My submissive-an evil angel

Untitled Part 12

The following Friday she came to the house just after 7 pm, way earlier than usual.

I still hadn't told her anything about what I was feeling for her, how I caught myself thinking about her eyes, or her laugh, and smiling to myself. Or how much I enjoyed and anticipated our conversations. Or how passing her in the halls at school and seeing her smile at me now usually gave me a pleasing little jolt of adrenaline, rather than the shudder of fear and disgust I used to feel.

But I also didn't tell her about the darker side of my feelings. I didn't tell her that the memories of how she treated me were still bright and vivid in my mind. That when I wasn't mooning over her like the teen-aged idiot that I knew I was being, I still felt a deep-seated wave of repulsion and hatred whenever I thought about her. The feelings weren't even separate in my mind any more, they were mixed together in some sort of sweet, black, violent affection that just plain confused the shit out of me.

But talking with her felt so easy now, so natural. I caught myself laughing along with a little in-joke we shared with Jamie, and I realized that I was closer to her than I was with any of my so-called friends at school. I was probably closer to her than I'd ever been with anyone outside my family. How could I like someone I hated so much?

I didn't tell her any of this, and I didn't have to. I just laughed along with them, and tried not to think about what it meant. Instead I focused on what we were going to do when we were alone.

That night she knocked on my door just a little after midnight.

"Come in." I said.

I'd been practising my voice. I was speaking more from the chest, and trying to be a lot clearer than I was in everyday conversation. It didn't sound drastically different, but I thought it sounded better, more masculine.

She slipped quietly into the room. She was wearing her negligee again, a see-through black gown that ended about an inch past her waist, fixed to a black bra that gave her incredible cleavage, and held up by small shoulder straps. Through the thin weave I could see she was wearing matching panties this time. I found my eye drawn to her long, smooth legs. As I studied her, I noticed that she'd even painted her toenails black.

"Hi." I said finally.

"Hi." she echoed, smiling.

She stood at the door and awaited instruction, as usual, but as I continued to leer at her she shifted her body slightly, as if posing for me.

"You look beautiful, tonight." I said, meeting her eye.

Her smile grew wide.

"Really?" she said, surprised.

She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you." she said.

I loved how much she seemed to enjoy the simple compliment. This girl had probably been told she was beautiful all her life, but only I could make her smile like this.