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.