The Princess

The bubblegum pink latex opera glove slides all the way up to your elbow like a second skin, you take a moment to examine the

the glimmering shine of your long slender fingers, sheathed in perfect latex. Beneath you on the floor of his expensive apartment your former sugar-daddy coughs up blood.

You smile down at him, his eyes glazing over as the life starts to leave his body. As soon as he saw the strappy pink six inch stilettos you'd chosen for your costume tonight he'd begged you to step on him.

As it turns out, his throat couldn't handle your full weight behind a wickedly pointed heel. You take a moment to smile at him, his erection deflating as he dies slowly. You use the reflection in his eyes to finish applying your lipstick.

Your outfit is completed by a white and gold corset, a frilly skirt showing off your thighs, a set of steel handcuffs disguised with a wrap of pink lace and a real tiara he'd bought for you with the last of his money. You consider it for a moment then tuck a razor sharp dagger into your garter. You look every inch the princess. He doesn't even cross your mind as you walk out to meet your uber, his body rapidly cooling on the floor of his penthouse.

You slide through the halloween party like a snake, your eyes roaming the meat market of costumes and gyrating bodies. Almost without thinking about it you ruin a mans marriage with a simple kiss on the cheek, and steal another mans girlfriend before leaving her gasping and red faced against the wall of the club.

The VIP area isn't hard to find, the bouncer lets you in after you touch his arm and smile. A small time gangster bankrupts himself buying you the most expensive drink he can find, you leave him on his knees and begging as you approach your target. You have a hunger to feed, a need, that only a man like this can satisfy.

He is young and pretty, long blonde hair framing angular cheekbones and bright blue eyes. His costume is just board shorts and a hawaiian shirt, the first few buttons torn away to show a shaved and lightly muscled chest. You know him better in a police uniform, corrupt and power hungry.

You move towards him, the click of your tall heels, the sway of your body and the smile on your lips entrance him. You watch with amusement as he starts to back away from you, some instinctive part of his brain knowing the threat you represent. You back him slowly up to a plush lounge and with a gentle brush of your latex clad fingers you push him backwards into the lounge and settle into his lap, pinning him in place.

"Hey there" your voice is barely a whisper, a promise of pain and pleasure accentuated by the casual grind of your hips against his lap and the way you slowly sip your champagne.

"Hi, I um, do i know you?" His voice is confused, scared, he is not used to being pursued, but you can sense how badly he wants you.

You stretch out your long legs, pressing back against him, a small bloodstain still visible on the tip of your right stiletto, he whimpers and lets out a small gasp.

"I'm Princess" You smile and turn, pressing your chest to his and straddling his lap. His hands move reflexively to your hips, you giggle and run your laquered pink nails, sharp as razors down his chest, he gasps.

You set your champagne down on the side table and trace your index finger slowly up his throat to his lips, the point digs in drawing a small bead of blood, then you kiss him hungrily, tasing his blood as your fingers circle his throat.

"You want me." It is not a question, you know he does, he can only nod, your nail under his chin, controlling his head like a puppet.

You press against him and bite his earlobe before whispering against his ear.

"kiss my heels in front of everybody and I'll take you in the alley right now" You slide off him and stand, picking up your champagne again to sip. Several men watch in open jealousy as he kneels and slowly and tenderly kisses the toe of your shoe. You barely glance at him, slowly sipping your champagne before letting out another small giggle.

"Pathetic, follow me pretty boy" He crawls behind you without prompting as you lead him out to the back alley behind the club, you take the time to smile and flirt with others as you work your way out.

"I'm going to cuff you now, you're going to be even more helpless ok?" He can only nod, practically drooling.

It doesn't take much prompting to guide him to hump at your boots like a dog, your laughter rings through the alleys as he crawls at your feet, his hands bound as he tries desperately to cum. Your fingers twine through his long blonde hair, nails scratching at his scalp as you lift his head slightly.

You tilt his head back, your dark eyes meeting his light blue ones, wide and pleading and you plant one heel on his thigh, stopping his humping.

"We're going to play a game ok? it's very simple, even a cop like you should manage" His eyes widen a little further, you watch the rush of fear go through him, his cock twitches.

"You can hump my boots all you like little piggy, but if you cum before I count to five, I'm going to cut your throat. This is your only chance to ever cum for me, after this You'll never see me again." his eyes barely leave your boots, a little drool runs down his chin.

"Yes princess please, anything!" he seems shocked at his own words, his surrender, he stares at the knife as you pull it from your garter and set it against his throat.

You pout at him running your other hand down his face before grabbing his hair again.

"One" your voice is cold and hard now. He starts thrusting immediately, with a furious energy. You tighten your calves a little and he gasps.

"Two" you playfully draw the knife across his throat and he starts to sob. you notice his knees scraping raw on the concrete and can see his hands turning blue, you must have put the cuffs on a little tight.

"My my little piggy it's like you want to die, you'll look so good with a cut throat. Three...." You draw the number out, almost sing song, you can see how close he is.

As you trail off the number you make eye contact with him, you watch his expression change, fear flooding in as he explodes pathetically, his cum spattering in the dust at your feet.

"Nooo! no please Princ-" His voice is cut off as you slice through his throat with one practiced movement. Post nut clarity setting in far too late. Blood spatters your shoes and gloves. He gapes like a fish as he falls backwards, still cuffed.

You see his mouth trying to form words as you use one shoe to roll him onto his chest and retrieve your cuffs. Your favourite thing about halloween is that no one will even comment on the bloodstains.

You aren't even paying attention when you step on his chest and face, walking out the alley to get an Uber.