Divine Solace: 8 (18 page)

As Lyda held her in one arm, she prodded Noah with her foot,
a gentle tease. “On your feet, you worthless male animal.”

Noah cracked an eyelid, but agreeably complied, pushing
himself up onto his hip and getting his feet underneath him. When Lyda reached
down to him, Gen automatically did the same. Noah paused, as if he might wave
off the help, but in the end, he clasped their hands, though he used his own
strength to pull himself up, tightening his grip on their fingers as a sign of
connection. Despite that, Lyda watched him with her sharp eyes to ensure he had
his balance before releasing him.

Gen thought she could have walked on her own as well, but
having Lyda’s body pressed against her side wasn’t something she’d deny
herself. She hadn’t tied the robe, completely comfortable with exposing her
breasts, the slope of her abdomen and the shaved point of her sex, her long,
toned legs. Gen had tasted those breasts, that sex. She wanted to taste her
everywhere, wanted to taste Noah’s flesh. Though it was a low-level hum beneath
the emotional and physical exhaustion from the big events of the day, it was a
tone that was steady and true. A promise that she’d want more than one night of
this.

Lyda took her down the hall and up a set of steep, narrow
stairs smelling of old wood. Noah followed close behind them. Gen had the
impression of more interesting artwork along the way. No photographs, except
for a couple art pieces, not family photos. At the top of the stairs, they
turned right, passing a guestroom, a bathroom, and then they were at the master
bedroom.

Lyda had a tester bed with thick pillars and a carved wooden
overhang. It looked like an antique, but some unusual customization had been
done beneath it. Something startling enough to break Gen out of her post-coital
trance. She balked, uncertain. Lyda’s grip tightened on her.

“It’s all right, Gen. Trust me.”

Tester beds sat high enough off the floor that there were
usually steps to allow shorter people easier access to the mattress. Gen
remembered Chloe talking about them once, suggesting they’d been designed by
adults who missed childhood bunk beds.

Nothing childish about what had been built beneath this one.
A cage, as long and wide as the mattress, sturdy enough to also serve as the
frame of the bed. The six-inch spaced bars looked like steel. A twin mattress
inside the cage ran parallel with the long side of the bed. It was a freaking
cage.

“I don’t want to do that.”

“It’s not intended for you.” Lyda said it calmly enough to
soothe Gen’s nerves. Until she realized the implication.

When Lyda pointed to the enclosure, Noah knelt and rolled
gracefully into it. He stretched out on his stomach, bending one leg up and
shifting his hips in a way that had his ass flexing as he adjusted to his
preferred sleeping position on the mattress. Given that he was entirely naked
and seemed to want to sleep on top of the covers, he looked like a Playgirl
centerfold. She wasn’t sure Playgirl got into bondage, though. She was trying
to stay appalled, but when his heavy-lidded brown eyes slid over her with lazy
erotic pleasure, she remembered comparing him to a sleepy wolf.

Letting go of Gen, Lyda leaned over to close the cage door.
Gen noticed the latch had a padlock eye, but it didn’t contain a padlock. Noah
could get out on his own if needed, which made her feel somewhat better.
Reaching through the bars, Lyda tousled Noah’s long hair. His eyes were already
closed again, and when he grunted at the attention, she snorted. “Typical
post-orgasmic male. Useless.”

She said it fondly, rising to face Gen. Pressing her fingers
to her own lips, Lyda laid the transposed kiss on Gen’s forehead. “Bathroom’s
down the hall. I have a guest bedroom next to it, or you can come back to bed
with me.”

Giving her a direct look, Lyda dropped the robe. As she
stepped onto the short set of steps that led up to the bed, Gen noticed Noah’s
eyes opened again. He took his fill of his Mistress naked, and once she’d
ascended to the bed, he slid a hand out between the bars to snag the robe. He
reeled it in until he had it in a silken puddle by his pillow, close enough he
could dream with her scent in his nose.

“You get any drool or other disgusting male fluids on that,
I will cut off your balls with my pruning shears.”

He let out a snuffled sound that could have been a chuckle.

Lyda stretched out her lithe body to turn off the bed lamp.
A nightlight, shaped like a porcelain orchid, glowed by the antique dresser.
Then she turned on her side, facing away from Gen. The cover was off her bare
shoulder, her hair loose along the pillow.

