I was reminded yesterday of a very particular moment in my last meeting with Miss Donna Hardy. Donna is very lovely, with short black hair, an “elfin” look that I find appealing and a slight sense of vulnerability about her. She’s a lot of fun to play with and I enjoy her company.
We were in a hotel room, and our session had, so far, been about sensual domination and spanking. Rather a lot of spanking. And flogging. I had put her up against a wall and flogged her back until it was warm and tinged a wonderful pink. She had turned her face sideways so she was looking into my eyes as I swung the whip, a challenge passing between us. The communication in those looks was hotter then the delicious fall of the flogger on her beautiful back.
Actually, now I think back, there was a leather strap involved too. Hmm. Perhaps “This session was about spanking” doesn’t do justice to what Donna had been through. Let’s go instead with: “This session had been about full-on impact play!”
We had taken a pause and were sipping champagne together when Donna decided to take the initiative herself. She walked up to me and, kissing me deeply, grabbed my nipples hard and pushed me back onto the bed. I wanted to resist; I was the Dom in this session after all, and she was way out of line as the sub here. So I pushed back, grabbing her nipples in return, wanting to reassert myself. I could see the pain of it in her eyes but she just swallowed it down and squeezed my nipples harder between her finger nails, digging in deep, hurting me.
She absolutely had me, the minx, and she bloody well knew it.
I relaxed, stretched my arms and legs out as if they were tied to the corners of the bed, and gave in to her and the waves of sensation she was causing. She bought me to a pain/pleasure orgasm of startling intensity that was still rippling through my body minutes later. It was wonderful.
A few days later she messaged:
“I noticed we seemed to have a bit of power play/battle of wits that evening”
Indeed we did, my kinky friend. You found the true nature of my switchy character. Whichever role I am occupying at any given moment, the other side of me is only just below the surface, ready to be brought to life by the smallest change of mood.
Girl On The Net described in this post what switching is to her, a power exchange that ebbs and flows between the partners, one on top until the other pushes back and takes control, only to have the positions reversed a few moments later.
Here’s a small but delicious extract:
BDSM switching, for me, is that moment when I release the cuffs – that instant flash and the transfer of power. Like a match – a game – knowing that the person who has the power won’t have it for long until they’re throwing it back to you. The glint in your eyes when you take it away from me, and the gutwrenching arousal when you pass it straight back
This whole idea is ridiculously hot to me and definitely something I want to explore further.
