Squidgy Switch

He's already hard by the enticing mix of excitement and humiliation. He wishes he wasn't into this. He should be more dominant, like his mates, naturally agreeing when they all meet up for beer at the pub and boast about fucking cute women He should be into having control of his woman. He should't need to try to sound and look convincing when he smiles and nods in agreement. Hiding behind drinking his beer. He wishes he were an alpha male in the bedroom. But, he wasn't. He isn't. No, in reality, he's just a shy, desperate, needy guy who loves vulnerability and shame a little too much...

Having waited on Mommy to come home for what must be nearly 15 minutes, a pool of precum is starting to form on the floor beneath him. The thoughts of when and what she's going to do to him when she finds him like this, has left his mind on the brink of spiraling. Is she going to be proud? Will she tell him that she's proud of him? Will she praise him? With that soft tone in her voice? Or will she be more stoic? A neutral commanding voice? After all, this isn't a suprise. This is expected of him. Maybe she will laugh? Over him handing over all the power so easily. Or laugh because she knows how eager he is to look and feel pathetic. Anticipation. The anticipation feels almost as intensly physical as her touch. Almost.

However, going through all the potential scenarios in his head did nothing to prepare him for the overwhelming feeling of his insides, and the twitch in his now pink cock, when he heard her open the door behind him. Hearing only one footstep, abruptly stopping in it's tracks, she was clearly taking in the sight of him from the doorway. For what seemed like an etenrity, he heard nothing. No footsteps, no voice, nothing. What was she seeing? What whas she looking at? How did he look? What was she thinking of him? After what in reality probably just had been around 15 seconds, he heard one sharp exhale of breath through her nose. Then movement. In silence, staring into the corner of the walls, he could hear her heels against the floor, slowly walking from across the room behind him, towards him, and all his shame and wishes of being a dominant alpha male vanished from his mind. What he wished now was to see her.

What heels was she wearing? Her black office heals? Her velvet teal heels that she wore to that garden party? Her silk emerald heals she wore to their friends wedding? Her black fishnet heels she wore when they'd been visiting the museeum? And were they matching her outfit? Was she still wearing her office suit? Or did she wear the pencil skirt and blouse today? He couldn't remember. Maybe she had changed to her ripped jeans and a top? She had so many sets of lace lingerie in so many different colors, that in an attempt to imagine them all as potential candidates made his head dizzy. He didn't know what he hoped for - for her to still be in her clothes, or in her underwear. Yeah now, more than anything, he just wished to see her. What would be the consequences if he just turned around, keeping his position, just facing her instead? Or even just slightly tilting his neck a few centimeters down to the right, shifting his gaze from the corner trying to sneak a peak of her in his peripheral vision?

No, he was't going to do that. He was't going to test her. Not tonight. He was going to be a good boy. Her good boy. After a long, horrible day, he needed just that. Needed to feel that he was that for her. So when she spoke, her words hit him like a laser beam. She let out a short, humorless laugh. Without being able to read her face, it sounded more affectionate than condescending, but he wasn't sure. Then she spoke. His first guess was right. She had that soft tone in her voice - from what he guessed was a mix of entertainement, encouragement and satisfaction, and his heart fluttered from feeling proud of himself. She approved.

"Aww, look at you. Waiting for me in the corner like a good boy. You look beautiful, baby. And I bet, that when I get close enough to look over your shoulder, I'm going to see that beautiful little cock of yours straining to peak back at me." She gave another short laugh, lighter this time, before continuing:

"I hope you're ready for me, baby. Mommy's been thinking all day of how she's going to play with you when she got home. And here you are, already proving how you deserve it." She reached him then, slowly squatting down to stroke his back, trailing her hands over his back muscles, and down his arms hanging by his sides. Her touch felt gentle and warm. So light and soft against his skin it almost tickled. Letting her forhead rest against his temple, she whispered into his ear:

"If you continue to be a good boy, I will play with you all night. Doesn't that sound nice?" All he could do was nod, his mouth too dry to speak. If he could talk, his voice would probably crack anyways, so he was glad she accepted his response.

