Best Lesbian Erotica 2013

KITTY AND THE CAT Amelia Thornton

It was near midnight when I got there, and I knew she could see me when I walked in. And by “walked in,” I mean sashayed in, hips swinging, head high, every curve perfectly contained and displayed and inviting the gaze of every person in that room. I knew she could see me, and I knew she would want it. She just didn’t know what it was yet.

Lynn had told me about her, said she’d just moved into the flat below, seemed ever so sweet and unassuming and just generally nice. I like nice girls. Especially when I can make them be so not-nice when I try. Of course it only seemed neighborly that Lynn would invite her to the party, and of course she had warned me to “be good,” but good is not something I am 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 couldn’t 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 that’s never the best bit. The best bit is always the part when they just don’t know they’re submissive yet, when they haven’t 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 didn’t 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.

“Hello.”

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 kitty…

“Hello,” I replied, half smiling in amusement at how perfectly innocent she looked like that, half at how depraved I knew she would become. “What’s your name?”

She looked a little awkward, as if taken off balance by my simplest of questions, or perhaps more by the tone of an adult talking to a small but adorable child, instead of one adult talking to another.

“Susie.”

“Well, Susie, it’s very nice to meet you. You’ve just moved in downstairs, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, a couple of weeks ago. It seems lovely here; everyone’s really friendly and everything, not like where I used to live; my neighbors were just a nightmare, and Lynn’s ever so sweet to invite me to her party, and…”

“Yes, she is,” I cut in smoothly, almost able to taste the nervousness of her babbling. “I would quite like you to go and get me a drink, Susie. Vodka and soda, with fresh lime. Half-full with ice. Will you go and do that for me?”

Her eyes widened as if she was not quite sure if I really had just interrupted her and told her what to do. Well, asked her, really. Telling would come later.

“Oh… um, of course. Certainly. I’ll be right back.”

“Good girl,” I said with a smile, watching her cheeks flush as she scurried away, her little coat-hanger tail swaying from side to side. Oh, she was just too, too perfect. I had tried in the past to take the small-talk route, exchange pleasantries, discuss preferences. It usually worked out all right in the end, but it was just so terribly, tediously dull. It was much more fun to start off by knocking them sideways and see what happened, and besides, I’d never been wrong yet. I always know when a nice girl wants to be bad for me.

A few moments later, she returned, my drink in one hand and hers in the other, an expectant smile on her face.

“Thank you,” I said as I took it, making sure to look straight into her big brown eyes in a way I knew would make her squirm. She looked so beautiful like that. “I do like your costume, Susie. Did you make it yourself?”

“Yes.” She looked a little embarrassed at having made her own costume, not realizing that was the very thing that made me want her even more, that innocence that just couldn’t be bought.

“It’s very nice. Why haven’t you got your paws on though?” I inquired, knowing full well why not.

“Well, they’re just a bit tricky to do things with you see. Everyone was getting a bit fed up with me getting black fluff in the Doritos, so I just took them off!” She grinned shyly, tugging at the fuzzy paws. “They were more for effect than for wearing, really.”

“Well, a real kitten wouldn’t have the choice to take her paws off, would she?” I remarked, admiring the way this made her shift her weight from one foot to the other. “She wouldn’t be drinking from a glass, but from a little saucer on the floor, and curling up at her mistress’s feet like a good little kitty, having her ears stroked and her neck tickled. That is, if you were good. I think perhaps you should put them on, don’t you?”

She stared at me, as if trying to decide if I was being serious or not. I could see all of the thoughts running through her head, wondering if I meant what she thought she’d heard. I just waited.

“Well…” she began slowly, “will you hold my drink for me?”

Oh, that first victory always tasted the sweetest.

“Of course.” I took the glass from her, watching her awkwardly slip her hands inside the pink satin lining of the paws. She had certainly done a good job, to bother lining them at all. It made me wonder how much she enjoyed the thought of putting her hands inside there, feeling herself just that little bit immobilized, not being able to grip and hold and reach.

“Can I have my drink back now, please?”

It almost made me want to laugh, her trusting naïveté.

“I thought we established kitties don’t drink from glasses, but from saucers?”

“Did we?”

“Yes.”

She looked at me, a sudden panic flashing across her features as she realized what I meant, at the same time wondering if that really was what I meant. “Don’t worry though,” I soothed her, “I’ll fetch a saucer for you, seeing as you can’t do it yourself. Wait there… and don’t move.”

