If you missed the start of this strange little adventure, you can catch up with Part One of my foxgirl roleplay. That night didn’t end there — not even close. What came next was… harder to explain. A mix of play, surrender and me slipping further into the foxgirl role than I ever meant to.
“Now it’s your turn to satisfy me,” he said. Simple words, but they landed heavy.
I was still dizzy, body twitching with aftershocks, not even sure if I was myself anymore or just some half-wild version he’d summoned out of me. I slid down from his lap, legs not co-operating, and sank to my knees. A ridiculous part of me thought — is this really me? The woman who swore she’d never kneel for anyone? And yet… here I was.
“How do you want me to please you, Sir?” The line slipped out softer than I intended. Too soft. Almost needy.
He leaned back, all casual authority, like he’d known I’d cave sooner or later. “Start with your mouth.”
So I did. Careful at first, then bolder, until I couldn’t help myself — I took his hand, placed it on my hair, told him without words to guide me. And when he did, something clicked. My chest tightened, not just from lack of air, but from giving in. From letting someone else dictate the rhythm. It was unnerving. Thrilling too. Exactly why men chase roleplay escorts in London — the line between performance and reality vanishes before you notice.
A light slap against my chest pulled a gasp out of me. Reflex. My back arched forward, as if begging him to do it again. And he did. Harder. The foxplay wasn’t a game anymore, it had swallowed me whole.
“Do you want me to take you?” he asked, fingers teasing, drawing out a sound that wasn’t quite a yes, not quite a plea.
“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, and hated how fast the words came.
“Louder.”
My throat tightened. “Please, Sir. Take me.”
That got me his smile. “Good little foxgirl.”
I crawled onto the bed like I’d been waiting for that order all night. He teased, denied, let me writhe. And every second stretched me thinner, until I wasn’t sure if I was acting anymore. Maybe I’d stopped acting the moment I called him Sir.
The begging spilled out without much thought — broken, messy, far too real. And when he finally gave me what I’d asked for, I clutched at the sheets, half-angry at myself for meaning it so much.
If you enjoyed this foxplay fantasy, you’ll love another of my playful roleplay encounters — Cheerleader Fantasy with Two Escorts It’s a story of costumes, games and unexpected passion you won’t want to miss.