The Price of Hannah Blake (15 page)

She lifted her slender hands and cupped her breasts, almost dry, now, looking down at them. She said, “They can just devour every bit of you, you know.”

“Well,” said Hannah, laughing, “I swam about four strokes, which is about my limit, and I almost drowned. I don’t think I’m going anywhere.”

“Don’t talk about it!” said Lilly vehemently, turning to her. “And don’t say a word about this or I swear, I’ll kill you! Do you know what they would do to Rachael?”

Hannah took Lilly’s arm, gazing into her pretty face. “Never,” she breathed. “And what would they do to
me
if I even talked about this?”

“Well, that’s true,” said Lilly slowly, and Hannah thought, “She loves so easily. She’s a friend. Timid, but you need real friends.”

“Let’s get out and dry,” said Rachael abruptly. “There’s the softest grass, over here,” Rachael called, as they were following her. It was almost at the woods, on rising ground, and here grass seemed able to grow. Rachael stretched out on her back, sighing, and they settling on either side.

Hannah thought she hadn’t been so relaxed, almost contented, since the rough hands of the horsemen seized her on the high road in Devon. She felt scrubbed, like a baby; she had rarely bathed her whole body at once, and the white sand, the salt, and the washing of the waves on the shore made everything seem so clean. She wiggled her toes in the sun. She thought: Watch out, Hannah! Are you liking this? How quickly she had become part of it! A prisoner forever, at the mercy of brutes, a woman in a beautiful brothel that was a life sentence. This is what Lilly had done, she thought: seized happiness, normality, even here. But not Rachael.

She must have slept. As her eyes opened, she heard Lilly make a sound in her throat. A soft moan? She turned her head, not moving. Rachael’s long, dark body straddled Lilly’s white one. Lilly’s eyes were shut, her lips parted, and Rachael’s face was bent over her belly. Her tongue keep flicking out, licking it. Salt! The licking was unhurried, catlike; Hannah could see that Lilly’s titties were still shiny, wet, from the tongue.

Then, Rachael glanced at her and Hannah stiffened, guilty for watching, but Rachael only said, softly, “You slept a little, sweetie. You needed it.”

“Yes,” sighed Hannah, and let her eyes close. It was all the privacy she could give them.

“The first few weeks are brutal,” said Rachael. Hannah opened her eyes, nodded. The lean brown face bent again and the long tongue was tracing the arc of Lilly’s hip bone. Then it found the little belly button and darted in and out. Lilly’s hips shifted as though restlessly; her breasts rose and fell. Her pretty face seemed drawn, her mouth open. Hannah knew what she was feeling, knew from her own body’s desperate attempts, just yesterday, to find where that feeling led.

Rachael said, “You don’t have to close your eyes. You can watch, if you want. You don’t have to do anything.” She added, softly, “The hell’s over—for now—you know.”

Hannah let her head turn. Rachael’s tongue was making its leisurely way lower, toward the fluffy, light hair, now, and Lilly was squirming her buttocks in the grass, heaving up her belly, arching her back so her breasts thrust. Rachael’s lips groomed Lilly’s hair, drawing tufts between her lips, drying it.

Lilly’s hand came up to cover her nipples and then her thumb and forefinger stretched them. They began to crinkle into pink buds. She flicked them back and forth. Hannah watched, fascinated; she had never watched anything done to a another woman—or even dreamed she would. Lilly’s quick fingers kept pestering the tits, squashing them, rolling them, flicking them with a fingernail. She was breathing harder.

Hannah glanced down and started. Rachael had shoved Lilly’s milky thighs apart with her hands and her face was buried in Lilly’s furrow. Now, Lilly’s own hands took her knees, too, pulling them farther apart, as if she must be opened wider. Hannah stared; she wished she could see exactly what Rachael was doing. She sensed the arousal of yesterday and the day before creeping back; she moved her hand. Yes, her nipples stood up, now; she could feel wetness between her legs. She had to see more!

She pushed herself up on an elbow, then to a sitting position. She turned her body to watch. Rachael’s long brown arm was stretched far back, hand between her own legs, and she was whimpering, too. But Hannah couldn’t see what she was doing, either.

