The Pecking Order

[Crossedes]

She had ticklish thighs. At the giggle, Millicent stared the Italian down like a stern schoolteacher chastizing her for whispering in the back, and while she could have played on that discovery to push the limits of Desdemona's composure, she decided she would save it for later, when her pupil would expect it least. This sort of play was like its own challenge and its own chess game, and Millie liked to hold most of the pieces even when that game did not truly matter. And she knew she could build, train Dizzy's enjoyment. Keep her coming back for more.

It did a great deal for her, too, even with her pragmatic view of sensuality. The empress grew warm beneath the collar, between the legs watching as her pressing on Millicent's crotch elicited a reaction. The Italian looked ready to fly into a frenzy, but she resisted again. "Very good," Millicent commented like she was praising someone who had managed to not spill their watercolors on the floor, keeping her foot steady, a constant distraction. Desdemona succeeded in describing Constance nonetheless.

Realizing that the story was likely to bring up steamy memories, the German saw her next opportunity. She let off the gas, but shifted her heel so that the point rested - as best she could tell with no way to feel and no view of them - somewhere between Desdemona's thigh and the seam of her panties. She pressed lightly, released, pressed again, until the soft jabbing became rhythmic. "And? We what? You cannot abandon the story there."

[BlackAkuma]

And now we move on to level 4—time for a boss battle.

Dizzy hoped Millicent might have been willing to let the story drift without getting into the juicy details. She wasn’t such a freak that she could get off on the simple memory of sex on a grassy hill, but when you combined that with the foot prodding at her softness and the blazing eyes commanding her attention, it made for a difficult combination to withstand. She could feel the wetness growing between her legs, which meant Millicent could feel it, too. There was blood in the water.

Millicent eased off the gas pedal, but now she was pressing in deeper. Nowhere to run - the best Dizzy could’ve done was scoot the chair back, which would’ve broken the rules. She sat wide open and rocked from side to side with every tap, swaying like a tree in the wind. After the third time, she caught herself and straightened up, summoning her resolve.

”We…” She nibbled on her lip with her canines, trying to offset some of the pleasure with pain. ”She laid me out in the grass. She was big, bigger than me, maybe a couple inches shorter than you. The type I like. It was a little muddy from a light rain, but I didn’t mind. Kind of made it better.”

Dizzy tossed a sly eye over to the waitress, who might’ve been close enough to hear. She hadn’t thought the woman spoke English, but the furtive glances she shot their way said differently. ”She had this thicky, husky accent, too. Drove me crazy when she whispered in my ear. And that tongue…fuck…”

Dizzy’s eyes rolled back and she nearly lost herself for a moment, barely a second, but caught herself before falling off the cliff, before her body could surrender to the pleasure. She came back panting, but marshalled her breathing in short order. She had this, she had this.

[Crossedes]

Desdemona became more of a puppet than a person while Millicent continued her prodding rhythm. It was satisfying to watch. Millicent did not know how long it would take her to regain her thoughts and continue her story, but she came close to considering Dizzy at her limit. But still she made a comeback to what the German at first thought would be a warbled, aimless telling of her story that steadily became easier to follow. The empress caught the glance at the waitress, too - a waitress who looked to be following the story to some degree.

Perfect. Millicent didn't try to stop the roguish smile from crossing her face.

"I would guess you have a thing for ears and accents," she commented, before throwing up her hand to signal for that very waitress to return. She fetched her purse from beside her notebook. Time to pay, and time to see if Desdemona possessed the backbone to continue to resist. The waitress, looking sheepish, trotted over, and the action beneath the table shifted again. The probing foot dropped to let the bare one replace it once more, and just as the waitress reached the table, Millie slid it along that ticklish part of Dizzy just as she had planned.

The waitress, flushed, kept her face buried in her notepad as she arrived, but Millicent did not want her departing too quickly. "I admit I am curious," she began, offering flirtatious eyes, fetching the right money, and planting her foot squarely on Desdemona's damp lap all at once. The foot pressed down and scrunched, stimulating every inch of Desdemona she could reach. "Do you speak English?"

[BlackAkuma]

Wow, this boss was tough. Really working her over. Dizzy had to focus on all the patterns and…

…screw it, enough with the videogame analogies. She barely even played them, anyway.

”Fuck.” Dizzy gasped the word out as Millicent continued to work her over, driving her insane with the torturous rhythm. She’d often fantasized about this sort of thing, loving the idea of tease and denial play. Still, there was a difference between rubbing one out to videos on the internet and the occasional dipping with a partner and this. She knew that Millicent was good, damn good, but she was starting to get a good idea of how wide the gulf was. The German was on a different level.

The foot moved away, finally, and Dizzy was allowed to breathe her first controlled breath in at least two minutes, though that relaxation ended when Millicent pressed her ticklish button. The Italian spat out a quick, squealing laugh that made the approaching waitress jump, but she tightened her lips and kept anything else from getting out.

Sweat was forming. Cheeks blushing. Eyes watering. There was even the faint scent of sex in the air, slicing it through the air and beginning to dominate the competition. Damn, damn, damn. Millicent’s foot moved in for the kill, ramping up its work and stimulating her pussy with the whole foot. No mercy.

Dizzy’s eyes widened, and her lip quivered, doing her best to maintain some sense of normalcy as the nervous waitress spoke up. She looked her way long enough to translate the name tag: Ritsuko, she was pretty sure. ”Ah, yes. Some English, some.” She nodded, looking between them as she brought the menu up to cover her chest. ”Is everything okay?”

