Mistress Mystique sat at the bar, nursing her drink and watching the patrons with a cold, calculating gaze. She was well-aware of the silent attraction they held for her; it was something she had become quite skilled at exploiting. Tonight, she spotted a man who seemed particularly enamored with her.
"Well, well," she purred, setting her drink down and turning toward him. "Aren't you just dying to see what's behind door number one?"
He looked up at her, eyes wide with both fear and desire. She could see the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to figure out what she meant.
"Come with me," she commanded, gesturing for him to follow her out of the bar and into the alley behind it. Once they were alone, she reached into her purse and produced a set of ropes.
"No," he whimpered, backing away from her. "I don't want this."
Mistress Mystique laughed coldly. "Oh, but you do," she assured him. "You always do."
Before he could protest further, she was upon him, pinning him against the wall and binding his wrists tightly behind his back. He struggled weakly, but she was far too strong for him. She dragged him to her car and threw him in the trunk before getting in herself and driving off into the night.
The car halted to a stop in a deserted parking garage. As instructed, he had been thinking of nothing else but her all night, so the sound of her unlocking the trunk didn't even faze him. He emerged, still bound and blinking away the dizziness from the ride.
"Now," Mistress Mystique purred, "it's time to play a little game." She pushed him down onto his knees and pulled her tight green leggings down over her plump derrière. His gaze tracked every move she made, his heart racing in his chest.
"Do you know why Black girls are so irresistible?" She asked, her voice low and sultry. "It's because men like you can't keep their eyes off our asses."
With that, she turned around and presented him with the perfect target. And just like that, he was hooked. He could not resist the urge to worship at the altar of her perfect bottom. He leaned forward, running his tongue and teeth along her supple cheeks. She gasped softly, the sound sending shivers down his spine.
"You like that, don't you?" She asked, her voice a sultry whisper. "You like being my toilet paper."
His reply was a muffled moan against her skin as he continued to lap at her curves. And so it went on, until he could feel the warmth of her urine trickling down his throat. She chuckled darkly, feeling the power she held over him course through her veins. As she finally untied him and sent him on his way, he couldn't help but wonder what other unspeakable desires lurked behind door number two. He knew he would find out soon enough.
