Soul Rest

by Joey W. Hill

  They'd approached a pair of women who were finishing a conversation with another couple Celeste didn't know. Celeste hadn't had much direct experience with the female side of the Dominant equation, but the woman called Lyda was obviously on the Dom side of the fence. Way beyond that fence, and all the way up the side of a mountain with it. She had gunmetal silver eyes and an enviable figure outfitted in black latex pants that fit like skin. Her black-and-white pinstriped vest had nothing under it except a pair of firm breasts and more silky pale skin. She had a thin tie looped around her bare throat and tucked into the neckline, nestled into her cleavage. There was a diamond stickpin in the tie. Her long and thick dark-red hair was tied back off her bare shoulders.

  Celeste deduced Gen was the woman standing in her arm span. A thirty-something with tawny brown hair and green eyes like fresh juniper, she exuded a quiet, humming sexuality. It wasn't the out-front appeal that Lyda had, but it seemed fanned to life and kept to a steady flame by the Domme's attention. Celeste wondered if she would put off the same vibe after prolonged exposure to Leland. Until these past couple weeks with him, she'd forgotten what being in direct communication with herself as a sexual being had felt like.

  Lyda gave Celeste a sweeping glance and nodded, granting permission for Rachel to introduce Celeste to Gen. The music wasn't yet turned off, but Leland's behavior, and now Rachel's, asking the Domme for permission to speak to her sub, told Celeste the protocol was already in place. It made those butterflies in her stomach more active, her desire to turn and look at Leland all the stronger, but she tamped it down and focused on being polite. She could move and breathe without her Master's direction, for heaven's sake. Without Leland's direction. This room and all the weird Dom/sub energy was spinning a spell over her. Like being at bondage Disneyland.

  "Celeste, this is Gen. I thought you two might want to meet. Something about your personalities suggested to me you could become good friends."

  Celeste's gaze flicked to Rachel, startled, but all she read from Rachel's face was the general instinct of a good people person. "Hello," she said, offering her hand to Gen. It didn't seem appropriate to offer it to Lyda. However, since the woman's regard remained intently upon her, Celeste offered her a nod. "Uh, friend of the bride or groom's?"

  Gen smiled. "Sort of neither. Noah and Ben know one another." She gestured to the bartender, telling Celeste who Noah was. "Well, Noah knows all of the knights, but especially Ben. Oops, sorry. I meant Matt and his team."

  "It's all right." Rachel gave Celeste a teasing squeeze. "This is the reporter who first called them the Knights of the Board Room."

  "As if they needed an additional ego inflation," Lyda observed with dry amusement, but no rancor. "Though I expect you might have meant it in mockery?"

  "Initially. Then I got to know them, and I realized..."

  "They live up to the hype." Gen chuckled, gave Lyda a light nudge with her elbow. "Don't pay any attention to her, Celeste. Typical Master versus Mistress rivalry."

  "So Noah is..." Celeste turned to look toward the bar where the beautiful young man was putting together a drink for Lucas and Peter. Her brow furrowed. She might have stepped in it, no real way to classify what he was to Gen.

  "Husband, boyfriend, Dom, sub? It's confusing, isn't it?" Gen's warmth made Celeste feel more at ease. Lyda, while far less approachable, didn't seem unfriendly. She was just listening while stroking Gen's hair, her upper arm, and taking occasional sips of her wine.

  "I'm theirs," Gen said simply. "And we both belong to her," she added, nodding to Lyda and coloring a little at her Mistress's lifted brow. "It's complicated."

  Celeste thought about how she could introduce herself here. Could she really do it, say she belonged to Leland, that she was Leland's sub? That he was her Master? It was easier to say it to him in the heat of their passion, when it was just the two of them. "Um...I'm..." She reached up to toy with the necklace before she thought of stopping herself. "I came with Leland."

  "Really?" Lyda's expression became less imperious and far more approachable. Seeing that she was fond of Leland also helped Celeste relax further. Lyda's gaze shifted to Rachel. "A miracle. The dry spell has broken. Think I'll go talk to him about that and get my wine topped off."

  With a nod at Gen, she drifted in that direction. Rachel squeezed Celeste's arm. "I'm going to leave you and Gen to talk and check on the other guests. I'm on hostess duty."

