Angel, Demons Pt. 01

"Tell her, pet," she said, smiling. The creature called pet swallowed hard.

"I wish I were, ma'am," it then said, rather hoarse. "I really wish I could become her slave girl. But there is still a very long way for me to go." It swallowed again. Then it hid its blushing face behind the black folds of its mistress's skirt.

The woman laughed and fondly pressed the blonde, short-cropped head into her thigh.

"Good girl, sweet little toy," she whispered. "Well done."

"I'll be a mistress too," BB blurted out. The woman looked up and smiled.

"Of course," she said.

The woman's face hardened.

"Do you doubt it?" she asked. "Do you think I can't do it?"

The corseted woman leaned back, yielding from the sudden aggression.

"Of course, you can," she muttered. "I'm sure."

She took a sip of her champagne. It had turned luke-warm, so she traded it in for a fresh glass on the tray of the long-legged waitress just passing by.

When she looked back again, BB had gone.

"Strange girls here," she murmured to herself. "Nice tits though." And she went looking for a place to sit, away from the throng.

She found a chair in a quiet corner.

Her hand rested on the short, white-blond hair of her leashed toy, now kneeling by her feet. She felt surprisingly strong fingers massaging her left calf where it escaped the split in her skirt. She smiled, leaning over and whispering.

Then she kicked off her left high-heeled sandal, wriggling the painted toes.

The petite blonde smiled up at her.

Its eyes were as pale as a winter's sky. It mouthed a silent thank-you and bent down to bring its face to the naked foot. A narrow tongue darted from between its lips, touching the big toe, curling around it, and making the purple polish shine. Then it ran up and down the white-and-purple keyboard of smaller toes, moving like the wet finger of a virtuoso piano player.

The woman absent-mindedly patted the pet's raised ass. The tight cheeks were oiled and naked -- very naked.

A hush descended on the room when most eyes gradually discovered the licking creature.

The woman ignored them. Her head leaned back as she stretched her leg, wriggling her toes. A soft moan betrayed how much she enjoyed the tongue and the fondling fingers.

***

A girl, introduced.

The girl arrived late at the club.

She'd had to find excuses to get around business deadlines -- and around her girlfriend -- to even make it here. She shook her head to get rid of the questions she'd seen in the beautiful eyes of her lover. She knew she shouldn't be here. It would never be worth the constant little lies.

But she also knew she was perfectly unable to stay away.

After handing her cute raincoat to the wardrobe girl, she entered the restroom to brush her hair, making it fall around her face in shining waves. She checked her make-up and her new, satiny red blouse. It formed a generous V where it wrapped around her chest.

It was what she fondly called her favorite sexy club blouse.

Its slippery fabric caressed her skin. Her nipples tightened inside her bra as she watched her eyes in the mirror. They sparkled with breathless expectation.

Entering the bar, she walked into a throng of women.

Being petite, she rose on tiptoes to see what they were looking at. It must be the woman sitting at a table in a corner of the bar. She was new, dressed in black, and she looked like no one the girl had ever seen.

She looked -- forbidding.

Her chalk white skin was in harsh contrast with the black of her outfit. Was it leather? My god, yes, it was a leather corset, tight and Victorian.

Who on earth wore that anymore?

The straight black bob of her hair was a perfectly dramatic frame for clear green eyes. Her lips were painted purple.

"Who's she?" the girl asked the girl next to her.

"Dunno," she said. "But look, down by her feet!"

She struggled through the group to see a creature kneeling in front of the corseted woman. She was a girl, wasn't she? But she looked boyish, with her narrow frame and short, whitish-blond hair. Her bare skin shone pale against the dark backdrop of the woman's skirt. A strip of leather encircled her throat like a slash. A leash was attached to it, running from the collar to the woman's hand.

"Like a dog!" she thought. The notion made her swallow.

The creature's head was close to the woman's bare foot. The high-heeled sandal had come off. My god, it was licking her toes! A cloud of heat rose from her chest as she watched the pink tongue run the length of the foot's arch, then up the ankle, circling its delicate bone.

So... degrading.

She couldn't look away when the creature's lips engulfed all toes at once, taking the foot in until its cheeks bulged. A hot, incredible feeling exploded inside her, laced with vicarious shame -- and another emotion that caused even more embarrassment.

