Divine Solace

by Joey W. Hill

  "You'll answer me, Noah."

  "I only want to pleasure you both, Mistress. Please." The rough plea was a clear request to stay away from whatever gate Lyda was crashing. Lyda considered, pressing her lips together.

  "You get a pass for now. But we'll come back to it." Sliding her hand down the side of Gen's throat to her shoulder, Lyda hooked her bra strap beneath the dress's neckline. The pure sexual intent yanked Gen's attention away from the puzzle of that exchange. "Did you buy something nice to wear beneath this dress?"

  "Yes." On a normal date, it would be an outrageous question. In this environment, such questions seemed normal. Though Gen wasn't sure what she would do if Lyda told her to strip, right here, right now.

  "Turn around. Lean against me and stretch out. Noah is going to give you a foot massage."

  "Oh...well, he doesn't need to do that."

  "Don't deny him, or yourself, the pleasure."

  Noah removed his hand from its distracting task and rose to help. Gen couldn't resist them both. He lifted her legs, helped Lyda turn her so her upper body was settled back against Lyda and she felt Lyda's breasts, molded and held up by the corset, press into her shoulder blades. Lyda's thighs spread to accommodate Gen's hips.

  Her arm slid around Gen's waist, her jaw pressed against Gen's temple. Lyda feathered her fingers over Gen's cheek. It started out as gentle as before, but then the pressure on her jaw firmed, turning Gen's cheek toward Lyda's shoulder. This time when Lyda's lips touched Gen's neck pulse, she gave her the edge of her teeth.

  Arousal surged within Gen, but panic as well, caused by her lack of control over her own responses. "This feels strange to me."

  "This isn't being done for you, but for me, Gen." Lyda spoke against her flesh. "It pleases me to hold you like this, to explore your body while you're stretched out in front of me." She traced the neckline of Gen's dress and played in the valley between her breasts, causing ripples of sensation that ran across them and made Gen shift restlessly.

  "When it's not about you, but what I want, what I demand, it becomes easier. Does it feel good, pleasing me?"

  It did. But Gen wasn't sure what strings were attached to such a question, so she didn't know what to say.

  "Simple truth, Gen. No analysis." Lyda held her chin, her mouth so close to Gen's she couldn't think beyond the thought of how Lyda had kissed her. "Does pleasing me feel good?"

  "Yes."

  A brush of Lyda's mouth rewarded her, but since the woman was holding her head, it was controlled, Lyda sipping from Gen's mouth while Gen became parched with the desire to return the favor.

  In the meantime, Noah had been removing her shoes. He dropped to one knee, his strong hands caressing her arches. When he closed his palms over them and began to massage, it was instant Nirvana, a paradise mix of intimacy, comfort and sensual pleasure.

  "Oh...wow."

  "Exactly." Lyda said, her tone full of feline satisfaction. "Have you noticed Noah has a tongue stud?"

  She began an idle tracing of Gen's sternum, making wider circles, finding the curves of her breasts beneath the neckline of the dress. When Noah kneaded her arches, a thrum of reaction ran up Gen's inner thighs from the dual sensation.

  "I asked you a question, Gen."

  "Yes. Yes, I noticed it."

  "He's very skilled in its use. He said you didn't avail yourself of it very much this weekend. I like that you exercised restraint because you weren't sure of his relationship with me. I also think you held yourself back because things like this aren't casual for you. I particularly like that. Noah, come up here."

  He knelt at Gen's side, put his arm on the other side of her hip, corralling her between him and Lyda. His hip pressed against Gen, and her gaze strayed down to his cock, causing a mouthwatering stretch against the pants. "You want to touch him somewhere, Gen? Touch him there, one fingertip only."

  As tempting as his cock was, her attention had moved to the lacings on the sides of the pants. She could see his bare skin beneath them, all the way from waist to ankle. Thinking about the impressions that would be on his skin when he finally took off the pants, she caught a fingertip underneath the lacing on the nearer side, a tiny stroke of the visible inch of skin.

  "A nice choice. You notice the little things. Make her smile, Noah. She's getting too worried about things."

  Noah leaned forward, blew on Gen's lips, which did make her smile, but he wasn't done. As her lips parted, he pressed the advantage, bringing them together in a kiss, his tongue entering to tease hers. Then she jumped as a tickling vibration skated along her tongue, the inside of her lip.

