Don't Be Shy 16

As the movie started, Kara had herself some of the snacks Lena had made to be polite. She finished a glass of wine. Then, dignity took a backseat. With the movie playing, she comported herself like a teenage boy trying to get into his date’s pants.

She leaned against Lena and kissed her neck and ear. She rubbed Lena’s thighs, then went up under Lena’s sweater. Her mistress wore a plain white tee. No bra, as Kara was delighted to find. She rubbed Lena’s breasts through the cotton, each pass making Lena’s nipples harder and harder. Finally, Lena paused the film.

“If we’re not going to have anymore,” she gasped, “I really should put the food away.”

“I’m going to have some more,” Kara said. She wasn’t talking about the food.

She slid her hand down into Lena’s trousers.

“I owe you a come,” she told her mistress.

Lena was wet when she touched her. Almost sopping. Kara’s fingertips described spirals in the dampness of her labia. Lena squeaked. Stray hairs clung to her sweaty brow. Her eyes briefly stopped focusing. Kara kissed her cheek above the mask.

“If we leave the movie paused,” Lena mewled, “it’ll burn into the screen.”

“Then turn the TV off,” Kara replied. She was moving her hand slowly, warming Lena up with long strokes from the hood of her clit down as far between her legs as Kara could comfortably reach.

Each move made Lena shudder.

Kara licked her way to Lena’s ear—she stuck her tongue into it. A moan reverberated in Lena’s mask.

“We’ll be in the dark,” Lena said, her voice breathy with what Kara was doing to her. A confirmed cinephile, she’d made sure to draw the curtains and turn off all the lights before starting the movie.

“Don’t you want to be in the dark with me?” Kara breathed.

Lena seemed to growl deep in her throat, then switched the TV off.

The room wasn’t fully dark. Lights from kitchen appliances, clocks, the glow of a cell phone, all contributed to a kind of ambience. Kara could see Lena turn to face her. There was a dark glow to her eyes, a glint in their darkness.

“I hope you appreciate getting to touch me,” Lena said.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Kara kept her touch careful, gentle, stroking the tender skin of Lena’s inner thighs. Worshipfully touching her lips to Lena’s neck. She wouldn’t forget—couldn’t let herself forget—that she was the slave, bought and paid for, and Lena was her master. She’d be a good slave.

Sometimes, it made her feel so warm inside, being a good slave, that she thought she had a fever.

“You’re privileged to be allowed to get me off.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Kara parted her, entered her, curling her fingers like she did with herself… at least, she hoped she was pleasuring Lena the same way she herself liked to be. It was so different when it wasn’t her legs that her hand was between.

Lena’s cunt was wet enough to let her move effortlessly in and out, back and forth, but the roiling caresses that her walls returned made Kara want to linger. Hold her fingers inside of Lena and feel how Lena spasmed all around her touch.

“Thank me.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Kara took the wetness from inside of Lena and spread it over her clit. By now, the little pearl was out of its hood. Lena cooed, bird-like, as Kara rubbed her own damp on its lovely hardness.

“Don’t you love getting me off?”

“I love getting you off, Mistress.”

Lena sprawled back on the couch. “I’ll reward you for this later, Kara… if I feel like it… I might only make you beg a little…”

“I’ll beg as much as you want, Mistress.”

“Use your thumb on my clit… stroke your fingers inside of me… yes, yes… finish me off…”

Kara looked into Lena’s eyes—smoky and lust-filled—but couldn’t take it. She looked down into Lena’s lap and pulled her pants down. Oh God—she could see Lena’s cunt, wrapped around her fingers, the stingingly hard clit standing up, every little twitch and tremor that went through Lena’s beautifully naked loins.

“Is this how you do it to yourself?” Kara asked.

Lena flashed Kara such a look of irritation that Kara stopped. And then Lena retaliated, clapping her hands together next to Kara’s ear. The bright jolt of noise right in her ear made her jump.

