By Elizabeth Swan onThis morning I was expecting a phone call from a slave. We had spoken a few times via Adult Work phone chat and each time we talked fantasies he played with himself (which is generally what phone chat men do. They aren't paying one or two pound a minute to talk politics.) Anyway this morning before he reached his destination he went quiet mid sentence and then said “Oh hell, why don't you just come over.” It transpired that he was in a hotel not too far away from me. Normally the chance of me being available at short notice was incredibly slim but as luck would have it the only plans I had today was buying a piano. So I agreed to visit him and put him out of his misery. I came off the phone and packed what I needed for the session. I looked down at myself. Ye Gods, I was still wearing my Batman pyjamas. I knew there was a reason I liked a lot of notice before a session. So after hastily showering and dressing discreetly in thigh high suede boots and a leather skirt (it's a long leather skirt okay! With buttons down the centre. Think Bette Davis not Bet Lynch.) I was ready to go. He had sent me the Google map location so I couldn't get lost. But of course I did. Somehow I found myself trying to get into the tradesmen’s entrance of the hotel. Then the penny dropped that for such a large hotel, there may well be a larger entrance. With a door that actually, you know, works. So I walked around the building and found the lobby. My slave was waiting in the lobby reading a newspaper. Not the Guardian so that was a good start. He was nice looking, late thirties and looked a tad nervous. We went to his room. I was not nervous. I may play the fool and the comedy domme but when it comes to a session I know exactly what I am doing. I told him to strip and watched him as he did. I then told him to get on his knees as I removed various items from my bag. I dressed him in pink French satin knickers and a pink bra, stockings and a frilly white petticoat. Then I restrained him to the bed making sure he couldn't touch his cock. I then took off my knickers and gagged him with them and walked out, leaving him there, not knowing if the next person through the door would be me, or the maid. What? You’re still reading? Oh! You are wondering if he’s still there. I did of course return to continue the session. And I should say I would only walk out if it was a slave’s fantasy. Or if the man was Tim Farron.