Light Switch (6 page)

“So there are sensations I can give and deny you as I see fit,” he said. “Then there’s restraint. I can bind you with ropes, chains, cuffs, even my hands. Physically bend you to my will.” The backs of his fingers caressed my face, and I shivered. Such a tender touch even as he spoke of force and bondage. He went on. “Or I can let your submission be your restraint. Order you not to move, not to speak.” His thumb traced my lower lip. “Not to come.”

A tingle worked its way up my spine. Every word he spoke disturbed the air above my lips, so I knew his mouth was close. Not close enough for me to feel his breath, but close enough for me to catch the light scent of his aftershave. He was teasing me again, I was sure of it. Taunting me with the promise of a kiss which would be pulled back a split second before a point of no return.

“By controlling what you feel,” he said, “by extension, I control your orgasms. And what I can’t control by giving or denying stimulation, I will control through your submission. I decide when you come and when you don’t. No matter how I touch you, you will not come until and unless I explicitly allow it. Am I clear?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” When he spoke again, a subtle lilt added some sly humor to his tone. “Of course, I’ve chosen not to make it easy for you to obey me tonight. After all, when I control your senses as I do now, denying you any stimulus except what I expressly allow, then even the slightest touch is more intense.” He made a light circle around my nipple with his fingertip. “Isn’t it?”

My back arched off the bed. “Yes, Sir.”

“So you can imagine the intensity,” he whispered, moving close enough now that his breath touched my lips. “when it’s
more
than just a slight touch, can’t you?”

“Yes, Sir, I can.”

The warm breath of laughter made me shiver. “No, I assure you, you can’t.”

With that, he kissed me. In the space of a heartbeat, the world was reduced to where his lips and mine made gentle, unmoving contact. It became the focal point of my entire universe, drawing every last fragment of my awareness to it.

Abruptly, he broke the kiss as he snatched my wrist and pinned it to the bed. My mind swirled with confusion and panic.

“Did I give you permission for that?” His low growl told me I’d misstepped, but how? My heart pounded. I hadn’t had a conscious thought or performed a conscious action since before he kissed me. What had I done?

“Answer me.” His hand tightened around my wrist. A piece fell into place: when he’d grabbed me, I’d been reaching for him. Touching him, if the vague tingling in my fingertips was to be believed. With neither realization on my part nor permission on his, I’d reached up to touch him while he kissed me.

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“You’re still learning.” His voice softened and allowed me to release held breath. “I won’t punish you this time.”

I exhaled hard, not caring in the least if he saw or heard how much relief I drew from this amnesty.

“After all,” he said, “I’m not making this easy for you, am I?”

“No, Sir,” I whispered.

Still holding my wrist, he kissed me again. At first, his lips didn’t move at all. They were simply against mine, gentle
yes, I’m touching you
contact like his hand across my throat earlier. Then, his lips parted and the tip of his tongue coaxed my lips apart. I wasn’t sure how passive I was required to be, if I was expected or forbidden to return his kiss. Testing the water, I let my tongue graze his. When he didn’t pull away, I tried to deepen the kiss even more, but this time he broke contact.

For a moment, we were still again. The warmth of his skin and breath were still close to my lips, but he remained out of my reach. He came back down to me and met my lips with the same unmoving
here I am
touch as before. Again, he parted his lips. Again, he parted mine with the tip of his tongue. Again I met his tongue with mine, but this time left it to him to decide how deep and how long this kiss would be. Evidently satisfied I knew my place, he kissed me more passionately, more aggressively. I returned it in kind, but followed his lead.

He released my wrist and ran his hand along the top of my leg, fingertips drifting between my thighs as he worked his way down to my knee. Once there, he hooked his fingers under my knee and drew it up and toward him. With my leg resting against him, his erection was undeniable and left no doubt at all that he was as aroused as I was.

He broke the kiss and shifted, probably resting on his side again.

“Touch yourself.” The terse order broke the silence and sent a shock of panic and uncertainty through me.

