Divine Solace: 8 (39 page)

She slid off him, unnerved enough that she jumped a little
when his now-free hands grazed her, but it was only to steady her as she moved
onto her knees. She saw that dangerous look now held mischief. It was also more
evidence he’d recovered from earlier. Other feelings took over for her then,
such that she squeezed his hand. The shift in his eyes acknowledged her
emotions, that and his firm grip a quiet message of reassurance.
It’s okay.
I’m okay. Stop worrying.

She knew she’d keep worrying about it. He was an oscillating
wheel, the broken part of him out of sight, but not gone. However, thanks to
Lyda’s determination to keep sanity out of reach tonight, Gen was quickly
distracted again.

“I’m nowhere near done with you two. I want Gen on her knees
and you inside her from behind, Noah. Are you still hard enough to make that
happen?”

A quick glance showed him partially erect. He found a condom
in the coffee table, rolled it on. Gen moved onto hands and knees, wobbling
like a newborn filly. The woman was honestly trying to kill them.

“Put her on her elbows, Noah.”

The butterfly tingle in her clit increased to a flock of
birds as he curved one large hand around the back of Gen’s neck and pushed her
down to her elbows, supporting her to avoid a face plant. Putting his pelvis
against her bare ass, he fed his cock into her, pushing a little to accommodate
his not fully rigid state. Lyda had an answer for that.

“Start squeezing down on him, Gen. Neither of you is allowed
to move otherwise, though. You’re my performance art, a perfectly still statue
of two people fucking, but all the movement inside, working out all those
sensitive nerve endings.”

Gen obeyed. She closed her cunt muscles over Noah’s length.
Kept doing it rhythmically. Lyda had a devilish understanding of the way
arousal worked between two attracted bodies. As Gen milked him inside but they
were both forced to stay still outside, Noah’s grip on her hips increased. He
started getting hard again in no time. Which stretched her labia, put pressure
on her clit, and started to take her up that slope to arousal again as well. Oh
God, it felt so good to have him inside of her. She wanted to move.
Desperately.

Lyda had been eating throughout, making casual comments
about the tastiness of the meal, things that needed to be done at the nursery,
the damn meaning of the universe, for all Gen knew. Now she pushed her plate
away. “Gen, come here and take this to the kitchen. Refill it.”

It was a good thing the woman wasn’t in her mind, because
having Noah pull out of her resulted in some creative curses. She toddled
toward the table, her arousal coursing down her thigh. When she reached across
Lyda to take the plate, their Mistress slid one finger up that track and placed
it in her mouth, sucking in a way that had Gen almost dropping the plate.

“You’re evil,” she said.

Lyda’s eyes glinted. “No talking.”

Gen shut her mouth, went to the kitchen. She refilled the
plate as before, remembering the rule about ten o’clock placement and oblong
rice shapes. She locked on the guidelines as if the fate of world peace
depended on following a Mistress’s orders. There was a pleasure to it, a
frustration, a sense of security. Everything began and ended with her. Was that
another part of it for Noah, for every person who had this kind of craving to
submit?

Whatever. She’d save it for her next philosophical
discussion with Chloe. And good God, would she have some experiential knowledge
to bring to that discussion.

When she returned, Lyda had changed her robe for the one she’d
worn the other night. She must have had Noah retrieve it, for he was now
kneeling beside her. The transparent gray robe was on the chair next to her.

“Put that on and take a seat there, so Noah’s in between us.
I want him to see enough flashes of tits and pussy when you move to keep him
hard.”

Noah wet his lips at that, though Gen noticed Lyda had him
staring down at the floor right now. She also had his hands occupied. They were
motionless, double-wrapped around his cock, holding the stiffening member in a
pointed up position.

“Here, feed him this.” Lyda handed Gen a spring roll once
she complied with her commands. “Make him eat it from your fingers.”

Gen found the experience of feeding him even more absorbing
this time. As Noah closed his lips around the roll, his gaze lifted to meet
hers. Lyda watched them, her chin resting on her hand as Noah chewed. Gen
waited until he swallowed and looked to her for another bite. Lyda kept passing
food to her. Sometimes she made Gen eat, taking the food from her hand. In that
manner their Mistress fed them, making sure they both ate dinner, sending Gen
back to fill the plate once more and then emptying it in the same manner. Gen
feeding Noah, Lyda feeding Gen.

