You’re so naive. Seriously, you thought I’d be this quiet, demure submissive when you approach me? Well guess what; you’re been wrong. Very wrong. That may be the persona I put up in social media. You wanted to meet me. So, don’t blame me for what is about to happen to you.

Now you walk up the stairs to my dungeon while I take the elevator. 41st floor. First door on the right. It’ll be unlocked. When you come in, you better be stripped naked and on your knees. Then wait inside my apartment until I have time for you. Is that understood?

Good pet. Fold up your smelly clothes and place them in the bag in front of you. You’re complaining? Fucking loser! Let me think. Yes, it was you who wanted to meet me in real life. You were absolutely clear that I could never disappoint you if we met. You didn’t want the ‘escort’ version of me, you wanted the real me. That’s exactly what you’re getting. So shut the fuck up!

Look! Yes, you, you worthless piece of scum. You think I’m talking to the fucking walls around here? You see the window? Crawl over there and open it. Then place the bag on the ledge outside and close the window again. Now!

What? You’re afraid they might fall down? Guess what, you should be afraid. The pigeons will take care of it. Disgusting little creatures. Just like you.

Holy shit. Dear reader, I’m really sorry, I can’t pull this off. I tried to write something from the dominant perspective, but I’m just laughing my ass off. I even ordered a cheap x-large latex top to wear!! (Oh, and panties.) Even pulled out the crop and took a picture, but it just ain’t working.

Mistress Francesca goes back into the drawer of failed attempts, but I had a good laugh. If you’d ever like to meet Mistress Francesca, I suggest you google one.

Sinful Sunday