Divine Solace

by Joey W. Hill

  A quick glance showed him partially erect. He found a condom in the coffee table, rolled it on. Gen moved onto hands and knees, wobbling like a newborn filly. The woman was honestly trying to kill them.

  "Put her on her elbows, Noah."

  The butterfly tingle in her clit increased to a flock of birds as he curved one large hand around the back of Gen's neck and pushed her down to her elbows, supporting her to avoid a face plant. Putting his pelvis against her bare ass, he fed his cock into her, pushing a little to accommodate his not fully rigid state. Lyda had an answer for that.

  "Start squeezing down on him, Gen. Neither of you is allowed to move otherwise, though. You're my performance art, a perfectly still statue of two people fucking, but all the movement inside, working out all those sensitive nerve endings."

  Gen obeyed. She closed her cunt muscles over Noah's length. Kept doing it rhythmically. Lyda had a devilish understanding of the way arousal worked between two attracted bodies. As Gen milked him inside but they were both forced to stay still outside, Noah's grip on her hips increased. He started getting hard again in no time. Which stretched her labia, put pressure on her clit, and started to take her up that slope to arousal again as well. Oh God, it felt so good to have him inside of her. She wanted to move. Desperately.

  Lyda had been eating throughout, making casual comments about the tastiness of the meal, things that needed to be done at the nursery, the damn meaning of the universe, for all Gen knew. Now she pushed her plate away. "Gen, come here and take this to the kitchen. Refill it."

  It was a good thing the woman wasn't in her mind, because having Noah pull out of her resulted in some creative curses. She toddled toward the table, her arousal coursing down her thigh. When she reached across Lyda to take the plate, their Mistress slid one finger up that track and placed it in her mouth, sucking in a way that had Gen almost dropping the plate.

  "You're evil," she said.

  Lyda's eyes glinted. "No talking."

  Gen shut her mouth, went to the kitchen. She refilled the plate as before, remembering the rule about ten o'clock placement and oblong rice shapes. She locked on the guidelines as if the fate of world peace depended on following a Mistress's orders. There was a pleasure to it, a frustration, a sense of security. Everything began and ended with her. Was that another part of it for Noah, for every person who had this kind of craving to submit?

  Whatever. She'd save it for her next philosophical discussion with Chloe. And good God, would she have some experiential knowledge to bring to that discussion.

  When she returned, Lyda had changed her robe for the one she'd worn the other night. She must have had Noah retrieve it, for he was now kneeling beside her. The transparent gray robe was on the chair next to her.

  "Put that on and take a seat there, so Noah's in between us. I want him to see enough flashes of tits and pussy when you move to keep him hard."

  Noah wet his lips at that, though Gen noticed Lyda had him staring down at the floor right now. She also had his hands occupied. They were motionless, double-wrapped around his cock, holding the stiffening member in a pointed up position.

  "Here, feed him this." Lyda handed Gen a spring roll once she complied with her commands. "Make him eat it from your fingers."

  Gen found the experience of feeding him even more absorbing this time. As Noah closed his lips around the roll, his gaze lifted to meet hers. Lyda watched them, her chin resting on her hand as Noah chewed. Gen waited until he swallowed and looked to her for another bite. Lyda kept passing food to her. Sometimes she made Gen eat, taking the food from her hand. In that manner their Mistress fed them, making sure they both ate dinner, sending Gen back to fill the plate once more and then emptying it in the same manner. Gen feeding Noah, Lyda feeding Gen.

  On the second plate, Lyda allowed Noah to release his cock, which stood quite well on its own. She didn't give him direction on where to place his hand, so over time, Gen noticed he braced one on the seat of her chair. As she shifted to feed him, she managed to position herself where his knuckles were against the base of her thigh. Lyda didn't prohibit it. She stroked his hair as she had Gen take food from her fingertips.

  Whereas the arousal she'd spawned before had been overpowering and strong, this kept a nice sexual hum going, at a resonance Gen could enjoy for hours. Days.

  Finally, they were done. Lyda pushed the plate away, sat back. "Noah, kiss Gen."

  He rose on his knees, sliding his arm around her waist. Gen barely had time to draw an anticipatory breath before his mouth was on hers. There was something to be said about restraining a man's natural assertiveness. It was like shaking a bottle of soda. He kissed her with a thoroughness that had to be unique, had to be for the two of them alone, her and Lyda.