“Don’t stop, you silly girl—”

“Sorry, Mistress… I only wanted to know… it turned me on, thinking that I’m touching you the way you want to be touched…”

“Just keep going, keep going,” Lena hissed, and Kara obediently touched Lena how she wanted to be touched, thumb applying pressure to her clit, fingers rolling along the top of her cleft, rubbing a friction into her folds that Kara could feel herself, an excitement, mounting and racing, pulsing faster and faster until there was nothing all that heat could possibly do but explode—

“Fuuuck,” Lena gasped, grabbing Kara’s wrist and forcing her to stop.

Kara felt like whimpering—it was so good, making Lena come. She wished she could keep going, but she knew it’d grown too intense, that Lena was too sensitive now.

“Shit. Oh shit,” Lena continued. “That was very good. My good, good girl.” She reached to the endtable and flicked on the lamp there. In the new light, she saw Kara raise shimmery fingers to her mouth and suck them clean. “Jesus.”

“Thank you for orgasming for me, Mistress.”

Lena nodded weakly. “Go… put the snacks in the refrigerator. And cork the bottle. Oh God. Do you like how I taste?”

“What do you think, Mistress?”

Lena’s eyes lit up a little. “I think I’m the best thing you’ve ever tasted. In fact, I bet that you can’t wait to taste me again.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“But you’re going to have to. Because I don’t get a lot of leisure time and I don’t have the energy to work you over the way I should, so we’re finishing the movie.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Kara said. She was surprised she didn’t need to fake the disappointment in her voice.

“But you were still a very good girl.”

Kara actually blushed as she put the cork into the bottle and returned it to the wine bucket. Then she smiled devilishly. She hid it by bending over to retrieve the charcuterie board.

“May I masturbate later, Mistress?”

She didn’t shock Lena. Her mistress only tilted her head to the side, as if she’d been entirely expecting Kara to ask that.

“You may… if that’s what you want your reward to be.”

“What else could it be, Mistress?”

“Put the goddamn food away already,” Lena said, a smile in her voice, and Kara dutifully carried the charcuterie board away.

***

It was a simple matter to get Gina out of the brothel with the drug making her so pliant. As much as I’m sure the Mob would like to have only one entrance, one exit to their bordello, the fire code is bigger than omerta.

I tuck Gina into the passenger seat of my car—I stole another Accord, not purposefully, it’s just a popular automobile—and take the burner phone from the ten in the glove compartment. I call 911, give them the number of the building I just left, and mention that there’s a dead body inside.

I don’t expect the cops to actually do anything, finding a black man with a two-dimensional skull in the middle of a house of ill repute, but it’ll make the mafiosi sweat a little to pretty up a decidedly ugly picture. And I have to make them sweat before I can make them bleed.

Gina has told me where he lives, what he’s into, everything I asked. I knew most of it already, but you hate to give someone truth serum and not get your money’s worth. I drive there, crushing the phone under my wheel as I pull out, practicing defensive driving all the way to Palisade Heights.

It’s a nice place. Being a Mob lawyer pays well. I park by the valet, toss him the keys—not like I’ll ever need them again—and go to help Gina out of the passenger seat. I’ve given her something to wake her up, another something to keep her thinking solidly in Sesame Street. The doorman recognizes her, of course, but not me. I tell him it’s a surprise gift from Mr. Violade.

He lets us through.

On the elevator ride, Gina seemed to come around some. A little more going on in her head than Bob the Builder. I wondered if I’d have to pop her, but she went back under with a laugh. The elevator stopped, we got off, and there was Walsh’s room.

I parked Gina in front of the peephole, slipped one shoulder strap down her arm, and then knocked on the door in as feminine a manner as I could manage. Then I flattened myself to the wall beside the door. In a moment, I heard the cover come off the peephole.

“Gina?” Walsh said from inside. I recognized the voice. Oh yes, I knew exactly what he sounded like. “What are you doing here?”

Gina giggled. “Uhh… I don’t know…?” She tittered again.

Walsh opened the door to step out for a closer look at her. I closed it again, on his shoulder. And with him pinned against the doorframe, I fed my elbow into his jaw a couple of times.

Gina laughed some more.