Cinder (Tamara Vincent's Twisted Fantasies Book 1) by Tamara Vincent

Author:Tamara Vincent [Vincent, Tamara]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: drugs, fantasy, incest, fairy tales, fetish, erotica, transformation
Published: 2018-11-23T00:00:00+00:00

Cassandra sniffed fastidiously as she looked around the parlor in which the servant had led her. The room was small, circular, fitted with black leather couches around a small round table. Purple and red draperies hung from the walls, and cushions were piled up on the seats, giving the place a distinctive Eastern look. Like a room in some distant sultan’s harem, she thought. The smell of incense in the air accentuated the impression.

She watched herself in a mirror, its baroque gold frame hanging by the door, and checked her hairdo and her makeup.

A purple curtain was pulled to one side, and Cyn made her entrance through an arched, darkened doorway. Cassandra looked at her and gasped.

“Cinder?!”

She had heard voices of course, of her stepdaughter crashing the ball made up like a harlot, and causing no end of embarrassment to her daughter Clarisse. The poor girl had other things on her mind, of course, when the morning after the ball had shared a cigarette with her mother and sister, but among all the talk about the prince and the plans for the future, there had been some room for Cinder’s surprise arrival, and equally surprising disappearance around midnight.

“We shared a cigarette,” Charlotte had said. “She was friendly. I did not mind her,” she had added, with a barbed glance at her sister.

But her mother and Clarisse had dismissed her comment, and plunged back into their gossiping and plotting for what was to come with the charming prince, and had left Charlotte brooding.

Now the older woman watched as a leather-clad temptress advanced on her. Cyn was wearing a pair of skin-tight black leather pants, that underscored her muscular thighs and her firm ass, and a purple velvet corset that pushed up her breasts, giving her a monumental cleavage.

She tossed her head, her severe ponytail falling behind her, and she exhaled a long plume of smoke. The purple stone in her nose sparkled as it caught the light.

“Welcome, mother,” she said, motioning for her to sit down. Then she sat on one of the leather couches, crossing her legs and stretching her arms over the back, a cigarette smoldering between her fingers.

“I did not believe the stories,” Cassandra said.

“Really?” Cyn smiled cruelly. “You should have.”

The older woman shook her head. “You had never given me any hint of… this.”

“You’re not the only one surprised by this,” Cyn said, pushing her breast forward. “I was surprised myself.”

She pulled a chord hanging behind her. “I’m a terrible host,” she said. “I didn’t even offer you a cigarette.”

Cassandra bent forward to accept a light.

“How much of these stories are true?” she asked, briskly.

“What stories, mother dear?”

Cassandra grimaced. “I am not your mother. And I’m talking about stories about you being… close to the King.”

“Oh, that…” Cyn said. “Let’s say I’m close enough to him to get royally fucked whenever I feel like. Or he does. And we often do.”

Cassandra’s eyes blazed. “You must be kidding.”

“You think so? And yet you hope I’m telling the truth,” Cyn said leaning forward.

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