”“More you?” I repeated stupidly.She looked down at herself, sitting at the table. “Less… this,” she said, pointing at her black yoga pant... and white t-shirt. “I just hate this,” she finished.“You hate what you’re wearing?” I ventured, now completely lost.“I hate that I have to wear it,” Beth countered. “Before you moved in, I wore what I wanted. Or didn’t. Now, when you’re around, I have to put this stuff on all the time, and I just fucking hate it.”I took another sip of coffee and looked at. My whore!’Beth feels her legs weaken. Her aching nipples are standing taut. She stands and leans against the wall to steady herself as she speaks. “Yes, Mistress,” she says, trying hard to hide her smile. “I’m your slut, your whore.” With the words she feels another tingle of arousal piercing her.The tables have turned. She is far stronger than Janice, but this energy, this arousal, this incredible feeling ... she wants nothing more to bend her will to the young redhead and not the other way. More

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