by Joey W. Hill
"Yes Mistress. My apologies."
"Oh, I..." At Lyda's look, Gen let that trail off. She took her lead from the other woman. "That's true. And you missed a spot on my stomach with the sunscreen."
The red area was the size of a penny. The evidence of how thorough he'd been everywhere else had made the spot endlessly fascinating to her.
Lyda's reaction surprised her. Reaching over, she lifted Gen's shirt. Gen shivered as that fingertip slid over the abraded area. No nail this time, just a light caress. Dropping the shirt back in place, Lyda leveled a steely gaze on Noah.
"You'll get a severe punishment from me later, Noah. I made it clear that you were to protect every inch of Gen while she was in your care."
"Yes ma'am." Noah looked genuinely chagrined. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Gen hastened to tell him. "It doesn't hurt at all."
His look broke her out of any role-playing, because for Noah, it clearly wasn't a game at all. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.
Lyda touched her arm, drawing her gaze with the caress. The woman's direct look was reassurance and admonition both. Don't pussy out of this. Don't doubt yourself.
The night at her house, Lyda had made it clear Noah needed heavy handed. Even on her best day, Gen couldn't give him that. So she really couldn't go too far. It was okay. Lyda had said she'd keep Noah safe, and Gen wanted to try being a Domme. She firmed her chin. "Can we... Let's go to the cubicle."
Lyda rose. With Noah following behind, she led Gen to the far side of the large public play area on the main floor. The cubicle area was called "The Maze". It was designed so people could walk through and see what was going on in each space, but only four or five could stand in the opening of any given cubicle. A red line was drawn at that threshold to keep them outside the space itself.
The only place for large gatherings of viewers was in the distant upper mezzanine, lacing the privacy Lyda had mentioned with the thrill of exhibitionism. Some of the cubicles only had a chair and a scattering of restraint and flogger options on the walls. Others had equipment in them, pillories, a St. Andrew's Cross, and things Gen couldn't identify but which made her intensely curious as to their purposes.
Lyda took them to a cubicle on the edge of the maze, partially hidden from above by the mezzanine overhang. A rectangular frame with a thick, padded top piece was anchored to the floor. The top piece was a few inches above Noah's head. It also had rings embedded in it. On the wall was a selection of cuffs that could be attached to them. On the floor, about two feet in front of the frame, she saw a pair of steel boots, also bolted to the floor.
"The boots can be adjusted to lock onto his calves, so he can't move his feet," Lyda explained. "You put his hands in the cuffs attached to the top of the frame. Because of the position of the boots to the frame, his forward weight rests on his palms. It helps him brace himself while you're punishing him. Or fucking him."
Fucking him? Gen followed Lyda's attention to an array of packaged strap-ons, in various sizes. "Oh. I don't know if I could..."
"You've never thought of fucking a man the way he fucks you? Feeling the power that comes from thrusting into him, taking his surrender?"
She'd just wanted a man who treated her decently. Who loved her. She hadn't given anything else a lot of thought, not until recently. Fantasizing about things like strap-ons fed her newly discovered prurient imaginings. What was even better, she was being encouraged to pursue the prurient imaginings. Gen didn't look up beyond the cubicle walls, though. She didn't want to know who might be watching on the mezzanine, didn't want to lose her courage.
"Does this work?"
At Gen's nod, Lyda touched her hand. "He's yours to command. What would you like to do first? You can tell him to kneel until you decide. He waits on your pleasure."
Noah was standing so close to Gen's back that his breath stirred her neck hairs. He'd never stand this close to Lyda without her permission. But he knew she and Lyda were different. She wasn't trying to be Lyda. She was trying to be who Gen would be in a Dominant role. That felt right to her, as did drawing reassurance from his proximity. "Noah, go to the corner and kneel until I call you. Um...take off all your clothes first."
Lyda gave her an approving nod. His fingers brushed Gen's hip, maybe because of the small space, or maybe he just took advantage of that. She didn't mind that, either. With a sinuous twist of his upper body, he pulled the T-shirt off his head, then shucked off jeans, underwear, shoes. He put it all in a neat pile under one of the two chairs and then knelt, balancing his ass on his heels, placing his hands on his knees, his eyes directed to the floor. His thighs were spread, giving her full access to a stiffening cock. From direct experience she knew the testicle sac hanging beneath was substantial and pleasing in the grip of her hand.
