A Betty's Pledge: Volume One (15 page)

I realized that kissing a woman was much different than kissing a man. Her lips were
softer, more pliable, and she tasted like a faint hint of mint that I usually didn’t
catch on a guy. But the most significant difference was that she kissed me back like
a woman, and what I meant by that was she seemed to know how I would like to be kissed.
She knew instinctively when I wanted to go deeper and when I wanted to tease. She
knew how hard to suck my lips and when to play with my tongue. She knew not to force
anything on me, but read my body language to show her what I liked. She was attentive,
and I wondered if that was because of her training or because she was a woman.

“Mady,” Diane said as she pulled her lips from mine, and trailing them down my neck.

“Yeah,” I said, breathless, closing my eyes at the sensation and bending my neck to
give her better access.

“I want to touch you,” she said, bringing her hand from my knee and trailing it up
my thigh toward the hemline of my dress.

“Okay,” I said, my hands going on a little discovering adventure of their own.

“I want to see you,” Diane said as she pulled on my clothing. She wasn’t really putting
any effort into taking the offending material off. She was just tugging in a way that
I got her distaste for the obstacle.

“Okay.” I giggled, pulling away from her briefly so I could undress in front of her.
I unhooked the belt on my waist as Diane discarded her opened blouse completely. Her
skirt had ridden up her thighs, leaving me a wide view of her lower body and the white
satin thong she wore. She leaned back on the bed onto her elbows as she watched me.

I started with the zipper in the back of the dress, pulling it down as far as I could,
loosening it up so it fell from my torso easily. The back was going to be a little
bit more difficult because of the fit of the dress. I’d have to unzip it fully so
it was wide enough to pass my hips. I didn’t have any panties on, and I smiled when
Diane’s eyes widened at the sight.

See, eroticism hidden beneath a cookie crumb exterior. My kind of sexuality.

I reached behind me and unclasped my bra, letting it fall toward the ground aimlessly
before I finished the job with my dress. When it finally fell to the ground, I looked
at Diane to see if she liked what she saw.

“Mmm, Mady. You’re beautiful . . .” She reached her hand out to me. “Come here.”

I took her hand and let her pull me onto the bed. She positioned herself above me,
straddling me but not putting any weight on me. She bent down and put her mouth on
my breasts, teasing and nipping like I’d done to her. Then she began to kiss me again,
but it was more passionately this time, more heated. The feeling of her breasts rubbing
against mine as we kissed was highly erotic, fueling the desire to be with her even
more than before.

Diane trailed her lips down toward my chest again, her hand moving in patterns along
my body. I could feel her getting closer and closer to my core, and I was feeling
that she might be hesitating because she didn’t want to push me further than I was
willing to go. Maybe she was trying to interpret my body language, making sure she
was reading my signals right before she continued, but I didn’t want to wait any longer.

“Touch me,” I told her, giving her that permission she seemed to be seeking.

Diane’s fingers were on me then automatically touching me in the place that made every
woman on Earth squirm and writhe and moan. She worked me expertly, knowing exactly
how much pressure to use and which way to move. I was panting and shaking, my hands
pulling at my hair as she worked me over. Her mouth on my breasts, her fingers on
my clit, I was close to coming undone.

“You look so good beneath me, Betty,” she told me, her words sweet and filthy at the
same time. “The way your body moves, the way you feel . . . I want to taste you, Mady.
Is that okay?”

“Yes,” I panted, practically snarling at her to touch me, taste me, anything to make
me feel that thrill again. “Please.”

She moved down me, spreading my legs even farther until my heels dug into the mattress
and my knees spread wide. The tips of her fingers ran down my lower lips, teasing
and testing my response to her. My thighs tensed around her, wanting to shield myself
from the unknown. But Diane carefully eased me into a relaxed pose, placing small
kisses along my groin as her fingers continued to graze me.

She used her thumb to massage my clit. Her other fingers were doing other things to
me that I couldn’t describe because I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it. It felt like
she had one finger pressed onto the small section of skin between my vagina and ass.
The other seemed to be tracing small circles around my opening as her thumb pressed
on my clit. The combination of sensations had me reeling.

“Please,” I breathed. “Please . . .”

“Does this feel good, Betty?” Diane said, inserting a finger into me as she bent her
head. Plush lips wrapped around my clit and began to massage it with a firm tongue.

“Yes,” I panted, my head pushing into the mattress as my body arched. My legs parted
completely wanting her deeper into me as my hips automatically pushed upward. She
took advantage of my offering, devouring me with her tongue, her lips, her touch . . .

I could feel the strength of my release building deep within me, churning and undulating
inside my core. It was different this time with her. With Isaac, I had come so hard
and fast that I was left breathless and wanton. With Diane, it was different. The
anticipation and anxiety of trying something new heightened my experience, accenting
my lust and passion with a hint of excitement that I usually lacked when I was with
a man.

When Diane kissed me, she did it with passion and trust. When she touched me, she
did it with understanding and fondness. And when she licked me the way a woman should,
I felt my insides burn into molten heat under her skill.

My legs began to tremble as the tension built inside me. My breathing became labored
in short little pants, and incoherent words poured from my mouth as the mixed sensations
ran through me.

“That’s it, baby,” Diane breathed onto my clit, making everything grow to a screeching
roar. “Come for me. Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

As my orgasm ripped through my body, it felt like each one of my nerve endings were
channeled toward her touch. The softness of her fingers, the feel of her silken skin
pressed to mine, made me feel cherished and considered in a way I never felt before.
And when she opened her mouth and spoke in her sweet tone, encouraging me while telling
me how beautiful I was, I came undone.

I felt her mouth on me, pulling me through my release until I was spent. Diane brought
me down from my orgasm but she wasn’t done. No. With slow movements, like a cat enjoying
a vat of milk, she worked me into the beginnings of another joyous release.

