I'm not exactly the manliest man on the block. I spend far too much time engulfed in fantasy novels, video games, and all around what one might dub, 'nerdly pursuits'. I was never one for things like sports, cars, or the other trappings of accepted male society. But I did entertain the idea that my inner mentality was in fact, common of my species. Did I not wish to find a potential mate and conquer her heart and body? Was my purpose not to dominate her will and bring her satisfaction through my very physical ability? Weren't these the things women expected of a mate? I thought so, at least.

So it was some surprise to me that as it stood I was on my knees at the end of very thick leash, attached to a very thick collar. I felt something like a dog, and as I was brought to lay before the lady, I realized there may be some truth in that. No, this certainly was not how I envisioned myself as a man. But then... why was I enjoying this so? A caress against my hair brought me a relaxed sensation that I knew would be the beginning of my servitude tonight. And as the scent of the Mistress's nectar drew closer, I reflected on how this all began.

It had been very abrupt in fact.

Work. I dreaded it. But less so on my way OUT. Who actually liked work after all? Well, maybe porn stars, but even THEY had to tire of it every now and again. I'd venture to guess most of them didn't even have nerves left with which TO feel. A touch of bitterness in me maybe? Eh, there was no maybe. I was sick of working day in day out. And for what? A crummy apartment, a broke down car, and a life that extended only as far as whatever book I was reading at the moment. Yeah, I was very bitter, and getting worse everyday. These were common thoughts for me however. I was prone to long periods of self loathing and situational angst. The sort of thing someone in his early twenties should have left behind in the puberty leaden days of the teens. But it seemed I hadn't grown up, and very likely wasn't going to.

My path through the mall took me from the bookstore I worked at to the back hallways where only employees were granted the privilege of viewing. Not that it was a glorious sight or anything. Cold white with a few stray pipes running here to there. Doors with tiny labels designating the stores they backwardly lead into. At this time of day, I was unlikely to run into anyone. By day I meant night. Midnight to be precise. I had worked late again, toying endlessly over the sci fi section in the store I worked at. By series or by author? I couldn't stand the argument in myself that never seemed to resolve. One day I would find the perfect arrangement and be troubled no further. But this wasn't that night. And so, I was the last guy left in the mall, even outlasting the security guys. They probably didn't even know (or care) that I was still hanging around. Sure it USED to bother them, but when I was given my own key to the employee exit they seemed to cease caring. They didn't have to wait up for me anymore.

So on my way out, I certainly wasn't expecting to encounter another human being. Most certainly not expecting to be grabbed around the open collar of my overshirt and slammed against the wall. Amazing how in one moment of shock you can go from being lost in your own world to, well, lost in someone else's. My back hit the wall with some force and I felt an odd taste in my mouth from the impact. My fist came up instinctively to strike at what I presumed was my attacker. That fist of mine was stopped clean, caught neatly in the soft, gloved hand of my attacker.

It was a woman! And a nice looking one at that. Well, what I could SEE of her. She was wearing all black. Shiney black. A catsuit over which was a long, equally shiney trenchcoat. Her face was concealed by a sort of mask that covered her face entirely, save for her eyes. And what eyes they were. Warm and glistening, light amber cast in the shadows of dancing candlelight. They were mysterious, yet captivating. I could not look away. There was a smile on her face. Though I could not see her lips through the black latex (I assumed it to be so) covering her, I was sure of it.

I went to move again, but was promptly pressed up against the wall, her chest (a very shall we say, FULL chest) squished against my own, and I felt warmth touch my cheeks. My body was betraying me. I could feel the rise below. The warmth that I usually felt come over me when watching some naughty show late at night in my solitary room. Was this the right time to be feeling this way? This woman more likely wanted my money or perhaps even my life, not my gender. I had to act.

