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MidReal Story
Enslaved Hearts
Scenario:Un hombre castaño de veinte años, espera a entrar en la oficina del jefe. Éste último corta un puro con la guillotina y se sienta. Es un hombre moreno de cuarenta años.
-Juan, has hecho un excelente trabajo con >>las finanzas.
<<Pues menuda la que nos va a caer como >>venga "Hacienda" >>. —Gracias señor.
-Esta noche te daré un regalo por los >>esfuerzos realizados.
El oficinista arquea una ceja y se despide.
Cuando llega a casa, enciende la luz y se encuentra una chica adolescente rubia de doce años vestida como una gatita.
-Te he esperado toda la noche, amo. —Dice acariciándole la nalga derecha.
Seguidamente, Juan se baja los pantalones y le penetra la boca paulatinamente.
<<Hay que limpiar esta casa>, —medita.
Tras ésto, sale de la cavidad y se tumba.
-Hazme una "vaquera invertida".
-Sí, amo
La sumisa lo guía hacia el interior de espaldas y comienza a embestirla mientras Juan le pasa las manos por el trasero.
-Sigue metiéndome la polla por el culo. —Dice la esclava.
Finalmente, Juan sale de ella y le cubre la cara con la semilla.
A la mañana siguiente, ambos desayunan en la mesa.
-¿Cómo te llamas?
-Krystal, amo
-¿De dónde eres?
-No lo sé, me criaron en una mazmorra, >>amo.
-¿Sabes algo de tus padres?
-No, amo, sólo he conocido a mi >>entrenador.
-¿Qué vas hacer ahora?
-Soy tuya, amo, así que ya dirás.
-Puedes vivir conmigo, veré si puedo hacer >>un arreglo con Júlvez.
Create my version of this story
Juan Martinez
young office worker, relationships with Krystal and his boss, average build with dark hair, ambitious and secretive.
Krystal
mysterious teenage girl, relationship with Juan, blonde hair and youthful appearance, submissive and enigmatic.
Mr. Júlvez
Juan's boss and possibly Krystal's handler, relationship with Juan and Krystal indirectly through them.
Hello, my name is Juan.
I'm 24 years old and I want to tell you a story.
It's a little strange, but it happened to me, so I know it's true.
I live in Mexico City, the biggest metropolis in the world.
It's a crazy place, but it's my home.
I have a pretty normal life.
I work from 9:00 am to 5:00 pm at an office in the center of the city.
I'm a nobody in this huge urban jungle.
Just another face in the crowd trying to make a living.
My job is boring, but I have big aspirations.
One day I want to be rich and powerful.
Right now though, I'm just a small cog in a machine.
My life is pretty ordinary until something strange happens on my birthday, February 27th.
It's a Friday and I'm looking forward to the weekend.
The clock strikes 5:00 pm, and I pack up my things, eager to leave the office.
"Happy birthday, Juan!" my coworker Maria calls out as I pass by her desk.
"Thanks, Maria," I reply with a smile.
I step into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor.
As the doors close, I feel a slight tug on my jacket pocket.
I turn around, but the elevator is empty.
Shrugging it off, I exit the building and head towards the subway station.
The streets are bustling with people heading home for the weekend.
I weave through the crowd, my mind already on the plans for tonight's celebration with friends.
Reaching into my pocket to check my phone, I feel something unfamiliar.
A small envelope.
I pull it out and examine it.
It's plain white with no markings or address.
Curiosity piqued, I tear it open and unfold the single sheet of paper inside.
"Meet me at El Zócalo at midnight. Come alone."
No signature. No explanation.
My heart races as I read it again.
Who could have left this?
And why?
I glance around, but no one seems to be paying any attention to me.
Shoving the note back into my pocket, I continue walking towards the subway station, thoughts swirling in my head.
By the time I reach my apartment, I'm more confused than ever.
I toss my bag on the couch and sit down to think.
Should I go?
It could be dangerous.
But then again, it could also be an opportunity for something exciting.
After all, nothing interesting ever happens in my life.
I decide to go.
A quick shower and a change of clothes later, I'm ready.
I grab a jacket and head out into the night.
The city is alive with lights and sounds as I make my way to El Zócalo.
When I arrive, it's almost midnight.
The square is nearly empty except for a few late-night wanderers.
I stand near the center, looking around nervously.
Minutes pass and nothing happens.
Just as I'm about to give up and leave, a shadowy figure steps out from behind a column.
The figure moves closer, and I can make out a hooded cloak obscuring their face.
"Juan Martinez?" the figure asks in a low, gravelly voice.
"Yes, that's me," I respond, trying to keep my voice steady.
The figure nods and reaches into their cloak, pulling out a small, ancient-looking key.
"This unlocks your destiny," they whisper, pressing the key into my hand.
I stare at the key, its intricate design catching the faint glow of the streetlights.
"What do you mean?" I ask, but the figure is already backing away.
"Wait!" I call out, but they disappear into the shadows as quickly as they appeared.
I look around, bewildered.
The key feels heavy in my palm, its cold metal sending a shiver up my spine.
I slip it into my pocket and decide to head home.
As I walk back through the empty streets, my mind races with questions.
What door does this key open?
What destiny are they talking about?
Back at my apartment, I sit down at the kitchen table and examine the key more closely.
It's old, with ornate carvings that look like ancient symbols.
I have no idea what any of it means.
Frustrated and exhausted, I decide to sleep on it.
The next morning, I'm still thinking about the key as I get ready for work.
I tuck it into my pocket before heading out the door.
At the office, it's business as usual.
Maria greets me with a cheerful "Good morning!"
"Morning," I reply absentmindedly.
Throughout the day, I can't focus on my tasks.
My mind keeps drifting back to the mysterious key and the figure's cryptic words.
During lunch break, I pull out my phone and start searching for anything that might give me a clue about the key's origin or purpose.
Hours pass with no useful results.
By the time I leave work, I'm more frustrated than ever.
As I step outside, an idea hits me: maybe someone at one of the city's antique shops could help identify it.
I head to a small shop I've passed by many times but never entered.
The sign above reads "Antiquities & Curiosities."
Inside, it's dimly lit and filled with shelves of old books, trinkets, and artifacts.
An elderly man behind the counter looks up as I enter.
"Good evening," he says with a warm smile. "How can I help you?"
"I was hoping you could tell me something about this," I say, pulling out the key and placing it on the counter.
He picks it up and examines it closely with a magnifying glass.
"Hmm... interesting," he murmurs. "Where did you find this?"
"It was given to me last night," I explain. "Someone said it unlocks my destiny."
The man raises an eyebrow. "Unlocks your destiny? That's quite a claim."
He turns the key over in his hands. "This is very old. Possibly from the 16th century. The symbols are Aztec."
My heart skips a beat. "Aztec? What does it mean?"
He shakes his head. "I'm not sure. But there's someone who might know more."
He scribbles an address on a piece of paper and hands it to me. "Go see Dr. Ramirez at the National Museum of Anthropology. He's an expert in Aztec artifacts."
"Thank you," I say, taking the paper. "I'll go right away."
As I leave the shop and head towards the museum, excitement and anxiety churn in my stomach.
When I arrive at the museum, it's nearly closing time.
I rush inside and find Dr. Ramirez's office.
Knocking on the door, I hear a voice from within. "Come in."