Part One

Our embrace was a fleeting comfort as an alarm went off at 7 am on a cold and cloudy Saturday in November. I acted like I was still asleep as she left my embrace to turn off her alarm and start her day. I rotated to my back and got a light kiss on the lips that I struggled not to reciprocate. I had worked late the night before and did not want her to feel guilty for waking me up. I kept my eyes closed as she got ready for a work meeting. What a waste of a Saturday. Listening carefully, I heard her descend the stairwell; her car loudly sped away. I was sad to be alone today, but grateful to have the opportunity to clean up our modest one-bedroom apartment. It is not much, but we always did our best with what he had. 

I got out of bed, throwing on a pair of dirty sweatpants and an old band shirt. No need to shower as our water heater did not work. Maintenance would come by later in the day to look at it. I doubted they would be here anytime soon as thunder and lightning rolled from outside. A severe thunderstorm warning blared from my phone; I was happy to be stuck at home. The hours passed as I completed chores. I finished four loads of laundry in chilly water. Disinfect every surface of the bathroom and kitchen. By the time I finished, the storm had passed, and all the cleaned laundry was put away. A spotless living room waited to greet my wife just as soon as she finished at work. 

The buzzer on our intercom screamed at me from across the room. I pressed the talk button and asked, “Hello?” There was no response. I headed downstairs, greeted by a black box. Around it is a ribbon holding a white card. Printed in black, “His” was on the card, but handwritten in red was 338, our apartment number. On the back was a single word: Enjoy. I looked around, not noticing anything out of the ordinary, but I felt eyes on me. There was a suspicious seven-series BMW clad in black. A stark juxtaposition to my elderly Grand Marquis parked right next to it. I started at the out-of-place luxury car quizzically, but utility workers outside the building opposite distracted me. The sharp stab of social anxiety drove me back inside. Up the stairs and through the doors, I quickly passed through the living room to the safety of the bed I had made earlier. My package in hand, and my interest piqued. 

Curiously, I cut away the ribbon to pull open the top of the box, without a clue to what it held. My eyes grew wide in shock. The box was full of black latex & leather fetish gear. I looked again at the card that had gone with the package, but it revealed no answer to the mystery before me. Had my wife ordered this? She talked to me about trying new things. Weeks ago, she had dressed up in a cheap cat-woman costume, and we had had fun during her office Halloween party. Drunk, sneaking around, we had sex on her boss’s desk. After that, we looked online at things like this, but it was all so expensive. This stuff was on a whole other level; I did not expect anything so extreme. It was too much to process. I tossed the taboo pile back in the box. Thinking of what to say about it as soon as my other half comes back home. I set the box aside, but my willpower lasted only seconds.

I could not distract myself from the smell of rubber that had wafted into my mind. There was a strange pleasure in the aroma. The smell infected me. I looked helplessly from the bedroom mirror at a puppet with an unknown master. I was no longer in control, and another was taking over.

Compelled, I opened the box and took a deep breath. Lying its contents on the bed. I pulled a chain leash snaked out. A leather harness and matching spiked collar. A bundle of fishnets. Black latex pants, black latex gloves & black latex toe socks. Finally, at the bottom, an adjustable latex full-face mask. Open holes in the eyes and mouth. I held the mask in my hands, admiring the buckles on the back. I pressed the latex against my lips and took in its bouquet. I unconsciously tossed my sweatpants and band shirt in the empty hamper. The mask lay still on the bed. If it were to speak, it would demand, “Wear me.” Or was that me asking permission to wear it? Without a thought otherwise, I answered the call of the veil.

Styled like a pair of jeans, the latex leggings barely stretched over my thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination. Scantily able to zip them and button up the waistband. They lifted my butt and accentuated curves I did not even know I had. My Iliac furrows shot out of the waistband. Never had a pair of cum gutters needed to use so badly. My heart started pounding, and blood started to boil. My feet stretched the socks beyond what I thought would have been possible, as my toes popped into each individual digit. Pulling them up my calf, they sealed at the pants, making a seamless match. Creaking black latex gloves inhaled my hands running up my forearms. Gloved hands wandered between my thighs, teasing me mercilessly. It was all so tight & smooth. I spanked the glossy ass, met with a sound and feeling beyond satisfaction. My blood was pumping.

