“I told you.” Coralie smiles warmly, admiring her handiwork. “Now, if you’ll permit me to do so, I’d like to finish what we started at the dinner table.”
Pet cocks her head, her brow furrowed.
“I want to give you a little of what you never got to taste.” Coralie moves toward to the granite counter and tugs up the hem of her skirt, holding it mid-thigh.
Realizing what she has in mind, Pet’s breathing quickens. Her anxiety apparent, she backs up a half-step and bumps into a wall, her retreat impeded.
“Don’t you want to?” Coralie loosens her grip on the satin, as if to drop it …
On impulse, Pet lunges forward, placing her hand over Coralie’s, preventing her from letting go. Immediately shocked by her own behavior, she then recoils, stuffing both hands in her pockets, her head dipped meekly. She ought never to touch a Mistress unless invited to do so. She ought not to be here at all, and yet … she’s salivating, her priapus twitching inside her clothes, and she can’t tear her eyes away from the treasure hiding at the apex of Coralie’s thighs.
“It’s okay.” Coralie lifts herself up onto the counter. “I won’t ask you to break any of your vows. I just want you to watch. Like you did before.”
She bunches her skirt around her hips, exposing that lush, full mound of dark hair at her core, and tickles her fingers around her hidden clit.
Within seconds, Pet’s erection—which had withered only slightly since Coralie’s display in the hall—is back at full force, straining inside her pants. Feeling a droplet of excitement ooze from the tip and dribble down her thigh, she groans.
“Come closer, Pet,” Coralie begs huskily. “I promise I won’t touch you.”
Pet obeys, albeit hesitantly, entranced by the action of Coralie’s fingers. When she’s near enough, Coralie places one foot on her shoulder and leans back against the wall, opening herself up, giving Pet an enhanced view.
“Oh, Pet.” She probes herself vigorously, knowing that Pet’s attention is glued to her carmine slit. “I wish you could feel how wet you make me.”
She begins to shake.
Feeling the pre-orgasmic tension in her body, Pet pulls her hands out of her pockets and clasps Coralie’s ankle, stroking and rubbing it, her gentle touch enough to send the misbehaving Mistress over the edge.
“Do you want me to come for you?” Coralie inadvertently digs her stiletto heel into Pet’s shoulder, her body shuddering , her cunt clenching around her fingers. “Tell me! Quick!”
Pet whimpers, nodding fervently.
“Oh, darling! Yes!” Coralie wails at the ceiling, the moment of crisis upon her.
For a full minute thereafter, she doesn’t move, her body limp, her head spinning. All the while, Pet continues to caress her ankle and calf—the few parts of her she feels comfortable groping—and purrs softly, vocalizing her pleasure in the only way she can.
When she’s suitably recovered, Coralie slides her foot off Pet’s shoulder and sits up, easing her fingers out of her lubricious channel. “For you, my sweet.” She runs the tip of her index finger over Pet’s lips, painting her with a sheen of sex gloss.
On the brink of ejaculation once again, Pet hesitates and looks back at Isabelle. It isn’t proper for a bonded companion to be hand-fed by anyone other than her Mistress, but … this isn’t food, is it? Torn between lust and propriety, she dithers, her lips trembling.
“It’s all right.” Coralie tiptoes her fingertips into Pet’s mouth. “I won’t tell.”
Weak to the temptation, as she was underneath the dinner table, Pet succumbs. She wraps her lips around Coralie’s fingers and sucks them clean, swirling her tongue around the sticky digits, relishing her first forbidden taste of Coralie’s womanhood. A moment later, she feels a spontaneous burst of heat just south of her crotch, her swollen priapus spewing a torrent of hot cream into her pants.
Blushing ferociously, she releases Coralie’s fingers and attempts to cover herself. Still spurting, she looks down at her unruly augmentation, silently cursing it for its lack of control as the viscous fluid seeps through the fabric of her jeans.
“Oh, darling.” Coralie follows the direction of her gaze, thrilled by the sheer amount of ejaculate she’s able to produce. “I’m so glad you enjoyed this as much as I did.”
Pet’s brow creases and she whines, distressed by the obviousness of her condition, afraid that her Mistress will wake and see her covered in her own seminal fluid—her precious milt.
