Madame B - Seduction

We kissed again, the hard buds of her nipples rubbing deliciously against mine, our tits pressing together as our bodies moved in closer and tighter. I helped Kim to wriggle out of her clothes, tugging at her pants and frantically pulling at her panties until we were both naked, my waxed, smooth pussy enjoying the friction as I rubbed it against her neatly trimmed bush, our juices mingling. Her hands trailed lightly up and down my spine, making me shiver with desire.

Kim took charge now, leading me by the hand to the bed. We collapsed on the rumpled bedclothes, a tangle of sheets, tits, arms, and legs, every inch of my skin on fire. She lay on top of me, the light weight of her body pinning me down. Hoping that she would follow my lead, I slid my hand between her legs, which she spread eagerly. For the first time in my life I was touching another woman's pussy, and it felt soft, wet, warm, and welcoming. With my thumb gently flicking Kim's clitoris, I used my fingers to trace the outline of her pussy lips before sliding a couple of fingers inside her tight, wet hole. She whimpered with pleasure, biting down on my shoulder and shuddering as her sex quivered around my fingers. I pulled my hand away, using her natural juices to moisten her clitoris so that I could rub it harder, faster. To my delight, the little bud grew even more swollen under my touch. The harder I rubbed her clit, the more I wanted her to touch mine.

As if reading my mind, Kim pulled away and laid on her back, her pussy making a delicate kissing noise as she slithered away from my fingers. I put my hand to my nose and breathed in her scent, far more arousing and enticing than any manufactured perfume could ever be. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. When I opened them, Kim lay at my knees, strong wiry arms forcing my thighs apart. I felt my cunt pound in anticipation, so fast and hard that I was sure she could see it.

Kim licked every inch of my thighs, my slit, my pudenda. I'd had the whole area waxed a couple of days ago so the hairless mound was as sensitive to her touch as it could possibly be. I felt her lips, her tongue, the odd teasing tickle of her teeth as she devoured me.

I spread my legs, my proud, throbbing little clit protruding, begging for her attention. Kim went to work, making a little pointed rosebud of her tongue, which darted all over my clit. Never breaking contact between my pussy and her mouth, she turned her entire body around, swinging her leg over my shoulder so that her knees were on either side of my chest and her ass hovered a few inches over my breasts. Eagerly I licked my fingers and eased my hand through her parted thighs. I had easy access to her whole vulva, and I rubbed enthusiastically at her flesh, flicking her clit and fingering her slit. She bucked and writhed with pleasure as we both stepped up the pace, me jabbing at her with an excited hand, and she flicking her tongue all over my blissful pussy.

My body became a white ball of heat just waiting to explode as Kim's tongue teased and pleased me. She came first. Her body suddenly became motionless, and then, after a brief spasm, a warm trickle of her juices ran down the inside of my wrist. As she climaxed, she sucked hard on the tip of my clitoris, producing the most intense, exquisite tension I have ever known. When I let go and surrendered to my orgasm, my body went into meltdown.

Both spent by our climaxes, we drifted off to sleep on the bed. When I awoke, Kim was nuzzling at my breast with her perfect gamine pout.

"Ready for round two?" she said mischievously. I nodded, ready for the flick of her tongue, eager this time to taste as well as smell her.

"There's just one thing," she said. "The camera loves you. So it would be a terrible shame to waste this opportunity."

She leaped up, dashed across to the camera, and set it on auto. The random shutter clicks began as we reached for each other. I parted Kim's legs, stared at that beautiful pink pussy, and got ready to give the performance of a lifetime.

I met Polly, a beautiful British student, when she was waitressing in a restaurant in Oxford. Over coffee, she told me of an erotic encounter she'd had while working abroad in a very different kind of establishment. I found her story so arousing and inspiring that I rushed out and bought myself a whole wardrobe of fetish clothing the very next day. The kinky pleasures of a little leather and rubber against the skin will awaken dark desires in everyone. It worked for Polly, and it worked for me. Why not find out if it works for you, too? I sprinkle the talcum powder on my breasts, sides, and underarms so that my skin-tight latex top slides on easily. I pull it over my breasts, enjoying the sensation as my nipples disappear into the tight, suffocating, stretchy material. I love to dress for work in front of the mirror. Tonight, I'm wearing black. I study my reflection, legs apart, naked but for the black top that clings like a second skin, no, tighter than that, because tiny bulges of flesh spill over the top.

The first time I wore a dress made out of rubber was my first night working in the bar. I pulled it straight on, no baby powder and no oil to stop the material scraping my skin. It took a week for the red marks to fade. Not that it mattered much. The clients here like that sort of thing. My coal-dark, raven hair is cut into a precise Louise Brooks bob. My tidy little bush, trimmed with a razor this morning, is also jet-black. I look hot. It's almost a shame I have to put my skirt on, but even a club as liberal as mine doesn't let you serve drinks naked from the waist down.

I smile to myself at this as I zip up the black leather hot pants. They fasten at the sides, so they follow perfectly the curve of my hips. I don't wear panties beneath them; the shorts are so brief and tight that there isn't room for underwear. They would bunch and ruin the perfect smooth line. I like the way the leather sculpts my buttocks into a perfect, uninterrupted arc. And there's another reason why panties aren't an option under these hot pants. These shorts are lined with leather, and when I get wet, which happens a lot-I'm a very sexual person-the leather doesn't absorb my juices but lets them slide around, making me hotter and wetter.

I check my pedicure before pulling on my boots: lily-white feet bejeweled with scarlet-painted toes the same shade as my fingernails, which I keep short and neat. No one else will see my feet, but I like to know my look is perfect from head to toe. Only when I'm satisfied do the boots go on. Oh, these boots! I want to be buried in them. Black PVC, thigh-high, with silver stilettoes that make me walk with a wiggle, tits and ass sticking out for all to admire. As I zip them up, the cold plastic feels like a lover's caress on my calves.

I'm nearly ready to play. It's time for my finishing touch, my signature accessory: customized rubber gauntlets. They're like long evening gloves, but they don't cover my hands. Instead they bind me from wrist to upper arm. I made them myself from a length of rubber I bought in my favorite fetish shop. When I'm wearing them, I can't quite bend my arms properly. I love that tiny restriction; it means that I'm always focused on my job, that I never get to be totally at ease with my body. I feel my flesh begin to heat up. In a few minutes, the sweat underneath will have broken through the talcum powder, creating the delicious discomfort that won't end until I get out of my costume and into the shower at the end of my shift.

With a final glance in the mirror, I apply the red lipstick that says, "Fuck with me, but don't kiss me." I look angular, geometric. Sometimes I feel that the real pleasure is in putting the clothes on. Sure, I often meet guys I like the look of when I'm working, and God knows I get plenty of offers, but I love my job and I'd never do anything to jeopardize it. Work is work; I can find sex in my free time.