lengthy, the kind of lasting length that can suitably investigate any pulsating pussy penetrated. However, this splendid specimen also had girth, giving way to a circumference which could inevitably instigate an orgasm in 30 seconds flat.
From initial conversations, I had gleaned that business boy was just out of a relationship, was trained in a professional occupation, and liked to think of himself as a sapiosexual, suggesting early on that intelligence was simply the most sexually attractive characteristic of any woman. Yet his alter ego was a filthy minded submissive who secretly struggled to reconcile his vanilla life and his kink filled desires. Iâd even go as far as to say that he felt ashamed of them to a certain extent. His female partners hadnât understood, some had even ended relationships because of them. Poor old business boy all alone in his suburban paradise with only a purple dildo for company.
Iâd also sussed that he had a penchant for strap-on, wanking whilst on the phone, being humiliated and a monumental heel fetish. He also craved wearing his favourite pair of blush coloured womenâs panties adorned with contrasting fuchsia lace, and never more so than whilst in board meetings.
As an initiation to Mistressâ milieu, I had already instructed him to enter the board room suitably attired in said briefs alongside a pair of 10 denier hold ups under his trousers. The clandestine challenge had culminated in him having to excuse himself from the board to find the nearest menâs toilet in order to relieve himself, returning just in time for his pitch on European Funding availability. Then there was the time when he had been travelling with a colleague to a meeting. As he journeyed South we exchanged covert and carnal text messages, which left his manhood definitely heading North. There we were being secretly salacious and overtly obscene, and all the while his travelling companion having no idea of what debauchery was afoot. His messages regaling Mistress with tales of how hard his cock was and how much it was dripping with desire to be chastised, climaxing with a âpit stopâ in the facilities of a service station en route.
Whatever the comparable circumstances, they had in fairness all engaged further enthusiasm on my part for the ensuing D/S relationship. A relationship which would reveal that business boy was in actual fact no beach bum surfer dude. He was a suit. A high profile, big salary earning, humiliation hunting, heel worshipping, submissive strap-on sucking suit. And for some reason Mistress was intent on taking his virginal grey flannelled ass.
And so, the day had arrived when the suit and the Mistress would finally meet. Business boy and I had agreed that our rendezvous was not to be regarded as a date by either party involved, more an erotic assignation. Yes it would be consensual, and yes it would be kinky but it would not require anything more than cursory commitment. In pursuit of this we had agreed to meet initially in the bar of the hotel that on my insistence I would choose, arrange and that of course he would pay for. Then, following what would inevitably be a flirtatious lunch we would relocate to the room.
When I arrived at the hotel bar, I spotted business boy in an instant. Dressed in a pair of indigo jeans complimented by a freshly pressed white shirt suitably completed with a pair of silver cuff links, business boy looked accomplished and well- groomed. He was sat alone in the one and only corner booth the hotel lounge had to offer, practically placed in an outlying part of the room and away from the hustle and bustle of the bar. It was the kind of booth that has no doubt seen many trysts over the years and if it were able, could tell a thousand stories. Rocking a pair of skinny fits and a sexy off the shoulder number, and teetering in my heels so high they defied gravity I sashayed across the room, stabilised only by a pull along bag containing my
From initial conversations, I had gleaned that business boy was just out of a relationship, was trained in a professional occupation, and liked to think of himself as a sapiosexual, suggesting early on that intelligence was simply the most sexually attractive characteristic of any woman. Yet his alter ego was a filthy minded submissive who secretly struggled to reconcile his vanilla life and his kink filled desires. Iâd even go as far as to say that he felt ashamed of them to a certain extent. His female partners hadnât understood, some had even ended relationships because of them. Poor old business boy all alone in his suburban paradise with only a purple dildo for company.
Iâd also sussed that he had a penchant for strap-on, wanking whilst on the phone, being humiliated and a monumental heel fetish. He also craved wearing his favourite pair of blush coloured womenâs panties adorned with contrasting fuchsia lace, and never more so than whilst in board meetings.
As an initiation to Mistressâ milieu, I had already instructed him to enter the board room suitably attired in said briefs alongside a pair of 10 denier hold ups under his trousers. The clandestine challenge had culminated in him having to excuse himself from the board to find the nearest menâs toilet in order to relieve himself, returning just in time for his pitch on European Funding availability. Then there was the time when he had been travelling with a colleague to a meeting. As he journeyed South we exchanged covert and carnal text messages, which left his manhood definitely heading North. There we were being secretly salacious and overtly obscene, and all the while his travelling companion having no idea of what debauchery was afoot. His messages regaling Mistress with tales of how hard his cock was and how much it was dripping with desire to be chastised, climaxing with a âpit stopâ in the facilities of a service station en route.
Whatever the comparable circumstances, they had in fairness all engaged further enthusiasm on my part for the ensuing D/S relationship. A relationship which would reveal that business boy was in actual fact no beach bum surfer dude. He was a suit. A high profile, big salary earning, humiliation hunting, heel worshipping, submissive strap-on sucking suit. And for some reason Mistress was intent on taking his virginal grey flannelled ass.
And so, the day had arrived when the suit and the Mistress would finally meet. Business boy and I had agreed that our rendezvous was not to be regarded as a date by either party involved, more an erotic assignation. Yes it would be consensual, and yes it would be kinky but it would not require anything more than cursory commitment. In pursuit of this we had agreed to meet initially in the bar of the hotel that on my insistence I would choose, arrange and that of course he would pay for. Then, following what would inevitably be a flirtatious lunch we would relocate to the room.
When I arrived at the hotel bar, I spotted business boy in an instant. Dressed in a pair of indigo jeans complimented by a freshly pressed white shirt suitably completed with a pair of silver cuff links, business boy looked accomplished and well- groomed. He was sat alone in the one and only corner booth the hotel lounge had to offer, practically placed in an outlying part of the room and away from the hustle and bustle of the bar. It was the kind of booth that has no doubt seen many trysts over the years and if it were able, could tell a thousand stories. Rocking a pair of skinny fits and a sexy off the shoulder number, and teetering in my heels so high they defied gravity I sashayed across the room, stabilised only by a pull along bag containing my
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