  He drew back as she caught herself in a startled chuckle, a near giggle and squirm. His devilish look made her laugh outright, her body moving against Lyda's hold. Lyda held her in her lap, her palm flat on her abdomen right below her breasts, her other hand playing in her hair. It was intoxicating to have her vision taken up by them both.

  "Yes, it vibrates," Lyda said. "Which doesn't seem much different from what you can buy in a novelty shop, until you experience what he can do with it."

  The part-threat, part-tease transformed Gen's amusement into anticipation. As Noah shifted back to the end of the couch, Lyda held her body more securely. "You relaxed a little more. Progress." Lyda spoke against her ear. "Do I make you feel safe, rabbit?"

  Yes. And no. Again she recognized the echo of the feeling as something she often experienced in Marguerite's presence. With Lyda, the core of it included a craving to get even closer, physically, not just stand under the shade of that canopy. "I keep myself safe," Gen said.

  "I'm getting that. But there's a difference between being safe in a panic room and feeling safe in the sunshine. We'll talk about that another time, though. Right now, I'm going to make you lose your mind."

  "Ah..." Gen didn't have to come up with an answer for that. Noah was back to giving her a foot massage, but not with his hands. He'd started to tease her bare feet with his mouth, running that tongue stud up the arch. It wasn't vibrating, which was probably good, because she had very ticklish feet. Yet the feelings he was evoking weren't ticklish. The aroused strumming up her legs during his massage had been gentle waves. Now they sharpened into direct lines of sensation, shooting up her inner thighs, behind her knees. As he moved to her ankles, Gen let out an unsteady breath.

  "That dress is short enough I bet Noah can see your panties. You're nice and wet aren't you? He'll smell it as he gets closer."

  Gen had paid little attention to the surrounding people since Lyda had sat her down on the couch, but realizing where this was heading, she became aware of interested glances, and not just in the sitting area. Since she was in a position to look up, she saw what Noah had pointed out earlier. Both the second and third floor of The Zone allowed for mezzanine galleries to view what was happening below, even in a seemingly casual area like this. Noah and Lyda were striking enough to attract attention, even if they'd been doing this to a mannequin. She saw faces above, studying them.

  "They don't matter. All that matters is how you feel, and what I want."

  Lyda leaned forward, taking up more of Gen's vision. She also moved her fingertips beneath the vee of the dress to caress Gen's breast more intimately. "Spread your legs, Gen."

  Lyda said it in a low voice, but it was her first direct order to Gen, no mistaking it for what it was. By obeying, Gen would be doing what felt right at the moment, but how did that commit her future actions? If she let go of the anchor of her own will, she could be swept away on the tide of Lyda's. She caught Lyda's leg in one hand, white knuckled.

  "Ssshh...close your eyes. Just listen to my voice."

  Gen shut her eyes. Was she really doing this, in the middle of a public room, voices all around her? Though the room was buffered, it wasn't completely soundproof. With her eyes closed, she heard other things, as if they were conspiring with Lyda to gain her compliance. Cries of pain from one direction, underscored by a rhythmic noise like the slap of a flogger, a counterbea
t to the distant dance floor music. A shriek of ecstasy, as someone else reached climax.

  When Gen inhaled, she was inundated with perfumes and colognes, everything from jasmine to lavender to sandalwood to the overwhelming smell of sexual desire, which overlaid everything else. What had Noah said? Everything here was consensual, what people wanted. Craved. Needed. One of those aroused scents was hers.

  Noah had reached her knees, that clever mouth making wet patterns on her flesh, his teeth adding marks from short nips. When he curled his tongue around the crease of her knee, teasing the back, she shifted restlessly. She'd spread her legs a little at Lyda's command, but now Noah's strong hands gripped her thighs, spread her wider. Enough that one knee was bent and pushed against the back of the couch, the other positioned so her foot was flat on the floor. Lyda adjusted her so her back and hips accommodated the change. She wanted Gen to let go of the anchor, trusting Lyda to be the vessel.

  Noah's upper body was stretched over the couch, one hand braced against her bent leg to hold it in place, the other curved over the upper thigh of her other leg to hold it down. Uncertainty returned at the restraint, but Lyda used the nylon content of the dress Gen wore to stretch the neckline of the dress open and down, revealing and framing the satin bra.

