It’s late in the day, but it’s not any less wicked, I tell ya. NSFW in any way, shape or form, I give you.. The Switch. Keep in mind, totally unedited. This was my first stab at writing in the first person. Don’t be mean to me if I switched into third at random points. 🙂
When the door to my office closed, I looked up from my monitor in annoyance. When I saw that it was executive assistant Rosalind, my frown dissolved. Even though I already knew why she was here, I stalled for time.
“Is there something I can help you with, Rosalind?” I asked her. I suspected, from the way that she was chewing on her lower lip and eyeing me, that there was at least one thing I’d be helping her with tonight. When I made this arrangement with her, I didn’t expect her to take me up on it. We had been lovers for a few months. Both in the office and at home I had finite control. I was her Sir, and she was my pet. It pleased us both. Or so I’d thought.
One evening after a particularly satisfying session with the single tail, she’d been very quiet. When I asked her what was on her mind, she’d been quiet. Finally, I pulled my Dom card and made her tell me. She told me quietly, that while she enjoyed our sex life very much, she sometimes missed being in control. At the time, it had come as a shock, but I suppose looking back the signs had been there. I’d just been too enthralled with her to notice, to my shame. Like the Dom that I am, I started looking for solutions. I decided, so that the lines would never be crossed about who was in control, that she would only be able to control me in one place. The office. And so, I became a switch a little over a year ago.
“Charles,” she sighed, as she flipped the lock. “You know that’s not how you greet me, love.”
At the snap of her fingers, I moved from behind my desk, dropped to my knees and then knelt next to her. I rested my head against her thigh. As much as I had blanched at doing this for the first time, I had to admit that I had begun to enjoy our time together when we were like this. There was something so comforting about not having to be in control.
Even with my eyes downcast, I could tell that she was unbuttoning her blouse. It was a familiar sensation, the gentle movementsof her body. I closed my eyes and waited for her instruction.
“That little stunt that you pulled at lunch today. It didn’t go unnoticed by me,” she said as she let her blouse slip to the floor.
I picked it up and folded it neatly, a tiny smirk on my face. I’d purposefully brushed my hand against her nipple under the guise of getting my coat earlier in the day. It was inevitable that she’d be here now. She’d given me a look that promised retribution.
When I heard the zip of her skirt go down, my pulse raced. I knew that I wasn’t going to finish the marketing report I’d been working on any time soon. When she kicked the skirt off, I picked that up and awkwardly folded it as well.
“You may put those down,” she said.
From my knelt position, I leaned across her and set the clothing on the guest chair in front of my desk. I could smell her arousal already. my mouth watered. Eating pussy was one of my greatest joys. There was something about the way that Rosalind squirmed against my face that made it so gratifying.
When she walked to the couch and then said, “Turn to face me, Charles,” I turned, eager to see what she had planned.
She slid her panties down and kicked them off. I scrambled to get them. Picking them up off the ground, I felt the slippery wet material and groaned. I desperately wanted to bring them to my nose and inhale her scent. I didn’t though. Last time I’d paid dearly. She’d put a plug in my ass!
Instead I folded them and set the panties aside.
Rosalind draped her leg over the arm of the couch and said, “You were very bad today at lunch, getting me all hot in public like that. You know what your touch does to me.”
I bowed my head, though I wanted to absorb the stunning view of her pussy. Dutifully, I murmured, “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“You may look,” she relented.
I raised my head, my eyes zeroing in on her bare, wet cunt. I licked my lips, wondering if I’d be allowed to taste her.
She let her hand drift over her breasts. She played with her nipples, pinching and pulling them. She made soft little moaning noises that drove me mad.
When her hand eventually strayed down to her pussy, she traced her french manicured tips along her slit. She moaned, “Charles. I’m so wet.”
“May I please you, ma’am?” I asked, hopefully.
“You mean please YOU,” she accused. “I know how much you enjoy my pussy.”
“I do, ma’am,” I admitted.
“Very well,” she said. “You may please me.”
When I scrambled around to the couch, she stopped me inches from her beautiful cunt and then said, “You may please me by sitting there and watching me fuck myself with my fingers until I come. Then, you may lick my fingers clean.”
An almost inhuman moan ripped from my chest as I leaned back. This was going to be fucking brutal. I reached down subconciously and palmed my cock. She raised an eyebrow and said, “None of that. Sit there like the perfect little sub that you are. That’s it,” she praised, when I’d turned my palms up and placed them on my thighs. She was going to pay for this tonight when we got home. Dearly.
“On second though,” she said, perhaps reading my expression, she said, “You may stroke yourself.”
At her change of heart, I unzipped my pants and pulled out my straining cock.
“Stand for me, love,” she commanded.
I watched as her fingers dipped between her folds with a groan. Then I began to stroke myself.
“One more thing, Charles? You may not come.”
At my downtrodden expression she smiled and asked, “Did we not discuss that this was a punishment?”
Seeing my sullen nod, she kicked off her other heel and propped her foot up on the edge of the couch. She was spread out like a buffet before me and all I could do was jerk myself off. But of course, not to completion.
My hand glided as gently as possible over my cock. There was no way that I was going to last. Not right now, with her fingers buried in her slippery pussy. Not with her in that Domme voice telling me that I couldn’t come. That I wasn’t allowed.
“You can do better than that, Charles. I want to see you really stroke it. You know what that does to me,” she panted, her fingers rubbing furiously at her clit.
I groaned and gripped my cock more tightly, stroking as if my life depended on it. My balls were already beginning to tighten up. This was not good.
When she plunged her fingers into her pussy, I knew she was very close to coming herself. I could only hope I was able to hold on.
As her whimpers grew more loud, I felt my orgasm beckoning. I begged, “Please ma’am. May I come?”
She shuddered and moaned as if my pleas had sent her over the edge. She moaned, “I may come. You may not.”
I released my cock knowing that with just a little more attention, I would be shooting ribbons of come all over the place. I couldn’t remember the last time that my balls had ached this badly.
“Lick,” she commanded, holding out her slick fingers. Moaning, I took them into my mouth, licking every bit of her delicious cream that I could find.
When she traced a finger lightly over my swollen cock, I almost lost it.
“My poor baby,” she said as she pulled her fingers out of my mouth. “You may put that away.”
I put my cock away, though it was difficult with a throbbing erection. As she began to dress, that was a signal to me that our playtime was over.
I said, “This was cruel and unusual, darling. Don’t think you won’t pay for this later. I believe I’ll use the crop tonight.”
She shivered as she buttoned her blouse and said, “I’ll see you at home, then.”