Chapter 15
fifteen
I’d like to say I didn’t lose my mind. That I didn’t fall headfirst into the madness. But life took a more than pleasant turn.
We still had things to do. A gentleman of high standing, Baz had letters and missives to answer and guests to receive. Gretel and I kept the Manor in order.
At night, we’d fall asleep together, hugging one another close.
We hadn’t gone any further than the night Gretel and I touched one another. A current of tension ran through us all, though, and it spilled over one day.
I found myself in the kitchen, hot and bothered thanks to the heat and the fact that I hated kneading bread. My hair kept falling into my face, not helping matters, when I heard them coming.
First, I saw Gretel, naked and crawling on her hands and knees. Her head bowed. Only her panties remained around her ankles, adding to her slow shuffle.
I never wore mine, but Gretel continued to wear the article of clothing for this particular reason.
Baz walked behind her, admiring her red backside. Already, I saw the outline of his erection, straining against his trousers.
“I just mopped the floor,” I grumbled.
“I’m sorry,” Gretel mumbled, head still bowed. “Baz says you must punish me.”
Baz smirked before placing a kiss on my neck. He leaned against the counter, not talking, but the small smile never left his lips.
“I’m working,” I told him. He pressed a kiss against my skin again. It wasn’t much of an apology for interrupting. But in a louder voice, I asked Gretel, “What have you done now?”
She sat back on her knees in the middle of the kitchen, a few feet away from us, as she waited for our orders.
“I couldn’t help it.” I struggled to hear her, she spoke so softly.
“Gretel?” I asked sharply.
She let out a sigh. “I had to touch myself.”
I arched a brow at her, not that she saw. She was remarkably docile now that she appeared in front of us.
“Your ass is already red. And your cunt is dripping onto my clean floors.” She squirmed at my words.
“Baz says you deserve to punish me too,” she said in that same quiet voice.
But I knew our filthy pet wanted it. She knew the consequences if Baz found her touching herself, and I was willing to bet she placed herself in a spot where he would find her.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“You’re sorry you got caught,” I retorted, still working on my bread. Baz tried to press a finger to the dough, and I shot him a warning. “And now your dripping pussy is ruining my clean floors, and I’ll be behind on my task, and then who risks getting in trouble?”
Baz played with the ends of my hair and feigned the air of an innocent man as he leaned against the counter.
“You’ve gotten us both in trouble,” I told Gretel.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured again, eyes cast down, hair falling into her face. What a fucking beautiful woman, her full tits on perfect display, her pink nipples hard.
“Sit up,” I ordered, wiping flour from my hands and walking to the center of the room. I made sure to keep away from her, though, so she knew she was on her own.
Gretel remained on her knees, but shifted so her ass was off the floor.
“Look up.”
Green eyes found me, a severe figure with my hands on my hips.
“Did you come?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“So you just played with yourself, pretending it was one of us with our fingers in your cunt. Or perhaps you thought about Baz’s cock filling you up.” I loved seeing the pink flush on her cheeks deepen. “Who were you thinking about?”
She shook her head, curls flying. “No, both of you,” she whined in that obnoxious, bratty voice. Her thighs quivered, her pussy begging for stimulation.
I let her. “Touch yourself.”
She hesitated, biting her lip.
I wasn’t setting a trap, though.
“Touch yourself like the dirty little whore you are,” I said. “Show me how good you are at making yourself come. Show us.”
Baz had remained relaxed, almost dismissively watching us as he leaned on the counter.
He thought he was clever sneaking bits of fruit to eat.
But his gaze cut to Gretel, who for a second sagged back onto her heels, before picking herself back up.
She knew by now that the consequences of not following orders led to far worse punishments than being told to touch herself.
Her palm splayed against her belly, eyes wide as she stared back at us. Slowly, she moved her hand, her fingers drifting over the patch of light colored hair on her pubic bone.
At our silence, lower she went. Her fingers skimmed her folds, and she bit the inside of her cheeks.
“I know you touch yourself. I don’t know why you’re being shy about it,” I said. I stood completely still, not about to let on about the growing wetness sticking to my own upper thighs. “Play with yourself, Gretel.”
She flushed further, her hips rocking back for a second before she stroked herself.