With an amused, conspiratorial look, Lyda drew Gen to the implements on the wall, picked up a flogger. "This is a good weight for a novice. If you hit hard with it, it will sting, but it can't do any damage, not if you're aiming at back, ass and legs. Even if you slap his testicles some, he'll jump in a pretty delightful manner, but you're still not endangering him in any way."
His genitals? "Should I have him put the cuffs on first?"
"I don't know. Should you?" Lyda gave her a teasing look, not unkind. "It's up to you, but I often like to do the cuffing. There's something about a strong man letting himself be bound that gets all the juices flowing. Literally." Her voice dropped lower, though Gen assumed Noah could still hear them, given the small area. "He'll probably behave himself tonight, but he can get feisty. He's not a brat, but it's his subtle way of asking for the noose to be tightened. Watch his cues."
Lyda nodded toward him. "He'll also pull shit if he thinks that's what you want and need. He anticipates and he's a nurturer. Sometimes he messes up that way, but he's digging deep for what you want and need from him. Like I said, he'd be a good Dom if he ran that way. But he doesn't. Watch his face, body, everything, and follow your own instincts, what you desire. I won't let you hurt him or yourself. All right?"
"Is that what you look for from a sub?" Gen asked impulsively. "Or is that what drew you to him?"
"He was given to me to protect," Lyda said.
Noah's head came up at that. Rather than his usual easy expression, or slumberous sexual promise, Gen saw a flash of something else. Offense. Anger. Here then gone, but his back had stiffened.
"You want to argue about it, Noah?" Lyda's tone went sharp.
Though Gen was still learning a lot about this world, whenever the two of them hit this area, it was clear that things moved quickly out of sensual play into a far darker realm. It caused a tense ball in her own stomach, a swirl of feelings like a fight-or-flight instinct, except it wasn't her in danger. It was the special, unexpectedly fragile connection between Mistress and sub.
Gen expected Noah to respond with a "No Mistress," in that wooden voice he used whenever Lyda touched a nerve of that enigma Gen hadn't yet deciphered. Instead he turned his gaze back to the floor and said nothing. That ball in her stomach grew spikes, because she knew Lyda wouldn't let it pass. And she didn't.
Moving across the floor, Lyda stood where her knees practically pressed against the crown of his head. "You will answer me, Noah."
He tilted his head to the right, his jaw tight. And stayed silent.
"You don't like hearing I'm your warden?" Lyda demanded. "Your babysitter?"
His gaze snapped back up to her at that. Was Lyda deliberately baiting him? Gen bit her lip. She was about to stick her nose into something she likely didn't understand. But she remembered Noah leaning over her on the beach, the tilt of his head toward the sun, that half-smile.
"He thinks that's all you consider yourself."
Now two sets of eyes came to her. Noah's showing dismay, as if he'd have preferred her not to say it, and Lyda looking like she'd stated the obvious, making Gen flush. The silver eyes had frosted at the interruption.
"It's always intriguing, how subs tend to p
rotect one another, even when they both crave their Mistress's attention," Lyda said in a deceptively casual tone. She turned her gaze back to Noah. "She can already give voice to the preferences you can't, Noah. Your own personal Cyrano de Bergerac. With a much nicer nose, though big enough to interfere when she can't help herself."
Lyda didn't say it in a mean way. There wasn't even any mockery in her tone, but the pain Gen saw grow more stark in Noah's face, something he couldn't seem to voice, awoke something inside her, something hard and ugly. She should retreat, leave the cubicle. This kind of behavior was likely a deal breaker for her. But she couldn't make herself move. Any more than she could stop the words that sprang to her lips.
"Have you ever told him how you feel about him?"
Lyda's gaze flickered back over to her. Gen could tell she was about to tell her to back off, and she couldn't handle that. She had to get this out, because all of a sudden it was filling up her diaphragm like an explosive device.
