My coworkers think I bite my lip when I’m deep in concentration… of course, I let them think that. They don’t need to know that I’m really thinking about… collars and blindfolds and belts and… being fucked hard, a hand around my throat… pretty red marks on my pale skin… tied… helpless… begging for release.
I love that on the outside I appear calm, collected and so perfectly focused but no one can see the subtle clenching of my thighs under my desk. No one can see me squirm ever so slightly when a particularly enticing thought crosses my mind.
It’s my favorite part about my life. No one has any idea.