Taking Gen's hand, Lyda turned and moved up the hallway, leaving Noah there. Gen heard the sound of him rising, his bare feet padding behind them. She wanted to look back, but Lyda kept a brisk pace. As they passed the kitchen, Gen glimpsed an open space with gleaming pots and pans.
The living room had designer furniture and beautiful, bold prints of exotic plants. A flat screen TV was mounted on the wall. Lyda took a seat on the sofa, propping an arm on the back of the couch, her legs curled up beneath her. She patted the cushion in front of her. "Facing me, one leg bent on the seat cushion in front of you, the sole of your foot against your opposite knee, forming a triangle. Other foot on the floor."
The position stretched the thin crotch of Gen's panties over her plump sex. It was clear from Lyda's appreciative glance that the short skirt revealed it. "You blush when I look at your pussy. It's charming. Noah only blushes if I embarrass him."
"Why did you? Just now. All of it seemed...mean."
"Remember what I said about Noah needing the more heavy-handed methods? The cock sheath might seem cruel, but it's part of what he craves, Gen. A good Domme never does what a sub doesn't truly, deeply want." Lyda pursed her lips. "A
s far as telling you about the infection, a submissive's top priority is self-care. There's no failure a good Mistress punishes more harshly and, with a sub like Noah, you have to remind him, over and over. He's an excessive nurturer, to the point he could be mistaken for a Dom. His form of submission is like an ocean wave, holding you down. Which makes him an excellent partner to work with a Mistress. It also makes him insanely indifferent to himself."
She paused, as if she'd say more, but then she shook her head. "Tonight is not about that."
She reached out, stroked Gen's hair some more, but when Gen began to lift her own hand to return the favor, Lyda's look stilled her. "Hands stay at your sides, Gen."
"I don't get to touch you?"
"Not unless I give permission."
That had been easier to accept in the club environment. Here, she found herself more uncomfortable with the messages being sent. Toward her, Noah. "Why is that?"
"Because I said so." Humor flitted through Lyda's gaze at the parental dictate, even as her expression remained set, telling Gen that the teasing didn't change her orders. "As children, we may resent hearing that, but it shuts down the argument, makes us focus on simple obedience. It's a reminder of structure and boundaries, of who holds the reins. At its root, it's a feeling of security."
"Do I seem like someone who needs that?"
"You tell me." Those silver eyes pinned her. "There's a part of you that's thinking you should pull back, tell me to get over myself. You're telling yourself you need to do something to reestablish us as equals. But another part of you wants to submit, and the why of that has you confused.
"There are submissives who need to resist to achieve that sense of security, and they'll challenge a Dom more or less to get it. Then there are those who'll play for the fun and novelty of it, but when you tap into the deeper levels, they simply draw away, a clear message that true submission, that craving, isn't their thing."
Gen wet her lips. "How do you tell the difference?"
"Practice. Intuition. Trial and error. This is a consensual game, Gen. No matter what I do to you, you can end it with a single word. We call it a safeword. However, I always rely on unconscious signals first and foremost, because they're more truthful, and often come into play long before the safeword."
"You think I'm a submissive, not just someone indulging a sexual adventure."
"Being a submissive is a wide, wide range. At this point, I'd rather not slap a label on you, and not just because it would spook you. I think it would limit us both. Whatever you are...it's interesting." One of those slim brows arched. "The fact you did what you did at the club, and how you respond to soft commands, like keeping your hands at your sides now, tells me you want to explore this more yourself."
It was hard to argue with that. But since she seemed amenable to questions, Gen had plenty. "Say all that's true tomorrow. How does this work going forward? Do we set up appointments...dates? Is it a relationship or like going to a carnival every once in a while?" Realizing she might sound like a clingy first date, she added, awkwardly, "This isn't my world. I don't know how it works."
"I wouldn't say it's not your world. It's not a world you've chosen to enter until now." Lyda lifted a hand, ticking off points on her fingers. "Your boss is a very strong female Dominant, but you defer to her on a personal level as well as a professional one. Are you friends?"
When Gen hesitated over it, Lyda nodded. "The question gives you pause because yes, she is a friend, but there's something more there too. Like family, but not. She provides a certain direction to your life, a stability to your core, that you've never examined all that closely."
Lyda slid her fingertips over Gen's knee, a stroke that sent the nerve endings around it rippling. Then she resumed her count. "Your best friend chose a man fully immersed in the Dom/sub world for her husband. You took Noah into your home for the weekend, and when you learned what he was, you took steps toward exploring the limits of that. In the shallow end, yes, but you did. And tonight, you surrendered yourself to me publicly, almost without hesitation."
"It was the environment. When in Rome..." Gen trailed off before that keen glance, one that brooked no lying. Jesus, just like Marguerite. "But I have no idea what I'm doing or why I'm doing it. That's not like me. I don't like uncertainty."
"This is entirely different from anything you've ever done, but don't assume it's alien, Gen. Haven't you ever visited a new place that, for reasons you can't explain, feels familiar?"
"Sounds like what cult leaders say."
Lyda chuckled at that, but it wasn't cynical or mocking. She sounded appreciative of Gen's humor. The sultry note was also very distracting. Gen found herself wanting to lay a hand on her throat, feel the vibration of it. Lyda had a beautiful neck, coaxing the fingertips to stroke the lines of it, follow that slope to the generous breasts. She was obviously not going to have clear thoughts about any of this until she was well out of range of Noah or Lyda.
Resigned to that, she shifted the topic to Lyda herself. "Was that how it worked for you? I mean...you weren't born with cuffs in one hand, a whip in the other, right?"
The lines around Lyda's eyes crinkled. "No. But as I told you in the car, stories about me will come another time."
The woman slid her nails under Gen's bra strap, caressing her collarbone, then dipped to the upper rise of her breast. Gen's skin rose in gooseflesh beneath the touch, and she drew in a breath as Lyda pushed deeper into the cup, her finger playing over her nipple as it hardened. Gen tried not to squirm on the couch in response. Her attention went back to Lyda's breasts, those few undone hooks of the corset revealing a tempting, shadowed valley.