Downtown Glamazon

Downtown Glamazon

By Rain Slate

This story contains hella TW. Consent is always implied.

Look, I made a cute little playlist for the story. You can find the playlist on YouTube at: Downtown Glamazon Soundtrack

Songs that correlate with the story:

Tori Amos- Raspberry Swirl

Banks- Beggin for Thread

Lady Gaga- Just Dance

Switchblade Symphony- Wicked

Young M.A.- Bad Bitch Anthem

The Kills- Future Starts Slow

Uh Huh Her- Explode (second bathroom scene)

Uh Huh Her- Common Reaction

Peaches- Boys Wanna Be Her

Angie- Dope

Newlydeads- Terrible Lie

Bush- Comedown

Hole- Gold Dust Woman

Yoke Lore- Goodpain

Hole- Nobody's Daughter

Morgxn- Love You With The Lights On

Angie- Venus in Furs

Chelsea Wolfe- Spun

Live- Turn My Head

Downtown Glamazon

By Rain Slate

Freedom (this girl's name was literally Freedom) was walking on her way downtown with her friends. I passed them on my expensive black Retrospec bike that made me feel so fucking cool. Its vintage vibes called the attention of local lesbians when I rode past. It was a gift from a woman ten years older than me who used to come to my old, messy apartment just to coax the juice from my pussy and drink it hungrily on my shitty twin mattress on the floor of the living room. But that had been a few years prior. Many women had been blessed with my golden honey since Meredith, but the bicycle had basically been the only constant in my life for the previous four years.

But then came Freedom and her band of Glamazons. My fantasies about making Freedom beg me for pleasure and maybe even pain became one of the new constants in my life. My desire for her, to possess her, to make her mine, even just for one night, made me a little dizzy every time I thought about her.

The morning of the night it all happened, I'd woken up with a clear, vivid picture in my mind. I had strapped Freedom down to my bed with scary-looking but surprisingly soft and gentle leather cuffs. In my dream, she kept trying to wrap her legs around my neck, but all she could do was struggle. She wasn't whining because she wanted to be released from her bonds. She was whining because she was so desperate to come in my mouth, on my cock, to sit on my face. I don't think I had ever known a girl to be so desperate to christen me. She whined and squirmed in her sexy, expensive little black slip dress, which I had pulled up to her hips the moment she was secured to the cuffs. She begged and pleaded for release from the pumping, throbbing, pulsing agony that tortured her in between her legs and spread like lesbian glitter throughout her body. I sat up in bed immediately and said out loud, "Freedom begging for freedom." It was all I wanted- that, and to humble her. She and the Glamazons thought they ran our town. It was true, and that was all the more reason that I wanted to make her mine, make her feel vulnerable and desperate for the salvation that only my tongue, my fingers, my toys and my wicked words could bless her with.

Of all of the Glamazons, Freedom was clearly the High Priestess. She was the most beautiful, the most enchanting, and she could walk on the old cobblestone roads downtown in six-inch stilettos, drunk, without even missing a beat as she swung her hips from side to side. The other Glamazons were stunning, but none were as breathtaking, unapologetic, wild and, well, free, as Freedom.

All of the Glamazons were at least 5'8" and I never saw any of them in heels shorter than six inches.

Freedom lived across the street from me, as luck would have it. We had mutual friends but didn't really know each other and she was not a very friendly neighbor. The only thing on her mind was getting what she wanted. One thing that was never on her mind was bringing gift baskets to new neighbors. I liked the way she pretended to ignore me. I know she saw the way my eyes swept up her body viscerally when she was leaving for work and I just happened to be taking the trash out at 7:30 in the morning.

She was renting a tiny little yellow cottage with a white door. There was something so hot about her emerging from this precious granny cottage at the crack of dawn in black stilettos.

My favorite of her work outfits was red like fire, like what it probably felt like to touch her. To taste her would be a nuclear bomb and I would happily have given myself as an offering. It's hard to describe this outfit without drooling. But really, it was more than her outfits that got my blood pumping in all the best places.

Sometimes, she'd stumble out of her front door, hungover and still flawless, still slipping one heel onto her foot. Unfortunately, she only wore stockings with seams in the back when she was out at a bar. I loved the seams. I longed to run my fingers down them so lightly that she could feel that I was touching the seams of her stockings but couldn't actually feel my touch on her flesh.

