Page 91 of Lizbeth's Lesbian Collection

Zelda played with unguarded enthusiasm; from beginning to end, her submissive inclinations were obvious, her ability as a cunt sucker just as evident.

“Keep it up, bitch,” Jane said.

Maybe she wouldn’t be so bad to top. Jane didn’t really think she’d be up for the club that night, unless she raged through the place and kicked ass with all her favorites. The girls would probably be waiting for her; but then again, maybe she’d surprise them all – including herself – and stay home dispensing a weeks’ worth of whippings on this voluptuously contemptible creature.

The more the woman sucked her, the hotter Jane got. She pulled Zelda’s hair with such abandon that the little subbie should have squealed in protest. Zelda, however, remained attentive to her task as if the outcome actually mattered.

“Goddam fuuuucccck!” Jane blurted out, her only exclamation of pleasure, as she rocked against Zelda’s perky face with a whorish glee, spewing cum on her soft pink cheeks. Once she finished, Jane roughly shoved her away, and Zelda sat back meekly on her haunches with cum still glistening on her face.

“Have I pleased you, sir?” she looked up longingly.

“No,” Jane answered. “You talk too much, slut. But you come to me tonight at eight and I’ll teach you a few lessons in manners. And don’t bother wearing any clothes, I’d burn them in the fireplace if you did.”

“Yes sir,” Zelda replied, pleased.

“Did you get me right? You show up at my door naked.”

“Yes sir.” The thrill was almost too much for Zelda to take in.

***

“We’ll confront Jane after the funeral,” Robin announced, as she sat back in Felicia’s chair, looking out on Felicia’s world with the pictures still in her hands. The eroticism of the images had aroused both PIs.

“You think she’s guilty?” Leslie asked.

“Frankly no, but we wouldn’t be doing a very good job for Betsy if we ignore the fact that Jane didn’t offer any information on her relationship with Felicia and that she lied to us about her S&M and Roman Hill. That’s not even considering the ropes, which she seems to think aren’t important.”

“Well, the woman seems to be good at explaining, let her explain all of this,” Leslie suggested. She stared down at one picture of Jane, a particularly intimate pose between dominant and submissive, one with Jane’s expression grim and caring all at the same time. It was the one expression that stirred Leslie’s sexual desires every time she glanced at the photograph. “Does Jane turn you on at all?” she asked her partner.

“Does she you?” Robin returned the question without answering.

Leslie stared at the picture again. “I think she does. Yes.”

“That’s a switch,” Robin replied, thinking of the many years of Leslie’s denials. Never would a butch leather dyke catch her partner’s attention, let alone engender her lust. “All that leather is too much for me,” she’d say.

“So, how about answering my question,” Leslie jerked her partner from her thoughts.

Robin looked up. “Does Sir Jane turn me on?” she stared off into space. “I imagine, she could top me in a second, and I’d do everything that woman said. I don’t know what it is about her, but she’s got some kind of genius about her sexuality.”

“I didn’t think you went for her type any more than I do.”

“Everyone’s different Les, and she certainly is. If you can change your ideas about what turns you on, don’t you suppose I can too? Jane Hugh’s about the most exciting Femme Domme I’ve ever been around. Although, I have no idea why.”

The funeral was an exquisite piece of theatre, planned by Betsy, although Betsy wasn’t in attendance. Felicia’s death managed to attract a number of community celebrities, a few writers of some prominence, and a wide range of personalities that made her finale with the world an interesting, though uneventful parting. The service was simple, elegant and understated in a way Felicia never was.

“She looked rather like herself, don’t you think?” Robin said, as she and Leslie walked away from the chapel. “I’m amazed what a mortician can do with a dead body anymore. He certainly didn’t take away any of her haughtiness; it was all there as plain as day.”

“But not her mirth,” Leslie suggested. “I think that’s what I remember about her, the few times we crossed paths.”

“But the haughtiness was more genuine,” Robin said.

“I don’t agree, but then I didn’t know her the way you did. So, what great revelations did you get from the last hour?” Leslie asked.

“None,” Robin sighed. “Our little women, Jane included were on their best behavior, don’t you think?”

“Perfect. If Jane has all this affection for Felicia, she didn’t show much.”

“Maybe just showing up was important for her. If she had the nasty kind of relationship with Felicia that everyone thought, she wouldn’t be here at all,” Robin reasoned. “If Felicia was a particularly special submissive in her host of submissives, then showing up at the funeral was a sign of respect that Jane wouldn’t give to just anyone.”

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