  He belongs to us, Gen thought fervently, staring into his eyes when he pulled back. She'd destroy anyone who tried to hurt him. Lyda would bury the body at her nursery. Use it for fertilizer.

  "Missed a piece," Lyda said. He lifted his head, turned his attention to her. She had a piece of egg in her fingertips. He took it from her with such gentleness, it made Gen ache. His attention was fastened on his Mistress's face with a raptness that matched the intensity of Gen's kiss.

  "We're going to Gatlinburg with you, Noah. Both of us."

  From his startled expression, it was clear Lyda hadn't informed him that she was going, let alone Gen. But he rallied. "Yeah. I mean, yes Mistress."

  Surprised, almost boyish pleasure crossed his face. Even Lyda wasn't immune to it, for her mouth firmed as if to hold back her own smile. She caressed his jaw. "Be still," she murmured, gripping his throat when he started to lean forward. Lyda kissed him, teasing his tongue with hers, holding that flesh and blood collar on his neck. It caused something between a moan and a growl from him, those brown eyes showing pinpoints of fire.

  When Lyda drew back, she rose from the table. "Wait for me. No talking."

  She disappeared down the hallway, going out the back door. Gen glanced at Noah, and was caught by his gaze. It was amazing how full silence could become. By the time Lyda came back, about five minutes later, she was literally lost in everything she saw in his eyes.

  Lyda was carrying a book. Stepping out of the shoes she'd donned to go outside, she turned toward the stairs to the second level without stopping. "Follow me. Both of you."

  Noah rose, offered Gen his hand. She laced his fingers with her own. She wanted to say so many things to him, but she kept letting her eyes do it. Lyda was right. Words didn't cover certain things. Lifting both her hands to his face, he pressed his mouth against them. Tears pricked her eyes. He nodded as if they'd actually spoken, and then led her in Lyda's wake.

  When they reached the doorway of the bedroom, Lyda was standing by the bed. It was the first time Gen had noticed the cage had a two doors in it, the second fitting into the design so seamlessly it would be overlooked except when open, as now. A divider had been added to the cage, a barred insert that turned one cage into two aligned side by side, so Lyda could reach down and touch either of the occupants from the same side of the bed. A mattress had been added to the new compartment and Noah's mattress had been rotated to accommodate the adjustment. Now Gen knew what Noah had been doing those extra minutes alone upstairs.

  "In you both go," Lyda said. "And no, it's not time to sleep. Not yet."

  Something had changed when she retrieved the book. Though her face was impassive, Gen picked up a tense note in her voice. Noah seemed to as well, but he moved forward at Lyda's command, holding onto Gen's hand until the last moment, as if he knew she needed the reassurance. Gen watched him take his place beneath the bed, then lifted her gaze to Lyda's.

  "I know it's not your thing," her Mistress said. Her expression softened slightly. "But for the next few minutes it is. You can leave the door open."

  Gen thought it through. That very first night, Lyda had told her she could refuse anything, without repercussions or guilt. Even now, she was waiting on her, not in that impat
ient way to goad Gen's arousal with a Mistress's demand or threat. She was giving Gen time to determine if this was a hard limit.

  Her gaze slid to Noah. He'd shifted to his side, had his head propped on his fist, and was studying her. As her eyes slid down his body, she noticed he had one foot threaded through the bars, into the cage she would be occupying. Intentional or not, the whimsical gesture, the light in his eyes as he saw her notice it, made her realize this was still within her control. She could leave the door open, right?

  Noah had said there was a security to sleeping inside of cage. She supposed that depended on whether that cage rested beneath your Mistress's bed, a Mistress whom you trusted to hold your well-being above all other things. By showing that trust, she supposed a sub gave the Mistress a gift in return.

  Taking a breath, Gen moved past Lyda. Giving her another quick glance, she knelt and slid into the cage.

  The sheets were pale lavender, and the pillow smelled like that same herb, a pleasant, soothing scent. As Gen slid on to it, she slid down far enough her foot touched Noah's. He curled his toes over her arch, a quick caress. "It's okay," he murmured. "I wouldn't let anything hurt you. Neither would Lyda. You're safe with us."

  So service-oriented he could be mistaken for a Dom. She saw the proof of it in the wholly reassuring touch and tone, his direct look.

