Work Text:
#
There’s a loud smack as Satya’s hand descends, and Fareeha jerks forward with a choked sound. Her fingers claw into the bedding, crumpling the sheet between her bound hands. She is bent over Satya’s lap, belly rubbing against Satya’s smooth thighs, and this is the second time they have had to start over.
Satya pauses, fingertips soothing over the hot, stinging skin, and Fareeha shudders. “F-four.” She manages to get it out just as Satya begins to make that tsk sound she makes when she’s expecting better. Fareeha forgot once already; she doesn’t want to lose count again, or Satya will begin again at one.
Five lands on her other cheek, refreshing the sting of number two. Six lands in the exact same spot with unerring accuracy, and the pain blooms, blood burning close to the surface of her skin. Seven hits lower, half on her thigh, a new ache that makes her twitch.
It turns into a rhythm, the strikes blending together until her skin is on fire from hip to thigh, a mess of hot pain and strange, buzzing pleasure zipping up her spine and down to her toes. It clouds her brain and dulls her tongue, but she manages to keep count this time, only stuttering once or twice more.
At eighteen, Satya pauses, petting tenderly at overheated skin before she squeezes. Fareeha gasps at this new sensation, at Satya’s fingers kneading into the throbbing flesh of her ass. Her hips jerk, then Satya digs in her nails and Fareeha practically sobs. Neither of these things are as bad as when Satya begins to tease, though, when she slides her fingers down between Fareeha’s thighs and traces them lightly up the inside of the left. Fareeha’s muscles twitch again; it almost tickles, almost, and after the pain from before, the feeling is nearly overwhelming.
Her legs inch apart on their own, and it takes everything she has not to writhe like a worm on a hook. Satya’s fingers are close now, gently caressing the thin skin of her inner thigh. One finger delicately brushes against her groin, and Fareeha goes as still as she can. Her nipples tingle as they harden further, and there’s pressure building between her legs.
Then Satya’s hand pulls away, and it lands with another resounding blow.
Fareeha almost doesn’t recover in time. “Nineteen,” she chokes out, and she’s certain it is barely quick enough to avoid starting again. The final six slaps go by in a blur, and she sags when it is finished. Not that this means everything is over, but the hardest part is complete. Satya’s short, tidy nails scrape over her skin, and Fareeha’s muscles shake in response.
“You’re so good,” Satya purrs. She squeezes throbbing, reddened flesh. Fareeha whimpers and lets her legs fall farther apart. “So beautiful.” She skims the inside of Fareeha’s thighs again, nails no longer scratching but gentle and feather light. It takes every ounce of willpower Fareeha has to be still for her.
Satya rewards her by dipping a fingertip inside her, just enough to gather the slick before it’s out again, smearing along her folds until Satya finds her clit. She circles it, never touching directly, then dances back again. Fareeha’s fingers clench in the sheets. She knows from the slippery slide of Satya’s fingers that she is wet beyond belief, practically dripping with want.
Satya plays in her wetness, using it to ease the glide of her touch around Fareeha’s clit, coaxing more out of her with a few thrusts of her fingers. Back and forth between the two until Fareeha’s thighs are shaking, her cunt twitching and suckling at the fingers inside it, squeezing hopelessly around nothing when they leave again.
Then her thumb slips through all the slick to circle Fareeha’s asshole too, round and round while her fingers pump inside Fareeha’s needy cunt, and there is nothing more she can do to hold herself back. Satya’s thumb puts pressure there, just barely in, and Fareeha comes on her fingers with the sheet wadded up and stuffed inside her open, panting mouth. Satya pets her hair through it, the movement of her fingers turning gentler as the trembling of Fareeha’s thighs becomes intermittent twitching.
“Beautiful,” Satya sighs again, her voice dark and satisfied. “I believe you have earned your reward.” Fareeha nods, dizzy with the movement and feeling weightless from the orgasm, and she moves clumsily when Satya rearranges them both. Satya leans against the headboard, and she does not bother to remove Fareeha’s handcuffs before she curls a coaxing finger. “Come here, my love.”
Fareeha has to shuffle on her knees, only barely balanced with her hands still fastened together, but when she does finally stumble, it is into Satya’s arms, which cradle her face against her gorgeous tits. Fareeha sighs happily as she mouths her way toward one brown nipple, sucking it tenderly between her lips.
Satya holds her head close, fingers soft in Fareeha’s hair. She gently works out any tangles she finds, intent even now on setting things in order. Fareeha doesn’t mind; it makes her feel cared for, content. She laps at Satya’s nipple until it is a tight bud, then she teases with her teeth, pulling gently with the precise pressure Satya enjoys, for which she is rewarded with a gentle scrape of Satya’s nails along her scalp.
She is leaning awkwardly, her arms beginning to go numb with the way they’re folded beneath her, but she has no complaints about her position except that she cannot use her hands too. She sucks and licks as long as Satya allows, worshiping her tits and basking in the floral smell of her perfume and the underlying tang of sweat. She becomes greedy for it, mouth opening wider to take in more than only her nipple, more than the dark areola around it. When Satya allows it, she gives the other breast the same attention, face wet with her own saliva.
She whines when Satya gently pulls her away; it is a pitiful enough sound that somewhere in the part of her brain capable of shame right now, she feels mildly embarrassed by it. But Satya’s gentle fingers push her face down farther.
Fareeha mouths at what skin she can find, at the soft flesh of Satya’s stomach, at the burr of her hip, and then finally at her velvety cunt. Fareeha nearly sobs at the first taste of Satya on her tongue. She laps at her, nosing into the neatly trimmed hair until she bumps at Satya’s clit. Her tongue swirls along blood hot folds until Satya’s breath catches. Then she sucks silky flesh between her lips, sweeping up the taste on her tongue. She breathes in the smell of her, and she relishes in the feel of Satya’s hands in her hair, guiding her head wherever she wishes.
Fareeha knows by now what Satya likes, when to run the flat of her tongue over Satya’s clit and when to leave off, how to create the ebb and flow of desire that Satya so enjoys. She is not like Fareeha, who wants it when she wants it; she likes to be brought to the edge again and again until she can no longer hold herself back.
Fareeha feels it building in the way Satya’s belly clenches and releases, the way flesh flutters under Fareeha’s tongue, the way her thighs shake on either side of Fareeha’s head, and then she comes, her grip suddenly harsh, grinding Fareeha’s nose against her pelvis. Fareeha drinks down whatever she can, the movements of her tongue growing slower and softer as Satya rides it out, fingers spasming in her hair.
Fareeha can move her hands again, the hard-light cuffs dissipating as if they were never there. She and Satya curl up together, and Satya rubs gently at Fareeha’s wrists while she checks them for any bruising. She is thorough and tender, and she kisses each wrist in turn when she has finished her inspection. Then Fareeha’s wrists are her own again, and she uses her new freedom of movement to slide her hands along Satya’s sweaty, gleaming skin, to draw her close and kiss her, to pull half her weight onto Fareeha’s body so that they can doze off together.