Rachael began to say things. Some words were words no woman should say or even know. And Lilly was saying excited, breathless things, over and over. “Yes! Yes!” And then, “Oh stop!” And suddenly her hips heaved, mashing into Rachael’s face, and she actually shrieked, and her fingers twisted her little tits so hard Hannah thought she must be trying to rip them from her body. As much as Lilly’s hips squirmed and heaved, then tried to turn, turn away, Rachael’s mouth pursued her pussy. Lilly began to sob; she hands came down on Rachael’s head and shoved, and she cried, “No! No!”

Hannah couldn’t believe what was happening, but, in a strange sense, she knew—because that was where she had been going, tormented by Charles, then the girls. She had been seeking a place where she knew she would lose control, be taken over by her body, say anything and do anything. Lilly yelled in protest and her strong thighs clapped shut on either side of Rachael’s head, and she wailed, “God, no! Please, Rach! Please!” But she could not dislodge Rachael’s face. Lilly’s face seemed to be in agony. Hannah rose to her knees, alarmed, and put her hand on Rachael’s back; she said, “Rachael, Rachael!”

Then, Rachael abruptly rolled onto her back, her long legs wrenched impossibly wide, and her slim dark fingers were moving around and around, frantically, and she was crying out, too, but softly, whimpering. Her other hand had seized her breast and was pulling at it brutally, the breasts and nipple stretched into a long, thin cone. “Jesus!” she wailed. “Jesus, no!” and flung herself back on her stomach, gasping.

Hannah just stared. This is what they had teased her with, teased her and then tormented her—almost tortured her because they did not let her have it. She was blinking back tears; it was frustration, frustration for now, yesterday, last night in Charles’s bed. Yet, she felt so excited. She glimpsed her own nipples, rigid, yearning. Her hands slipped down, between; it was as though she oozed oil. She let herself fall back, fighting an awful restlessness. It was maddening; she bit her lips.

She glanced over. Rachael still lay face down, hand thrust between her thighs, not moving. Lilly’s eyes were open; they met Hannah’s and Lilly smiled. It seemed to convey all the contentment in the world. Hannah looked away quickly, squinting up at the light blue summer sky.

Lilly was rolling to her knees; she sat up, buttocks pressing into her heels, gazing at Hannah. Her face, always soft, now seemed dreamy, watching Hannah through eyes half closed. Hannah glanced at her, smiled, and quickly looked away. She felt Lilly looking at her. She resisted looking back, for a moment, then had to turn her head. Yes, Lilly was still gazing at her, face radiant. The still-wet, ropy hair around her face make her look like a happy little girl. But Hannah saw that, again, each compact breast was crowned with an unabashedly rigid pink nipple.

Lilly leaned forward, but slowly, giving Hannah time to react. She brought her face closer. For a moment, Hannah froze as though circled by a bee. Lilly lowered her torso over Hannah’s and let her little tits rest on Hannah’s breasts; she moved her body and Hannah felt the nipples tracing lines on her skin, tickling her. Lilly moved very slowly. She shifted her position and rested her cheek on Hannah’s breast; the cheek felt so downy.

“Do you mind this?” Lilly asked, her cheeks moving on Hannah’s nipple, not looking at her. Hannah closed her eyes. “Not really. I don’t really mind.”

Lilly lifted her face and smiled at Hannah, but Hannah’s eyes were still closed. Lilly’s shadow fell over Hannah’s face, and Lilly said, “Like little pink candies.” Hannah blushed. “They are!” Lilly insisted. Lilly turned her head and called, “Rachael, would you like one of Hannah’s little pink candies?”

“Oh, I’d love one,” said Rachael’s voice. Then each of Hannah’s nipples sent a thrill toward her belly. She moaned. Their lips had taken the nipples, enclosing each one. It made Hannah moan softly, again. How had she become so excited? “Wow!” said Rachael, “she was already one hot bitch!”

“No,” protested Hannah; she was sure her face was bright red. Their mouths sucked in more of Hannah’s breasts, as though they thought and acted together. Hannah couldn’t be still, squirming her buttocks in the sand, heaving her hips. She opened her eyes to look at Rachael’s pendulous brown breasts swaying over her, Lilly’s little breasts firm, separated. She reached up and began to play with both women. “Oh, God!” whispered Rachael.

Teeth closed on Hannah’s tit and shook it so Hannah shivered. She did not realize her mouth was open until she felt a tongue slip into it; she jerked aside because it tickled. Then she let her lips relax, open, and the long kiss began.

