Almost
“Ready?” Jen asked cheerfully.
“About,” said Clara. “Did you want to tie these some specific way?” She held up the loose ends of the ribbons on her dress, loosely tied behind her neck for now.
“Mm, come over here.” Clara knelt in front of her, facing away from her, held her hair out of the way; Jen untied what she’d done and redid it. Now they wove around her neck and collar in a simple but decorative pattern. “Better,” Jen said, tracing the skin inside one of the shapes the ribbons created. “My turn.”
Clara turned and laced up the boots Jen wore dutifully. Jen smiled at her, pet her hair while she did, and gave the back of her head a slight nudge when she was done; Clara took the cue and pressed a light kiss to each of the boots and Jen again smiled, said, “You can do better than that.”
So she did. Took her time, mouthed at the leather and offered rapid flicks of her tongue, waited until Jen nudged her to move to the other one.
Jen pulled her back by the hair. “You like that?” She prodded at Clara’s knee with her foot until Clara shifted and opened her legs, let Jen prod her between them.
She whimpered; the firm, widespread pressure was almost painful but definitely finding her aroused. Her eyes flitted to the door; their friends would be here any minute…
“Answer me, Clara.”
“Yes, Mistress,” she admitted, squirming against the pressure and friction.
“Show me.” She pulled her into a slightly different position. “Come and hump my leg like a good little bitch.”
Clara hung her head and did as told, shifted to steady herself, rocked against her, and it just wasn’t quite enough—enough to make her want more and never for her to feel like she had gotten it; Jen shifted; she shifted; oh, that was it—
Wetness only increased her sensitivity, let her folds part enough she could get the most sensitive spots more direct stimulation; she cried out in pleasure and frustration and moved faster, just starting to feel tired from the motions and not caring.
“Look at me,” Jen growled, pulling her head back with a hand fisted in her hair, slapped her with the other one while she was held still. “That’s better, isn’t it? You like being where you belong? Acting like what you are? No more pretty little kisses, just showing me how much you’d rather be licking my boots and humping my leg than pretending to be a person?”
Clara whimpered.
“Answer me.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Shaky breath. "I—I like showing you… that I’d rather… do this.”
Jen laughed. “I thought so,” she said, fingertips at Clara’s throat, pressing enough to feel the effects, but barely. She, too, glanced at the door. “You’d like it if they got here now, wouldn’t you? Let them see you like this?”
“Please…”
“Please, what?”
“Please, Mistress, may I—may I come? Please?”
“You can beg better than that.”
“Please, fuck, I need it, please, Mistress—”
“Come.” The pressure from her fingers grew.
Clara did, crying out—Jen released her grip at her throat just before the orgasm started to fade; the rush of oxygen intensified the rest of it. She panted and laid her cheek against Jen’s thigh after; the orgasm had not been a particularly strong one, but release nonetheless. Settled, still nestled around Jen’s leg. “Thank you, Mistress.”
Jen laughed. “You’re very welcome.”
The doorbell rang. Lucky they rang the bell, maybe. “You should get that,” said Jen, kicking Clara off of her. “Too bad they didn’t get here a minute earlier.”