It was all so overwhelming, and despite the massive distraction growing down my thigh, I kept on venturing into the deep. The pile of fishnets unfurled into a shirt. It was tight around my abdomen, as was the leather harness I had placed on top. The harness groaned around my heaving shoulders & chest as I tightened it more. Fishnets and leather barely contained my bulging upper body. I gave the harness a healthy tug; the creak it let out was otherworldly. 

My head was swimming, and my body enraptured. It was far too late to turn back now. Time no longer had meaning; my life, as I had known it, was in the distant past. I slid the latex mask over my head. My eyes shone through the pointed eye holes; my mouth pouted through the mask’s maw. Full lips, plump and ready for attention, showed through. I tightened the buckles at the back of the mask. The sounds of the outside world muffled, but my vision felt sharper. I focused on the spiked collar, tightening it around the latex plunging down my neck, locking the mask in place. 

I turned to the full-length bedroom mirror & ceased to be. 

The person looking back was completely unlike anyone I had seen before. They lustfully stared back from the mirror, past my soul, into a void I had never explored. Had this always been a part of me? I had become a fantasy unlike anything I could have ever imagined. But the last piece still lay on the bed. I reached for my leash & clicked the shiny chain to the O-ring at the front of my spiked collar. At that point, my heart pounded harder than it ever had before. My entire body vibrating, I felt irresistible and insatiable. 

My blood was fire & rushing straight to my groin. The latex grew even tighter, as the outline of my phallus stretched halfway down the length of my right inner thigh. The urge for release was too much to ignore. I reached down to feel it. I rubbed the length of my cock through my latex pants; it was sweltering. I felt my pulse surge through it. At that moment, the reality of what I had done hit. I snapped back to the man I was. 

What was I doing? What would happen if someone saw me dressed like a BDSM wet dream? This was not like me at all. I fumbled at the buckles on the back of my head at the realization. I could not tell if I was unable or unwilling to undo them. Fear came to the front of my mind. The living room door, had I locked it? Did I even close it all the way? I had a terrible habit of leaving the front door propped open. A maintenance person still had to come and fix the water heater. What if they just walked in with no resistance? A concerned neighbor could walk through the door at any second. And my wife would be home at any minute. Seeing me like this was the best scenario; I could deal with that embarrassment at least. I cannot let anyone see me like this. I needed to get out of this stuff at once!

I was in a full panic. I looked in the bedroom mirror; I saw my true self. I was calmly standing at the edge of the bed, grabbing at the hardest cock I had ever seen, my eyes begging for release. My gloved hands are acting on their own. They found that person I had become. I needed to cum, now. 

I lay down & unzipped my latex pants. I pulled my cock free; it stood proudly beautiful. Pre-cum spilling down the tip. My gloved hands rubbed the cum onto the head of my penis, then down the shaft. I gripped it tight. Every inch screamed out for release. I licked my fingers and stroked fast and hard. My other hand is gripping the leash tight, pulling my shoulders off the bed by the collar around my neck. Eyes rolling to the back of my head, I let out a loud, sultry moan as the bedroom door opened.

At that moment, I came hard, shooting cum past my chin onto my latex-clad face. I could taste salt on pouting lips. The anxiety of capture was a problem for the old me in a distant past life. I no longer cared who could have seen me. An exhibition for the person waiting at the open door. At that moment, I knew exactly who I had become and what I needed. My future life simplified. I am a slut, and I need to fuck. I slowly sat up, cock still pulsing semen. I let go of my cock and wiped cum from my mask. Then licked it from my latex-clad fingers. All while looking directly at the devil in the open doorway. 

I held out my leash and said, “Deal with this.”

Part Two

The alarm on my phone went off at 7 am, and I fumbled to turn it off. A heavy ping of worry rang through my chest. My husband lay beside me, still sleeping like an angel. I could not believe I had to go into the office on a Saturday. Weekends were our only time together. He worked nights, and I worked mornings, and never did we meet. I would give anything to have breakfast together and spend the day cleaning our little apartment. We will be together later today and tomorrow. Just like we always did. Still sleeping, he shifted to his back, morning wood at full attention. We had married for love, but that cock was a huge plus. I kissed his lips with a quick peck. I wanted more, but he had a late night, and I had an early morning to get to. 

