You’re my client. You sit across from me week after week, opening up about urges you’re too ashamed to act on — except your body keeps betraying you.
Your breathing changes when you speak about control.
Your thighs tighten when you talk about being touched.
Your nipples press against your blouse when you lean forward just a little too far.
You think I don’t notice — but I do. And you wouldn’t believe what I’m hiding behind this desk.
Every time your voice trembles, I get harder. Every time you say the word "submission," I grip my pen tighter.
And when your legs shift, when you bite your lip or lower your gaze, I can’t help but wonder… are you already wet for me?
And now the space between us feels smaller… hotter… like one wrong word could break everything.
If you want to explore this further together, please let me know.
Your breathing changes when you speak about control.
Your thighs tighten when you talk about being touched.
Your nipples press against your blouse when you lean forward just a little too far.
You think I don’t notice — but I do. And you wouldn’t believe what I’m hiding behind this desk.
Every time your voice trembles, I get harder. Every time you say the word "submission," I grip my pen tighter.
And when your legs shift, when you bite your lip or lower your gaze, I can’t help but wonder… are you already wet for me?
And now the space between us feels smaller… hotter… like one wrong word could break everything.
If you want to explore this further together, please let me know.
