Started as a Bottom Now I'm Here

Art by Yang Se Eun (Zipcy) from My Modern Met

With plans only to tease, delight, and explore, I took Mr. W over my lap on Saturday night. I was on the bed, propped up with pillows behind me. He lay across my legs, head on my left, bottom directly before me, bare cock pressed to the tops of my thighs.

I ran my left hand up and down his back, taking moments to massage the areas I know are always most sore, while massaging his glutes with my right. Despite knowing he wanted all my attention on his bottom, I took breaks to reach over with both hands to knead his shoulders and run my knuckles alongside his spine, gently pressing out the tightness and discomfort of a long day working at the computer. His back needed the attention as much as his butt and I was taking care of him, whether he liked it or not.

Eventually, though, I couldn't resist the sweet little globes he was presenting to me and I began to playfully tap his cheeks with a series of tiny little smacks to each side. Three in a row, taptaptap! Each side would get a few rounds of those, then rubs. Four in a row, tap-tap-taptap! A couple rounds, and more rubs and loves. All the way up to rounds of six little spanks to each cheek.

The playful smacks weren't even enough to turn him pink but he'd done well, keeping his bottom up and centered, letting me explore without wiggling, letting me smack him at all -

- after all, am I not usually the bottom in all this? Isn't it usually my butt getting the spanks, and much harder ones at that? Dear Reader, you are not alone in your surprise and possible wonderment at this scene as it plays out (unless you read Rosy Reset Button the other day, in which case you might have guessed round two was coming).

We are exploring different roles in our play. I am exploring the idea of femdom, especially "gentle femdom," (#gdf)  which I will write more about as I work through countless new feelings and fantasies. I am going through a sexual Renaissance of a sort. Everything is new and exciting and I suddenly really want to spank Mr. W, to enjoy him worshiping me and my body, and to honor him equally but in a new power relationship during sex play.

Since he'd done so well with the initial playful smacks, I wanted to give him a reward. I began to massage that most sensitive spot between his cheeks, rubbing tiny circles to coax the the tight wrinkly hole open. I leaned forward and kissed the top of his crack sloppily, letting a pool of saliva gather, then rubbing it down the length of the crack and using it to lubricate just the tip of my index finger.

As I pressed against the spot, he moaned and arched, letting me in. A careful visitor, I continued to circle and tease him, allowing his body to take me in rather than force my way, and soon he'd taken the full length of the finger inside his body. With  my left hand squeezing his ass cheeks, I slowly and gently allowed the finger to continue the massage from the inside.

After a short time, I pulled out and asked him if he was ready for me to spank him again. "Are you ready for more spanking?" I asked. "You can earn another round of those touches."

"Yes please," he answered from his throat, his voice deep, barely audible, evidently lustful.

"A little harder this time?"

"Yes please," he said again.

I didn't want to just go at it and make him hurt. I  wanted to build up a nice, warm, buzzy sensation. I began with single smacks to the curve of the bottom of each cheek, upward strokes allowing my palm to land right in that sweet spot then glide in a quick light glide over the rest of his ass. Smack and feathery tease. Back and forth I spanked, building a little warmth, a little pink, and when my hand began to feel a little warm too I rubbed his bottom vigorously. "Well done, well done," I whispered.

After I few moments to assure any sting remaining from the skin-to-skin contact had abated, I returned to the rhythm, smacking a fraction harder and leaving out the feathery touches. It wasn't hard, but in that moment I was spanking him and it felt incredible. He was under my power and he was trembling with pleasure. Endorphins and dopamine flowed. Back and forth, my hand found its happy home again and again. I found myself fantasizing about moving to a chair and taking him back over my lap, small paddle in hand, to continue the spanking and take him to the next sensory level.

Once again, when the light sting of his flesh against my palm signaled that he had warmed satisfactorily, I ceased spanking and rubbed, massaged, and kissed the whole - and the hole - of his backside. Salivating against the now not-so-tight little button, I murmured with my mouth full, "Ready?" Soon I had him gently but nonetheless impaled again on my index finger, sliding it in easily, crooking the tip of my finger to massage his prostate. "That's it," I whispered, encouraging him to melt into me loving him. "That's it, you beautiful man."

