To Switch or Not to Switch?

Our colleagues in smutty blogging, SFP and Sin have been reflecting on whether a true Sub-stress can ever really Switch into a big bad Domme in their recent posts. But for this ancient Irish type, self-reflection and analysis is not a strong point.

All I can say is that in the Collins household there has been an evolution that can be traced back to our early, illicit love nest days, when wide ties and Mike Dukakis were top of mind, and Molly often found herself bound, teased and well fucked on that futon bed we picked up at Pier One. So what led us to these days when the Slave happily abides by the Contract, and Mistress gets it on virtually with her remote Master?

It’s complicated.

Let’s just say that, after some difficult years, Mistress feels more comfortable with her Slave on a very short leash. And it works quite nicely for me.

Then again, Mistress still has that sub side that M tends too quite nicely. It’s an itch that needs to be scratched on a regular basis. (Or at least wants to be).

And several weekends ago, when her quite impressive ass fucking had me in a sub trance that led me to pass up my switch privileges on a Sunday morning, Mistress got mighty pissy.

It became quite clear that she likes what I do to her on the day she turns the keys over to me. Maybe I am merely M’s handy dandy surrogate in her erotic imagination. But whatever it is, it works in a rather explosive way.

So cast Mistress Molly’s vote for the merits of switching.

And the proof, as they say, is in the pudding. And we made some nice pudding here in the Collins household SUnday morning. Which I expect is what many of you want to hear about in any event, rather than my semi-self-revelatory musings…..

I planted some seeds of doubt Saturday evening, as we cuddled in bed, Mistress still in a bit of a daze from her afternoon orgasm-fest with M, then with me.

“Maybe tomorrow’s switch day will be orgasm free for you, Mistress.”

“Huh? That’s not the way it works, Slave.”

“Oh really? …..you make me have abstinence days from time to time …. And M embargoed you a week or so ago. Why couldn’t I do that on my switch day….make you please me while you fast?”

“You wouldn’t …..”

But that look in her eye showed a little uncertainty.

Sunday morning, Mistress slept in a bit as I wrote the blog, caught up with the sub-sisters, and wallowed in world news. (When do you think Reverend Jones will get his own show on FOX?)

But around 8:30 I decided it was time to get Mistress moving.

She was still snoozing when I barged back into our bedroom, newspapers and laptop in hand. She seem a bit peeved to be woken, but time was wasting. We spent some time reading the paper before I began locking the red leather cuffs on Mistress’s wrists. And then it was time for her to read the blog as I used my tongue to moisten up those wanton, well groomed folds.

When she set the laptop aside, after suggesting I had been a little too hard on our Western Correspondent, I went to work.

By the time I was done, Mistress was nicely spread eagled out on her tummy, legs and arms spread wide and tightly secured. And her bottom was already wriggling in frustration.

She seemed surprised when I slid on top of her, my firm and hungry “every day cock” pressing into her. Not that she wasn’t already amply wet and receptive.

“What are you doing, Slave?”

“It seems I’m fucking you Mistress. From behind. Remember, we talked about you not being allowed to come today.”

She shook her head. And her ass. My sense was that she would have liked to dislodge my impertinent cock. But it was firmly planted.

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“We’ll see, Mistress.”

I took her that way for a while. And she seemed rather close to the edge as my hips moved in and out, side to side, frictioning her tender and wanton parts against the bed.

“Remember, Mistress, no coming…..”

I liked her little mew of frustration. She was coming around to the realization that I just might be serious.

But I did not press my luck much longer. Instead I rose up, and fed her my cock, letting her taste her delicious condiments smeared on my fleshy shish-ka-bob.

“Aren’t your juices tasty, Mistress?”

But her mouth seemed a little too full to give me a review.

Her next course came from the tip of our riding crop. I flexed it with my finger, letting it snap down on her bottom with a nice crisp slap.

“Ouch….. that hurts, Slave.”

She squirmed, but of course her bindings gave her little range of movement to avoid the caress of the crop, or the slaps of my open palm, that turned her bottom a nice cherry red after about 10 minutes or so.

That’s when I pulled out the Hitachi.

I slid it between her legs, just under her hips, and turned it on low.