  Celeste wasn't sure how to take either Lyda's comment or being left in a one-on-one with a stranger, but she'd handled plenty of difficult interviews, hadn't she? The key was knowing what persona to assume, how to act. Except she didn't want anything about tonight to be about acting.

  "You seem familiar to me."

  She tuned back in to Gen, who was studying her face. "What do you mean?"

  "I don't know. But just now, when you were looking a little uncertain about being left on your own, I caught something in your expression." Gen pursed her lips. "Where did you grow up in Baton Rouge?"

  Celeste didn't make a habit of saying where, but apparently her hesitation gave Gen the clue she needed. She reached out, closed her hand on Celeste's arm. "The Haven Trailer Park?" she asked, face brightening further.

  "Yes."

  Gen's eyes lit up. "Celly. You're Celly, aren't you? Do you remember me? You were pretty young. Younger than me by a couple years."

  Celeste studied her face more closely, and then a thought bloomed, her heart speeding up as she caught the anticipation and excitement from Gen. "You lived on the back side of the park. Your mom was gone a lot of nights."

  "Like yours." A pleased look crossed Gen's face. "Oh my God. Small world. You remember when we tried to figure out how to make that boxed pizza mix?"

  "And the sauce exploded? We were so worried your mom would get home before we got it all cleaned up."

  They both laughed, but then Celeste sobered, staring hard at Gen. She could remember the moon shape of Gen's adolescent face, a little bit of baby fat on it, though she'd been all stick arms and legs. Gen hadn't lived in the park long, barely a few months, but despite that, she'd probably been the best friend Celeste had until she'd reached her twenties and met Valerie. Celeste realized she'd bonded with Gen the way she'd bonded with Marcie. Instinctively and instantly, though she and Gen had likely been helped along by their shared circumstances. Regardless, Celeste was impressed by Rachel's intuition.

  When Gen slid her arms around Celeste and hugged her with great affection, Celeste found herself hugging Gen with equal warmth. Gen didn't let her go when she slid back, gazing at her face. "Isn't this amazing? I can't tell you how often I've thought of you over the years. That was about the only time my mother ever left Florida when I was growing up. It was such a short time, I probably would have forgotten we'd ever left the state, except I always remembered you. When I got old enough, I thought about driving back to see you, but then I thought, 'God, she's got to be hell and gone from there.' Or rather, 'I hope she's hell and gone from there.'"

  "I'm still in Baton Rouge, but I'm also hell and gone from there. If that makes sense."

  "It sure does. Sometimes the only journey you make is in your own head, but it can be a tougher trip than jumping on a plane and going halfway across the world."

  Gen glanced across the room at Lyda and Noah. Noah was topping off her wine glass. As he did, his Mistress touched his face, a light smile playing around her moist lips. She said something to him, her gaze flicking over him with a direct intensity Celeste recognized, enough that she couldn't immediately tear her gaze away. Noah's dark eyes sparked at the direct command. Straightening, he loosened his tie, removed it and then skinned out of his dress shirt and the tank beneath, revealing a lot of smooth, tan skin and lean muscle.

  "I figured she was going to have him do that sooner than later. Thank God." Gen grinned. "The surprise is she waited that long."

  Noah put the clothing beneath the bar and braced both hands on it as his Mistress leaned over and kissed
his lips, teasing his throat with a flick of her long nails. He closed his hand around her wrist and kissed her hand. When she moved away to engage Matt and Savannah in conversation, Noah didn't bother to keep his eyes off every latex slick curve.

  Gen sobered then, her attention coming back to Celeste. "My mom wasn't around a lot, and she wasn't the best mom ever, but I do remember she would have been mom of the year next to yours. I prayed for you, Celeste, when I understood just how bad it could have ended up for you."

  She wasn't usually the sentimental sort, but between what had happened to Jai, letting Leland meet her family and everything that had happened these past couple weeks to crack open a lot of long suppressed feelings, Celeste couldn't quell the ache that captured her throat. It was a simple, lovely thing, knowing a friend had prayed for her well-being.

