A Smuthunter Story
“The answer is yes.”
Mitch blinked as he stared into deep green eyes that were sparkling with life, “Yes you can carry my groceries out to my car.”
She was smiling as she held her two bags out towards him, “You’ve got a good eye, recognizing me out in the civilian world. No makeup, big sunglass, boring ponytail, and boring soccer mom starter clothes, you must be a great fan.”
Mitch blushed, Cassandra Angel shopped at the same grocery store he did.
Pro domme, internet fetish personality, and all around gorgeous Cassandra Angel was basically his neighbor.
“I’m sorry if I was staring or being weird, I didn’t really know it was you.” Mitch felt pretty good about that answer. He wasn’t weird, or awkward with women, or one to get star struck, but wow, the charisma she exuded through the screen was nothing compared to her in person.
“What’s your name?” She asked as they walked through the automatic doors at the front of the store.
“I’m uh, Mitch Cl…”
“Oh, you’re Mitchell Clarke right? “
He flushed, and she laughed a little bit.
“I just moved to town a few months ago, and I sort of looked at my client list to see if any of my regulars lived around me. It’s a professional and a personal precaution. I’m sure you can understand.”
Her car wasn’t anything fancy, a medium sized four door, maybe last year’s model, maybe a little older.
‘That’s got to be rough.” She popped her trunk and there wasn’t much in there, just typical trunk stuff. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to memorize your plates and stalk you?”
He was hoping the joke would land.
“Well, I was going to invite you over to see my studio setup, but if you’re planning on wearing my skin like a coat, maybe I shouldn’t.”
He stopped for a second as she smiled at him, her sunglasses were back down.
“Really?” He was, well his imagination was, very excited.
“Yeah. You’ve never sent me any stalker-y emails or followed my social media with multiple accounts, or tried to find me in real life, should I not trust you?”
“I mean, I, you know, no, I’m cool. I mean, this is so cool.” They got in the car and started to drive. He’d only walked down to the store for a snack so it wasn’t like he was leaving his vehicle unattended…
…while he rode off with a stranger he had masturbated to more times than eh could count.
“My name’s Serena, my real name I mean.” Her hair was long and dyed a dark coppery red, but when it was up it looked more natural. She was wearing a very light jacket that was sky blue, it looked like something people wore for a late springtime hike, and she had black calf length tights, or maybe yoga pants, he didn’t know. She looked to be about his age, maybe a little older, late 20s or early 30s, but it was hard to tell in part because she was in really good shape.
“It’s really cool to meet you Serena, you’re really good at what you do.” He was smiling, and so was she, the car stopped after a little less than a mile outside of plain white story house with a small front yard and a blooming holly tree on the sidewalk.
“Thanks. Also, I’m only doing this so you can take my bags inside.” She turned her smile to a smirk and he laughed a little.
They went inside, him with the two bags of groceries, her opening the front door. It wasn’t a big or a small house, but it felt spacious and it felt normal. The kitchen was new, the floors were hardwood, and everything felt neat.
“So, what are you favorites?” She still had her sunglasses on, and even thought he had seen enough of her body in various stages of near complete undress, she never went nude, even though she was wearing tights, he couldn’t help but appreciate how much her wardrobe hid her figure. Because, if you had asked him before, he would have said that was impossible.
“My favorite?” He was leaning on a counter, trying not to stare more than he already had.
“Videos. What you’re favorite stuff that I do? I feel like I should know this since I already pre-stalked you, but the purchase histories tend to blur together.”
And in that moment, Mitch started to feel a little awkward.
She stopped and smiled at him, “You know you’re in the house of the woman you probably habitually jerk off to, and you know I’ve made and sold all that material you spanked to that you bought from me, there’s no reason to be shy.”
It was hard to argue with that logic.
Also, she was fun, she was the kind of fun he imagined her to be, maybe even more fun. You could tell her screen presence and her tweets and everything that she was fun, but just like everything else, she seemed to be better in person.
