review by Jeremy

The street is quiet in the dusk. At the end of the road someone leaves the
corner shop and drives off. Nervously, I approach a discrete door and ring
the bell. The photos on the website looked too good to be true and if I’ve
been had over I’m out of here in a moment! Softly, the door opens and in the
shadows I see her, wearing a body net, tight black loin cloth and magnificent
high heeled black boots. Photos be damned! No camera could do justice to
this Angel, this Goddess. I slide quickly through the door and stand looking
at her with my mouth open. Involuntarily, my eyes scan her matchless curves
and I begin to realise that I have met my own Nemesis. I presume to offer her
a kiss, which she accepts. With short, confident steps she leads me inside
her domain and leans nonchalantly on a black leather torture bench. Her deep,
dark eyes hold mine as my heart races and in a soft warm voice she greets me
and asks me about my history, desires and limits. She speaks with the hint of
a lisp, making her voice even more seductive. Trying hard not to stammer I
answer her questions. Sensing my confusion, her lovely face lights up with a
glowing smile. Her eyes seem to flicker with amusement. She knows that she
has me spellbound. In less than two minutes of our meeting I am helpless
before her, intoxicated by her warm presence and her sweet, expensive
perfume. Trying to regain a little composure I hand over my gift. How meagre
it seems to me now, but she takes it with grace, charming me further with a
slight nod of gratitude. She leaves the room for a moment and when she
returns her mood has changed. “OFF!“ she commands, waving dismissively at my
clothing with her perfectly manicured hand. Any resistance I may still retain
is swept away in an instant. We have begun.

The candles gutter. Incense permeates the room. I am strapped and chained
immovably to a St Andrew’s Cross. Red marks cross my body like brands of
slavery. My manhood strains helplessly against escalating waves of
electricity. Gagged and blindfolded, my other senses run haywire. By
twisting my head I can just glimpse the figure of my Mistress, her sleek
muscles gliding under her rich and flawless skin as she paces in front of me
like a panther, lashing me with her flogger and with harsh words by turns.
Her strong hand grips the instrument with the precision of a trained athlete.
Does she guess that I can see her? Turning for a moment, she stoops to pick
up the next object for my torment and in doing so presents me with a sight
that I will never forget. She knows! I hear her soft chuckle of amusement.
She is as wicked as she is beautiful and I will pay a steep price for that
glimpse of Heaven!

My time is done. I kiss her cheek with deep devotion as she releases me and
surveys her handiwork with satisfaction. We laugh. A pleasant chat, all too
brief, and she puts me out of the door like a dazed Tomcat. I am spent,
exhausted and content. My knees wobble, just a little, as I make my way
towards the Station. I see a Pub and the warmth of laughter and liquor draws
me inside. Sitting in the corner with a large whisky, my mind endlessly
replays my experiences of the past hour, when her gorgeous body brushed
against mine. I have seen Goddesses before in museums. Marble perfection,
cold and white, devoid of life. My Goddess is finer than they. Firm but
soft, warm and dark and her laughter lights up the room. Even as I finish my
drink I feel a swelling urge to return. I have tasted the forbidden fruit of
Eden and I will have more.

Cheers for now,