Feast of Sparks

Chapter 5-2

I whimper helplessly into the floor, tension pulling tight in my stomach while my mind clears and then fills, clears and fills, like clouds chasing across the sky. For long seconds, there’s nothing but the satiating fill of his fingers, and then the thoughts will come—mostly thoughts like Auden Guest is fingering you; the pouty, rich boy you’re in love with is marking your cunt with his touch—and then he’ll spiral his hand this way or that way, or add another finger, or pull back to tease at my swollen clit, and the thoughts will disappear again. There’s only him and me and the authoritative tap of Rebecca’s toe on the floor as she watches her apprentice at work.

“Can you feel her tightening up?” she asks him. “Do you see how she’s quivering and starting to buck back against your hand—you can smack her for that, by the way—and do you see how deeply her cunt is flushing right now? She’s close to coming. Don’t let her.”

Let me, let me, let me, I silently beg, but I’m not so far gone as to make a rookie move like that. I keep my pleas in my throat where they belong—for now—and somehow manage not to burst into tears when Auden slides his fingers free right as I begin to crest up toward my climax. And then, without Rebecca saying anything, he touches a cunt-wet finger to my entrance and works his way inside.

A groan tears out of me, the feeling of his finger there, going deep, so deep, like nothing I’ve ever felt. I’m ashamed and scared and also helplessly aroused by the idea of being examined like this. Inspected for his use.

A cool hand sweeps over my ass, and then I hear Rebecca kneel down next to me. “Turn your head,” she says softly, and I do. I’m rewarded with a fond caress over my lower lip before she pushes into my mouth. “Suck,” she orders.

Once I’ve sucked her finger to her satisfaction, she moves behind me, and I only realize what she’s going to do as she’s doing it, as she’s pressing her finger inside me next to Auden’s.

I cry out, rolling my head against the floor, my hands dropping from behind my back to scrabble at the wood—which earns me a spank from Rebecca, who doesn’t miss a beat with her other hand as she works her finger inside me.

And then I have two fingers in my ass, deep and almost tickling, if elemental shocks to the nervous system can be called tickling.

“Feel how tight she is here?” Rebecca croons. I feel a brush of fingers, and I think she’s taken Auden’s other hand and is guiding it around my body again. “This ring, so snug, like it doesn’t want to let you go? Think of how it would feel cinching up and down your c**k, Guest. Think of how hot and soft it is here—” she wiggles the tip of her finger deep, deep in my ass, moving it enough that I feel every single twitch “—that would be around your head, like the plushest, silkiest prison. Just squeezing all slick and smooth and small around you until you can’t take it anymore, until you’re certain you’ll die with how good it feels, until you realize there’s no way you can survive unless you get to f**k this at least once a day.”

Auden makes a noise—a ragged, agonized noise. “Yes,” he whispers after a minute. After a long minute of them sharing my body, because in this moment, it’s theirs to share. “Yes, I feel it. Christ. f*****g Christ.”

“s**t,” Rebecca whispers back, sounding haunted by her own spell, sounding suddenly as taken by desire as the rest of us are, and then she murmurs, “Guest,” at the same moment Auden says, “Quartey” in that melodic husk of his, and then they kiss.

They kiss as they’re still owning my body with their touch, as I’m still bent over and exposed for their gratification. They kiss and I can feel the sturdy wool of Auden’s trousers and the soft cotton of Rebecca’s jumpsuit brush and press against the back of my thighs, and I don’t have to see them right now to know that they’re pressing their bodies together, that they’re seeking friction, seeking relief, and I can tell by the grunts and pants spilling out from between their kisses that they’re finding it.

Have they done this before?

Have they kissed before this moment?

Maybe in a fit of teenage experimentation, as best friends sometimes do, curious and then awkward? Or maybe late at night, some weekend in college, overworked and raw from the intellectual grind of being the best, the smartest, the most creative, did they look up from their books and see mouths shaped like respite? Hands shaped like comfort?

It should make me jealous, this. Jealous that they’re kissing now, jealous that they may have kissed before. And I am jealous, I think, but I’m also so turned on by their frank display of lust, so turned on by the knowledge that it was me, my body, my submission, that reduced both of them to this, that my jealousy is only part of what I feel. And most of what I feel can be summed up with one word.

Yearning.

“f**k, Bex,” Auden mutters, using his more familiar name for her. “I’m going to—I need to—”

“I know,” she says, “I know. Use your submissive.”

He uses his submissive. In an instant, I’m emptied of their touch and then hauled against Auden’s firm chest as he kneels in front of me. He crushes his mouth to mine, one strong arm banded across my back while his other hand drops to unfasten his trousers, and with an impatient yank, his c**k is freed and then ground into my naked belly.

I’ve seen Dominants take their pleasure every way imaginable—handjobs, blowjobs, f*****g, even m**********g over a sub’s striped and quivering body—but never have I seen a Dominant so undone, so desperate to come that grinding against a sub’s belly while devouring her mouth is the only cure for the madness.

Then again, I’ve never had a virgin Dom before, never had Auden Guest with his bitterly noble air and crooked smile . . . I’ve never been used and made to serve while my hand still ached from the thorns that had been used to bind me to the land the Guest family owns.

Auden’s kisses are hot, searching—as invasive and possessive as his fingers were—and he’s kissing me the way he kissed me last night by the fire as Delphine f****d me, like he wants to reach into my chest and cup my heart between his hands. Like he wants every single part of me to touch every single part of him, and that there’s no such thing as close enough. We’ll never get close enough until we’re crawling inside of each other, and even then there will be no squeeze too hard, no thrust too deep, no tears too scalding, because nothing will be enough until we’re twined tighter than the thorns around the chapel. So tight that God himself couldn’t pry us apart.

“Look up at me,” he whispers against my mouth. He bands one arm tight around my waist to keep me close. “I want to see those pretty eyes.”

I look up, mesmerized by the intensity I see in his gaze, the lust and the desperation and the vulnerability so raw that it’s almost like anger. His lips are parted, his cheeks flushed everywhere except around the small, barely-there scar under his eye. His hair has fallen over his forehead, messy and tousled, and every muscle in his jaw and neck and shoulders is tensed with something almost like pain.

His erection is scorching the skin of my belly, stiff and wet at the crown, and then he takes my chin in his hand, holding me just a breath away from his lips so that he can look at my face. With a shudder and quiet grunt, he spills against me, his organ giving hard, jerking throbs as it pulses his spend up to my ribs and against his thin shirt and into my navel and onto his opened trousers, making a mess of both of us.

We stay like this for a moment—his hand still cupping my jaw and his hazel eyes burning into mine—panting hard and both of us marked now with the hot proof of how much he needs this. I want to touch it—I want to touch him—because Auden’s come three times with me, and all three times he’s been clothed, it’s been separate from me. Kept from me, my dazed mind thinks. It belongs to me, and he’s kept it from me.

My sides heave with the effort it takes to stay still, to keep myself from mewling for his touch, for the orgasm I know I haven’t earned yet. But haven’t I pleased him? Haven’t I made him happy? Perhaps he won’t be so cruel as to deny me now—

But then he moves back and grates out, “Bex.”

While Auden was consuming me with kisses, she’s been peeling off her jumpsuit with her usual elegance, and now she’s only in her boots and panties, having gone braless under her jumpsuit. Her breasts, small and high, are tipped with dark n*****s currently pulled tight against the cool air.

She steps into Auden’s place. “Stay,” she says to me simply. And so I stay.

Her fingers wind through my hair, and while she’s steadier and calmer than Auden, she’s still more worked up than I’ve ever seen her—save for last night by the fire. From my position on my knees, I can see the quick expansions of her chest and the quiver of her belly, I can discern a faint tremble when she pulls my hair tight enough to make me gasp.

She guides my head to the warm apex of her thighs—which is a contrast of textures, of silky skin and rough lace—and presses my mouth to where she wants it without bothering to hook her panties to the side. I part my lips and lick at the lace with my tongue, getting only the barest tastes of her between the whorls and paisleys of the delicate fabric. I know the minute I touch her clit, because she stiffens against me, her hand in my hair tight enough to make my eyes water, and so I redouble my efforts to please her, tracing the stiffened bud until I’ve mapped her fully and then sealing my lips around her to suck on it.

It’s messy—the lace keeps me from sucking properly—and as it gets wetter from my mouth and her arousal, it chafes against us both. But she must like it, because she keeps me held fast against her, and I like it so much that I’m mindlessly squeezing my thighs together to mimic the pleasure I’m giving her. I’d like it even more if I could properly see to her, if I could have her p***y bare and open to me, but also the barrier between my mouth and her flesh is maddeningly enticing, an inflaming reminder of what I want more than anything in this minute and can’t have.

I lick and suck until she’s rolling her hips against my face, until she’s murmuring, “Good, Poe, that’s very good, that’s a very good girl,” and then she finally gives us what we both want, and she pulls the lace to one side.

“Make me come now,” she tells me, twisting the hand in my hair so that my eyes meet hers. “Make me come.”

I nod eagerly, pressing my lips to her exposed mound now, to the c******s so plump and full that it’s parted the lips it rests between. Her cunt is completely bare, and there’s nothing like the smoothness of it, nothing like the softness of her lower folds when I burrow in and kiss them. And then she parts her legs just that little bit more, just that extra so that I can tilt my face and tongue-stroke her where she’s the wettest and softest of all.