Divine Solace: 8 (50 page)

“You’re glazing over just thinking about it. Aren’t you?”
Lyda asked. Gen’s chest tightened, heart overwhelmed and eyes stinging at that
familiar sultry purr. “I’m goddamned glad I’m not the only one. Answer your
Mistress.”

“Yes.” Gen shifted onto her knees as Lyda slid a hand along
her face, under her hair, and brought her up, right to her mouth.

Gen groaned, her hands clasping Lyda’s arm, the other
touching Lyda’s face, stroking over the new growth of her lovely, lovely hair
as Lyda coaxed open her lips and teased her with her tongue. Gen’s whole body
drew in a shuddering breath, making it obvious how much desire she’d been
tamping down as things were getting closer back to normal.

“I want to touch you everywhere,” she said against Lyda’s
mouth.

“We’ll see about that. If that’s what you want, you better
dress for it. Convince me. Both of you. And I want to go out to dinner.
Joseph’s.”

“Italian?” Gen’s brows lifted, making Lyda smile. With her
pixie hairstyle, the gesture enhanced the size and depth of her gray eyes.

“Yes. Pasta. Bread. Maybe even dessert.”

Gen reached out as if to take her temperature and Lyda
swatted her hand away. Gen grinned. “Just checking. Was afraid you were
delusional.”

“My skull was fractured, but my brain was not affected,”
Lyda retorted.

“Because your head was too hard to break. Doesn’t mean it
didn’t rattle something around in there.”

Lyda pushed the chair back. “Just for that, you’ll help me
bathe and dress tonight.”

* * * * *

Though Gen had been doing that for a while, with Noah’s help
when Lyda wasn’t able to support her own weight, it was clear tonight was going
to be different. Lyda didn’t require her help as a recovering accident patient.
She was commanding Gen’s service, a Mistress who knew the power of giving her
submissives access to every inch of her body with no permission to take
pleasure from it, except for the intense arousal that denial provided.

When Noah had returned home, Lyda had wasted no time telling
him the same thing she’d told Gen. When they’d heard the truck return, heard
him talking to the other men, Lyda had called out his name. A few moments later
he’d appeared around the corner. He’d been sweaty and dirty, looking as
delectably rugged and masculine as Lyda had described. As he pulled off his
work gloves, glancing expectantly toward Gen, Lyda’s cool voice drew his gaze.
“You’ll be attending me tonight, Noah,” she said. “Do you understand?”

“Yes Mistress.”

It had only taken the tone of Lyda’s voice, and Gen saw a
potent flash of that same fire in Noah’s eyes, banked for far too long. Gen
felt an answering surge in her own desires. The three of them were going to set
the backyard on fire just by thinking of all they wanted from each other. What
they’d been wanting from each other. Because that was tied up with deeper,
emotional yearnings, it was possible it might just turn them all to ash when
fully unleashed. She didn’t think any of them cared.

“You’ll finish up by six and join us in the bathroom,” Lyda
had said, and that was that.

Now it was 6:10, and they were in the bathroom. Lyda had
ordered Noah to sit on the commode outside the large Jacuzzi tub in his shorts
only. In the same breath she’d commanded Gen to strip. Noah was allowed to give
her a steadying hand as she stepped into the tub to kneel between Lyda’s legs,
but then he had to keep his hands to himself. Their Mistress sat on a shower
stool in the steaming water. At Lyda’s nod, Gen took up the soap and began to
wash the long legs under his avid gaze.

Her limbs had lost muscle tone these past weeks, but Lyda
was recovering some of it, with her adherence to the rehab schedule and the
water aerobics regimen the doctor was permitting her. Though Lyda grumbled
about being part of the old lady water brigade, Gen thought she was actually
enjoying it. Now.

Lyda had met many challenges in her life, but dealing with a
body incapable of what she demanded from it had not been one of them. The
morning of the third class, she hadn’t felt well, but she’d insisted on going.
Inevitably, she started to feel nauseous and barely made it to the side of the
pool. She couldn’t make it out in time, but Gen was already ready with the
airsickness bag. Lyda lost her breakfast and stood there shivering, her head
down. That was when Gen heard a muttered “Fuck” and realized tears were running
down her Mistress’s face. Lyda had her head bowed to hide them, shoulders
clenched like a fist, her anger at her own weakness.

