Intro note: this story contains gratuitous content meant to satisfy adult fantasy, and not intended to be practiced, depicted or duplicated by actual persons. The author assumes no liability or responsibility for any harm, injury, irritation, angst, nightmares, or general perturbation which may result from this story (though
mast
urbation is quite truly a
nother
story). So there. Enjoy.
*****
Observance
It was late. A dark, wet night. The temperature was chilly, and the ground lay slick with the residue of a semi-fresh rain. The prevalence of showers was echoed by the wet
vroom
of one car and another. Trees were bare. Crickets were hard at work rubbing their knees together. The hands of time were lost somewhere in the twilight zone.
A young blonde made her way down the street. Her destinations were none, but her motivations manifold. Behind the façade of a beautiful countenance waited a dark, ominous presence. She operated on psychopathic tendencies. As was her icy, calculating, sinister nature, she thrived on the agony and suffering of others. She longed to inflict atrocity upon an innocent party. It simply felt so
good
to be bad. She got off—most figuratively and literally—on delicious cries begging for mercy. It was what she lived for. Evil had much to offer, and she drank it in like a thirsty kitten.
It had been a bit since her last session of Mistress and victim, and quite frankly, she was growing restless. Her cravings needed once more be satisfied. She hungered for someone new. Fresh. Pure. Somebody she could strip of wholesomeness and terrorize to her heart's content. She was blessed with the sort of porcelain face and delicate features for which
no
one would suspect her. She looked far too sweet; how could anyone with a face so lovely be guilty of such cruelty?
She smiled, scanning the rows of houses down each suburban street.
Ahhhh...
she thought. Each a potential juicy goosey ripe for the plucking. Now...which of these domiciles housed the beauty whose life she was to make a living hell?
It bore noting that she intended not outright harm or kill anyone. Such lack of imagination bored her. What really alit and delighted her was finding playful, innovative ways to torture someone: psychological games, confidence usurpation, gentle but deadly ordeals. She enjoyed toying with a victim's mind, keeping one on one's proverbial toes as well as making one miserable.
Now all she needed was said victim. She turned onto Williams Lane, keeping her senses alert. Midway down this street, she detected activity. She latched on to a nearby bush, crouched and retrieved her binoculars.
She gasped as the figure emerged. The first she beheld through the lenses was a head of shimmering golden hair, not unlike her own. It was indeed a fellow young woman. A gorgeous young woman. She determined after another moment that this precious fox had on a long-sleeved black top and matching leggings. In these dark garments, her movement was almost an illusion. Further examination revealed she was taking her garbage out to the can. A good sign, indicating she probably lived alone. An even finer detail presented itself one moment later. The young woman delicately stepped out to the pavement. Mistress' eyebrows jumped.
She was barefoot. Under the streetlight above, the dark ankle-hugging leggings perfectly showed off her sublimely naked feet. This proved significant to her elusive visitor for two reasons.
Gasp—how beautiful! Barefoot outside's often a sign of sensualism. She's probably a sensualist, like me,
and
she's vulnerable. Mmm, how I
love
vulnerable. Oh, a bit of fun I could have with her.
The occupant deposited her trash. But to Mistress' intrigue, she wasn't done. She produced a set of keys and pushed a remote button.
Chirp-chirp
said her car. She opened the door, retrieved something from the back seat, and then popped the trunk.
Ha! My goodness, if I didn't know better, I'd think she knew I was here and was teasing me. ...Now she's on her tippy-toes reaching into the trunk. Showing me one nice round ass, and the cute little bottoms of those vulnerable feet. Goddammit, she's taunting me and doesn't even know it. Not a smart move, love. Even if you do have no idea I'm here, not a smart move.
She waited for the young blonde woman to return inside her house.
The lights went out. The visitor snuck forth for a quick peek at the mailbox.
1142.
1142 Williams Lane.
Wonderful.
Soon enough then, my dear.
*****
Reconnaissance
The following sixteen waking hours were spent in pursuit of
quite
personal intel. The enchantress worked alone, and back at leisure in her lair, logged on to conduct her searches. Now that she had her target, she started as logical with the address. Recon could rival the act itself in terms of excitement, depending on the details she found.
A bit of preliminary digging revealed that the golden-tressed vixen was named Linny. Linny Ann Cardell.
Pretty name.
She toiled her way through one of Linny's social media to the other to the next. Speaking of pretty, the young woman herself was remarkably striking. She worked as maid to a wealthy socialite and played semi-pro softball. Also good signs: she was subservient, and—not to stereotype, but—very possibly gay. Otherwise, she was more or less the girl-next-door type: young, cute, friendly, optimistic, with a nice sense of humor and no significant other or children.
My god, she really is perfect.
Yet, she could not simply go and terrorize Miss Linny Cardell right this moment. The time was simply wrong, and aside from that, this naughty research had her libido humming. Something
else
needed be taken care of first. She couldn't be going off to have her fun with Linny and have then to stop and slake her own thirst; that wouldn't do at all.
She reclined in her making-love seat, a foxy image of Linny on her screen. She imagined that sweet, benevolent face coerced into crying anguish from her actions. Her own curled into a Grinchish evil smile.
She worked herself through ascending plateaus of pleasure, one by one. A warm blend of comfort and lust suffused her. Her cherry red nipples twitched forth from her heaving tits. Her cunt swelled with hot blood. Her paws slithered under her clothes to grope like mad. An invisible cauldron of passion bubbled around her.
"
Suffer, Linny, my little angel
," she mouthed to her soon-to-be friend. "
Suffer for me. Turn me on.
"
She burrowed two fingers into her pussy and pinched her tits harder. Pleasure built. She threw her head back, switching roles in her fantasy, now pretending she was Linny.
"
Nooo-o-o-o-o!
" she theatrically whisper-whined. "
Pleeeease!
"
Oh, it felt wonderful. Engaging in both roles made the experience just so real and sumptuous. This was going to be
sweet
.
"
You're mine, darling.
"
"
Oh no, please! Please let me go!
"
She grinned wickedly and chuckled. Her body brimmed and teemed with sizzle. She clawed furiously at herself, needing and really desiring no foreplay. She flung her head to the love seat. Her legs spastically kicked and jerked as she frigged, pinching her nips.
The first orgasm hit.
"
YEEEEEESSS!
" she cried. Her body flailed as she fought to maintain rhythm. Lightning struck her, one bolt after another. Her soul blew through the stratosphere at light speed as star after star of passion blasted her. Willing it never to end, she forced her mind to focus, and envisioned the tableau once more.
"
Please, please, NO!
" Linny'd beg.
"Ohhh
, yes
," she'd nod. After digging up all the dirt on her, she was beginning to devise a method of putting Linny Cardell through absolute hell. And it excited her. It was fun, flirty and playful—not unlike little Miss Linny herself—while still evil enough to plague her soul. And it turned the enchantress on as well.
She hit her g-spot. Orgasm two nailed her.
"
OHHHHHHHGOD!!
YEEEEEEEEESSSS!!
"
The sinister grin was pasted across her face and would not be diminished. She was lost in oblivion. The circumstance was unusual in that climax two was even more explosive than one. It was an insane mind-scrambler that only came along once in a while. She saw stars as if someone had landed her to the mat with a one-two punch. Her cunt drenched her forearm in musty, frothy cum. Her white panties turned a lovely transparent shade of gray. She felt her heart pound beneath her breast-clutching hand. It was incredible.
