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Call Me Pixie: Part Two

Call Me Pixie: Part Two

From the seduction to the bedroom

I adore oysters. There is something about eating them that reminds me of eating pussy. That is the aphrodisiac element for me.

As I slurped each one, swallowing whole, Emily watched me.

‘Pixie, if you eat me with the enthusiasm you bring to those oysters, you may need to scrape me off the ceiling. Watching your velvet tongue darting in and out is making me wet.’

She said it with such filthy relish, that she made me wet. She oozed (and that was the right word) eroticism. I felt her stockinged foot tease mine. That was all I needed, footsie under the table, and oysters, and that look she was giving me.

I was sure that by now my face was beetroot coloured. The grin she was giving me suggested she knew the effect she was having.

She carried on teasing me as the waiter came to remove the plates and finger bowls. She flashed him a devastating smile, which had him positively simpering. Whoever Emily was, she knew the effect she had on others, men and women, and she enjoyed her power.

I must have missed her ordering more wine, as two more Kir Royales turned up.

‘I bet your pussy is that colour, you naughty little Pixie.’

Oh. My. Goodness. Each word formed in my head, separately. It grew large, filling the available space. It was succeeded by another, then another. It was as though there was a short-circuit in my brain.

I was looking straight down the generous cleavage revealed by her tight cream dress. Closely fitted around the breasts and waist, it emphasized her sexiness. It flared at the hips, drawing attention to a nearly perfect figure. Just what such a gorgeous creature wanted with a flat-chested midget was anyone’s guess. There were not exactly any more competitors for her attention. The waiter kept eyeing her up, when he thought on one was looking. But since I was doing the same, who was I to complain?

‘You know, Pixie, I would love to bury you in my breasts, smothering you. I could fit most of you in there.’ Again, that laugh.

At that point I was saved by the waiter.

The mussels were good, succulent. But again, the resemblance to pussy discommoded me. She was grinning as she ate her steak.

‘Could you actually have chosen anything more suggestive to eat, you naughty little Pixie?’

Every time she called me ‘Pixie,’ a jolt went somewhere very personal. I was conscious that my knickers were now very wet.

‘I suppose I could have gone for rare steak, brown on the outside and pink in the middle?’ I teased back.

‘That would do me, Pixie. I bet your knickers are soaked?’

There she went again.

It was as though the usual rules of conversation did not apply. At any rate, her highly suggestive and sexually explicit conversation was driving me wild. Wild might not be good, my subconscious reflected. What if she drew out of my secret places things hidden even to me? It felt like that could happen. I gave a shiver.

‘Am I getting to you, you dirty little Pixie?’

I looked beseechingly at her.

‘You do realise that every time you call me “Pixie” my knickers get wetter?’

‘And why is that, Pixie?’

‘It makes me feel so submissive, humiliated, excited.’

‘And which of those don’t you like?’ She paused. ‘Pixie?’

I was licking my fingers, and blushed.

‘You know that all of them turn me on,’ I replied.

‘I’d hate to think I was wasting my time, Pixie. Now take a long suck on those fingers, as though they had been in your pussy – or mine. They will soon be in both.’

Her smile made me even more excited. She was undressing me with her mind’s eye. I felt naked already.

She signed to the waiter, who, ever-attentive, came over at once. He brought the bill, she signed it.

‘My treat, Pixie. Now, here’s my room’s spare key card, get into my room, strip and be naked, kneeling by the door. I will arrive at some point. If you need, you may dip your finger into your pussy and coat your nipples for me. But no masturbating. Understood?’

I could not believe she had just said all that. I nodded, blushing deeply.

‘Yes, Miss.’

The “Miss” just slipped out. I had not meant to say it. I was not generally submissive, but she made me feel like I was hers.

‘Up you get, Pixie.’

I stood up. She patted my bottom – hard.

‘Off you go, nude and ready.’

I went out. The waiter smiled at me. He knew.

As I stood in the lift, I wondered what the hell I had done, or, indeed, was doing. But the wetness between my legs made me shiver, and reminded me of what I wanted.

I walked down the corridor. It all seemed so normal. But I was going to do something I had never done before.

I found the room. I keyed the card. I went in.

Quickly looking round, there was nothing to distinguish it from my own standard hotel room. But, without hesitation, I pulled my dress off, folded it and put it on the chair. Looking across I saw this diminutive figure, yellow knickers, no bra. Slowly, sensuously, I slipped my knickers across my bum cheeks, lowering them. Once they were off, I put them with my dress.

I sighed. How could she want me?

I knelt. My nipples were hardening. I touched my pussy. It was dripping. I coated my nipples. I gave a little moan.

And, kneeling, I waited.


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