Virtua Fighter: How She Gets Her Kicks
Chapter 3: Last Round
On her last night in San Francisco, Pai opens herself up to Sarah completely...
Author's Note: This is the third chapter of a continuing three-part romantic story, and it is recommended that readers begin with the first. This story involves young queer women interested in various kinks including scatology, footfucking, menstrual sex and incest roleplay. If that seems a little extreme, don't worry: your browser's back button is as ready as ever to whisk you to safety!
In case readers are not familiar with the characters in this story, Pai Chan is a 19 year old martial arts movie star from Hong Kong, and Sarah Bryant is a 21 year old college student from the United States. All characters appearing in this story are over 18.
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Autumn! It had been Pai Chan's favorite time of year for as long as she could remember. She felt that way when she was a tiny girl, heading out into the park, hand-in-hand with her mother to pick up fallen chestnuts, the sweet and mellow scents of other things that had tumbled from trees wafting up into her little nostrils.
And she felt that way now, looking out at the deep golden tint of the evening sky, dappled and reflected in the ocean bay as the sun sank into it; she felt it in the brown of the dead leaves swirling around them: the colors at life's end that Pai found the most vivid and poignant of all.
But, tonight, at the center of them, she had something new to feast her eyes on, something more beautiful than she had known in her entire young life.
Her date was seated across the restaurant table, smiling as confidently as always, and dressed like the killer lady she was in a spaghetti-strap, halterneck dress, cut from black leather and perfectly tailored for a skin-tight fit. Pai's imagination raced along the flawless skin it left exposed: the plunging neckline that ended its dive beneath Sarah's full, firm breasts; the slits cut up the sides of her mini-skirt, all the way up to the blonde's waistline.
But there was so much more of Sarah to see, and Pai wanted to witness it again; needed it. She had twice already accidentally-on-purpose dropped her napkin off the table to take a better look - what was the harm in a third trip? With a small flick of her fingers, the 'autumn breeze' took her napkin over the edge again, leaving her with simply no choice but to bend down and take another breathtaking glance of what lay beneath.
Those beautiful calves and thighs that so entranced Pai every time she encountered them were emphasized by a fine fishnet of silky white stockings, attached by a lacy garter belt that slyly flashed through the slits on Sarah's skirt whenever the seductive beauty crossed her legs. Her equally gorgeous feet were teasing Pai below, scarlet-topped toes barely peeping through white PVC leather as her heels dangled in and out of stiletto pumps that dazzled Pai each time they caught a glint from the setting sun.
Fuck! It was all she could manage to stave off the urge to rip those shoes and stockings clean off Sarah's skin right-this-moment, and make love to her in the nastiest way in front of the restaurant's entire refined clientele.
Sarah gave her a little kick on the nose.
"*Once* is a mistake. *Twice* is a pattern. *Three* times?" Sarah dropped her voice. "Three times is the habit of a thirsty little dyke who just can't wait to be used. And don't you worry: tonight, she will be. Oh, yes, she'll be used in a way she'll *never* forget. But until then, let's remember our table manners, shall we?"
Pai gulped, nodded, sat back up and tried to remember what a good little girl she was supposed to be.
They were seated at the most expensive restaurant in the city, isolated tables for two with a cliffside overlook and champagne on tap. Sarah was treating her for screwing up their fight, but neither of them cared about the money anymore - they wanted this place for the sheer decadence. It made them savor the anticipation of what they were planning to do to each other later: things that were at once unmentionably filthy and that both knew the other couldn't stop craving.
Pai, for her part, had spent hours preparing herself for this fateful evening, and hoped she was inspiring a fraction of the lust in Sarah that she felt melting through her own loins. She had been out during the day out shopping for shoes and clothes, trying and gloriously failing not to spend every waking minute thinking about sticking her tongue into the American girl's rectum and searching for bitter little treats.
It was the time of year that the westerners had that religious festival with the ghosts and witches, and cute little black cats, and those giant oranges with the scary faces cut into them. That had inspired her choice of costume: she felt almost naked in her sheer purple corset, all glossy silk on its surface, but with black frilly tufts over her cleavage, and suspended by lace from a tight black choker that Pai hoped said, in quite a blatant way, 'please make me your bitch tonight'. She wore gloves of the same color and style on her forearms, and a semi-transparent hoop miniskirt with embedded glitter that looked like stardust falling down its crinolines.
Yes, Pai wanted to look, and feel, like a naughty little witch tonight - one who was going to enrapture Sarah with her dirty magic! Not to be outdone by Sarah's awesome legs, she had highlighted her own with purple and black knee-high silken boots, whose platform heels aggressively straddled the line between 'goth' and plain old 'slut'. And the way she felt her date's aquamarine eyes exploring her efforts, it seemed to be working.
They had been slyly looking at each over their menus for so long that the waiter arrived of his own accord.
"Ready to order, mademoiselles?" he asked, in some fake-sounding accent.
"Yeah, I'll have the smoked kippers and scrambled eggs," Sarah said. "How about you, Pai?"
Pai, licked her lips, thinking more about how Sarah's order might taste on its second serving than her own. But she did have some idea of what she might venture.
"It's all seafood here? A lot of shellfish, it seems like?" she asked, only roughly grasping the description of many of the dishes.
"Uh-huh, they're kind of specialists. You don't have any allergies do you, honey?"
Not really, no. But she did have a kinky idea. She pouted and pulled her eyes wide open.
"I can't really eat shellfish...it goes right through me!" Pai whispered to Sarah with a faux-worried expression.
Then, before Sarah could reply, she turned to the waiter, and said, in a calm and matter-of-fact way: "Yes, I'd like the black pepper crab, please."
Sarah just burst out laughing, with Pai soon joining her.
"Glad...to see you are enjoying yourselves tonight, ladies," the waiter said, leaving with a perplexed expression.
Like Sarah, Pai gave her best innocent little smile, all the time thinking, oh, you have no idea how much we will.
When they had recovered from their bout of filthy giggles and were alone again, Sarah leaned forward and circled the rim of her champagne glass with a red-tipped finger.
"So..." she said,
