TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 5
Miranda's hand sculpted around Andrea's front. She began to liberate the buttons of the younger woman's blouse, punctuating each release with kisses in random places on Andrea's neck, shoulders and points revealed. Not that she let those touches be mere lip contact. She nibbled, licked, applied suction...
The blouse was withdrawn over long, limber arms and then finally off. Miranda then worked the bra off. Years of practice disrobing models made her movement easy, expert. Fingertips encountered delicate pink, then sweet rose, as the younger woman's full, luscious breasts were freed from their bondage.
The older woman paused there, concentrated on the difference of texture and color and feel. She couldn't resist, had to know, and bent her head to mouth the puckered, aching surface of her lover's breasts. She laved the burgeoning tips, those urgent points, with her tongue and swirled the sense of color into her mouth. Groaned with how beautiful it felt, how it satiated some deep need she hadn't allowed herself to feel. It was honey and rainbows and very occupying. She could stay there forever, she thought, moving from breast to breast; Andrea's sweet moans a counterpoint that went straight to her loins, building a fine wet heat there.
It took Miranda a moment to recognize something odd about the experience, beyond even what she was sensing and knew was her own unique way of perceiving. She had been so lost in curling her tongue around the circle and peak, soaking up the taste. It wasn't until she realized she was literally curling her tongue...
She pulled back, breathless, slightly weirded, and stuck her tongue out. It waved at her, or rather, she waved it at herself, but...she could see it quite clearly. It was long and twined and wiggled and not at all as she remembered. It was new. That forced the older woman to pause in a true double-take.
"This," Miranda exclaimed sharply, "was not in the medical review." She sounded offended, perhaps was.
Andrea opened her eyes, which had been hazed closed with pleasure, and saw the consternation on her lover's face, which was shading quickly to the appalled. She had seconds, she realized, to act; to show. "It's okay, Miranda. Look." She extended her own tongue, which also was longer and more facile than any the other woman had seen. "It's normal for us. Normal."
"I...Andrea."
"No one thought to tell you, because it's so ubiquitous among us. It's one of those... It's like handed-ness. It just is. Consider why we are what we are. It makes sense. And it's... very useful."
"Useful! Am I to go about lifting my coffee cup with it then? Why would anyone..."
"Remember what a good time you were having before you noticed?"
Miranda paused. Then as if it were an experiment, rather than an act of pleasure, leaned in and snaked her tongue around her lover's hard, sweet nipples. She hissed erotically, despite being slightly peeved at yet another arbitrary change. Then she drew back once more, appreciating her lover's willingness to give her this moment. "I suppose more surprises are ahead. This would be a perk then?"
Andrea smiled and lifted her hand to cup Miranda's face, "I think so." Her fingertips caressed the other woman's cheek. "It gets better." Miranda arched a brow. "No. Really. It does. You'll see."
"I suppose I shall just choose to believe you, until such time as I do."
"That would be good, my Miranda."
"You're not going to start calling me Baby or something not... me...if we ..."
Andrea laughed. "No. Never Baby, as..." This time Andrea let her gaze traveled the full length of her lover with a great deal of admiration, "... you most certainly aren't. And, I can't see you as my pet. Though I do have them. Just so we're clear."
"Not even in question. I promise to care for them as my own, should you define that as one of my responsibilities." As if they were moving of their own volition, Miranda's hands unzipped Andrea's skirt, then began sliding it off. She finished what she was saying with a teasing twist to her lips, not even on the edge of disparaging, just rueful application. "...Mistress, mine."
The younger woman shimmied, eyes alight with amusement, wonder and desire. She leaned forward impulsively, was met with a mouth slightly open. Their tongues twined and slid, brushing together, dancing intimately. By the time the kiss was done, Andrea was fully disrobed and they were both making inarticulate cries of pleasure. Miranda shivered away, reluctant, but needing breath and space to consider her next need. "Perk indeed," she panted.