My eyes moved up to her red pencil skirt. God, her legs were so long and her muscles were so tight and prominent from dancing all night, every night. Her muscles flexed as she climbed into her red corvette and started blasting "Just Dance" by Lady Gaga. It was her favorite song. The DJ she was fucking always played it when she walked into the club or the bar, which was cute, but otherwise, he was a total douche.

She had this red blazer that looked like it was made of satin, but was fitted instead of flowing. It was definitely tailored to her body. Her look was the perfect amount of classy so she could dominate the work world and the perfect amount of slutty that made me want to unwrap her like a gift on Lesbian Christmas. Under her blazers, she always wore a different colored chemise. My favorite one was black with a little lace on top.

This was the outfit she was wearing the morning of the best fucking night of my life. I came outside to throw the trash away specifically because I saw her wearing my favorite outfit. I just didn't even care anymore. I wanted her and she knew it. I heard that she was straight, but the look she gave me was not.

I had started wearing sexy pajamas: satin, black shorts and crop tops. Her eyes fixated on my exposed stomach in a way that was both animal and so quick that I thought I hallucinated it for a second. She never smiled at me. She was such a bitch, but I still wanted her to step on me with her stilettos, or her bare feet. Her toes were probably really long and sexy and most definitely painted red. I bet she wore toe rings. I loved that she always wore anklets. She was so strong and it felt so mysterious to see the little, gentle, subtle pieces of her.

That evening, I parked my bike in front of the house I was renting. It was cute. I rented the bottom half of the building. A spiral staircase led to the top half, which is where the gay couple who owned the house lived, but they were never there. They were usually at their house in Provincetown. I locked my bike, went inside and immediately went into the bathroom.

I exhaled a huge, huge breath as I stared myself down in the mirror. I knew I was going to see her tonight and I could NOT wait. It was like I could already feel her body pressed against mine. I wondered what she smelled like.

I stared at myself hard. I smirked. My hair already looked so fucking good. It was full lesbian style- pushed over to the side, my blonde hair coming down on the other side of my head in gentle waves. I didn't wash my hair because I didn't want to fuck it up. I did, however, scrub my body until my skin gleamed.

I jammed out to synth pop while I got dressed. I applied my makeup, dark and black so that I looked like a sexy raccoon, which was The look in 2009. I had just one cartilage piercing at the top of my left ear. I always kept a delicate silver ring in it. I thought it was so sexy. I loved when women wore earrings. I definitely had a fetish for earrings, although I still can't explain why. There's something about delicate earrings on a badass bitch that just does it for me.

Okay, what the fuck do I wear to impress this bitch queen? She made me feel so complicated inside. I wanted to worship at her altar. I also wanted to spank her with my leather strap. Still, I wanted all of the power. I mean, I always wanted all the power, but I especially wanted power over her.

I sprayed my naked body with a low-key, deep cedar and cream perfume. I slowly rubbed vanilla body butter on my legs and above my bald pussy. I slid an expensive pair of classy black shorts up my legs and ass. Classy enough to have martinis, trashy enough to fuck Freedom in the bathroom of the club.

I tucked a soft white button-down shirt into my shorts and unbuttoned it enough that my black, lacy bra was visible. My shoes were perfect. They were four inches tall and the fronts were sharply pointed, black and shiny. I threw a black jacket over my shirt and left as fast as I could.

My phone rang. "What's up, bitch?" I answered.

"Where the fuck are you?" yelled my stupid fuckin friend Taylor.

"I'm walking downtown. Why the fuck is it so loud? Where the fuck are you?"

"We're at Cross Street."

"Ugh, what a dive." I laughed. I loved that bar. "Who's with you?" I asked.

"Julian, Cassie, Nichelle, and Nyx."

"Oh my Goddess, fuck yeah!" Nyx was so sexy, so dark and goth. Depeche Mode was her favorite band. Her second favorite band was Switchblade Symphony. They were good. Whenever I hear their song "Wicked", it reminds me of Nyx and that wild time in my life. It reminds me of all the women I met when I was more wicked, wild and free. All of the women I had the pleasure to meet. The pleasure.

"We're not going to Cross Street tonight, bitch. Pay your tab."

"You're so demanding." She laughed.

"You always do what I want so you must not be that mad about it, right?" I said.

"You really wanna start this with me right now? Already trying to get me to fuck you?" She teased.

