Here’s the thing about Vienna’s Hotel Orient: you don’t book it for the night. See, it’s not really designed for sleep. Nor are you allowed to give your real name when booking your three-hour slot. It’s not that sort of establishment.
If the marble bust of Franz-Joseph, on the mantlepiece in the Kaiser Suite, could talk, I imagine it would rather blush. On Valentines Day it would have told tale of Emma Jane, naked and beautiful, sipping a glass of chilled fizz; of her bent over the chaise longue being langorously and pleasurably whipped, before we moved to another velvet-clad chair for my girl and I to.. well, you can imagine, no doubt. It was probably a good thing the Emperor was looking the other way.
Now our kinks aren’t really that aligned these days: roleplay is less-and-less her thing away from group scenes. I don’t offer her the erotic lure of the new; given our real-life relationship equality she finds it hard to submit to much by way of pain or instruction when we play, and I struggle with being denied control when a play partner ‘tops from the bottom’.
But still we have fun, finding opportunities like this to discover new ways of creating kinky intimacy, quite aside from far more vanilla ‘cuddles’. And she is, after all, by far the sexiest woman I’ve ever known. This was certainly the hottest thing we’ve done in a while! “Valentines Day in a not-quite brothel?” Really: highly recommended!