Bad Girl Switch

It’s two fifteen in the morning. But I don’t know it. I’m fast asleep; even for ten, maybe fifteen minutes after his message comes through. Then something causes me to stir. Out of habit, I check my phone and there it is.

‘Where are you?’

What the…?

Whatever happened to ignoring me? Oh. That’s right. I’ve been goading him. I do that with dominant males. It’s a fun pastime. I must have pushed a button or two a little too hard. Does sending him my knickers covered in the cum of another man constitute as goading? I think it might. Does telling him of slightly inappropriate things that occurred between me and his cousin? Apparently so. But that was more of a subconscious one. I really didn’t think it would matter that much. Or prompt this. Because he’s the guy that keeps everyone at arm’s length – most especially me. Good job I didn’t tell him about the two guys I had a threesome with the other week.

Sure this is the guy who cares about nothing, so why is he texting at this hour?

‘I’m at home, in bed,’ I reply.

His response is swift.

‘Get dressed and get here. Now.’

Oh God. He sounds angry.

Hm…well maybe I like angry.

Don’t capitulate so easy. Remember how often he has ignored you.

I type my response wearing a little smirk in the darkness.

‘For?’

‘Stop messing. You’ve got ten minutes to get here. We both know you’ll do as you’re told.’

The fuck!

Someone has got his cocky pants on tonight. Or rather this morning.

My mind is still sluggish from sleep but anger is stirring. With most guys I’m dominant. With a rare few, I’m sub. With him I’m truly switch. I can flip from one to the other in feelings and in deed. But he’s a clever man and he knows the effect this kind of behaviour from him will cause. He clearly believes I need put in my place. He’s attempting to assert himself and it irks me. My mind is saying, go fuck yourself. But my body is saying, yes please Sir. It’s the latter that replies.

‘I’ll be there within the half hour.’

That’s pushing it. My makeup and hair will be thrown together and what the hell am I going to wear? But no, he’s that mad, even that’s not good enough.

‘Come right now, as you are, or don’t come at all.’

Now that really annoys me. Arrogant, demanding git. I refuse and tell him I’m going back to sleep.

He’s not having that.

‘You’re done then.’

As astute as he is, he doesn’t realise there are limits as to how hard I will be pushed. Once you’ve pissed me off you can forget it. No one else has ever been allowed to treat me this way and get away with it. Other Doms have dommed but respectfully. And only my body. This one is trying to subjugate my mind and spirit almost by force. The others earned it. He can fuck right off.

I place my phone face down on my bedside table. I really should turn it off. But pride will prevent him from texting again I believe.

Only it doesn’t.

‘Show me her,’ he says. ‘A close up.’

What? He has got to be kidding. I know exactly what he means. Somehow this changes things. So he’s not just angry, he does physically want me in this moment. My heart thuds and a frisson of energy shoots from my stomach to my pussy as I remember the other times. And just like that, I become putty in his hands.

Ten minutes later, I’m at his door, wondering what I am going to find. He lets me in. There’s a gruff greeting which offends me. We enter the living room and he’s got a dress laid out on the sofa. He’d better not have another woman lurking in here, else I’m heading straight out the door.

But no. I’m requested to put it on. Damnit. He’s called me here, giving me no time for makeup or hair or anything and now he wants pretty? Get a life.

I look at him though and can see he genuinely wants it. And something in me wants very much to please him actually. So I do. I strip inelegantly, because well, I purposefully haven’t mastered that. I don’t like performing on request. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what he wants. He asks me to go stand by the wall and pose. Oh God. Why did I agree to this? And whose dress is this anyway? An old girlfriends? That thought gives me a girl wilter.

Then he approaches and shoves the dress over my hips and shimmies my plain white thong down. Yes, plain. At his request, when I would have preferred to wear a basque and stockings. He doesn’t want me to have anything to be proud of. He wants to cut me down to size. All that is forgotten though when he bends me forward and gently kisses my ass cheek and then my back.

‘Touch your toes,’ he says. ‘Yes. Good girl. Now lower.’

I comply and his tongue sears my secret places. Both of them. He is not merely wetting me or prepping me. He enjoys this. I can tell. I try to avoid communicating how much it’s affecting me but noises escape me, illicit sighs and moans. Dommed again.

He goes and sits in an armchair and pulls his sweatpants down, confidently revealing himself as if he’s got a foot long Mona Lisa of a prick. I’ve never seen him like this before, so demanding, so brash. It’s both amusing and arousing.

