Prisoner Of Lust

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Prisoner Of Lust


A "Latex Futa Nuns From Hell" Side Story


* * * * *


Camilo paced nervously in the kitchen as he looked at his phone. It would ring any minute and his nerves were standing on edge. He'd just closed his laptop after a brief chat with a woman on Fetlife. At least, he hoped it was a woman. One could never be certain a stranger's profile was real until you met them in real life.

The woman was a “Mistress Demonica” who'd announced she was looking for a new submissive. After a quick look at her pictures and list of kinks, Camilo sent her a sincere, but not overly long, message complimenting her and asking for a chance to prove himself. He'd learned from experience that being too eager and lavishing praise to the point of groveling marked him as desperate. No woman liked that. Not even the kind that wanted a man beneath her heel. Mistress Demonica got back to him several days later and, after a brief round of instant messages, asked for his phone number.

Camilo half expected this to be some kind of scam or phone-sex hotline asking for his credit card. Mistress Demonica sounded too good to be true. He was hoping against hope she wasn't. He'd been searching for the right woman to submit to for so long.

*BZZZZTTT*

His phone buzzed to life in his hand and the ringtone sounded. Camilo took a deep breath and composed himself. He waited for it to ring a couple times before hitting the “accept” button.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Camilo” a sultry voice answered. “That is who I'm speaking to, yes?”

“Yes! Hello, Mistress Demonica?”

“That's me.”

“Wow, it's a pleasure to hear your voice.”

“Likewise. I guess you could say I'm a little old fashion. Instant messages are fine, but this is much more intimate, don't you think?”

“Yes! It certainly is.”

“Mmmhmmm, and I like to hear someone before I decide if I want to meet them. You sound like a nice young man. Would you like to meet me?”

Camilo's heartbeat steadily increased. It pounded in his chest as her luscious voice rolled over him. He struggled to maintain his composure.

“I don't think I've wanted anything more in my life.”

“Oooh...” The woman on the other end giggled. “That's a good start.”

“Thank you... Mistress?”

“Oh no, I'm not your Mistress yet. But I might be soon. We're going to get together and have a drink. Get to know each other a little. Then I will decide if there's a place for you in my dungeon.”

“That sounds great. When would you like to meet?”

“Tomorrow at seven?”

“I'll be there.”

“Good. I'll text you the address shortly. It's a quiet little spot downtown. I'll be there at seven sharp, so don't keep me waiting.”

“Yes, Miss Demonica.”

“You learn fast. I like that, Camilo. See you tomorrow night.”


* * * * *


He'd been waiting at a table in The Elephant Room jazz club for ten minutes when Mistress Demonica walked in. Camilo's eyes widened and his mouth fell open as soon as he spotted her. She was every bit as stunning as her pictures on Fetlife. Maybe more so.

The dark skinned Goddess' appetite for leather and latex had not been overstated. Her dark hair fell around her head in luscious waves. A tight, black leather jacket was wrapped around her bosom and midsection, gleaming in the dim light of the club. Her scarlet-red leather pants were full and voluminous, the thick, shiny material creasing in waves as she walked. The pants ended where her high-heeled black leather boots began, just below her knees. Even her hands were clad in shiny black leather.

Camilo suddenly wished he'd worn some leather to emphasize his commitment to their mutual fetish, but his button down shirt and dress slacks would have to do. He stood, waved in her direction and spoke up just as she was walking by.

“Miss Demonica!”

She stopped in her tracks, looked in his direction and smiled when she spotted him. The gorgeous Domina strode over to Camilo and set her purse on the table. Now that she was up close, he was struck by how tall she was. In her heeled boots she had at least three inches on him.

“Hello, Camilo” she began while removing her leather gloves. “Nice to meet you.” She held out her hand as her perfume wafted over him.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Demonica” he answered, taking her hand gladly. He was about to let go when she reached out with her other hand and placed it over his. She took her time feeling the back of his hand, her fingers rubbing across his flesh slowly.

“Mmmm... strong hands. A little rough though. You should use lotion.”

“Uhh, yeah. I should probably take better care of them, you're right.”

She peered deep into his eyes as she continued to stroke his hand. Camilo sunk into her dark pupils. He felt almost lightheaded. Her beauty belied the age she'd listed on her profile by at least two decades. She projected an aura of stern confidence and command. He'd never been so smitten with a woman so swiftly.

“Camilo is your real name, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Mine's Vivian” she released his hand and offered him a fresh smile before pulling out a chair and sitting down. Camilo smiled back like a lovesick puppy and followed her lead. The single candle in the middle of the table cast its light in a small circle. Vivian's piercing eyes glowed in the romantic setting. Improvisational jazz could be heard from the other end of the club where a live group was performing.

“When I saw your picture, I was instantly reminded of a Latino boy I had a crush on in high school. That's one of the reasons I contacted you.”

“Oh? I suppose I owe that guy a favor.”

Vivian laughed and eyed him up and down. “You're not tall, but you are dark and handsome. Two out of three aint bad.”

“Thank you, Miss Vivian.” He couldn't escape the feeling he'd walked into a job interview. The scrutiny would be one-sided, but that was to be expected. Opportunities like this were rare and Camilo wanted the “job” like nothing else.

“You're blue collar,

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Written by James Bondage
Téléchargé September 17, 2020
Notes Mistress Vivian claims Latino man-candy for 24/7 submission.
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