The first time they switched was several months into their relationship. It was a novelty, and she suggested it as a fun game. Keeping things interesting, she said, not that they really needed help with that.

It was more awkward than it should have been. Her topping him had come so easily, in comparison. But finally, he got out that he might like to try spanking her, and as he waited for her to laugh at him, she surprisingly (to him) said that that would be a great thing to start with.

She also suggested that they start with dirty talk, so he could tell her exactly how hard he was going to spank her and why he ws going to enjoy it and how she would respond, etc.

He agreed, always a fan of that tension, that hitch in breath a woman got just from his whispered words in her ear. It took him a moment to realize that it might have been that his pre-scene talk was so nervous-awkward that she had just decided to let him put that information in the foreplay instead of dragging it out of him over beers.

They actually waited until the next night to try it, since he wanted to be completely sober.

He did his best toppy voice as he looked at her, sitting on his bed, leaning back and waiting. "Take your shirt off," he ordered, and his voice was low, even for his usual, and there was an edge there. It was good, him giving her an order and meaning it, it was working.

She slowly slid off her shirt without unbuttoning it. He took her bra off himself, and she submitted, loosening her limbs to comply with his hands as he maneuvered her. She stayed pliant as hesat and pulled her into his lap, and she remembered how much larger he was, something that was easy to not notice when he was the one complying with her every gesture.

He spoke in her ear, hot breath tickling, "I want to turn your ass red, you know that, I want you to writhe and squirm and not be able to get away until I turn your flesh pink and then bright bright red."

"Why?" she rasped.

He reached up to pinch her nipple and she winced at the pain. "I want you to think of me every time you sit for a week. I want to look at that ass a day from now and still see that I was there."

"You want to mark me as yours?" she said, mockery in her voice, but beneath that something else. Some kind of direction, he realized after a moment. He smiled against her neck. Leave it to her to top from the bottom during dirty talk.

"You are mine," he growled in her ear. "You are mine, and you are going to know it, you are going to feel it in your bones, sweetheart, and in every bright red mark I leave on you," he continued, and felt her body tense up in anticipation. Soon he moved her across his knee, bent over and ass raised to give him access, and his hand came down on her, swatting her again and again and again. It was just his hand, and he didn't hold back, used his strength to smack her ass red, and even though it got so bad she started struggling, she didn't use her safeword, so he held her tight and turned her ass into a swath of color until he could barely raise his arm. She screwed her eyes shut and willed herself not to cry, because when the positions were reversed it took more to make Dean cry, but he was relentless, the same spots again and again, fast and hard and with no break, and it went from sharp pain to unbearable rawness before he finally stopped and pulled her up.

He held her just for a second, kissed the moist of her cheeks where she had cried quietly, before positioning her on the bed, bent over. She complied, she obeyed at his hands, and she was surprised how easily it came to her. His voice in her ear then, hot breath, "You're mine."

She nodded.

"Say it, Ellen."

"I'm yours."

"You belong to me. You don't ever get to leave me," he said, voice still giving an order, still in a roleplay, except that it wasn't, there was a question there, and she answered, repeated, "I'm yours," and tried to make her voice into a promise.

He pushed into her, and she was soaking already, and it was fast, faster than she expected, but good, deeper and harder and good, and when she started to come, he bit a bright mark into her shoulder, hard and vicious. She screamed, cussed him out, but he kept pounding into her, and built her back up to near-orgasm again, this time letting her finish, ordering her to come. When she had, he pulled out and spilled white across her back, and as she felt the stickyhot land on her, she was sure he aimed for his bite mark, his seed another claim on her body, another promise he wanted her to carry. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling.