An Excerpt from Michele Bardsley's Erotic Tales from the Lust Bastion: Wish Upon a Prince Kira dragged herself from the bed and into her bathroom. Her body felt sore and cranky. Todd had gotten his release, but she hadn’t. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to finish the job herself. She looked in the mirror at her smeared makeup and red, puffy eyes. “You’re pathetic.” Maybe she’d have better luck with women. Kira considered the idea of becoming a lesbian as she turned on the hot water and drew a bath. The two ladies she’d met in The Lust Bastion’s parking lot seemed happy. She lit the candles around the tub’s rim, then opened a bottle of rose water. The sweet scent tickled her nose. She poured it into the tub. After capping the bottle and returning it to the shelf, she picked up some bubble beads and tossed them in the churning water. Hmmm. A woman probably wouldn’t screw over another woman, would she? Kira imagined herself suckling another woman’s tits, touching another woman’s pussy ... how would it feel? Nah. She grabbed her bath pillow, slid into the tub, and sighed as the water covered her body with soft heat. She leaned against her pillow and thought about the perfect man. The perfect sex slave. A man who would do whatever she said, whenever she wanted, and however she desired. He wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t call out another woman’s name when they made love. And he would never, ever break her heart. She shifted in the tub. The water lapped over her breasts, slipped between her thighs, and tickled her sensitive neck. It felt almost like a lover’s touch. She slid her hands along her rib cage and cupped her own breasts. They tingled with the need to be touched, to be suckled. The ache of desire lodged between her thighs, her throbbing clit a reminder that Todd hadn’t given her an orgasm. She pinched her own nipples and gasped with the pleasure that zapped her to the core. Her hand slid through her pubic hair and covered her mound; she slipped a finger into her pussy, then two, all the while using her other hand to pinch one nipple then the other. She writhed against her hand, the water surrounding her, sensitizing her skin with its movement. She slipped a third finger into her slick wet heat, and stroked faster, deeper. She pressed her palm against her clit as she felt the pulsing of her vagina around her fingers, but though the attention felt good, her body hypersensitive to the sensations of the water and her hands, she didn’t feel too orgasmic yet. Then she remembered her toy. The Great Smenkare. She got out of the tub so fast, half the water splashed out. She took a moment to dry herself because, knowing her luck, she’d electrocute herself with the vibrator and die wet and naked on her couch. Throbbing, aching, and horny as hell, she hurried to the living room and tore through the bag she’d tucked under the coffee table. With trembling hands, she opened the box and took out the gold vibrator. She lay down on the couch, pushed the vibrator’s little black button, and spread her legs. Nothing happened. Kira opened her eyes and sat up. She pushed the button again. Nada. She shook it, jiggled it, then gave it a hand job. “What the hell is --” Then she remembered the incantation. She dug through the box until she found a small piece of paper wrapped like a tiny parchment scroll. She untied it, rolled it open on her thigh, and read the words. © Michele Bardsley, April 2007 All Rights Reserved