The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

ELEVATOR ENCOUNTER

CHAPTER THREE

“MY, MY,” he hears HER softly exclaim, while in front of his face the foot of the boot rotates enticingly, the nearly pointed tip of the slender stiletto flashing through his field of vision followed by the ribbed steel platform, “I HAVE FOULD MYSELF A GENTLEMAN, HAVEN’T I ?” Brian’s pulse pounds wildly in his temples and he sweeps his hand across his eyes to rid them of the joyous tearing. He wants so much to kiss the fetish footgear making circles in the air inches away, to show this empress how much he longs to be possessed by HER. His overwhelmed mind searches for a response, clever yet dignified, but none evolves, so yet again he just moans his words, “yesss, Mzzz.”

HER right arm moves outward from a place unseen behind HER and lifts a mass of glowing tresses to move them back over a shoulder. In so doing, SHE arches HER back slightly allowing Brian a brief glimpse further down a glistening torso coated in skin-fit jet black. What he had first thought to be a bodysuit reveals itself instead to be a nasty two piece ensemble. The top is cropped just above deliciously ripped abs, the hem edged in a row of jewels matching those on HER boots. A pair of miniscule black booty shorts cling to HER lower torso like a second-skin of rubber, riding low over prominently arching hips to complete the super sexy outfit. As if in slow motion the left arm arises from its place atop the surface of HER boot and the circular motion ceases. A hand presents itself precariously close to Brian’s mouth interrupting his trance-like stare along the lines of HER scrumptious body.

“I AM DIABLA’” SHE announces in a firm, yet velvety voice. He looks at the long, shiny semi-fingerless glove, its cover stopping slightly beyond the first joint, like that of a boxer’s training mitt. Stylish rings adorn two fingers, both sleek contemporary designs, one with a large ruby at its center, the other with a cluster of diamonds. A bracelet dangles from a wrist, intertwining braids of clear acrylic adorned with alternating silver and gold studs. Nails glisten in silver, extending outward with a hint of curvature at their termination. In Brian’s brain they resemble the talons of a raptor, fiercely menacing. It seems certain what SHE expects and instinctively he cradles HER hand in one of his, leans forward and tenderly presses his lips to the latex sheathed back. He would like to linger there forever, embracing HER warmth, willingly inhaling HER aromatic fragrance which radiates from HER lotioned flesh. Alas he politely, but with great reluctance, releases HER.

DIABLA, the name conjures up multiple thoughts in Brian, first: it is very unusual, second: it leaves no doubt that a second name for this unique creature is quite unnecessary, and third: a vision of a female devil figure, numbers of vanquished males lying lifeless at HER feet as fires leap all around HER. He shivers and sheepishly returns the introduction, “Brian, Brian Evans.” The hand is retracted and once again he is caught up in the majesty of HER gaze. There must be no more perfect glamour than what he now beholds, and the realization that his cock is on the rise only heightens his bliss. “MY CAPE, BRI – ANN,” HER luscious lips form the words, as somewhere HER fingers snap to the syllables of his name and echo quite loudly in the garage confines. Looking down he remembers that just seconds ago he was standing behind HER, lunging for the silver and gold waterfall that now is nestled over his arm and shoulder. “Oh, oh yes,” he stammers, gathering up the stunning wrap, careful not to let it touch the dusty floor before raising it up like an offering. SHE smiles and purrs, “UMMM, YOU ARE A GOOD BOY” emphasizing the ‘are’ with a naughty twinkle in HER eyes that further enflames Brian. SHE grabs the garment and rather casually tosses it across the console and into the passenger’s seat of the crimson super-car. “DIABLA REWARDS SUCH FINE BEHAVIOR,” SHE says with mock enthusiasm like that of the parent of an adolescent, yet Brian, still on his knees, feels the rush of acceptance he so craves. This IS her, he thinks with delirious desire overwhelming him.

DIABLA uncrosses; then re-crosses HER legs with elegant precision, placing the left leg extended out at his side. Pivoting awkwardly, his gaze travels down their immense length, studying the lacing details and the exposed gold thread stitching at the seams and the abundance of rubies and emeralds and diamonds that dot the silver metallic surfaces. “REMOVE MY SPUR.” SHE commands matter-of-factly, as he looks directly at the golden accessory. It is quite obviously sculpted to custom fit about HER ankle as there appears to be no adjustable strap but rather a fixed clasp. Silently, and without hesitation, Brian scoots around on the concrete floor until he can reach the glistening target. “Ya, yes, M, Mzz,” he finds himself replying, fingertips moving forward to touch the cold metal and search for the method to release the securing mechanism. After a few seconds Brian discovers the projecting button with an engraved “D” on it and pushes it. The spur snaps open and its weight propels it downward. He fumbles to catch it, as the dagger-like points stab into his skin. Just at the floor surface he grasps it and gives out a short grunting sound from the pain. “CAREFUL, DARLING,” SHE coos from above with less than sincere concern. He looks at the U-shaped device in wonder as he cautiously places it in the palm of HER hand. Why has SHE worn these to an office building? Are they a fashion statement or something more; something functional to impel someone or to hurt someone? Suddenly the vision of this beauty, atop an Adonis-like hunk with spurs clawing at his sides urging him to his highest possible performance, flashes through Brian’s psyche and his erection surges within his loose sharkskin slacks.

Legs move, the subdued light reflects off of the silver shafts as their placement is exchanged and another spur comes into view. “AGAIN,” is HER one-word demand. Brian looks at the boot and realizes that the release button is on the opposite side of this one. Glancing up to stare in frozen amazement at this arrogant goddess, SHE gives no indication that SHE intends to re-position the boot to ease his task. Indeed, a small but wicked smirk crosses HER fascinating face, telling him not only will he need to work harder for this one but that SHE intends to enjoy his effort. ‘Oh, gawd,’ his senses cry out, ‘I want HER so badly.’ He wiggles around until he can see over the outstretched gam and to the ankle. Starting to reach down his motion is stopped abruptly by the sensation of HER other boot sliding between his thighs and upward. He is petrified as the slick surface brazenly rises. It seems an eternity until the tip of its toe makes contact with his pants, and he gasps uncontrollably. He can’t bear to make eye contact with DIABLA, as a consequence he bows his head to watch the shiny leather disappear into his crotch, its arch raised up, pushing against his swollen sac, then rotating a tiny bit to ride over each one his sensitive balls. “Ohh, ohh,” he moans in short gasps, as SHE expertly moves back and forth at the base of his surging shaft.

“CONCENTRATE ON MY SPUR, BRI-BOY,” comes in a whisper to his receptive ears. HE closes his eyes for a moment to take in the scintillating pleasure engulfing his entire being. He vows to himself that there is absolutely nothing he won’t do for DIABLA, nothing he won’t sacrifice, nothing he won’t become for HER.