This time it was his turn to set the rules. A regular outcall client of mine, always so eager to please, but tonight he wanted to step into the role of power. He begged until I finally gave in. I was sceptical, of course. He’d always carried himself like a natural submissive. But if escorting has taught me anything, it’s that people are rarely one thing only — and role play is as much about imagination as desire.
The keys waited for me at reception, discreetly pressed into my hand. I slipped into the penthouse, the hush of the carpets cushioning every step, until I found him in the living area.
“Hello, Boss,” I said softly, with a bow of my head. “You promised me punishment today.”
He chuckled, amused by my obedience. “Somebody’s been naughty.”
“Then punish me,” I murmured, leaning closer, letting the weight of the game settle over us.
He rose, his shadow stretching tall across the table, and with surprising force he turned me to face the polished wood. The suddenness made me laugh nervously, though my pulse skipped. He tested me first, light strikes that made me giggle more than wince. But when I pushed back, daring him, he grew sharper, his hand falling with a sting that had me squirming. He read me well — always knew when to stop before it became too much. My skin burned, heat radiating where his touch had landed.
I closed my eyes, letting myself fall deeper into the scene. He pinned me with his presence, heavy with authority, and every movement of his body against mine reminded me of how much control I had given away.
“Do you like this?” he asked, voice low, teasing.
“Yes, Boss,” I whispered, caught between nerves and thrill.
“Tell me more.”
I hesitated. I never liked degrading words, not really — I prided myself on being more than that. But in the haze of play, with my heartbeat racing, I let myself go further than usual. “I’m yours,” I said breathlessly, “only yours.”
That was enough to drive him deeper into the role. His laughter broke the tension, but his grip was firm, relentless. The penthouse seemed to blur around us; the world shrank to the heat of skin, the scent of sweat, the sound of my own ragged breath. Pleasure and discomfort tangled in ways I couldn’t quite untie — I wanted him to stop, I wanted him to continue, both truths pulsing at once.
When the end finally came, it was with a flood of release that left us both breathless. He slumped against me, still laughing quietly, before whispering in my ear: “I like being the Boss. But next time… it’s your turn.”
I smiled at that. Balance always finds its way back, one way or another.
If this left you tingling for more, don’t miss the next chapter of our office fantasy: Steamy Roleplay with My Boss