It was amusing to watch her gyrations, striving to pull the throbbing bulb closer to the place where she wanted it, as I continued with my intermittent spanking and cropping.

But even a cruel Slave exercising his switch privileges has to feel a little mercy when he sees how desperate his Mistress is becoming.

I settled down next to her, took the Hitachi in hand, and guided it more firmly between those lovely thighs.

And her hips rose, writhed and tried to suck the churning device in and under to get maximum effect.

Soon I had Mistress begging….

“Please, can’t I come Slave? Please?”

I was moved.

“Yes, Mistress… if you can, go for it….”

But saying it doesn’t necessarily make it happen.

Bound spread eagled as she was, it was an impressive feat of dexterity for Mistress’s thighs and arms and hips to strain, flex and contort as she sought just the right angle where power tool and clit could converge in catalytic harmony.

“You’re driving me crazy, Slave.. You keep moving it. “

By now, Mistress’s body was covered with a sheen of perspiration that mingled with the sweetly pungent aroma of her lubricants. MMMMM.

“Just tell me where to put it Mistress….”

By now I was actually trying to help, her plight was …. almost …..heart rending.

But she was increasingly frantic, and frustrated. Pulling at her bonds, twisting her hips, but unable to close her thighs in the ultimate orgasmic hug of the diabolical Hitachi.

“Why don’t you just untie me and turn me over, Slave.”

I laughed.

“Well, you know that’s not going to happen…..I can always just turn it off and let you rest a while.”

“Oh, God, No…..”

Declining my offer of a little rest period, Mistress was back on task with renewed determination…. I could hear the wooden bed frame creaking from her exertions. She is a mighty one.

But finally, after more of that lovely and inspiring twisting and turning, Mistress found her promised land, moaning and locking her thighs as tightly as possible, then shuddering as wave after wave shook her.

I kept the Hitachi pressed against her, forcing another strong quake from her, until she was begging for me to stop.

“Turn it off Slave, please. I’m too sensitive now.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

By now Mistress was shaking with sobs, letting the aftershocks subside.



I cozied her, then slid on top, letting my cock gently ride into her from behind, moving slowly and steadily, as I licked the tears from her cheeks.

Yeah, I think Mistress would cast a vote for the occasional switch.

And either way, this Slave is happy to play along.

Mistress is Forced to Obey

With no surly teens at home and my switch day dawning, I felt an obligation to Mistress and you, dear readers to provide a “special” experience. If not exactly on the scope and scale of our “Naked Sunday” out West, I try in my humble way to make an impression on Mistress that we can both retrieve from memory at the right moment.

So as Mistress slept in, I was busy downstairs preparing a little trap for her.

When she finally woke, around 8 am, I brought up the morning papers. We lay in bed a bit catching up on the (not so much) fun times in River City. And after Mistress read our morning blog, I pulled out our bag of goodies and gadgets.

First came the red leather cuffs for her wrist, locked on, and then joined together with a seperate lock, instead of the steel fastener Mistress is used to making that connection.

“Why the lock, Slave?.”

“Because you are sometimes a little too eager to disconnect your hands yourself Mistress. Only the key can let you loose now.”

I let that sink in.

Then I said, “time for us to go downstairs now, Mistress.”

I helped her out of bed, then led her by the elbow, down the stairs, through our kitchen, to a threshold between the kitchen and family room.

Positioning her there, I lifted her arms.

It was then she noticed the firm hook I had screwed into the rough hewn woodwork that morning .

“Oh My, Slave…..”

Once I had her wrists fastened over the hook, Mistress was stretched and very vulnerable, up on her toes.

“Uhhh….. this could get uncomfortable, Slave.”

She really could not have wiggled loose, even if she had tried.

Delicious.

“Don’t worry Mistress, I won’t let you linger in agony there TOO long.”

But to make her a little more secure, I fastened her ankles together with another pair of leather cuffs.

And I wiggled a thick cushion under her feet, to give her a little more flexibility for her arms.

I did not want to cause her too much discomfort

Not TOO much.

I took her in my arms from behind, and let my hands wonder over her, sliding up her thighs, over her full breasts. Making her squirm back against me, as my mouth burrowed her into her neck, taking in the aroma of her long tresses.