My spirit was low, so I got out of bed to start the day. Laundry littered the bedroom, and the apartment was dirty. Thankfully, my husband had the day to take care of it. No bother showering, as our water heater was not working. The building’s maintenance department said they would be by today to fix it. So, a quick slut’s bath was all the action I would get this morning. Who schedules a meeting on Saturday morning? The answer, a boss who did not even remember scheduling it. Completely over his incompetence, I dressed accordingly. Yesterday’s khakis, a fresh white blouse, and my last pair of clean panties, complete with my most beige bra. I looked out of our window. The clouds were rolling in dark, so I grabbed my long yellow raincoat, my work bag, and then headed out the five doors and down the two staircases to get out of our apartment building. If my husband were awake, he would have heard every step and door on my way out. Not to mention my car parked under our balcony. There was a hole in the exhaust, starting it could wake the dead. The dashboard warning lights lit up like a Christmas tree. There were so many things wrong with the car, but it worked enough to get me where I needed to be. 

I pulled up to the office building just as it started to rain. The lot was empty except for the boss’s jet-black BMW with its dark-tinted windows. He had parked across a handicapped spot up front, claiming it for himself. My badly rusted Nissan Stanza puttered by and parked in the row behind it. “Like a reasonable human being,” I said to myself. I flipped up my Nissan’s parking brake. Flipped off the empty BMW. Then flipped up the yellow rubber hood of the raincoat. Took a deep breath through my nose to quell my anxiety. The smell of rubber was comforting as the freezing rain struck the cracked windshield. I got out of the car and calmly walked into the multi-story office building. Walking between the raindrops, the yellow rubber raincoat, and I welcomed the coming storm. 

My job title was meaningless; junior executive to the vice president was a wordy way of saying babysitter. My boss was nothing more than youthful livestock in a wealthy family. Just out of an Ivy League college. Bred to be an executive material from birth. He came to work here because his family name was on top of the building and all the stationery. Generational wealth had its benefits, I suppose, not that I would ever know. He was no doubt privileged to an unimaginable dowry, provided he was able to keep increasing shareholder value. Whatever that meant. A figurehead to a system run on human misery. He got to be here as he pleased, but I had to be here whenever he said. A truly contemptible person, I relished every opportunity to put him in his place. I did this often. It was as if he enjoyed humiliation, so he kept me close and gave me an absurd job title. So now I enjoy both a wage just above the poverty line and a company credit card that was somehow nearly maxed out from fetching whatever he wanted. 

Rows of empty cubicles beside a wall of windows overlooking the scenic parking lot. Supplementally lit by cold, humming tubes, the light from outside diminished as the storm continued to roll in. Vacuum cleaners hummed at the other side of the building; the janitorial staff was busy tending to their business. I followed the darkened windows to my desk just outside the boss’s empty corner office. He either forgot or he was running late; I was hoping for the former. Remembering that he had left early Friday, he had abandoned his double-parked BMW to ride off with his college friends on a party bus. It was no use trying to contact him; he would only text when he wanted something, and he would only email back if his father was on the contact list. Relieved to be unsupervised, I arrived at my desk. Greeted only by a pair of black boxes, one sitting on my closed laptop, a red ribbon sealed it with a bone-colored tag that said Hers on it. The other beside it had a black ribbon and an eggshell-colored card that said His. A clash of lightning streaked across the sky. 

I removed my raincoat and draped it over the back of the office chair. I had gone through all the trouble of getting here, and the sky was black now. Sheets of rain are pelting the windows. I cannot leave anytime soon and must wait for the storm to clear. I turned my attention to packages on my desk, both the same shade of dark as the clouds. I took the larger box labeled Hers, cut the red ribbon, and pulled it open. The familiar smell of a raincoat wafted from the box. A pair of onyx Louboutin pumps with red bottoms shone, lying in wait. Dumbfounded by a pair of shoes that were worth more than my car, and there was more. Underneath the shoes were carefully packed pieces of designer fetish gear. It felt warm and smooth on my cold fingertips.

