#dom switch

Anon, this is one of my favorite porn tropes 😭 Silver is suuuch an awkward dom, and barely into it at all. Yet, somehow, Malleus is enjoying himself so much? He doesn't get it, but Malleus is so reactive to his touch, his praise. He moans and really arches into it whenever Silver smacks him for his bratty disobedience <3 he doesn't like having this much power over Malleus, but as long as Malleus is pleased, then it's okay?

Silver's cowgirling, but it's at a very very slow pace. He's trying to focus on the roleplay (that he's not doing a great job at 😭) and it's taking all of his attention. He may as well not be moving at all. It's surprising that Malleus is so hard, and even more surprising when he cums... Silver's cock is still soft when he does!!

Malleus may enjoy Silver taking control from him and brat taming him more than he means to, but I think he likes teasing the boy and melting his brains out even more <33 Silver trying to end their session before getting so much a hard-on is unacceptable!

He'll pounce on Silver, slamming his back into the sheets, pinning him down with a snarl and unleashing his wayward tail... He looks so much like a beast, especially with the collar still around his neck. What a fool Silver would be, if he thought he could really take control over this monster!!

If Malleus isn't ready to pound into Silver's hole yet, he'll take his sweet time playing with Silver's neck, ears, nipples... He'll suck and bite, humiliating Silver for his silly attempts to take authority over his own master (which Malleus himself asked him to do...) it's all very confusing for the poor retainer, but he won't argue. Not when Malleus has his claws wrapped around his cock, tugging and squeezing Silver for all he's worth, milking a climax from him...

On a normal day, I am the assertive, dominant guy in bed and otherwise. Making her bend to my will, grabbing, spanking and having her my way. Even edging her till she begs. I get hard in a split second when I see an ass waiting to be taken. Grab her hair, yank her towards me and just fucking her brains out.

And then I see those two beautiful mounds, glistening and glorious, bouncing around almost in slow motion. I melt away, jaw drops and knees go weak. Turning that macho into a complete sub. I could just lay in her lap for hours admiring, suckling, licking, pinching and biting those beauties 🤤

Trying to please her, worship her and feeling those mammaries on my face and in my hands

The erection is even harder once I suckle those beauties 🤤

fun date idea for two switches rubbing the tip of your dick against my clit in pressure filled circles while teasing another first one to cum gets to sub for the rest of the night

Well, it happened. My beautiful dog-hter crossed the rainbow bridge early this morning. She was still warm when Fortitude found her, but unresponsive. She had only recently passed. He told me he had clicked his tongue to announce himself to her, and she usually responds by wagging her tail. It bumps gently on whatever surface is nearby... but there was no sound. She had dragged herself halfway into his closet before she collapsed.

I cradled her in my lap for about 30 minutes, feeling like she could perk her ears up and lift her head at any moment. Denial.

The vet had said 10 months. 10! Not one! Fortitude said maybe she could get through the holidays. We were supposed to do Christmas together. Bargaining.

What am I supposed to do now? Call the vet? Call my mom? Tell my friends? Tell the rental manager? Disorientation/ overwhelm.

But... Maybe I haven't reached the anger stage yet. Maybe it's part of myself that I've overcome, somewhat. At this point I kind of doubt it.

Makaria came by to let me say goodbye, and show Shayna off to Pan's personal realm where she could chase squirrels until I came for her. Thanatos came by with a Yorkshire terrier's soul for me to cuddle for awhile. Both of them have been so sweet to me.

Fortitude and I wrapped her body comfortably and placed her on the patio until we could take her to the vet. They printed her paws and nose and gave me a couple small clippings of her fur as a memento. They returned her collar... and she was gone.

The apartment manager was deeply sympathetic. He lives onsite with his little mutt, too. He's such a supportive character. My mom called to offer support in whatever way I needed. My bestie Cat cried all the way to work after I told her, and sent me a flood of pictures and videos from our last walk together. Fortitude held me and told me he had loved her too; another dog to win his heart.

It feels so empty. But strangely, it doesn't hurt like before. I was there with her for the whole thing. There wasn't a moment when she wasn't loved or supported.

And though Death plays no favorites... for awhile, it felt like even he was ready to be there to walk me through it all.

Even now, I'm blessed to have the insight of friends who have walked this road a thousand times. And I know they'll be there to hold my hand when it's my turn.

My dreams have been filled with obstacles, fighting rising water and precarious balances, like the squid games. And when it was over, there was a banquet. I was told I could get whatever I wanted, eat whatever I wanted, but I couldn't bring myself to eat. I stared at the table in front of me. All the power seemed to have gone to my legs; too focused on running, on fighting, on moving forward. My arms were so heavy I could barely lift my utensil.

In the morning, I sat at that same spot and a familiar presence joined me. He ordered something light from the kitchen for me; a creamy leek soup with croutons. At first he tried to encourage me to pick up the spoon, but it was heavy in my hand, and it took ages to make my fingers work. Then he sighed, picked up the spoon, and fed me a couple bites.

"You need to fight," he said.

He was right. Every step was a battle. Maintaining myself is a battle. Caring for my family is a battle. Every moment spent not dying is a battle to survive, and it's exhausting.

I picked up the spoon and held it for a bit. He took my arm and guided the soup to my lips. I ate in silence for a few minutes, his hand gripping my arm.

"Harder," I mumbled during a pause.

He made a noise in question.

"I need it to hurt to fight."

He was on his feet and dragging me along behind him quite before I knew what was happening. I looked back briefly, but the bowl was empty.

He pulled me through a portal and threw me the last few feet onto the soft black comforter of his bed. My feet weren't ready. I stumbled and fell, turned over on my back to see him crawling up on top of me.

He studied my eyes for a moment. Black, with a shimmer of blue. Blue like his mother's. "Phobetor?"

His usual stony stoicism had settled over his features. "This will hurt."

I nodded.

He bent down into my shoulder. I didn't see the rest, but I felt it... his teeth, hard and sharp, cutting into my skin. And I started fighting. No fear, just pain. I trusted him. I trusted him with my grief, my fatigue, and now my pain.

I dealt no serious blows. I never drew my weapon or produced my claws. But eventually I gained the upper hand and turned us over. I raised my fist and buried it deep in the pillow next to his head.