the art of anticipation 🖤

The other day, I had a truly electrifying phone conversation with a favourite client. 
The connection sparked something in me, a reminder of just how powerful words alone can be. So, if you're drawn to that kind of charged intimacy, I do offer these sessions for a nominal fee. Reach out anytime at ashleyomar@proton.me.

But let me paint a different picture for you today. Let me set the scene properly.

Imagine this: You are blindfolded. Handcuffed. Vulnerable, yet perfectly safe.
I collect you from your location, stepping into a taxi with you.
I take you to an undisclosed destination, somewhere between the known and the unknown.

Your heart races. One of your primary senses has been dulled, leaving the others heightened. You cannot see where we are going, only the sensation of movement. 
You are being transported elsewhere, yet you know you aren't alone.
I am in the back seat with you.

Minutes start to stretch into what feels like hours. Time loses its grip. The taxi zig-zags through traffic, weaving through the London streets. You are untethered from your own timeline. The passage of minutes slows to a snail's pace. Sweat beads on your brow. Breath catches. You take them nervous, shakily.
Your mind spirals—did you make the right choice? What awaits? Is this real?

You know you are in safe hands, but even those nerves of steel feel fragile. 
Yet, you trust the process. It is up to me now.

We arrive. I guide you gently from the taxi, shielding your head from the doorframe. 
It feels like a hostage situation where there is no room for negotiation. It is 20:30pm. 
Darkness is all around us. You feel the crisp chill of the air as you stand beside the awaiting cab while I settle the fare.

Then, I place a collar around your neck, attaching a leash. You take tentative, uncertain steps forward. I lead you, guiding you to our final resting place—not literally,
but a place where control shifts entirely to me. I need you alive, alert and 100% present for what follows.

You are dressed in your traditional suit and tie. We step into the location where I secure you lovingly, your hands positioned above your head. You are my prisoner now. I decide what happens next.

The slow click of my Louboutins echoes as I take deliberate steps around you, examining my prey.

Next, I undress you—leisurely, seductively. First, the suit jacket comes off, hung lovingly nearby. The tie loosens, lifted over your head. My manicured fingers brush your neck, sending a tingle rushing through you. Then, the shirt. I take great care to unbutton it slowly, painstakingly.

I do not remove it entirely, not yet. Instead, from behind, I roll the fabric up and secure the back with a hair tie. Wrinkles don't matter—nothing a good launderette couldn't handle.

I’m pressed flush against your back. You feel my lacy underwear, the soft weight of my plump breasts. Lovingly, I unbuckle, unbutton and unzip you from behind. My hot breath brushes against your ear as I whisper delicately into your left side: "Just wait for me." 
I deliberately draw out the process.

You cannot see my movements, but you can sense them. I squat down, fingers tucked into your waistband, purposefully pulling down both pants and trousers. They join the suit jacket.

"Do the socks stay on?" I ask. You oblige as I remove those too.

You’ll get them back… eventually. Gently, I cup your cheeks. My hands caress your neck, lightly sweep across your chest. Pressure increases as I work my way down to your stomach. You shiver. A reflexive movement.

Before we have truly begun, you are already responding fully. Wetness beads at the top of your cock. I can see it. I want to feel it. To taste it.

Suddenly, those two hands become four. Sensations flood your body. Some lightly pinch your nipples. You cannot quite distinguish whose touch is whose.
Does it matter? It feels exhilarating. The thrill of helplessness, the mystery of where those hands will land next. You relish the feeling of them all over you, startng off loving and gentle, increasingly becoming more urgent, Hungry even.

Hands run down your legs, drifting dangerously close to your member but not quite touching. 
A moan escapes your lips. You cannot take it. The anticipation is unbearable—the light, delicate stroking leading to full arousal. Next, lips press against skin. Gentle nips and bites. 
On your neck, your nipples, adorned with kisses across your chest, your back, the inside of your thigh.

It is almost overwhelming.

Wouldn't that be something to experience?

Perhaps I will leave it here, allowing your imagination to fill in the blanks and decide what happens next.

Whilst this is my fantasy, why not make it your reality?

Ashley x