Instinctively I brushed it against my lips and took a deep breath through my nose, feeling a strange comfort. My body rang electric as I picked up a stiff riding crop and slashed it through the air. Lastly, the pile of latex and buckles revealed a leather strap on harness with a dildo attached. This was what our off-the-book meeting was supposed to be about. Did he know what I did to his desk during the Halloween party? Did he interpret that as a BDSM fantasy for a spoiled cuck? This was just another way for him to use me. My stomach turned at the thought of that man as a sexual creature. My blood boiled, years of contempt working under his control coming to a head. I stuffed the tainted lingerie back in its box. I grabbed the heels and could not help but admire their elegant simplicity. With that envy, something snapped inside me. My career path was about to change drastically. I took a picture of the pumps in my hand and sent it to my boss. 

I unlocked my boss’s corner office, juggling both boxes as I fumbled through the door and locked it behind me. I flipped on every light in the room. I pulled out my phone and started recording a video. Propping the phone up in a sad-looking office plant opposite the desk. I grabbed a chair and then barricaded myself in his private bathroom. “Okay,” I thought, “it’s just me and several thousand dollars’ worth of fetish clothing.” I tossed his still-sealed box on the ground of the bathroom, then poured the contents of my box into the sink. I lovingly placed my new heels on the ground. My phone dinged. Three fire emojis, and the message “brt. Uber is slow. don't get start whout my.” I did not think I could have hated him more, which was good, as that disdain would further fuel action. 

Quickly sorting through the pile of shiny black latex. I unfurled leggings with a zip-through crotch, mid-arm gloves, a buckle-up corset styled like a halter top, with a spiked choker. Lastly, a shiny black mask to complete the ensemble with open eye and mouth holes completed, and two cute little devil horns. I could not believe what I was about to do, but in my heart of hearts, I was excited to indulge this side of myself. I introduced my husband to my dormant fetish during the office Halloween party two weeks ago. I had too much to drink that night and confessed my kink to him. I had dressed up in a store-bought Cat-woman costume and played a drunken bargain bin dominatrix. My husband did not judge me or belittle me; he indulged me lovingly on top of my boss’s desk. We could never afford anything like what lay before me. I wanted to share this with him. I deserved it.

My mind flooded with yearning, but time was of the essence. I kicked off my slip-on tennis shoes, hurriedly unbuttoned my white blouse, and the chilly air on my skin was a relief to the static that had built up in my chest. I unclasped my bra. I was vibrating as I pulled off the wrinkled khakis. Then kicking off my granny panties. I looked down at my skivvies and noticed a fresh stain. Eager for what was coming next, I gave in. 

I worked my digits into the latex toe socks attached to the leggings, enjoying the squish and squeezing as my feet filled in the attached socks. They wrapped my calves then spread up my thighs, as a nearby clash of thunder and lightning shook the building. I could feel the electricity traveling up to my pelvic mound. Pulling gently, they cinched perfectly around my waist. I glanced in the mirror; my reflection winked back at me. I giggled to myself as I zipped down the back through the crotch, the latex flap settled on the lips of my pussy, protecting her from the zipper. I stood tall, admiring my defiant ass and the curves of my thighs. Perfectly tailored just for me, but of course it was, all of this is mine. 

While hurriedly undoing the buckles on the front of the corset, I realized. This is all mine to do with as I please. Why should I rush? This was an opportunity to exercise and take back control. So, what if my boss got here before I finished? Looking at the riding crop, I exclaimed to myself, “The swine will just have to wait.” After that, I took my time. Letting myself enjoy each moment as a victory. I pulled the corset around my back, encasing my abdomen, gently raising my chest while buckling together at the front. Stomach lightly cinched, under my gravity-defying breast. The spiked collar fastened around my throat, benevolently squeezing. The O-ring at the center of the choker pulled the straps running down my bust, lifting it further. I took a deep breath. The latex corset was soft and expanded as it gently held my exaggerated assets. The smooth latex teased my nipples; they stood out proudly, aching for attention. I looked back in the mirror at the dominatrix staring back at me and gave up control of her.