“Legs wider,” I ordered. “Let me see it.”
I wanted to bury myself in her pussy, but I settled for watching her.
She wiggled into position, her pussy on display, and I held an arm out to Baz. He wiped the flour off his hands and walked to me. My fingers curled around his wrist, pulling him into position behind me. His chest against my back, he pressed a kiss to my shoulder.
His hands wrapped around my waist, but I picked up one of his hands, and he knew what I wanted. I couldn’t command magic, but sometimes Baz would let me command him.
This was one of those times.
He released a stream of cool air. It curled through the air, snaking toward Gretel. I knew the moment it touched her pussy because she dropped her head forward, whimpering. It was hardly a feat of magic, but it was just enough to drive an already mad girl toward the edge.
Baz released another controlled breeze, but then I brought his hand back around my waist. I needed him as close to me as possible, and he obliged, his thick cock digging into my back.
“Touch yourself, Gretel,” I reminded.
She kept whimpering and never managed to pick her head back up. Her fingers played with her cunt, teasing her clit, rubbing furious circles.
“It’s okay,” I told her. “You can come. I know you need to, pet.”
Her lips parted, a strangled breath catching in her throat as her body tensed.
Baz tensed too when I used the nickname he always used. It became ours then and there. His muscles relaxed, and I felt the smile on his lips when he kissed my neck again. I liked this coy but clingy side of him.
Gretel’s chest heaved, her tits full and firm, as she nearly slumped over. But I wasn’t done with her yet.
“Such a good little whore,” I cooed. “Now do it again.”
Her shoulders sagged and she looked up, tired and overcome.
“Nasty girls touch themselves and you’ve been very nasty today haven’t you? You should’ve come to us and we would’ve helped. But now you’ve got to take care of it yourself and I know your greedy little cunt wants more. Touch yourself.”
With a deep breath, Gretel lifted herself on her knees and began touching herself again.
“Show me your fingers,” I demanded.
Red-faced, she lifted her hand, showing off the arousal coating her fingers.
“So fucking dirty,” I tutted.
She went back to rubbing her clit.
“Finger inside you,” I demanded, but my words caused her movements to stop. “Now.”
Wiggling on her knees, she tried to widen her stance even more and dragged her knuckle over her folds. Then she forced a finger inside her pussy.
Baz’s hands had started playing with my tits, kneading them over the fabric. Gretel fucking herself wasn’t just for her pleasure.
Fabric rustling, I pulled my dress around my waist. Gretel’s eyes darkened, her pupils widening. I wasn’t as sopping as Gretel, but I was pretty damn close. I grabbed Baz’s hands, moving them down my waist, silently telling him what I wanted. It wasn’t like he needed much direction.
He plunged two fingers into my cunt, and I nearly fell over.
Gretel’s hands worked faster, her hips pushing down, working herself on her own hand.
They spurred each other on.
Baz wasn’t delicate, and I didn’t want him to be. I wanted and needed to come.
Head thrown back on Baz’s shoulder, he held me upright. He added a finger to the noisy mess, his thumb circling my clit. My stomach tightened, and my pussy clenched around his fingers.
Gretel came at the same time, her mouth wide open, her hips rocking. A sob tore from her as she fell forward, her forehead against the cool floor.
“Good girl,” I praised sleepily. Baz continued to stroke me, claiming every little jolt of pleasure. “Gretel.”
The name made her lift her head.
“Come on, pet,” I said. She frowned and shook her head, wet tracks down her face.
Baz sighed against the crook of my neck and shoulder, his arms still tight against my waist. He pulled me impossibly close, rubbing himself against me.
“You wanted to touch yourself,” I reminded Gretel. She shook her head. “Don’t pretend to be a good girl now, pet. You’ve made a mess all over the floor. You’ll have to clean it up later.”
Her brow wrinkled.
“Yes, you know how,” I told her, swaying in Baz’s arms. “But right now you’re going to touch yourself again. You’re going to make yourself come again like the dirty whore you are.”
It’s one of my favorite memories. How red her cheeks were.
How her tits jiggled as she moved. Baz kept rocking his cock into my backside, and I don’t think I fully processed his pain.
