Candice’s Class
(The Inraptured.com Convention Story: Part 4)
By Milo Minderbinder
“Feminization 101 with Mistress Amethyst,” said Tenker.
I shook my head. “Pass.”
We were sitting on a sofa in the lobby of the hotel, going over the schedule for the next round of classes.
“Drug Play with Lee,” said Tenker.
“Maybe,” I said. “Saw her teach that at Charmed last year. She was pretty good.”
He made a mark on the paper. “Scrambled Egg Induction with Mistress Pancake.”
I frowned at him.
Tenker laughed. “Just making sure you’re paying attention.”
“Maybe I’ll sit this round out,” I said.
Conrad and Kate Upton walked by hand-in-hand. Kate was wearing a pink, scooped-neck fitted tee, faded jean shorts and strappy red high-heeled sandals. I waved. Conrad glared and Kate gave me a dirty look.
Tenker grinned. “Don’t get any ideas about Conrad’s girl. He’ll b— Hey, I’ve got a class for you. The Art of FinDomme: Separating a Man from His Money. Mistress Candice is teaching.” He checked his watch. “Session starts in five minutes.” He handed me the schedule.
I handed it back without looking. “Not interested.”
“Why not? That’s perfect for you.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, no. I’ve spent way too much at the convention already. Bough dinner for a bunch of the ladies. Sapphire Rain maxed out one of my credit cards on gifts for herself. I even got Molly a jewel-encrusted, sterling silver cheese grater. No way I’m going to a class like that.”
“Come on! What are you afraid of?” said Tenker.
“Just what the title says: She’ll separate me from my money.”
“Pfft. Why did you even come to this convention anyway?”
“So I could hang out with my good Norwegian friend.”
“Well come hang out with me in Candice’s class.” He stood.
“Nope, I’m out.” I pointed to the snack bar. “Going to see if they can make a decent cheese steak.”
“Don’t deny your true nature, Minderbinder,” Tenker said ominously. He disappeared down the hall.
I stood, turned and found myself opposite Mistress Candice. I felt my face burning red.
She was taller than I remembered and dressed in all black leather: bustier, opera gloves, mini-skirt, and boots.
Contrasting with the black was a glittering array of diamond jewelry. Hoop ear-rings, choker, studded belt and on her right hand a ring holding a diamond the size of a cherry tomato. She flashed a dazzling smile at me.
“Milo! I heard you don’t want to come to my class.” Her smile became a pout.
“It’s not that...”
She took a deep breath and her breasts strained against the bustier.
I couldn’t help but glance down. “I mean, I just...”
She put her hands on her hips and struck a Wonder Woman power pose.
“Uh..” I had lost the power of speech.
She reached out and caressed my cheek. The touch of her glove set my blood boiling. She moved her hand down to my shoulder and removed an invisible piece of lint. The bulge in my pants grew. She fiddled with the collar of my shirt. I thought my heart was going to explode.
“One time, back when I was dancing, a bachelor party showed up at the club. I always like to size up the customers; got to be pretty good at predicting how generous they’d be. This group mostly I pegged to be decent tippers, but nothing special. Except for one quiet guy who stayed in the back. I knew as soon as I looked in his eyes, I’d get every dollar he had on him. Wouldn’t even need to take my clothes off.”
“W—Why are you telling me this?” I stammered.
She laughed. “Because you have the exact same look in your eye as the quiet guy.”
I said nothing.
She pulled close to me. Her perfume smelled like peach blossoms. Her lips brushed my ear and she whispered. “When I looked in his eyes, he knew it too.”
My body started to shake.
“He had $500 on him. Went through that less than ten minutes. Half an hour later he was at his ATM limit. Then the real fun began: His credit cards.
I wanted to scream, run, get away. But I couldn’t. I was stuck, trapped, as she continued to weave her web of seduction around me.
“Cash advances on American Express, Visa and two MasterCards. It was quite a profitable night. I’m sure he enjoyed it as well.”