My black gloves cracked as they slithered their way to life. They drew halfway up lithe strong arms. With desire of their own, the wrapped hands caressed smooth curves up past the buckles holding my ribs. The latex creaking as hands began teasing my eager breasts. I let out a low moan as the left traveled up and held my throat. The right plunged to my pelvis. Fingers deftly undoing the zipper past a starving cunt. Smooth fingertips teased my clit, and the electricity in the air matched the power building inside my chest. The first orgasm was an hors d’oeuvre as lightning cracked and thunder rolled. There was more to come, but now my attention turned to Christian Louboutin. 

My toes squeaked with joy as I slipped them into the heels. The designer shoes were unexpectedly comfortable; they fit like my gloves and shone just the same. The short heels engaged my calves as I stood up. I was staring at the already exaggerated curves of my legs and ass, dialing me up even further. I was well past the breaking point. I grabbed the dildo the leather strap swung underneath it. I sat down in the chair that held the door shut and opened myself up to the rubber phallus. I greedily took it, as I heard the door of the office unlock & open. A sharp stab of anxiety hit me. The dominatrix in the mirror locked eyes with me. Through the closed bathroom door, her reflection yelled out, “Do not touch a fucking thing and do not make a sound. Bend over the desk and wait for me to finish.”

A befuddled, “Okay…” murmured through the bathroom door. 

The reflection gave up an exaggerated low moan. My cunt overwhelmed and dominated my focus. My legs stretched out as instinct took over. The smell of my own fluids mixed like a tonic with the scent of latex in the room. The tip of my tongue reached out for a lover that was not there. Intoxicated, I plunged deeper into myself and found out exactly who I was. As another organism shot out of me and left a fragrant stain on the chair. Let that be a memento for the pig. It would be the second closest he had ever come to my pussy. I pulled the lifeless dildo out and tossed it. The leather straps still attached fluttered behind as the dildo hit the mirror with a wet thud, ricocheting into the sink. 

I stood up and walked back to the mirror, planting a kiss on the woman who had liberated me. No one else here deserved such attention. So, I took my time. I rinsed the dildo off in the sink, wrapping it in my khakis with the strap-on. I packed my new devil mask, riding crop, and the bundle holding my false cock. I fixed my white blouse up my bare shoulders. Tying the ends together in front of my stomach, rather than buttoning it shut. “Playful and office appropriate,” I said aloud. My latex lingerie proudly framed by white cotton. I looked down, then palmed my filthy panties; a wry smile cracked across my face. I moved the chair that blocked the door and stacked the black His and Hers boxes. The reflection of the dominatrix looked beyond pride in all our choices. I walked into the office to break my piggy bank. 

Part Three

The heels of the Louboutins muted while walking onto cheap office carpeting. There I saw it. The most shocking thing about today. My boss had done exactly what I told him. There he was, bent over the desk, reeking of body odor and all the fun he had had last night. The second most shocking thing was pointing at the ceiling. He had taken his pants off. His bare ass is pointing outward with a bejeweled butt plug sparkling out. That sight was enough to kill the woman I had just liberated. He nearly sent me running. The shock quickly morphed from secondhand embarrassment to righteous anger. 

“Pull your pants up and turn around now,” I commanded.

 He complied while turning to face me and nervously exclaiming, “I’m sorry, Jan…”

Designer heels dug into the carpeting as my open hand smacked hard across his face. “You will not make eye contact with me, you will not address me, and you will sure as fuck keep my name out of your useless mouth, unless I say otherwise.”

Visibly shaken, he simply replied, “Damn Jan...”

I smacked him again in the same spot, even harder. He doubled over onto the desk behind him. My sting in my hand sang to me. This was a play for me.

“You are now called Piggy,” I said, revealing his new name. 

I stripped away his sense of entitlement. He no longer had a title or even a name. Still in shock, Piggy looked down at the carpeting in front of where I was standing and simply nodded, whispering, “Yes.” 