”Yes!” Dizzy’s voice somehow went through three different octaves in a single syllable, as she kept her face forward. ”I’m fine, everything’s fine, aren’t you fine, Millie?”

[Crossedes]

Keeping up the act that nothing was happening but a heated conversation, the empress looked over at Desdemona with confusion, as if she had no clue where that outburst came from. She kept watching when she noticed the redness washing across the Italian's face. She lingered for a time, savoring it, but eventually looked back to the waitress with the same warm expression she had worn during her entire visit. Meanwhile, her foot treated Desdemona's crotch like a washboard, her movements subtle enough for her to avoid jiggling either of their bodies.

Thinking Dizzy might not have it in her to answer Ritsuko's question, Millie opened her mouth to speak. But the cub sang a song. She must have truly needed to let out all that pent-up energy. Resisting the urge to laugh in pleasure, the empress looked between her mentee and the waitress. "She is being modest. She thoroughly enjoyed her food, and I enjoyed mine. And the service." Her last few words were painted in a lustful tint, and Ritsuko bashfully grinned. "Domo arigato gozaimasu, kyaku-san. Good, good."

Knowing women well enough to know that Desdemona would not have much resistance left against the whims of her body, she ceased in her torture but let her foot continue to rest against the front of her panties. "And what do I owe for the good food and service?", she asked, and as the waitress explained, the German calmly counted out the necessary yen and passed it to the waitress. It was a shame tipping was not a cultural expectation. Once all was exchanged, she pressed down more tightly with her foot. "You can expect to see us again. I think Desdemona would agree."

[BlackAkuma]

Just hold on. Just keep holding on. You can do this, you can survive this, just a little bit longer and you’ll be at the promised land. As crazy as it was, Dizzy tried to think of it like training. After all, she wanted to be a hentai wrestler, right? Well, if she wanted to be a successful one, she would have to endure much sexier things than a footjob. She was going to be tangling with some of the hottest women in the industry on a weekly basis, women with sexual records that put even hers to shame. This was part of the training, teaching her how to hold on, not matter what was going on below the waist.

Either that or Millicent just got a kick out of messing with her. Probably a little bit of both columns.

Whatever the case, she was given a moment’s respite, which she greatly appreciated. Her body withered as the German counted out her money, sagging forward, but she straightened up just in time for Millicent to give her a jolt with the foot, whipping her back in shape. ”I would agree.” Dizzy huffed. ”Emphatically.” And puffed.

She gave Ritsuko a nod, and the waitress scurried off, taking care to resume her work out of their earshot this time. All the same, Dizzy whispered and closed her eyes, let her raspy voice go just far enough for Millicent to hear. ”That was mean. You are a mean, mean person” Dizzy grumbled with no small amount of feigned indignation, as she glanced down towards the foot, still perilously planted on her pussy. ”Am I impressing?”

[Crossedes]

Millicent could have found more excuses to keep Ritsuko at the table, but the empress could not waste her day away with mind games. There was a point to giving torture, skills to be gained, and lustful addiction to grow. The waitress need not be privy to any of it even if her interest in both the empress and her pupil was amusing and endearing. Besides, Desdemona sounded as if she had started choking on oxygen, and Ritsuko might have an ambulance called to the cafe if the antics continued.

After a parting "Arigatou," Millie's eyes trailed the waitress' comically thorough escape, only Dizzy's whispers bringing her back to the task at hand. The side of her mouth lifted. "Your praise will not get you anywhere" She began to pull her belongings to the edge of the table, making it clear their time together would soon come to a close. But first, a review, and the German tented her fingers to study her mentee for an uncomfortably long few seconds before speaking.

"Aside from sounding like a steam train on occasion, you are surprisingly composed for someone so rabid with lust." It was a backhanded compliment, but a compliment. "You would not be totally out of your element in a skilled lover's hands. But, I am going to assume you would rather finish the work yourself rather than turn into a deflating balloon in the middle of the cafe?" Preferably, Desdemona would see that as a more genuine inquiry than an offer. "If so, that is all I had for you today."

[BlackAkuma]

Dizzy did her best to collect herself as Millicent gave her a review, trying to pay attention to the constructive criticism. On the surface, it was a strange scene. While she respected her mother’s opinion, she never cared much for her approval. Growing up, she’d come across other wrestlers’ kids who hung off their parents' every word, waxed poetry about following their legacy and treated their parents like gods. Dizzy had never come close to that, never going out of her way to get her mother’s take on anything.

Yet, when Millicent, a woman she’d known for less than twenty minutes, gave her some faint praise, she happily gulped it up. The contradiction occurred to her, and she didn’t much care.

With Millicent officially ending things, Dizzy relaxed, slipping her toes back into her sandals and bringing her hands off the table…or trying to, anyway. She’d accumulated enough sweat to make her palms sticky, and she lifted the tablecloth with her for a few inches before gravity peeled it away. There was also the dampness between her thighs…if Ritsuko didn't think to clean up the chairs after they left, the next person to sit down at this table might have an unwelcome surprise.

”Yeah, I’ll handle that business before I leave.” She pointed a weary finger towards the bathroom. A one-stall, private bathroom from the looks of it, something she was incredibly grateful for. ”Thanks for meeting me like this. It was…” She took a moment, searching for just the right word. ”...enlightening.” She nodded. That would do.

”Ciao, padrona. Until next time.”