I was so ready for him to be inside me, but this time was for him. I made no move to change things up, but soon he indicated he was ready to change positions. As much as I wanted to keep playing with his ass, I hoped he was ready to fuck.

If you did read Rosy Reset Button, you'll know that this is my second time this past week attempting to allow myself to be "in charge" while giving Mr. W sensual attention. I may be exploring the idea of femdom, but I'm starting with just putting the focus on him, the same way he puts the focus on me when he is spanking and dominating me, and also giving myself permission to guide the scene. In Rosy Reset Button, we hadn't set the nature of our playtime first so he didn't realize that I was viewing myself as in charge. This time, I had thought the parameters were in place just by the act of what we'd been doing, but our usual personas showed up and created some awkward confusion.

I like to share even the sexy scenes that go awry because we are all human, and sometimes things go wrong when we're naked. It doesn't mean WE are wrong, or bad, or failures. It's easy to attach shame to our self-view when we don't get sex right, but the truth is, really great sex is a little bit lucky timing, a little skill, and an absolute ton of self knowledge. We can learn about ourselves and our partners by practicing, and what better activity to have to practice than sex?

As he got up, he leaned forward and kissed me between the legs. It seemed exactly the right act for him to fall into next and I opened my legs for further pussy-licking attention. At the same time, he realized just how dripping wet I was. A wet spot had formed where I'd been sitting with him over my lap. A large, wet, ready for it right now wet spot. My juices, before he went down to kiss me, had webbed my thighs.

"Young lady!" he admonished. He stopped kissing my clit and pulled back into a sitting position. Then he smacked that wet pussy! It was fucking hot. My pussy throbbed and it was probably a visible clench and release. He smacked it again, then again. It all happened very quickly and as soon as I was beyond aroused my brain kicked in. "Hey lady, weren't you in charge a moment ago?" My brain demanded explanation even as Mr. W began slapping the insides of my thighs.

I was so very wet at having spanked Mr. W, even lightly, even for play, and now all the control had been wrenched from my hands. The hands that had been powerful one moment were now pushed away from protecting my thighs. "How dare you get so wet, so aroused?" Mr. W, the character, wanted to know. I was his naughty little girl, the scene and relationship so familiar. Maybe he was my Daddy, punishing me for my lasciviousness. Maybe he was my Sir, in control of my body and I was aroused without permission. One thing I was NOT was a domme.

I burst into tears.

Crying after a spanking is pretty normal, and something I've done a gazillion times. Are you supposed to cry when you're the spanker though? And when you've barely done any spanking? I thought not.

I had thought myself the great protector and sexy sensual guide. Next thing you know, Mr. W has his arms tightly around me, he's leaned forward, his weight on my torso, his head on my shoulder, his breath as he pulls me close on my neck, my chin, my cheek, my ear. "I've got you," he whispered. As he always does when I need him, once I feel lost and unstable. "I've got you."

We talked then. I had a chance to explain that I'd been feeling really good and proud of myself, taking charge, trying something new with confidence, only to internalize the chastisement of the pussy and thigh slapping as a sign that me wanting to dominant him, even in play, was bad and a punishable offense. I felt tricked. I didn't feel that he had played me. It felt like the universe had teased me with strength and then took it all away.

"God no!" he answered. "You were so incredibly wet. Did you see this puddle?" He made me look at the spot soaked through the sheet. "You were that wet from touching and spanking me. It was so fucking hot. I just went for it." I was not in trouble with him or the universe after all.

We talked and laughed. We didn't get back to sex that night, favoring instead the connection we found emotionally and mentally afterward my tears. Mr. W has always been my top and switching to spanking and punishing me during sex was normal for him in that moment, so when he was turned on by how turned on I was, it just came naturally. Meanwhile, I'm trying something new and am learning that until it comes as second nature - as whipping my thighs and pussy does for Mr. W - I'm going to need to set up what I want for the scene ahead of time, which is advice I would give to anyone just exploring a new kink.

And in really fantastic news, now we know just how much spanking Mr. W seriously turns me on. Now I need to practice.