I explained our new relationship to him, “First off, you are promoting me. I am now an executive vice president. You are going to add a zero to the end of my yearly income, with room for promotion in the future. My new position works remotely. I come to the office only if I consider it necessary. You will provide me with a company car of my choice. And the credit card I have for business expenses is now mine to use as I please.

He nodded yes again as sweat built up around his brow. In a nebbish tone, Piggy asked, “Why should I?”

Rather than striking him a third time, I wordlessly walked over to retrieve my phone from its perch. I stopped the recording to show him the video of himself pulling his pants down, playing with himself to completion, and then pulling his pants down. My moaning muffled in the background of the movie we made together. I stopped the playback just as I walked into frame. 

“Bad Piggy,” I said. “Who knows what would happen if this were shown to the right person?”

The Pig’s face went ivory white at the sight of his own shame. His mouth stuck open, staring at me. 

“Don’t worry, Piggy, it’s not so bad, I do have a parting gift for you to remember me by,” I took my dirty panties and balled them up into Piggy’s still gaping mouth. I could not tell if it was sweat or a tear running down the side of his face as I did. Piggy closed his jaw around my dirty laundry as much as he could and took a deep breath through his nose.

Now I commanded him, “Go into the bathroom and fetch my things, you’ll find them stacked on the sink.”

He looked on and wordlessly complained. His face flushed, and his steps were awkward. He came out of the bathroom holding my boxes in front of his hips to hide his pathetic arousal. 

“Now follow,” I goated. 

I felt Piggy’s eyes on me as he followed behind me. Sauntering out of his office to my desk. Exaggerating the movement of my hips from side to side. I teased Piggy with each step. Pulling at the back of my old office chair, I tossed my raincoat dramatically in the air, slipped a hand deftly through a sleeve just as the coat landed around my other shoulder. I pulled my bag from beside the desk. Then placed it on top of the boxes Piggy was quickly holding. 

It was as if his will to live perspired out of his body. We walked over to the elevator. I commanded, “Push the button.” His perspiration matched the precipitation tapping against the windows. I got into the elevator as I directed Piggy to take the stairs. 

I only waited in the lobby for thirty seconds when Piggy appeared from the stairwell. He must have run down the steps; he was visibly winded. Mouth still full of the old me. Breathing hard through his nose. I walked him out into the rainy parking lot, over to the BMW he had parked in a handicapped space and abandoned yesterday. 

“Open the trunk,” I charged. He fumbled for his key fob while comically balancing my effects. He pressed a button, and the trunk sprang open. I walked him over to the boot and told him, “Gently place my property inside.” He did my bidding. 

“Now, Piggy, wait for me by the driver's side door.” 

Fetching my bag, I sauntered up to Piggy. I felt like I was walking between the raindrops. He stood there, soaked, his crying lost to the rain. 

“The Key,” I explained, holding out my hand, waiting. He reluctantly placed the key fob in my hand. 

Met with a muffled, “But my car.”

“Don’t worry, Piggy, I wouldn’t strand you here.” As I said that, I produced the keys to Piggy’s 1992 Nissan Stanza. “Hope you can drive a stick shift,” I warned as I slipped into the driver’s seat of my new ride. The BMW sprang to life with the push of a button, and the exhaust shouted from its slumber. The windshield wipers sped to life as I lowered the tinted driver's side window. 

“Now go back inside and finish your workday. You may leave the building when I tell you.”

 He stood there still reeling from what had just happened, his reflection shrank in the rear view mirror as I coasted away. It was a busy day for the new me, and it was not even noon yet. Driving home in the lap of luxury, surrounded by esoteric buttons and knobs I had yet to understand. The heated leather seat gently warmed the latex I was clad in. The smell of rubber comforted me. Excited for the first time in a long time, the sky parted, and the November rain began to slow. One last roll of thunder struck in the long distance. A polished, gloved hand gripped the steering wheel. The other slowly stroked up a glossy black thigh. Another idea came to mind. 

