The first time she tried to bring the crop over, she used her hands.
She’s been trained a little better now.
rules
My first meeting was Friday morning and it went exceptionally well.
I was tired, nonetheless, after having stayed up with Penthouse the night before. So, when I got back to his place, he ushered me into his bedroom.
“You’re taking a nap,” he said.
As a child, I was terrible at nap time. My teacher in preschool had to give me another activity to do after I would stay up and try to get the children around me to stay up with me. So, unless I am falling all over myself tired, I don’t take naps even now.
I pouted. “I can’t just nap."
He made sure to watch me get into bed and went to the door. "Close your eyes, I’ll join you in a little bit.”
I curled up in his bed and sighed. Outside, I could hear him talking to a few of his roommates. Blushing, I turned onto my stomach and closed my eyes.
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.
“I think Pretty wants her pussy eaten now.”
The difficult part about punishing Switch is that he’s usually really into whatever the punishment is. The boy is crazy about eating pussy, so it’s not really that much of a disciplinary tactic. It’s the same problem I have. Punishments are easily just mean rewards.
He tugged my shorts down and went for my panties next. When his fingers looped under the waist, I had a thought and slapped his hands away. “No, I don’t think you’ve earned that.” I spread my legs over his shoulders, “over the panties. Bad boys don’t get Pretty’s pussy.”
Resigned, he licked through the lace with this terribly earnest expression on his face. He wanted to be good for me. And, usually being a submissive myself, I could understand completely what he was going through and appreciate it.
“Okay, fine, you win,” I muttered after a few minutes and pulled my panties aside.
I guess I’m just a little bit of a pushover.
She has a set of rules to follow regarding how to sit in chairs. Perhaps they’re a little particular, but most are in the interest of posture, others aesthetic.
When she’s caught, she’ll insist that she’s sitting up straight. She will tell you how this shows her off better, how it makes prominent the lacing of her corset or the thin fabric over her rear.
And it will all make perfect sense, but so will the added punishment of the top of the back of the chair digging into her stomach as she’s pulled up, bent over it and dealt with properly.