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, I take it?”

“Yeah, I work in a warehouse. It’s grunt work, but it pays well and keeps me in good shape.”

“I see that. Another reason I picked you. So, what are your long term ambitions?”

“If you looked at my profile page, you already know them.”

“Indeed. I suppose you wouldn’t have many career ambitions if your goal is to submit to a woman 24/7. Is that truly what you want?”

“It is, but I know it’s not realistic without financial independence first. It’s not like some well-off woman is going to appear out of nowhere and ask me to be her live-in slave.”

“Don’t assume things, Camilo” she replied with a smirk. “This is the third reason I reached out to you, but I need to know if you’re absolutely serious about it. A lot of men think that’s what they want until they get a taste of it. Are you truly ready to commit to being a woman’s slave?”

Camilo’s heartbeat spiked and his palms began to sweat. He steadied himself and answered calmly. “Yes. That’s exactly what I want. And if I were to submit to a stunning beauty like you, I would consider myself very fortunate.”

Vivian emitted an amused, throaty chuckle as she placed her elbow on the table and set her chin in the palm of her hand. “Well, you certainly have a way with words.” She stared at him for a few seconds with pursed lips, a decision being weighed in her mind. Once she was satisfied, she leaned back in her chair, raised her arm and flagged down their waiter. “We have much to discuss ... over drinks.”

The waiter hurried over and Vivian instructed him directly. “I’ll have a Blue Hawaiian. Camilo?”

“House ale is fine for me.”

The waiter nodded and walked off. While they waited for him to return, the two discussed their mutual kinks and the play activities they enjoyed. Vivian brought up the topic of limits knowing full well that any Camilo had would be dissolved in very little time. The outline of a power exchange was being formed. How total and permanent it would be, he had no idea yet.

The drinks were placed on the table and Camilo moved to take a large gulp from his mug.

“Ah ah” Vivian stopped him. “Just a sip to start.”

Camilo cut himself off mid-chug and set the mug back down. His grin revealed that he was enjoying her haughty commands already.

Vivian took a sip of her strong cocktail through the playful yellow straw. She sat back and moved one of her booted calves closer to her new submissive.

“Alright Camilo, if this to continue, you will follow my next instruction to the letter.”

“Yes, Miss Vivian.”

“Get below the table and put your lips on my boot, where they belong. You will kiss my foot for no less than ten seconds. Count out those seconds to yourself, slowly.”

A shade of red entered Camilo’s cheeks, but it didn’t stop him from complying rapidly. He immediately stood, crouched down and pushed himself below the table as if he’d dropped something and was looking for it. Within seconds his lips were on her leather-encased foot. Vivian could feel the light suction and gentle worship of his tongue.

Vivian glanced from side to side and made sure no one was looking as she reached for Camilo’s mug and brought it closer to her. The mischievous Domme reached into her coat pocket and extracted a small vial. She uncapped it, removed the dropper and quickly brought it to the rim of the glass. She squeezed its milky white contents onto the surface of his beverage. She then stirred it with her finger before pocketing the vial and moving his drink back into position.

She felt his lips leave her boot a few seconds later and a red-faced Camilo popped back up and took his seat. Vivian’s smile was pleased and devilish.

“Very good, Camilo. Now you may drink.”

It was almost 48 hours later and Camilo awoke to his phone ringing on the coffee table. He’d been scheduled to work that day, but his unusual, persistent thirst and general malaise implied he was coming down with something. It had been an easy decision to call out sick. He shook off the grogginess, muted his TV and answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Camilo. How you doing?”

His heart skipped a beat. He was starting to think he wasn’t going to hear from her again. It would’ve been a shame after their meet and greet went so well. “Miss Vivian? I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”

“I’m good, but I’ll be better when you get your bitch-ass over here.”

“Ummm, right now?”

“Not this instant. Let’s say eight o’clock. You know where St. Michael’s is?”

“The church?!? Yeah...”

“When you get there, follow the campus signs to the Sisters of Guadalupe. Go to the front desk and they’ll bring you to me.”

“You’re at a convent? Is this for real?”

“Do I sound like I’m joking, Camilo? Do as I say, you little slut. Your new life begins tonight.”

He could hardly believe it, but he wasn’t about to argue with the beautiful woman he’d been dying to hear from for the last two days. “Yes, Miss Vivian.”

“Mistress Vivian” she corrected him. “Oh, and I saw those pictures of you in a latex suit. You still have it, right?”

“Yes, Mistress Vivian.”

“Wear it. And make sure your ass is immaculately clean before you put it on. In and out.”

Camilo inhaled deeply. She wasn’t pranking him. This was real and he was in for the night of his life. He could hardly contain his excitement.

“Yes, Mistress Vivian!”

“See you at eight, bitch.”

She hung up and he set his phone back on the table. His mind reeled as the bizarre thirst continued to claw at his stomach. He ignored it. He had much to do to get ready.