"Don't flatter yourself." I replied haughtily. But she was so sexy. She had a chapstick lesbian vibe. She was the kind of lesbian who dressed like she was always prepared for a softball game. But in a hot way. She was so chill and aloof- women ate it up, but not me; I made her work for my attention and she loved it.

"We're going to Verve." I said.

"Hmm," she paused, "This couldn't possibly be because Freedom is going tonight, could it?" Sarcastic bitch.

"Just pay your tab and meet me there."

"See you soon, Princess." She purred. God she was sexy.

The dance floor was packed but I saw Freedom right away. She was wearing a silver, satin romper and shoes that made her feet and legs look like they were in bondage and I was here for it.

She danced in the center of a circle of Glamazons. They orbited her. Her moves were wild, yet controlled. She never showed vulnerability. Even when she appeared vulnerable, she was always just topping from the bottom.

Her silky, shiny, chestnut hair swayed back and forth on the right side of her head as she leaned forward into the circle of her friends.

My attention was pulled away when Julian and Cassie approached me. They were both crabby, indie-rock lesbians in a pretty bad lo-fi band. They broke up and got back together all the time. They hated clubs unless they were underground. However, they still showed up every time we went out, even though they were grumbling and judging people most of the time.

"Bitches!" I yelled as I threw my arms around them in an excited hug they didn't want.

"So whose lives are you gonna ruin tonight?" Cassie asked me smarmily.

"If I knew, that would take the fun out of it, right?" I said, tickling the soft folds of her tummy until she slapped me. I could not stop laughing.

Freedom and the Glamazons were still down on the dance floor. I was up in the loft, looking down at her. She was somehow always drinking straight from a bottle of Dom Perignon and pouring it into the mouths of her friends. They accepted it from her so excitedly. She never handed anyone else the bottle; she would only pour it directly into their mouths and if they didn't like that, then more for her. But no one ever said no. It was an honor.

I was basically drooling because when my eyes focused, Freedom was staring at me with mischief in her eyes. Then she rolled her eyes and laughed. Everyone around her was so frenetic. Their desire to be around her was palpable.

Her lips were so red that night. They were a shade called Slut Red. I had some at home. I think she had put some lip plumper on because they were so shiny and full. She caught me looking at her again and she stared expressionless as if I meant nothing to her. She was challenging me.

"Hey cunts." Taylor said when she met us up in the loft. "Why didn't you check your phones? You knew I wasn't going to look for you in the loft right away."

"Because we're selfish." I said and we all laughed. Suddenly, Nichelle snuck up behind me and squeezed my breasts. "Nichelle!" I cried happily. I wrapped my arms around her neck and she pressed her tits against mine and squeezed my waist. My friends were all so fucking sexy.

"Yo, we're going downstairs to hang out with Amber and her friends. Let's go get a drink." She kissed my cheek and held my hand as we walked down the steps.

Taylor walked beside us, smirking at me. We all knew who Amber was- a Glamazon who Taylor had fucked a few times, but none of the other Glamazons fucked girls, as far as we knew. If they did, it was on the downlow.

"Lead us to the Glamazons!" She cried. Cassie and Julian followed morosely behind us. Julian had transitioned recently and Cassie had a lot of complicated feelings. But they were still there with us and I was happy to have them. After they got a few shots in them, they would chill out and maybe even dance.

Cassie and Julian both looked amazing. Cassie's hips were wide and her tits were huge. She had those 2009 bangs swept to the side and a huge septum ring. All her clothes were oversized and she always wore black Converse with no socks. I was beginning to think that my "type" was just "women" because I could see the smallest traits or gestures in a woman and immediately fall in love with her.

Julian had been working out and he looked so fine. I could see he'd been lifting weights. His arms were super buff. His pecs were big and he looked fine as hell with his short hair. I loved the way he stood. He was so casual.

Nichelle led us to the bar. She always dressed like it was 1975. Tonight, she was wearing a crocheted bra with long tassels. She leaned against the bar and was served immediately.

After we got our drinks, we made our way over to Amber and the Glamazons. I said hi to them, mostly just to Amber and Greta. Freedom leaned down to me and whispered, "I heard you've been talking shit about me. Let's take a shot."

"I have." I said. "You're snobby as fuck. What do you want? I'm buying."

"Crown. And you're just a regular bitch. You talk so much shit. But at least you're honest about it." She laughed.

