Elizabeth stood fully naked, her full, supple breasts and large areolas silhouetted against the candlelight. Her body was aching for her fingers to return to her wetness, but she chose to deny herself for just a bit. On the bed lay the object of her attention. It was completely black yet it glistened in the flickering light. Slowly, gracefully, she slipped it on, pulling it as tight as she could manage. She loved this one, it fit perfectly. Her other corsets dug into her hips, but this one was longer, allowing her to sit if she needed to with less discomfort. The vinyl fabric formed a deep V at her breasts, pushing them together and upwards. It laced up not only in the front, but also on the sides, showing flashes of pale skin between the black laces, proving to everyone who saw her that there was only the thin vinyl coating separating her skin from their touch.
Once it was on securely, she reached down to her pussy once more. It was sopping wet with anticipation, at the thought of others seeing her in this, of being the object of such lustful desire. She wondered, absently, what her co-workers might think of this outfit. Yes, it was Goth night at their favorite club, but she still suspected her fellow party-goers would be in more...mild attire. She knew for sure that none of them would be wearing a collar, especially nothing like hers. It was small and black, save for the large silver lettering in all caps, stating simply "BAD KITTY". Oh, there had been others, some which said "SLAVE", others "SLUT", but none quite fit. No, this was what she would wear. Besides, it was an internship, not an actual job, so the opinions of her co-workers were ultimately irrelevant.
She teased herself a bit more in the mirror, the corset constricting her breathing as her intensity increased, resulting in an even greater high. Her fingers played across herself with skill, imagining another woman's touch running across her body. She nearly came, just then, but stopped herself just in time, her legs shaking, eyes watering. She wanted it so bad, and was never one to deny herself. But not now. She needed to feel this way in order to leave everything on, to make herself a Bad Kitty.
She finished dressing, completing the outfit with a short black skirt and vinyl overcoat. Her usual complexion, tinted with olive and radiance, was replaced with cover that was three shades too light, adding a touch of paleness to her face. She pursed her lips in satisfaction, her lipstick (dark red) perfectly applied. And finally, the finishing touch, she snapped on her collar. Looking at herself with satisfaction and giving her clit one final squeeze, she left her apartment.
The night was hot and humid. Her clothes stuck to her body quickly, almost melting on, becoming part of her. It was only a few blocks to the club, where her friends waited for her outside. As her black heels clicked smartly against the sidewalk, she reflected that she was a long way away from her internships and library readings, from her master's thesis and her late night studying. No, tonight she was going to be a Bad Kitty.
Her friend Jenna was the first to see her turn the corner of the block approaching the club. Jenna was built much like Liz, with large beautiful breasts and a curvy shape, was in fact wearing one of Liz's old corsets, having none of her own. Her mouth dropped open, and then closed tightly as Liz approached. For once, Jenna was at a loss for words, until she finally spoke.
"God, Liz. You look...hot." She said, in spit of herself. The rest of their friends turned, their own looks equally surprised. Meagan was first to speak, as she looked her friend up and down. "She's right," Meagan giggled her voice as small and petite as the rest of her.
Liz could only smile, and hope that the darkness hid her brilliant blush. They walked inside, the darkness of the club enveloping their figures.
Liz had been here before, so she knew what to expect. Black was the dominant color, although absently she noticed some crimson red scattered about. Most were dressed as any semi-serious once-a-week Goth student would be in a Midwestern town: Just enough to pass. A few were not dressed up at all (mostly men) wearing simply jeans and dark t-shirts. And then there were the regulars, the people who belonged here. There were leashes and collars-a few couples clearly dressed as master and slave-and plenty of body modifications to go around. And there was the familiar couple in latex body suits and six-inch platform heels. The music was suitably dark and techno, the drinks themed appropriately. But none of that is why she came.
Liz came to Goth night so that she could dress like a Bad Kitty, and so that as many people as possible could see her dark side. Absently, she could feel something wet trickling down her thigh: She had not worn underwear. Slowly, she became aware of Jenna beside her, speaking.
"...a drink?" She was asking.
"Sure," Liz replied, regaining her composure. She walked – no – strutted to the bar, and pushed through a light crowd. The bartender was bald and pierced heavily, his nose sporting several hoops through it. He looked her up and down.
"What'll it be?"