Miranda swiftly disrobed, not intending to keep Andrea from the privilege, but she wasn't aware of how fast she moved. It had not blessed her consciousness how very quick and strong she was now. She was distracted. Andrea helped her stay that way, pulling her back until they were pressed against each other again.
Skin.
Miranda literally shivered with delight at the full impact and imprint of Andrea's skin upon her own. "My god."
"Miranda?"
The woman's eyes were closed and she allowed her full length to brush up and away, before she opened them. "You feel..." She hissed through her teeth and straddled, without sitting on, the surprised Andrea. She lay her hands, palm and fingers out and drew them down, from shoulders to breasts to side, to belly, but not all the way down. Not yet. She lifted one of Andrea's arms and slid her palm along its length, until she was touching palm to palm. The pressure was firm, incredibly tactile. "Oh, Andrea. So... very..."
Andrea had seen desire before. She had seen want. She had seen people in the throes of their features, caught up in a driven passion. She had no words for what she was seeing now, only a sense of awe and mystery; of something nigh unto portentous and it was utterly sensual. Miranda's expression was so completely different from what Andrea knew. It wasn't sly or amused or placating or practiced. It wasn't gleeful. It wasn't mere joy. It was ecstatic, in an almost holy sense of the word. It was pristine in its beauty; breathtaking.
Andrea wondered if this were her expression now, what would orgasm look like? "Miranda?"
Miranda let Andrea's arm drop carefully, swooped in for a kiss that made the previous incarnations seem like small fires compared to a forest blaze. She knelt, hands and knees over the brunette, hummed into the kiss that slid from lips to jawline. "I can taste you," Miranda whispered, "Feel you." One hand slid across the young woman's supple body. "It's... do you you really want an explanation now, Andrea?"
The younger woman was lost in swirl of sensation. "What?" She opened her eyes to stare into blue eyes that blazed with awareness.
"You were asking what this was. I could feel you. Asking."
Andrea blinked, processed what Miranda was almost telling her, though she was severely compromised by the her concentration being on other, more important things. She decided. "Later. This now." She leaned up and grabbed a kiss from her lover. "That later. But I want to know. I need to know, Miranda. This is not a usual thing."
Miranda grimaced, "It never was."
Andrea accepted the comment in silence and surrendered to the heat that Miranda was stirring in her.
The older woman began her earnest exploration again, seemingly endlessly hungry for the connection. She moved slowly down Andrea's body, focusing attention on what seemed like every inch of her. Her breasts were teased again and then Miranda flowed downward, following the line of her abdomen. Her tongue circled the belly button, dipped and slid in teasing motion. She crawled back. Fingernails raked along Andrea's side and thighs, but it was punctuated by pauses where the pad of Miranda's fingertips would trace back up, following delicate, nearly invisible red lines in an exact path. It was as if she were making and following a map, creating one of Andrea's body.
Memorizing it.
Learning it.
Andrea arched and swayed and moved and Miranda absorbed that, reflected it in touches that were even more erotic. "What are you doing to me?"
"Loving you?" Miranda whispered against her skin. "Drinking you up." She slid her cheek along Andrea's belly, "Feeling you."
"I want to feel you, Miranda. I ache for you."
"Yes. And I for you, but... Andrea. It's so beautiful. You're so beautiful." Her lips touched just below Andrea's navel, flowed down and paused at the hint of brown curls
"What's this?" It wasn't really a question that needed an answer. Miranda knew. She had one of her own. She hadn't expected to see it on Andrea.
'This' consisted of a circular space at the top, with a line that broke through the center and went down. The line was actually a seam, a fold. The circular space looked like a tattoo, given the tiny marks that made up it's surface, but it was really a biological interface. The fold hid another "feature," one, which Jayden had told Miranda was a shockingly common addition for female slaves. That she had both, spoke to either an indecisive owner or one who intended to do many things to and with Miranda.
"Touch it," Andrea commanded softly. "Please. You won't hurt me."
