Divine Solace: 8 (17 page)

He nuzzled her hand with his mouth, his nose, closing his
eyes as her nails lightly raked his forehead, his cheek. Her gaze softened, and
she caressed the strands of hair scattered on his brow. “Behave,” she murmured.

He let her go and she put the blindfold in place. When she
shifted to Gen, dangling the blindfold before her, Gen smelled the tea, a chai
blend, on her fingertips.

“This will intensify your pleasure,” Lyda explained. “And my
own.”

Gen wasn’t sure. But her hands weren’t being tied. She could
remove it at any time. So she didn’t protest when Lyda put the blindfold on
her, leaving only a line of light at the lower part and the weight of Lyda’s
proximity. She adjusted Gen’s hair over and around it.

“Hear that slow click, click? That’s one back-and-forth
movement. During those two clicks, Gen, rub your cunt against Noah’s balls and
the base of his cock in a slow circle. Then you both wait another two clicks
and Noah returns the favor. You alternate, never going faster or slower than
the metronome. For every three times you mess up, get off rhythm, you get
punished. Neither one of you is allowed to come unless I give permission.
You’ll do this with minimal talking. I don’t want my reading disturbed.”

Gen had no doubt she’d be watching them as an eagle watched
prey, but the blindfolds would enforce the illusion. They’d hear the turning of
pages, the shift of her body as she read, that seeming detachment only
increasing the intensity of what they were doing. Hell, her pussy was already
quivering with the restrained desire to move, to rub against that provocative
stimulus, Noah’s heat and rough-textured flesh against the petals of her cunt.

Lyda withdrew. They heard the sound of her settling, the
light clink as she picked up the teacup.

“Ladies first.” Noah’s voice was already strained.

It was a game. Erotic twister, right? She focused on the
metronome. It took a moment to get it right, and she hoped Lyda was allowing a
learning curve before counting infractions. What would be the punishment? Don’t
Pass Go, stand in the corner for a minute? Her guesses probably weren’t even
close. But she wasn’t into pain. Definitely not humiliation. That was a deal
breaker.

“Focus,” Noah murmured, a sensual invitation to play, not an
admonishment.

It wasn’t difficult, not from a mechanical standpoint.
Rotate… Sliding her labia against the base of his cock, firmly enough the lips
split over his hardness, then down… Press against his testicles, the give of
them making an uneven stroke over her tissues. Then two beats and he did it to
her, working himself against her cunt.

What was difficult was staying to the slow, ticktock,
ticktock rhythm. Especially as they heard those pages being turned, the teacup
lifting and lowering. The intensity was driven as much by Lyda’s command as the
direct physical stimulus. They were performing for her, serving a Mistress’s
desires. As her arousal built, Gen found herself losing a grip on
self-consciousness as well as her internal debate about why she was doing this.
She wanted to please Lyda, wanted the chance to wrap her lips around that
succulent nipple again, feel her hair being stroked and her pussy getting
needier as she suckled, as she maybe got the chance to do even more, feel even
more, with both of them.

Her breath started to rasp. She bit it back, then cursed as
she missed the rhythm count. Again.

“That’s three, Gen.” Gen’s stomach jumped, but after a
weighted pause, Lyda merely said, “Keep going.”

Okay, so punishment was going to wait for later. Maybe Lyda
was enjoying her voyeurism too much to interrupt it. It was her game after all,
from beginning to end.

That spurt of thrilling panic had only increased sensation,
such that she had to bite back a whimper. She’d seen plenty of people tonight
who not only got off on being punished, but on watching it. From the size of
Noah’s cock pressed against her leg, she thought he’d gotten harder, and her
pussy became even more soaked, sliding her against his testicles even faster.

“On rhythm,” Lyda said sharply.

The slowness became the true torture, her pussy convulsing
with every rotation, her clit hardening, quivering. If she could rub even a
modicum faster, she would come. She thought Noah might be reaching the same
point, from how careful their movements were becoming. Her fingers dug into the
carpet. She’d flattened her upper body, the rug a sweet friction against her
nipples. Lift, lower, rotate.

“Fuck,” Noah breathed. “Mistress…”

“Sssh…” Lyda said absently. It sounded like she was
engrossed in her book, but Gen was sure she was feeding off the pleasure she
was denying them. The thought only inflamed Gen more. She and Noah were
writhing on the floor like wanton animals.

