Chapter 23: Round two
The silence that followed Yelena’s confession was thick, warm, a palpable blanket of afterglow and newfound truth. Wanda’s fingers, still tracing idle patterns on Yelena’s shoulder, stilled.
“You ready for more?” Wanda’s voice was a low thrum, a challenge wrapped in velvet.
Yelena’s body felt liquefied, spent, but a sharp, eager spark ignited in her core at the question. She turned her head, meeting Wanda’s heavy-lidded gaze. “Yes,” she breathed, the word a shiver of anticipation.
From Yelena’s other side, Natasha shifted, a slow, predatory stretch. “I can go a few more rounds.” Her voice was husky with use, her eyes fixed on Wanda with pure, undisguised worship. “If Mommy wants.”
A slow, dangerous smile spread across Wanda’s face. The tender domme was receding, replaced by something more primal, more practiced. She moved, rolling Yelena gently onto her back and sliding out from between them. She stood at the edge of the towering bed, a goddess framed by the billowing shadows and muted gold light.
“On your knees, solnyshko,” Wanda said to Yelena, her tone leaving no room for debate. “At the edge of the bed. Let me see all of you.”
Yelena scrambled to obey, her limbs shaky but responsive. She positioned herself, the silk cool against her knees, her heart hammering against her ribs. She felt exposed, offered.
Natasha slid off the bed, moving with her dancer’s grace. She fetched one of the half-empty wine glasses, took a sip, and then came to stand behind Wanda, pressing her front against Wanda’s back. She wrapped her arms around Wanda’s waist, nuzzling into the junction of her neck and shoulder. Natasha began kissing Wanda’s neck, soft, open-mouthed bites that made Wanda hum in approval.
“Watch,” Wanda murmured to Natasha, her eyes locked on Yelena. “Watch what I can do.”
Her hands lifted. The air crackled, and the familiar crimson mist coalesced. But this time, the form it took was different. It was the same staggering length and thickness, a familiar, intimidating silhouette, but the texture seemed more defined, the glow more intense, almost liquid. Wanda took a step forward, the construct held not by her hands, but by her will alone, hovering, pulsing with latent energy.
“You thought that was my best?” Wanda asked, her head tilting. “That was just… introduction.”
With a thought, she guided the shimmering cock forward. The initial breach was the same—a breathtaking, full-body shock of intrusion that made Yelena gasp and clutch the rumpled sheets. But then Wanda began to thrust.
And it was different.
Before, it had been a relentless, powerful claiming. Now, it was a masterclass. Wanda moved with a subtle, devastating precision. She wasn’t just sliding in and out; she was articulating the magical member inside Yelena with impossible, minute control. A shallow, teasing drag that focused purely on the entrance, followed by a deep, corkscrewing plunge that seemed to touch her cervix from a new angle. She’d pull back until just the swollen head remained, letting Yelena’s body clench around nothing, then piston forward in a series of short, sharp jabs that struck a cluster of nerves Yelena didn’t know she had.
“Oh… fuck… Bozhe…” Yelena choked, her head falling forward. Pleasure was no longer a wave; it was a targeted, surgical strike. Each movement was a new discovery, a fresh, shocking peak building on the last.
Yelena realized, through the haze of building ecstasy, that Wanda had been holding back. What she had taken before was immense, but it was power restrained. This… this was skill unleashed. This was an artist working with a familiar, beloved medium.
“She’s so good, isn’t she?” Natasha whispered against Wanda’s skin, her hands roaming Wanda’s body—cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples, sliding down her taut stomach to the junction of her thighs. Natasha’s fingers found Wanda slick and ready, and she moaned into Wanda’s neck as she began to touch her, her own hips rolling against Wanda’s backside. “Mommy knows exactly how to break a girl. To make her feel so good it’s terrifying.”
Wanda’s breathing hitched, her control over the magical construct never faltering even as Natasha’s clever fingers worked her. “Look at her, Nat. Look at our girl.”
Yelena was coming apart. The precision of the thrusts, the varied rhythm, the constant, unexpected stimulation were shattering her higher functions. She was a vocal, sobbing mess. “Please… Mommy… right there… don’t stop… it’s too much… it’s too good…”
“Where, baby?” Wanda cooed, her voice dripping with condescending sweetness even as she drove the cock deep, grinding against a spot that made Yelena see white. “Tell Mommy exactly where.”
