Other editions of book Trick or Treat

Halloween has always been Emma's favorite holiday. The chance to dress up and try on a new persona only comes once a year. And this year, she intends to pull out all the stops.Dale isn't so sure about his wife's plans. He never saw her as a dominatrix. And he definitely never saw himself as submissive. But the allure of his dominant wife in her sexy femdom outfit may be too much to resist. Especially when she brings her friend Sandra into their fun...'Dale waited. It was a long wait. From the direction of their bedroom, he could hear the occasional mysterious sound. The dull thunk of something being dropped. Emma’s voice, muttering whispered curses at some inanimate object that refused to co-operate with her. From time to time, a strange sort of squeaking he couldn’t identify. Zippers, many zippers being fastened. He waited wordlessly. He didn’t need to touch himself. Without any further stimulation beyond the sounds of his wife dressing and his own imagination, Dale’s cock stayed rock hard, refusing to go down even slightly. The padded arms of the chair creaked under his fingers. He shifted in his seat as the minutes rolled past.Finally, he heard Emma’s footsteps returning to him. He felt them, too, even through the carpet. The hallway floor was hardwood, and the sharp report of her steps, dangerous as gunfire, told him she was wearing high heels. As she came closer, he heard that squeaking sound again. As she came around the corner, Dale’s heart lurched in his chest like a drunk in a cell. Emma’s eyes glittered, her red mouth curving like a bow as she basked in the glow of her husband’s disbelieving gaze. Striking a pose, she placed her hands on her hips, standing firm with her feet apart while Dale’s wide eyes flickered up and down the length of her body.“You - oh my God. You look amazing,” Dale spluttered.She did. Emma’s curvy body was sheathed in a shining one piece body suit that clung to her like a second skin. With every slight movement of her body, with each small breath, the fabric - was it leather? Latex? - shimmered and shone. It was so tight that Dale could see the twin hard buds of her nipples, could study every indentation of the rounded muscles of her thighs. Above the womanly swell of her hips, her waist looked impossibly small, wrapped tightly in a leather corset that made her stand proud and upright with a perfect hourglass figure. From mid-thigh down, the suit disappeared beneath a pair of tall, pointy boots in bright red leather with taut laces that criss-crossed their way up Emma’s legs from the arches of her feet. The heels were slender as icepicks and at least six inches tall. Dale’s transformed wife towered in the doorway, looking equal parts intimidating and seductive. He was genuinely speechless as he took in the powerfully erotic sight.'