DITW 14-20: Odyssey 15

Once Devlin parted Amy’s legs, Kimmy swatted Amy’s bottom again. Amy flinched and squealed with delight. Kimmy said, “The way you enjoy this tells me everything I need to know.”

Amy said, “You don’t need to interrogate me?”

Devlin watched the show, his hands on Amy’s ankles, pinning them to the bed, an aroused and desperate look in his eyes. Sexual hunger emanated from him like a dynamo’s hum.

Kimmy put a knee on the bed and looked between Amy’s parted thighs. The sight was strange and lurid; Amy, a girl she only knew as a friend, now privy to her privatest place, the place where she was pink and sensitive. And wet. Shining wet. She doubled the circle of Devlin’s belt into a shorter switch and batted the leather against the wetness. Each little smack produced a sticky wet crackle, and Amy’s hips humped the bed in rhythm with Kimmy’s leather-pecking. “Why would I give you what you want if I sought to punish you?” She stopped swatting and now slid the oiled leather up and down Amy’s pussy. Amy’s hips gyrated.

“Because I done you wrong,” Amy sighed, using the vernacular of the American South, twinged with the fake English accent she used since moving to London.

Kimmy began to beat Amy’s pussy again with the leather, and each time she did, Amy uttered a soft gasp. “And how did you do me wrong?”

Amy showed a sultry look over her shoulder despite the sleeping mask’s coverage, her hips grinding into the mattress, eager for the leather smacks on her sopping wet pussy. “Kimmy, I’m just a merry prankster. I didn’t mean any harm.”

Now Kimmy regarded Devlin, whose eyes burned holes into where she smacked Amy with his belt. “I bet you’re hard right now.”

Devlin chuckled, his eyes flicking up to hers. “Kimmy, I’m hard as steel right now.”

Kimmy brought the belt down in a wicked smack on the inside of Amy’s thigh. The snap of leather on flesh was as bright as a bulb, and Amy cried out in surprise and pain. Even Devlin flinched.

Kimmy said, “Why am I the Grand Inquisitor when you both think I’m as guilty as you are?”

Devlin chuckled. “You see it, don’t you? This isn’t punishment. This is reward.”

“We’re all three wicked,” Kimmy said. “Aren’t we?”

“As wicked as they come,” Amy said.

Kimmy tapped the leather belt on the back of Amy’s thigh, the trembling one she’d already smacked with the belt. “But some of us are wickeder than others, wouldn’t you agree?”

Amy’s body tightened, expecting another extreme whip of Devlin’s belt.

Kimmy said, “Is this what it’s like on the other side?”

Devlin said, “The other side of what?”

“This is the side of sin and heresy. Of sodomy and moral offense.”

“Sounds delightful,” Amy crooned. “Are you selling time shares there?”

Kimmy chuckled and smacked the inside of Amy’s thigh where a pink mark had already risen. Amy cried out in laughing anguish. Kimmy said, “You can free your hands, Amy.”

Amy looked over her shoulder again, rakish eyebrow at a sly angle above the sleeping mask. Kimmy lightly smacked Amy’s bare bottom, smiling. Amy laughed, then worked her hand around in circles, loosening the bind of the tied cloth on her wrist. Her hand came free, and she used it to pry off the other binding.

Kimmy swatted Amy’s bare ass much harder this time. “Punishment isn’t theater,” she said. “Don’t make a farce of it.”

Devlin chuckled but didn’t let go of Amy’s ankles, still pinning them to the bed, shoulder width apart.

Kimmy regarded him. “You brought me here for this.”

“This is what you want,” he said.

“Retribution,” she said and laughed. “You think this belt and I”—she snapped the leather in his direction—“can make right all the wrongs against me?”

Devlin said, “Who did you wrong, Kimmy?”

Kimmy brought the belt down on Amy’s bare ass with a massive crack. Amy jumped and scooted away, rubbing her ass cheeks. “Ow, what the hell, Kimmy?”

Kimmy pointed the leather at Devlin. “Don’t you think he’s the one who should be punished?”

Amy crawled up to the pillows, still consoling her pink buttocks, smiling, head angling toward Devlin. “You might be right,” she said.

