Page 47 of The Sadist and the Brat

In Bag B is a catsuit. If you choose this scenario, you’re a cat burglar.

Even as she snickered, her interest sharpened.

You’ll dress in the catsuit and matching boots—

Wait, there were boots? She went back to the garment bag, shoving her hand into the bottom and pulling out a pair in the same black PVC as the suit. They were pull-on, with a high, tapered heel that made her roll her eyes.No cat burglar would ever wear high heels—talk about fantasy.But since fantasy was the point, and the boots would make her ass look fantastic, she ignored the lack of realism and picked up the letter again.

You’ll dress in the catsuit and matching boots, and when you leave the bedroom, James will turn off the basement lights. There’s a black pouch in the bottom of the garment bag for your ‘loot’, and a penlight that you’ll have to use to make your way to the big bedroom to burgle it. The homeowner will catch you in the act and will attempt to capture you. You will try to evade, and if you fail, the consequences will be dire.

“Dire, huh?” she murmured, a shiver running up her spine at the thought. Shaking it off, she refocused on the letter.

The choice of which scenario we play out is up to you, and I’ll take my cue from your clothes. As soon as you leave the bedroom, the game is on.

–J

She let the letter fall to the bed and eyed her choices. On one hand, naughty schoolgirl was a classic choice, and a safe one. Even with the slight curveball of the scenario he’d laid out, it was familiar. Comforting.

On the other hand—catsuit.

It wasn’t even a contest.

She shed her clothes, tossing her yoga pants and sweatshirt across the bed. She hadn’t bothered with a bra or panties—mostly because she hadn’t wanted to waste clean underwear. Naked, she picked up the catsuit and began to wiggle into it.

It was snug, but the inner fabric was surprisingly soft and slid over her skin with ease. She tugged on the legs like a pair of tights, smoothing as she went, then worked her arms in. The zipper she’d thought ended at the crotch actually went between her legs and up the crack of her ass to end at the base of her spine. There was a tab at each end, enabling it to be unzipped from either direction. She could appreciate the versatility of the design, for both practical reasons—she wouldn’t have to take the whole thing off to pee—and more pleasurable ones. She had a brief flash of being bent over, unzipped, and unceremoniously fucked from behind.

Flushed at the thought, she zipped it up to the base of her breastbone, then bent forward to jiggle her boobs into place. When she straightened, she crossed to the mirror to check out the view.

She looked sleek and sexy, the PVC gleaming in the lights, her tits half exposed in the deep V of the open zipper. They looked as though they were half a breath from bursting free but stayed put when she bounced on her toes. She bent this way and that, testing the limits of the fabric, pleased when it moved with her without pinching or bunching.

Eager to see how the rest of it came together, she dragged on the boots. They might not be what a real burglar would wear, but they definitely added to the effect. Her ass looked amazing, her tits even better. She grabbed the hood and dragged it up over her head, letting her hair spill forward. The strawberry-blonde was bright against the slick and shiny black, the ends tickling the bare skin between her breasts in a subtle tease.

She grabbed her phone out of the kangaroo pocket of her sweatshirt, and after a slow spin in front of the mirror, struck a pose. After snapping a couple of quick selfies, she tossed the phone on top of her sweatshirt and dug back in the garment bag.

She found the bag he’d mentioned in the letter—a small velvet pouch with drawstrings—and opened it up. There were a few pieces of costume jewelry inside, the kind one might find in a child’s dress-up box. Still, he got points for the effort, and for making the role-play as realistic as possible.

She picked up the letter and skimmed through it again, wanting to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.Catsuit, check. Boots and bag, check.She didn’t have the flashlight, she realized, and went back to the garment bag. She found it way at the bottom, a slender bit of plastic that really did look like a pen, and clicked it on. It emitted a surprisingly strong beam of light for such a little thing and, satisfied, she clicked it off again.

She wound the strings of the pouch around her left wrist and kept the pen light in her right, then stepped to the door, opened it a crack and stuck her head out.

James was sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace across the room, his attention on the book in his lap. But he heard the door open and lifted his head, smiling when he saw her.

“All set?” he called softly, and she gave him a thumbs-up.

He put the book aside and rose from the chair, crossing to the light switch beside the staircase. He lifted his hand, sent her a wink, and with a flick of his wrist plunged the basement into darkness.

Chapter Seven

Even though she’d been expecting it, the sudden lack of light was so disorienting that Sadie froze for a moment. The room was like pitch, the only hint of light a small red dot on the wall security panel, and she realized dimly that James must have hit a master switch of some kind, because he’d killed the lights in the bedroom behind her, too. She couldn’t see anything, and for a second, she panicked. Then she remembered the flashlight.

She fumbled it on, flinching when it hit her full in the face, and quickly directed the beam to the floor. Blinking the spots out of her eyes, she tried to think what she would do if she was actually trying to rob the place.

Since she’d never actually met a burglar or tried to rob anyone, she had no idea what that was. But books and movies had given her more than a few examples, so she channeled her inner villain and slowly swept the light across the floor.

The letter had said her goal was to burgle the big bedroom, so she aimed her light in that direction. The door across the room was slightly ajar now, clearly visible in the wide beam of light. With her eyes on the prize, she started forward.

And promptly walked into the pool table.

She let out anoofand stumbled, flinging out her arms for balance, and the pen light went flying out of her hand. It careened through the air, the wildly flashing light momentarily blinding her again. She slammed a hand down on the pool table’s felt top for balance, sending balls clattering as the light hit the wall and fell, with the tiniest of muffled thumps, to the floor.

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