“Inside! Everything! Fuck, I’m gonna… something’s happening…”
A new sensation was building, distinct from the sharp peaks of her previous orgasms. It was a deep, internal pressure, a swelling tide originating from a place untouched by any past lover. It felt like her very core was being squeezed, massaged, unlocked.
Wanda saw the change in her face—the widening of panicked eyes, the desperate gulps for air. “That’s it,” Wanda purred, increasing her pace, focusing now on a specific, ruthless rhythm. “Let it go. Give it to me. I want to see it.”
With a cry that was half-terror, half-triumph, Yelena shattered. The climax roared through her, but it was different. As her body convulsed, a gush of warm fluid, not the trickle of mere arousal, but a sudden, surprising jet, erupted from her, soaking the sheets beneath her knees. The sensation was shocking, immense, a release so profound it felt like her soul was being squeezed out along with it.
She sagged forward, spent, trembling, the fluid still leaking from her in sporadic pulses around the still-thrusting magical cock.
Wanda laughed, a sound of pure, delighted victory. She slowed her movements to a gentle, soothing rock. “Your first squirt,” she said, as if naming a rare achievement. “Beautiful. Absolutely fucking beautiful.” She looked over her shoulder at Natasha. “Did you see that, my love? Our girl is full of surprises.”
Natasha was breathing hard, her fingers working furiously between Wanda’s legs, mesmerized. “I saw. She’s perfect.” She leaned around, catching Yelena’s dazed eyes. “You okay, sestra?”
Yelena could only manage a weak, delirious nod. The experience had been cathartic and slightly bewildering.
Wanda dissolved the construct with a thought, the crimson mist evaporating. She stepped away from Natasha’s touch, leaving Natasha whimpering at the loss. Wanda moved to the bed, kneeling before the quaking Yelena. She didn’t kiss her. Instead, she slid two fingers inside Yelena’s soaked, sensitive opening, then brought them to her own mouth, tasting deeply. Her green eyes fluttered closed in appreciation.
“Perfect,” she whispered again.
Then her eyes opened, and the look in them shifted. The focus was turning inward. The domme had given her subs a show. Now, she needed her own.
“Natasha,” Wanda said, her voice now a command wrapped in raw silk. “On the bed. On your back. Now.”
Natasha moved without hesitation, a fluid motion of obedience. She lay back, legs spread, her body a pale offering against the dark silk.
Wanda crawled over her, a predator claiming her territory. She didn’t use her magic. She lowered her head between Natasha’s thighs, her breath hot.
“Mommy’s been so good,” Natasha panted, her hands tangling in Wanda’s hair. “Mommy deserves a treat. Please, let me come on your tongue.”
Wanda’s answer was to dive in. There was no finesse now, just voracious hunger. She ate Natasha with a single-minded intensity that was almost violent. Her tongue was a blunt, ruthless instrument, lapping, thrusting, circling Natasha’s clit with a pace that was instantly unsustainable.
Natasha cried out, her back arching off the bed. “Yes! Oh God, yes! Right there, Mommy, please!”
From her knees, Yelena watched, transfixed. Wanda’s face was buried in Natasha, her shoulders working. Natasha’s pleas were a continuous, ragged soundtrack. It was the most intimate, raw thing Yelena had ever witnessed. She saw the moment Natasha’s control snapped—a guttural scream, a full-body seizure, her thighs clamping around Wanda’s head.
Wanda didn’t let up. She rode Natasha through that first brutal peak and straight into a second, her fingers joining her tongue, curling and pumping with inhuman speed. A third orgasm ripped through Natasha mere seconds later, this one silent, her mouth open in a soundless scream, tears leaking from her eyes.
Yelena knew Wanda was a goddess in bed. She had just experienced it. But watching her work, seeing the absolute devotion in Natasha’s shattered expression, the sheer technical mastery of pleasure… it was awe-inspiring.
Wanda finally pulled back, her chin glistening. She looked up at Natasha’s wrecked form, a possessive satisfaction in her eyes.
Natasha, trembling, reached a weak hand down. “You… you didn’t…”
“I don’t need to,” Wanda said, her voice rough. She moved up Natasha’s body, capturing her lips in a deep, messy kiss, letting Natasha taste herself. “Watching you two fall apart is my orgasm.”
She broke the kiss and turned her head, her gaze finding Yelena’s. The fire in her eyes hadn’t diminished. “Now come here,” she said, her voice softening only a fraction. “Both of you. It’s time for you to worship each other. Show me how you love what belongs to me.”
She settled back against the headboard, a queen on her throne, expectant, watching as her two lovers, raw and open and hers, moved toward each other in the dim light.