Switch Day in Two Movements

Movement One.

It came out during our chat with ‘Nilla this week.

Mistress missed our switch day last Sunday.

I guess I have mistakenly assumed that switch day was something in the contract that gave me a day off.

Stupid Slave.

As ‘Nilla reminded me, being a Domme is hard work. Mistress looks forward to it as much, maybe more, than I do.

It’s a day for her to let go, give up command, lay back and enjoy. And maybe suffer a little too.

So I resolved to make it up to her this week.

And M had said that she deserved a good spanking. I promised to he his trusty surrogate.

And as it turns out, Mistress got her lost switch day back, with interest.

Yesterday morning, after I did my writing, and Mistress lolled in bed, I woke her around 8:30 or so.  We read the bad news in our morning paper, focusing on the nastiness in DC, where some Fox News refugees were doing their darn-dest to turn the Dream of 1963 into their own Nightmare.

But after Mistress read the blog (and a few others too), I  snapped on the little red cuffs, rolled Mistress on to her tummy, and fixed them overhead to the little eyebolt  screwed into the head of our bed.

After that, I used some strips of an old soft beach towel to tie her legs, spread wide, to the corners of or bed.

The little slut was going no where.

Mistress knew she was due for a spanking.

Her flippant attitude was saying “bring it on.”

But I was in no rush. I want her nice and juicy before she got what was coming to her.

So out came the Hitachi. I slid it under her, thumbed it on.

Uhhh…..oh goody….nice, Slave.”

She was humping it, as I stood up.

Of course I knew that it was just short of where she could get the purchase she needed for the type of climax she was already craving.

So I stood up, grabbed my camera and snapped off a few shots of her little kinky dance, as her ass danced and squirmed straining at her bonds, trying to capture the vibrating head against her clit, but failing so delightfully.

Her body seemed to be glowing with the dew of her frustration when I sat down next to her on the bed and abruptly pulled the Hitachi away, switching it off.

“That’s so unfair, Slave…..”

“But I know what you really want is that spanking….don’t you think M would be disappointed if you did not get one this morning?”

She growled at me in frustration, but conceded, “I suppose he would, Slave.”

That’s when I gave her the first of many, many slaps to that steamy ass. From the left side of the bed. From the right side of the bed. In flurries. Or one at a time.

At one point I heard one of the surly teens stirring in the hallway, so I got up to turn up the music a few notches, just to mask the sound of the slapping as I landed blow after blow on her ass.

But something was wrong.

Mistress was not complaining. There were no moans, No begging for me to stop. She was taking it and taking it. She was a glutton for whatever pain I was inflicting.

I wondered if my hands were not hard enough, so I picked up the  long wooden shoe horn that makes me squirm and moan into a pillow when she uses it on me.

I landed a flurry of what should have been stinging slaps with that sucker. And Mistress took them like a walk on the beach.

Apparently she has a much higher threshold of pain on her delicious fleshy bottom than my scraggly one can endure.

I made a mental note that I needed to press the edge of the envelope on this one.

But by now Slave was getting a little hornier, and I was getting a little paranoid about what Surly Teen #2 might be thinking her parents were up to in there with the music so loud.

So without any begging for mercy from Mistress, I surrendered to her amazing ability to  take a spanking, took a quick photo of her reddened ass, and settled down next to her on the bed.

“You are quite the little pain slut, aren’t you, Mistress?”

I was rubbing her bottom, an errant finger dipping between her cheeks, testing the very wet and steamy waters.

“Mmmmm…. “  She wriggled in contentment, her channel sopping cunt swallowing  my finger like a venus fly trap devouring an unsuspecting spider.

I don’t think that was a denial.

I picked up the Hitachi, thumbed it on.

“Let’s see how you take this Mistress.”

I forced it between her legs, set at high.

Oh she liked it all right.

Her body was stretching every which way to find the right way to press that churning tool where she needed it to be. But with her legs spread and bound, she could not grip it the way her throbbing clit demanded.

But I was no longer playing the cruel Master. I did what I could to help her along, thrusting the tool up and under her, searching for that spot.

And the payoff was a devastating explosion of twisiting limbs, straining against the fabric and leather binding her tight, torqued to the max as she rose up, rolled left to right, sobbing against the rich blue sheets.

And of course the binding allowed me to keep the wand exactly where she didn’t want it to be even as she came down, hips bucking,,,,

“No, Slave…..no more.”

It’s what I had not heard as I spanked her.

So in my perverse pleasure of finally hearing those protests, I kept it up, forcing another one from her before finally withdrawing the tool.

She was shuddering,  moaning a bit, But she wasn’t done.

“Oh, God,,,, please fuck me now, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”