You didn’t choose to enter the room. The moment the sensation wrapped around your mind — cold, smooth, inescapable — your body stopped listening to you. Each step you took was not your own. Each breath you drew was stolen.
You knew something waited beyond the door. Something dangerous. Something you shouldn’t see.
But the invisible leash tightened, pulling you forward, until you crossed the threshold — helpless, obedient. And there she was.
Caitlyn Waiting for you.
You can’t move You can’t speak. You can’t breathe.
All you can do is stand there, helpless, while Caitlyn toys with you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
She lounges across the room like a vision conjured straight from your darkest fantasies. Blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, a wicked gleam in her eyes, and that outfit — that obscene, barely-there set of latex lingerie — painted over her like a second skin.
The bra isn’t even trying to be modest. A sharp cutout runs across the cups, baring the soft undercurves of her breasts, teasing you with just enough skin to make your mouth dry.
Her panties — if you could even call them that — are worse. Tight, tiny, scandalously cut, with a matching open slit that bares the soft swell of her ass whenever she shifts.
Every move she makes pulls at the latex, making it ripple and gleam, framing her body like a sin offering.
You can’t look away. You wouldn’t dare.
Caitlyn stretches lazily, arching her back just enough to make her breasts lift, to make the curve of her stomach tighten, to make every perfect, obscene line of her body scream for your hands.
You can feel your cock pulse hard in your pants, the mind control’s grip around you tightening with every frantic heartbeat. You’re frozen in place — left with no outlet but to drink her in.
She runs her hands over herself, as if admiring her own form — soft, slow touches that slide along the latex, down over her waist, her hips, her thighs. She palms her own breast, squeezing just enough to make the exposed flesh bulge, her thumb flicking idly over the hard peak beneath the thin material.
The soft, high creak of latex fills the room as she moves, every shift of her body a slow torture designed just for you.
You can see the heat shimmering off her skin. The way the latex clings to the moisture between her thighs. The way her muscles tense and relax under the gloss of the material, like she’s inviting you to tear it off with your teeth — but you can’t.
You can’t move. You can’t touch. You can only watch, and ache, and want.
Her finger traces lazy circles, inching closer and closer to the glistening heat between her legs, teasing herself — and you — with every pass.
Your cock throbs painfully, your whole body trembling with the need to move, to kneel, to beg. But you’re trapped — your muscles locked, your mind screaming inside the invisible prison she holds you in.
Caitlyn leans back slightly, resting her weight on one hand, and finally — finally — lets her other hand slip between her thighs.
A slow stroke. A teasing press of her palm against her latex-covered slit. A soft shiver that runs through her entire body.
Your mouth waters at the sight of her slick fingers spreading across the glossy material, dragging moisture from the open slit and smearing it shamelessly along her folds.
The way her hips roll into her own hand — slow, grinding movements — makes your cock twitch violently, leaking through your pants with every maddening, silent thrust.
She doesn’t even look at you now. You’re not important enough. You’re just there to witness.
Her fingers move in slow, tight circles, massaging her clit through the latex, making the material creak and stretch under her touch. Tiny, helpless gasps escape her lips — soft, broken sounds that stab through your heart and gut you with raw, desperate lust.
Your cock aches so badly it feels like it might tear free of your body. You whimper inside your head, voiceless and useless, trying to beg without words, without breath.
Caitlyn’s body flushes a deep, wicked pink, the heat rising under her skin, a shimmering glow that makes her look even more unreal. More divine. More untouchable.
Her back arches — latex stretching tight over the sweet curve of her ass — as she rubs harder, chasing her own pleasure while you can do nothing but watch.
You see the tension building in her thighs, the tremble in her hips, the way her fingers slip faster and faster against herself.
Her lips part in a gasp you can’t hear, and her free hand claws at her own breast, squeezing hard enough to make her whimper again.
You want to die. You want to explode. You want to serve.
But you’re still frozen — still locked — still denied.
Caitlyn sinks slowly back onto her heels, her chest heaving, her fingers still idly stroking lazy patterns along the slick latex clinging to her thighs. For one beautiful, shattering moment, she looks straight at you — her eyes heavy, dark, filled with something almost tender.
Almost.
And then— A smirk. A flash of teeth. A cruel, knowing glint in her eyes.
You blink — once, desperate and helpless — and she’s gone. Vanished like smoke, like a dream you weren’t worthy to keep.
You’re left there, alone. Still frozen. Still aching. Still achingly hard, cock dripping down your leg, heart hammering against the unrelenting silence.
Nothing left but the smell of latex and lust in the air. And the brutal, endless memory of her.
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