“No need to fret.” Coralie hops down off the counter and straightens her dress. “Go upstairs and clean yourself.”
Pet shakes her head violently, jabbing her finger in the direction of her Mistress.
“Do as I say,” Coralie insists firmly, but with a reassuring smile. “Mistress Isabelle is in no condition to give you instruction. If anyone questions your whereabouts, I shall take the blame. But go now.”
Struck by the authority in Coralie’s voice, Pet does as she’s told. As soon as she’s gone, Coralie’s smile drops, a scowl taking its place. She strides over to Isabelle, grabs a fistful of her hair, and heaves her up from the floor. Demonstrating an unlikely amount of strength, she pulls the now gurgling, mumbling Mistress across the room and throws her over the counter, smacking her head on the granite.
“Wake up,” she growls, shoving Isabelle’s face into the porcelain basin and turning on the faucet, spraying her face with cold water.
Isabelle regains some semblance of consciousness and tries to fight Coralie off, coughing and sputtering, but Coralie is a good deal stronger and keeps her pinned.
“You’re a disgrace!” Coralie looms over her. “Pet deserves better.”
With that, she throws Isabelle to the floor and walks out, the stench of sex lingering in the air.
CHAPTER THREE
Coralie lies awake, the night moving into the wee hours of the morning. Her luxury room, with its four-poster bed, goose feather pillows, and roaring fire, brings her no comfort. She hates sleeping alone. If she could, she’d make a visit to the coterie to engage the services of one or two playmates, but High Council members are prohibited from doing so.
Making use of the coterie is a luxury afforded only to junior members of the coven in preparation for their ascent to the High Council. It gives young Mistresses an opportunity to explore relationships with a variety of potential companions, learning how to exert their authority and gaining sexual confidence along the way. Not that Coralie ever had any trouble with that. From the very outset, she knew she loved sex and wanted as much of it as possible, her insatiable appetite quickly gaining her a reputation for being hot cunted.
But such loose behavior is not considered appropriate for someone on the High Council. Now, she’s expected to choose a bond and commence the very serious business of procreation. Fucking for fun isn’t part of the agenda, which is already proving to be problematic, since her libido is stuck on full throttle.
To make matters worse, her room is across the hall from Mistress Isabelle’s. The simple thought that Pet is so near, but tucked up in bed with another Mistress, probably screwing her senseless, is driving Coralie to the brink of insanity.
In desperate need of relief, she retrieves a sleek glass dildo from the bedside table and sets to work pleasuring herself. Lying on her back, as if ready to be mounted, she swirls the head of the dildo around her drenched slit.
“Oh, Pet,” she murmurs, plunging the hard phallus deep into her sex. “I wish you were mine.” She draws it out to the tip and drives it all the way back in, moaning as the tapered head bumps her cervix. “I want you to fuck me.”
With increasing intensity, she works the glass cock inside herself, ramming it harder and faster until she screams through her orgasm, calling out Pet’s name.
When her paroxysm passes, she pulls the slathered-up toy from her depths and tosses it onto the carpeted floor, sighing discontentedly. While moderately satisfying for a few fleeting minutes, it’s a poor substitute for intimate
contact. Something must be done.
Frustrated, she flings back the duvet and clambers out of bed, pulling a silk robe on over her negligee before padding quietly out of her bedroom, startled to find Pet sitting on the floor in the hall outside Isabelle’s room.
The bashful brunette, caught off-guard by Coralie’s sudden emergence, chews on her bottom lip, peering up at Coralie with raised eyebrows, her knees tucked up to her chin, looking every bit like a mischievous puppy.
Wondering why, Coralie takes but a step, her foot splatting in a puddle of warm fluid. Upon investigation, she’s surprised to see a splooge of thick white milt squishing between her toes. And there’s not just the puddle on the floor. Apparently firing without aim, Pet’s emission is dripping down Coralie’s door, the wall, and soaking the flowers in a nearby vase.
“Goodness!” Coralie lifts her foot, wiping it off on the hallway rug. “You really come in bucket loads, don’t you? You messy little thing.” She winks, showing Pet that she’s not in the least bit upset. In fact, she feels strangely proud.