“Please…” Gen whispered to the carpet. Then, so softly she
thought it might not be heard, she said, “Mistress.”

Lyda’s bare foot pressed against her buttock. Still no
response, no command to come. They had to keep to that rhythm. Over and over,
until Gen’s body was dewed with perspiration and she’d coated Noah’s balls in
her juices. His leg was damp beneath hers. They were both shaking with the
effort of holding back.

“Stop.” Lyda’s foot withdrew. “Gen, on your knees. Come
toward my voice. I won’t let you run into anything.”

She obeyed, clumsy, uncoordinated, but when Lyda touched
her, drew her closer, she made that whimpering sound again. The blindfold
helped remove all inhibitions, all embarrassment. There was just lust, the need
to come.

“Sit up on your heels. Hands behind your back. Lace your
fingers.”

She teetered forward as she did it, but Lyda held her
securely, hands on Gen’s shoulders. She drew her down and forward, so Gen’s
chin rested on the seat cushion. Lyda was sliding closer, her thighs pressing
against Gen’s shoulders as she hooked her heels around the back of Gen’s knees.
Oh…she was going to…
Yes.

She pushed Gen’s face directly into her wet, fragrant pussy.
“Eat my cunt, Gen, until I tell you to stop. Serve your Mistress well, and I’ll
allow you and Noah to come.”

She didn’t have the reasoning power to worry that this was
her first time doing this to a woman and how to do it. She wanted to taste
Lyda’s pussy, suck juices from it, tease the labia, lash at the clit, nip at
her with an almost savage hunger, no finesse. Lyda pulled her head even closer,
burying Gen’s face and mouth against her, moving against Gen as if she was
marking her.

Gen plunged her tongue inside Lyda’s cunt, finding it slick
and hot. The musk of it was different from a man, the strength of the smooth
thighs on either side of her head tempered with the delicate scent of that
floral powder. She moaned as her own empty pussy contracted, so sensitized, so
close to climax, it made her work all the harder now for the reward she’d been
promised. That they’d both been promised.

Noah was behind them, listening to her going down on his
Mistress while he was blindfolded. Were his fingers itching to wrap around his
engorged cock, jerk himself off to the sound of Lyda’s heavy breathing, the
moans that slipped from her lips, the aroused sounds humming in Gen’s throat as
she licked, thrust into and suckled Lyda’s cunt?

Lyda’s grip became rigid on Gen’s head. As she ground
herself against her face, she released with guttural cries, a hard pumping of
her hips. Gen lapped up the small surges of cream that bathed her pussy,
suckled her clean all while savoring the strong woman’s shudders as she came
down, as she twitched and quivered. Reading her body as she might read her own,
Gen applied her tongue with steady pressure, slowing the swirls and teasing
licks to accommodate Lyda’s aftershocks, her sensitized skin. She could smell
Lyda on her lips, on her face. In her current state of extreme arousal, she
inhaled it like an elixir.

“Now your punishment. Turn around.”

Once again, Lyda guided her like a doll. She pushed Gen down
until her forehead was on the floor but she kept Gen’s hips up. She was so
aroused, the position was more arousing than threatening. All Gen could think
of was how her exposed pussy must look, wet and ready to be fucked, tissues
flushed, and how easy it would be to make that happen in a variety of ways.
Noah’s cock, his or Lyda’s tongue, fingers, a vibrator. She had to come or
she’d die.

A sharp slapping noise made her jump. She was going to be
punished, and though panic surged through her, none of it translated through
her lust-fogged brain as an act of refusal. Lyda’s hand slid between her legs,
cupped her mound. The contact alone made Gen moan, and when Lyda pushed a thumb
inside her, using the other fingers to hold her up, she was shuddering.

Something hard, slim and far too flexible smacked her ass.
It hurt, the sting sharp and jarring, but all the arousal swirling through her
made the cry that broke from her lips sound near orgasmic.

“Thought you had that in you, with the right conditions.”
Lyda did it again, harder, and Gen yelped. Panted. Gripped the carpet. After
the sting came a flush of heat that was hard to classify. Especially when she
felt Lyda’s lips brush her raised buttock. Right before the third blow, the
hardest of all. She jumped, her brain saying
No, no. That hurt too much, no
more…
And yet she wanted to lift her hips to ask for more.