The rain had finally stopped as I parked at the front door of our apartment complex. Searching around inside the sedan, I produced a red pen from the glove box. Stepping out of the car heels clicked loudly on the pavement. I tossed off my raincoat and left it on the passenger seat. I opened the trunk and tossed my open box onto my raincoat. I produced the unopened black box from the boot, writing our apartment’s number in red pen over the word His, and on the back of the card I wrote the word, “Enjoy.” Heels clicked quickly as I walked up to the front door and hit the buzzer for 338. Guilty of the kinkiest ding-dong ditch ever, I sprinted back into the BMW and backed into my assigned parking spot right next to my husband’s Grand Marquis.

He walked out the door and grabbed the bait while looking around. He locked onto the blacked-out BMW parked next to his car for a brief second. I felt seen, but the limousine's tinted windows obfuscated his view. I locked eyes with him, still hungry for him this morning. He turned to see people working outside on the building across from ours, and no doubt propelled by social anxiety, quickly darted back into the building. “His curiosity would get the better of him,” I thought, and I wondered what was in his box and looked forward to finding out soon, but first, I had housekeeping items for me to deal with. 

Playing with all the switches and features in the BMW was a fun distraction. My phone synchronized to the radio with a satisfying beep-boop sound. A quick call to our building manager informing them about the new car to avoid getting it towed. I then informed the manager that my husband and I would not be renewing our lease. Our lifestyle was set to change dramatically starting today. I dropped the sun visor, and with the flick of a switch, it illuminated the mirror inside. The dominatrix’s reflection was comforting, but it needed to match the rest of her.

Pulling an eye shadow palette out of my bag, I brushed a subtle layer of blue on her eyelids. Complimenting it with a shade of my favorite dark red lipstick. I blew her a kiss, and she smiled back. I was ready for the final puzzle piece. The reflection stretched the black latex devil mask over short, cropped hair. Its eye and mouth holes highlighted alluring facial features. Temporarily releasing the collar only to fasten it again, on top of the latex that hugged my neck. Locking on the mask that cloaked my identity. The little devil horns poked up proudly, shining from the top of my forehead. Icy eyes wandered down my body. I had become the devil herself; I was hot as hell.

My body heat was overwhelming. The windows began to fog up inside the car. I leaned the seat all the way back as it gently massaged me with the press of a button. My hands ran down the side of my shiny new face, fine-tuning its position. I gently touched the exposed soft skin around deep crimson lips. Letting out a gentle sigh into the ambling appendage. As I gripped my chest with both hands, my breast heaving with nipples protruding, my breath grew heavier as I teased. The black-tinted windows diffused the light outside through a now-thick layer of fog.

Heels dug deep into the carpeted floor mats as I deftly unzipped the leggings front to back. The car was now a hot box of scents, the leather seats, the latex covering me drew out a sheen of sweat and pure sexual desire. I reached into the open box and gripped the virgin riding crop. Left hand spreading the lips of my genitalia, the right rubbed the smooth tip of the whip into my clitoris. A loud sigh involuntarily escaped. I tapped my clit gently and let out a short, sharp moan with each impact. As the intensity increased, a small orgasm broke out of me.

The leather tip of the riding crop was slick with my cum. I flipped it around in my hand and greedily plunged the handle of the riding crop into myself. Moisture absorbed by the leather-wrapped handle, I robbed the lash of its virginity. I watch myself, now a horned succubus fucking itself publicly. A thin layer of precipitation and tinted glass was all that stopped people walking by from seeing my carnal act of self-love.

My exhibitionist performance temporarily drew the attention of barely visible figures going about their business. I wanted them to see. Increasing the intensity of my masturbation to match the vibration of the driver’s seat. Sending myself past the deep end. I screamed in wanton lust at the thought of strangers watching. The next climax was so hard I spattered onto the bottom of the steering wheel and into the driver’s seat. The orgasm instantly anesthetized me; everything went black. 

An hour passed. Smoky eyelids tenderly welcomed the remaining November sunlight. It was now mid to late afternoon. My second skin creaked as I stretched awake. Zipping up my pants, I took one last deep breath in my car. I tilted the rear-view mirror and adjusted the dominatrix’s blouse and mask one last time. My metamorphosis into her felt complete; I had made myself all that I wanted today. I rose from the luxury German chrysalis to greet my old life. Bag on my shoulder with a riding crop in hand. Standing tall, the Louboutins lifted me three inches, but I felt fifty feet tall. 

