Exactly a year ago, (to the day if you’re reading this on Sunday) I entered Mistress Elita’s stunning aparment for a session with her and a friend who, I had been told, was new to sex work. Sat in Elita’s armchair, a robe wrapped tightly round her as if for protection, was a strikingly beautiful young woman with blond hair and a shy, rather nervous smile.
This was my first encounter with Miss Lilly Watson.
It was her first encounter with sex work and also her first encounter with BDSM, although she seemed to get to grips with Elita’s multi tailed whip with alarming alacrity.
A year later, and I am still seeing Lilly. To mark this anniversary we went to see the amazing Cirque du Soleil OVO show at the Royal Albert Hall and spent the night together in a nearby hotel. Before the show we drank champagne, fed each other smoked salmon and made love with an abandon born of easy familiarity. Lilly regards pre-date sex as “slutty” but approves none the less. As, indeed, do I.
After the show, and a night-cap in the ornately decorated hotel bar, I had darker plans.
I tied Lilly to the end of the bed and went to work.
The beauty of an all-night encounter is the absence of any time pressure. If I have an hour or two with someone, I find myself clockwatching. Now I could take my time and Lilly, tied as she was, wasn’t going anywhere. She wasn’t going anywhere at all.
For perhaps an hour I treated her as my submissive plaything, layering pain and pleasure, mixing physical assault with intimacy, all the time relentlessly building the intensity of the sensations to which I was exposing her. I used the flat of my hand; I used a flogger, a riding crop, nipple clips, my teeth, my lips, my fingers. I used her vibrator. She started clothed and able to see me moving around her, able to anticipate my next action, but later I blindfolded her and removed her lingerie, spreading her legs, adding to her sense of vulnerability.
One moment I was hurting her, seemingly cruel and merciless; the next I was caressing her, all tender and kind, offering praise and admiration.
Finally, I sat on the bed directly in front of her, her thighs between mine. We were face to face so I could soak up every nuance of her reaction to what I was doing. And I made her come. I made her come again and again until she could barely stand, gasping out her orgasms: “Oh, My God, Oh, My God, Oh, My God…”
And after all this? After all this she leant into me and whispered “Thank You” into my ear.
Oh, Lilly. Thank You too.
Lilly has written a wonderfully candid account of her year in sex work and has let me publish it on my blog. You can find it here. Do read it. Sex work is usually shown in such an unflattering light and Lilly’s account of the wonderful community and the support network she found paints a different, more positive, picture.
The verticals don’t quite divide this image into three, in line with the “Rule of Three” theme. I “may” have been distracted.
More Sunday sin can be found here: