Divine Solace (Nature of Desire 8)

"He's going to need me to be harsh tonight," their Mistress mused. "I'm in the mood to take you along for the same ride, since I've been thinking about you ever since your visit this morning. I want to run you both into the fucking ground."

"So we just...carry on." Gen pushed the response past the anticipatory quake Lyda was causing through word and gesture.

"Forward is the only way you ever get anywhere." Lyda rose. "Do you want to tell me why I have a voicemail from Marguerite, wanting to talk to me about you?"

Oh crap. "I...we can talk about it later. It's nothing, I'm sure. M sees me spending more time with you, and she's a good friend. She's protective." After Gen's agitated display earlier, she was sure Marguerite was going to reinforce more of what she and Lyda had already done the Vulcan mind meld over. Sometimes good friends, especially when one of them was a formidable Domme, could be a pain in the ass. She was sure M wouldn't tell Lyda about the kiss. That was up to Gen. Or Lyda, apparently.

"Hmm. Probably. But that's not why you just turned the color of a tomato." Lyda's eyes had gone to that laser sharpness. "You're lying to me, Gen, which isn't a good idea. Particularly not in my present mood. Didn't I tell you this morning that you always keep your legs open when you're around me, just the two of us?"

Sexual tension spiked right into Gen's emotional quagmire. The woman had an uncanny way of doing that.

Gen opened her knees, pressing her palms against the cool concrete step. Stepping forward, Lyda put a hand right up under the skirt, just as she'd done earlier in the locker room. This time, though, she found her way beneath the panties and pushed two fingers in to the base knuckle without hesitation, making Gen gasp.

"Nice and wet. Just from me playing with your nipple. Or maybe something else has you simmering. Why did you blush, Gen? What happened with Marguerite? Make me ask you once more, you won't like what I'll do next."

"I asked her to kiss me." Gen bit back a cry as Lyda sent a jolt of sensation to her core. Her nipples tingled like they'd been hit with an electric charge. "I was trying...to make sure...it wasn't just any Mistress."

"Hmm. What was the verdict?" Another scissoring of Lyda's fingers made Gen fight not to writhe. Lyda's face was close, but her expression made her as remote as a queen on a throne. The concrete temperature wasn't doing anything to calm Gen's blood, especially when Lyda gave her clit a tug.

"It's you. You make me feel...different." Gen's throat ached. "I would have told you right off, but Noah..."

"Bullshit. You weren't going to tell me. Why?"

Gen yelped at the next wave of sensation. God, what was she doing with her hand? "I didn't know how you'd react. If you'd laugh at me, or withdraw, or...not react at all."

Lyda sighed. "One sub thinks I owe him nothing, that I can back over him with a truck if I want. Another keeps trying to force emotional validation to ensure she's not on quicksand. Some capricious goddess is testing me. Or trying to piss me off."

Withdrawing her fingers, she licked at the pads while Gen tried to get her breath. "Don't you dare close those legs. You stay there and let that cunt that belongs to me throb. We're done with all the overthinking tonight."

She disappeared into the house. Gen had no time to unscramble her thoughts before she returned, holding something behind her back. "Come up here onto the porch. Bend over and hold your ankles. Close your eyes."

The woman's ability to shift gears was as unsettling as the fact Gen was obeying. If she'd had the ability to form coherent words she would have told Lyda the kiss Marguerite had given her had woken a neon sign in her loins, blinking bright and pointing right at Lyda. But maybe she had just told her that, in a different way.

She bent over, gripped her ankles. Lyda tucked the hem of her skirt into the waist band and then pulled Gen's panties to her thighs. Gen made a tiny noise of protest as a dildo was worked into pussy. And not just there. Her fingers clutched her ankles as she realized it was dual-headed. Lyda slid the shorter, lubricated plug into her anus. Gen groaned with frustrated pleasure as Lyda cinched it all into place. Done in a blink, efficient as only a Domme who'd done it plenty of times could be.

"Straighten up slow. There we go." Gen jolted as the two items started to strum with a low level vibration in both orifices, radiating through every erogenous zone.

Stepping back, Lyda leveled that look that said she was the head bitch in charge and dead certain to stay that way. "I'm hungry. You're cooking dinner tonight. You and Noah both."

Chapter Twelve

Lyda had brought home Chinese takeout, but she was as exacting about her food presentation as a gourmet chef. She wanted it on a certain set of plates. The rice had to be aligned at a ten o'clock position from the entree--and shaped in an oblong pile. The silverware required polishing with a hand towel first.

Tasks that weren't too difficult, except when wearing a vibrator that pushed Gen beyond motor control. She came the first time while shining a fork. She grabbed the cabinet so her knees didn't buckle. Noah shifted against her, using his body to sandwich her between it and him, steady her. She turned her face into his bare chest as she screamed through it.

Thanks to Lyda's equal attention, Noah couldn't use his hands to balance her.

Lyda had made it clear Noah needed a harsher Mistress tonight, and she was more than up to the task. When Lyda released him from the cage, she'd told him brusquely to meet her downstairs in fifteen minutes, and murmured something to him Gen hadn't been able to catch. Whatever it was had caused Noah's gaze to flick over her in an intriguing--and disturbing--way.

However, once he came downstairs, Lyda brought him to the living room and had him kneel, put his forehead to the floor. While Gen watched from the door--holding onto the frame, biting her lip to manage the waves of sensation caused by the vibrator--Lyda pushed a lubricated dildo up his ass as well. The phallus had an additional cock harness piece she secured around the base and neck of his shaft. The collar around the corona contained a bullet vibrator, stimulating the base of the glans in a way sure to steal his coordination.

Making him straighten to his knees, she'd buckled a collar on his throat. With her gaze trained on his lowered eyes, the set mouth, she'd added cuffs to his wrists and attached a spreader bar to them and the collar. Now he was yoked like an oxen. To pick up a cup of wine, a plate, he had to bend his knees and carefully maneuver, or risk the unthinkable infraction of knocking something over or off the counter.

Yes, it was punishment, but Gen soon realized it wasn't humiliation. How exacting and focused he had to be on his movements seemed an extension of the centering effect the cage had provided him. He was intensely aroused in no time, yet emotionally much more like his usual self.

Seeing him naked except for the harness, his natural grace hampered by the spreader bar but requiring a lot of flexing muscle to obey their Mistress's commands, only served to tip Gen closer to another climax. As far as that first one, she didn't know if Lyda had instructed him to hold her up, or he'd just anticipated the need, since even when Noah was being punished, he and Lyda seemed to work together to watch over Gen. The same way she and Lyda did to Noah.

And, point in fact, the way Gen and Noah did for Lyda. Though it might seem like she needed a lot less care than the two of them, Gen's mind was working that issue, and she suspected what they were doing right now fulfilled Lyda's needs, soothing any agitation this day had caused her with the balm of their submission.