14. Wren

It's been hours.Surely, it's been hours. That's what most of me believes, but the logical, rational and thankfully stubborn part of my brain knows it's really only been minutes. But they've been long, torturous minutes. To only have peripheral glimpses of Amara's naked body, to be teased by the lighter-than-air sound of her dress falling to the floor, and not being able to look, was torture.

But I also know it's a necessary part of the process. I know I must endure these tests and these trials in order to receive a reward.

Well, I'm ready for my reward now.

The last moments before Amara speaks are the longest of all and I can't stop myself from exhaling hard and heavy when she finally does say something.

"Now what?" she asks, and I know it's a question for Katja.

"I don't think you need my help," Katja says and because I'm prohibited from looking at her too, I try to analyse her voice, but there's nothing telling there at all. I wonder if she's looking at my wife naked. Is she as turned on as I want her to be?

"I… I do," Amara stutters.

"Are you ready for Wren to look at you? To touch you?"

"Yes."

"Are you ready to tell them exactly what you want them to do?"

Yes, please, God, do that. Do it right now.

"Yes, Chef, I am." Amara's voice is thin and breathy.

"Then go ahead, Mistress Amara," Katja says and she sounds so much more composed than either Amara or me.

Amara clears her throat and out of the corner of my eye, I notice her toes curling into the sofa cushion, like a cat stretching and trying to get comfortable.

Oh, wife. I will make you comfortable. So very comfortable. Just please let me taste you. I hold my breath.

"You may look at me, Wren," Amara says, her voice more solid now.

I lift my head, but keep my palms on my thighs.

Amara is sitting in the corner of our sectional sofa, one leg stretched out towards me, and the other extended in the opposite direction. They're so long, they seem to go on forever. She balances her hands on her bent knees, and her cunt is completely exposed, slick and dark pink. I lick my lips.

"I want you to touch me, Wren. I want you to kiss your way down the inside of my leg, and then give my pussy one single kiss. And then I want you to kiss your way down my other leg," Amara says and although her voice is level and her eyes are steady on mine, I see the way her chest rises and falls sharply. "And then I want you to suck my big toe."

Fuck.

That's not the word I say. In fact, the noise I make isn't a word. It's a grunt and a sigh all rolled into one incoherent anguished noise.

"Very good, Mistress Amara," Katja says and I wish I could turn to her to see how this is affecting her. Is she proud? Is she impressed? Are her nipples hard? Her cunt wet? But I don't look, won't look, because Amara is my mistress and I have orders to obey.

I move, pulling my legs up and under me so I am closer to Amara and have better leverage to bring her foot to my mouth, which I do. I kiss the tip of each toe before I glide my lips down the top of her foot and around the jutting bone of her ankle. She shivers as I leave little pecks on the joint itself, a quick flick of my tongue caressing all the angles there. And then I continue my journey, holding her leg up until I'm halfway down her shin and I can rest her foot on my shoulder. As I reach the peak that is her knee, I am more generous with my tongue, lapping at the sensitive skin on the inside of her leg and even stretching it to tickle behind her knee. Amara rewards my efforts with more trembles. But then she speaks again.

"Hurry up, Wren," she warns and I'm not used to hearing Amara talk to me like this during sex that it nearly makes me bite back, to switch back into the Dom I used to be. To tell her to watch her tone and to make her lie down so I can ride her face instead of me pleasuring her. But I swallow that urge, and I keep kissing my way down her inner thigh.

When I get to the apex of her legs, I take the liberty of pausing, my lips poised above her cunt. I inhale deeply and hold the scent of her in my lungs. It's so spicy and musky and sweet. So Amara.

"One kiss, Wren," Katja's voice comes from behind me. I could be mistaken but she sounds closer. I hope she's closer.

One kiss. That's what I'm allowed, but I make it one lick and it's a sweeping, greedy taste of the full length of Amara's cunt, from just above her ass all the way to her clit and I curl my tongue up as it leaves her flesh, just to flick it.

"Fuck." Amara sighs and her hands come to the back of my head. Another instinct, perhaps a mistake, but she's creative about it and uses her grip on me to push my head to her other leg.

I am a little hastier kissing my way down her right leg. I want her pussy too much. But after I get off the sofa and kneel on the floor and have made my way to her ankle, I reposition Amara's limb so I can kiss the sole of her foot this time. As I anticipate, these kisses tickle her and her body jolts as shy little giggles erupt from her mouth.

"Stop, Wren, stop," she says. And I do, because now I'm at her toes. I study her big toe with its shell-pink nail polish and perfectly manicured appearance, then I look up into Amara's eyes and slide the toe into my mouth.

I suck on it. Hard. I suck as hard as I can. I suck until my cheeks hollow out. I suck until Amara's whole leg stretches straight, tensing, and she throws her head back, eyes closed.

"You're such a good little sub," Katja says, and she's moved again. I turn my head slightly and see her sitting on the sofa behind me, next to Amara and where I originally started, except she's a little further away. It's like she doesn't want to get too close and that aggravates me in a strange way, but there's no time to think about that because Amara is pulling her toe from my mouth and sliding down the sofa.

"I need you now, Wren. I need your mouth on me."

I jump to obey, scrambling close on my knees and diving headfirst into my wife's cunt. My mouth covers as much of her as I can and my tongue darts out to taste her, to lap at her, to love on her. I flick her swollen clit until she's wriggling around, my hands under her thighs clamping down to keep her still. Whatever problems Amara and I have, this is not one of them. I know how to pleasure my wife. I know she likes to be overwhelmed with different sensations – licking, flicking, sucking, fucking – and I rotate all of these things as I move from her entrance to her outer labia where I nibble at her skin which is warm and soft between my teeth.

"Yes, Wren, yes," she urges me on, her hands in my hair.

This is when, for the first time tonight, for the first time in months and months, I start to think that maybe we'll be okay. Maybe we'll be able to work it out. Maybe if Amara can just exercise a bit of domination over me, if she can just learn a few more tricks from Katja…

Enough! I put the brakes on such thoughts so suddenly I nearly lose my rhythm alternating between licks and sucks on Amara's clit.

"I need more," Amara says, and as if on another instinct, I bring my hand up to her cunt.

"No," Amara says and she squirms away from the fingers that are poised at her entrance. "I need…"

She drifts off and so I lean back, looking up at her and seeing her eyebrows pulled together. Gone is that poised confidence of before when she was dishing out orders. What I see now is reminiscent of when Amara is most turned on, most wound up, and most in need of a huge, huge release.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

But Amara doesn't look at me, she looks over at Katja. I follow her gaze and see Katja sitting up straight, her arm on the back of the sofa. She too looks perplexed and like she's holding back a million words.

"I need…" Amara tries again. "I need you, Chef."