The joy of hedonism

I was not expecting Genevieve’s answer. I had asked her about Desmond, about the group and about the mysterious man who called himself the ‘master’ and yet seemed to spend his days and nights as Desmond’s chauffeur and go to guy. But as Genevieve fell asleep in my arms, barely conscious and following our lovemaking in that lovely warm post orgasm place she let her guard down and revealed the truth.

“The master is my father Sarah. He was the one who first saw you at your club, heard you rejecting the advances of customers, heard your boss mention that you are a virgin and he asked Desmond to seduce you for the group. Desmond’s a clever guy and he realised that you would just rebuff his advances, and that’s where I came in.”

I was shocked. To be so easily manipulated and yet, now that I had been subject to the concerted attentions of the group I was ready for whatever they wanted me to do. They had transformed me from an innocent into a hedonistic wanton woman, someone who was eager to love and be loved, to enjoy physical experiences, to give her body to others for the ultimate in sensual pleasure. In my heart I knew it, I was submissive by nature and I needed a man to control me. Perhaps I would find that man at the ceremony. I knew I had abandoned all my childish ideas of finding Mr Right.

Fly, fly, fly to Central London Escorts to read about Sarah, Genevieve and the ‘Master’.