The Devil and the Sea Ch. 03

[Recap: Jen has taken on the challenge set by her new online Domme to keep Henry and Anya satisfied while denying any release for herself, whatever the tease and temptation that her partners can muster. Will she prove to Mistress X that she's worthy of being her sub, or will she crack under Anya's merciless edging?]

TORTURERS

I was late to the meeting, barrelling in with my laptop in hand while everyone else had already taken their seats. It's not that I was caught up with something else last-minute that had taken up my time; it was purely a case of getting distracted, which wasn't hard living with Jen and Anya. Anya's last message was burned in my brain, telling me just what she'd been able to get poor, tortured, denied Jen to do in the shower before work. Thinking about it even now was enough to start me stirring; not appropriate in a work environment. Inventing Mistress X with Anya and then using the fictitious Domme to put Jen into increasingly kinky denial scenarios was not conducive to productivity. Anya was probably sitting up there on level ten right now, staring across the floor at her wife, plotting further torture.

I set my laptop down, took a chair and froze. Smiling across the large meeting room table at me was Damian. The sight of him sent chills through me: why on earth was that sociopath in this meeting? Making an effort, I smiled back. After all, it had been my cum on Jen's lips when she'd kissed him goodnight at the awards gala. Remembering the shock on his face, my nerves settled and my smile grew wider. Yes, fuck you too.

I scanned around the room. Lily was talking, glorying in the attention as the implementation project lead of the accounting software that Damian's company had built. After all, this was how they'd won the award that night, the night that the predator in front of me had tried to steal Jen. He'd followed her behind the curtains at the back of the ballroom to make his move, but I'd been there and Jen had put on the kind of private show that, well, let's just say made me hope that the curtains were fireproof.

Damian's turn to speak came and he thanked us for our part in the initial phase and emphasised how much Starling was looking forward to engaging in phase two of the rollout. He was in his late thirties, tall, broad, dressed to impress in a suit even though we all wore smart-casual on this floor. He spoke smoothly and made good eye contact around the table, getting people on-side.

Then I looked over to Lily, noting the way she was definitely not dressed smart-casual. It was the way that she held herself while Damian spoke, her slim body straight in her smart dress, her long blonde hair tucked behind her ear, eyes never leaving him. Then she glanced at me, holding my attention for a moment before flicking back to Damian, making sure I was watching her watching him.

I had half a mind to warn her, but then I recalled the jibes she'd gotten in about my love life, the threesome sex romps she'd imagined went on between Jen, Anya and I on a nightly basis. She had no comprehension of the way it really worked between the three of us, living as two couples but sharing the same spouse. I was fully straight, Anya was strictly gay, and Jen was the glue in-between. Jen called her Lillith behind her back, and for good reason. Very rarely had I ever come across such a mix of stunning good looks, grace, sensual body, and demonic toxicity. Maybe she and Damian would be well-suited. Yes, perhaps I should just let destiny take its course.

Maybe that decision would turn out to be fateful.

---

Jen actually made it as far as Tuesday before she confessed.

I was sitting in the living room, contented, my balls drained. Anya and Jen were in her bedroom and I could hear the unmistakable high-pitched cooing as Anya approached her climax. I heard her cum loudly and then a period of silence followed by the low murmur of female voices. Jen had been faithful to her Mistress's instructions and had satisfied both Anya and I orally every day since Saturday, never once letting on to us the real reason why she was suddenly very obliging but why strangely always declined offers to be satisfied herself.

I heard rapid footsteps, and Anya came barrelling in, excitedly, her wispy summer dress fanning out as she walked. She did a victory lap in complete silence, miming the acceptance of applause from a fictitious audience. I heard other feet approach, and Anya swirled around to face the door, suddenly demure, arms folded behind her back.

Jen stepped through, dressed only in bra and panties, looking pained. I could still see a sheen of dampness across her glowing, reddened cheeks. At least Anya had let Jen keep her underwear on this time. Jen came to a halt in the middle of the floor.

"Tell him!" Anya exclaimed. "Tell him what you told me."

Jen looked from Anya to me and then back again. Her shoulders slumped.

"C'mon," Anya retorted, "Spit it out."

Jen eventually made eye contact with me.

"Uh," she began, "I, uh, I talked to Mistress X."

"Really?" I said, feigning surprise. "And what did she say to you?"

Jen didn't reply.

"Tell her about your assignment," Anya prodded.

Jen shrugged. She looked like she was beaten, and I suddenly felt sorry for her. Spending four days in her lovers' crotches with no chance of relief for herself would have taken its toll on anyone, let alone someone with a libido as high as Jen. After all, she had proven throughout our relationship that she was capable of keeping up her end of the arrangement even with the double demands of both Anya and myself.

Behind her, and out of Jen's line of sight, Anya was beaming with glee. Anya and I would need to talk later, I thought; there was a point where not enough was too much.

"She set me a task. If I can complete it, she'll consider taking me on."

"Wow," I replied. "I really didn't think you'd go through with it. You hadn't brought it up after Friday night, so I'd just assumed you'd dropped it."

I could see Anya itching to interject.

"What was the task?" I asked, quickly.

Jen shrugged, "You can probably guess. I'm supposed to give you oral once a day without complaint. Oh, and I'm not allowed to cum."

"Ah," I said, pretending to let the penny drop, "Well that explains the, uh, attentiveness. I thought you were doing it because you loved us."