“What?” I hesitated, then quickly added, “Sir?”

“Show me what you do for yourself when you’re alone.”

My face burned. He was so matter-of-fact and straightforward about it, almost flippant in his assumption that not only did I masturbate like everyone else, but I would do so for him.

And he was right on both counts. The former because it was true, the latter because my obedient fingers were on my pussy before I’d even thought my embarrassment through. He was, after all, my Master.

I’d never touched myself in the presence of a man before, least of all at his command. Matt had certainly seen me do it more than a few times, but he was across the alley. He wasn’t right here beside me, and I never knew for sure if he was there, if he saw.

Scott was here. He saw. He knew.

The mattress shifted beside me, as did his presence. He must have been getting comfortable or adjusting his position somehow. I’d never been so acutely aware of someone. I couldn’t see him, I heard him only when he allowed me to, but he was undeniably
there
. My exposure and his scrutiny were almost unbearable, especially as I tried to figure out where he was looking. Was he watching my fingers? My face? Did he catch the way my lips parted with a ragged breath, or was his gaze so fixed on my hand that he caught the way it trembled just then? Was he grinning, or did he frown as the tip of his tongue ran slowly across his bottom lip while he considered his next move?

“You slowed down,” he said.

My cheeks burned again. I’d been distracted, forgotten what I was doing. “I’m sorry, Sir.” I circled faster with my fingers. Just knowing he was watching, that he was paying close enough attention to notice a change in speed, turned me on even more. Waves of cool fire radiated from my clit, intensifying with every sweep of my fingers. I chewed my lip, whimpering softly as my pussy tightened and the world around me slowly fell to pieces.

“Remember the rules,” he said. “You’re not to come until I allow it.”

I bit back a frustrated sound and took a few breaths as I slowed my fingers down, nearly bringing them to a stop as I let myself return to earth. Once I was certain I was again in control, I picked up speed, desperately trying to strike a balance between pleasing him and keeping myself from coming. In mere moments, I was at the brink once more, and slowed down.

“Keep going.”

“I’ll come, Sir,” I moaned. “If I don’t, I’ll—”

“No, you won’t. I haven’t given you permission to come, so you won’t. Will you?”

“No, Sir,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Then don’t stop or slow down.”

I took a deep breath. I moved my fingers per his command, but my touch was lighter now, the one concession I could make to keep my orgasm back without Scott noticing.

His fingertips drifted down my forearm to my wrist, then onto the back of my hand. His touch was light, just enough to make contact without hindering my motions. Not enough to hinder, but
just
enough to distract me.

“Don’t stop what you’re doing.” The whispered command was sharp, offering no choice but immediate, unquestioning obedience.

I found my rhythm again, moaning with both frustration and arousal as my orgasm built quickly, threatening release with every turn of my fingers. Applying less pressure didn’t even help much at this point.

His fingers slid across my hand and followed the length of my middle and third fingers until his hand completely covered mine. Molded against mine. His nearness to my pussy, with only my own fingers dividing him from my clit, turned me on more than the slow circles I made. There was something deliciously erotic about his first time touching me like this being through my own hand. About him being so, so close to my clit when I was so, so close to a climax.

Then his fingers continued down mine until they slid along my slick pussy lips. My back lifted off the bed, and the blindfold became moot because my eyes were screwed shut anyway.

I gasped as two fingers slipped inside me. As they did, his palm rested on top of my fingers, pressing them just a little harder against my clit. Another moan escaped my lips.

“You’re not coming yet, are you, Kristen?”

“No, Sir.” My teeth chattered and I nearly choked on the simple, automatic phrase.

“Good girl. You’ll come when I say you’ll come, and not a moment sooner.” His fingers moved faster, the heel of his hand pushing my own fingers against my clit. “Am I understood?”

“Yes, M—” The words fell to a moan. I wondered when he’d taken over the rhythm, when he’d gone from harmonizing with my motions to dictating both speed and intensity. He’d subtly removed my ability to control how much pressure I applied, and in doing so, he’d taken the last safeguard I had against an orgasm. I had only his command and my sheer willpower to keep me from coming now.

