Divine Solace

by Joey W. Hill

  Gen plunged her tongue inside Lyda's cunt, finding it slick and hot. The musk of it was different from a man, the strength of the smooth thighs on either side of her head tempered with the delicate scent of that floral powder. She moaned as her own empty pussy contracted, so sensitized, so close to climax, it made her work all the harder now for the reward she'd been promised. That they'd both been promised.

  Noah was behind them, listening to her going down on his Mistress while he was blindfolded. Were his fingers itching to wrap around his engorged cock, jerk himself off to the sound of Lyda's heavy breathing, the moans that slipped from her lips, the aroused sounds humming in Gen's throat as she licked, thrust into and suckled Lyda's cunt?

  Lyda's grip became rigid on Gen's head. As she ground herself against her face, she released with guttural cries, a hard pumping of her hips. Gen lapped up the small surges of cream that bathed her pussy, suckled her clean all while savoring the strong woman's shudders as she came down, as she twitched and quivered. Reading her body as she might read her own, Gen applied her tongue with steady pressure, slowing the swirls and teasing licks to accommodate Lyda's aftershocks, her sensitized skin. She could smell Lyda on her lips, on her face. In her current state of extreme arousal, she inhaled it like an elixir.

  "Now your punishment. Turn around."

  Once again, Lyda guided her like a doll. She pushed Gen down until her forehead was on the floor but she kept Gen's hips up. She was so aroused, the position was more arousing than threatening. All Gen could think of was how her exposed pussy must look, wet and ready to be fucked, tissues flushed, and how easy it would be to make that happen in a variety of ways. Noah's cock, his or Lyda's tongue, fingers, a vibrator. She had to come or she'd die.

  A sharp slapping noise made her jump. She was going to be punished, and though panic surged through her, none of it translated through her lust-fogged brain as an act of refusal. Lyda's hand slid between her legs, cupped her mound. The contact alone made Gen moan, and when Lyda pushed a thumb inside her, using the other fingers to hold her up, she was shuddering.

  Something hard, slim and far too flexible smacked her ass. It hurt, the sting sharp and jarring, but all the arousal swirling through her made the cry that broke from her lips sound near orgasmic.

  "Thought you had that in you, with the right conditions." Lyda did it again, harder, and Gen yelped. Panted. Gripped the carpet. After the sting came a flush of heat that was hard to classify. Especially when she felt Lyda's lips brush her raised buttock. Right before the third blow, the hardest of all. She jumped, her brain saying No, no. That hurt too much, no more... And yet she wanted to lift her hips to ask for more.

  Lyda removed her hand from her pussy, gave her throbbing buttock a light slap with her hand. "That's all you get for now, rabbit. Resume the scissor position and begin again."

  Noah took over then, which was good since her mind was floating somewhere, her body too spun up to be controlled by her brain. When he eased her back into place, she let out a harsh groan. That contact between their genitals ran electricity through her body, warning her how close she was to climax.

  The metronome was reset, this time to a faster pace. Lyda was trying to turn her into a lunatic. "You may work at the same time now," the woman said in her pure sex tone "but follow this rhythm. I want to see my pets come, writhing at my feet. Ask my permission right before."

  With the first friction of Noah's testicles against her labia, her pussy spasmed. "God...please...I need..."

  She strangled on the words, and Lyda said nothing. She was going to make her say it all. Choice or no choice, free will, wasn't even in Gen's mind now. She and Noah were Lyda's pets, owned by her entirely, able to do what she wanted to them. And that ownership was the most erotic thought Gen had ever experienced. All the independence she valued so highly, it wasn't as if this moment negated it--it was as if Lyda had called forth an alter ego from Gen, one who wanted this. Needed this as a reward for the other.

  The words blurted from her, lust-infused panic. "Please, Mistress...may I come? Please..." The last word was a near scream.

  "Come for me, Gen."

  Vaguely, she heard Noah ask for the same privilege and Lyda give consent. His legs jerked, the two of them bucking against each other. She spurted against his testicles, soaking them with her response she was sure. She could see it just as Lyda had described it, them writhing on the floor, humping like the naked, unrestrained animals they were, giving their owner pleasure as she watched.

  Their Mistress.