Miranda looked up at brown eyes, then down at the mark. She touched it softly, two fingers stroking the indentation of the circle and seam. She followed the line down all the way, through brown curls and drew in another deep breath of pleasure. Her eyes closed, as she drifted there, just touching those curls, experiencing the soft wetness of them.
"The way you look..." Andrea said. "It's as if you're having a religious experience."
"Mmm." Miranda nodded. "Perhaps I am." She moved so she could focus, brought her lips over the circle and blew softly at it. Andrea's hips lifted and tempted the other woman too much. She kissed the bio-input, reverently, then drifted that kiss along the seam and down and down. She paused and licked her lips, tasting the wetness that was already there.
She pressed forward then, carefully spreading the tender spaces of Andrea's sex, revealing the rich color there. Miranda's teeth pressed into her own lower lip as she gazed, taking only a few moments to appreciate the fullness. Her lover was wet, and waiting and she had anticipated this moment in her dreams for a long time.
She drew her tongue along the silky walls and surrendered to that want, that need. She forgot where she was, the situation that had brought her here, everything except that she was tasting Andrea. Her tongue captured and rolled the hooded ruby, causing the brunette to arch and cry out. Her lips followed, kissing where she played, suckling. She entered her lover, drove her tongue in, felt the singing of deep, nearly purple reds, along its length. She let her tongue slide in and out and over inner hidden ridges. Her hands, of their own volition, moved, grasping Andrea's hips to drag her forward, closer, tightly to her.
The younger woman bucked, pushed against the tender assault. One hand wrapped in Miranda's hair, gripping it tightly. The older woman only felt it in the sense that it was Andrea's hand touching her. The pain it might have brought another was merely a delicious addition to the pleasurable sensations already bombarding her senses. She was lost in Andrea, ravishing her with her tongue and being thrilled to the core by all the feelings that rushed through her.
Andrea felt the spiral heat through her blood, lift her to where Miranda was taking her in a heady rush. Her chanted her lover's name, wrapped her legs around the other woman's back to lock her tightly where she needed her most.
It was everything and just one thing, and suddenly she was catapulted, literally screaming with orgasmic rapture.
Then it happened again.
And again.
Andrea rode wave after wave of bliss until she saw stars.
She wasn't sure how Miranda had known to stop. Certainly words were far past her ability to even begin to articulate. The older woman drew back gently, not out of the powerful hold where Andrea contained her, but just in the way she was touching. She softened the kisses, made soothing strokes, until the younger woman was able to release her grip.
Miranda's eyes were closed, as she slowly sipped where before she drank deeply, when Andrea finally opened her eyes.
Andrea strove to catch her breath, until she was finally able to utter. "Miranda." The word was a whisper. But it was enough.
The silver-haired woman opened her eyes to look at Andrea. The younger woman had expected a certain smugness in Miranda's gaze as she answered the call, but she couldn't find any. The other woman seemed to draw back from what she was doing very reluctantly. It was as if she could have done that forever.
The expression on her face changed what Andrea was going to say, changed everything in some ways. "Are you okay?"
Miranda blinked at her, eyes dark. Her hands still held Andrea at the hips. She looked down, licked her lips.
"No. Miranda. Stay. Here."
The other woman cocked her head, as if processing the words. Andrea didn't know if she should be glad she saw resistance or terrified. Instead, she opened her arms, in an embracing motion. "Please."
She didn't have to interpret. Miranda slid into her arms, melding her body to Andrea's, but leaning in for a kiss which caused shivers of aftershock to roll through the woman.
The brunette clasped Miranda's face, guiding the kiss away from the fire, but only barely.
It was enough though, so that when the kiss ended, there was a natural pause. Andrea drew a shaky hand through silver strands. "Miranda," she whispered. She wanted to ask, but couldn't even find the phrase for the question. She wasn't sure what she wanted to ask and whether it was even important.