"I do," Jen replied, and then looked pointedly over her shoulder at Anya, "Despite how hard you make it sometimes."

I got up from my seat and reached out to cradle the nape of her neck with my hand. I was going to be good cop, since Anya had so obviously elected to take the other role. I looked at her, sympathetically.

"How long for?" I asked.

Jen shrugged, and replied, "Until Friday night."

"That's ages away, babe."

"Tell me about it."

I drew her into my arms, momentarily irritated by the way Anya was still jigging in the background. I could see Jen was actually suffering.

"Why didn't you let us know?" I asked.

"Because I knew what the reaction would be," Jen replied. "Especially from her." She rolled her eyes in Anya's direction. I contemplated Jen's face, still slick from Anya's drying juices.

"Anya," I said, "Could you give us a moment?"

Anya's expression changed and I finally felt that she was beginning to get it. After a moment, she relented. "Sure," she said, and wandered off into the kitchen.

I sat Jen down on the couch and pulled her into my lap.

"It's really been a struggle for you, hasn't it?" I said.

Jen exhaled. "Yeah," she said, "It's been bloody murder."

I ran a finger through her tangled hair, watching her face closely as I said, "What exactly did she say?"

"She said I was to not touch myself for an entire week. If you touched me I was to ask you not to let me cum. And I was to offer to give oral every day, whether you requested it or not."

"And we haven't been turning your offers down," I replied. "Why on earth did you agree to this? It sounds like she was just fucking with you."

Jen rolled her head back and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. "I really don't know."

"You must really want this," I said.

"Yeah, I do."

I brought her head forward gently so I could meet her eyes.

"Then just remember that I'm here for you," I said, "We both are. We wouldn't have suggested this unless we thought that it was something that you'd really get a buzz from."

I kissed her.

"Just remember that there is a line between fantasy and reality, and the only one who can tell you to cross it is you."

"That sounds like a fortune cookie," Jen replied.

I laughed, seeing the familiar Jen reasserting herself. I cupped her dimpled cheek in my hand, feeling the warmth of her soft skin. Her hazel eyes met mine and my heart opened to her as I realised that deep inside this complex, intelligent woman, there were currents that I could barely fathom. I loved her, but there was something hidden within, something that I needed to bring into the light.

I kissed her again, deeper, aware of Anya's musk on her lips. I massaged the nape of her neck. My free hand slipped under the fabric of her panties to cup her slit. It was still moist from the session with Anya.

Jen looked startled. "What are you doing?" she said.

In answer I parted her pussy lips and slid my fingers into her, searching out that tender spot inside her that I knew would make her squirm. My finger entered her effortlessly and I began to tease the inside wall of pussy with a fingertip, watching Jen's expression change.

"The intention was clearly to ensure that you were frustrated." I said, matter-of-factly. My finger continued to stroke her g-spot and I felt her pussy begin to slicken more.

"Please don't," Jen said, eyes wide and pleading.

My thumb sought out her clit and began to rub gently against it. Jen's mouth framed into a little 'O' of surprise. I began to build up a steady rhythm, circling her clit with my thumb while I slid my fingers in and out of her pussy. She began to squirm in my lap, but my hand kept following her motion, inescapable.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered, breathing heavily now.

"Because you are meant to be teased. All this time, I've been letting you off," I looked at her with a serious expression. "Because you chose not to tell us what was really going on. We need to catch up."

My hand moved faster, and I felt a quiver in her pussy walls, the first tremor of her building climax.

"Please," she said, "Please stop."

"Sure," I replied, and increased my pace. She began to moan. I was aware that Anya was standing in the doorway watching, but my focus was on the woman writhing helplessly in my lap as she tried to pull away from my exploring hand. I knew what I was doing, I needed an answer to a question that had been forming in my head all week. Her pussy trembled again.

"You're so close now aren't you," I cooed into her ear. "I can feel you're ready to burst. Just a few more seconds."

I felt another tremor inside her as she fought to control herself, to stop herself tumbling over the edge into climax. Her face burned with the accumulated need of a week of ruthless edging. I could tell she needed desperately to cum, that in a few seconds I would bring my unwilling partner's gorgeous body to her peak, convulsing with her long-denied orgasm.

"I'm begging you," she said, eyes frantic now, "Please don't let me cum."

"Sure," I said again, my hand continuing to work her most sensitive areas. Her back began to arch and she screwed her eyes tightly shut. I wanted her to orgasm. I wanted this game to be over. I'd come to the realisation that I didn't like where it was going. A few more seconds.

"Stoplight!" she cried.

Shocked, I slid my hand out her panties abruptly. Jen had used her safeword: I couldn't continue. I scanned her face, and her expression was a mixture of deep lust and something else, something I couldn't identify initially. Then I realised it was anger. I had brought her to the very brink and she had fought back against me. She raised herself from my lap and pushed past Anya towards the bedroom.

Anya stood transfixed in the doorway, eyes wide, as we shared our surprise. I eventually broke the silence.

"She's deadly serious," I said at last.

I could see Anya was concerned now. I got up and walked out onto the balcony to get some air, my hand still slick with Jen's moisture. Somewhere, stirring on the edge of reason, I was struggling to identify something: a new pattern emerging; Pandora's box opening a crack.

[Author's note: If you like what you read, please feel free to leave a comment or a star rating. Constructive feedback is always welcome.]