Yum.

Then I broke away.

“Back in a moment, Mistress”

She was a tad annoyed.

“Where are you going, Slave!”

“I forgot a few things.”

I walked away, glancing back over my shoulder to watch her struggle a bit. She was going nowhere.

Lovely.

A few moments later I slid in stealthily behind her. Secreting one of my toys. And brandishing the riding crop for her to see.

But before I applied it to her bottom, there was a matter of those little black nipple vices.

Mistress had a little hissy fit when she saw them. In my hand

“No….not those damn things….are you kidding!”

“Shhh, Mistress. No point in arguing with the inevitable.”

She knew she was nicely fixed. And her arms were already feeling a little stretched out. This was a fix she could neither squirm away from , nor talk her way out of.

My trap had been sprung.

And despite continued verbal protests, Mistress passively submitted to this new twist in the plot.

Some ice from the nearby freezer helped cool and firm up her sprightly nipples.

With one hand I popped her left nipple through the aperture of the vice, then used the other hand to screw it down until her little bud was squeezed firmly and held tight.

“Oh shit…that hurts.”

But there were no tears. Mistress took her medicine stoically.

M would have been proud of his little Slave.

I repeated the process with the other nipple.

“OK, Mistress?”

“Yes….But my arms, Slave. They are starting to hurt.”

“Patience, Mistress…patience.”

I picked up the camera and snapped shots from various angles. I figured Mistress would enjoy perusing these shots later that evening. And that our readers would enjoy them as well.

Then I picked up the crop.

It was a pleasure to watch Mistress’s bottom squirm, side to side, while limited in its range of motion by the tension on her arms and the little vices swinging from her breasts.

I gave her about ten relatively mild strokes. Watching her bottom begin to glow with some nice red stripes.

But I was not going to let her hang there too long without some pleasure to add to the pain.

That’s when I picked up the Hitachi magic wand that I had plopped onto the couch behind her.

I pressed my body against her from behind one hand sliding along her flank, the other wielding the churning power tool, sliding it up between her legs to the sweet spot that undulated against it.

Mistress’s reward quickly came, as she writhed in my arms, stretching her arms even more to purchase the right point of contact that took her over the edge, then collapsing back against me, distributing her weight on her arms and against my chest and hips, head thrown back.

What a fine little subbie she had become, at least for a few moments on a Sunday morning.

But I did not want to hurt those lovely arms, so I helped them off the hook, then pulled her over to the nearby couch, onto my lap, bottom up.

“Hope those arms are OK, Mistress. But you did look very sexy up their”.

“I did, Slave?”, she said with a certain tone of pride.

Mistress does like her compliments.

I was slowly stroking her bottom with my hand, tracing the little red welts left behind by the crop, already beginning to fade.

Soon Mistress’s bottom was squirming to my touch.. Her manacled hands were stretched out in front of her. Her ankles were still linked. She was still very much in my control until I decided to release her.

And I wasn’t quite ready to set Mistress free. Not just yet.

Instead I began a nice firm spanking that soon had her crying out, and squirming all the more.

But this time the pain and pleasure would overlap.

Where I had settled her onto my lap was almost exactly where I had placed the Hitachi, so it was easy to grab it with my right hand, while continuing to spank with my left.

Mistress was more than happy to wiggle her thighs and hips a bit to accommodate the power tool as I slid it between the tops of her thighs and underneath her.

And it was amusing to watch her confused muscle response as she tried to absorb my spanks with her limited squirm range, even while her bottom and thigh muscles were flexing and relaxing in response to the “cruel” vibrations that her cunt was being forced to absorb.
She swiftly built herself of to one of those powerful cums that had her quaking, shaking and moaning with delight, her head buried in a pillow at the end of the couch. And for good measure I kept the Hitachi in play to squeeze yet another one out of it.

I like to hear her plead for me to stop when her plesure center is overwhelmed with stimulation.

I let her rest there for a moment, gently massaging her bottom and lower back. But I suspect she could feel my firm cock pressing up against her, still inside my shorts.

“Fuck me, Slave”, I heard her softly murmur into the pillow.

“Of course I will, Mistress. Let me help you up.”