He cleared his throat, reminding me of the unanswered question.

My voice trembled as I said, “Yes, Sir.”

“I know you’re close,” he murmured in my ear. “I know you want me to give you permission. You don’t think you can hold back a moment longer, do you?”

“No, Sir.” The words came out as little more than a rush of breath.

“You can.” He pressed a little harder against my G-spot. “You can, and you will, because you want to obey me, don’t you?”

“Yes… Sir…”

Madness was a breath away. The faster our hands moved, the higher he sent me, the closer my inevitable orgasm came, and the less I could hold back. Every inch of my body tingled and trembled, every nerve ending pulsing with pent up energy that threatened to make me shatter. I’d never been so close to such a powerful release, been simultaneously given and denied so much.

“Kristen.”

I was vaguely aware of the sound of my name, of the implicit demand for acknowledgment, but his hand, his fingers, my clit—

“Kristen.”

I licked my lips, struggling to stay in the present, struggling to keep from coming.

“
Kristen
.”

I managed a breathless whimper of, “Yes, Sir?”

“Come.”

The last shockwaves of my orgasm dissipated into the ether. With a long sigh, my body relaxed, my arched back sinking down to the bed as my fingers loosened their vise grip on Scott’s shoulder. I had no idea when I’d grabbed him, had no recollection of ever reaching for him.

My other hand was still under his, still pressed against my clit as his fingers withdrew slowly. When his lifted off mine, I took my fingers off my clit, and I could finally breathe.

Scott gently grasped my wrist and took my other hand off his shoulder. “I may have to tie your hands next time.” His tone was stern, but there was just enough humor around the edges to let me know my misstep hadn’t been severe.

“Sorry, Sir,” I slurred.

He kissed me. “I’ll let it go this time. Just don’t let it happen again.”

“I won’t, Sir.”

He pushed the blindfold up and I lifted my head so he could tug it free. I blinked a few times until my vision came back into focus.

“Aside from that, you did well tonight.” He kissed my forehead. “You’re learning quickly.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“I’m not your Master anymore tonight,” he whispered. “Just Scott now.” He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one arm. Then he glanced at the window. “You like having that shade open, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t bother me,” I said with a casual shrug.

“Doesn’t bother you if someone sees us?” He raised an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a subtle smirk.

If the heat in my cheeks was any indication, there was no point in trying to convince him it was just an innocent oversight. “Not at all.”

“So you’re a bit of an exhibitionist, then.” He trailed his fingers up my arm. “My kind of woman.”

“I guess I am.” I laughed. “I didn’t even know I was until a few weeks ago.”

“Is that so?”

I nodded and gestured at the window. “My neighbor and I, we… we caught each other’s eye one night while I was getting undressed. And after I got over being embarrassed about it, I realized it turned me on. So I opened the shade again.”

“So now he watches you? When you’re with someone?”

“And when I’m alone, sometimes.”

Scott glanced at the window, then chuckled when he looked at me again. “That lucky, lucky bastard.”

I laughed. “What are you talking about? He only gets to watch. You get to do quite a bit more than that.”

“Good point.” He kissed me lightly. “Anyway, like I said, you did well tonight.”

“Well, we’ll see what happens when you start beating me.”

He chuckled. “You’d be surprised. You might just like that.”

“I don’t know. Still not sure if pain is my thing.”

“You might like it, you might not.” He smoothed my hair. “This isn’t one hundred percent about pain, anyway. It’s just pushing your limits with stimulation, fucking with your senses. I talk about pain sluts, I really mean subs—and even Doms—who like having their senses overwhelmed, be it with pain or anything else.” He paused. “I mean, Amy is really and truly a pain slut. That woman
loves
pain. But sometimes it’s a misnomer. It usually refers to someone who is a stimulus junkie.”

“But Amy likes pain?”

