Devoutly to Be Wished

"But you choose," Bijou's light growl was right next to her ear again, a barely perceptible breath moving the hair on her neck. "I want to hear what you want. I could drag you off right now, I could just undress you right here and slide up against you, or, I don't know, just off the top of my head, I could go sit over there and just watch you take your clothes off, kinda slowly, like you would if you knew someone were watching you. Honestly, it would be really hot to see what it does to you, to make you wait a bit. But it's up to you – tell me which one sounds," she punctuated her last word with a distinct nibble, just a single light press of her teeth, on Sara's ear, "...good." Sara shuddered.

***

There was a long pause, while Sara gained her breath, and thought about what to say. It wasn't helping that Bijou's breath was warm and patient on her ear. Finally, she gulped, and whispered, very softly, "The last one."

Bijou moved even closer, pressing her body up against Sara, and kissed her very carefully, in what was clearly complete adoration.

"Which one, precious? Which choice exactly? I think I know what you mean, but honestly, it would make me so crazy to hear you say it, straight out. Which one do you truly want right now, more than anything, you exceptional creature? You just say what you want, and watch it happen."

"I....um..." said Sara, writhing back against Bijou. This was insane. It was already so over the top hot.

Bijou breathed in her ear again. "It would kinda send you, I think, to say it out loud, wouldn't it? I think it would. So what do you truly want, angel? Tell me." Bijou punctuated her words with a smooth, slow press of her hands against Sara's form, up her waist, to her arms.

"I want... to undress... to undress myself, to have you watch me..." Sara breathed it, hardly daring to whisper, overwhelmed by perfection. Bijou's hands had reached her wrists, and they wrapped, slowly and deliberately, those long thin fingers around her, holding her firmly. There was no arguing with that grip, only surrender, only losing control, giving in. Bijou, with suddenly stony power, held her wrists firmly just long enough to guide them behind her, as if she were bound. She moved Sara's arms and took both wrists into one of her hands, quietly demonstrating what she liked, what she wanted. This is me, being in charge of you.

Sara was breathless, already crazy with hunger, but strangely calm. She knew herself well enough to know that this was where she liked to go, but this was also a dangerous place with which to trust people. She couldn't afford to lose control with just anyone, and she was always so very close to losing control. What some people perceived as a cool reserve was the thin shell that covered her, kept her from surrendering to the wrong person, or in the wrong way. She was always so close to the edge, so constantly vulnerable to the right voice or the right set of touches. She had to keep her distance. But here, she knew somehow that she was in good hands. Not just good hands, but hands that adored her and respected her, hands that had the skill to take her where she truly wanted to go. Something told her that. Bijou was like her, a volcano, and she seemed to understand.

But she also knew that Bijou was intense, that she had edges, kinks, wild territory. She'd read Bijou's stories. Bijou could go anywhere, and Sara was a bit intimidated by the impressions she'd had of Bijou's wild streak. How much of her fiction was real?

She chose, at that moment, to trust. Completely. She felt safe, despite her unfamiliarity with this strange, sharp creature, because at the other end of her surrender was a knowledge, beyond doubt, that she was adored. Bijou's eyes were undisguised, and the affection that beamed from them was unmistakable, bright as a floodlight.

"Undress for me," breathed Bijou into her ear. "Nothing contrived. Just you, surrendering. While I watch."

Sara felt suddenly plain, and completely raw. She didn't have to decide anything; she couldn't do anything but hear the voice and move toward it, pursuing her own hunger to its endpoint. She began to undress. At first, she closed her eyes. Bijou had moved away, she wasn't sure where, but she did feel, suddenly, quite alone, and she let her mind move to those moments when, by herself, she had undressed, she had moved and danced and been seduced by her own images, her own thoughts.

She stripped her shirt over her head, glad to be rid of it. She found herself suddenly immensely impatient, bound by her clothes. Going slowly would have been contrived; if she'd truly been alone she'd have kicked off every stitch in moments, impatient to be rid of the constraint. And so she did – Bijou wanted her real, and dammit, she'd be real. It wouldn't be a sexy dance, or something from a movie. It would be a finally free, solitary woman who'd been bound into clothes all day when she'd have preferred to be naked, or at least close. Her clothes felt like handcuffs, like a straightjacket, and she needed them off, instantly.

She stopped thinking about the fact that she was undressing as a performance. She tore her clothes off as if they were soaked with poison, eager to get them away from her skin. She dropped them one by one on the floor where she stood, every bond she had. She kicked the skirt away and then unhooked (god, what ecstatic relief) the lacy bra that held her generous breasts like a vise. The latter she balled up and threw, with not a little rage, across the room.

When she got to the panties she stopped. They were hot, and she knew it. She'd always had a bit of a thing for sexy underwear, and knowing that Bijou had a major fetish for lingerie had raised her consciousness about it even further. This piece was one of her favorites. The thought arrived in her head, strangely sudden: Bijou would want me to leave these on.

Free now, her skin felt fresh and hungry, and she stretched, ran her hands up her sides to cup her breasts, and she kneaded her shoulders where the tension always sat, dragging her hands along the muscles, breathing deep. Free. And I know what Bijou is seeing right now, and I think I might even know how she feels about it. I think I might already know...

She opened her eyes, finally, and looked across the room, where Bijou had coiled herself back on the couch, her legs folded under her. She held a glass of wine, which was deep red against the background of her skin. Her face was blissful, amazed and amused all at once.

"O my god you are so fucking beautiful," she said in a measured, peaceful tone, her eyes never leaving Sara's form. "You just make me speechless. Jesus Christ you're hot. You're like, better than Christmas."

She uncoiled then, and stood up, moving toward where Sara stood, frozen. "And that was easily the finest striptease I've ever seen. It was real. And leaving these on," her hand now reached for the french-cut bikini Sara had worn, knowing it showcased her ass perfectly, not knowing why that was going to be important on this particular night, "leaving this on, which looks stunning, by the way, was a very nice touch."

"I thought you'd like it," breathed Sara, and found that what she said was true; that honestly, she had considered this entire scene quite early in the day, and though part of her had denied the possibility, another part had known, and had made plans.

"Oh, the word like doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about that," said Bijou, her hands running firmly all over Sara's form. There had been no preamble; she'd just walked over and begun to pet every inch of Sara's skin, watching her own hands as they traced the curves of Sara's body, up and down. As if she owned the place, thought Sara, and smiled inadvertently at the phrase.

"I take it you like what you see," said Sara, feeling sassy. "Or are you just studying Braille these days?" Bijou laughed, and gripped her a little harder. "Gods, you're a smartass. I love that about you. Alright, Ms. Mindreader, yes. I am a little overwhelmed at this moment. You have, and this may sound blunt and unromantic, but that's how I am, so that's how it comes out, one of the finest pairs of tits I've seen in a damn long time. God, those are spectacular." Bijou's own breasts were rather small, nicely rounded handfuls that fit with her rangy frame. Sara envied the fact that Bijou never had to wear a bra, but she knew that her own breasts were, in fact, the kind that everyone seemed to love. It was almost worth the trouble to have that automatic appeal.

Bijou continued, although her eyes – and for that matter her hands - were still fastened on Sara's cleavage, "I mean, the rest of it is unbelievable as well, which doesn't surprise me. But you'll pardon me if I focus on one thing at a time. Or two, as the case may be."

"I could get you something for the drool on your chin, if you like," retorted Sara, who was amazed at how sharply her mind was still working, given the fact that she was riding an insanely high edge of arousal, stoked by the fact that Bijou was now running her thumbs, and occasionally her tongue, over her nipples and up to the edges of her collarbone. It was hysterical, and yet even within the fog she felt her smartass inner voice, usually a hindrance in these situations, awake and amused. Whatever she felt like saying, it would be alright. It would be correct. There was no playacting necessary.

Bijou snorted. "Nice. You may have to. I'm pretty entranced right now. If I've gotten all stupid you have only yourself and this spectacular body to blame. You're just what I've always wanted. I must write to Santa tomorrow and thank him." She continued to mostly just stare at Sara's various body parts, running her hands up and down, gripping here, stroking there. Sara was nearly insane with the touch.

"So were you going to fuck me or just stand here and admire the paint job all night?" she said, and then couldn't believe it had actually fallen out of her mouth. She'd intended to lean a bit toward the submissive and respectful, knowing that it was a conventional dynamic with someone as toppy as Bijou. But Bijou cracked up, and as she moved in toward Sara she widened her stance so that she stood lower, and suddenly they were face to face.