  "Who do you serve, Noah?"

  Lyda could issue commands, purr like a siren, or cut like a whip with that voice. This was a new note, cold like an officer dressing down a soldier for an infraction that could have gotten him killed. It brought Noah's head up and his full attention upon her.

  "You, Mistress," he said quietly. "I serve you."

  "I don't believe you." Lyda opened the book, withdrew a folded piece of paper. "This was on the bedside table in the guest cottage."

  Lyda opened it with a snap, showing a bold scrawl. "This was why you hadn't pulled off the bedding yet, wasn't it?"

  Sleep on these sheets before you wash them. --Your Master

  Gen stared at Noah. He'd dropped his gaze to the floor in front of the cage, looking anywhere but at either of them.

  "Look at me," Lyda snapped. His head jerked up, though he looked like he'd rather be Perseus looking at Medusa. "You would have done it. Answer me, Noah."

  "Yes Mistress." His jaw was rigid. "He told me to do it, and it didn't conflict--"

  "His very presence on this property conflicts with your oath to me," Lyda snarled. "And I asked for a goddamn yes or no answer."

  "Yes Mistress." Noah repeated. He was back to looking miserable.

  With the negative ions charging the air, Gen's current position felt even more exposed. She thought about leaving the cage, but she already knew Lyda channeled her emotions with purpose. She'd ordered them into the cage for a reason. As if underscoring that, Lyda glanced her way. Just a brief flicker, but it helped Gen hold steady. Until Lyda spoke again.

  "Gen had to learn a similar lesson tonight, Noah. That if she belongs to me, she doesn't let other women kiss her." Her gaze shifted to Gen. "I'm still not convinced. Until I say otherwise, whenever the clock chimes the quarter hour, no matter what else we're doing, you say 'I'm yours, Mistress'."

  "All this, for one kiss," Gen said shakily.

  "All this, for allowing another Mistress to touch you without my permission. If you don't want my ownership, all you have to do is say so, right now. I let you out of the cage, we share a glass of wine. You can curl up with me in the bed."

  "But it changes things, doesn't it? You want more than that from me. You want me to belong to you, like him."

  "Yes, I expect you both to fully belong to me." Gen trembled at the passion in Lyda's gaze, a dragoness roused from her lair. "You wanted Marguerite to kiss you to prove something to yourself. Now you prove something to me. Watch the clock, and be still."

  Lyda unlatched Noah's cage, jerked her head at him. "If you want to prove who you serve, Noah, serve your Mistress now. Get out here."

  *

  The man had his insubordinate moments, but Lyda's anger made him obedient as a disciple of God. Noah was out in a heartbeat, a flexible, quick roll and slide that brought him nearly to Lyda's feet, on his knees. He looked at her with such a yearning expression, Gen felt a hitch in her chest. Everything about him said Yours, Mistress. Yet he'd said he'd go back to Elias if she released him, as if it was as simple as that.

  Gen didn't buy it. She'd lay money, whether Noah admitted it or not, that he'd never looked at anyone the way he was looking at Lyda now.

  She knew Lyda saw it, because Gen was starting to learn her face, those minute shifts in features. When something moved her and she didn't necessarily want to show it, there was a tightening around her mouth, a quick glitter in her gaze, like a sudden shooting star, her reaction too bright and quick to shadow.

  "On your back." Lyda's attention shifted to his cock. "You're going to have to work on getting that a bit harder, aren't you? Do it, while I'm watching you."

  Noah stretched out at Lyda's command, one hand curled around his thick shaft. He stroked and squeezed, thumbed his slit, teased his corona. He knew his body well, and it responded to that and Lyda's attention, his buttocks tightening against the carpet as he pushed his cock deeper into his grip. As his gaze moved hungrily over his Mistress's naked form, standing over him, he slid his other hand over the carpet, stopping at the side of her foot. She glanced down at it, then shifted her gaze back to him. Whatever he saw gave him the latitude to move his hand over her foot, curl around the top of it.

  "It's nice having him working for me," Lyda said casually. "I can role play sexual harassment scenarios all day. Though I need to have Brendan give him drama lessons. He doesn't do self-righteous helpless indignation." Her lips quirked.

  It took Gen a moment to catch up, realize Lyda was talking to her. The two of them had her mesmerized. "Look at that cock," Lyda purred. "Getting nice and hard for me."