“And if anyone should be embraced it should be me. I look like I just fell out of bed.” She started putting things away again, or at least had gotten around to the last couple of items.
“No, you’re, you look great.” It seemed like the right answer. It was at least the thing he would have said to a girlfriend.
He was young and in good shape, worked a good job, and wasn’t really unlucky in love, and for a moment he wondered if that was what made actually answering what she was asking that much weirder or harder.
Mitch was a fetishist, but he didn’t talk about it, and it was a pretty low impact part of his sex life and his identity. It wasn’t something he identified as.
“So, what are your favorites?” She was leaning on an opposite counter and he was imaging the curves under her zipped up jacket.
“I, “ he paused and blushed and she smiled when he did, “I like your trances a lot. They’re really… different.”
“You know, “ she started walking out of the kitchen towards the basement stairs, “that’s what a lot of people say. Some guys find me just because I practice a little bit of hypnosis, but the people that buy those videos because they like my other stuff, that’s the way they describe it. Calming and different. Are you a hypno-fetishist?”
Before he could answer, she turned on the lights for the stairs, and they were nice. It wasn’t like a dark and creepy basement, it was as well kept and neat as the upstairs. “My dungeon is in the basement, you know, because where else would it be?”
He laughed, “I don’t know, I don’t think I am. I haven’t really explored anyone else’s videos, the other girls that do these sorts of videos aren’t as good as you.”
She was half way down when she stopped and looked back at him. He was still in the doorway. “I appreciate that, I just try not to think like that because it’s not fair to them and it makes me kind of a bitch if I do. This scene is too hard without the women being shitty to each other. But, thank you, I pride myself on doing everything I can to be believable and effective.”
He followed her down the stairs, then into the main basement room. It didn’t have a closet so it didn’t count as a bedroom technically. And there, inside this room, he saw a lot of familiar sights.
She had table that looked like a repurposed massage table dipped in black leather, a wardrobe that had been in the background of a lot of videos, various backdrops for lighting, and the lights themselves, a tripod and a corner table with plenty of other odds and ends for filming, as well as a plain wooden arm chair and a wooden four legged stool he’d seen countless times as well.
“So, this is where the magic happens. I tried to recreate everything as best I could from my old place, and the room across the hall is a guest bedroom and the set for my more intimate shoots, when I want things less strict and more warm. You’ve seen those, the soft lighting ones where I’m on a bed.”
She’d taken her sunglasses off and put them on the corner table then walked back over to him, and to his surprise took him by the hand to lead him into the studio.
‘The wardrobe has a bunch of stuff you probably don’t care about, strap-on’s and toys and everything, and there’s the squeak beast,” she gave the leather table thing a pat, “I stopped using it for solo videos because every time I moved you’d just hear more leather than me. I used to lower it down and change the shooting angle to make it look like a bench but now I don’t bother. I used to have a shooting couch too but I didn’t feel like moving it with me.”
It was surreal being in the room, it was he realized, like being on a movie set because that was what it was.
“So I’m guessing you started with some of my other videos then made your way to my Trances series right?”
She was standing in front of him, smiling at his smile.
“What was the first video you got? Tits? Ass? Blackmail fantasy?”
Now he felt more awkward than before because the woman had always been a sex symbol, something he objectified in the best possible way, and now he was about to tell the person in front of him what he objectified about her the most.
“It was a tit worship video.” He didn’t make eye contact when he said it.
“Well, they are pretty great. I always think they’re so popular because I know how to wear a bra, or bras, and because I don’t show nipple. I think once you see a naked tit it loses some of its magic.”
She laughed again, it was melodic and good natured.
“I believe, as a dominant woman, what men come to me for is to be titillated and dominated, and that means playing by my rules, engaging in what they believe I think is sexy, and what I actually do think is sexy. Plenty of girls go nude, and they’re awesome, but beside the fact I don’t want to do it, it’s not my brand.”
She smiled again and had established firm eye contact with him.
Read the rest for: