Our Sunday Morning Switch

Dear Mistress,

As part of our contract, we agreed that on Sunday mornings I could switch roles with you: be the master and use whatever comes into my imagination to make you submit and “suffer” at my diabolical hands. The Sunday Switch has been an interesting experiment, and with a little outside inspiration I believe we have come onto something about your own need, every now and then, to abandon all of that corporate suited control you have to exercise during the week, whether with your clients, or in managing your sometimes recalcitrant slave.

While you have left the mercurial E to stew in his own navel gazing, he did get you intrigued by the notion of a good spanking to enhance your surrender. It’s something we have dabbled in over the years. I used a hairbrush on your bottom years ago in D.C.. We were concerned about how long the red marks would last.

After the cathartic sex of Saturday night, I was not sure how well the switch would work Sunday morning. You and I had both discharged a great deal of sexual energy, and the remnants were strewn around the bedroom Sunday morning. It took us a while to find that other black boot, and your crumpled black tights, still reeking of your arousal.

We read the paper a bit and then I pulled out the red leather cuffs and locked them on your wrists. They were then linked together and I tied them off at the top of the bed, your bottom raised for me with a pillow under your pelvis. You were well positioned for my open palm, and your butt was already doing that involuntary squirm.

At first, you always feign a bit of amusement and indifference when I restrain you like this. Of course, you know you are still the mistress, and I am still the slave. But what I have found is that if I prolong the session and ladle on a sufficient degree of discomfort, and maybe a little fantasy tied in, it takes you to that precious sub-space you need to abandon control for just a while. Doesn’t it?

This morning I used a tie to blindfold you, hoping that it would help you suspend your maintenance of the mistress persona a little more easily. A nice trick that seemed to help get you there more quickly.

I was already hard for you that a.m., after doing my writing assignment on the night before. So it took some discipline of my own to get on with your spanking. I buried my face in your exposed, squirmy butt for a while, reveling in your taste and texture. But I had a mission, and soon I was sitting next to you, applying a firm hand in a way that made you jerk and moan a bit with each blow.

Of course, I intermittently slid my hands between your legs, confirming my suspicion that you were soaking that pillow you were grinding against.

After About 20 minutes, and as your bottom took on a nice red glow, I pulled the covers over you and announced I was going downstairs to make some coffee. I gave you an assignment: to imagine three things that you would like E to do to you. As I left the room, I saw you relax into the bed, your bottom still writhing. I spared you the vibrator I would normally use during these “breaks”, assuming that you were so far along that you would take advantage and come while I was out of the room.

I returned about 10 minutes later , steaming coffee cup in hand, and I pulled back the covers. Your bottom was still red. And I gave it a few more hard spanks with my palm to remind you of my control before picking up the hairbrush that E had promised to use on you. I told you we were switching to the brush for a while, and asked you to recite each of the scenarios I had asked you to imagine.

As you recited them, I applied the brush firmly to your bottom. The scenarios you came up with (between gasps and moans) were as follows, recorded here to remind you:

1. He pulls you forcefully over his knee, hands in your hair, yanks up your dress, pulls down your panties, and spanks you hard until you are sobbing. When his hand slides between your legs, you are forced to call him “Sir”, and beg him for the right to come. And you do.
2. He ties you to the bed, hands over your head, and forces you to suck his cock. You told me how much you enjoyed its taste and how hard it was in your imagination.
3. After you suck him for a while he makes you beg him to fuck you. And you do, and he does. You used a wonderful adjective to describe how that felt when he finally entered you. Can’t recall now. But it was a mindblower in your mind.

As we talked through these scenes, I applied the hairbrush. Your bottom squirmed harder, got even redder, and you jerked against the bed. I knew it was time to give you the mercy that you have always shown this slave.

Still using the brush with my right hand, I applied some of our lubricant to a finger on my left hand and slid it deep into your lovely, writhing ass. You let out a little gasp, and I could feel you clenching my finger for dear life. I slid my little finger between your legs, barely reaching your clit, and began a gentle massage there, all the while applying the brush to your bottom. Within about 2 minutes you began a long desperate, shuddering orgasm which nearly took my breath away. It sent you into a convulsion of sobs and tears. I had helped you find that mental space where you gave up control. A matter of great satisfaction to your slave.

Of course, I was not just going to take a bow. I wanted my taste too. So I mounted you from behind and slowly slid my cock into you. Moving gently at first, I soon was pounding into you and you came one more time for me. Still sobbing.

Now it was time for gentleness, so I helped you turn over, still tied to the bed, and entered again that way, and after a while of some soft and gentle fucking It was me begging for permission and you generously granting it.

It seemed that within about 12 hours we had two of the most memorable sexual experiences of our 20 year collaboration. How is that? Certainly the imaginary, uber E gets an assist on this for helping us re-discover a side of your personality we had let go dormant. And we will continue to work that route in the months to come, with or without him.

I certainly support your decision to disengage for now. He cranked you up and left you alone as he wandered along his own path. Maybe he found Hunter’s torpedo? But my suggestion to you is that before he wandered away he planted some triggers in you mistress. Triggers that will make you yearn from time to time for a firm, unmerciful hand on your bottom. For complete and total surrender. For being pressed against a wall, hands roughly tied behind you, forced to your knees to suck a very hard cock. Or to be taken from behind, dress hiked up around your waist, panties torn away.

Maybe he “finds” you again, and uses those triggers himself. If it’s destined, as he claims, so be it. But for now, you and I will fully exploit those triggers as opportunity arises.