She settled on what she knew how to do. "Tell me." She could have added the numbers, forced the issue, but she wanted this to be from lover to lover; an act of trust rather than pursuit. "If you can," she qualified, realizing that Miranda still looked somewhat gone; there, but not. She was with Andrea, yes. But...
Miranda forced herself to still her hands, to not lean in for more kisses, to push back from the taste and the pleasure that was everything that was Andrea. She broke the silence, at first with great effort, then it came easier. "I don't ... have words for it. I don't know if I can tell you what you want to know. It won't make sense, because the word exists, but doesn't frame what happens to me exactly right. Try... extrasensory perception. Make it, multisensory perception. Synesthesia. When I touch a fabric, I feel its color as well as its texture. When I touch you I am sensing you, not just color, but... more. I have always had this thing about me, but it seems to have been escalated by this newest rendition of me."
"Not empathy?"
"I don't know. I don't think so. I do not feel what others feel. Before you ask, neither can I hear others' thoughts. It is like my sense of touch is perceived on multiple levels." Miranda considered how to explain. "When my children were born, I didn't have to see them to know who was who. All I had to do was touch them, hold them in my arms, to know. I could find them in the dark, so even late at night I never had to disturb my husband." She smiled whimsically. "Even then, they were their own persons." Her expression became less amused. "I knew when my husband started having an affair, not because I smelled perfume on him or found a hanky with lipstick, or even that he acted differently. He felt different. I touched him and knew."
"Oh. Miranda."
"Water under the bridge." She smiled tightly. "When I read the Book. One of my steps is to run my fingers across the text and the photos, to see where things fit and if they don't fit right, I will either edit or delete."
"Secret weapon."
"Indeed."
"I don't like Irv, not because he's a bad man, though I think he is. I dislike him because when he took my hand on the first day of his assignment as chairman I knew his intentions towards the magazines had nothing to do with quality or even quantity."
"Just profit."
"Yes. An obvious characteristic, but still. I am sure if I touched him now, I would find him appalling. Of course, if I had bothered to 'reach out', maybe I wouldn't be in this predicament."
"How the hell did you end up with Stephen?"
"He did not always feel bad and a woman gets lonely. I did love him."
"I didn't mean it that way. I think I'm still upset he hurt you."
Miranda cupped Andrea's jaw and ran her thumb over the younger woman's lips. "You are addicting. Are you sure I can't..."
"You have a gift," Andrea redirected. She captured Miranda's palm and kissed it, listening to the soft gasp that followed with a pleasure of her own.
"But it has costs. I have my reasons for not wishing to touch just anyone and everyone."
"I... understand." And she did. More and more. "I may have to readjust your list."
Miranda smiled. "Leave Lisle and Jayden."
Andrea grinned. "Of course. But this requires some exploring and testing. And I want you with people who are good for you." She did not say the word safe, though that was on her mind. First because she loved Miranda and second, because she was hers and Andrea always took care of what was hers. She shuddered to think of the pain Miranda would have been in with her "original owners."
"Another medical visit, I take it."
"Not necessarily, but we should tell Addison. Unless it's in your files?"
"If so, it's buried quite deeply. No other physician of mine has ever mentioned knowing or shown understanding of what it might mean."
Andrea had a thought. "Do gloves help?"
"They... can buffer, but I still know what I know and summer is still hot. No point in them."
"And you like feeling the colors and the textures and the extra."
"Most days. Some days..." Miranda shook her head and slid off of Andrea, but kept one leg wrapped around her.
Andrea was suddenly aware of just how wet Miranda was, how lovely she smelled and felt a jolt of need of her own. Her eyes darkened and she felt the other woman still, like prey before a predator. "Miranda?"
"Yes."
"I'm having you for lunch."
"I can hardly wait."
Andrea's lips covered Miranda's in soft benediction.
When she pulled away, Miranda said, "Do you want to hear my trump card? I saved it just in case."
"What?"
"You said that you would."
Andrea laughed, her eyes sparkling, "I did say that, didn't I?"
"Yes."