Devlin stood upright, sticking his muscular chest out, face so fucking handsome and masculine; chiseled features, five o’clock shadow at two in the afternoon. His cock showed through his pants, swollen and massive, hanging down one leg but pushing up against the fine material of his tailored suit. She smiled. He smiled.

Kimmy said, “How did you know he put a business card in my front hall drawer, Amy?”

Amy chuckled. The answer was obvious.

“Doesn’t mean I told her to do it,” Devlin said.

“And that awful picture of me?”

Amy snorted and bowed her head. She slipped off the sleeping mask and looked up, seeing Kimmy for the first time today. Her eyebrows rose. Kimmy stood tall.

Amy exhaled an excited, disbelieving sound. “What do we have here?”

Devlin gestured Kimmy’s way. “I told you.”

Amy met Kimmy’s gaze. “Holy fuck, Kimmy. Look at you.”

Kimmy said, “And that awful picture of me?”

Amy said, “I wouldn’t call it awful.”

“If you’ve seen it, you know about it, and if you know about it, it was sent to you.”

Amy’s brow crinkled. “By whom?”

“Excuse my passive language,” Kimmy said, chuckling. She looked at Devlin. “Devlin sent it to you.”

Devlin smiled, shrugged, showed his hands in a mocking gesture of sheepishness. “It was a really good picture.”

Kimmy turned to Amy, Amy still checking her out, and it provoked an unwanted pride. As distasteful as it was, she pretended to enjoy Amy’s flattering gaze, saying to Amy, “And he thinks you’re the one who I should punish.”

Amy regarded Devlin and sneered. “Uh-oh. She’s onto you.”

“The thing with Kimmy,” Devlin said, taking off his cufflinks, “is her wrath comes with so much pleasure.”

Kimmy said nothing for a moment, tapping the looped belt against her opposite palm. Then: “Amy, undress him for me.”

Amy shared a look with Devlin, and Kimmy studied their eyes, looking to see what they communicated. Amy showed mild surprise, and Devlin showed a serious confidence. Amy was now the outsider looking in. Kimmy Chang owned Devlin Stone’s attention, and Amy would have to work hard to keep a position close to what she’d claimed before. Amy would do what Kimmy asked because it pleased Devlin. Amy was the follower. Devlin could call Amy a psychopath, but Amy followed Devlin like he was the master, not the other way around.

Amy rose to her knees and knee-walked from the head of the bed to the foot, holding an arm across her chest to stop her breasts from swaying—something an envious teenage teacup Kimmy would have dwelled on. Devlin faced her while Amy approached him from behind, putting one bare foot down on the floor near Devlin’s foot, clad in a hand-stitched black-leather brogue. Amy eyed Devlin’s profile, then flicked her poisonous gaze Kimmy’s way. “Let’s get him naked.”

Devlin smiled, eyes darkening and narrowing, angling his head to the side to get a look at beautiful Amy and her angular face framed by the platinum-blonde bob. Amy’s arms circled Devlin’s wide shoulders and snatched a handful of his tie, caressing the fabric, admiring its silky feel, before her fingers climbed their way to the knot and loosened it.

Kimmy turned and headed to the dresser on the far side of the room, opened the top drawer and searched through some of their toys, pulling out lube first and then some other useful items. When she turned, Amy was unbuttoning Devlin’s shirt, still behind him, her hands working in delicate motions, her eyes gazing at Devlin, seducing him. Once Amy had unbuttoned his shirt to the bottom, she pulled on the plackets, opening the shirt, showing off Devlin’s gorgeous body; his muscle, his spread of masculine hair across his chest. The shirt pulled out of the waistband and Amy finished the last button and slid Devlin’s shirt off his thick arms. Devlin loved the show. Devlin loved the devotion, loved all eyes on him right now.

