The Mask Of Mistress Eva.

Curious, I put the large leather briefcase on the kitchen table and open the lid. Inside there’s a dress made from bright red shiny latex. I lift it out gently and lay it out flat on the table. 

‘What the…?’ I ask myself softly.  I’ve not seen anything quite like this and  I am very pleasantly surprised by just how smooth and soft latex feels. I find myself caressing it gently with my fingers. I’ve never been interested in the fetish scene, but the sight of this dress takes my breath away. 

The briefcase belonged to an old man called Cyril, who used to live next door but who died a month ago.  For some unfathomable reason he left this briefcase to me in his will. I cannot figure out why. I really didn’t know him well. The first time I met him, I realised he was ill and from then on I decided to keep an eye on him. I called round and helped him out with a few things, just being neighbourly, that was all. I cannot understand why Cyril would want me to have this.  What was he doing with it in the first place?  

I start to look around inside the briefcase. I pull out a pair of black latex heels, unusually large in size for a woman, and then fetch out three soft pink latex bags. Inside the first one is a latex mask, beautifully made in soft skin-toned latex, with perfect little holes for the mouth and eyes. Inside the second is a beautifully made wig of long thick shiny black hair, and inside the third, several pairs of long red latex gloves and tights. 

Could this really be stuff that Cyril used to wear?  It would have fitted him i guess. He was always a bit coy when it came to talking about hmself. I’d heard fom a neighbour that he used to travel regularly to Germany for business  but no-one knew what kind. 

At the bottom of the briefcase is a black box and inside, carefully wrapped in soft tissue paper, is a pair of shapely silicon breasts. I lift them out carefully. I can’t resist caressing the soft pink rubbery nipple with the tip of his finger. It dawns on me that these clothes can transform anyone who fitted them, into a stunning latex clad femme fatale.

‘Cyril, you cheeky old bastard.’ I say to myself.  

I put the clothing and the masks back in the briefcase and put it behind my wardrobe. I decide it’s something I really can’t deal with at the moment.  

But in the days that follow I find myself thinking about the dress. One night I can’t resist fetching out the briefcase and laying out the contents neatly on his bed. This time I find something else. Tucked away in the bottom of the case is a silver powder box. I smell the soft pink talc and it has a sweet and captivating scent. For several minutes I gaze down at the shiny latex clothing. My mouth is dry and my hands are quivering. 

What the hell, I mumble to myself. I undress, pick up the rubber breasts, slip them on, fasten the straps tight. Wow, They feel strange.  I apply the talc to my skin and slip into the long red rubber dress. It’s delightfully tight.  Then I slide my legs into the long latex boots and pull up the long zips at the side right to the top. They are a perfect fit. It takes a few minutes to get the skin coloured latex mask on straight, and then finally I fit the wig of long white hair. I turn and look at myself in the mirror.  Instantly I am stunned by the sight of this female form. A wave of sensual energy surges through me, something I have never felt before. The latex feels wonderfully tight against my skin. I wobble a bit on the heels, take a few steps, gingerly at first, till I can get the hang of the heels. Soon I’m walking up and down the bedroom, more comfortably, and more sensually.

I step up close to the mirror, and gently touch my rubberised face. The mask is subtly layered and the features of his face are smooth and feminine.  The size and shape of the mouth hole force lips to protrude, and it looks like I’m pouching my lips in a provocative way. I like the look. It makes me feel like I’m in control. I need lipstick. I check in the pocket of the briefcase and sure enough I find a stick of bright red lipstick. I put it on carefully, and now I start to feel charged and aroused. I spend an hour strutting around the house, stopping at every mirror to examine myself. I fee completely transformed.  I notice my movements starting to become more feminine, graceful and measured and I get the idea into my head that I’m some kind of femme fatale. I start to imagine horny men around me, unshaved and seedy, looking admiringly at my shiny skin and my shapely curved body. I find a cigarette and stand outside the back door, smoking a cigarette, leaning against the wall, like a hooker waiting for trade.  Later that night I jerk off three times and sleep like a baby.

The following day,  as I am putting the rubber clothing, carefully washed and dried, back into the briefcase, I notice the corner of an envelope sticking out of a pocket at the side. 

I pull it out. Inside is a calling card.  On one side is a photograph of someone wearing exactly the same latex clothes that are in the briefcase, and underneath it is the name  ‘Mistress Eva’ embossed. On the other side of the card is ‘Club Plastic. Berlin ’ embossed on the other.  I reach for my phone to look it up. It takes a while to locate it and it turns out that Club Plastic is an expensive private fetish club. 

A week later, I am travelling to Berlin, with the briefcase. In the hotel room I stand fully dressed in front of a large mirror, and again I’m stunned and aroused by what I see.  My breasts,so perfectly shaped, squeezed together by the tight dress,  feel so good pressed against my chest.  My phone rings. It’s the taxi waiting outside. 

‘OK.  I’m coming.’  I say in a soft, breathy voice. I look at myself in the mirror and add: 

‘Come on, Eva. We’re gonna have some fun tonight!’ 

I leave the hotel, step into the taxi and hand the driver the card…

At the entrance to the club, two security men in long leather coats are pleasantly delighted to see Mistress Eva back, and they welcome her in. Within moments three pretty young rubber boys appear. They lead her to a table at the rear of a dimly lit cocktail bar, decorated entirely in deep red velvet.  Champagne and snacks are brought over and a few minutes later a hostess, dressed in a short white latex dress and red pvc shoes, steps over. She carries a round silver tray, from which she hands Mistress Eva a second large glass of chamgagne. 

