She was everything I imagined Miss Gemma would be. I knelt, looking up at her, salivating at the thought of what the next hour of my life entailed.
I had spent the week discussing my innermost desires by e-mail before we had agreed on a “play session.” I arrived at the colourless venue at lunchtime, scared and excited. I paid the agreed fee, was stripped by her assistant and thrown into her dungeon.
She looked divine. The dominant pose of her body, staring away from me and shunning my presence as I looked into her cold lair. The gloved hands, ready to probe my body with malign intentions. The touch of her buttocks, her fingers already prising the buttcheeks apart to receive my kisses on her bud: suddenly that was all I was good for. That’s all I wanted to.
I wanted to savour her deliciousness, reduced from a successful married entrepreneur to a snivelling reptile within a few seconds of being in her dungeon. I needed to breathe her in, I needed to savour her intoxicating scent, debasing myself by tonguing this stranger’s anus. I needed to bury my willing face into her splayed buttocks to kiss, and cajole as much muted satisfaction that an insignificant can give.
She stood waiting, as I tentatively approached her, crawling on my knees to her jet black shoes. They shouted dominance: the height of her frame towering over my worthless body. The sharp, point of her heels made me whimper: she had promised by e-mail to dig them into my skin if I misbehaved. I wanted to misbehave so much to unleash her punishments, but I could not disappoint the dominant beauty.
To submit to a gorgeous woman had been a fantasy of mine for years, but I had never been able to act upon it until now; she was wonderfully helpful as we set up our play and I would do anything to not fail her. This was what I needed in my life. I needed to submit. I need to fly, and feel free.
So as I looked up her taut muscles and latex-clad legs, my cock pulsed; I had been hard all morning, too nervous to be erect for the last ten minutes but now, it was happening; I was alive with my submission as my lips touched her parted buttocks and buried themselves against her cheeks.
“Get right in there, worm!” She barked.
I recognised that voice.
“Sorry,” I muttered, causing her to turn around.
“Harry!” Her eyes flashed, as I stared at my wife in a wig. “What … you toad!”
“You told me you worked at a florist.”
“You told me that you had back-to-back meetings today,” Debbie snapped and crossed her arms. “Funny how you never wanted to play this at home!”
“I’d have done anything for this … you never want sex,” I panted, causing her to scoff loudly.
“I never want your sex.”
“You mean, you would … dominate?”
“Love, I would paddle your arse until it bled if you’d let me,” she offered, her lips curling into a smile. “And I will do tonight,” she promised. “You went to see a dominatrix. Without marital permission,” she added. “You’re in so much trouble when I get you home! If you think Miss Gemma’s harsh, wait until you see Miss Debbie!”
I couldn’t wait, salivating at the thought of what the rest of my life entailed.
Image used under a CC-license from here.