But that wasn't an option with her next move. A gloved, smooth hand slipped down to the aforementioned region of myself and took a gentle, but firm grip. In such an improper position, all I could do was freeze. Between her body and her not so unwelcomed grasp on myself, I couldn't stop myself from becoming aroused. I felt it harden in her grip, bringing a deeper colour of red to my face. This apparently brought her satisfaction, I noticed, since the smile on her face was deepening beneath that strange mask. The world was becoming a blur to me from the fear and adrenaline coursing through me. And it only deepened when I saw her free hand press my fist aside (she'd still been holding it all this time) and produce something that looked vaguely like a cigarette lighter you'd find in older model cars. Like a small metal cylinder. The end of this item was glowing a white orangish colour that could only mean one thing. It WAS a lighter.

There was little doubt what she was planning to do, and as I began to struggle in heightened fear, her hand on my manhood squeezed painfully tight. One way or another, I was going to experience pain. Then, quite unexpectedly, she spoke. It was a deep voice, as rich as her amber eyes.

"I am going to let go. You will then drop your pants and turn around."

There was silence. I stared in disbelief at this command, and she stared back without any sign of mirth or mixed meaning.

"If I don't?" I ventured reluctantly, wondering why now of all times I couldn't shut the hell up.

"You will." she returned flatly.

Maybe it was the tone of her voice. Maybe it was the scent coming off her filling my brain with the tingles that translated to physical desire. Maybe I just liked the whole situation, but she was correct. Logic be damned, there was very much a part of me that was overpowering and wanted nothing more than to obey this crazed, latex clad woman. And so I did. She released me as promised, and I found my way to unfastening my blue jeans and dropping my red boxers for her.

She grasped my rear roughly as I did so and whirled me around so that I had to place my hands upon the wall to prevent toppling fowards. And so there I was, in the hallways inside an otherwise empty mall, with my pants down, my ass jutting out, and a lady from a fetish movie holding me captive. My excitement was too much, and my gender jutted foward to indicate how true this was. Humiliating.

But shame has little place in the threshold of blinding pain. And as I felt the first licks of searing heat against my exposed rear cheek, my embarrassment was the last thing on my mind. I screamed out in pain as the lighter she'd brandished was shoved mercilessly onto my right ass cheek. Over my howl I heard her chuckle. The bitch! Was she seriously ENJOYING my pain?

The sting remained even after she removed the burning metal from my tender flesh. It weakened me, concentrating on it as I was and I felt my legs begin to waver. The woman wasn't having that however, and promptly slapped me right on the fresh wound. I yelped in a voice that was more like a beaten dog than myself and straightened back up on instinct, finding a new strength in my legs.

"Superb." came her voice once again. "You will wear the brand without any unsightly scarring."

"Scarring?" My god, had that been the purpose of what I'd just endured?

"That's right. As of this night, you are mine, and as such, require proper marking to designate your allegiance."

It was stunning how nonchalant she spoke all of this. "You're crazy." I stammered.

"And you're a bitch." she returned with a hint of amusement. "My bitch, to be more precise."

I took a bold stance and turned suddenly, my pants tripping me up mid turn, and soon wound up against the wall, supported by my back. She wasted no time in taking my face in her gloved hand, cupping my chin as if I were something delicate. Those amber eyes found me again, and as they met my own, I found myself paralyzed. My body simply refused to move. I was being examined once more, sized up like some cattle. Which, to this lady, was all I seemed to be. She -did- just brand me after all. My mind started to drift to what it was she might have branded me with. That is to say, what kind of marking I would now bear for the rest of my life back there on my butt. There was little doubt I'd be left in that dark on -that- however. Whoever this latex lady was, she seemed to get a charge out of revealing psychological weaknesses.

"Yes. You are indeed perfect." she said.

"What do you mean?" I ventured.

She withdrew her hand and pulled me up to a standing pose, my pants still around my ankles.

"The glimmer in your eyes. You were born to serve." she answered.

"Sorry, I already do that. It's called a job." Boy, wasn't that clever of me?

"Cute. I like a slave to have a personality. Much more fun to break."

"Look lady, I-"

"Mistress Butterfly, to you slave."

"... Alright fine. I take objection to this whole 'slave' thing. I don't serve anyone."

Her hand came up again and the smooth sense of latex touching my face greeted my feelings.

"But you want to." She said steadily. And in that, I realized there was truth.

"... that's not true." I protested half assured.