Gen found herself several steps closer to the bed, but she
wasn’t sure of her intent. Her gaze went between the woman on the bed and the
man beneath it. If Lyda extended her hand over edge of the mattress, Noah could
reach through the bars and clasp her slim fingers, if she so desired. The
appeal of that thought disturbed Gen. Then she felt Noah’s fingers slide over
her foot, take a loose grip on her ankle, stroke. Soothing.

“Why a cage?” she asked softly.

“Because it underscores that he’s in my care,” Lyda answered
for him. “That he can trust my ownership, whether it’s simply for a night or
for a longer period. And because it fucking turns me on to see my sub locked up
that way.”

Noah gave that half chuckle, an amused sound of agreement.
Gen turned her gaze down to him. “What does it do for…you?”

He tilted his head up, meeting her gaze with those
distracting brown eyes. “Come inside and find out,” he said simply.

Instead she slid her foot from his grasp and retreated,
mumbling something about the bathroom.

Lyda had an appreciation for top-of-the-line fixtures. Gen
had briefly glimpsed the master bath, and seen a shower with multiple sprayers
and corner benches, the area large enough to double as a steam room. There was
a smaller version of that in the guest bath. The walls and tile were white, but
she’d highlighted the blank canvas with a spray of purple and yellow flowers
over the commode. Along the side of the wide mirror, she had a trio of
colorful, whimsical watercolors of mermaids.

Gen studied the pictures. Lyda’s reserved humor came in
sporadic flashes, but like the touches of color in this room, that gave it more
of an impact.

Gen pulled a makeup wipe from the beauty products in a
sample basket on the counter. Worrying about being seen without makeup seemed
pointless after how vulnerable she’d made herself tonight. Lyda had come out of
the bedroom to do her “reading” without makeup, dressed for bed, but of course
with or without makeup, she was striking. The force of her personality overrode
any embellishment.

Gen cupped her hands over her face. She inhaled Lyda’s damp
pussy, the fragrance lingering in her nose, on her lips, her cheeks. She was
reluctant to wash it away, but she did.

Leaving the bathroom, she found the guest bedroom. The white
spread had fine needlepoint depicting sprays of greenery. Well-tended house
plants clustered in the corner, next to a rocker with a stuffed white bear in
it. The bear was new enough to suggest it wasn’t a cherished childhood memento,
so she wondered how Lyda had acquired it and why she kept it, though it added a
further touch of comfort to an already welcoming room. Lyda had said she could
stay in here.

Or she could get her clothes, find her keys, leave. They
wouldn’t stop her.

Instead, she wandered down the hall, closer to the main
bedroom, though she paused at Lyda’s home office. A laptop on the desk, a
printer and router, the usual things. There was also a TV in there, a shelf of
books and a portable heater for winter, a necessity in a drafty older house to
cut down on heating bills. Though it had looked as if Lyda had a main office
out by the greenhouse, Gen knew running one’s own business successfully was
more than a nine-to-five endeavor, something she appreciated even more now that
M had increased Gen’s involvement in the running of Tea Leaves.

She was back at the entrance to the master bedroom. The
mistress bedroom. A weak joke, underscoring her anxiety. The nightlight showed
Noah sprawled on his stomach, pillow bunched under the curl of his arms, Lyda’s
robe a neat swirl under his elbow.

His breath seemed even. She couldn’t tell if Lyda slept, but
as Gen circled to the other side of the bed, she hesitated. She’d been invited
earlier, but it felt wrong to simply slip in the bed with Lyda, now that her
eyes were closed. She shouldn’t be intimidated by her. She was just a woman,
like Gen, or Chloe…

No, she wasn’t like them. She was like Marguerite, a
different classification. Something inside Gen recognized it and responded
accordingly. That would bear some thinking about. She really should go home.

“Are you sleeping in that dress?”

Lyda’s eyes were half-slits, studying her. Sliding her hand
toward Gen, she hooked the covers, flipped them back. “Take it all off, rabbit.
Come to bed.”

Gen turned to the closet. She slipped the dress off, hesitating
when she saw her thong panties hanging over the knob. Lyda must have been
carrying them in her robe pocket.

Even with a handy vibrator, Gen was usually a
one-orgasm-a-week kind of girl. It seemed impossible that thinking of Lyda
handling her underwear, marked by her arousal, could stir her up again. Lyda
was sleepy, though. There wouldn’t be anything more happening tonight.
Take
a breath
.

