"Come here," I say. I haven't felt the urge to raise my voice; the soft whisper conveys authority, not the angry shout. She stands in front of me, tied and collared and turned on. I don't give a damn what the next part of my plan was. I have to have her. She becomes as optional as air. There is no way I'm not going to give the woman I love the pleasure she deserves. We're just an ordinary young couple with just one difference. We're both switches, we both quite happily dominate or submit as our moods take us. And it isn't the brutal, harsh, loveless domination either. Sure, I'll spank her ass until it's red raw, or even bleeding. But once I've dominated her all night, taken her to the edge of her safe word multiple times, I'll always kiss her good night after. I love her, I really do. We just love restraining each other and making each other submit to the other's desire. This is how the switch lifestyle works.
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