  "Very pretty," she confirmed. "And thin, so I can see when your nipples are hard. You're already dressing for a Mistress's pleasure." She slid her hands inside the bra, her knuckles pushing back the cups to keep them out of the way. The open air touched Gen's taut nipples. Now anyone could see. But when Noah lifted his lashes to give them a lingering stare, she couldn't look beyond his expression or Lyda's reaction.

  "You have gorgeous breasts," Lyda said. Noah made a noise of fervent agreement. He dipped his head, returning to licking, kissing, nuzzling her inner thighs. Occasionally she felt a tiny thrum as he let the tongue stud vibrate, then he cut it back again, its stimulation unpredictable. His hands had slid up her thighs, pushed back the skirt, his thumbs so close to her pussy they pressed against the elastic of the panties.

  "Noah is going to go down on you." Lyda leaned forward further, her beautiful hair curtaining Gen's face. Reaching up, Gen threaded her fingers through it, pleased with the thick softness. Lyda studied Gen's fingers on her hair. The look on her face was pleasure, laced with a reserve that told Gen she'd considered ordering her to put her hands down. But Gen wasn't here as a sub or a Domme. Certain liberties would be allowed. At least right now.

  "Noah is going to eat your pussy, drive you to insanity," Lyda continued in that melted-sugar voice. "But he's not going to let you come. Not until you beg me to take you home with me tonight."

  That was blackmail. Extortion. Something nefarious. Before she could argue, though, Noah's tongue slid over the crotch of Gen's panties, teasing her pussy through the silk fabric.

  "He's a master at this. He compares it to martial arts positions, giving names to different strokes, positions, rhythms. Hummingbird, Flowing Water... He'll tell you all that nonsense sometime when his mouth isn't otherwise occupied."

  Noah had a finger occupied as well, because he'd caught the edge of the panties, eased them aside, so that metal stud was sliding up her bare labia. It made her thigh muscles strain. Lyda's thumbs and forefingers captured Gen's nipples. It started as a light hold, but then became an increasingly firmer pinch. As the discomfort increased, the coil low in her belly got tighter, and she found she didn't want Lyda to ease off, as if the pain was feeding into the pleasure, making it bittersweet. Gen arched into her touch.

  "That's it. Thrust those lovely tits up at me." Lyda tugged harder on her nipples, as if she was pulling Gen up by that hold. Gen gasped, her head pressing against the firm pillow of Lyda's breasts, Lyda's shoulder. Which also pushed her pussy against Noah's face, increasing the sensation there. Noah shifted his position. It was as if he was teasing her with light fingers, only this was his tongue against flesh, wet heat.

  She moaned. "That first sweet taste," he murmured. He slid his hands under her buttocks, digging into the satin of the panties as he pressed his thumbs on either side of the labia, a compression she felt in her clit. When he spoke again, she strained to hear him, even as everything he did made it more difficult to focus her senses.

  "This is called...bee on a flower. Following the stem, every petal, to the center, where your honey is sweetest..." The tongue stud pressed one single point, and sensation exploded in her core, bucking her up against him in an unexpected flow of motion he nevertheless anticipated, his sure hands holding her. The stud began making a light buzz, and that sensation skyrocketed. A desperate sound broke from her lips. Now she found just how strong Noah was, because his hands held her fast, didn't let her move more than an inch as he played with her.

  "Hold there. Ssshh. Just ride it." Lyda's hair brushed her face again, and Gen's wild gaze flicked up to her. Lyda looked as caught up in Gen's pleasure as she herself was, in a different way. Gen panted, attention latched onto Lyda's mouth, the moist lips, the gloss there.

  "Do you need a kiss, Gen?"

  Gen nodded and then her body twisted hard as Noah's tongue slid right up beneath the clit. He swirled a tight circle there, then pushed deep into her cunt. The rate of vibration had become more intense. She felt it everywhere, through all the delicate tissues and veins, those layers of flesh like the juicy inside of a ripe fruit when like this. That was probably what he called this maneuver...ripe fruit...

  "Ask me nicely." Lyda's intent face was over her, eyes demanding.

  "Please..." She couldn't call her Mistress. Could she? She wasn't sure. Fortunately the please was enough.