Tucking the thong inside the dress and hooking both on the
closet knob, Gen turned back to the bed. She used the steps on that side to
crawl onto the mattress, slide under the covers. She hadn’t slept with anyone
since her second husband. Well, except the night before Chloe’s wedding, when
Chloe and several of her early female guests had dog-piled onto Gen’s bed,
talking into the wee hours of the morning. Chloe had eventually fallen asleep
there, arm wrapped around Gen as she slept, that fond affection that Chloe did
so well. This was very different.

Lyda slid closer, propping herself on her elbow and pushing
Gen to her back so she could gaze down at her. Lyda cupped the side of her
face, her fingers drifting along Gen’s jaw, down her throat, her sternum.

“Ass sore, rabbit?”

“A little.”

“I could see the marks I left on it when you undressed. I
liked that.” Lyda folded back the covers so she could see all of Gen. She
watched the Mistress gaze at her body, fingertips trailing Gen’s rib cage below
her breast, circling over her stomach, teasing her hip bones. She was being
explored. Lyda stroked her knuckles over Gen’s hip, her upper thigh. When she
exerted pressure on it, Gen opened her legs without thought. The approving
murmur made Gen tremble. Inside and out.

Lyda didn’t touch cunt or nipples, barely grazed Gen’s
breasts at all. She stroked her arms and upper thighs, inside her thighs, high
enough to caress the tender pockets on either side of her pussy. Walking her
short-nailed fingers over Gen’s mound, Lyda played with her navel.

Then Lyda lowered her head and put her mouth on all those
same places.

Gen’s breath accelerated, her body moving restlessly. She
bit back a moan, not wanting to disturb the hushed charge in the air. Was Noah
awake and listening to the shift of the box springs above him, wishing he could
be part of this, watch? She bet he was, as much as she wagered that was a vital
component of Lyda’s pleasure, denying him the view to goad his arousal, while
stoking Gen’s.

“You thought about going into the cage, didn’t you?” A
seductive whisper.

“No. Yes…but it’s not for me.”

“But it’s a nice fantasy.” Lyda kissed the valley between
her breasts. Gen had kept her hands at her sides, thinking Lyda would prefer
that, but she couldn’t resist sliding her fingers through her hair now. Lyda
didn’t stop her, and Gen thought nothing had ever felt so lovely as those silken
locks sliding over her fingers, over her breasts. “Would you like to know how I
imagine it, Gen?”

“Yes.” She was whispering too. Lyda discovered more of her
with mouth and fingertips, at the leisurely pace of someone getting used to a
new treasured toy.

“You, captured. Here. Belonging to me, like a pet in truth.
Enclosed, safe. Owned. You can sleep in peace, nothing to do, to think, no
actions to take that I don’t command. Not because you’re helpless.” Lyda lifted
her head, pinned her with that intent gaze. “But because the one thing a strong
submissive deserves and needs is a safe way to surrender all control.”

“There is no such thing.”

“Yes, there is.” Lyda slid her leg over Gen’s, pressing her
knee against her pussy so Gen arched at the pressure. She swallowed a cry as
Lyda rose on both knees and then slipped her hands under Gen’s buttocks to lift
her up to ride the column of her thigh.

“Hands open and above your head.”

Gen complied, though it was hard to stop touching Lyda’s
hair. Her legs were shifting even more impatiently at the flexing pressure of
Lyda’s leg against her pussy.

“All nice and wet again. I want your lovely gush of come to
mark my sheets, Gen. Noah will wash them tomorrow, though I’ll bet our bad boy
will smell them first, rub them against his body.”

A needy noise broke free from Gen’s throat as Lyda put her
body fully between Gen’s thighs, stretching out upon her to bring naked flesh
to naked flesh, her breasts brushing Gen’s, hips pressing her thighs wider.

“Have you wondered how two women have sex, Gen? It’s not
about dildos or strap-ons, though those can be plenty of fun. And no mouth
between your thighs, though that’s a pleasure I’ll take from you again, when I
wish. Tell me what you feel.”

“Your legs…against my thighs. Your body, pressing mine down.
Your breasts, your smell…your hair, falling against my face and shoulders. I
love your hair. Everywhere you are against me…it’s like I’m turning into
flame.”