Lyda removed her hand from her pussy, gave her throbbing
buttock a light slap with her hand. “That’s all you get for now, rabbit. Resume
the scissor position and begin again.”

Noah took over then, which was good since her mind was
floating somewhere, her body too spun up to be controlled by her brain. When he
eased her back into place, she let out a harsh groan. That contact between
their genitals ran electricity through her body, warning her how close she was
to climax.

The metronome was reset, this time to a faster pace. Lyda
was trying to turn her into a lunatic. “You may work at the same time now,” the
woman said in her pure sex tone “but follow this rhythm. I want to see my pets
come, writhing at my feet. Ask my permission right before.”

With the first friction of Noah’s testicles against her
labia, her pussy spasmed. “God…please…I need…”

She strangled on the words, and Lyda said nothing. She was
going to make her say it all. Choice or no choice, free will, wasn’t even in
Gen’s mind now. She and Noah were Lyda’s pets, owned by her entirely, able to
do what she wanted to them. And that ownership was the most erotic thought Gen
had ever experienced. All the independence she valued so highly, it wasn’t as
if this moment negated it—it was as if Lyda had called forth an alter ego from
Gen, one who wanted this. Needed this as a reward for the other.

The words blurted from her, lust-infused panic. “Please,
Mistress…may I come? Please…” The last word was a near scream.

“Come for me, Gen.”

Vaguely, she heard Noah ask for the same privilege and Lyda
give consent. His legs jerked, the two of them bucking against each other. She
spurted against his testicles, soaking them with her response she was sure. She
could see it just as Lyda had described it, them writhing on the floor, humping
like the naked, unrestrained animals they were, giving their owner pleasure as
she watched.

Their Mistress.

When Gen at last landed from her orbit of the moon, she
worried she might have scrubbed all the skin off Noah’s testicles. His deep
breaths, the way his legs were twitching against hers, told her he was feeling
no pain, however. No more than herself. Aftershocks kept rippling through her,
mixed with plain old shock. She became aware that Lyda was on her knees next to
them. She was stroking Gen’s hair, hip pressed against Gen’s backside. From the
rhythmic movements, Gen suspected she was stroking Noah as well. Perhaps his
hip or side. Soothing them. Expressing her pleasure.

“So you aren’t really a nighttime TV watcher,” Gen mumbled.

“I prefer live entertainment options when I can get them.
Sshh.” Lyda stroked the side of her face, coiled her fingers in Gen’s hair. She
kept doing that for a while, until lassitude settled over Gen’s limbs and she
thought she could stay this way forever.

But at length, the Mistress took off her blindfold. The
intensity in Lyda’s gaze, the tempting beauty of her mouth, made Gen quake
helplessly. And Lyda saw it all. The power of her expression, what Gen was
feeling, was too much, such that Gen’s gaze lowered before she even realized
she’d done it. But the gesture gave her some room to notice other things.

Lyda had her other hand braced on Noah’s hip. She hadn’t yet
removed his blindfold, so the press of his lips, the musculature of his body
delineated by the aftermath of his climax, was all Gen’s to enjoy without him
seeing her stare, giving her a taste of the exclusive pleasure Lyda had
enjoyed. His climax had spurted over his sectioned stomach muscles, up to his
chest. Despite the depletion of energy that came with her climax, Gen wanted to
slide her fingers through it, paint it over his nipples. Taste it, and him.

“He’s so beautiful, isn’t he?” Lyda ran a hand down his
side, over his buttock, back up to his shoulder. “My sweet boy. My gorgeous,
lost soul. Wonderful man.”

Noah turned his face to the carpet as Lyda slipped the
blindfold from him. His eyes stayed closed, his face relaxed, still lost in a
haze. Gen understood the feeling. The only thing tugging her toward reality was
the trickle of shock at the extraordinary things she’d done tonight. Her
languid state kept worry at bay. For now.

“Time for bed, for all of us.” Lyda rose, offering Gen a
hand. When she hauled her to her feet, she swayed. Lyda slid an arm around her
waist, letting her lean.

“I…”

“Sssh. Let it all go for tonight. You did beautifully.”

Relief filled her. Yet following, allowing things to happen,
wasn’t what she did. She never trusted anyone else in that way, but Lyda simply
took control and Gen let her. Lyda was right. She didn’t have the brain power
to interpret that, think about it now.