On the second plate, Lyda allowed Noah to release his cock,
which stood quite well on its own. She didn’t give him direction on where to
place his hand, so over time, Gen noticed he braced one on the seat of her
chair. As she shifted to feed him, she managed to position herself where his
knuckles were against the base of her thigh. Lyda didn’t prohibit it. She
stroked his hair as she had Gen take food from her fingertips.

Whereas the arousal she’d spawned before had been
overpowering and strong, this kept a nice sexual hum going, at a resonance Gen
could enjoy for hours. Days.

Finally, they were done. Lyda pushed the plate away, sat
back. “Noah, kiss Gen.”

He rose on his knees, sliding his arm around her waist. Gen
barely had time to draw an anticipatory breath before his mouth was on hers.
There was something to be said about restraining a man’s natural assertiveness.
It was like shaking a bottle of soda. He kissed her with a thoroughness that
had to be unique, had to be for the two of them alone, her and Lyda.

He belongs to us
, Gen thought fervently, staring into
his eyes when he pulled back. She’d destroy anyone who tried to hurt him. Lyda
would bury the body at her nursery. Use it for fertilizer.

“Missed a piece,” Lyda said. He lifted his head, turned his
attention to her. She had a piece of egg in her fingertips. He took it from her
with such gentleness, it made Gen ache. His attention was fastened on his
Mistress’s face with a raptness that matched the intensity of Gen’s kiss.

“We’re going to Gatlinburg with you, Noah. Both of us.”

From his startled expression, it was clear Lyda hadn’t
informed him that she was going, let alone Gen. But he rallied. “Yeah. I mean,
yes Mistress.”

Surprised, almost boyish pleasure crossed his face. Even
Lyda wasn’t immune to it, for her mouth firmed as if to hold back her own
smile. She caressed his jaw. “Be still,” she murmured, gripping his throat when
he started to lean forward. Lyda kissed him, teasing his tongue with hers,
holding that flesh and blood collar on his neck. It caused something between a
moan and a growl from him, those brown eyes showing pinpoints of fire.

When Lyda drew back, she rose from the table. “Wait for me.
No talking.”

She disappeared down the hallway, going out the back door.
Gen glanced at Noah, and was caught by his gaze. It was amazing how full
silence could become. By the time Lyda came back, about five minutes later, she
was literally lost in everything she saw in his eyes.

Lyda was carrying a book. Stepping out of the shoes she’d
donned to go outside, she turned toward the stairs to the second level without
stopping. “Follow me. Both of you.”

Noah rose, offered Gen his hand. She laced his fingers with
her own. She wanted to say so many things to him, but she kept letting her eyes
do it. Lyda was right. Words didn’t cover certain things. Lifting both her
hands to his face, he pressed his mouth against them. Tears pricked her eyes.
He nodded as if they’d actually spoken, and then led her in Lyda’s wake.

When they reached the doorway of the bedroom, Lyda was
standing by the bed. It was the first time Gen had noticed the cage had a two
doors in it, the second fitting into the design so seamlessly it would be
overlooked except when open, as now. A divider had been added to the cage, a
barred insert that turned one cage into two aligned side by side, so Lyda could
reach down and touch either of the occupants from the same side of the bed. A
mattress had been added to the new compartment and Noah’s mattress had been
rotated to accommodate the adjustment. Now Gen knew what Noah had been doing
those extra minutes alone upstairs.

“In you both go,” Lyda said. “And no, it’s not time to
sleep. Not yet.”

Something had changed when she retrieved the book. Though
her face was impassive, Gen picked up a tense note in her voice. Noah seemed to
as well, but he moved forward at Lyda’s command, holding onto Gen’s hand until
the last moment, as if he knew she needed the reassurance. Gen watched him take
his place beneath the bed, then lifted her gaze to Lyda’s.

“I know it’s not your thing,” her Mistress said. Her
expression softened slightly. “But for the next few minutes it is. You can
leave the door open.”

Gen thought it through. That very first night, Lyda had told
her she could refuse anything, without repercussions or guilt. Even now, she
was waiting on her, not in that impatient way to goad Gen’s arousal with a
Mistress’s demand or threat. She was giving Gen time to determine if this was a
hard limit.

