My girlfriend, the dominatrix

Mon, 22 Mar 2010 21:11:00 +0000

I consider myself a thoroughly modern fellow. I'm young enough to be comfortable with novel things and old enough to have visited many of the world's odder nooks and crannies. So when Leena revealed that she had a part-time job outside her work at a London museum, I was struck dumb for only a moment.

I admit, the whole domination-submission thing is beyond my ken. I've administered a measured spank or two, when it seemed appropriate. And I'm aware that there exists a widespread subculture of BDSM enthusiasts. But I've never devoted any thought to the practice. It holds no interest for me.

Still, I congratulated myself that, as Leena's warm brown eyes tracked my face, I displayed no sign of dismay, disorientation or disapproval. Instead, I asked her to please tell me more about her sideline business.

Apparently, it involved no actual sexual contact. Apparently, there is a kind of therapeutic value to what she does for her clients. Apparently, there is surprisingly high demand for such services in the City. And apparently, Leena rather enjoyed her work.

We'd met a month previously, at a cigar terrace in Belgravia. I was in town for a few months, working on a project, and some colleagues decided to end the week by wasting our hard-earned money on unhealthy things shipped in from Scotland and Cuba.

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My girlfriend, the dominatrix