"Yeah, I know you'd like that. Naughty boy." That's apparently when she let her gaze drop down in front of him, by the sound of her sharp intake of breath. An entertained gasp.

"Oh baby, not only is your pretty pink cock hard, it's leaking! God, you're so excited, aren't you? Getting all worked up while waiting for Mommy like this? Very naugthy." He could feel his blush burning in his face. She was right. He was so worked up all he could do was nod again, taking all he had to not cry from the desperation boiling in him. With soft lips, she kissed the spot beneath his ear. The spot that always felt so intimate and good when she kissed him there, but ended too quickly when she pulled her lips to his ear again and whispered "cute" before standing up.

He wanted to groan at the sudden lack of contact between them. The space between their body felt voilent, even though it was not more that a few inches. He felt and heard her movement as she slowly started to walk back and forth behind him. The sound of her heels against the floor boards, back and forth, were controlled. Almost intimidating. Having still not looked away from the corner wall in front of him and the floor directly beneath him, he could feel the aura in the room shift. Shifting away from her soft energy, demanding the air around them to reshape itself to the effortless authority she held so naturally. Like the laser beam had expanded to an electric field between them, swallowing him whole where he sat. His body tensed up. Muscles and cock tensing even more by the all too familiar anticipation. When she finally spoke again, it was not completly devoid of affection, but it was certanly more commanding. More stern.

"But before we begin, baby, we need to set the ground rules. Again. You've broken them before, you know, and we can't have that. Not tonight. Not ever. You're going to be a good boy for me tonight, understood?" She didn't wait for his reply.

"Firstly: I'm your Mommy. You're going to adress me as Mommy. I know this isn't usually a problem, but you have slipped up before, and I won't have it. It's Mommy to you, or you'll get punished.

Secondly: Remember your manners. Good boys say "please" when they ask for things, and "thank you Mommy" when they get it. Not just for things they ask for, but also for things that feel good. And if I decide you deserve punishment, you thank me for that too when I'm done with you. Discipline is care, remember?

Third: You don't move, touch, grind, hump or cum without my permission. You may ask, but just because you're cute or desperate or crying doesn't give you any liberties.

Fourth: You tell me when you're close, when you're about to cum, and when you're cumming. Mommy wants to hear it. If you fail to do this, you will get punished hard. I don't care if it happened too fast or you didn't have time. And if I ever stop, pull away or ruin you, I won't hear any complains. You're just lucky I make you feel good, isn't that right?

Fifth: A good boy always cleans up his mess. You want to be my good boy, you clean up your cum with you mouth. That will always give you a free pass to kiss me. Before that you may ask for my kisses or you get them whenever ever I want to.

Finally, and most importantly: The safeword is as always "budget". I need to trust that you'll use it whenever you feel the need to or want to. This is the only scenario you may go against my wishes. No consequences. Otherwise, my word is law.

Got it?"

His mind was spinning. Not by the rules, he knew them better than the short password on his computer he used several times a day. No, his mind was spinning by the tone in her voice. By what she might have in store for him. By what would happen next.

"Are we clear?" He hurried to nod, eager to start following her instructions, to start pleasing her, to be a good boy. But nodding didn't cut it this time.

"Am I making myself clear, baby?" Her voice harsher this time. His own was a breathy, shaky whisper as he tried to scramble together a coherent sentence:

"Yes, Mommy, clear, your word is law, I'll do as you say.. please.. I'll behave.. please.." He did not know what in particular he was begging for at this point. Just anything.

That made her voice go a little softer: "Good. Now you can continue proving yourself by cleaning up that pool of precum under you. Lick it all up and you get to turn around for me."

As he heard her slowly sit down at the divan behind them, he shuffled backwards on his knees a few steps behind him, bent over with his head down to the floor and reached out his tongue.