She saw how the woman in black caressed the high, naked ass of her pet, as it leaned down low to pleasure her foot. Her fondling fingers were studded with rings, the nails painted purple, like her lips.

The leash stretched and relaxed, following the bobbing of the sucking head.

"My god," she murmured again, not able to look away.

Covering her mouth, but not her eyes, she felt a sudden weakness in her knees; it made her want to sink to the floor. Her vision turned hazy with the fluttering of her lashes. She saw a woman and her child. A child? The image seemed to morph into something different altogether -- something ... holy? A perverted Mother and Child?

Holy, she thought?

A shiver caressed her spine.

How could she even think that? And worse -- how could her heart suddenly envy that bound and gagging creature? How could she even look at it? She was a girl raised with rules and religion. How could she feel the disgusting wish to be the one kneeling, sucking the kinky woman's toes, unashamed and in public?

And yet, she did.

She'd never even dreamt of anything like this. How could she stand it; even pause to consider it?

And what about the pet?

How could she do it? She must be forced, or paid; or did she need this? Did she even know how degrading it was? She'd heard about these things, seen awful clips on the Internet. Girls needing pain, humiliation.

Begging to be bound and flogged.

She'd always thought the clips were staged -- the girls must surely be paid to follow scripts of male producers to serve an overheated audience. But she'd also wondered why her pussy wept whenever she watched those videos -- hating what she saw and yet getting aroused.

The woman in black let out a throaty laugh.

She leaned forward, touching the blonde's head. Her wet foot slipped out of the stretched mouth. Then she spread her thighs, opening her skirt with her free hand. She nodded at her toy, smiling encouragingly. The petite blonde gave a silvery cry of delight and slid between the legs, spreading them wider with her hands.

And then the watching girl saw it, in a flash.

Between the tight, slender ass cheeks of the girl dangled a cock -- tiny and soft, but a real penis.

The girl wasn't a girl at all.

She wondered if anyone else had seen it; it happened so fast, before the black skirt closed around the body. Too fast even to point and cry out, while a sudden dizziness entered her mind.

A covered bulge at the center of the woman's lap bobbed, making the leash slip in and out of the skirt's slit. Two naked feet peeped out from under the hem.

The watching girl's eyes burned from sheer staring.

Here was a woman drinking white wine, casually looking around, being watched by a throng of women, while a leashed, collared and utterly subdued... sex thing... lapped at her vagina and no doubt sucked on her clit to get her off -- in public.

It was wrong, surely.

Wrong to do it, but also wrong to watch and not protest. It was totally wrong and despicable. Treating a... human being like this, turning it into the lowest of animals -- whatever kind of unnatural, pitiful creature it might be.

It was evil.

But maybe the evilest thing about it was how it made her feel. How it sent her hand up her bare leg and into her crotch, pushing her skirt up to find the swamp of her drenched panties.

***

A girl, observed.

Ever since she'd found this club, the girl had wondered why it was so easy to walk in and slip into a relaxed and carefree mode -- so very different from her uptight, adult daily self.

It was like... like stepping into a hot Jacuzzi -- naked.

Sitting at the bar, alone, sipping her third wine, her memory took her back to another recent afternoon -- and to a real bubble bath filled with foam and horny girls.

The room had been steamed up.

She remembered wet, slippery bodies chasing each other like pink phantoms in the mist. There was a storm of giggles and clouds of foam flying around like angel wings. Panting and gasping they'd at last dropped into a heap of pink flesh, wet hands groping, mouths kissing.

So easy.

She remembered how one ash-blond woman -- what was her name again? -- strong and tall like an amazon, had taken her in her arms and kissed her, calling her silly names. Then they both took hands full of bubbles and plastered them to their heads and faces, crying out that they were bubble monsters, chasing the others.

Then the big blonde had topped the girl's head with a sparkling mountain of foam and knelt before her, mockingly crowning her Empress, queen of Rome.

They giggled at the silliness, and dug up crazy plays on words. As part of the game they threw Christian slave girls to the lions while the Empress regally but cruelly turned her thumb down on them. The other girls, sloshing around in the water, were supposed to be the slave girls, while the tall blonde would be the lion.

"Slave meat -- hmmm, hmmm, delicious slave meat!!" the blonde had growled with a deep monster voice. She made horns of her fingers and charged into the would-be slaves, who fell back into the water, screaming with laughter.