Bijou slid both hands down to Sara's ass, cupping it lovingly. "Keep being a saucy bitch like that and see where it gets you," she said, "because I really like it when you mouth off. It's the first thing I ever loved about you."

"But," she continued, suddenly standing back and grabbing Sara's hand, "Don't think I can't still think straight, just barely, even with the onslaught of that immense hotness." She began walking toward the hallway, clearly heading for the bedroom and dragging Sara by the hand as if she were leading a fellow nine-year-old toward the Double Secret Treehouse. "Cause I've had some really cool ideas about you and I'll tell you all about them while I'm fucking your brains out, 'kay? C'mon."

Sara, her mind blown and a wide amazed grin emerging on her face, allowed herself to be led down the hall.

***

In the bedroom there was no preamble. The opera had faded in the next room and Bijou punched a button on the stereo in the bedroom. It was one of her mixes, with everything from Led Zeppelin to the Cure and Juno Reactor, all energetic and mostly instrumental. Then she turned immediately to Sara, and without warning shoved her backwards onto the bed. Sara fell, and then relaxed and laid back, giggling. Bijou's expression was terrifyingly mischievous. She moved toward the bed and knelt between Sara's spread legs, looking down. Without any warning, she grabbed the panties Sara still wore and yanked them down and off. "These are lovely. They are stellar. I may build a cathedral to them later. But they must go now," she said, and threw them over her shoulder before she sat back, looking Sara up and down.

"What does it like? How does it work, exactly? How do I wind it up and make it go?" she murmured, pretending that she was merely talking to herself. "And how on earth am I going to wrap it?" Sara didn't understand the last question, or perhaps she'd misheard, but it was too late to think about it anymore because Bijou had bent down and curled her forearms suddenly under Sara's thighs, lifting them up off the bed and spreading her open. Suddenly her thighs were clamped firmly in Bijou's grasp, and Bijou bent down and ran her tongue, with no warning, round Sara's clit, once, twice, and then stabbed deep against it, making Sara writhe. Being touched suddenly, without any preparation, made her realize that she was already just inches away from coming. It was agonizing, and then just as suddenly Bijou pulled away and watched Sara rise and fall, almost spasming in surprise at the quickness of the move.

"It is all I can do, just everything I can do right now," she murmured, releasing Sara's legs and laying them down gently onto the bed, "not to simply lean over you and devour you and take you straight over the edge, and myself as well. But you deserve my best attempt at self-control. And I did say I had some ideas. That is, if you like them." Sara lay, completely relaxed, feeling like a treasured pet, like a jewel being admired. Or, judging from Bijou's edgy grin, a meal about to be consumed.

"Your pussy looks incredibly sweet, and I really want to see more of it," she purred. "But if I touch you right now I may not keep my promise to myself, that I was going to take my sweet time and torture you like I've always wanted to. So how 'bout this idea," and her voice sounded completely sweet and reasonable even as her words lit little fires all over Sara, "How about you do it. Run your hands down, and stroke that lovely rose open, and show me a little more. Let me see your fingers, moving, and open that flower all up so I can learn all about you. What do you think, would you go there if I asked you to?"

But Sara was already doing it, hypnotized by the straightforward voice. Her hands roamed down her belly, rounded her hips, crept toward the center, and her mind strained and snapped as she found herself doing exactly that, shameless, drawing the lips of her pussy apart with her fingertips, letting one finger play around the divisions, flicker across her clitoris, making the pearl rise and harden.

"You wouldn't come, would you?" Bijou's voice hummed suddenly close to her ear. "Not without, like, letting me know before hand so I could stop you if I wanted to, right? Cause that's another of the ideas I had, and I wanted to run it by you, see what you think. No don't stop. Here, let me echo that. Let me learn that move," and she traced one of her own fingertips down Sara's torso to press in against her clitoris, stroking the little pearl round and round, then stopping suddenly when Sara's hips began to rise.

"Oh you are stellar, and juicy, and I want to put my mouth on you right now, right right now," said Bijou, "But I'm really concerned that I'd make you come if I did that at the moment, and I really want to see exactly what it does to you to make you wait. And wait." Sara moaned, writhing against her own hand. Bijou took her hand away then, and Sara whimpered in genuine hunger as her fingers were brought up to her own lips. They were moist and honey-scented, that familiar perfume.

Then she felt Bijou's hand slide down her hip, find the valley of her thigh, and move inexorably in, until there were fingertips sliding delicately between her lips and into her, so slowly as to be almost imperceptible, except that with every millimeter she was invaded, shocks ran through her entire body, subtle and white-hot.

"Completely relaxed," breathed Bijou into her ear. "Just breathing, just relaxing, just letting go, while I tell you my idea. Oh. Oh my god that's sweet," she added, almost plaintive, as her fingers slid smoothly in, deep and delicate, and explored, almost without motion, deep along the inner ridges of Sara's cunt, pressing the flesh inside, feeling the muscles flutter.

"I want to make you come so bad right now I can't even remember my own name," she growled softly. "More than anything, at the moment, I want that. But I have this idea, and I don't want to bias you," she moved her fingers, just a flutter against the soft upper wall of Sara's slick pussy, "by getting you into an altered state or anything. It wouldn't be fair." Bijou's soft voice stayed steady and hypnotic, overpowering Sara with words alone, with the steady purr in her ear. Sara was so close to the edge her thighs trembled, and she moaned.

"I'm thinking about offering you to Will as a sort of present. Like, all tied up in a bow," said Bijou, punctuated her sentences with more little flutters of her fingertips, pressing in, rocking her hand gently against the juicy gate, and pressing her teeth, gently but distinctly, round Sara's nipples. "I really think that might be easily the nicest present I've ever given him." At the sound of Will's name, and the memory that he had been the starting point of all of this, Sara gasped. She had wanted him for so long. For a moment the thickness inside her, now three of Bijou's long fingers beginning to slide slowly in and out, became his cock, thrusting in, and the idea alone made her entire body shudder.

Bijou recognized the response. "Oh yes," she purred, grinning, "we mustn't lose track of the fact that at some point, he's going to show up here. I certainly haven't forgotten that. And I'm thinking it's going to be relatively soon."

She began sliding her fingers deep, rhythmically in and out of Sara, fucking her, distinctly and firmly now, but watching carefully to make sure she didn't get too close. "Relaxing, precious. Just relaxing and breathing. Letting it roll over you. Oh those are lovely noises," and they were; Sara was keening now, moaning with every breath, hypnotized by the sensation of being split up the center by the insistent, maddening rhythm. Fingers. Cock. Whose. Everyone's. Just fuck, just fuck me. Forever. Just fuck me forever.

But suddenly it stopped, the fingers slid slowly out of her, and her whole body went wild, shuddering. She heard herself growl, genuinely frustrated. The ideas rolling randomly in her head crashed together and broke like waves. Her completely feral need to come. The hypnosis in Bijou's voice, and how much she wanted roll over and slam everything she had into this maddening woman, and the sheer, soul-deep panic, off in the distance, of the idea of Will's arrival. It was too late for any control over the situation, and she surrendered, finding herself suddenly, surprisingly, amused. She was in it, and there was no turning back, and this was what she'd wanted all along anyway. Will. And bijou, this maddening, hypnotic catalyst, taking her over, every inch of her.

***

Bijou realized that she had had Sara on the edge for ages, and while she truly wanted to offer this armful of roses to Will in the heightened state it was in, she also knew that making a delicately wired creature like this stay on the edge too long would be cruel, and counterproductive. Sara was truly desperate now, whimpering plaintively, her pussy undoubtedly throbbing and hungry beyond rational thought. She needed to be spread.

Spreading was something she'd tried before, but she wondered if it would work on someone as close to orgasm as this, and on Sara, given how much of a hair trigger she had. But it was worth a try.

"Come down, baby," Bijou crooned, almost maternal. "Come back down a bit, and breathe. Think about the top of your head. Think about your heart." She began the acupressure, the smoothing of her hand upward over Sara's torso, spreading the heat down along her legs to her feet, firmly so that her touch was more healing than sexual. Then up, up the center of her torso, up to her scalp, which bijou massaged gently, releasing the snakes that had gathered and coiled there. It seemed to be working. Sara sighed and seemed to relax. The tension went out of her hips and her hands released the bedspread, which they had been clutching tightly. Bijou knew she was feeling the arousal more generally now, all over her body, and that the congestion of both blood and energy that had centered around her hips and pussy was spreading through her body.