‘Welcome Mistress Eva. The management is delighted to see you back. We heard you were unwell so it’s a huge relief to see you again . It’s been a long time and you have been greatly missed. I have informed the other mistresses of your arrival tonight and they are looking forward to seeing you later.’

The hostess sits beside Mistress Eva and passes her a smart i-pad.  She points out on the screen a list of clients waiting that evening, together with their particular requirements. 

‘I have also informed some of your regular clients. As you can see, several have already made a booking.’

Mistress Eva looks at the screen and studies the list carefully. Someone called Manfred wants to be suffocated with a plastic bag.. Jurgen will be dressed as a schoolgirl and wants to be slippered. Hans likes to shit in his pants…’ Next to each client’s name is the fee Mistress Eva gets when she completes the session. The messier ones pay more. 

‘Take your time, Mistress’ says the hostess. ‘Feel free to pick whatever you like from the menu.  I’m sure they’ll be back tomorrow if you don’t feel like fitting them all in tonight.’ 

A line of very fine cocaine, and a few cocktails later,  Mistress Eva has made her selection for the night, and she is lead to a sex dungeon. It’s clean and well equipped, with medical beds and tables, chains dangling from steel beams, and on several tables, a wide range of S&M equipment,  A large opulent white sheepskin covered chaise longue sits in the centre and on a table beside it, a bottle of Mistress Eva’s favourite wine, opened, a glass beside it, waiting to be filled. Mistress Eva’s heart is already beating fast…

At 2pm the following day I am woken by a knocking on the door. 

‘Room service.’ 

I manage to find enough German in my muddled brain to ask her politely to leave my room unserviced. My body aches. A thin ray of sunshine pokes through the blinds. I switch on a light and see the latex dress, mask, wig, shoes strewn about and crumpled on the floor, and the events of the night before start to seep back into my memory. 

What a night.  First the guy who wanted his ass whipped. That was incredible. I’d never used a horsewhip before but I quickly managed to get the movement right, so the end of the whip would thwack down sweet on the poor guy’s buttocks. It felt like with each lash, I was punishing everyone in my life who had made me angry.  Next was the guy who wanted me to humiliate him and make him piss in his pants. I remember coming out with the most cruellest things, and the guy loved it so much. Stuff just came out of my mouth, things I would normally never have the courage to say to anyone. And it didn’t take me long to find just how much fun it was to play the cruel dominant bitch and to give out punishment.  It was like a release.  All that power went to my head a bit I think.  Every one of the guys that night loved to grovel and worship me, and the more they suffered, the happier they were and the stiffer their cocks. The other thing that surprised me was that the sight of these guys getting so horny really turned me on.  

Several of my clients were just happy to dress up in their strange fetish costumes and kneel at my feet for an hour licking my boots, while I drank champagne and watched the porn on the video screens. There were a couple of Austrians who came in dressed as schoolboys and wanted me to pull down their short leather shorts and spank them over my knee. The first one felt a bit strange at first. But the second guy got the spanking of his life. One guy wanted to be strapped to the trolley and have me shove long rubber dildos up into his arse. Now that would have normally been a bit weird for me, but Mistress seemed to know exactly what to do. I would never have thought of using lubrication. 

It was my last client of the night that proved to be the most enjoyable. I didn’t think at first that it would be. I put this client off till the last minute, because it was a guy who wanted to be suffocated with a plastic bag, and I thought at first that this might be a bit dangerous.  But by the time it was this guy’s turn, Mistress Eva was in full steam, as horny as fuck, and up for pretty much anything, so I just let her let rip. 

The guy was overweight and the moment he stepped into the dungeon, Mistress was already calling him an ugly fat bastard.  I guess I must have a secret prejuduce against fat people, and the mistress was the one finally to express it out loud. The guy flushed and Mistress told him to put the money in his mouth and crawl over to her on his hands and knees to her.  She made him strip, laughed at his erect but weedy cock and made him lick the tips of her boots, and all the time she was telling him he was just a piece of garbage and she had some nice shiny clear plastic garbage sacks ready, so when she got bored with the humiliation, she could wrap him up tight, till he suffocated and then throw him away in the garbage with all the other trash. After that the guy could hardly contain himself. 

I couldn’t work out where all this was coming from. This outrageous monolgue was just coming out of my mouth without thinking.  Then I cuffed him to a chair and bagged him up. He was kicking and writhing about trying to get free as the bag expanded and contracted around his head, and then suddenly his cock started shooting out masses of spunk, spraying it out abundantly all round the room.  That was the moment I stood in front of him, with my legs apart, the latex dress pulled up, and started jerking off myself. 

We both had a nice giggle about it afterwards, and he was determined to see me next time I came to Berlin…

I get out of bed, shower and dress, find my way to the hotel terrace bar.  As I wait for my coffee I’m aware that my wallet, packed with money from last night’s clients, is making a bulge in my jacket, so I find somewhere more discrete to put it.  I’m happy to just sit there and gaze at the people busy around me. It’s great to be in Berlin.  I think about my old neighbour Cyril. Now it all makes sense. This is how he managed till he was too old, and then he handed the briefcase over to someone he thought would take over. I smile to myself at the thought of me reaching the same age as Cyril…..and handing the briefcase over to the next Mistress Eva. I sip my coffee, light a cigarette, and decide that’s not going to be happening for a while...

Daniel Guy