“More than anything. Which works out perfectly, since her husband doesn’t particularly like inflicting pain, and I’m a bit of a sadist.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, please. You don’t even know the half of it yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll enlighten me sooner or later,” I said. “So, what else is there?”

“Sky’s the limit. I know one Domme who has an extremely ticklish sub. She can torture him for hours with a feather the way I can beat Amy with a cane, and with similar results. It’s just about teasing the senses. Some people like to play with hot and cold, too.” He shuddered. “Cold is probably my Achilles’ heel.”

“How so?”

“Because it’s fucking
cold!
” He laughed. “Okay, seriously, it’s kind of like pain play. It’s an intense sensation, one that would be unpleasant under other circumstances. It’s incredible, it’s a turn-on, but make no mistake: it still hurts. You don’t get to play with endorphins without experiencing some pain. And cold is kind of the same. It’s erotic and torture at the same time.”

“Okay, so what about heat?”

“Heat can be fun. I’m admittedly a little iffy about playing with candle wax,” he said. “If a sub really wants me to, I will, but it makes me nervous. It’s just so easy to burn someone. If something’s going to go wrong, it can happen so, so quickly.”

“Have you ever known a sub who was burned playing with wax?”

“Yes, I have.” He ran his fingers through his hair and I thought he might have shuddered again. “Really, it’s easy to keep the temperature controlled enough to prevent injury. Intellectually, I know I’m not going to hurt her, but it’s still something that makes me nervous. If a sub trusts me enough to do it, I’m not going to say no to her as long as she knows the risks. Tara likes it from time to time. Amy does too, but I’m
really
hesitant to do it with her.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she likes pain. A
lot
. Rational or not, I—” He paused. “You’re cold. Stand up for a second.”

I got up, and Scott pulled the covers back. Then he gestured for me to lie down again, and when I did, he put the covers over me. Now that I was under them, I had to admit he was right: I had been getting cold.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much. Thank you.”

He smiled. “Anyway, like I was saying, Amy likes pain, but I have to be careful nothing crosses the line into actual injury before it hurts her enough tell me to stop. Sometimes she gets so far into subspace, I—”

“Subspace?”

He nodded. “The endorphins take over and a sub will almost go into a trance. She’ll pretty much be unaware of anything except what I’m doing to her.”

“So, that’s a bad thing?”

“No, no, not at all,” he said. “But it means I have to be extra careful to keep an eye on her and make sure I don’t hurt her. With a flogger, I can control how hard I’m hitting her, and I won’t let it get out of hand.” He absently smoothed a wrinkle in the blanket with his fingertip. “With something like candle wax or any other heat play, if I were to burn her, she might not respond until it’s gone from a mild sting to a more serious burn. And even though I can keep the temperature well below any level that would cause a problem, I’m not comfortable with it. Amy gets so far into subspace, there are times I could probably saw off a limb and she wouldn’t protest.”

I laughed. “Wow, she really does like pain, doesn’t she?”

He smiled. “God, yes. More than any other sub I’ve ever had.” His smile faded a little, and he worried at another wrinkle in the comforter. “Which just, as I said, means I have to be careful so I don’t
really
hurt her.”

“Have you ever injured one of your subs?”

“No, fortunately.” He turned onto his stomach and pushed himself up on his forearms. “Not seriously, anyway. I’ve bruised a few, broken skin with a flogger, that sort of thing. But I’ve never scarred someone or anything like that.”

“That’s good to know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?”

“No. Well, not that you’d be careless or anything, but I admit, some of the ‘pain play’ as you call it makes me a bit nervous.”

“Understandable. But I promise you, when we get to that point, I’m always very, very careful with pain. With any sensation play, actually. It’s easy to overwhelm someone with any intense sensation, whether it’s pain or not. I don’t want to hurt you any more than I want to over stimulate or upset you to the point you won’t let me near you.”

I smiled. “I don’t see that happening any time soon.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to keep it from happening, believe me.” He winked. “After all, I want you to let me near you again.”

“I doubt that’ll be a problem.”