As I approached my building, I saw a pair of evangelicals at the apartment complex’s front door. They buzzed every apartment, no doubt in the hopes that they would find someone to convert. The clicking of heels and my demonic, horned shadow alerted them to the presence behind them. 

They launched into a speech while turning to meet me, “Do you have a moment to talk about your immortal soul…” The last word drifted on long, as they noticed the devil standing before them. They froze, transfixed by the look of a fallen angel before them. 

I reached out with my riding crop; its sullied tip poked into the chest of the missionary that had the nerve to address me. I retorted, “I’m not interested in saving my soul, but maybe I could devour both of yours instead.” I bit the air in front of them, and my teeth let out a loud clack, my lips parting into a demonic grin as I giggled. They yelped in unison, launched backwards, and fell onto the closed door behind. Quickly scattering away in opposite directions. 

I sauntered through the five doors and up the two staircases to find our front door unlocked and partially open. Our living room was as silent as it was spotless. My doting husband cleaned and organized it from top to bottom. I removed my work shirt and tossed it on the couch with a playful defiance. Softly, I closed and locked the deadbolt behind me. The familiar sound of latex creaked from behind our closed bedroom door. I approached silently, struggling to hold my curiosity. Turning the knob of our bedroom door, I peeked inside. 

A feral creature clad in latex and fishnets lay in our bed. Shining black legs outstretched with a familiar cock extended deliciously outward. A gloved right hand ran up and down its length, strong, sensuously accentuating every inch of it. He had always been big, but seeing him this way stirred a feeling beyond seduction. The smooth leather tip of the riding crop met my lips.

Unknowingly, I licked the end, watching him from the crack in the doorway. The fingers of his left hand covered his mouth. He struggled to stay silent as the intensity built; this slut extended his tongue to lick what had muted him. The saliva-soaked left traded places with the right. Pre-cum slowly spilling from his cock mixed with spit. No longer fighting, it stroked even faster. Spying still, I bit down hard on the leather tip of my whip to mute my moaning when I began rubbing my aching clit. Gorgeous cock glistening, he grabbed a leash and pulled himself up by a spiked collar around his neck.

His lean upper body clad in fishnets and leather looked divine. His shoulders hovered over the bed as his abdomen flexed. Arms tense and curve, promising a strength I lusted after. Exposed eyes rolled to the back of his glossy masked face. Tongue stretched out, desperate for connection.

The door pushed open to make contact. In that moment, a loud, low moan shot out from a lust-crazed animal. The cum shot was enormous and splashed against his masked face onto plump, exposed lips. Sitting up, he investigated me standing in the doorway. He wiped the cum with a latex-covered hand. Fingers coated with semen, he greedily licked them clean, never breaking eye contact.

He held out his leash and said, “Deal with this.”

“With pleasure,” I responded. Tossing the riding crop beside him in our bed. I took his leash in hand. 

A quick step back was all it took to brace my strong legs. Pulling at the chain, he stood up. Standing, he towered over me. Cock proudly pulsing at the sight of me, semen dripped from the tip. I pulled downward, and the leash forced him to his knees. 

I asked him to open his mouth, to which he responded, “Yes, kitty.” A sliver of the man I love peeked through the monstrous slut kneeling before me. The man I married and this depraved creature were starkly juxtaposed, but both were pining my attention. We locked eyes. 

He rested his gloved hands upon my hips. I bent down slightly to meet him. Licking cum off the side of his latex-clad face. I spat into his hungry mouth. 

He looked straight through me and swallowed without hesitation. He said, “I love you.”

I gave up control. Started kissing him deeply, grasping at the sides of his face. Red lipstick smeared between us. As our bodies were writhing together. He reached out, a hand holding firm at the curve of my corseted back. The other touched lightly at my concealed cheek. He turned to kiss up my bare shoulder just underneath my spiked collar. Instinctively, I pulled his leash, and he hugged me warmly. I hugged him back. In that moment, the embrace was all we needed. The smell was comforting.