Amy muttered sexual noises in her throat, approving noises, admiring Devlin’s bare torso and how beautiful a male specimen he was. Was it their first time together in a long time? Did Devlin fuck Amy behind her back over the summer? How much of their relationship had been a charade? Amy’s hands slid over Devlin’s shoulders, massaging his muscle, copping a feel, running down his arms. But Devlin posed for Kimmy, standing facing her, showing off the breadth of his shoulders, the way his narrow hips formed a sharp V under his muscular frame. Amy’s hands still explored, riding over his front, over his flexing abs, his narrow waist, caressing their way to his belt line. But before Amy undid the waist, her hands swept over the fly of Devlin’s fine tailored pants, her right arm extending far across so she could smooth her dominant hand over Devlin’s prized feature. She purred when she found the hump of his massive arousal.

“You’re so fucking big,” Amy whispered, handling Devlin’s weapon through his pants. “So fucking sexual.” She kissed the bare skin at his waist.

“Take off his pants,” Kimmy said, strolling her way to the bed again, tossing the big pump-bottle of lube onto the bedding. It had been full in the middle of the summer, but now it was down by two-thirds.

Amy worked loose Devlin’s waist fastener and drew down his zipper, and Devlin held Kimmy’s gaze the whole time like it was just the two of them that mattered in the room. Amy slowed, and groaned with excitement when the only thing holding Devlin’s pants up was the size of his cock and the strength it had pushing the fabric tighter on his pant leg. She drew in a whistling intake of air through her teeth, overwhelmed with sexual excitement. 

Kimmy smacked the belt into her palm, getting Amy’s attention. Amy stopped massaging Devlin’s bulge and regarded her. “Get on your knees and untie his shoes.”

Amy looked up at Devlin, and Devlin showed her a calm expression. Amy slid off the bed with a small smile, turned her back to Kimmy, and crouched at Devlin’s feet to untie his laces. Devlin and Kimmy shared looks while Amy worked.

Kimmy chuckled, slapping the belt into her palm in slow rhythm. “Good, Amy. Now his pants, please.”

Like an eager thrall, Amy, still kneeling before her master, looking up, smiling, aroused, smoothed her hands up Devlin’s leg to engage in the worship of his mighty manhood. Both of Amy’s hands stroked up and down the dark fabric, stroking and squeezing on Devlin’s impressive meat. Then she gathered her hands at Devlin’s fly and guided the pants to the floor. Inch by incredible inch, Devlin’s dark fleshy polearm was revealed. Down its thick length until one flap of the tailored fly caught on the swollen lip of his engorged coronal ridge. Then the fabric peeled further and Devlin’s huge cock was freed.

It bounced and wagged side to side, but not for long before Amy’s hands were on it, showing it all the love Kimmy had shown it this summer. Amy was mesmerized; eyes lost and ecstatic, stroking Devlin’s cock in two hands, watching the skin roll over his engorged cock head, pulling it back and watching it angle upright. She held it up against his belly, rubbing her palm north and south, eyes studying every vein and wrinkle and bulge. 

Devlin put his hands on his hips, feet shoulder width apart, doing his Superman pose; looking more like an airbrushed barbarian, the way Amy clung to his leg and knelt before him in sexual worship.

There had been many times this summer her very own behavior could be observed this way. Many times this summer, she’d worshipped Devlin’s cock and sang hymns to his deep thrusting, writhing on the bed in sultry passion as Devlin did dark and nasty things to her body with his incredible cock, made her cast aside all that mattered for one of those singular moments of intense pleasure unlike anything she’d experienced before.

While Amy showed Devlin his due adoration, Devlin’s eyes weren’t on Amy. They were on Kimmy. 

Kimmy stepped closer, looked between them at Amy as Amy used her hands to anoint Devlin’s loins. She smiled, and Devlin smiled too. There was much camaraderie there, but still a measure of mutual distrust or wariness. But just as she’d worshipped at his altar, he had begun to worship at hers, requiring some of the rare sacraments only she could perform.

She said, “You’re not wearing my panties.”

Devlin chuckled, eyes flicking down at Amy, showing some uneasiness. He said, “Not when we have company, dear.”

Amy stopped her ministration, looking up to decipher what they were talking about, jealousy roiling in her gaze.

Kimmy reached in her pocket and produced a well-worn green satin ball that, when held by a hip-string, unraveled to sway between them. “I insist,” she said.