“Hurt my tit,” said Lilly.

“What?” asked Hannah.

“Hurt my tit. Hurt it.”

Hannah pinched the hard flesh between two fingers. “More,” murmured Lilly. Hannah’s fingers dragged on the rubbery nipple, stretching it. “Hurt me more, Hannah. Please!”

“I don’t know what to do, Lilly…”

“Twist it as hard as your fingers can. Try to twist it off, Hannah.”

“Oh!” gasped Lilly. “Yes! Oh, God, God!” Hannah must have been stronger than she knew. Lilly’s hand flew up to cover Hannah’s, pulling it away. “Oh, I’m sorry!” said Hannah.

Lilly said, “Just for that, I’m going to suck your clit till you scream!” Then, she murmured, “now milk me, Hannah.” Hannah
did
know about milking. She reached underneath Lilly’s body, finding the breast, again, and began a rolling, squeezing motion, letting her closed hand knead the flesh downward till she was dragging the nipple itself. The breast was small and hard, resisting. With her other hand, she reached beneath Rachael and took the bigger, softer, pendulous breast. It worked better. Both girls were squirming their chests in response: Hannah could excite them, just touching! Not like with Charles.

But she couldn’t concentrate; her own body wouldn’t stop squirming. They were sucking her breasts, but lower, her belly, she felt as though afflicted by an unbearable restlessness. She had to be touched! She couldn’t say that. She squirmed her strong hips, raised her belly so high it could have pressed into the girls, if they had not been to either side of her.

She gave a start; hands had closed around her calves and heaved up her legs, pushing them up, back, apart, until the knees were pressed on her chest. She was open—spread to reveal everything all the way up her furrow. It felt shockingly vulnerable! She strained to close herself, but the two girls held her legs easily. She had a sudden image of her body, there, even the hair parted, all the secret, private, not-to-be-imagined wet flesh revealed! “No!” she protested. “Not like this!”

But the effort to close her thighs had died. All she could do was breathe, breathe hard. When she opened her eyes, just once, she glimpsed the back of Rachael’s head, the shiny black hair, filling her “V” down there. Then, she cried aloud and her body jerked.

“No!” she gasped. Or perhaps she whispered it. Or just thought it. Rachael’s tongue did not stop.

She struggled away. Or perhaps just lifted her loins, pushing upward. The tongue had arrived at a place and begun to circle, circle softly, and each trip plucked some tighter string in her belly until the notes were shrill. She couldn’t have imagined it even at the height of the teasing that had made her feel that her mind would snap. The tongue had found one spot, now, and would not let it alone. Hannah’s hands were moving, but she couldn’t concentrate on what to do with them; they kept jumping from her nipples to her face, covering it, and to the head pressed into her furrow.

What if it stopped? As it had before? She heard Lilly ask, close to her ear, so close the breath tickled her: “What did you say, puss?”

She had not realized she had spoken aloud. Now, she tried to say it again. But the sensations were seizing her; she felt her loins thrashing. What had she said? What?

She screamed it. “Don’t stop!”

Lilly giggled near her ear. “Not this time, puss.”

“Tell her…” murmured Hannah. “Tell her…” And then, she closed her eyes and gave it up. She had been gripping something at the edge of an unknown, bottomless place—a place where she might vanish. But she could hold on no longer, couldn’t, didn’t want to, wanted to let…

Her body stiffened, right to her toes, and she knew she couldn’t stand it and please, please wanted it not to stop. It had to stop! She fought to close her thighs to save herself; she couldn’t. She started to scream, but Lilly’s hand clapped over her mouth. Lilly’s other hand was taking revenge on Hannah’s pink nipples, screwing them around, but Hannah barely noticed. The thrills that shot into her belly, over and over, made her sob, and the sobbing became alarmed. “Stop, now!” But Lilly’s hand was over her mouth.

Hannah’s body twitched as though bitten by flies. She knew she would faint. And then it stopped, almost, moved away from the tormenting spot as the tongue pressed and soothed other flesh. The relaxation felt like a collapse through her whole body. She still panted, but more easily.

Lilly was pressing her cheek to the ravaged tits. “Did I kill you, puss?” Hannah didn’t want to talk or admit anything into that place in her mind where nothing could be wrong or bad or hurt her. She shook her head slightly, eyes closed. “Poor pink candies,” whispered Lilly.