I made sure the last words held just the right amount of force to let her know that I expected her to do as I said, and left her there frantically imagining all of the horrors a saucer could bring. I kept glancing back at her while I went to the kitchen, and sure enough, she didn’t move an inch. Such a good girl. I surveyed the contents of her glass, which didn’t look like anything I wanted my kitten to drink, so discarded it. I felt a real kitty should probably drink milk, but seeing as mine was a special one, she deserved something a little more special. A rummage round the back of Lynn’s fridge yielded some rather interesting-looking white chocolate liqueur—most likely just as bad as the junk I had poured away, but at least of a somewhat higher quality. Delicately balancing my saucer, I returned to my pet, who was obediently standing just where I had left her.

“Have you been a good kitty while I’ve been gone?” I inquired, smiling at how the very words made her fidget.

“Um, I… er…”

She didn’t know what to say. Slowly, languidly I sat myself down on one of the dining chairs that had been dragged into the lounge to provide more seating, observing that, oddly enough, the entire area around us seemed to have gathered quite a crowd. I imagined Lynn was fuming at the “spectacle” I was making, but I didn’t care. There was something deliciously satisfying about humiliating a girl in public, especially in front of a crowd of strangers. I knew Lynn’s friends were pretty easygoing, so nobody was going to have a problem, but it made it more excruciating for little Susie to have all these people looking at her while she did all the things she didn’t realize she was going to do yet.

I placed the saucer on the floor.

“Drink it.”

I looked up at her, standing there above me, with an expression of such sheer mortification on her face I wanted to kiss her right then and there.

“Um, it’s on the floor?” she responded uneasily.

“I know. And you will be too in a minute when you get down there and drink it. Don’t you want to be a good little kitten for me?”

This would be the turning point, the tip over the edge. No sane woman would get on her hands and knees and lick from a saucer in a crowded room unless she really, really needed this.

“Yes.”

Her voice was a hoarse whisper, almost inaudible, but a sound that sent sparks down my spine. Beneath my glistening latex I could feel a slick sheen of sweat on my skin, the rubber seeming to cling even tighter as I absorbed that beautiful moment of admittance. She would be mine.

“I think you should perhaps get on the floor and drink the milk I’ve brought you then, don’t you?”

It was almost as if I could see the devil and angel battling on her shoulders. To give in was to shame herself, to show all these people she had just met that she wanted to be told what to do by a woman in shiny rubber and six-inch heels, but to give in was also to give up, to surrender her self-control and let herself be carried away with the calming pleasure of complete obedience. I don’t even know which one was the devil, and which the angel, but one of them won, and she gradually, painfully lowered herself to her knees, her cheeks burning. I glanced at our fellow guests, most of whom didn’t seem that interested anymore, since the subtleties of mind games were beyond their comprehension. Never mind, she didn’t need to know that.

“That’s a good little kitty,” I murmured softly, reaching out for her shiny brown hair, feeling it slipping through my fingers as I stroked it. “A very good little kitty. Now drink your milk.”

Her big brown eyes implored me to not make her, but I remained firm. A girl needs to learn to do as she’s told, even when it doesn’t suit her. Gently I nudged her head, watching even her ears turning redder as the humiliation raged through her, until her pretty face was right next to the saucer, her paws resting either side of it, her little pink tongue creeping out of her mouth.

“Drink it.”

I could feel the slippery wetness like a sticky river between my legs, arousal almost choking me as I watched her do as I said. Tentatively at first, then with more enthusiasm, she lapped at the contents of the saucer, with an adorable little cough of surprise when she realized it wasn’t milk after all. She looked so subservient, curled up on the floor like that, her hands motionless inside their fluffy black prisons, and I could only imagine how difficult it had been for her to do this. That thought made me glow with desire for her.

Once she had nearly drunk half of it, I reached down and took hold of the pink leather of the collar, tugging on it to motion her upward. Creamy white splashes of the liqueur clung to her lips, dribbling down her chin. Her wide eyes looked up at me, as if waiting for me to ask her to do something even worse. But I didn’t. I just stared at her, absorbing every detail of her face, every flicker in her eyes, so close I could smell the sweetness of the chocolate in the liqueur, until I couldn’t bear it any longer. Tenderly, I took her chin in my hands and pressed my lips against hers, making her almost gasp, my kiss so light it almost wasn’t there. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she brushed her lips against mine again, as if we were each testing the other, wanting the other to want it as much as we did. And we wanted it so much.

