Escaping Escorting’s Chains to Embrace Dominatrix Power

When I became a domination escort in London I made it clear I still want to be a dominatrix. My boss was more than happy to oblige. This time a client called with a specific BDSM related request, and I immediately agreed, before I even knew the details. The meeting was set for two days for now, as we discussed all the specifics, I got more and more excited.

The day of the meeting, I was ecstatic, it’s been months since my last BDSM session. I dressed up rather casually, but took an outfit to change in the hotel. I hoped that it would be to Henry’s liking, I could really use a regular client like him. My excitement, and, let’s be honest, arousal, made me go to the hotel early.

I had no trouble finding his room, I’ve been in this building a couple of times now. I fixed my hair in the pocket mirror and knocked. Despite the fact I was still a good fifteen minutes before time, he opened the door quite fast. Almost as if he’s been waiting for me already.

“Hi,” I greeted him, smiling politely.

“Hello, beautiful,” he smiled back and gestured for me to come in.

He was actually quite handsome, not typically attractive, but he had something that made my eyes linger on him a bit longer. His hair was mid-length, curly and covering a part of his face, he was younger than I thought too. During our phone conversation, I assumed he was in his forties, judging by how deep his voice was and how mature he seemed. Now, looking at his slim frame, smooth face, playful smile and spirited eyes framed by long eyelashes, I knew he must be much younger, probably not even thirty.

We went to the living area of the hotel room and he offered me to sit on the loveseat. The room was spacious and overall looked fancy, I wondered how much it cost and how a person that young could afford it.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked me, toying with his hands.

He was nervous, I could sense it in the air.

“Maybe coke? Zero, if it’s possible,” I smiled, hopefully in a reassuring way.

He took out a can of coke and poured it into a glass. It was a nice touch, very gentlemanly of him, which I definitely appreciated. Working as a high-end professional escort, most of my clients were gentlemen, but it was rare with younger men. He poured himself a normal one and sat next to me.

“Are we keeping all the rules we set over the phone?” I asked him, interrupting the silence between us.

“Yes, I think so,” he blushed, “I’m fairly new to this. I mean, not this, but, hm, paying for this.”

“It’s all right,” I laughed, “We can just talk for a while, if that would make you more comfortable.”

He nodded, looking down at his hands holding the glass. I leaned back to be more comfortable and asked him about his hobbies.

At first his answers were short, he was still very tense, but after a while he got more into it. We chatted about nothing, as I tried to get him used to my presence and my touch. I started by playfully touching his arm a couple of times, then I slid closer to him. When his hair fell down and covered his eyes, I stopped him, and brushed them off myself. He was still nervous, but now it was more of a normal awkwardness when talking to someone you’re attracted to, than what it was previously. I sneakily checked the time and noticed we were already half an hour into what was supposed to be a BDSM session. Since Henry still wasn’t making any moves, I placed my hand on his thigh. He stopped mid-sentence and licked his lips, stunned by my gesture, but he gathered himself and continued. I pretended as if nothing was happening, but I gradually moved my hand up.

When my hand finally landed in its destination, which obviously was his crotch, I leaned forward a bit and bit my lower lip. He looked into my eyes and I felt his hand firmly pressing on my back. I smiled in response and, in one swift move, sat on his lap. I kissed him slowly, but he eagerly opened his mouth, letting me dominate and deepen the kiss. His hands travelled down my back and grabbed my ass. It felt good, but I had different plans, after all I was a dominatrix. Still kissing him, I grabbed his arms and held his hands behind his head.

“What do you think?” I asked him, gasping for air, “Do you want to be my boy toy?”

“Yes, please,” he whispered, looking at me with hunger that gave me a tingly sensation.

“Call me Mistress, after all you want to be mine, hm?” I traced my fingernail along his throat, holding his arms with my left hand.

Obviously, he could break free at any given moment, but that would ruin the BDSM theme.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, looking me deep in the eyes.

I felt overwhelmed by arousal. Being his dominatrix is going to be a lot of fun.

Join me as I continue to unravel the depths of my dominatrix persona, exploring foot fetish fantasies and igniting a fire of intimate desires that knows no bounds. Part Two takes us further into the heart of our story. So the journey is far from complete. Click on to Part Two of My Dominatrix Session with Henry 

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