That was when several of the elderly women in the class came
over. One of them put a hand on Lyda’s back, another touching her shorn hair.
“It’s all right, honey… You’re doing great… Don’t you worry about it. We won’t
tell you how many of us with our weak bladders pee right here in this pool
whenever we cough or sneeze. It’s a good thing they use lots of chlorine.”

Lyda managed a half chuckle, half snort at that, but the
tears kept coming. Gen knew it was prescription meds and physical exhaustion,
but that didn’t matter to Lyda. Afraid her Mistress might drown herself rather
than show weakness. Gen was down on her knees on the edge of the pool, folding
her arms around her. Of course, proving her theory, that just made Lyda stiffen
like a board. The women exchanged a look, a message sent and received.

“All right then.” One gave Lyda a brisk pat. “If you’re all
done here, come back over and join us. We’re trying an Isadora Duncan move
today and you’re going to be the center of the flower. Think you’re up to
standing still?”

Lyda used her forearm to swipe impatiently at the tears.
“Don’t baby me.”

“Baby you? Honey, I was a combat nurse in Vietnam. If you
think a little vomiting’s going to get you out of this, you have another think
coming. When new nurses fainted, I just threw water in their faces and barked
at them to get their asses up off the ground.”

Lyda gave Gen’s hand a squeeze to tell her she was okay and
went back into the class. Over the subsequent weeks, the women never stopped
encouraging her in their practical way. Over time it was clear Lyda was both
deeply moved by their compassion and quietly humbled by it, a new look for her.
Some of the women brought things to Gen to help “fatten her up”. One day,
reading a magazine and waiting for Lyda to finish, Gen was amused to see one of
the ladies point to her and whisper to her friend, “I’m pretty sure she’s with
her, Brigitte. As in
with
her.”

You bet your ass
, she’d thought, surprised by how
strongly she meant it.
But wouldn’t you be surprised if you knew that wasn’t
all of it?
She had a spurt of devilish intent, imagining Noah coming to a
class with them.

Tuning back into the present, because there was no place
she’d rather be when Lyda was naked, wet and slippery with soap, she worked her
way up her legs.

“Be mindful of our audience, rabbit.” Lyda gazed down at
her, reflecting the sensual mischief Gen had just been experiencing.

As Lyda spread her legs and grasped the shower bar, Gen
washed between her legs…very thoroughly. Slow rotations, teasing the labia with
her fingers, rubbing over the clit as Lyda sighed. Gen wasn’t sure she was
strong enough for an orgasm, but she could obviously enjoy arousal.

The bruising on Noah’s ribs had disappeared, but he’d had a
nasty, deep gash caused by the broken glass of the rear window raking down his
back as the car dropped from around him. The stitches had been removed, but the
scar would be permanent. She’d noticed it had bisected
Yours Unconditionally
,
taking out the “un”. She wasn’t sure if he’d noticed that, but she’d been far
more concerned with how close that gash had come to cutting through his spine.

Noah had been shirtless around Lyda a few times, especially
on the nights he’d taken his turn on the master bedroom couch where he could
watch over her, but Gen wasn’t sure if Lyda had marked the change, either.
Tonight was the first time since the accident that any of them would be
indulging in slow, leisurely…noticing.

She wanted to touch every inch of Lyda, not just the parts
Noah might find more fascinating to see her touch. The good thing was that she
could please all of them, at her own pace. So she took her time working up to
Lyda’s breasts. Once there, she cupped them, spreading her fingers out over
their shape, noting the weight, the color of the nipples, the areolae, the
track of her breastbone up to her throat. She noticed every wound, though all had
healed well enough the stitches were gone.

She flattened her palms onto her shoulders, slid her thumbs
into the crevices of collarbone, over the base of the throat, her nape, then
she was close, sliding her hands down Lyda’s back, along her shoulder blades as
Lyda put an arm around her, fingers stroking Gen’s hip. She brought her down
for a brush of lips.

“You’ve gotten possessive on me.”

It was then Gen realized she’d started murmuring as she
stroked Lyda’s body. Two words. Repeated at the same floating pace of the steam
swirling around them.

“Mine. Ours.”

Lyda didn’t seem offended. More bemused. Gen turned her
attention to the right arm, now healed enough to be brace free. She soaped it
to slickness, taking care with every individual finger, elbow, armpit, the
beating pulse of her wrist.