  When Gen at last landed from her orbit of the moon, she worried she might have scrubbed all the skin off Noah's testicles. His deep breaths, the way his legs were twitching against hers, told her he was feeling no pain, however. No more than herself. Aftershocks kept rippling through her, mixed with plain old shock. She became aware that Lyda was on her knees next to them. She was stroking Gen's hair, hip pressed against Gen's backside. From the rhythmic movements, Gen suspected she was stroking Noah as well. Perhaps his hip or side. Soothing them. Expressing her pleasure.

  "So you aren't really a nighttime TV watcher," Gen mumbled.

  "I prefer live entertainment options when I can get them. Sshh." Lyda stroked the side of her face, coiled her fingers in Gen's hair. She kept doing that for a while, until lassitude settled over Gen's limbs and she thought she could stay this way forever.

  But at length, the Mistress took off her blindfold. The intensity in Lyda's gaze, the tempting beauty of her mouth, made Gen quake helplessly. And Lyda saw it all. The power of her expression, what Gen was feeling, was too much, such that Gen's gaze lowered before she even realized she'd done it. But the gesture gave her some room to notice other things.

  Lyda had her other hand braced on Noah's hip. She hadn't yet removed his blindfold, so the press of his lips, the musculature of his body delineated by the aftermath of his climax, was all Gen's to enjoy without him seeing her stare, giving her a taste of the exclusive pleasure Lyda had enjoyed. His climax had spurted over his sectioned stomach muscles, up to his chest. Despite the depletion of energy that came with her climax, Gen wanted to slide her fingers through it, paint it over his nipples. Taste it, and him.

  "He's so beautiful, isn't he?" Lyda ran a hand down his side, over his buttock, back up to his shoulder. "My sweet boy. My gorgeous, lost soul. Wonderful man."

  Noah turned his face to the carpet as Lyda slipped the blindfold from him. His eyes stayed closed, his face relaxed, still lost in a haze. Gen understood the feeling. The only thing tugging her toward reality was the trickle of shock at the extraordinary things she'd done tonight. Her languid state kept worry at bay. For now.

  "Time for bed, for all of us." Lyda rose, offering Gen a hand. When she hauled her to her feet, she swayed. Lyda slid an arm around her waist, letting her lean.

  "I..."

  "Sssh. Let it all go for tonight. You did beautifully."

  Relief filled her. Yet following, allowing things to happen, wasn't what she did. She never trusted anyone else in that way, but Lyda simply took control and Gen let her. Lyda was right. She didn't have the brain power to interpret that, think about it now.

  As Lyda held her in one arm, she prodded Noah with her foot, a gentle tease. "On your feet, you worthless male animal."

  Noah cracked an eyelid, but agreeably complied, pushing himself up onto his hip and getting his feet underneath him. When Lyda reached down to him, Gen automatically did the same. Noah paused, as if he might wave off the help, but in the end, he clasped their hands, though he used his own strength to pull himself up, tightening his grip on their fingers as a sign of connection. Despite that, Lyda watched him with her sharp eyes to ensure he had his balance before releasing him.

  Gen thought she could have walked on her own as well, but having Lyda's body pressed against her side wasn't something she'd deny herself. She hadn't tied the robe, completely comfortable with exposing her breasts, the slope of her abdomen and the shaved point of her sex, her long,
toned legs. Gen had tasted those breasts, that sex. She wanted to taste her everywhere, wanted to taste Noah's flesh. Though it was a low-level hum beneath the emotional and physical exhaustion from the big events of the day, it was a tone that was steady and true. A promise that she'd want more than one night of this.

  Lyda took her down the hall and up a set of steep, narrow stairs smelling of old wood. Noah followed close behind them. Gen had the impression of more interesting artwork along the way. No photographs, except for a couple art pieces, not family photos. At the top of the stairs, they turned right, passing a guestroom, a bathroom, and then they were at the master bedroom.

  Lyda had a tester bed with thick pillars and a carved wooden overhang. It looked like an antique, but some unusual customization had been done beneath it. Something startling enough to break Gen out of her post-coital trance. She balked, uncertain. Lyda's grip tightened on her.

  "It's all right, Gen. Trust me."

  Tester beds sat high enough off the floor that there were usually steps to allow shorter people easier access to the mattress. Gen remembered Chloe talking about them once, suggesting they'd been designed by adults who missed childhood bunk beds.