Knowing that Pet can’t touch herself without explicit permission from her Mistress, she concludes that this rather sticky accident was the product of another uncontrolled eruption, only this time, Pet had the forethought to pull her priapus out of her pants before it was too late.
“I take it you heard me enjoying myself.” Coralie sidesteps the rest of Pet’s spillage and crouches beside her. “It wasn’t my intention to tease you. I assumed you’d be engaged in some nocturnal activities of your own.”
Pet scrunches up her nose and snorts, expressing revulsion at the thought of being intimate with her Mistress.
Curious for her to expound on that, Coralie presses the topic. “Are you not attracted to Mistress Isabelle?”
Afraid that she’s been too free with her thoughts and feelings already today, Pet shies away, declining to answer.
Undeterred, Coralie tries a different angle. “What’re you doing out here all alone, Pet? Are you not permitted to sleep with your Mistress?”
This, Pet answers by pointing upwards to a large skylight window in the ceiling. Up there, in perfect view, is the moon. It’s not quite full, which means there’s no chance of any copulation resulting in conception tonight.
“Ah.” Coralie understands perfectly. “You’re of no use to her, so you’ve been cast aside. How frightfully boring for you.” An idea sparks, her eyes twinkling wickedly. “Would you like to come somewhere with me instead?”
Pet shrinks back, her brows knitted, pained to have to reject Coralie’s invitation.
“Are you forbidden from moving?” Coralie guesses.
Pet nods.
“Very well.” Coralie smiles broadly. “Then I shall bring the fun to you.” She gets to her feet, ruffling a hand through Pet’s hair. “I’ll be right back.”
She disappears down the hall and into darkness, but sure enough—and much to Pet’s very pleasant surprise—she does indeed return several minutes later, wearing a grin and bearing a plate of food: cheese, bread, and grapes, all stolen from the kitchen.
“Food for your tummy.” She sets the plate on the floor. “And food for your eyes.” She straightens up, tugging the waist tie of her robe undone and opening it to unveil a short white silk negligee, the front laced from navel to bust, cinching her breasts into the corset-like garment.
As the robe slides off her shoulders, something in one of the pockets hits the carpet with a thud, but Pet’s focus is elsewhere. Coralie still isn’t wearing any knickers. Her sex is plainly visible, and—despite her recent release—Pet feels a certain part of her anatomy swelling at the sight.
“Peek-a-boo!” Coralie flips up the hem of the negligee, giving the lonely young companion a quick flash before lowering herself to the floor. “May I feed you?” She snuggles close, breaks off a piece of the cheese, and offers it to Pet’s mouth, fully expecting to be rebuffed.
And she is. Pet closes her eyes, letting the cheese bump against her clamped lips, whining to let Coralie know how much she wants to accept, but that she’s unable to take even one bite for fear of being unfaithful to her Mistress. They’ve already pushed too many boundaries.
Sympathetic to Pet’s moral quandary, Coralie withdraws her hand. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. If you feel that it’s improper for me to be so intimate with you, you may help yourself.” She gives the plate a push, nudging it closer to her. “Please. You need to eat, love.”
Pet’s too hungry to argue. She takes a piece of cheese from the plate and brings it to her mouth, nibbling on the corner of it like a tiny mouse.
“Good, Pet.” Coralie fingers Pet’s long bangs out of her eyes. “I don’t want you to go without. You must be absolutely ravenous.”
For a few minutes, she lets Pet eat in silence, watching her devour the bread and cheese in hurried but dainty bites, wishing she could feed her the grapes. One by one. Slowly. Sensually. She tries to keep her thoughts away from sex, but every now and again, Pet’s gaze wanders to her cleavage, lingering there for several seconds before shyness causes her to turn away.
“Do you like the way I look?” Coralie hooks her fingers around the neckline of her negligee and tugs the silk down a few inches, showing off more of her breasts. “There’s no harm in looking.” She pushes her palms up under her breasts, thrusting them together and outward, emphasizing the deep valley between them. “Do you want to see more?” She unties the bow at the bust of her negligee, loosening the lace, her breasts bulging forward.