I unfastened her ankles, but kept her cuff wrists together. (the key was upstairs, in any event).

I spread a fluffy pink blanket sitting nearby onto the carpeted floor, and took my prize then and there, as Mistress stretched her bound wrists overhead.

I liked her moan as my cock, hardened by deferred gratification, filled her.

Afterwards, as we lay there on the floor and I soothed her well used parts with my tongue, I offered a form of an apology.

“I hope I was not too cruel, Mistress.”

“No …Slave…. It was …. Pretty impressive….”

I always like to leave my Mistress with a good impression of my work.

Mistress Gets a Surprise

I know. Last week I reported that I seemed more inclined to “stay in my lane” and not exercise my switch privileges now that Mistress has a Dom to visit.

But yesterday was different. Was the change in location (our Florida “granny flat” …err … loft) or the fact that Mistress had not been able to work her Dom into her busy schedule last week?

Whatever it was, I woke feeling frisky, if a little stiff from a day of yard work and biking.

So when Mistress indicated that she was awake and ready for attention, I mounted the stairs with the only restraining tool I could find: the belt from a pink terry bathrobe we had conveniently left behind.

First Mistress read the entry I had written on her deforestation project the afternoon before. Then I revealed my plans, and ordered her to surrender her lovely hands for restraint. Soon she was tied securely to the bedpost, arms extended over her head.

“What are you up to, Slave?”

“It’s been a while since you had a good spanking, Mistress.”

She seemed to shiver with delight.

“I suppose you’re right.”

So far, her new Dom has only spanked her once, for her failure to leave that little landing strip of fur he had directed, when she got that original waxing. He’s gone pretty easy on her, now that I think of it. Taking the training slow. Probably because he’s so anxious to fuck her when she alights on his door step. But I am getting off message here…..

Mistress was now well positioned, on her tummy, a pillow propped under her hips. I gently stroked and kissed that bottom, all clean and smooth and soft, yet firm from all that cycling. Lovely.

Then I surprised her with the first firm smack. Almost immediately Mistress began to squirm and moan. And not from the pain of it. A spanking seems to bring out her inner subbie slut very quickly.

“It was all that sexy talk last fall with your friend E that got you into this spanking thing, wasn’t it Mistress?” (Go about to our fall entries to find out about the enigmatic E, the old college lover Mistress reconnected with in cyberland last fall, after she got the contractual right to take other lovers).

“Well you used to spank me, Slave.”

True, it was years ago, when Mick and Molly were married elsewhere, before marriage and babies. Or was it babies and marriage?

I applied a few more thwacks with my palm. Her ass was starting to glow. And she was very wet, as my fingers confirmed during a little break from her “punishment”.

“I remember. And you liked it then, didn’t you Mistress?”

“I did Slave. You got too soft on me….”

Thwack. I needed to remind her of her temporary status as my prisoner.

“I guess once we had the girls, I was a little timid in that respect. Maybe a bit too respectful of your status as a Mom?”

“Could be Slave.”

“But then, when your friend E threatened to spank you…”

Thwack.

“That hurt, Slave.”

My fingers probed. She squirmed, moaned.

“Then why are you so wet, Mistress?”

Was it the E talk? Her mind probably was on all that talk of strict discipline and required obedience.

“I bet you’d still like him to spank you, Mistress?”

“Maybe, Slave.”

Doubtless.

Mistress’s bottom was rather red by now. I probably had given her enough. So I rose and grabbed my camera, and snapped a few shots of her lying there, at my “mercy”.

Then I excused myself.

“Back in a moment, Mistress.”

“Come back here, Slave!”

She was squirming and desperate. But I had a surprise for her. And it wasn’t a trip to Starbucks.

As I came back up the stairs I had with me a little toy I had secreted away in our bag. The power tool – our Hitachi Magic Wand. Mistress’s head was buried in a pillow. Her ass was undulating. She did not realize her divine fate until the machine began to hum.

“What is that …..oooooh.”

She figured it out as the little white bulb pressed between her legs and against her bottom.

“You tricked me, Slave.”

I slid the business end of the magic wand between Mistress’s legs, and her muscles clenched around it, showing her desperation to bring this little session to its natural conclusion.