This time it was Andrea's hands that danced along Miranda's skin, her lips that pressed and teased, her body that slid and braced around her lover's. She was amazed at the responses that simple contact brought about in Miranda. At first, her eyes had closed and her expression had become beatific; as if she were absorbing and receiving something wholly satisfying and distracting. The brunette realized that it must be so, but even then, all Andrea had to say was, "Miranda. Look at me."
Azure eyes had popped open, and the look had been filled with such want, that it made her mouth dry.
She wanted to try something. "Does this feel good?" She stroked her hand along the outer edge of her lover's body.
Miranda watched and inhaled deeply through her nose. She answered. "Yes."
Andrea dragged her nails down, pressing softly, then strongly, then softly again. "This?"
She hardly had to ask the question. Miranda had tilted into the touch. She also answered.
"Yes."
Andrea rested her hand against Miranda's hip, spread her palm and fingers out. Then lifted and applied a slap to the muscled portion there. It wasn't that Miranda rose to greet the force of it, but rather, when her hand slid across in a soothing motion, the other woman had vocalized. "This?"
"When you do it. It's your touch. I like... the way you feel Andrea. Did we not have this discussion?"
Ah. There she was. Andrea hadn't realized she even been worried. "Of course, darling. Does darling suit?"
"I am very rarely darling to anyone, but for you. Perhaps. It is better than slave." Miranda's eyes narrowed. "Also, I would prefer no pony-play. I am not ever a horse."
"On the one hand, I could make you, I'm pretty sure. And you'd be beautiful with the right kit and tail. On the other hand, how the hell do you know about pony-play?"
"Darling," Miranda sat up more fully, tilted, resting on her elbows. "One, I have been around longer than you have. Two, the Internet. My god, the things one sees there. Things that can not be unseen. Is our relationship to be one built on respect and trust or have I mis-read things terribly?"
"Miranda, you will never be a horse. I simply won't allow it." Andrea said sternly.
A blue gaze that had been sharply turning to ice thawed immediately. "Thank you. Mistress." Andrea felt warmed immediately.
"I want to flog you. Just so you are warned. Nothing too extreme, just yet. You may like it and we'll find out. But... I want to experiment with this aspect of you, so very much. To play with it and find out what colors and textures turn you on and off. I want tie you up in silk."
Miranda's lips twitched, "In Hermes scarves?"
Andrea grinned back fiercely and then, leaned forward and deliberately drew her tongue along the side of one of Miranda's breasts. The other woman hissed.
"May I make another request that is near a demand?"
"Yes, but I won't guarantee I'll honor it."
"No gags. No blindfolds. I will close my eyes if you tell me to. I will be silent if you tell me to. But please..."
"Even if the color feels good?"
"I discovered through my own period of experimentation, that gags trigger a panic reflex that I have never been able to overcome." Andrea's eyes widened and Miranda gave a small sharp nod. "Blindfolds. I've very recently become acquainted with them. I find...the idea of them distressing."
"That's a hell of an admission, Miranda. On the one one hand, theory says facing that which provoked trauma can be a positive. On the other, I understand the why. I will consider it. But I ask you to trust me. We will dispense with gags until we establish a point where revisitation of the topic makes sense. After all, it might not have been the gag, but the person who applied it or the circumstances. But I want the blindfold option. Need it. Can you find your way in the dark?"
"Most times."
"Then it wasn't the blindfold that had you scared. You were just off your game."
"Logic. Unfair tactic Andrea." Miranda was nearly smiling.
Andrea nipped at the soft mound of Miranda's breast without breaking skin. "I never claimed to be fair."
"But you are."
"I used to be. I can't always claim that any more."
Miranda cupped her lover's face with her hand. "Andrea." The affection in her tone slid into the younger woman like a piece of home.
"I've gone and distracted you. We can come back to negotiations later. I do want to hear about your experimental phase, though. It sounds like it was..." she waggled her brows, "exciting."
This time Miranda grinned. "Oh, it was."
