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Gen shivered at the praise. She moved off that nipple, clasped both breasts, holding them together and tonguing the channel of cleavage before taking the other nipple in her mouth and working on making it as tight a point as the other, glistening with the juices from her mouth. She wanted all of it, wanted her mouth everywhere, so she took time to run her tongue over the areola, trace the shape of the full curve. She even pressed her face to the outer curve, inhaling the lingering aroma of Lyda's sweat, the female animal smell of her. She wanted to burrow her face in between her legs, get a taste of the same. Would Lyda let her do that?
When she tried to go in that direction, her hair was pulled sharply, and she was brought back up to Lyda's breasts. Lyda caught her chin, squeezed it.
"You haven't earned eating my pussy, Gen. You promised me an orgasm from sucking my nipples alone. Unless you're bored...?"
"No Mistress," she said fervently, and returned to suckling, getting more and more aroused as Lyda's breath rate increased, her body arching, her hips starting to move in a coital rhythm, thighs flexing and releasing against Gen's hips. She was rubbing herself against Gen's upper body, and it drove Gen to even crazier rhythms, more insistent and wild. Suckle, bite, draw deep, lick, rub her face between Lyda's breasts, let her tongue and lips go everywhere as her Mistress's body movements became faster. Gen had both her hands inside the shorts, was gripping Lyda's ass, kneading the lovely curves to help her move against her, find that orgasm she'd promised.
"Un-unh." In one abrupt move, Lyda shifted off the bench, taking Gen to the floor, full out beneath her. She pressed her knees on either side of Gen's hips, pinning her there, her upper body still above Gen's face. She forced Gen's arms above her head, then kept them there with a look.
"Keep sucking my tits, Gen."
Gravity could be a wonderful thing, because now as she squeezed and licked, the breasts moved against her face with Lyda's response. Gen moaned as Lyda pushed up her skirt and Lyda slid her mound over her own, a nice firm rub of clit against clit, even under panties and exercise shorts.
"You don't get to come," Lyda said, dark intent in her voice. "Only me. I'm going to keep you hot and wet, because that's the state I want you to suffer, all day today."
She wasn't sure how she was going to obey, because as Lyda worked against her, as goal-oriented as she'd been during her workouts, Gen's pussy was getting ready to go. Then Lyda's fingers closed over her throat. She lifted her upper body, those breasts quivering before Gen, out of range of her mouth. Lyda's grip tightened, restricting Gen's air flow enough it pulled her attention away from them.
"You feel. Feel my orgasm and deny your own."
Cruel, as she'd said. But Gen obeyed. Lyda's pubic bone, the distinctive bud of her clit, rubbed against Gen's with the friction of flammable things. Her pussy tingled, waves rushing over it. She ached to climax, wanted to go over so badly...
Lyda started to come, her fingers flexing on Gen's throat, holding her down, using Gen's body to bring pleasure to her own. Her nipples were in tight points, because Gen's mouth had caused that. Gen had also caused her climax. Gen held onto that, fought to contain her own to further please her Mistress.
It was as Noah had said. There was a difference between when Lyda wanted to force Gen to lose control and when she wanted to drive her to the edge of insanity to prove her control over her.
Gen reveled in the uncontrolled surges of that strong, lithe body, the way Lyda pressed herself hard against Gen at the end, so hard Gen could feel Lyda's pussy pulsing with the last vestiges of her release. Her hands were above her head where Lyda had pushed them, fingers opening and closing helplessly, her body open to whatever Lyda wanted from it, a tight bow string.
Lyda slid back, yanking Gen's legs up to her shoulders. Her ass left the ground as Lyda gripped both buttocks and pushed her face between Gen's thighs. She stopped just short of putting her mouth on her pussy, but Gen could feel her breath there, her face obscured by the bunched folds of her knit skirt. Lyda drew in a shuddering breath, inhaling her arousal, and Gen let out a pleading mewl. Lyda pressed her lips to her labia, suckled, a small taste, a lick or two, just sampling. Gen bit back on a scream, her hands tight fists. A bated, excruciating moment later, Lyda lowered her back to the floor, her hands gripping Gen high on the thighs underneath the skirt.
"Open your eyes."
Gen did, though she knew they had to be glazed. She was panting. Every part of her was swollen, tight, needy. How was she going to function at work like this?
Lyda shifted from her knees to the balls of her feet, then rose. Staring down at Gen, her Mistress seemed to be branding every inch of her with her eyes. Gen saw herself as Lyda must be seeing her, skirt rucked up her thighs, her own nipples taut points against her thin bra and shirt. Lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes wild.
Reaching down at last, Lyda clasped Gen's hand and pulled her to her feet. Gen swayed, but Lyda steadied her, cupping her ass with a proprietary hand as she held onto the side of Gen's neck with the other.
"Breathe deep. Steady. Get it under control. It all belongs to your Mistress, so you're going to learn how to bottle it, uncap it when I say. Eventually, you'll come from a simple one-word command from my lips."
Gen believed it. She had one hand latched in Lyda's waistband, thumb frenetically stroking a small couple inches of skin above it. When she touched her navel, Gen dropped her gaze to that. It was beautiful, like all of Lyda. A delicate indentation she'd like to tease with her tongue, a precursor to moving down to a lower orifice. She swayed again.
"Breathe."
It was helping. Her body was still throbbing, but she didn't feel like whining like a puppy for a treat. Not quite as much.
Lyda pushed her down on the bench. "Legs spread. Assume that position you did on the chair out there, trying to distract me."
"I was trying to please you."
Lyda made a noncommittal sound. Turning away to her locker, she left Gen complying with the order as she pulled out a silver gray blouse and lacy black bra. She shimmied out of the shorts, revealing her
pert bottom in a black thong that eliminated panty lines beneath the tailored miniskirt she donned. Dropping a pair of shiny black pumps with silver trim on the floor, she slid her feet into them. No hose, but her legs didn't need them. The silver blouse's silky folds etched out her upper body.
"A little fancy for the nursery."
"I have a client meet this morning. He wants me to design the landscaping for the estate he's building. If I get it, it will be a big account."
"I can't imagine you not getting whatever you want."