  Lyda bent, and Gen kept her eyes open, wanting to see this time. Lyda's lips pressed against hers, an exploratory caress, soft but not too soft. A woman's kiss wasn't as girly as Gen had expected. Maybe because Lyda didn't kiss the way Gen did, a yielding of her lips to the pressure of the lover's. Lyda held her mouth firm, so it was Gen's mouth that became more pliant, gave way, trembled, as Lyda's tongue slid along her lips, entered her mouth, and then her lips sealed over Gen's, making the kiss strong and sure, sweeping her away. Seeking an anchor, Gen tangled her fingers in Lyda's silky red locks. Lyda's hand locked over her wrist, holding her there.

  It was an amazing mix, Lyda's female beauty so close, her hair brushing Gen's cheeks and temples, her lips on her own, while Noah's five o'clock shadow rasped against Gen's inner thighs. Male and female, integrated. Noah wasn't the type of male Gen knew, the kind she treated with wariness. Even so, she didn't think Noah alone could have coaxed her into this position, for the simple reason that Gen's vulnerabilities had been past prey for male attentions, not female. Noah was under Lyda's command. Somewhat. Was that why it was easier for her to let go like this?

  Any intelligent thoughts were driven away as Noah shifted once more, flattening his upper body on the loveseat. His chin scraped her perineum as he flicked and worried her clit, making her hips gyrate like a carnival ride, her hand clamped on Lyda's thigh. Lyda curved her fingers into the spaces between, unlatching Gen from her leg to form a hard knot. She did it with the other hand as well. But as Noah continued his torturous magic, Lyda shifted her grip to Gen's wrists. She drew her arms back past Lyda's hips until her knuckles were pressed against the couch arm, as if Gen's hands were being restrained behind Lyda's back. Lyda's upper body pressed more firmly into her shoulder blades, arching Gen further.

  She was soaked, Noah likely getting a wealth of the honey he'd described on his tongue and lips as he drove her higher. How wet was Lyda? What would happen if Gen turned over, pressed Lyda back on the sofa, buried her face in Lyda's pussy the way Noah was buried in hers?

  "Ahhh..." Gen let out another cry as Noah did a new amazing thing between her legs. Lyda remained bent attentively over Gen's face. Her lips were moist from kissing Gen.

  She was so close...or not. Her body thrashed on the couch as Noah teased her. Her hips lifted again, pussy wet and begging. The arch of her body displayed her naked bre
asts, the stiff tips, for Lyda, Noah, anyone watching. It didn't matter. Seeing Lyda study them with proprietary detachment was a hungry thrill she couldn't explain.

  I'll keep you safe...

  Everything Noah was doing to her, Lyda saw as something she had the right to command, Gen's body her possession. Gen could see it in her intent look, feel it in Lyda's touch. Maybe it was just a feeling-of-the-moment, but it had an overwhelming effect on Gen's senses.

  The climax coiled like an unhappy, frantic snake, thwarted in its strike. She tried to follow Noah's mouth, to force the issue. He held her down, teasing her labia with dragging strokes of his tongue, creating patterns with the tongue stud, here, there. When he lifted her up enough to trace a firm line up her perineum, such that she felt the vibration of the tongue stud in her rim, a scream tore from her throat.

  "Please..."

  "Please, what, Gen? Beg me for what I want, or you won't come."

  "Please..." She tossed her head back and forth. Noah's fingers bit into her thighs, his hair brushing them as he nipped them then went back to her pussy, tonguing her deep once more, a thrusting penetration, a swirling lick inside. He made a slow excavation, sliding up toward her clit, under the hood, putting pressure there. Oh God, she was going to die from all the sensation. That tongue stud vibrated, lashed over her clit, making her crazy. Spots came into her vision, but he had the skill to hold everything else out of reach. Until Lyda got what she wanted.

  What Gen wanted.

  "Please...I want to come home with you. You and Noah. Please."

  "That's your pussy talking. You just want to come."

  Noah did something then that took her so close to orgasm tears threatened. Her throat worked, fingers clawing at the side of the couch. Christ, the woman was strong. Gen was straining against her grip on her wrists with all her might, not to get away, but just in reaction to what Noah was doing, and making no headway at all. Her agitated gaze rolled over Lyda's smooth biceps. They were firm, unyielding, like the woman herself. Gen wanted to put her mouth on them, on Lyda's neck, on the rise of those beautiful breasts above the corset. She was so beautiful. To feel like this all night, to be beyond thought, lost in whatever Lyda demanded, in Noah's touch...