I glanced down, wanting to see how it looked to have a woman between my legs lapping
up the remnants she’d just bestowed upon me. Her hair was fanned out on my thigh,
her ass held up in the air as she worked me over. She looked so good, gazing up at
me while she devoured me.
Enjoyed
me. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen, and it made me escalate into another
round of passionate ecstasy.

I noticed Nate from behind her, watching us going at it in that same position he’d
held earlier. He didn’t look as relaxed as he did before, however. In fact, he kind
of looked like he was in pain. Diane paused to see what had caught my attention, however
tenuous. Turning back to me, she moved her voluptuous body up my own and came up to
whisper in my ear.

“Mind if Nate comes to play?” she asked, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow as
she waited for my answer.

“No,” I said with a sly smile. “Let’s play . . .”

The Mentor

~ Isaac Wilson ~

“I don’t get it,” Brad said, munching on his bowl of popcorn like a fucking pig. “I
mean, we seem to go through the motions of this bullshit every time we get a new batch
of girls. Can’t we just take them for a test drive and toss them in the junkyard if
the parts are no good?”

The way he was chomping on his food, smacking his lips between each word, made me
almost nauseous. I could hardly stand to be around Brad as it was, but add his crass
commentary with any type of food and I’d about had it.

“There are formalities that need to be addressed, Brad,” Trent replied calmly, and
I was glad the guy had enough patience to deal with the douche bag. I’d personally
met my quota of annoyance the moment the shithead opened his mouth. Thank God Trent
had the temperament of a saint.

“I don’t see why. I mean, why give them false hope? They are here for our pleasure,
aren’t they?”

I laughed. For once in his daft life, Brad had a point.

“That’s not the purpose of the program, dumbass.” Trent gave an agitated sigh. “It’s
more than that.”

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for that rhetoric, too?” I said to him, my expression
amused. I didn’t want to be so morose about it, but lately this whole program seemed
to be so mundane. And my conversation with Carson last night didn’t lessen my sour
mood about it at all. It wasn’t like I was closed off to being mated. It was my rationale
for coming to the mansion in the first place. But after finding nothing but the stale
and flat breed of wealthy women who grazed these halls, I found my confidence that
it would happen for me dwindling to nothing.

Trent just looked at me blankly, not answering my question.

“Fuck, dude. I thought only the mated shits around here talked that way.” Brad laughed
at Trent’s silence.

“Maybe it’s because they get it,” Trent retorted.

“No,” Brad argued hotly. “Maybe it’s because they found some good pussy and are now
eyeballs deep in that shit. Believe me, once all these mated couples leave this place
of free fornicated bliss, their blessed unions will crumble and fall, just like the
fucked-up logic of this place.”

Between each word, he was spewing bits of popped corn out of his mouth. I cringed,
kind of grossed out. Yet, part of me thought that maybe I should question the fact
that my worsening opinion of the program seemed to coincide with that of a harebrained
idiot. I didn’t let myself ponder on that fact too long. I didn’t want anything clouding
my internal debate any more than it already was.

Not now. Not after meeting her . . .

Madeline Cain turned out to be more than I expected. Well, that wasn’t exactly true.
Something about her trial had set my blood boiling from the beginning. I just didn’t
expect her to be so passionate and erotic. The way she moved, how she moaned beneath
me as I made her come had set my desire to a whole other level. The little sounds
she made, the way she panted, almost like she was shocked that I could make her feel
that good, got to me in some way I couldn’t explain.

I tried to tell myself that it was just male pride causing me to feel so
possessive
. I knew for a fact that Madeline hadn’t had a decent orgasm by a man. It was shamefully
pathetic, but it gave me a sense of ownership. That I could forever declare I was
the man to give her one. Her first one.

The pledges didn’t know that we had access to their personal file. They were under
the impression that they were only for the Dames, used only to cultivate their program
to fit their specific needs. In reality, they were for us. It gave us the inside scoop,
allowing us that hidden glimpse into the Betty’s psyche. If I listened to the Grant
theory, it was supposed to train us to better decipher what our partners’ needs were.
To train us how to pick up on the little cues. To let them know what they liked and
disliked, in and out of the bedroom.

I thought that was utter bullshit.

Personally, I believed the misleading nature of the program set up a foundation of
lies and deceit. How could the women trust us later when we’ve lied to them from the
very beginning?

But I guessed that my thinking was just way off, because that was the way they’d run
this place for years.

Besides, these women who applied to the program were only out for one thing: to get
fucked good and plenty. And I was here to oblige. I was like a stud, in a way. An
empty, meaningless, indifferent stud, only used to help fulfill wayward fantasies
for some high society princesses.

Fuck, the whole thing was getting really tiresome.

There was something about Madeline, though. She had a manner about her that seemed
intriguing. She didn’t fit the mold of a typical Betty, but I couldn’t quite put my
finger on what that difference could be. I didn’t think it had anything to do with
the fact she’d been sponsored into the program. Maybe she didn’t seem as pathetically
eager as the other ones. No, that wasn’t right. I’d witnessed her desperation up close
and personal, but she didn’t permeate the atmosphere with her desire like the other
women did. Her need was subtle, covert, and that fact made her more appealing somehow.

“All I’m saying is that there might be more to all this shit than sticking your dick
in some random female,” Trent replied, pulling me out of my thoughts and back into
the debate at hand.

“Says the guy who’s been eye-fucking every broad that walked into the joint last night,”
Carson said with a snort, speaking for the first time. He’d been resolutely silent
throughout our conversation. And part of me forgot he was sitting behind me, seemingly
in his own little internal debate. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy the highlights
of the mansion, man. I know you better than that.”