Switching is such sweet sorrow.

[Banquo]

The back garden seemed like an oasis, a harbour from the rough seas of the raw emotions that had swept over her last night. Sitting gingerly on the back step in nothing but a long hoody, and a pair of knee high socks, the crisp air seemed to amplify the crackle and hiss that all but roared from the cigarette she was dragging on. God she needed that.

The previous night had been a raucous on rush of wild passion and sex, yet still she had been denied the release that her body was crying out for. She exhaled for what seemed like an eternity. The smoke, clear against the harsh beauty of the morning. Resting her head against the rough cold stonework of the cottage, she closed her eyes as her mind cruelly flashed back to last night. She could almost feel his coarse hands on her skin, her body taught and stretched, covered with a sheen of sweat that glistened in the candle light as he held them above her nipples, letting the wax pool under the flame before it overflowed and dripped down on her skin.

Opening her eyes the cold reality of the morning crashed over her like a wave, she ran her hand around her wrists almost missing the cuffs that had been ever present last night.
Coffee, she needed coffee, sliding open the back door and she flicked the kettle on and waited for it to boil, leaning up against the counter she winced, being reminded of the treatment her pert little butt has received last night. She wasn’t used to any of this, sure she was used to dishing it out, but not receiving. Why had she agreed to this? Why had she switched?

As she poured the boiling water over the granulated coffee that wonderful smell hit her. It was like flicking a switch, and her body and mind were already starting to come back to life. No milk, no sugar, just coffee. It was all she needed. Sitting at the kitchen table, she now started thinking about what she had let herself in for. Of the three years they had been together, the last two she had been the one wearing the trousers so to speak. After twelve months of awkward fumbling they eventually figured out that they were both considerably kinkier than either had cared to admit, at least to each other. A dynamic had built up, and slowly they had descended into a world of bondage, domination, and denial. She had barely let him cum since then. Perhaps once a month at best, sometimes making him wait until birthdays or Christmas, or whatever event she deemed pertinent enough to allow him release. She had relished in the cruelty, and enjoyed his whimper and moans whenever she had forced him to get soft before locking him up. Another sip of coffee and her mind peeled back the layers of sand and sleep to reveal another truth. She had been so cruel to him, and so so strict, and he had loved it. Was he now going to get revenge? Was she going to love it? She squirmed in the chair, he pussy crying out to be touched at that very thought, of him wielding his control over her. Maybe she wanted him to get revenge. She bit her lip and let out a moan, before hurriedly taking another sip of coffee. God what had she done. Another memory flashed into her mind, tied to the bed, her body aching for release, her back arching as the edge hit her, whimpers and moans floating from her lips as her forced her to hold back the orgasm.

“please……..”

Opening her eyes she composed herself and took another sip, how had he become so good at this so quickly, it was only 24 hours ago that he was utterly submissive and locked in his tiny little chastity belt. He couldn’t even get hard, and she had him wearing a pair of my little pony panties for god sake. And now this…

Closing her eyes again she was back on the bed last night, back to the edge. His lips had pressed to her ear, soft and wet, god that had felt so good. He whispered “no” and then kissed her ear again.

Birdsong from the garden woke her from the memory and she gulped down the final dregs of her coffee. A robin sat on the windowsill and seemed to gaze in at her, as if he could see into her mind. She put her coffee cup down with a clunk, and the startled robin fluttered away.
How had he switched and changed mindsets so quickly…how had she?
Her pussy cried out to be touched again. She shook her head, as if telling herself no, she needed permission now. God, she needed permission, to touch herself, that made her want it even more. She stood up and walked to the bottom of the stairs, looking up onto the dark landing, she wasn’t sure whether to go and wake him, or to wait for him to come down. She played it over and over in her mind, until suddenly it was all clear.

Pulling the hoody over her head, she folded it and placed it to one side, before kneeling carefully at the bottom of the stairs. She closed her eyes and relived her night of submission in her head, waiting for her Master to come.

[DellaRoss]

*Smiles* it is good to see you writing again Ban, it has been too long. Also very glad that this is not about us since Milo knows far too much about our personal lifer as it is