Andrea kissed that smile into submission, blending it with her own grin, until they were both nearly delirious. She allowed Miranda to explore with her hands, but Andrea began her way back to her original chosen destination. She paused long enough to pay loving attention, mixed with teasing bites along the rounded surface of Miranda's breasts. She felt the pressure of the other woman's fingernails digging into her back and groaned.
"Spread your legs more, Miranda." Andrea's hands moved faster than her lips and one found what she sought, wet and slick and hot. Her fingers slid through moist folds, explored them and found what she sought. She caressed the tender jewel, smiled into the kisses she was layering on her lover's skin. Miranda pushed up.
Andrea checked. Miranda was still watching, still aware and at the same time hazed and lost to the sensations she was creating for her. She was tempted to small talk, just to tease her lover, but changed her mind. She'd save that for a day when Miranda was naughty. She'd find the best small-talker in her employ and stick the older woman with them for the day. She had to plan that, because she wasn't sure spanking would be effective any more as a deterrent.
She played lightly, pressing, rolling and caressing, before sliding her touch even further down. She pressed against the sensitive opening, pushing in slowly. "Do you want to close your eyes?"
"Sometimes."
"You can now, if you want."
"Thank you, Mistress."
Andrea shivered. She'd often been called Mistress, but very few made a gift of it. That Miranda should was so highly erotic. Unexpected.
She pushed in deeper, felt for the pleasure points, watched as her lover pushed back unabashedly. "We'll find the colors that make you happy here, Miranda. Toys that make you scream with pleasure." Like Miranda had made her scream...
She felt breathless with excitement, and leaned in to taste. "Mine," she whispered and she pulled out a little.
Miranda didn't quite whine, but there was a sound of loss, of potent need. "Please, Andrea."
The younger woman pressed in again and timed it to the stroke of her tongue. She felt Miranda digging in with her feet, toes into the bed. "Oh Yes. You do like this."
"Andrea."
The younger woman began her sweet assault in earnest, filling and tasting her lover. Now she didn't care if Miranda watched. She was lost in her own joy, in the heady rush. This was Miranda Priestly. She was hers! The realization sang through her, blessed her with tender ferocity. She drank her Miranda up. She filled her Miranda. She listened as her Miranda cried out with each thrust and felt a kind of rapture as her body responded so totally, so amazingly to her.
"Andrea. Andrea. Oh. Andy!" The woman's incantation switched names, blended them, called out her pleasure. It was a shock to hear the simplification of her name, but it thrilled the younger woman.
She felt the first hint, knew as if it were precognition, just the moment before. Miranda's technologically enhanced voice ceased to operate. The sound came directly from her mouth and was primal, wordless, utterly gorgeous. It shivered through Andrea, causing mini cascades of pleasure, that cycled with the massive one's that shook Miranda's world.
Andrea looked up, wanting to see what the other woman looked like in this state of ecstasy and she groaned with the fire of it. "Mine. You're mine, Miranda Priestly."
The other woman flexed, and came again, deeply and profoundly. A single word crackled, harsh and nearly atonal from all directions. "Yours."
Andrea brought her down, slowing her motions, touching very softly; though each touch brought new shivers, small ecstasies that rippled through her lover. She moved up, deliberately sliding her body along Miranda's and smiled as another heated cascade claimed the other woman. She came to rest on her side, drawing the other woman into embrace.
She kissed the side of Miranda's face. "Come back, sweetheart. Can you?"
The shiver that rolled through Miranda was only slightly different, an obvious rush of pleasure, but at the same time, when the other woman opened her eyes, she was looking. Seeing. Mostly returned to her lover.
Miranda lifted her hand, touching Andrea's face with only her fingertips. She gazed at her with wonder. "Andrea." Her name was a benediction, somehow echoing with emotion even from the speakers.
Brown eyes widened, not quite into a stare, but as another realization hit. "I'm never letting you go, Miranda."
The older woman's smile was slight, but her gaze was fire. "Good."
- TDWP -