Read Online Best Lesbian Erotica 2013 by Kathleen Warnock - Free Book Online
Authors: Kathleen Warnock
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particularly capable of, especially when I am presented with a specimen so utterly, unquestionably adorable. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her, staring, trying hard to compose herself and continue her small talk, but not quite able to. She couldnât help it. Girls like her never can.
Of course she would submit; there was no question about that. She would be on her knees, her tongue caressing the slick shine of my heels, her worshipful eyes looking up at me, begging me to fuck her ass and cane her thighs and do whatever I wanted with her, whatever that was. She would tell me how much she needed it, tell me she was mine, tell me her whole body and being belonged to me entirely. But thatâs never the best bit. The best bit is always the part when they just donât know theyâre submissive yet, when they havenât realized the true equality of inequality and the beautiful release of giving themselves over. This chase, this game, this revealing of what I always know and they never do, this is the part that makes the blood pump through my veins. And I intended to savor every tiny, minuscule moment of it.
Across the room, I could see Lynn scowling at me, annoyed I had ignored her primly conservative costume advice and turned up in my own creation. I just smiled good-naturedly and gave her a little wave, mentally altering her entire pirate wench outfit to be at least six inches shorter and possibly two sizes tighter. Bless her. She didnât really think I was going to miss an opportunity like this, did she?
The sheer beauty of costume parties is that they make it utterly acceptable, if not mandatory, to dress like a complete slut, and though sluttery is usually what I pride my girls on, not myself, I felt it rude not to get in the spirit of things. After much deliberation, I had decided on Catwoman, since I already owned the outfit, and I knew it was just what I needed to make Cute Little Neighbor aware of what I intended for her. As a nod to the flimsy excuse for head-to-toe perversion my character allowed, I even had a matching black cat-eye mask, but the beauty of the outfit was in the suit. Every curve of my body was coated in a thick sheen of polished black latex, clinging to
me like a second skin, each limb a smooth length of blackness; my feet were encased in tightly laced six-inch-high boots. My ivory-white breasts were crushed into an unbearable cleavage, revealed by the temptingly lowered zipper bisecting my entire torso, undone just enough to display what I wanted, but also to hint at what was beneath. She would certainly want what was beneath, I knew that much.
I was pondering how long to leave it before going to fetch her, and how forward to be when I did, when I heard a small, timid voice at my side.
âHello.â
I turned, blinking in surprise to see her standing there already. So the prey thinks she can be the predator, hmm? Her eyes were round and expressive, a deep brown framed by long lashes, and there was a sprinkling of freckles across her rounded nose. Her neat brown bob was topped with a pair of cat ears looking suspiciously like bachelorette party accessories, and the rest of the outfit was a plain black leotard, shiny black tights and a homemade cat tail made from a wire hanger wrapped in furry fabric. Around her neck was a pastel-pink kitty collar, trimmed with diamanté, with a little metal tag in the shape of a heart. I do like an attention to detail. The paws were what got me though: safety-pinned with ribbon to each of her leotard sleeves hung two furry black mitts, stitched with pretty, pink satin paw prints, looking alluringly as if they would render the hands quite useless if put on properly. Oh, my poor, helpless, pretty little kittyâ¦
âHello,â I replied, half smiling in amusement at how perfectly innocent she looked like that, half at how depraved I knew she would become. âWhatâs your name?â
She looked a little awkward, as if
Of course she would submit; there was no question about that. She would be on her knees, her tongue caressing the slick shine of my heels, her worshipful eyes looking up at me, begging me to fuck her ass and cane her thighs and do whatever I wanted with her, whatever that was. She would tell me how much she needed it, tell me she was mine, tell me her whole body and being belonged to me entirely. But thatâs never the best bit. The best bit is always the part when they just donât know theyâre submissive yet, when they havenât realized the true equality of inequality and the beautiful release of giving themselves over. This chase, this game, this revealing of what I always know and they never do, this is the part that makes the blood pump through my veins. And I intended to savor every tiny, minuscule moment of it.
Across the room, I could see Lynn scowling at me, annoyed I had ignored her primly conservative costume advice and turned up in my own creation. I just smiled good-naturedly and gave her a little wave, mentally altering her entire pirate wench outfit to be at least six inches shorter and possibly two sizes tighter. Bless her. She didnât really think I was going to miss an opportunity like this, did she?
The sheer beauty of costume parties is that they make it utterly acceptable, if not mandatory, to dress like a complete slut, and though sluttery is usually what I pride my girls on, not myself, I felt it rude not to get in the spirit of things. After much deliberation, I had decided on Catwoman, since I already owned the outfit, and I knew it was just what I needed to make Cute Little Neighbor aware of what I intended for her. As a nod to the flimsy excuse for head-to-toe perversion my character allowed, I even had a matching black cat-eye mask, but the beauty of the outfit was in the suit. Every curve of my body was coated in a thick sheen of polished black latex, clinging to
me like a second skin, each limb a smooth length of blackness; my feet were encased in tightly laced six-inch-high boots. My ivory-white breasts were crushed into an unbearable cleavage, revealed by the temptingly lowered zipper bisecting my entire torso, undone just enough to display what I wanted, but also to hint at what was beneath. She would certainly want what was beneath, I knew that much.
I was pondering how long to leave it before going to fetch her, and how forward to be when I did, when I heard a small, timid voice at my side.
âHello.â
I turned, blinking in surprise to see her standing there already. So the prey thinks she can be the predator, hmm? Her eyes were round and expressive, a deep brown framed by long lashes, and there was a sprinkling of freckles across her rounded nose. Her neat brown bob was topped with a pair of cat ears looking suspiciously like bachelorette party accessories, and the rest of the outfit was a plain black leotard, shiny black tights and a homemade cat tail made from a wire hanger wrapped in furry fabric. Around her neck was a pastel-pink kitty collar, trimmed with diamanté, with a little metal tag in the shape of a heart. I do like an attention to detail. The paws were what got me though: safety-pinned with ribbon to each of her leotard sleeves hung two furry black mitts, stitched with pretty, pink satin paw prints, looking alluringly as if they would render the hands quite useless if put on properly. Oh, my poor, helpless, pretty little kittyâ¦
âHello,â I replied, half smiling in amusement at how perfectly innocent she looked like that, half at how depraved I knew she would become. âWhatâs your name?â
She looked a little awkward, as if
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