Her tongue pushed between my teeth, parting them until I could feel the coolness of her mouth, taste the sugar and cream and desperate need, my fingers twisting in her hair now, bringing her closer to me. Her body was tense, wanting to reach out and touch me but not being able to, her hands still encased in satin and fur. My poor, helpless little kitten… Just the thought of it made me want to immobilize her more, see her tied up tightly and unable to escape, struggling in her binds as I covered her body with kisses, but I knew this was no place for that. My treasured innocent would have to wait.

“Take me home.”

I almost didn’t hear her, her voice muffled between my lips that were kissing away the sound of the words. I almost didn’t dare hope that was what she had said. But she had.

I pulled away, studying her face, making sure I understood what she meant, smiling back as she smiled up at me.

“Please?”

Who could resist a girl who asked so politely? I stood up to leave, my heart pounding with anticipation, waiting for her to stand up too. She just stayed there, on her hands and knees, looking up at me so beguilingly, waiting for me to lead her. Lead her like a pet, a cherished creature, a purring kitty for me to take. That one moment of offering herself, of taking on her own humiliation without even my request, was the moment I think I fell in love with her. Slowly, so slowly, I walked across the room, not even needing to look behind me to know she was crawling after me, my adoring pet following her mistress to her lair. I waved good-bye to Lynn, whose jaw was almost literally on the floor at the sight of her sweet little neighbor crawling behind me, but none of that mattered now. I waited for my kitten to catch up with me, to crawl to her flat downstairs, where she unlocked the door and wriggled in, letting me follow. I knew I would follow her anywhere.

Her bedroom was just how I expected it, pink and white and girlish and feminine, with cushions scattered across her bed and a teddy bear in the middle. She was waiting for me, curled up on the end of the bed, her back arched, poised for whatever it was I would do to her. Thoughts crossed my mind of how much I wanted to hurt her, to make her cry and beg and scream, then kiss all those screams away, but that didn’t seem right for her. No, that would come later. Little kittens don’t cry, they purr with pleasure, and lick and stroke and play, and I wanted nothing more right now than to feel that pretty little tongue dancing all over me.

“You are a good little kitty, aren’t you?” I enthused, rubbing her ears and making her giggle with girlish pleasure. “You don’t want to be naughty, though, do you?” She shook her head vigorously, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be asked such a question, as if she hadn’t been standing next to me at a party just a few hours before being taken aback at being asked her own name. “Are you going to show me what a good little girl-pet you are then?” I enquired, getting even wetter just at the thought of it, slowly beginning to unzip my suit, revealing inch after inch of my skin to her. “Are you going to make me come all over your pretty kitty face?”

She looked quite speechless now, her eyes a mix of disbelief and sheer, unadulterated lust, watching as I pulled the zip past my aching cunt and parted my legs for her. I could feel the tightness of the rubber even more now, the coldness of the air making the rest of me feel even more contained in its latex casing, my head spinning with the need to feel her mouth on me. She flexed her body around to reach me, her hands resting either side in their cute little paws, her tongue slowly, unbearably licking the length of me, making me want to scream and grab her head and make her lap at my clit until I came right then and there. But I knew this would be better. This agonizing wait would make me see stars; I just had to endure it first.

She knew this. I could tell from the way her eyes glittered as she looked up at me, the tip of her tongue firm against my clit, circling it so slowly I thought she would almost stop. The cat ears were still perched atop her head, such an irresistible combination of adorably cute and clit-teasingly evil, I knew for certain whatever Lynn had said about her being a “nice girl” was ridiculously unfounded. Or possibly truer than she thought, depending on which way you looked at it.

The flat of her tongue was rubbing languidly against me, my pussy throbbing with a growing warmth as I climbed higher and higher, sparks darting through me, the sensation building almost painfully inside. Just one more flick, one more lick in the right spot, and I would be… I would be…

I came. Waves stronger than I had ever felt before engulfed my body, my wetness splattered across her face as I screamed until my throat felt hoarse. My hips writhed into her, my limbs spasming like I never thought was possible as pleasure jolted through every inch of my being, exhausting me beyond measure. I lay, motionless, unable to speak, as my kitty curled up at my side, planted an affectionate lick on my cheek, then finally spoke.

“So… my slave girl will probably be home soon…” She paused, almost smiling, as if trying to gauge my reaction. “I should go and get her hot chocolate ready for her… You don’t mind having two pets for the night, do you?”

I just stared at her, for the first time completely, utterly lost for words. Well.

There’s certainly nothing quite like nice girls.