‘Please me,’ he says.

There’s no trace of defiance left in me now. The room is engulfed in lust. I place my hands on his hips and take him in. He is handsome here admittedly, just as he is everywhere else. These parts have my full attention though. I suck him, swirl my tongue and attempt to deep throat him. I spit and encase him in both fist and mouth. I lick his sac carefully. He is especially sensitive there.

But something is not right.

I always love doing this. But I’m not right now. Not as much as usual. His dominance and need for utter control has taken my confidence away. He’s like some accountant of kink. All rules and order. As a result, I suspect I am doing a poor job. He confirms this by ordering me to lick him in a different way. That knocks me further. I manage to deep throat him a little but feel no pleasure at this achievement. He’s left me with little sense of self. I’m just a thing to be commanded and dressed and posed. It dulls everything.

He requests I turn around and he enters me. It is pleasurable. My mood lightens a little. He surrenders a few compliments. Over and over, it’s a running commentary of how much I’m pleasing him or not pleasing him, of his annoyance that I have not made him cum yet. Oh yes, I have surely pissed him off. Because this is not really a play session. It’s a one-sided taking. A powerplay.

Next he places me in the armchair face first. I’m blindfolded, gagged and strapped down with legs spread apart, placed on the arms of the chair. I can barely move. I’m fully exposed. My muscles start to burn and NOW I start to awaken. I glance down at the floor and see his implements waiting. This thrills me. Pain is coming. Can I trust him? Yes. Although gagged and blindfolded I nuzzle my face into his crotch in gratitude for what I know is about to unfold.

Excitement builds the way it does before a show at the theatre. I can’t see. I know he’s there somewhere. I sense him looking at me.

Please Sir, my mind pleads.

And then it lands. The first flash of the flail across my bum. It tickles more than anything. I wish he’d go harder. He does marginally. Then he lands a few on my labia. Ouch! And a second time. I retrieve a little of my rebel side and wiggle my ass at him provocatively. I get slapped as a result. The burn is magnificent. He has further ideas he wants to pursue. Coldness and wetness press against my dark rose; a butt plug I assume since I noticed one in his collection. He pushes it in and suddenly I register the pain I’m in everywhere. The plug hurts. The ball gag is pinching and cutting my mouth. I can taste blood. My legs are screaming with pain at being spread so widely apart. There are ways to deal with pain though in situations like this. You welcome it. Accept it as a friend. Relax your mind, your body and breathe. This helps and the pleasure takes over again if you’re lucky.

He kisses my back and tongues my grateful clit. I visualise it with great acuity. His throat is extended, peppered in jet black stubble, his lips tasting me, sliding over my slippery pinkness. There is a great deal of wetness now. He removes the plug and uses this to lube me before pressing inside my heated relatively inexperienced backdoor. It’s only the tip at first. I am appreciative. It hurts. I remember my research and relax, pushing a little with my muscles. He slides a little further. The pain decreases. I want to do this for him.

There is little sound from him. He’s concentrating I think and watching his forward progress as he infiltrates my body. He sallies forth again, and then again, jousting my ass with his beautiful pole. Once he is all the way in, I feel overwhelmed with pleasure. Could I cum like this? I think perhaps I could.

Him fucking me in this way is indescribable. I forgive him now for his boorish ways. If he’d really been angry with me, he could have made this hell. He’s not. His hands are massaging me as he thrusts deeply. I’ve never enjoyed this with anyone until now.

I’m untied eventually and carried manfully over to the sofa by this annoying yet strangely alluring alpha male. My limbs are boneless. He knows this I believe. He positions me and I submit. I want this. I want whatever is next. Apparently that is me on all fours. My knees burn but that’s overshadowed by the ecstasy in my cunt. He’s grunting in a way that pleases me greatly. He requests I turn around and look at him. I comply, moaning and breathless. Strong hands cup and squeeze my breasts – another compliment – this man gives them rarely. My pussy convulses and I fall over the edge, my insides gripping him and creaming all over his cock.

Still he is displeased.

‘You’ve not made me cum yet,’ he says, for what must be the tenth time. Just like that, my lust withers like an autumn leaf and I go back to being just a thing. Here to pleasure him and nothing else.

In my head, the Domme sneers and hurls insults at him. The sub in me says, let’s get this over with. So I do. But I know which one I’d rather be…

And he doesn’t get to decide.

I do.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/t4x3et/bad_girl_switch