“Good.” He paused. “Actually, I was thinking, we could try a little pain play one of these nights. If you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

I swallowed. The thought both excited and unnerved me. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Maybe a flogger?”

I chewed my lip. “How much does something like that hurt?”

Scott grinned. “As much as I want it to.”

“Oh, that’s encouraging.”

He chuckled. “Actually, that’s the God’s honest truth. It depends on the material and construct of the flogger, but it also depends on who’s flogging you. I can do it so lightly it feels like your hair falling on your back, or I can do it hard enough to draw blood.”

“I’ll pass on the drawing blood, thank you.”

“Most people do, early on.” He shifted onto one elbow and, with his free hand, trailed his fingertips down my arm. “But you never know until you try it. You might like just a little bit of thud, or you might get off on a lot of sting.”

“Thud? Sting?”

“Exactly what they sound like. One is just a dull percussion, the other has a bit more bite. And really, flogging doesn’t even have to be pain play. It just depends on what the sub wants and what the Dom wants to dish out.” He paused, then pushed himself up. “Roll onto your stomach.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m just going to give you a little sample of what it feels like.”

“You’re not going to whip the hell out of me, are you?”

“Only if you ask me to.”

I turned onto my stomach, resting my head on my folded arms.

The familiar metallic jingle gave me goose bumps. The hiss of leather across denim made every muscle in my back and shoulders tense.

His palm touched my lower back and drew a barely-there line up my spine. “I’m going to start out light and easy, okay?”

I nodded.

His hand paused at the base of my neck, then started down my spine again. “Relax. You’ll feel it, but it won’t hurt. Just relax and don’t forget to breathe.” Muscle by muscle, his soft touch and whispered command loosened the tension, calming my nerves until I let out a long, serene breath.

He lifted his hand off my skin, and some of the tautness returned to my back. It wasn’t apprehension about what he was going to do next, just my body seeking his now absent touch.

The belt hit just below my shoulder blade, the dull impact registering as a light tap. Then the leather slid over my skin before lifting away and coming down again. And again. And again.

“That doesn’t hurt, does it?” he asked, his voice as gentle as the belt’s strokes.

“Not at all.”

“I’m going to do it a little harder this time, okay?”

I nodded.

He struck harder. Still, the sensation didn’t even remotely resemble pain. As he continued this way, it became more like a massage than anything. A percussive massage. The slow, steady rhythm became like a second heartbeat, lulling me into a calm, relaxed state I’d never before associated with someone striking me.

His voice sounded miles away when he spoke. “Do you want me to try it a little harder?”

I murmured something in the neighborhood of “yes”.

The next impact was harder, resonating deeper within me. There was still no pain, just a thud followed by a vibration that radiated through me like the last wave of a waning orgasm.

“It might sting a little this time,” he said. “Just tell me if it gets to be too much.”

The belt struck harder, and it was the sharp sound of leather on skin that startled me before the vague sting made itself known. Before I’d even processed the fact that there was pain, he hit me again, and that, too, hurt. It reminded me a little of a bee sting. No, the
memory
of a bee sting, pain so faint and far away it might not have truly existed in the present.

Eventually, he stopped. He dropped his belt off the side of the bed and lay beside me again. He didn’t speak for a long time, just ran a gentle hand up and down my back, laying a soft touch over skin that had become accustomed to sharp leather contact.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” I murmured, closing my eyes.

“How did the belt feel?”

“Different.”

“Different?”

“Mm-hmm. Not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

I opened my eyes and met his. “I thought it would hurt more. And that I wouldn’t like it.”

He grinned. “But you do, don’t you?”

“Very much so, yes.”

“So, what do you think? Want to give flogging a try?”

“Well, I love what you were doing.” I smiled as I turned onto my side. “But you’re the Master, so it’s your decision.”

He touched my face. “I knew you’d be a fast learner.” And he kissed me again. I didn’t know where that man learned to kiss, but he’d learned it well. He knew just how to tease my lips apart with the tip of his tongue, how to raise goose bumps over every inch of my skin with only the slightest brush of his lip across mine.