Satan’s Little Sister

An excerpt from Satan's Little Sister

"Come to me," she said languidly. The thickly-accented words echoes in his head, confused him, made him weak.

"Come to me."

Mack went forward, half stumbling. "Yes, mistress." She seemed to glow. Her lustrous black tresses fell about her face like a rich ebony frame on an ancient painting. Her face was a shining mask of beauty and attraction. Her breasts were barely contained in a black brassiere, and the negligee she wore loosely around her did nothing to conceal her alabaster flesh beneath.

"Do you want to be my lover?" Her words were like the tones of a gong, precise and articulate, sonorous and lingering. Mack seemed to feel them in his chest.

"Yes."

Her eyes were like glittering jewels. "Bring the payroll boxes to me," she commanded.

The man before her, kneeling, gazing up at her with the glassy look of all men when in thrall to her, nodded slowly. "Yes, mistress."

The dark woman smiled. "First," she said, "you will pleasure me." She lay back in her cushions and opened her negligee, revealing the black lace panties, cut high on the thigh in the European style, barely concealing the dark thatch of sin between ther thighs.

"Yes, mistress," Mack gushed. He pulled at his clothes without question.

"With your tongue," the she-devil sneered.