Risk Versus Reward Ch. 18

Desi ended up a victim of the wicked-looking strap-on that was parting her cheeks, though in truth she didn't look too broken up about it. I ended up sidled up on Desi's left side, still impaled on the mistress's hand -- don't ask me how we made the transition without breaking one or both of us, but we did -- and for every thrust Desi took in the backdoor, I took one in the front. Betty was cooing and stroking our backs with her free hand -- the one that wasn't currently rolling and twisting me into a frenzy.

I turned to gaze in my girlfriend's eyes as we both bounced around on that mattress for what seemed like hours. She had the faintest trace of a big stupid grin on her face that I found to be just absolutely fucking adorable, so I reached over to pull her in for a kiss.

"If this is dessert Desi," I teased. "What do you suppose is for dinner?"

"Shut up Karin. Gonna come." Desi scrunched up her face again while she shuddered and groaned in what was about her fourth orgasm today if my count was correct. I had just sailed through number three only a minute ago and I'm pretty sure she was one up on me.

"Shit Des, you look like you're going to die."

"Shut up Karin."

Mistress Nguyen employed her free hand to give us both a couple of sound smacks on our asses that echoed around the room. "Girls, behave or it's the crop for both of you," she said and laughed.

Desi and I just groaned. "Yes, Mistress."

The all-day fucking did indeed continue right up until dinnertime. Somebody's stomach gave out a loud growl that pretty well signaled the end of playtime. Personally I think it was Mistress Nguyen, but she denied it.

'I can go all day long girls,' was her only reply, and I believe that she could have and that Desi and I would have been bedridden, unable to walk for at least a week afterward. But thankfully for everyone involved, the all-day fucking finished up right around five o'clock at which time Betty encouraged us to stop lollygagging around and get cleaned up to help with dinner. I still don't know where that woman gets all her energy, but my working theory was that she's some kind of lesbian succubus who feeds off the sexual energy released when she impales her victims over and over and over.

* * *

"Noodle soup girls. Does that sound OK?"

We were all standing around the butcher-block island in that little farmhouse kitchen with Desi and me just donning our aprons. Betty was already lighting up the stove, so I assumed her question was more rhetorical than anything else.

"Mi Quang?" Desi's eyes lit up as she asked.

Betty nodded and turned her attention back to the stove.

I gave Desi a puzzled look.

"Oh it's good," she responded. "Such wonderful noodles, but so much more than that. Just wait 'til you try it."

So I waited. I waited for nearly forty minutes while I tried my best not to drool all over myself. The smells floating around in that kitchen were absolutely amazing, and the way Betty would wrap her arm around one or both of us girls while she explained the process of making the dish was enough to make me a little weak in the knees, and to make me take a serious second look at this woman I knew only as satan's P.E. teacher.

I understood perfectly well what Desi saw in Betty Nguyen now, because I was beginning to see it too. The gentleness in the way she shared herself and her heritage through the preparation of traditional meals, coupled with an absolute animalistic passion in the bedroom brought a balance to the day's activities that I could only describe as just perfect. But it got better. As the three of gathered around that kitchen island, sitting on simple stools and staring at the marvelous creation that Betty had placed before us -- the one we all had a hand in making -- she uttered something that I will never forget.

"Thương nhau múc bát chè xanh, Làm tô mì Quảng anh xơi cho cùng," Betty said as she poured the tea.

Desi translated for me. "To love is to fill a cup with green tea and enjoy together with a bowl of Mi Quang in each other's company."

"A traditional couplet from my homeland," was all that Betty said about it at the moment.

But later as we were cleaning up, Betty explained the significance of the simple rhyme. I discovered it was part of a courting ritual and a way for a young woman to express her interest in a potential suitor, by serving the traditional dish alongside green tea. I didn't understand it at first, but then it dawned on me. All of the time spent together in the kitchen while Desi and I fussed over the ingredients and Mistress Nguyen fussed over us -- all that time I think she was courting me, trying to win my heart and bring me into the fold of her little flock that up to now consisted of only Desi and herself.

After that discovery I felt a certain lightness of being, a surety that what was happening was right, something that I had not experienced since my earliest days at The Academy. Mistress Nguyen wanted me, just like she wanted my girlfriend, and it wasn't all just for all day fucking. And it certainly wasn't just for some crazed experiments designed to transform me into the perfect submissive. She had already found me worthy, and was now trying to prove herself to me. And I found the thought very flattering.

"Yes," I said. "I accept."

Desi looked a little confused at my sudden non-sequitor, but Betty was smiling. She knew. And that night when the three of us snuggled up in that king-sized bed in Betty's cozy farmhouse bedroom, I was sure I had made the right decision.

"Let's keep this little plan to ourselves until you girls graduate, OK?" Betty said. "I don't want Moreau getting wind of us striking out on our own before we're ready."

"Yes, Mistress." Desi and I smiled at our simultaneous response and I suspect we would have burst out with a rather obnoxious jinx! if we hadn't been so exhausted from the day's activities. As it was, we settled our heads on Betty's chest and let her lull us into dreamland running her fingers through our hair.