I'm curious. Always have been.
The idea to visit a dominant mistress however never crossed my mind until one day I was browsing online at something else and I saw an ad. Curious, I clicked on.
What was it? The allure of something darker, quite literally? The promise of intellectual and sensual punishment? Her long stocking clad legs next to a leather bound gimp? I'm not sure but I wanted some.
I filled my head with all that was on offer; Spanking, servitude, face slapping, spitting and cross dressing. Again, something I had no interest in but her words made me want to explore and try it all. My first mistress. One of three.
Probably sounding absurd I called and faced a barrage of questions. My wants and whys. My experience, my limits. When I might be available.
I booked my first session.
I'm pretty sure people bottle it at this stage but as I paced up a suburban West London street I couldn't wait. The second the time was right I rang the doorbell and was immediately buzzed in without a word. Two flights of stairs and into a door silently.
Wooden floors echoed her high heels that led, via stockings, to a very short skirt. White shirt opened enough to see her tits or at least the edge of her bra. I am honest enough to say I wanted to fuck her. But that wasn't to be, I wasn't here to be anything other than fucked around with.