lyda let out a pleased hum. “Nice and wet.”

Gen heard her pussy make a sucking sound on Lyda’s fingers
as she explored. She had no time to be embarrassed over that, because whatever
else she did made Gen bite back a moan.

“Keep your other hand at your side, unless I direct you
otherwise. You hold onto my shoulder with the one hand, I’ll keep you steady
with the other one. You’re safe with me, Gen. Do you understand?”

She didn’t understand it, but she certainly felt it in this
moment. Her uneasiness about that wasn’t strong enough to make Gen want to stop
what was happening.

“You said you haven’t really taken it past the fantasy
stage.” Lyda asked the casual question as her hand stayed busy. “So you’ve
never had sex with a woman, Gen? Played with one during your teenage years?”