“You’re putting Noah into a trance,” Lyda observed with a
light smile, though her eyes were serious.

Gen paused, resting her hand and the soap on Lyda’s thigh to
twist around. He was sitting on the closed commode lid, back straight, hands on
his thighs. The lust in his expression was eclipsed by a yearning that matched
what Gen was feeling as she savored every inch of their Mistress.

“I need someone to do my feet while you do my back. Don’t
you think?” Lyda glanced down at her.

“Definitely,” Gen said. Lyda gave her an affectionate
caress.

“My pets are never selfish. They’re always willing to share
with one another. I like that. Noah, take off your clothes and come join us. Do
my feet.”

Noah slid off the boxers, the only thing he’d been wearing
in anticipation of his own shower. He had to work the waistband over his
erection, which they watched in appreciation. Gen angled the spray so she could
move around to wash Lyda’s back while he took her place. Kneeling between
Lyda’s feet, he took a second bar of soap from the basket to work on the arches
and heels, massaging them so the woman leaned back, head cradled on Gen’s
breasts, eyes half closed in bliss as he worked magic.

As Gen slid against her Mistress’ soap-slick skin, Lyda
reached back, gripping her buttock so Gen rubbed her mound against her lower
back. “Nice,” Lyda said in a throaty voice. Gen worked soap up her neck, behind
her ears, inside the delicate shells. Then Lyda tipped back her head and Gen
angled the spray to wet her short hair.

“Only need about a drop of shampoo for that,” Lyda observed,
eyes closed, water droplets running over her cheeks, her lips. Gen wanted to
suck every bead off them, but worked the shampoo into the baby soft thatch
instead.

“I love the color. It has even more gold in it, like fire
light.”

“Stop at my knees, Noah.” Lyda tapped his hand as Noah’s
fingers started drifting up her thighs. “You don’t get that until later. And
only if you’re very, very good. Do you think he knows how to be that good,
Gen?”

“Well, he is male, and not entirely housetrained.” When she
shot him a teasing look, he gave her a deliberately not-housetrained
expression. “Though he does look like he did when he wanted to spank me.”

“I’ll bet.” Lyda reached out blind, found his face. Noah
nuzzled her, closing his fingers over her wrist to apply the talents of his
tongue to her palm. A tremor of arousal went through Lyda, echoed in Gen’s own
body. But her Mistress wasn’t going to let them control things tonight. As soon
as Gen finished rinsing her hair, Lyda drew her hand back and prodded Noah with
her toe, setting him back as she straightened.

“That’s enough of that. Gen, help me dress. Noah, take our
place in the shower and then go get your things out of the guesthouse. You can
get dressed in the guest bath.” Her gaze met his. “From now on, I want you both
staying in the house.”

His face had that hard-to-read expression, but he nodded.
“Yes Mistress.”

Lyda gave them a sweeping look. “Remember, when you’re
deciding what to wear tonight, I expect proof that my pets want their
Mistress.”

Wanting Lyda was as inevitable as wanting air to breathe. A
feeling that became more agonizing for Gen when they’d left the shower and Lyda
decided her foundation garments for the night would be a black corset and sheer
black panties that hinted at the folds of her sex. The tiny sparkles sprinkled
over the fabric enhanced the tempting look. After his shower, Noah was called
to help with the lacing. Gen had helped Lyda into the short black skirt that
went under it, so their Mistress stood unsteadily in just that, holding onto
Gen’s hands, while Noah arranged the ties in back.

Watch this
, Lyda mouthed, giving Gen a wink.

Gen had seen Chloe lace up a corset before, and though the
girl knew what she was doing, it was a pull, adjust, pull adjust, tie-off
process that could take a few minutes. Apparently, Noah put all the adjustment
into the front end of the process, his brow creased, his eyes intent as he
worked. When he finally said “Ready?” Lyda met Gen’s gaze and tightened her
grip on Gen’s hands.

Noah pulled the corset tight in one, smooth pull that nipped
in Lyda’s waist, pushed her breasts upward, and gave her hips that appealing
flare.

The breath that left Lyda from the expert adjustment was no
more about the hold of the corset than the one that left Gen, just watching it.
Lyda gave her a knowing, amused look. “Any thoughts about what you want to wear
tonight?”