Then the blonde woman scooped up the Empress and whispered:

"Please, allow your unworthy but very hungry little slave-lion to eat from the sweet fountain of your abundance, oh Empress of Rome."

And she dove between the girl's thighs to suck on her slippery pussy.

A green-eyed woman looked on from behind a curtain of steam, wrapped in shadows, and a big white towel.

Her lashes fluttered once as the girl cried out in ecstasy.

***

A girl, hunted.

"Can I see your tits?" the auburn-haired woman asked.

The girl giggled, slightly drunk. She'd never seen the woman before at the club -- wide-shouldered and tall, with wavy hair. She was in her forties, maybe, but the skin of her face seemed smooth and spotless, although her abundant make-up might explain that.

Her eyes were a sparkling blue. Big, high breasts pushed out the front of her nurse's uniform -- aggressively, almost intimidating.

The girl automatically covered her own chest with her hands before answering. "No, you can't. I promised not to."

But her eyes shone wickedly.

She'd never seen the woman before. They'd been flirting for an hour by then, just like always, at lazy bar afternoons. The woman had ordered a bottle of red wine that was almost empty by now.

She'd introduced herself and told her that she was a nurse, who'd come directly from the hospital to relax and have a drink before going home.

"Whom did you promise it to?" she asked.

"My fi-an-cee," the girl said proudly, stretching the word with a little slur, giggling. Her eyelashes fluttered and she held her head askance with coquettish affection.

"Wow," the woman said, waving her fingers. "You have a true blue fi-an-cee?"

They both crumbled into a tipsy heap of laughter.

"C'mon," the woman said after they recovered. "You can show me your titties. No harm done by showing; I'm a nurse, for gossake."

The girl looked around. Then her fingers found the second and third button on her blouse, opening them.

"They are not at all like yours," she said, hesitating at the fourth button.

The nurse looked down on her generous rack. Then she smiled. "Nothing to be jealous of, honey. I bet yours are lovelier."

The girl had by then opened the last button, holding both parts of the blouse closed. "Just a flash, no more," she said, whispering. "I don't want to see her hurt."

"Of course," the woman said, nodding. "Just a teeny-weeny look." It made them both laugh again and it took a while for the girl to sit straight and open her blouse.

"Lovely bra," the woman said. "Powder blue. Classy."

She reached out to open the gap wider. The girl didn't stop her. She just sat blushing, her lace-covered chest in full view.

She let the nurse's fingers trace the cups, shivering as they touched a nipple. So bad, so nice. The wine's buzz filled her head, and she moaned, closing her eyes when one flimsy cup was pushed up, making her breast fall out.

"So cute," the nurse's voice said from a distance.

Warm, moist flesh slipped over the exposed nipple, raising goose bumps on the girl's skin. Then she opened her eyes, struggling with their focus.

A woman walked straight into her view -- a black-haired, pale-skinned woman. As she walked closer, in an elegant, tightly cut jacket and skirt, her green eyes caught the girl's, attracting them, capturing them.

A disturbing panic penetrated the girl's drunken haze.

She pushed away the nurse's face and covered her breast. Then she closed her blouse and rose from her chair, making its legs screech on the floor. Mumbling unintelligible excuses, she stumbled past chairs and tables until she found the exit.

The nurse at the table shrugged and grinned. As she looked up, she met the gaze of the black-haired woman. She chuckled.

"Naughty girl," she said, discreetly adjusting the swollen cock that pushed against her skirt before she rose.

The woman didn't laugh with her.

The nurse grabbed her purse and left on high, wobbly heels.

***

A girl, kissed.

She shifted in her seat, hoping her skirt wouldn't stain from her weeping pussy.

She should have worn panties, shit, even a pad. Being at this place always made her so damn wet. Just walking into the bar, no, just anticipating going there, was enough to get her leaking.

Last night at home, she'd made sweet love to her girlfriend, tender love. But to climax, she'd had to imagine the two of them here, at the bar, her girlfriend kneeling like the blond pet she remembered -- the one sucking the woman's feet, and her pussy. She smiled ruefully. Bringing her girlfriend here would be unthinkable.

She'd have a heart attack.

The girl stealthily picked a paper napkin from the table. She stuffed it in her pussy and let her fingers linger -- dreaming.

Her first months at this new place had been crazy.

She'd met new faces, found new sensations. As she looked back her memories were constantly wrapped in a pink cloud of excitement -- and alcohol. At first, she'd spent almost every night in here. The girls were scandalously open, some walking around naked, others coming on so strong they made her gasp.

It had been easy to give in.

Then there'd been the woman in black leather with the slave creature on a leash, a week ago. My god, had the two of them been kinky -- wrong of course, all the girls agreed, totally immoral.

But so very disturbingly sexy.

Back home she'd downloaded videos and pictures on her computer, watching naked girls being bound, whipped and abused. Some of them were led around on a chain at a party, with all the other guests fully clothed in tuxedos and gowns -- forced to suck cock and eat pussy.

She'd felt the humiliation as if she herself had been one of them, and it made her come hard in the safety of her room. It had fueled her fantasies, both here and in bed with her blessedly ignorant lover.

The girl sighed, removing her fingers from under her skirt.

She tried to inconspicuously smell their tips, wondering where to go with her horniness. As if on cue the woman of the leashed pet entered the bar.

She was alone, and not wearing a corset -- or a jacket either.

In fact, she only wore a black silk camisole top with spaghetti straps. Below it was a tight, knee-length pencil skirt. Black classic nylons hugged her calves, ending in pointed ankle boots.

Her skin was a ghostly white; her hair as black and her mouth as purple as she recalled.

The girl's eyes followed the woman as she walked gracefully past and around chairs, sofas and pillows, moving like a catwalk model -- her free nipples nudging the top's thin fabric.

She walked like a cat indeed.

Reaching a corner, she sat down in the half-shadows cast by an overhead balcony. There was a single candle on her table -- its yellow flame dancing before her. It looked like a little luring spirit, the girl mused, a will o' the whisp.

She wondered why she'd think that.

She also noticed she hadn't breathed for a bit and let the air out. Looking up she froze -- the woman's eyes were on her.

They stared clear and steady, arresting her thoughts.

Knowing that her spying had been found out, she felt the heat of a blush rise from her throat. A sly smile lifted the corners of the woman's lips. Then a waitress eclipsed her, putting a large pot of tea and two china cups on the table. The woman whispered something to her.

The waitress smiled, nodded and walked over to the girl.

"The lady at the table below the balcony wonders if you'd like to have a cup of afternoon tea with her?"

She saw the woman at the table mouth the word "please", followed by a flashing smile. Very conscious of herself, the girl rose from her chair, adjusting her creased skirt, checking it for dampness. Then she walked the few steps over, careful not to lose the napkin stuffed inside her.

When she arrived, she noticed that the left strap of the woman's camisole had slipped, almost exposing a nipple. The girl tried to keep her eyes away from it as she extended her hand and mentioned her name.

"Pleased to meet you."

The woman's hand was cool and there was strength below the soft skin -- quite a bit of it too. Her name sounded exotic.

She chuckled and lifted the teapot.

"Shall I pour you a cup, honey?"

The girl nodded and watched the long-fingered hands handle the pot with elegance, one holding the grip, the other checking the lid. She noted that all the rings had vanished but for one that held an emerald.

Looking up she saw how it matched the eyes.

After pouring two cups, the woman nonchalantly replaced the slipped strap and pointed out a chair.

"Please, sit down, honey," she said. "I bet you're not the cake or muffin type, are you?

"Should I ask for any?"

The repeated "honey" disturbed the girl with its casual intimacy, while at the same time spreading a delicious glow throughout her body. Every time they met, this woman seemed to stir conflicting emotions.

Then, as if to confirm that thought, she surprised her with a loud, throaty laugh.

"Damn, girl! It's only me," she said. "Sit down and tell me how you're doing, for god's sake. I have seen you in here flitting around like a butterfly and having fun for three -- with three.

"Now don't you go and get shy on me!"

The girl sat down, smiling with a tremble in her lips. She felt the tea's heat inside the little nest of her hands.

"Sorry," she said. "But you were rather intimidating, last week."

The woman laughed again.

"Intimidating," she repeated. "Really. Did I scare you?"

The girl nodded.

"A bit."

The woman just smiled, turning to the cup she held with the tips of her fingers, softly blowing on it.