Divine Solace: 8 (38 page)

It was a feeling Gen had sought for so long. And no matter
how she tried to deny it, she was well on her way to finding it with these two.
When she looked down, her hand was clasped around Lyda’s free one, those fingers
linked with hers. As Lyda said, it was like she’d stepped into a story that had
just been waiting for her to join it.

“I don’t think that tattoo was meant for any asshole Dom who
steps into Noah’s path, like Elias,” Lyda murmured. “It’s like an SOS to the
Dom he’s meant to be with.”

“A soul mate.”

“I’m too cynical to go that far, but yes, something like
that. It’s a specific message to a specific person. The irony is, Noah would
rescue you or me from a burning building, or lie down across acid so we
wouldn’t get a single drop on our shoes, but in the end, Gen, it’s him who
needs saving. From himself. There’s a wire that doesn’t connect, and if it’s
possible for that connection to be repaired, it will happen with the person…or
people…he’s meant to be with. I was arrogant enough to believe I was that
person, but the past couple weeks, I’m thinking it might actually take two
people, not just one.”

The implication rendered Gen silent, keeping her thinking.
Lyda didn’t say more than that, offering the glass again. When Gen handed it
back, she held onto it long enough to put her mouth on Lyda’s knuckles. While
doing that, she leaned her head against Lyda’s breast as the woman bent her
head over hers. Taking and giving comfort.

“I didn’t want to leave him,” Gen said against that curve.
She felt the edge of Lyda’s bra cup beneath the thin blouse, the flesh it
cradled. “It cracked me open, seeing him that way. Odd as it sounds, it
happened again when I imagined Elias throwing him out, telling him to give back
the collar.” She was seeing that uncomprehending look in Noah’s eyes, the
despair he’d shown before he went postal on the boat.

She closed her eyes. “Which was good, because he was the
wrong Dom. But…you’re not going to make him leave, right?”

“No,” Lyda said. Her lips brushed Gen’s temple, her cheek.
“As you go along in life, you realize it isn’t finding the perfect guy or girl.
It’s finding the person who’s perfect for you, in the sense life would be a lot
worse without them. Noah brings a lot into my life. I’m just trying to figure
out what that means to him. What I want to teach him is selfish, but true for
the relationship to work. I want to be his choice, not just the Mistress who
chose him. I have this inner bitch who wants to be told I’m the one.”

Gen lifted her head to look at her. “Everyone wants to know
they’re the one. The only.”

“Even if the only means two, not one.”

The reassurance gave Gen’s heart a lift, enough that she
squeezed Lyda’s hand. “I’m familiar with your inner bitch. It’s not all that
inner.”

“Nice. I’ll remember that, rabbit.” Lyda tugged her hair,
sighed. “It’s a unique thing for me, to find one I want to keep. Not just until
it wears out. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure it never does.
But how to work around this, confront it head-on, make peace with it…” She
shrugged.

“Do you know what caused it?”

Lyda finished the wine, set it aside. When Gen gave the
empty glass a quizzical look, she shook her head. “We’ve both had enough for
now. As far as the why… We’re a world of broken toys. Sometimes I think whoever
made us set us aside in favor of whole, perfect toys elsewhere, and yet the
laugh’s on them, because we’re ten times more fascinating and tougher broken
than something that’s never been broken at all.”

Gen thought about the inner strength she’d discovered after
divorce, destitution. Yeah, it could be like that.

“Except for his grandmother, Noah is estranged from his
family,” Lyda said. “His parents rejected him, his father the head of that
particular spear. What I’ve learned through bits and pieces, because Noah
doesn’t talk about it much, is his father first thought he was gay, then found
out it was ‘even worse’. He learned his teenage son was a sexual submissive, a
hardcore one, and he found out in a pretty graphic way. My guess is he probably
stumbled on him in a Dom/sub session with someone older, maybe a college
student already in touch with his inner Dom. Whatever it was, Dad couldn’t wrap
his mind around it, saw it as a sickness.”

Lyda took a breath. “Ben’s fiancée did some digging. Marcie
does corporate investigations and is damn good at it. Ben says she could find
Jimmy Hoffa. Noah’s father had him committed to some whacked deprogramming
institution at seventeen. Nothing took, of course, because Noah is…Noah.” Her
lips twisted. “That’s the irony. There’s this steel core to him that can’t be
changed. Noah knows what he is, and you can’t knock him off that tightrope with
a sledgehammer. Not even with enough meds to turn someone into a zombie.”

Gen sucked in a breath. Lyda closed her hand alongside her
throat, thumb rubbing a soothing caress. “At twenty-one,” she continued, “They
washed their hands of him. Noah’s father signed him out of the institution,
handed him a duffle bag of clothes and told him he was dead to them. He was
never to come back, call them, what have you.”

Gen thought of Noah’s duffle. It was old but carefully
tended, with a few mended corners reinforced with heavy duty canvas thread,
perhaps like that used to stitch boat sails.
Oh God.
It had to be the
same one.

The scenario was a mirror of the scene with Elias. Of every
Dom who’d ever cut him loose. It was happening again and again…

“The mental institution may have added layers,” Lyda said,
“but I think it was the betrayal of his family that severed that wire in his
head. Or it could have been there from the beginning. Sometimes we’re born the
way we are.”

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.”

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 need, 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 against 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.

Lyda chuckled. “Gen, behave, or I’ll let Noah spank you.
He’ll only tolerate so much teasing from another sub, even one I’m commanding.
He enjoys making a pretty female ass rosy, almost as much as he likes having it
done to him.”

Looking down, Gen discovered Noah’s gaze glittering with a
promise of retribution, a hint of his savagery threaded with thrilling intent.