  She straddled him, going gracefully to her knees. Moving his hand out of the way with an imperious nudge, she wrapped her own around his jutting cock.

  "Hands above your head, Noah. I'm in charge here."

  Lyda sank to the hilt upon him smoothly, showing how well their bodies knew one another. She let out a little hum at the sensation, her thighs tightening around his hips, ass flattening against the tops of his thighs as she bore down, took him as deep as she could. Noah's face went rigid with pleasure and concentration, his knuckles pushing into the carpet. Gen's pussy gave an unmistakable twinge of longing.

  The clock began to chime. "I'm yours, Mistress." It was a soft plea. When Lyda looked her way, Gen hoped she saw that she meant it. Maybe not just in the heat of a session like this, but other times as well. She'd gotten into a cage for her. Jesus.

  Lyda extended a hand. "Come here, rabbit. Bring that footstool by my bed."

  Noah reflected avid pleasure at the command. They were good at that. Gen never felt forgotten or ignored, even when Lyda was spinning things up between her and Noah specifically. Like a three-member cast. They might have different timing for entering or exiting the scene, but all three were still part of the play.

  When she brought her the carved wooden stool, Lyda put it down, showing her that it was wide enough to bracket Noah's lower chest, right in front of Lyda's knees, and tall enough it cleared him by a mere couple of inches. The implication made Gen swallow on a dry throat, particularly when Lyda gripped Gen's hand with a fierceness that conveyed the arousal Lyda was experiencing, impaled on Noah. "Watch," Lyda said.

  She must have tightened her internal muscles, because a groan slipped from his lips. Lyda rose on her knees, his cock sliding slowly from her cunt. Gen looked at that joining point, fascinated as Lyda reached the head, then reversed, coming back down just as slow, using a palm braced on the stool to control her descent. Noah's hips jerked, his whole body contracting in a mouthwatering way to stay still.

  Lyda did it again, her gaze fastened on his face. Gen watched them both, a
ching. She squeezed Lyda's hand in unspoken need.

  "I think she wants to play too," Lyda said, breathless. "Come here, Gen."

  She guided Gen to straddle Noah, Gen facing Lyda. Bringing her down on the stool in front of her, Lyda cupped Gen's ass in both hands and directed Gen's legs over her own. Then she had Gen slide forward so her pussy came flush against Lyda's lower abdomen, her inner thighs against Lyda's sides, her heels pressed to the outside of Noah's legs. They were close enough Lyda's breasts dragged a teasing course up Gen's stomach, then pressed into her own bosom. Anything Gen might say was caught in a gasp.

  Nudging her head back, Lyda kissed her throat, then bit. Gen wound her arms around Lyda's shoulders, fingers tangling in her hair. Lyda's arms bound low around her back and hips in answer, holding her close, face pressed into her throat. "That's my girl. Hang on for the ride."

  Another rise and fall, Lyda moving against Gen's body, lifting her with the movement. Gen had a hysterical, lust-induced vision of a carousel horse, only this was a much different ride from when she was a child. As Lyda lifted and lowered her body, Gen's clit rubbed against her tight lower abdomen, her legs locking around Lyda's body to increase the sensation. Lyda's nipples slid across Gen's curves, then came in direct contact with her own taut peaks. It wrenched a moan from her throat. Lyda murmured against her, licked and bit her throat again. Then she closed her mouth on one of those aching points.

  Gen made another throaty sound as Lyda suckled her, nipped sharp enough to make her jump, her pussy cream. She'd be marking Lyda with that fluid. It would roll down, join the lubrication Lyda and Noah were producing from their own arousal. She realized then that Lyda didn't have him using a condom. Gen envied that direct contact.

  As Lyda kept working herself on his cock, her breath a rush against Gen's throat, Noah's hands slid onto Gen's hips, overlapping Lyda's.

  "I can take both of you," he said, his voice rough with lust. "Let me feel her against me, Mistress. If that pleases you."

  "You please me, Noah. You both do." Lyda eased Gen back to her feet. Gen moved the stool and then, at Lyda's direction, she sank back down. The brief brush of her wet pussy again Lyda's stomach made her shudder, but Lyda had a steadying hold on her, bringing her all the way back down so her ass rested on Noah's stomach, her legs curved around Lyda and heels resting behind her, between Noah's spread knees.