I wobbled, but my feet wouldn’t move. Almost lost my balance.
“You seem a little unsteady.” Mistress Candice placed her hand on my left shoulder. “Probably a good idea if you get down on your knees.”
It did sound like a good idea, so I knelt.
I found myself staring at Mistress Candice’s shiny black leather thigh high boots, and I gasped.
“Oh? Do you like my boots, Milo?” She spun in a circle, giving me a complete look.
Four inch heels. That explained her unexpected height. Diamond studs running up and down the sides. Zippers up the back. A couple of inches of tanned thigh between the top of the boots and the hem of her skirt.
I’d always had a weakness for boots. But this combination, right in front of me, was more than I could handle. My heart was pounding. I couldn’t think. I just gawked at her boots.
“Don’t you just adore my boots, Milo?”
I didn’t speak. My mouth hung open. I might have drooled on the floor.
“Careful Milo, you don’t want to stare too long. You might become obsessed with my boots...”
“I—I—”
“Shush. Don’t try and speak. Just look and enjoy.” She flopped down on the couch, crossed her legs and pointed the toe of her left boot at me.
“Don’t think about how hot my boots are...
“Don’t think how you want my boots to control you...
“Don’t think of groveling before my boots...”
She laughed, uncrossed her legs, and twirled her toe inches from my face.
“Don’t think about kissing my boots...
“Don’t imagine the taste of leather in your mouth...
“Don’t fantasize about spending the rest of your life on your knees worshipping my boots...”
It was like she was whispering in each ear. And her voice was echoing in my mind.
I couldn’t think of anything other than her long, black, shiny boots.
And I did want to kiss them. Needed to kiss them. Felt compelled to kiss her boots.
I moved my head closer and puckered up my lips.
When I was just an inch away, she lifted her foot and I found myself staring at the sole of her left boot.
“Not so fast.” She giggled. “Maybe you should try not thinking about licking the bottoms of my boots...
“Don’t think about running your tongue along the soles...
“Don’t think about the taste of grit and dirt in your mouth...
“Don’t think about how humiliating it would be...”
She laughed and waved the sole of her boot in my face.
“Try not to think about it...
“Don’t let the idea of licking my soles consume you...
“Don’t become obsessed...
“Don’t allow the idea of being helplessly compelled to lick the bottom of my boots clean with your tongue to become your one and only thought...”
I was weak, helpless and beaten.
Her voice echoed in my head.
There was nothing I could do but debase myself. I would use my tongue to clean and clean the soles of her boots. And I would love it. I moved my head closer, opened my mouth, extended my tongue, a—
“Not yet. “ Her boots retreated. “If you want to clean my soles with your tongue, you’ll have to pay for the privilege.” She laughed. “Try not to think about that...
“Don’t think about paying me...
“Don’t think about how much you’d pay the lick the soles of my boots...
“Don’t think about how much I deserve your money...
“Don’t think about how good it would feel to hand over your wallet to me...
She shoved the sole of her right boot in my face and giggled.
The more she instructed me not to think about handing over my wallet, the more the idea twisted my soul.
“Don’t think about giving me your hard-earned cash, Milo...
“Don’t think that it will lead to you handing over your tax refund...
“Or even turning over your 401-k to me...”
I was desperate to do whatever she wanted. And she wanted my wallet.
I reached into my pocket, pulled it out and offered it to her.
She grabbed it from my hand. She rifled through it, grabbing the cash and credit cards and letting the empty wallet fall to the floor.
Mistress Candice held the booty up high. “And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, HypnoDommes and subs, is how you separate a man from his money.”
I heard the sound of applause. I looked around. This wasn’t the lobby. I was in one of the meeting rooms. Six rows of chairs were filled with convention members clapping wildly. In the center of the front row, My good Norwegian friend Tenker sat with a smile on his face and applauded harder than anyone else.