  Realizing she might be drawing them down a path far darker than either wanted to go, Gen squeezed her hands. "Those prayers must have done some good. Look at you. You're beautiful, and you look happy. And that..." Glancing toward Leland, she executed a dramatic eye roll that reminded Celeste of the child Gen had been and left them both smiling, dispelling the shadows. "I just met him a little while ago, but I can tell that is a very fine Master there."

  "Oh, really?" Lyda had returned. She was no longer carrying the wine glass, so both arms were free. She looped them around Gen's waist and placed a kiss on her throat as her hands slid up, cupped Gen's breasts. Gen winked at Celeste, despite having to catch her lip in her teeth as Lyda's touch roved down, slipped between her legs, began to massage her just beneath the folds of the short black skirt. Instead of a black dress, Gen had worn that and a black fitted shirt, transparent enough to show a black lacy bra beneath the line of pearl buttons. Lyda's other hand deftly flicked them open so she could trail her scarlet nails down Gen's cleavage and play with the front clasp of the undergarment.

  Celeste blinked at the blatant exhibitionism, the abrupt and decisive way Lyda had taken control of things, turning this moment into an intimate one between her and her submissive. Celeste couldn't move, yet she was sure Lyda would have sent her scampering if she hadn't wanted an audience. But it wasn't as if the Domme had sought one, either. The humming energy Celeste had felt since she'd stepped off the lift was fueled by her intuitive knowledge--and by the anticipation of the other submissives here--that the Doms could do as they wished, when they wished. Lyda had just taken that truth from an undercurrent to a full wave that swamped Celeste. She could feel the increased heat in the room. Or maybe that was just in and around herself.

  It only took seconds before Gen lost the ability to respond to anyone but her Mistress, and only in panting breaths. Her head was back on Lyda's shoulder as her Mistress stroked her pussy. Gen wasn't wearing any underwear, obvious from the glimpses of flesh Lyda offered as she worked her hand under Gen's skirt. Her scarlet-tipped fingers slid inside and Gen went onto her toes, straining as Lyda fucked her slowly, her knuckles coming out glistening.

  Lyda's keen gray gaze rose. "Do you like to watch, Celeste?"

  She must, because she couldn't look away. Her own lips were parted, her body swept with sensations that made her sway on her heels. Gen twitched, a cry slipping out of her lips as Lyda did something with her fingers. Lyda shifted her grip to Gen's throat. With one hand there and the other between Gen's legs, it reminded Celeste suddenly of a cello, the way Lyda held her, played her sub's body, her own latex clad legs spread out and braced to balance Gen against her.

  "She was already hot and slippery on her way here," Lyda said conversationally, keeping her eyes on Celeste. Gen's heels lifted out of her sexy black pumps. "Mistress..." she gasped.

  "Mm-hmm. You're going to come in front of your friend, Gen. Right...now."

  Celeste's fingers closed in nervous reaction as Gen obeyed, her body bucking against Lyda's hold. The woman was strong, moving with her sub and yet holding her upright. When Gen's legs buckled, Celeste was ready to move forward, but as smooth as a rippling wind, Noah was there, dropping to one knee and closing his hands on Gen's thighs, helping to hold her upright. Since he wore nothing but the black dress slacks that rode low on his hips, Celeste saw the tattoo between his shoulder blades. It was a blood-colored heart with a Celtic triquetra overlay done in black. Below it was the infinity sign, the sideways figure eight, etched artistically inside a rendering of handcuffs. Below that was script. Yours, conditionally. A jagged scar bifurcated the two intriguing words.

  He offered Celeste a cordial glance before he bent and placed his lips on Gen's thigh. When he licked the trail of release off that pale column, Celeste glimpsed a tongue stud.

  "That's my sweet rabbit." Lyda nuzzled Gen's throat, her cheek. She shifted her hand from between her sub's legs to offer her fingers to Noah. He licked Gen's release off of them, then produced a handkerchief from his slacks pocket to dry his Mistress's fingers. When he released her, Lyda ran a fingertip along the side of his face. "I promised Marcie a whip demonstration at the reception, Noah."

  "That probably disturbed some of the guests," he commented, a twinkle in his eyes. "Sorry I missed it."

  She tugged his hair. "At the reception, I promised Marcie a whip demonstration. Young fool. Grammar nazi. You'll oblige when they get here?"

