The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

ELEVATOR ENCOUNTER

CHAPTER FOUR

The second spur is detached, and Brian extends upward to give it to the blonde bombshell. His gaze sweeps the magnificence of HER body; his breathe now coming in a series of short, whooshing inhales and exhales. Unconsciously, his need for HER beguiling aroma is beyond his control. “HOW COINCIDENTAL,” SHE coos, as a smooth gloved hand slides onto his cheek, YOU, BRI, IN THE SAME BUILDING AS ONE OF MY CURRENT PLAYTHINGS.” HER long fingers splay out and up into his thin gray hair. DIABLA’s touch is gentle and caressing, but an overwhelming aura of wicked foreboding makes Brian quiver. Easily, SHE tips his head backwards just enough for their eyes to meet once again. Holding him in suspension, eager expectation in his gaze, both of HER boots teasingly graze the projecting bulge of his hard-on as they are retracted into the interior of the Lambo. “Ohh, pleezz,”he hears himself plead, not really cognizant of what he means. A knowing twinkle comes to HER crystalline blue orbs, as DIABLA gracefully pivots in the sumptuous bucket seat. The sound of steel clanging against steel emerges from the far side of the car’s passenger compartment as the spurs are tossed casually aside. HER glove leaves his face and moves onto the brutish-looking steering wheel. SHE flexes the fisted grip SHE has and jewels and polished fingernails reflect daggers of light all about. “WHAT DO YOU WANT, SWEET MAN?”

Brian is surprisingly caught off-guard with this request. Can he just confess his deepest desires to this temptress, now, in this garage? His mind is in a fog and unbeknownst to him, that fog is the result of HER fragrance laced with impossibly powerful pheromones virtually no male has ever resisted for long. Even in this debilitated state, he is certain, desperately certain, that he cannot lose this once-in-a-lifetime chance. SHE is it. DIABLA is the one, and he must give himself to HER. He must. “i, I,” he stutters, “I want, ta, to invite YOU fa, for a drink?” While he struggles for words, SHE leans away from the contour of the rich leather seat to pull the mass of flowing tresses out from behind HER and to swirl them across a broad shoulder letting them fall deliciously over one of HER enormous breasts and partially descend into the depth of HER cleavage. Then a slight whirring sound announces the appearance of the mirrored visor which descends aglow in soft LED light. SHE reclines back into the cream-colored bucket to inspect the reflected image with justified vanity. HER beauty is unequalled. Primping the perfectly shaped bangs encircling HER face, SHE throws a one-word comment sideways to Brian, “WHY?” He struggles to be restrained, “Because m, MZ D, DIABLA you are the, the most perfect lady, lady…” “UMM, YESZZ,” SHE interrupts, her tongue slithering out, pink and moist. Brian stares in astonishment as the glistening probe travels along the surface of HER glossy upper lip then curls out well beyond the length of any other he’s ever seen before touching HER pouty lower lip. A vision flashes across his mind’s eye of that hot probe traveling ever so slowly up the highly sensitive underside of his currently rock hard dick and darting about its head. “DARLING, I HAVE SO MANY OTHERS AHEAD OF YOU,” he hears in a hushed drawl as the visor retracts and HER right arm moves to the console of the spectacular automobile. Fear, so sudden and intense, grips him. The validity of HER statement resonates in his brain. Brian has no doubt this knockout has numerous guys (probably young, virile stallions) just begging for a morsel of HER attention. How can he possibly hope to gain HER favor? “I, I’m sure,” he gushes with panic quite noticeable in his shaky voice. He feels this incredible opportunity slipping away, he feels so inferior, so inadequate, so desperate. “Anything,” he whimpers, “Anything YOU want, anything I have, anything, anything…” his words fade into silence as he sees no sign of recognition on DIABLA’s dazzling face.

Without warning of any kind, the Aventador is brought to life. Its suddenly deafening roar fills the still garage like a vicious and savage beast awakening. Brian cries out like a frighten child, the high decibel sound piercing his ears. Instinctively, he wiggles backwards on his knees as the Lamborghini simply vibrates with unleashed power. In his shocked state, he sees HER hand extend down towards him; between thumb and index finger is a card, business-sized in shimmering gold. The initial crescendo of HER super-machine starts to wane in a few seconds, settling into a low guttural rumble. “TAKE IT,” SHE commands above the swoon of the thousand-horse engine. With hope igniting in his heart, he grasps the slick plastic object and lifts it up to his eyes. Tearing his gaze away from DIABLA, he breathlessly reads the single line of text which is a website: demonessdiabla.net/brian. The word ‘demoness’ excites and scares him simultaneously, but seeing his name sends a shudder through his entire being. He looks upward to ogle his cherished fantasy goddess in stark, scintillating reality. SHE is gazing down on him with a smolderingly seductive smile. A look that could captivate any male, but which is now searing into Brian’s very soul. “CONTACT ME ,” the majestic beauty murmurs accompanied by a tantalizing wink. The joy he feels is unprecedented and absolutely extraordinary. Every nerve in his body tingles with desire and he moans unashamedly as the driver’s door quietly descends. “MY PET,” is DIABLA’s last utterance as SHE disappears from view and Brian lurches backwards. The sensation of his balls erupting and his cock convulsing all as one makes him scream like a banshee. His pathetic wale blends with the sharp squeal of tires as the exotic sports car blasts forward and his jism jettisons forth. This is the ejaculation of his life, an explosion of primal ecstasy induced by, and in the divine honor of, DIABLA.

Brian is suddenly, completely exhausted and euphoric, in combination. As the sleek vehicle disappears he glimpses the personalized plate, illuminated by a soft glowing light. In his unbelievably helpless state, the letters E-V-L-B-T-C-H still register immediately. DIABLA is presumably proud to be evil, and to be a self-proclaimed bitch. “Oh, gawd, gawd,” he groans, shuddering uncontrolably. Touching his retreating organ, his thoughts swirl—‘How did SHE get me off with just HER sexual aura?’—‘How can I be so thoroughly consumed by HER in a scant ten minutes?’—‘How will I exist until I can see HER again?’