Furry. Vicious. Wicked.
Lesbian shifters, vampires, and witches come in all shapes and sizes. From the humblest mouse to the most ferocious cougar, from maids and their mistresses to urban vamps and the women they lick, these stories are sure to inspire chills, thrills, and delicious shivers:
Milady’s Bath ~a Gothic tale from a Lady’s maid at midnight
Mrs. Fox and the Cat of Nine Tails ~a fairy tale cat seduces her mistress
Sneak ~a mouse shifter saves the day in a backwoods bordello
Sparrow Takes Flight ~a wind witch leaves as often as she comes
Blood Lust ~this vamp plays with knives
Wild Things ~a deaf witch meets her match in the rainforest
Taken from Behind ~cougar shifters must be extra careful
Blood Whore ~urban fantasy from a student just vamping for the cash
WARNINGS: This title contains blood, fur, and explicit lesbian sex.
Milady winces as she glides into the bathing tub and dunks her head under the water. Her soft breasts float to the surface even before the tip of her nose rises up. Her wet hair emerges and she gasps for breath. All else but her scraped knees remain underwater.
Seating myself on a cushioned stool at her side, I soak a square of cotton in the fragranced water and wipe dirt from her face. She smiles at me as though we share a secret, but I must admit it’s a secret I don’t fully understand.
“Have you truly never been intimate with a man?” she asks. “You can confide me, dear Lizzie. I promise never to tell a soul.”
Shaking my head, I run the cloth down Milady’s smooth neck. The white cotton turns grey and I must start again with a new square. “I regret I have nothing to confess. I have no desire to be intimate with any man.”
She hisses when I touch the cloth to her chest. Her scratches trouble me deeply, but Milady remains jubilant after such wretched abuse.
“I could never take pleasure in pain,” I tell her. “If this is the mark of man, I am safer in my own leanings.”
“Ah, but this is no mere man,” she says, and closes her eyes. A smile flows from her tender pink lips. “He is a man and so much more.”
As Milady skims her fingers through the hair between her legs, I watch her lovely breasts bob in the water. Those pallid spheres call to me, their poor pink nipples distended and erect. I roll up the sleeves of my nightdress before drizzling fragranced oil across her chest. She sighs when I rub my cloth the length of her bare breast, but I am hardly satisfied to touch her skin through a square of cotton. Her nudity provokes irrepressible urges in me. I must feel her soft flesh against mine.