I love the idea of being told to dress up because we’re going somewhere very nice. And then, after I spend all the time into getting ready and making myself all pretty, I just wind up like this. An ambush, a ruse.
cruel
Being a Brave Girl, Part Three
Sir returned and pulled me up to my feet, bringing me over to the bed. He kissed me and had me lie down while he took out a neatly coiled length of rope. "I thought all the rope was at my place,“ I pouted when he pushed my legs back, essentially folding me up. He pulled my arms around my legs and tied my hands together, forcing me to hold the position.
"Well, I saved some,” he chuckled and kissed me softly.
Taking me by the hair, he turned my head and buried my face in his cock. I accepted it eagerly, sucking him until he was hard enough to fuck me.
It’s kind of crazy how much you can miss someone’s cock. In your mouth, inside of you. But I’d been masturbating for the past month and literally missing the way it felt.
We fucked hungrily. I kept kissing him. I wanted so badly to touch his face and I needed so desperately to get him closer. And, yeah, all the denial had made me pretty needy.
When I had to cum, I started begging.
“Oh yeah?” He teased, “you need to cum?”
“Uh huh,” I exclaimed, “please?”
Without any warning, he pulled out and stepped back from me, smirking. I practically shrieked, squirming in my bonds and kicking my feet. Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy.
Those little nooses on her nipples are just plain cruel.
Tantrum material.
Mostly, because she knows the wastefulness of it all drives him crazy.
And she likes doing just that.
Humbled, Part 1
I had been messing around with something I enjoyed from the submission end: denial. Switch said he liked the idea of it. I guess he didn’t realize how mean I could be.
One morning, I tied him to the chair in front of his desk. One benefit of having been tied up so much is I know what works and what’s challenging. “If you can get out by the time I’ve finished my hair, I’ll think about letting you cum,” I said. He looked cocky. I’m sure he figured he was strong enough to just break right out. Unfortunately, he underestimated the power of well-tied knots and cinching.
When we messed around, I didn’t let him finish. To his credit, he didn’t complain. I’m usually a massive whiner. Apparently, he was actually really enjoying this. So, I got confident and started pushing how mean I could get. I wasn’t awful. I just spent a day or two getting him close and not getting him off whenever we hooked up. And then I would tease him about it.
So, the day I got what was coming to me, I decided to be extra cruel. And that’s probably why I got what was coming to me.
So, some of you have been asking why I only seem to post about Switch dominating me. One, I haven’t had much time to sit down and write out what we’ve been up to. Two, gosh, I don’t know, it still makes me blush a lot.
I’ll fill the air by saying that I’m sometimes surprised how easy it is for me to dominate someone. I find submitting much more rewarding, but dominating comes fairly natural to me. While there have been a few teensy hiccups, I think I can attribute my success to having seen it from the other side and being able to discern what works and what more or less doesn’t.
Also, I may just be really, really mean. Because, it’s sort of funny. My persona when I dominate is always vaguely amused. I laugh a lot. I speak sweetly, I tease. It might be the fact that he could probably kick the crap out of me for half the stuff I say to him and doesn’t. And that’s control on the part of both involved parties.
I think the best way to describe what I’m like when I’m on top is vaguely within the lines of what some people describe as a babydomme. The word “Daddy” never comes into play, but my voice is almost always sweet, I giggle a lot, it all comes off a little bit precious. I think it’s that, honestly, with my size, I’d look a little absurd if I were yelling or too overtly cruel. And I’m plenty cruel, I just do it with some giggles thrown in. Which, honestly, may just be a little crueler.
So, yes, I’ll get to stories. I promise. You’ll all find out how positively mean I am.
“Why are you so cruel?”
It’s something that she asks from time to time, though the circumstances often vary. Sometimes, it’s in a vaguely smug sort of way. Sometimes it’s a whine. Or through tears. Or under a moan.
His answer, however, is always the same.
“Because you wouldn’t have it any other way.”