Once, I made Switch watch me touch myself.

There were some rules: he had to keep his hands behind his head and kneel, he couldn’t speak unless spoken to, and if he looked at me too lewdly I’d stop and he would be in big trouble. 

“You should just be happy Pretty’s letting you watch,” I chided when he huffed. 

That made him straighten up in what I presumed was an attempt to gain some favor. “Yes, Pretty, thank you so much,” he stammered out. 

I wanted to stay stern, but I just want to giggle when I make him nervous or see him blush. There’s just something about being able to crack someone just the teensiest bit.

I made a show of playing with myself to make it difficult for him. I sat on the bed right in front of him, legs spread, letting myself moan and gasp. I have to give the boy credit, he held still even when I eyefucked the living shit out of him and even when I turned around and leaned back against his chest and touched myself against him.

Unfortunately, I felt a little silly when I kept saying that I was going to get myself off on my own because I didn’t think he was worthy or capable of getting me off and then I wound up not being able to get myself off. I played it off like I was rewarding him when I let him take his hands off of his head and touch me, but I think he may have caught on. I just got myself entirely too worked up. When that happens, I need someone else to ground me, to take over and make me focus when I’m far too wound up in myself and how everything feels to be able to just get off.

So, I guess we both have little exploitable cracks that way.