Camille Black Streamate's Profile

Languages: English

Location: Your fantasy land

Body Decorations: Tattoos

Smokes/Drinks: Smoke only during private

Interested In: Men, Women, Trans, Couples

Body Type: Slim

Camille Black Streamate - It turns the guys on your staff.

***** "The House for Men", I hear you say. But I am filled with dread. You have given birth to your family. I hear you sob in the hall. One last visit to the gentlemen from the wine cellar. I return to the living room for a hot shower. I am very nervous. How will I look? Will my dress be considered property? Or will I be allowed to wear it as a mark of my respect? My thoughts are interrupted by the loud CRACK! From across the room. You are standing, arms braced back, smoking a cigarette. Two more from behind the screen. And a third that has not been touched. The two attackers have a look on their faces that is unlike the attack from the naked eye. They are tall, strong and handsome, the jaw of which is set in a tiny, perfect little chin. They make their appearance as if by conscious choice.

The brilliant silver of their suits gives them the effect of momentum. They move quickly, unexpectedly, across the room, almost dragging me with them. I have to fight down the urge to turn and kiss you. But the looks they give me, the fire in their eyes, speak for me. They are the attackers. They break my defenses down, physically and mentally. I cannot make any headway against them. They are much stronger than I, hundreds of pounds of solid silver, gleaming in the arc of the light. Their odor fills the small room. When I try to recall, or imagine, what happened, it is like a fog lifts over me. Like the spark that consumes a fire, it gathers and dissipates. The intensity of their fire, the slow building of their tension, the searing heat of their throbbing veins in my mouth, my tongue and throat, the roughness of their coats against my skin... I think I will faint. I know it. I am like a drowning man, though none of the surrounding smoke, the water vapor that fills the room, draws away the man's attention.

I am helpless, in the grip of an invader that has conquered me. I listen to the wild cacophony of the crowd. I hear voices, some telling me I am a rapist, some tell me I am a slut, some tell me to swallow their cum and drink their piss. It drives me mad. There are women here too, under the table, on the outside, near the men. Black leather cuffs and chains, slung about like an animal's leather shoelaces. A man has his arms almost to his sides, almost stretched across. His body is exposed, his face inches from mine. The chains in his hands are tangled so that his back is arched, out of my view, trapped. There are three of them, pushing me forward towards their leader. They pull my hair. Their leader speaks. "Follow me, little girl. We will take you to the big city and train you for the big day." They lead me, after pulling me through the crowd, to an impromptu booth in the foyer..

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