  Nothing childish about what had been built beneath this one. A cage, as long and wide as the mattress, sturdy enough to also serve as the frame of the bed. The six-inch spaced bars looked like steel. A twin mattress inside the cage ran parallel with the long side of the bed. It was a freaking cage.

  "I don't want to do that."

  "It's not intended for you." Lyda said it calmly enough to soothe Gen's nerves. Until she realized the implication.

  When Lyda pointed to the enclosure, Noah knelt and rolled gracefully into it. He stretched out on his stomach, bending one leg up and shifting his hips in a way that had his ass flexing as he adjusted to his preferred sleeping position on the mattress. Given that he was entirely naked and seemed to want to sleep on top of the covers, he looked like a Playgirl centerfold. She wasn't sure Playgirl got into bondage, though. She was trying to stay appalled, but when his heavy-lidded brown eyes slid over her with lazy erotic pleasure, she remembered comparing him to a sleepy wolf.

  Letting go of Gen, Lyda leaned over to close the cage door. Gen noticed the latch had a padlock eye, but it didn't contain a padlock. Noah could get out on his own if needed, which made her feel somewhat better. Reaching through the bars, Lyda tousled Noah's long hair. His eyes were already closed again, and when he grunted at the attention, she snorted. "Typical post-orgasmic male. Useless."

  She said it fondly, rising to face Gen. Pressing her fingers to her own lips, Lyda laid the transposed kiss on Gen's forehead. "Bathroom's down the hall. I have a guest bedroom next to it, or you can come back to bed with me."

  Giving her a direct look, Lyda dropped the robe. As she stepped onto the short set of steps that led up to the bed, Gen noticed Noah's eyes opened again. He took his fill of his Mistress naked, and once she'd ascended to the bed, he slid a hand out between the bars to snag the robe. He reeled it in until he had it in a silken puddle by his pillow, close enough he could dream with her scent in his nose.

  "You get any drool or other disgusting male fluids on that, I will cut off your balls with my pruning shears."

  He let out a snuffled sound that could have been a chuckle.

  Lyda stretched out her lithe body to turn off the bed lamp. A nightlight, shaped like a porcelain orchid, glowed by the antique dresser. Then she turned on her side, facing away from Gen. The cover was off her bare shoulder, her hair loose along the pillow.

  Gen found herself several steps closer to the bed, but she wasn't sure of her intent. Her gaze went between the woman on the bed and the man beneath it. If Lyda extended her hand over edge of the mattress, Noah could reach through the bars and clasp her slim fingers, if she so desired. The appeal of that thought disturbed Gen. Then she felt Noah's fingers slide over her foot, take a loose grip on her ankle, stroke. Soothing.

  "Why a cage?" she asked softly.

  "Because it underscores that he's in my care," Lyda answered for him. "That he can trust my ownership, whether it's simply for a night or for a longer period. And because it fucking turns me on to see my sub locked up that way."

  Noah gave that half chuckle, an amused sound of agreement. Gen turned her gaze down to him. "What does it do for...you?"

  He tilted his head up, meeting her gaze with those distracting brown eyes. "Come inside and find out," he said simply.

  Instead she slid her foot from his grasp and retreated, mumbling something about the bathroom.

  Lyda had an appreciation for top-of-the-line fixtures. Gen had briefly glimpsed the master bath, and seen a shower with multiple sprayers and corner benches, the area large enough to double as a steam room. There was a smaller version of that in the guest bath. The walls and tile were white, but she'd highlighted the blank canvas with a spray of purple and yellow flowers over the commode. Along the side of the wide mirror, she had a trio of colorful, whimsical watercolors of mermaids.

  Gen studied the pictures. Lyda's reserved humor came in sporadic flashes, but like the touches of color in this room, that gave it more of an impact.

  Gen pulled a makeup wipe from the beauty products in a sample basket on the counter. Worrying about being seen without makeup seemed pointless after how vulnerable she'd made herself tonight. Lyda had come out of the bedroom to do her "reading" without makeup, dressed for bed, but of course with or without makeup, she was striking. The force of her personality overrode any embellishment.

  Gen cupped her hands over her face. She inhaled Lyda's damp pussy, the fragrance lingering in her nose, on her lips, her cheeks. She was reluctant to wash it away, but she did.

