Dorabella looked around. Raylene had invited her to sit, but the only chair was near the window, where the desk had been. I picked it up and carried it, placing it beside the bed. Whosoever sat in that most special chair would have a perfect side view of Raylene’s caning, capturing the impact off the cane on her ass, her facial expressions, and her belly and left breast crushed into the tabletop.
The view would be even better when Raylene raised her upper body, as I intended she’d do after each fourth, harder, stroke. It would be the best seat in the house,
Dorabella smiled at me gratefully, and took a step towards to the chair. “No,” I said. “You stand.”
“Oh?” Dorabella was puzzled.
“The seat’s for Lynette, if she comes. You, on the other hand, stand.”
Dorabella’s mouth dropped open. That seemed to be information about the sexual pecking order in this room, and it caught her by surprise. She touched her upper lip with her tongue, raising her brows and stared at me. It was an appeal: could I mean it? I smiled at her. “You can be beside me.” That sounded like another privileged position, and Dorabella smiled back and joined me.
I put my hand on Raylene’s ass and squeezed. “Just a few moments more, I think.” Raylene turned her head at the touch, and smiled. But there was strain there, in her eyes. She was getting nervous. In the meantime that would be sexy for her, if I read her right, but I shouldn’t keep her waiting too much longer. I let my thumb stray between her buttocks to rub her cunt, without entering.
Her face relaxed a little. “Look at the floor, love,” I told her. “Good girl.”
I pressed a little harder against her cunt and she hissed in air. Then breathed out, long and slow, while I moved the side of my hand down, and then up, pressed hard against most soft, moist and puffy skin, still without entering. But that was my farewell. I stepped back.
Dorabella, beside me, had watched this interaction intently, but she still gazed at Raylene’s ass. I didn’t understand that part of what was happening. Dorabella wasn’t into girls, she’d often said, and I believed her. Anyway, your own half-sister would be a … controversial choice for a lust object. But something about this titillated her. More than titillated. I didn’t understand that part.