The Birthday Present.

Image from dark side of the mind

“I have a present for you,” she tells her brother, when the con­ver­sa­tion fal­ters and silence starts to fill the spaces in the room. “Do you remem­ber Sophie?”

He looks puz­zled for a moment, search­ing his mem­ory for a trace of recog­ni­tion. “Sophie? Wasn’t she the lit­tle girl you ran around with when we were kids? One of your school­mates or some­thing? Always run­ning around here with big wide cow eyes…too fright­ened to say a word?” His fore­head crin­kles as he pulls the long-forgotten mem­o­ries free. “Kind of pretty…? Wait. A present?”

She watches him puz­zle the name over, a smile play­ing across her lips. “That was her. She always had the biggest crush on you. I’m sur­prised you don’t remem­ber her — she never for­got you.” She snaps her fin­gers, and a fig­ure rises from the dark­ened cor­ner, has­ten­ing towards her, to kneel at her feet.

He has an impres­sion of long dark hair, glis­ten­ing dark eyes and dusky skin over abun­dant curves. A sin­gle strip of rib­bon wraps her body, cov­er­ing noth­ing, and accen­tu­at­ing her vul­ner­a­ble state of naked­ness. A high pink blush cov­ers her cheeks, col­or­ing the rise of her chest, high­light­ing the curve of her belly. Very dif­fer­ent than the shy girl he remem­bers, always so prop­erly turned out in dresses with proper white tights.

She looks down at the girl kneel­ing at her feet, the cruel smile twist­ing her lovely fea­tures. She lashes out with one beau­ti­fully shod foot, strik­ing the kneel­ing girl in the shoul­der and knock­ing her off bal­ance. The girl cries out, sti­fling the noise as quickly as it escapes, tears welling in the dark eyes. She kicks the girl’s legs apart, expos­ing her vul­ner­a­ble pink flesh. With the toe of one shoe cau­tion­ing her to keep her thighs open, she slides the toe of the other shoe over the girl’s already slick cunt. “She’s a slutty lit­tle bitch — I think you’ll like her. I’ve trained her well.”

The tip of the pointed black toe dis­ap­pears between pouty lips, slid­ing in almost to the instep while the girl’s eyes widen and her mouth opens in a silent moan. She casu­ally with­draws her shoe, lift­ing it to the girl’s mouth, order­ing her in a bored tone to “clean it”. A pink kit­ten tongue emerges between lush lips, clean­ing the glis­ten­ing black pump, tast­ing her own excesses while her cheeks flame red beneath his gaze.

“What else can she do?” he asks his sis­ter, eyes fixed upon the naked girl on the floor between them, even as they both speak as though she’s not even there.

“She’s been put through full slave train­ing, all the basics. I have taken some addi­tional lib­er­ties — I think you’ll enjoy her. She’s in love with you, you know.” She forces the shoe in deeper, stretch­ing the girl’s mouth into an uncom­fort­ably wide grimace.”“I hope you haven’t ruined another pair of shoes, you filthy lit­tle bitch!”

He stands up, cir­cling the prone girl, exam­in­ing her from every angle. “In love with me?” he says aloud. “Just imag­ine the kinds of things that some­one would do for you…if they were in love with you. They would do…”

“Any­thing?” his sis­ter fin­ishes his sen­tence. “Yes, she would do anything.”

He reaches down, bury­ing his hand in the girl’s thick dark hair. Clos­ing his fin­gers into a fist, he draws her to her feet, then to her tip-toes in front of him, her entire weight in the palm of his hand. His sis­ter smiles, com­ing to kiss him on the cheek before with­draw­ing from the room, to leave him with his present.

He smiles wolfishly at the girl trem­bling in front of him, swip­ing his other hand between her legs, feel­ing her wet­ness. He brings his fin­gers to his nose, inhal­ing the scent of her arousal. “I think I’m going to enjoy this birthday.”

He slaps her full across the face, then smears her juices across the red mark left behind. Slid­ing his hand down her body, he closes his fin­gers over one full breast, crush­ing the soft flesh until the tears welling in her eyes spill down her cheek. Lean­ing for­ward to lick the salty drop with the tip of his tongue, he mur­murs, “I can only hope you enjoy this, too.”