Her gaze slid to Noah. He’d shifted to his side, had his
head propped on his fist, and was studying her. As her eyes slid down his body,
she noticed he had one foot threaded through the bars, into the cage she would
be occupying. Intentional or not, the whimsical gesture, the light in his eyes
as he saw her notice it, made her realize this was still within her control.
She could leave the door open, right?

Noah had said there was a security to sleeping inside of
cage. She supposed that depended on whether that cage rested beneath your
Mistress’s bed, a Mistress whom you trusted to hold your well-being above all
other things. By showing that trust, she supposed a sub gave the Mistress a
gift in return.

Taking a breath, Gen moved past Lyda. Giving her another
quick glance, she knelt and slid into the cage.

The sheets were pale lavender, and the pillow smelled like
that same herb, a pleasant, soothing scent. As Gen slid on to it, she slid down
far enough her foot touched Noah’s. He curled his toes over her arch, a quick
caress. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t let anything hurt you. Neither
would Lyda. You’re safe with us.”

So service-oriented he could be mistaken for a Dom. She saw
the proof of it in the wholly reassuring touch and tone, his direct look.

“Who do you serve, Noah?”

Lyda could issue commands, purr like a siren, or cut like a
whip with that voice. This was a new note, cold like an officer dressing down a
soldier for an infraction that could have gotten him killed. It brought Noah’s
head up and his full attention upon her.

“You, Mistress,” he said quietly. “I serve you.”

“I don’t believe you.” Lyda opened the book, withdrew a
folded piece of paper. “This was on the bedside table in the guest cottage.”

Lyda opened it with a snap, showing a bold scrawl. “This was
why you hadn’t pulled off the bedding yet, wasn’t it?”

Sleep on these sheets before you wash them. —Your Master

Gen stared at Noah. He’d dropped his gaze to the floor in
front of the cage, looking anywhere but at either of them.

“Look at me,” Lyda snapped. His head jerked up, though he
looked like he’d rather be Perseus looking at Medusa. “You would have done it. Answer
me, Noah.”

“Yes Mistress.” His jaw was rigid. “He told me to do it, and
it didn’t conflict—”

“His very presence on this property conflicts with your oath
to me,” Lyda snarled. “And I asked for a goddamn yes or no answer.”

“Yes Mistress.” Noah repeated. He was back to looking
miserable.

With the negative ions charging the air, Gen’s current
position felt even more exposed. She thought about leaving the cage, but she
already knew Lyda channeled her emotions with purpose. She’d ordered them into
the cage for a reason. As if underscoring that, Lyda glanced her way. Just a
brief flicker, but it helped Gen hold steady. Until Lyda spoke again.

“Gen had to learn a similar lesson tonight, Noah. That if
she belongs to me, she doesn’t let other women kiss her.” Her gaze shifted to
Gen. “I’m still not convinced. Until I say otherwise, whenever the clock chimes
the quarter hour, no matter what else we’re doing, you say ‘I’m yours,
Mistress’.”

“All this, for one kiss,” Gen said shakily.

“All this, for allowing another Mistress to touch you
without my permission. If you don’t want my ownership, all you have to do is
say so, right now. I let you out of the cage, we share a glass of wine. You can
curl up with me in the bed.”

“But it changes things, doesn’t it? You want more than that
from me. You want me to belong to you, like him.”

“Yes, I expect you both to fully belong to me.” Gen trembled
at the passion in Lyda’s gaze, a dragoness roused from her lair. “You wanted
Marguerite to kiss you to prove something to yourself. Now you prove something
to me. Watch the clock, and be still.”

Lyda unlatched Noah’s cage, jerked her head at him. “If you
want to prove who you serve, Noah, serve your Mistress now. Get out here.”

* * * * *

The man had his insubordinate moments, but Lyda’s anger made
him obedient as a disciple of God. Noah was out in a heartbeat, a flexible,
quick roll and slide that brought him nearly to Lyda’s feet, on his knees. He
looked at her with such a yearning expression, Gen felt a hitch in her chest. Everything
about him said
Yours, Mistress.
Yet he’d said he’d go back to Elias if
she released him, as if it was as simple as that.