"It seems so little to ask, but it's everything," Gen said. "Seeing it in someone's eyes, that you matter...more. It helps everything else make sense, every other problem seem solvable." Her eyes locked with Lyda's. "You said being a Dom is about really knowing what the other person wants and needs, but what does it mean when you hold back on that, not for them, but to protect yourself? How is that different from being a cruel bastard who can't put down the cable remote and make you feel for one goddamn second like you're more special than a fucking golf match?"
Lyda shifted forward. Noah went to a half kneel, as if he might get up, but Gen stepped back, holding up a hand. "It leaves you hating yourself, you know," she told Lyda. "If he'd just done that, given me those two precious seconds, I'd have felt like the queen of Egypt. Such a little thing. Maybe that's why he didn't give me that. Because if that's all it takes, then I didn't expect a lot for myself. I was giving him permission to treat me like I was nothing." Her attention shifted to Noah, came back to Lyda. "But I don't have it in me to demand. I never thought I'd have to demand to be treated special by someone who loved me. I always thought he'd want to do that."
She swallowed. "Can you do something like that for Noah right now? Nothing elaborate. Just one gesture, so I can believe this isn't just another version of the same place I keep finding myself whenever I get pulled into a relationship?"
Lyda pressed a hand into Noah's shoulder, a nonverbal command to stay where he was as she stepped away from him. Gen backed up into the cubicle wall, but Lyda kept coming. She cupped Gen's face, drew closer until Gen's nose brushed her jaw, her forehead against Lyda's prominent cheekbone, all those sculpted angles and fragrant skin. As Lyda's fingers slipped around to the back of her neck, holding her, Gen's throat was burning with a dry-eyed pain, the worst kind, like a desert where life had been burned from it.
"Ssshh," Lyda said against her ear. "It's all right, rabbit. It's all right. Okay."
Lyda had said she wasn't a nurturer, and she wasn't, but maybe that was what made a comforting touch from her so potent. There was a strength to the woman, like a tree. Gen knew she should push away, but it felt so good to be held against her. When Lyda at last drew back, her gaze was thoughtful. "All right, Gen."
She pivoted, shifting so Gen could see Noah as well. He was still on the one knee, quivering with the effort of self-restraint. His gaze was on Gen, showing concern for her, yet still holding onto that wary pain he and Lyda had stirred up between them. Then Lyda snapped his attention back to her with one sharp question.
"Noah, would you go into my home and piss on my expensive rugs?"
He looked startled. "No Mistress."
"Set fire to items that have great sentimental value? And yes"--she shot a glance at Gen--"despite reports to the contrary about what a hardass I am, I do have those."
"No Mistress." His brow creased. "Absolutely no."
"Would you let anyone else do it?"
He shook his head. Stepping forward and catching his chin, Lyda jerked up his head, roughly enough Gen winced. "Then why do you consider yourself different from my other possessions?"
She bent down, stared into his eyes. "You are a gift. One of the finest submissives I've had the pleasure to own. Yet until I break into that flawed part of you and tear the guts out of it, I won't give you an inch, Noah. You'll get no tender moments from me. Not as long as I know you'd let someone treat my prized possession like shit. My most prized possession."
As she spoke, the agony in his eyes increased, but Gen saw the moment those last four words registered. Pain transformed into shock, then confusion, as if he wasn't entirely sure how to process such a statement. Lyda's delivery had been a backhanded compliment, but Gen realized there'd been a power to it that a simple, sentimental offering would have lacked. This fit the dynamic that existed between the two of them. And maybe not only the two of them. Lyda straightened, eyed her.
"Your desire to protect him makes me think you should take the punishment he's begging for, Gen."
"No." Noah spoke up, adamant.
Lyda ignored him, attention staying on Gen. She sensed a message being passed to her, something important. "What if I let you sacrifice yourself for him, protect him, then let you fuck him, while I fuck you? You'll get a taste of being both top and bottom, and maybe you'll figure out where on the scale you really want to be." A faint smile touched her lips. "Your place, as you said."
When Lyda shifted to the side, Gen saw Noah watching them both. Conflict was written on his face, his fingers curled on his knees. A moment ago, Lyda had bid him stay where he was. She'd recognized correctly that Gen could only accept comfort for this situation from Lyda herself. A Mistress. Gen touched on the idea tentatively, thinking about what Lyda had said about subs wanting to protect one another...yet both craving punishment from their Mistress.