But I was in no hurry. I pulled back a bit, enjoying Mistress’s frustrating little gyrations as she tried to purchase the type of firm contact with her smooth and soaking cunt that would bring her the relief she needed. By now Mistress was humping the pillow between her hips, stretching back with her ass, and trying to grab the wand with those strong and sexy thighs. She was a woman possessed with need.

Just the way I like her.

But I am ultimately a pushover. A real Dom might have walked away for a bit, leaving her to marinate in her slutty needs. But I decided to give her what she wanted, sliding the tool deeper between her thighs.

Then it was Mistress going wild, clutching the tool between her legs, maybe afraid that I would change my mind. She ground at it, with fierce determination. Then she exploded against it, face red, tears and sobs flowing from her. One of those nuclear orgasms that make a Slave proud of his work.

I let her rest a bit, still on her tummy. I pressed against her, kissing away the tears, letting my hard cock slide against her soft, red rump.

Then it was my turn, sliding into her from behind. Someone else would not be denied.

At Last

Dear Mistress,

Both of us seemed to be paying the price on Sunday for a little too much holiday spirits on Saturday evening.

Of course, my biggest problem was not enough sleep. As recounted in yesterday’s correspondence, I was left semi-hard and longing all night, still in that damned cock ring, after you elected to crash at the end of an evening when my fires had been stoked so intensively. Of course, that was a Mistress’s prerogative.

So I did not wait long to come upstairs on Sunday morning, after I heard you up and about. It was my switch day, and I was anxious to take my prize. I knew that you were too groggy for any play that might be especially elaborate. And, quite frankly, I was too much in need of release to take the time for the type of long, toying conquest that I like to devise when it’s my weekly turn. So I elected to take you quickly, in a more conventional way.

As has become our routine, you read over my posting - the one on our blog with the photos - as I used my lips and tongue on your ripe cunt, buried under the covers.

I could hear you laugh at my words of desperation as I enjoyed the taste of the juices that I had been longing for all that sleepless night. And once you put the computer down it was not long before you came.

Next was my turn, and I slid into you with a sigh of satisfaction. Then took my time to savor what I had missed the night before, holding your arms above your head until we both came one more time.

It was still early and we faded into a bit of sleep, trying to shed the lethargy brought on by our late night.

We had originally discussed delaying our “switch” scene until the afternoon, but it became apparent that my cock had only been partly satisfied, as it had grown somewhat rigid simply pressed against your bottom as we tried to go back to sleep.

After some consultation, we decided to go for it. Maybe you were hoping that a few more orgasms would clear your head. But Mistress does not easily surrender command (at least not to this Slave), so the limit you placed was “just don’t make me get out of bed”.

I can work with that, and knew that your limits were set at a lower bar that morning.

I locked on the red cuffs, and affixed them together, in front, and then to the little eye screw I had placed at the top of the bed. I secured your ankles close together with those black leather restraints, then made you roll over onto your stomach. I began with a slow massage of your back and neck, before proceeding to your bottom, which wiggled to my touch.

As I helped you relax and give up control, I talked a bit about the emails you had received Saturday night from the would-be Dom. He suggested that you quickly get through the Q/A phase so that your training could begin. I wondered what sort of training he had in mind, speculating that it might be psychological conditioning, planting little triggers about how you should address him, the way he would condition you to respond to his voice commands, etc. This all seemed to arouse, you, Mistress.

Then I proceeded to a slow but extended spanking. Nothing too cruel. Not like last Sunday when I tested your bottom’s limits. Just enough to let you contemplate submission, if not to me, than to that hypothetical needle in the haystack who could find and press all your dark, needy sub side buttons. And of course, the spanks were interrupted from time to time to allow my hand to explore your soaking cunt. You do like these little sessions, don’t you, Mistress?

When I felt you were in the right frame of mind, and got out our new “power tool”, the magic wand. It is a bit loud and over the top, but it seems to get you where you like to be.

I particularly enjoy teasing you with it. So after applying it to neck, lower back, and bottom, to help relieve the tensions built by your spanking, I slid it between your cheeks and enjoyed the way the indirect vibrations applied to your most sensitive parts made your hips pump slowly, then harder and harder into the bed.