Mostly, because she knows the wastefulness of it all drives him crazy.
And she likes doing just that.
mean
If you had shown me this image a year ago, it wouldn’t have done much for me.
Now, I stare a little longer at pictures like these. I appreciate them.
And sometimes I even crack a grin.
That guy from my frat actually just asked me if I’ve ever heard of Feminist Ryan Gosling. Seriously?
So, I had no issue bullying him a little. Because I think it’s been too long since I bullied him. And because I think he deserves it.
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.
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.
Meet Switch, Part Seven
Eventually, I got a little mean.
I took his clothes off slowly, his shirt first. I licked and bit over his skin. I made him shiver. I told him to be a good boy and hold still for me. I told him not to disappoint me, he wouldn’t want that.
I felt a little absurd. I’m much smaller than him. I have to stand on my toes to kiss him. He can hold me down fairly easily, he can overpower me pretty effortlessly.
I felt even sillier when he called me Mistress. I felt uncomfortable when he called me Ma’am (it’s what SG calls his mother). I felt like a teacher when he said Miss.
And so I took a page from Heart.
“You’re going to call me Pretty. Capital P, proper fucking noun,” I yanked his pants off.
He didn’t hesitate, “yes, Pretty.”
I sat down on his thighs and traced my finger over his cock through his boxers. He shivered. “All worked up, huh?” I grinned.
“Yes, Pretty,” he said again.
I kept his boxers on and started a slow sweep of two fingers up and down his cock. His body tensed, his hands curled into fists. I’m sure it was partially to keep from grabbing me and pushing my face into his crotch. There was something undeniably erotic about that sort of personal restraint. “Bet you want me to take it out, huh?”
“Please, Pretty,” he groaned out. I wasn’t sure if he was using it as my nickname or as an adjective when he added, “pretty please.”
I shrugged, “I don’t know, I sort of like playing like this.” I kept at slowly running my fingers up and down his cock, experimenting with the pressure through his boxers. “Tell you what? Hold still for three minutes and I’ll take your cock out.”
Switch stared up at the ceiling and sucked in a deep breath. It was going to be a long three minutes.
Dacry’s just the meanest.
Ivy whines too much. I can’t think over the sound of Ivy whining. Luckily, I have a solution.