As I lather myself up in the shower, I start getting flashbacks of last night and my heart starts racing as I remember the things I let her do to me. You see, I’ve been married for 15 years. We have a pretty good life. We’re both professionals, we have nice cars, two kids and live in our own house in a pretty London suburb. My wife is remarkably beautiful and very clever, indeed. We have sex regularly, but, I hate to say it…that’s where I have a little problem.
I’ve always had submissive fantasies, ever since I can remember. I watched a TV show once, when I was just barely a teenager that showed an old fashioned boarding school headmistress giving one of the students a paddling and I remember feeling the heat rise in my loins so unexpectedly that I blushed at myself and looked around guiltily to make sure no one had noticed.
As I got older I discovered erotic stories about dominance and submission and then discovered porn. Don’t get me wrong. My wife is good in bed, but she’s a straight forward missionary position sort of woman. I told her about my submissive fantasies once and she seemed so disgusted with me that I never brought up the subject again. Then again, there was even something in that humiliation that stimulated me. I was like a starving man accepting anything edible to satisfy my needs.
I finally said ‘fuck it’ to myself one day, about a month ago, and decided I had fulfil my fantasies with professional before I got myself into trouble by having an affair. So, I got on the internet and stumbled across Cleopatra Escorts. First of all, I was really impressed with their website. Everything was so well laid out, with professionally taken photos of some simply stunning young women and information about their age and country of origin. I got quite absorbed in looking through all of the women, but what finally grabbed my attention were the details of the services they offered. That’s what was important to me.
Using the drop down menu, I just clicked on dominance and I felt a surge of adrenalin as I got closer to making my dreams a reality. One of the women, dressed in PVC and brandishing a whip caught my attention immediately. I knew I had to have her…or let her have me. Nervously, I reached out to Cleopatra Escorts immediately and explained my situation. I was so relieved that they were incredibly helpful and understanding and it felt like a normal business interaction and not something bad. But wait a minute. I’m so very bad. I’m a bad, bad boy and I needed to be disciplined.
I was not disappointed. I hope Erika wasn’t either. She seemed pleased with me and has even said that she will allow me to visit her again in the future.
Returning to reality, I giggle as I tell myself that old joke, ‘Where’s the soap? Oh, it does, doesn’t it?’ Yes, it did. There I’ve gone being a bad boy again. Must see Erika again soon.
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