CHAPTER 18

I was seated across from Twylla, alone in the back of the stretch limo. She had replaced her customary neck-to-ankle tight black leather with a fancier, more revealing and sexier outfit.

She was still in black leather, and it still looked stunning with her dark red hair, lips, and nails. But she now wore a choker of diamonds on black wire around her neck, which was otherwise bare, and a low-cut sleeveless bustier. Her breasts were pushed up and out, more than half exposed, showing just a few millimeters of pink aureole.

Tattoos of darkly colorful naked women twined up from between and across her breasts, over her shoulders, down her back and most of the way down her arms. Their aquiline faces were contorted in ecstasy. Their hands terminated between the thighs of other tattooed women.

Twylla's bare midriff was covered with a single bold tattoo, in dark rose and light pink, of open labia, a glistening clitoris, and a yawning vagina centered on her navel, with a thorn at the bottom, from which dangled a single drop of scarlet blood.

Her black leather pants featured cutaway areas that showed off her calfs, inner thighs, and a small open circle at the center of her clean-shaven mons pubis. She had a little black whip curled up and attached to her belt

She held a thin leather-and-rhinestone leash in her left hand, attached to a leather collar, decorated in spikes and diamonds, around my bare neck.

I have to admit, volunteering as Twylla Van Dyke's unconditional sex slave for a night was arguably not my smartest decision ever. I can't even say that it seemed like a really good idea at the time. But part of me wanted it. The truth was, I would likely do whatever she asked anyway—she had that effect on me—and this put at least some limit on it. I didn't want to admit how turned on and wet it made me to think of letting her do whatever she wanted to with me, but I didn't have to. She knew.

So I was wearing a collar, a black domino over my eyes, a gauzy flesh-colored thong, platinum-and-diamond clips on my nipples, and nothing else. The downy hair on my mons was gone, shaven clean, exposing my pale pink flesh around the thong, which was narrow and tight enough that it passed between my labia in front and between my ass cheeks in back.

"I look like Princess Leia in this outfit," I grumbled.

"That was one of the few scenes in that testosterone-filled spill-ogy that I actually liked," she replied archly.

"Don't look so glum," she continued. "You're getting off easy. I almost kept you all to myself for a night in my dungeon. THAT would have been… interesting for you: to learn where pleasure and pain become one. Instead I'm just showing you off to impress a few people."

"How few?"

She fondled my crotch with the toe of her low, soft leather boots. I didn't want to enjoy it, but I couldn't help myself. It was Twylla's toe—it felt good. "Oh, a dozen or two. If we were in San Francisco or New York this would be real ball, with over a thousand Dom's, some with whole slave harems. As it is, it's not much more than a fancy potluck with twenty or so Doms, each with a favorite dish to share."

"Potluck? What dish?" There was nothing in the limo except Twylla and me.

"Oh, stop fretting. Where's your spirit of adventure, my bold little trollop? You're my dish, of course, but I'm only signed up for appetizers and dessert. I'm just sharing a little taste of you, to make the others jealous. You won't be anyone's main course but mine, little pussy. All mine." Her words made my girl parts tingle. It was warm in the limo, but I shivered anyway.

As we neared our destination, Twilla pulled on the leash to draw me near and unzipped a flap on her crotch that exposed her upper labia and clitoris. She wrapped her legs around my head.

"Make me cum, little pussy, and be quick about it. I want to make an entrance."

I thrust my tongue between her moist folds, hooking my tongue-tip under her swollen clit. I planted my lips on her bare mons and labia and sucked her outthrust clitoris into my mouth. Her familiar tart, winey flavor greeted me like an intoxicant, and I focused on the sensation of sucking and licking Twylla's sensitive genitals. I flicked my tongue rapidly up her clit face, launching it off her tip, repeating the motion as quickly as I could, while moving my whole mouth in slow circles, sucking her clit up and out in the same wide circles. I began to hum in pleasure.

The limo pulled up to the curb. "Not yet," Twilla grunted. I paused. "Not you, slut, god, don't stop now! I'm talking to the driver."

I buried my mouth in her mons again and slathered her clit with my saliva, licking and sucking while shaking my head from side to side.

"Oh, yes! Oh you cunt. You cunt. You sweet… now. Now! Both of you!"

I attacked her clit furiously and the limo door swung open as Twylla climaxed loudly with her thighs around my head. There were bright flashes and the sound of camera shutters clicking. Twylla unwrapped her legs, zipped up the flap over her clitoris, and gracefully stepped out onto the red carpet. She tugged gently on my leash and I followed at her side, on my hands and knees.

"Good girl." She petted my hair. "Roll over."

I was glad I had a domino protecting my anonymity. I obediently rolled onto my back and she stroked my belly. "GOOD pussy," she cooed. Her fingernails moved down my body, approaching my quim, and a trail of goose-flesh followed them. "So sensitive," she approved. "Come."

She strolled, swaying, into the ballroom as the doorman held the portal open, and I trailed on all fours like her faithful pet cum slut, trying to match the swing of my slender hips to hers.