"Cum in a bathtub...four of them please," Liz smiled, in spit of herself. She was going for a certain look, and it wasn't supposed to involve happiness. The bartender nodded. They stood at the bar, waiting for their drinks, speaking into each other's ears over the music. Several times, Jenna would gesture to one guy or another with her eyes, indicating without words that he was checking Liz out. She would turn, asking: "which one" to which Meagan replied simply "all of them."
Whether true or not, the idea in and of itself made her hot. The vinyl was already sticking to her skin, but rather than being uncomfortable, it almost added a second layer to her body, as though she were naked. More quickly than usual, their drinks arrived.
"On the house," the bartender shouted, nodding at Liz. Her friends giggled slightly, taking their drinks and clinking them together before downing the shots in a single gulp.
"Now," Jenna said, her voice echoing in Liz's ear against the noise, "time to dance." They pushed their way out onto the dance floor, dark electronic music blaring as they began to move with the beat. The heat of her clothes was making Liz sweat, while her pussy continued to ache. She could feel the eyes of those around her looking her over, men and women soaking her in. She could feel their want. She felt a body against hers, and turned to see Jenna smiling, pressing ever so slightly against her ass, her hands finding their way around her waist. She nearly darted away, surprised, but stopped herself. Smiling back, she moved in rhythm with Jenna's hands, their hips touching, and then grinding against one another in a slow, deliberate rhythm. God, her pussy was on fire. And then the song stopped, and Jenna moved away, winking. Tease.
She slipped off the dance floor for another drink, and was just about to push her way through the crowd when a hand lightly pressed against her arm in an effort to get her attention. She turned once more, expecting to see Jenna smiling her teasing smile, but instead was greeted by a man, his face dark in the club's lighting. She looked him up and down quickly. He was not dressed as a regular, but rather wore a plain black shirt with black pants and boots. He had no piercings, nor visible tattoos. Immediately, however, her eyes went to his neck. He wore a studded collar, slightly thicker than her own. It looked out of place on the rest of him, and yet it gave him a certain air of respectability, in that he wasn't afraid to take a chance with his style. Perhaps he wasn't a regular Goth, but he was willing to be a bit daring. His hair was dyed black. He was holding something, and she looked down to see it was a drink, extended towards her.
"I know your drinks are free anyway," he said into her ear, "but I figured it would be a nice gesture, just the same."
She nodded at him, unsure what to say, speaking the only thing that made sense: "Thanks." She hesitated, holding it in her hand. She knew better than to drink anything a random stranger gave to her. He looked at her a moment, then down to the drink, and comprehension dawned on him. She smiled slightly as he looked from her to the drink, and back up, his eyes lingering over her breasts as they jutted out from under her corset.
"Well," he said at last, "It's the thought that counts, right?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes."
"Are you going to drink it?"
"I would rather not – I'm sorry."
"Sure," he said, and smiled halfheartedly. "Have a dance with me then, at least."
This took her by surprise. She had half expected him to turn away with embarrassment, but instead he was asking her to dance. No, he was leading her to the dance floor, having not even waited for a response. The drink had disappeared from her hand, and instead his hands were around her waist, and there they were, moving with the rhythm of the music once more. The strobe lights made it difficult for her to even focus on him, doubly so when he spun her around, rubbing against her from behind.
His forwardness surprised her...he had seemed so apologetic, so...nice. And yet here she was, involuntarily (at first) grinding against him, feeling his cock growing against her as he moved in rhythm. She looked to the left, and could see her friends dancing with others now, Jenna in particular being manhandled by several men, laughing as she did so. Jenna would flirt, she knew, and let the boys get nice and hard, but would leave alone at the end of the night. She had intended to do the same.
His hands reached upwards and downwards simultaneously, his left running up her stomach to her breast, pausing there, feeling her softness against the vinyl. His right hand went downward, quickly, and in no time she was gasping at his touch, protected only by the thin layer of her skirt.
She was moving with the heavy beat of the music, her legs shaking in her knee high boots, feeling his hands begin to move all over her body. He was touching her through her skirt, and she heard herself moaning against him, her body nearly out of control.
And then he reached under her skirt.
She shook at his touch. His hands knew exactly where to go, they found her wetness, and then pulled apart her pussy lips right there on the dance floor. She looked across from her, and Jenna staring at her, wide-eyed. She could barely believe it herself, and yet was unable to resist, to move away, or do anything other than crumple against him in ecstasy.
Elizabeth screamed in rhythm with the music. No one could hear, but he could feel her, and he knew exactly what he was doing. He could feel her quivering against him, and he could feel her pressing harder, demanding more, begging for it with her body.
And he obliged her.
