My Name Is Lydia (Jack Nightingale Short Story) - Plot & Excerpts
It was always easy to take control while the bitch slept, though in time she would be able to overcome all resistance no matter what the time. Enough moonlight filtered through the thin curtains to allow her to inspect the naked body. The budding breasts were developing nicely, and she cupped each one in turn, feeling the nipples harden. She ran her fingers between the legs, lingering long enough to feel the moisture start to flow. This body would be so much more fun, now that the transition to womanhood had begun. Still, time enough for that later, once she’d started on the process of subjugation. And spread a little more unhappiness. She took a slow, deep breath, enjoying the feel of the warm night air entering and leaving her lungs. It was good to be alive. She sat up and stretched. She found the packet of cigarettes in the top drawer of the bedside table, placed one between her lips and lit it with a plastic lighter. It had been easy enough to persuade one of the Year Ten boys at school to buy them for her, especially with the suggestion of a little reward to come.
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