Pet averts her eyes and fidgets awkwardly, crooking one knee to conceal her groin. As she does, she squeezes her eyes shut and holds her breath, trying to quell her arousal. It doesn’t work, but she doesn’t let out the breath that’s trapped in her lungs until she feels Coralie’s warm hand on her knee, coaxing her to be more open.
“Oh, darling. Please don’t hide.” Coralie fixes her eyes to the prominent bulge in Pet’s crotch. “You’re so beautiful.” She holds her hand out, hovering inches away from Pet’s lap, feeling the heat radiating from her erection. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t let you spend the night anywhere but in my bed.” She smirks, lolling against the wall. “Of course, I’d expect you to tend to me at all hours, putting your delightful assets to good use.” She loops her arm through Pet’s. “Do you think you’d like that?” She gives the timid companion a squeeze.
Pet would love to answer, but all she can think about is how one of Coralie’s weighty breasts is smooshed against her arm. She remains silent, trying for all the world not to think about tending to Coralie’s sexual needs, but Coralie isn’t about to let her off the hook.
“Would you enjoy making love to me?” the seductive Mistress coos, caressing her would-be companion’s chest.
In response, Pet groans softly. Leaning her head back, she savors the sensation of Coralie’s hand making repetitive passes over her ribcage, rubbing just below her breasts.
“My sweet Pet.” Coralie rests her head on Pet’s shoulder. “You’re driving me crazy.”
At that, Pet breaks into a toothy smile and gestures to her turgid priapus, a small wet spot appearing at the tip.
Coralie chuckles. “I suppose I’m having a bit of an effect on you, too, huh?” She sighs wistfully, transfixed on Pet’s anatomy. “Does Mistress Isabelle allow you to relieve your tension in any way?”
Pet shakes her head.
“Have you ever touched yourself?”
More forlorn shaking, a tear cascading down Pet’s face, splashing onto Coralie’s nose.
Saddened that Pet’s sobbing, Coralie brushes the tear away, pressing her hand to Pet’s cheek. “If I could release you from your bond to Mistress Isabelle, would you like that? Would it make you happy?”
Pet nods feverishly, nuzzling Coralie’s palm.
“Then so it must be.” Coralie kisses her teary cheek. “I will find a way.” She brings her mouth close to Pet’s ear. “I want you to be mine.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Dinner is a sedate affair. While discussion among many of the Mistresses inevitably revolves around fertility and conception, Coralie remains quiet. As the only unbonded Mistress at the table, she has nothing much to add on the subject, and all the talk of pregnancy makes her irritated and envious. Still, she manages to flash Pet a few forced smiles, silently assuring her that their exchange last night has not been forgotten.
Unfortunately, Pet is little comforted by those assurances. Impotent in her bond to Mistress Isabelle, she sees no possible way in which Coralie can procure her, and if she breaks her vow of fidelity, she’ll be stripped of her collar and expelled from the coven.
Despondent, her thoughts heavy and her plate empty for the second night in a row, she curls up on her cushion beside her Mistress, watching beneath the table as Coralie taps the toe of one black stiletto on the floor in an impatient fashion, as if waiting for a train that’s late to arrive.
She hopes for a replay of last night’s flirtation, but nothing happens. This evening, Coralie is wearing a short, tight black dress, showing off her long, toned legs. She looks ravishing, and Pet would love nothing more than to crawl under the table and plant kisses on her cute feet. Her ankles. Her shins. Her thighs. Her cunt.
Willing an erection not to rise, Pet closes her eyes, trying not to think about sucking Coralie’s fingers clean in the washroom. She’d never tasted anything as sweet. Coralie’s sex was like liquid sugar on her tongue.
In comparison, she almost retches every time a drunken Mistress Isabelle drags her into bed, demanding oral pleasure. Not that it happens often. Isabelle’s waning sex drive only seems to surface on moon nights, or when she feels like asserting herself as the dominant partner. There’s no love shared between them. There never was.
Eavesdropping on tableside chitchat, Pet’s ears prick when the conversation turns to the topic of Coralie choosing a companion. Not wanting Coralie to think her disinterested, she sits upright, making her presence known.
Come, My Pet Page 3