I was too wrapped up in this scene. In calling the shots and saying nasty little things to Gretel, with her blonde curls shaking.
Hot, frustrated tears dripped down her cheeks. Her hands worked her cunt again. I squeezed Baz’s arms, unsure how none of us combusted that day.
She came for a third time with a strangled cry, falling forward.
And that’s when I noticed the stickiness seeping into the back of my dress.
I turned around, Gretel’s pants filling my ears, but otherwise static swept over my skin.
Baz, tortured and breathing heavily, stared at me. My eyes glanced down, and I realized what happened. My hand reached for him, but it hovered in the air. It was too late anyway.
He’d worked me up, but I’d left him entirely on his own.
At least that’s what I thought when I faced him.
He could’ve taken my hands and directed me to him or forced me to my knees.
I’d have willingly helped, but the truth was I felt more in control saying dirty things to Gretel.
A shyness lingered between us because he never pushed me, and I didn’t know how to step forward.
I remember swallowing and realizing how sweaty and tired I was. Baz knew it too. He ducked his head, stepping back. “Take care of her,” he said under his breath. It was an order to me, but he had one last demand of Gretel. Clearing his throat, he told her, “Underwear off.”
This whole time they’d remained around her ankles. She took the bunched fabric, depositing them in his outstretched hand. He pocketed them and then pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
And then lumbered out. I stood there watching his backside and thinking he’d remained entirely too clothed during our little event.
Slowly, I turned back and understood that I needed to close this out.
“Clean it up,” I said, my voice quieter, but firm.
Gretel stared down at the floor, at her arousal coating the recently polished stone floor. She sank down, lapping it up as I watched over her.
“Come on, pet,” I murmured and helped her up. Baz could easily carry her, but that wasn’t an option for me. I tried to prop her up as much as possible, and we shuffled to the stairs. “You think you can make it up?”
It’d been days since we’d slept in the little room under the stairs. Baz’s room was ours now.
Gretel murmured under her breath. Slowly and steadily, we climbed. When we got to the room, the bath had already been run, and the faint smell of lavender floated in the air.
I helped her into the tub, pulling her curls into a bun and letting the water splash on her.
“Join me,” she said sleepily.
I did, but I told myself sternly it was only because I also needed to clean off. I settled behind her, pulling her to me. She sank back, her head leaning into my chest.
“You punished me,” she said in that same soft tone.
I held back a snort. “I’m fairly certain you liked it.”
She settled back further, grabbing my arms, and something glowed in my chest.
But I did my due diligence, taking a washcloth and running it over her skin.
She jerked slightly when I rubbed her pussy, and I liked the whimper she made.
But I wasn’t horrible to her and let her sit back again and relax.
She’d need a nap, and I needed to get back to my chores, but I also couldn’t get up.
“Wystle,” she said after a while. “Why don’t you ever touch Baz?”
I stiffened behind her. She could be much more perceptive than people gave her credit for. Then I gave her credit for.
“You both touch me,” she said, eyes closed. “And you let me touch you. And I know you like Baz because you keep letting him put his fingers in your cunt.”
I bit back the urge to tell her to watch her mouth. That good girls didn’t say words like that.
The water rippled as she moved, her wide green eyes peering up at me.
“You like both of us don’t you?” she whispered.
I nodded, my heart beating. I couldn’t think of two people I liked more.
She bit her lip and cocked her head to the side as her brow wrinkled. “You’ve never touched a man have you.”
Gretel perked up, realizing she’d discovered the truth.
“Wystle,” she awed.
I knew Gretel knew much more about men. The image of her and Clinemell in their courtyard had haunted me for months.
Baz and I had something. A big, tangle of something between us. It’d grown to include Gretel, but the ugly truth was that I felt awkward and shy with her looking on. I could recognize it because I’d been like that most of my life. A wallflower of sorts, afraid to look stupid.
Gretel knew how to handle a man. I’d watched her for days, a jealous monster, when she’d recovered from her wounds.
And Baz had been with women.
Gretel sat back on her haunches, water dripping down her nipples. “It’s okay to be nervous.”
She sounded so sweet. But I bit my lower lip, not saying anything.
She leaned forward, her body pressing to mine. And with a glint of mischievousness, she asked, “What if I had a way to help?”