  Leaving the bathroom, she found the guest bedroom. The white spread had fine needlepoint depicting sprays of greenery. Well-tended house plants clustered in the corner, next to a rocker with a stuffed white bear in it. The bear was new enough to suggest it wasn't a cherished childhood memento, so she wondered how Lyda had acquired it and why she kept it, though it added a further touch of comfort to an already welcoming room. Lyda had said she could stay in here.

  Or she could get her clothes, find her keys, leave. They wouldn't stop her.

  Instead, she wandered down the hall, closer to the main bedroom, though she paused at Lyda's home office. A laptop on the desk, a printer and router, the usual things. There was also a TV in there, a shelf of books and a portable heater for winter, a necessity in a drafty older house to cut down on heating bills. Though it had looked as if Lyda had a main office out by the greenhouse, Gen knew running one's own business successfully was more than a nine-to-five endeavor, something she appreciated even more now that M had increased Gen's involvement in the running of Tea Leaves.

  She was back at the entrance to the master bedroom. The mistress bedroom. A weak joke, underscoring her anxiety. The nightlight showed Noah sprawled on his stomach, pillow bunched under the curl of his arms, Lyda's robe a neat swirl under his elbow.

  His breath seemed even. She couldn't tell if Lyda slept, but as Gen circled to the other side of the bed, she hesitated. She'd been invited earlier, but it felt wrong to simply slip in the bed with Lyda, now that her eyes were closed. She shouldn't be intimidated by her. She was just a woman, like Gen, or Chloe...

  No, she wasn't like them. She was like Marguerite, a different classification. Something inside Gen recognized it and responded accordingly. That would bear some thinking about. She really should go home.

  "Are you sleeping in that dress?"

  Lyda's eyes were half-slits, studying her. Sliding her hand toward Gen, she hooked the covers, flipped them back. "Take it all off, rabbit. Come to bed."

  Gen turned to the closet. She slipped the dress off, hesitating when she saw her thong panties hanging over the knob. Lyda must have been carrying them in her robe pocket.

  Even with a handy vibrator, Gen was usually a one-orgasm-a-week kind of girl. It seemed impossible that thinking of Lyda han
dling her underwear, marked by her arousal, could stir her up again. Lyda was sleepy, though. There wouldn't be anything more happening tonight. Take a breath.

  Tucking the thong inside the dress and hooking both on the closet knob, Gen turned back to the bed. She used the steps on that side to crawl onto the mattress, slide under the covers. She hadn't slept with anyone since her second husband. Well, except the night before Chloe's wedding, when Chloe and several of her early female guests had dog-piled onto Gen's bed, talking into the wee hours of the morning. Chloe had eventually fallen asleep there, arm wrapped around Gen as she slept, that fond affection that Chloe did so well. This was very different.

  Lyda slid closer, propping herself on her elbow and pushing Gen to her back so she could gaze down at her. Lyda cupped the side of her face, her fingers drifting along Gen's jaw, down her throat, her sternum.

  "Ass sore, rabbit?"

  "A little."

  "I could see the marks I left on it when you undressed. I liked that." Lyda folded back the covers so she could see all of Gen. She watched the Mistress gaze at her body, fingertips trailing Gen's rib cage below her breast, circling over her stomach, teasing her hip bones. She was being explored. Lyda stroked her knuckles over Gen's hip, her upper thigh. When she exerted pressure on it, Gen opened her legs without thought. The approving murmur made Gen tremble. Inside and out.

  Lyda didn't touch cunt or nipples, barely grazed Gen's breasts at all. She stroked her arms and upper thighs, inside her thighs, high enough to caress the tender pockets on either side of her pussy. Walking her short-nailed fingers over Gen's mound, Lyda played with her navel.

  Then Lyda lowered her head and put her mouth on all those same places.

  Gen's breath accelerated, her body moving restlessly. She bit back a moan, not wanting to disturb the hushed charge in the air. Was Noah awake and listening to the shift of the box springs above him, wishing he could be part of this, watch? She bet he was, as much as she wagered that was a vital component of Lyda's pleasure, denying him the view to goad his arousal, while stoking Gen's.

  "You thought about going into the cage, didn't you?" A seductive whisper.