"Oh but it is." She reassured. "Very true in fact. I've been watching you for the last year. I know your routines, your life. I've seen you sit at home, miserable and lonely. I was there when you sat on the steps of your home and cried. You were lonely then. You're lonely now."

I was stunned. This lady has been stalking me for a damn year. How did I not notice? Furthermore, I live in the middle of nowhere, how the hell did she find me? And topping it all off was that she shared some of my most vulnerable emotional times without my even being aware! I wouldn't cry in front of anyone, let alone some beautiful stranger. Even if said stranger -was- stalking me. Especially not in that case, come to think of it. I couldn't find words to rebuke her now. What could I possibly say?

"You're right." I said, wondering why the hell I said that as I did. I guess I had a resigned tone to my voice, because I was pretty sure that's how I felt.

Her voice returned, and somehow, it was comforting this time. "I know I am."

There was a pause of silence. No sound, no breath. Then the squeak of her latex outfit as she enfolded me in her sleek arms. She was warm. Very warm, and I was overtaken with a powerful awareness of peace. My arms moved on their own and I reached out to cling to her. I found my head resting against her chest, feeling her heart beat through her catsuit. I liked the feel of it. The flawless black liquid masking her warm body beneath. Here in this lady's arms, I somehow felt more serene, more safe, than anywhere I had ever been.

"You will come with me, slave." She spoke again.

"Yes..." I muttered through a haze of content.

"Pull up your pants now, slave."

I obeyed, feeling no shame somehow. In fact, I was feeling very little of anything. Had I been drugged? Yes, it seemed likely. There was, in fact, a particular scent coming from this lady. But no... it was not a drug. It was her. The power of her tone and stance. The strange smell of the latex that conformed about her body. The way she commanded me, with both firmness and... care? I guess that word would have to suffice, because there wasn't another that'd do on hand. Especially not with my brain walking right out of my head as it were. Was I seriously about to just drop what I was doing and go off to god knows where with some rubberized mystery lady? Who, I should add, had just branded me and revealed herself to be my stalker?

"Come along slave. Your Mistress is waiting."

I guess I was.

Her vehicle was pretty much what I had envisioned on the short trek through the parking lot. She'd parked around the back, deeper in the shadows between the mall and the outlet store next door. It was all black, and well polished. Maybe a Lexus, I wasn't sure. Autos were certainly not my specialty. It was strange to me that she held the door open and allowed me to take a leather cushioned seat before joining me. I suppose it was to put me in the mind of being her guest in this circumstance. Whatever the case, it was a pleasant extension of courtesy. There was a sharp pain on my wound as I settled into the seat and I winced.

The lady joined me soon, settling behind the wheel and taking note of my anguish.

"Don't worry." she said. "It will heal soon and leave only a clean mark."

I was curious again. "What is the mark?"

"Mine." she returned.

Not quite the answer I was looking for. I tried to find words that would not offend her. "I mean... that is..." I hated how I always stammered in tense situations.

"It's a butterfly." she said with a hint of amusement. Her eyes had me in them again, and I think she was smiling beneath that thin mask over her lips.

I tried to consider what it meant to have a butterfly permanently adorning my rear. Somehow I just couldn't wrap my mind around it. The pain was there, but I couldn't actually see the brand, so it would remain a phantom to my mind.

She started the car as I muddled around in my thoughts and we stole into the night. There was only mild traffic at this hour, and as we moved off the main highway and towards the outskirts of town, the stars became visible. I stared up at them quietly, still wondering silently if I had lost my mind. Fortunately, she broke the stillness of the quiet with practiced ease.

"Ah, there are certain conventions I am accustomed to while transferring a passenger. Would you indulge me?" she asked quizzically.

What did she mean? "Um... sure?" Was I going to regret that?

"Why thank you." she affirmed, and pressed a button above the digital clock.

In short order I was promptly secured by thick, broad straps that literally shot out of the seats. They enwrapped my body and cradled me tightly against the seat, immobilizing me. There was a brief shock, and I struggled briefly, testing their limits (and learning that they gave no quarter) then resigned myself. It was odd, this captivity gave me a nice sensation. Realizing this, I blushed slightly.

"How cute." the lady said then. "I've always liked it when you blushed. It's very effeminate."

Her remark only deepened my embarrassment. I felt warmth course through my face as I tried to repress it.

"I'm glad though." she went on cheerily. "You're genuinely enjoying your helplessness. It's just as I deduced. You're unaware of your own desires. Naturally, you're not cognizant of what I'm telling you here, so the only way to make it apparent is to demonstrate."

"Is that why you're taking me to... wherever it is we're going?" I put forth.

"Indeed it is my slave." she said without glancing over at me.

"... where... are we going?" I quietly asked.

"My home." she answered.

I wasn't sure I was expecting so normal a response. From the way things had been going so far, I'd almost expected her to tell me we were on course to a mine, or maybe a spaceship. Nonetheless, I was now very curious as to where such a woman might dwell. As I pondered this, I noticed how the landscape about me had become primarily dark forests. I guess I should have been experiencing a sense of foreboding... but I didn't. Only more tingling satisfaction.

My thoughts were broken again at the touch of that wonderful latex against my lips. I regarded the source and found the lady's gloved index finger pressing against. I looked at her somewhat confused, but knowing already what she desired.

"You know what to do, slave." she affirmed.

Right away I took the glossy digit in between my lips, sucking gently. I took the length of her finger, sucking to the fullest extent before she removed it, replacing it with her middle finger. Hungrily I licked and sucked upon the thin, eloquent finger, enjoying the odd taste of the latex that she bore. Time slowed for me as I did this. My body burned and the satisfaction I felt redoubled. I wanted to lick and taste the latex, I wanted to be fed her shimmering, perfect form in whatever way I could attain it. And so when she pulled her fingers away, my lips followed fervently. I was caught in my restraints well and could not reach her to continue licking however, though it suddenly seemed to be all I desired.

"Easy my dear slave." she soothed. "You will have more, I promise. You really are everything I expected. More perhaps, given the hunger I see in you."

I was breathing a little heavily. There was something about all of this. The captivity, the straps, the latex, the helplessness of my position. I'd read about people who languished in these sort of interests. Fetishists. But I'd never considered that I might have some interest in it myself. Certainly I'd spent a good deal of time staring at girls adorned by shiny clothing, but... I'd never actually considered that it was the outfits that made them so alluring to me. I thought back to all the times on the internet I'd spent just admiring the light reflections on the suits of catsuit wearing maidens. As I was now, it was beginning to seem perfectly clear to me.

I -was- a fetishist. Just unaware for all this time.

"I can subside your hunger for the moment, slave." the lady volunteered. "You would like that, wouldn't you?"

I nodded deeply, words somehow not finding my throat.

"Speak, slave." she commanded with a sharp tone of authority.

"Yes..." I offered.

"Yes, -what-?" she retorted, expecting me to fill in the blank.

"Yes... ma'am?" I tried.

"Excellent, slave." she voiced her approval. "You learn quickly."

The car slowed and soon pulled over onto the side of the road. There were only forests all about us. Had I been in a good state of mind, I might have worried about being found out here alone with this lady, bound and helpless alongside someone who resembled a comic book villainess. But even if I were in such a state, my fears would have been unfounded. There was no one around for miles.

Again I felt something pressed against my lips. I opened my mouth to receive and felt a round, large shape fill it promptly. The lady's hands worked around my face, securing what I could feel to be a buckle around the back of my head. It was a ballgag. An effective one at that I learned as I tried to speak once she pulled away. The garbled nonsense that came out with abit of drool was evidence that I was very much speech restricted.

I could only guess at how I must look, my mouth spread wide, creases on my brow from a mixed array of awkwardness and enjoyment. In truth, I was delighted to be further removed from control. All that was possible for me now was to sit and be herded towards whatever destination I was bound for. The lady was staring at me with eyes that seems to shimmer with the same approval an artist might regard a completed work with. A smile touched her and her gloved hand ran through my hair pleasantly.

"You look wonderful, my dear." she said softly. "Now, we've not much further, so let's continue."

And so we began moving again, continuing down a dark, unrecognized road.

Where would it lead, I wondered behind my gag.