The Ferris wheel lever had been pushed again, taking them up to that top, teetering point, where everything of the world fell away but the three of them. And though Gen was conflicted over the last few moments, she realized Lyda and Noah had brought her back on the ride with them. Proving it, she opened her mouth and said the words a dark and swirling part of her told her to say.
"Yes," she said. "I want to take his punishment. Then...do what you said. Try that."
Lyda cocked her head. "All right. We'll take it a step at a time. Noah, look at me. She's fine now."
Lyda ran her thumb over his bottom lip, a tender act of truce. "Get your ass up. Gen's going to chain you up exactly the way she wants, and you're going to let her do it."
Chapter Nine
Lyda extended a hand, inviting Gen to proceed. Emotional outbursts must be part and parcel of D/s sessions, since Lyda seemed to have taken Gen's in stride. Being unbalanced in a good way seemed to be contagious. Even Noah looked like he felt better.
He'd moved to the frame. Gen paused at Lyda's side, joining her in sheer female appreciation. Noah, naked, his arms bent at a ninety degree angle above his head and palms braced against the padded horizontal bar. He'd threaded his wrists into the open hold of the loose cuffs already dangling from the top padded bar. As her gaze slid down over his tattooed back, she wanted to touch, to taste. He adjusted his feet inside the boots, ass shifting in delightful counterpoint, lean muscles of his thighs flexing.
She hesitated, looked toward Lyda. Lyda brushed a knuckle over Gen's face, increasing her confidence. "Have fun with it," the Mistress murmured. "Let your mind loose to play. It's all wonderland now."
Gen could fall down the rabbit hole. Lyda had called her a rabbit, after all. At first, she'd wondered if Lyda was calling her too timid. But maybe Lyda had been a fan of Watership Down, where the rabbits could be fierce fighters among their own kind, as well as fleet of foot and staying alert in a world that considered them food.
Fun. Okay, good with that. Gorgeous, naked male to play with. She could just hear Chloe-- You go, girl! Go tap that fine ass!
Suppressing a smile, she moved forward. But though things seemed smoothed out, she
hadn't forgotten the distress in Noah's expression. So first she pressed herself against his back, the rise of his firm buttocks, and dropped a kiss on his shoulder. "I'm okay," she murmured. "You okay?"
He gave her a nod, bending his head so she could see a dark eye through a fall of silky hair, the tug at his mouth. "Sorry," he mumbled.
She laid another kiss on his shoulder blade. Then she straddled his thigh, giving a sinuous little wriggle as she used the extra few inches of height it allowed to reach up and cinch the first cuff tight enough around his wrist he couldn't pull free. The look he gave her then had a different tone to it, one she answered with a playful lift of her brows, a shift of mood and energy.
Lyda was right. As she buckled that first cuff around his wrist, she experienced a distinct tingle in her loins.
"Feel his cock, Gen."
No need to tell her twice. Sliding an arm around Noah, she closed her fingers over him. He was already hard. That tingle between her legs intensified and spread.
"Now do the other wrist and grip it again."
She did it, watching his fingers twitch, a ripple go through his arm muscles. When she took hold of him once more, he was noticeably thicker and harder. She stroked him, leaning against his side. His eyes were closed, internalizing what she was doing to him.
"The more you restrain him, the more aroused he gets," Lyda said. Her voice had that tone that caressed Gen's nerve endings. "Because he knows he can't stop anything you want to do to him. He has to let go of all control. Adjust the boots so he can't pull his feet out of them."
Her own breath was a little fluttery, her reaction to the proof of what Lyda was describing. With Lyda's guidance, she figured out how to adjust the steel framework so the band around the ankles and just below the knee were cinched enough he still had circulation, but he couldn't remove his feet from the boots. Lyda tested the cuffs as well, running a finger beneath them to verify they weren't too tight.
Gen had knelt next to the wall to work on the boots. Putting her hand on his thigh, she looked up the length of his body, at a very prominent, pleasing erection. He was staring at what she was doing, his brown eyes filled with an enticing fire.