"Oh be careful, you almost sound like you have a soul." I said.

"Never." She replied.

"The Crown will warm you up." I said.

"Here's to those who wish us well and those who don't can go to Hell!" Freedom yelled as she clinked her glass against mine.

I spent some time dancing with Nyx, loving the way her fishnets felt against my legs as she grinded her hips against me.

Taylor appeared behind my right shoulder like some kind of lesbian magic. "I just saw Freedom going into the bathroom. Just saying."

The bathroom was a one man show. I moved fast as fuck to catch up with her and literally "accidentally" bump into her.

"Sorry!" I cried, wrapping my right arm around her waist to steady her. I felt her lean into my touch.

"It's okay." She said, although she sounded a little irritated, which I found sexy. "If you have to pee, you can just come in with me." I followed her. She peed first. I looked her in her eyes through the mirror as she peed and asked, "You really hate me, huh?"

"Yes." She said, "You're dramatic and annoying as fuck." She stood up to put her romper back on. She was essentially naked. She was wearing exactly what I wanted her to be wearing. Her panties were black, lacy boy shorts that showed supple, tan cheeks.

"However, even I was surprised by her bra. It was black and mesh. It had really intense wire in it. Her tits were pushed all the way up, but they were totally uncovered. She pretended that there was nothing weird about it at all.

I watched her in the mirror while I peed. She reapplied her slutty red lipstick slowly, teasing me. I watched her add gloss and I wished I was gloss. "You're dramatic and annoying too." I snapped, but I really didn't care. We were playing with each other and the tension was delicious. I knew her black panties were wet just from flirting with me. I knew she got turned on by ignoring me when she knew I was watching.

Freedom moved her body wildly, fluidly. Her ass brushed just a little bit against the front of Nichelle's pants. I never saw Freedom grind up against anyone when she danced. She made everyone work for her attention, even when she was dancing.

"Freedom's talking shit about you." Cassie said as she approached me nursing a crown on the rocks.

"Why do you know that?" I asked.

"Freedom told Jenna and Jenna told Nichelle, Nichelle told Taylor and Taylor told me." She responded.

"I love a lesbian telephone chain." I said. "And who the fuck is Jenna?"

"One of the Glamazons. What are you going to do?

"About what? About her talking shit?" I asked.

"Yeah, what's your move?"

"Well, what did she say?" I asked.

"She said you make everything about you and think you can pull any girl you want."

"First of all," I said, "Everything IS about me." We both threw our heads back and laughed. We ordered two more shots of Crown.

Nyx and Nichelle join us. "She's jealous as fuck." Nyx said. "She's threatened by you."

"Right?!" Nichelle exclaimed. "She's bitching about you for all the same shit she does."

"Jealous as fuck." Nyx contributed.

"You know what I think?" I paused, "I think she's just looking for a reason to get close to me."

"She said it was tacky that you sold out Jenna and told Mark she was also hooking up with Grant." Cassie interjected.

"Oh that's why she's mad?" I laughed. "That's so fuckin stupid. I didn't even know it was a secret. That's just an excuse to get me to fight with her."

"I don't know if I should tell you that you're going to totally hook up with her or if she's going to blow you off because she's straight."

"It doesn't matter." I said as I began to walk away from the bar. "I'm gonna do whatever I want. And what I want is Freedom."

"Don't we all." said Nyx.

Our group of lesbians was dancing with the Glamazons. Men continuously tried to approach us, but we ignored them every single time, as if they weren't even there. I moved behind Freedom. I placed my hands gently on her hips. She whipped her hair around and smirked when she found me there.

She backed up a little so I could feel her warmth and smell her. Chanel No. 5. What a classy bitch. I drank in her scent greedily. She smelled like evil roses.

Just as I was really beginning to enjoy her sinewy performance and the way she backed into me and then pulled away instantly. She was making me crazy. I was about to give in and pull her close when she purposely whipped her hair around and hit me hard in the face without missing a beat of the music. She kept dancing. She thought she got away with it. Poor thing.

She was holding her crown and coke in the air as she teased me with her ass and hips. I especially loved when she pressed her back against my tits, my stomach, my pussy.

I almost forgot I needed to have a little chat with my favorite virtue. As she swayed her hair back and forth, I ran my right hand through it softly. When I got halfway down, I suddenly wrapped her long, silky hair tightly around my wrist and whipped her head back.