  "You never have to ask, Mistress." He rose then, putting his arms around Gen to support her on that side. Gen looked a little dazed and, when he captured her mouth in a heated kiss, she uttered a noise of pleasure, making him hold her tighter. Watching the three of them together was too much. Celeste needed Leland, now, no matter what the rules were about mingling until the damn Doms were ready.

  Fortunately, the overhead lights began to dim, leaving spotlights on the main pieces of equipment and creating plenty of shadows. The music, a haunting, seductive playlist, drifted to silence. Somebody had uncapped their bubbles, because a small cadre of them floated by.

  As conversation started to fade, Noah lifted his head and met Celeste's gaze, a light smile playing on his lips. "I think someone is looking for you," he whispered. Then he bent, lifted Gen in his arms and followed his Mistress toward the equipment.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rachel had said the Doms would make their move when they were ready to get down to business, and that seemed to be the case. Celeste noticed other Doms and subs drifting in the same direction as Noah, Gen and Lyda. Those who preferred voyeurism or a different kind of play melted toward the places where chairs and beds waited.

  She wanted to watch as well, but she didn't want to do it alone. She knew Leland was still at the bar. She felt his presence like the sun at the center of the galaxy. When she turned to see him leaning there, his eyes were fixed on her in a way she was beginning to understand and answer how they both wanted. As she moved across the room, the sensual atmosphere kept a firm grip on her, so that she moved in the sexy dress the way its designers had intended, her hips swaying, her posture straight. Her high heels gave her a pendulum walk. The gleam of the sheer stockings enhanced her legs. She was keenly aware of how every curve of her body was on display for him.

  He didn't move, just devoured her with his eyes, more so with every step she made toward him. His lips stayed firm and unsmiling, his gaze intent. When she reached him, she didn't think. She acted on pure desire and intuition. She sank to her knees at his feet.

  His gaze turned to flame. She kept her head up, her eyes meeting his, wanting to see what he wanted, needed.

  He set aside his drink. For a time he just studied her, intensifying her arousal. Her heart was a deep drum thud inside her body, echoing throughout every cavity. When at last he reached out and touched her lips, she parted them with an erotic sigh. Ecstasy jolted through her from that simple touch. Watching her, stroking her mouth, he fished ice out of his glass to trace over that same path, then lower, nestling the ice in her cleavage. He left it there, leaving it to melt and work its way down her body under the dress as he ran another piece over the curve of one breast, up her throat. She tipped ba
ck her head at the unspoken demand and he put the ice in her mouth, watched her suck on it, melt it on her tongue. The ice melting in her cleavage was fire and cold, making her want to squirm, but she didn't. When it melted enough to drop down into her lap under her skirt, it stayed there a few excruciating seconds before it slid down between her thighs, tumbling against the crotch of her panties, then dropping to the floor between her folded calves.

  "Give me your hand."

  He lifted her to her feet, turning her to face the room. As he did, he leaned her back against him. She rotated her ass against his erection, steel against the fly of his black jeans.

  "Nice. Keep doing that." He slid his hands up and down her arms, played with her fingers, tangling them with his, lifting them over her head, holding her arms there as her body moved in a sensuous dance against his. She rocked down on her heels, slid back up, dragging her buttocks over his thighs, his cock, worked herself against it. She didn't do impromptu lap or pole dances. But when every cell, every drop of her blood, was infused with erotic promise, promises she was making to her Master, she couldn't stop her body from communicating those promises.

  He brought her to a halt, his hands tight on her shoulders. That, as well as the increased size of his erection, told her she'd done what she'd intended. But he'd made his lesson clear earlier, and she wasn't being pushy. Just offering herself to him however he wanted. He was as cognizant of the difference as she was affected and shaken by it now.

  A few minutes later, she realized there was another reason the K&A men had decided to let play commence in earnest. A whir of gears heralded the lift returning, and Ben and Marcie stepped out of it, Ben opening the door for his new bride.

  With session protocol now in place, there was no dramatic entrance or fuss to their arrival, obviously their preference. Celeste suspected Ben had wanted his wife to step into the dreamlike black-and-white world, saturated with the sensual play they both knew and embraced. Now everything was about Doms and subs, surrender and mastery, not about the two of them holding the spotlight. Each play in process was only about the players themselves, and the audience was like the shadows, part of the ambiance.