This tale centers on Nousha -- a 5'4" curvy Persian mother working in an office -- known around the workplace for her bubbly, friendly nature and innocent charm. Even though she comes off as confident and a bit bossy, deep down she's riddled with insecurity and craves attention from men. She idolizes rich men and, in her private fantasies, dreams of being a total whore -- especially enjoying the attention from black men. Though she remained a virgin until marriage and has only ever been with her husband, her long-suppressed desires are suddenly awakening, and she secretly yearns to be dominated and even gangbanged. Desperate for money and eager to explore these hidden fantasies, she finds herself longing to don more revealing, slutty outfits like latex dresses, stilettos, and stockings -- all while keeping these cravings hidden from her family.
The room is dimly lit, with long shadows stretching over a dominating black leather couch that fills the space. The air feels thick with anticipation; Nousha stands in the doorway, heart pounding and palms slick with nervous sweat. Her tight, shiny latex dress clings to her curvy hips and plump breasts, leaving barely anything to the imagination. She had spent hours debating over what to wear for this moment -- not really sure whether to go all bold or stick with her usual demure look -- but eventually, she settled on an outfit that forced her to confront her fantasies head-on.
"This is it," she thinks, throat tightening, knowing there's no turning back now.
Suddenly, a deep, commanding voice cuts through her thoughts. "You're Nousha, right?" Pascal asks. His tone is casual but carries an edge of authority that sends shivers down her spine. She nods, biting her lower lip while her eyes flick to him as he approaches. He's everything she expected: tall, rugged, with an air of control that both terrifies and excites her. Behind him, a silent camera operator watches, adding to the charged atmosphere.
"Why don't you come over here?" Pascal says, motioning toward the couch, his gaze locked on hers the entire time.
Slowly, Nousha walks forward in her sky-high stilettos -- each step a reminder of how the latex hugs her body. She can feel herself reacting; there's a wet heat pooling between her legs as her fantasies start to blur with reality. She's always imagined herself in scenarios like this -- dominated, controlled, used purely for pleasure. Now, here she is, standing right before someone who might make all those wild dreams come true.
Pascal's eyes rove over her body, his gaze slicing through her. "You nervous?" he asks.
She hesitates before nodding, voice dropping to a near-whisper. "A little..."
His lips curl into a smirk. "Good. Being nervous is normal." With a more forceful gesture toward the couch, he orders, "Sit."
Nousha complies, her hands trembling as she perches on the edge of the leather couch, the cool material sending a shiver up her spine. The vulnerability of this moment is both terrifying and thrilling. She knows why she's here and what she wants, but the reality of finally submitting, of being watched, judged, and used, makes her pulse quicken.
"Tell me why you're here," Pascal says as he leans against the armrest, watching her with an intensity that makes her shift in her seat. "What do you want, Nousha?"
Her mouth goes dry and she swallows hard, struggling for her voice. "I... I want to feel desired. I want to be used. To give up control. I want to be... dominated."
Her words hang heavily in the air, loaded with meaning. Her heart pounds as she speaks them aloud, a flush of heat rising to her cheeks. It's hard to believe she's admitted this long-hidden, dark secret -- that fantasy of being a submissive slut, craved and controlled by powerful men, now teetering on the edge of becoming real.
Pascal moves closer, crouching in front of her so that his face is mere inches from her knees. His overwhelming presence makes her breathing quicken as his eyes bore into hers.
"You've only ever been with your husband, haven't you?" he teases in a low, playful tone.
"Yes..." she whispers, feeling utterly exposed, as though he can see right through her. She already knows where this is heading, and that thought makes her legs squeeze together as she tries to control the growing heat inside.
With a smirk that shows he's enjoying her reaction, Pascal continues, "And now you want more. You want to be taken. To be a slut for men you barely know. Isn't that right?"
Her body betrays her as she nods slowly, the need gnawing at her. "Yes," she breathes, voice barely audible.
Abruptly, he stands, his commanding presence demanding all her attention. "Stand up. Let me see what you've got."
Her heart skips a beat as she rises, knees trembling. Slowly, she turns so he can take in her full figure -- the latex hugging every curve, the way her plump breasts strain against the material, and that round, juicy ass that seems to hold his gaze a moment too long.
"Take off the dress," Pascal instructs simply.
Her hands shake as they move to the zipper at the back of her dress. This is the moment she's fantasized about for so long, but now that it's here, the weight of it almost overwhelms her. Slowly, she unzips the dress; the sound echoing in the quiet room until the latex slips off her shoulders and pools at her feet. Now, she's left wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties and matching stockings, her nipples hard in the cool air, visible through the thin fabric of her bra.
Pascal steps even closer, reaching out to run a finger along the curve of her waist. His touch is light, but it sends a jolt of electricity through her, making her gasp.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs, his hand trailing lower until it rests on the swell of her hip. "But beauty isn't enough here. You're gonna have to prove you can handle this -- that you can take everything I give you."
His words hang in the air like a challenge. Nousha's body is aflame, her need intensifying with every second. She feels his fingers teasing the waistband of her panties, playing with the elastic, drawing out every bit of anticipation. Her mind spins--part of her wants to run, but the stronger, more desperate part craves total surrender.
"Are you ready?" Pascal's voice rumbles deep, and when she meets his eyes, she sees the hunger there. A hunger to break her, dominate her, and turn her into exactly what she's always dreamed of becoming.
"I'm ready," she whispers, voice trembling with both fear and raw desire.
With that, Pascal steps back and gestures toward the camera operator. "Let's begin the audition."
