Like it’s designed to be worn for a long time, I thought, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
He fastened my other hand into place. I glanced up at my bound wrists, tugging at the restraints. The metal attachments jingled, but didn’t give. I was definitely not going anywhere.
To my surprise, I didn’t get that heart-stopping sense of panic when I tested my restraints. This isn’t so bad. I wasn’t completely immobilized. My feet could still move. I could still see, still speak. I knew Scott would release me if I asked him to.
Maybe I could handle this after all.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Good. Now, just to show you how quickly I can get you down if there’s a problem…” With a metallic clank, my hands were free. The cuffs were still around my wrists, but I was no longer restrained.
“Just say the word,” he said, “and I’ll bring you down. Understood?”
“Understood.”
He cleared his throat.
“Understood, Sir.”
“Good girl. Give me your hands.” He brought my hands up and hooked them to the cross again. “Is anything too tight?” He touched my left hand, then my right. “They’re not tingling or anything, are they?”
I shook my head.
Scott cleared his throat again.
“No, Sir,” I quickly corrected.
“If anything starts tingling or goes numb, or if you get lightheaded, tell me immediately. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
I closed my eyes as his hand came to rest on my side. It didn’t move. For a long moment, that point of light contact was the focal point of all my senses. It wasn’t even what he was doing now that occupied my thoughts, but what he would do next. I had no idea. No clue where the hand would go, where his other hand was, what went on in that mind of his.
After an age had passed, he finally moved. I pulled in a long breath as he slid his hand down my waist, over my hip, then between my thighs.
“Look at me, Kristen.”
I met his eyes, drawing back slightly from the intense scrutiny in his expression.
“When we were together last time, you disobeyed me, so as punishment, I gave you a specific order.” His fingers teased my pussy. “Do you remember what that order was?”
I swallowed hard, trying to speak in spite of what he did with his hand. Something was definitely tingling, but I didn’t want that to stop.
“Answer me.”
“I wasn’t to come until tonight, Sir.”
His middle finger slipped into me, then back out. As he pushed it in again, he whispered, “And did you obey that order?”
Before I could will myself not to, I dropped my gaze.
I gasped when he abruptly pulled his hand away. He gripped my jaw and raised my head so I had no choice but to look him in the eye.
His tone was cold when he spoke again. “Did you, or did you not, obey my order?”
“No, Sir. I didn’t.”
He scowled. “How many times.”
“Once. Last night.”
“I see.”
Silence. Long, icy silence, with nowhere to look but right into his disapproving eyes.
“I’m disappointed, Kristen,” he finally said.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“However,” he said, caressing my face as he spoke in a gentler tone now, “you were truthful and didn’t try to lie to me about it, even though you knew there would be consequences for additional disobedience. That tells me you’re not afraid of me. ” He smiled and kissed me lightly. “Because of that, I won’t punish you this time.”
My shoulders slumped with relief. “Thank you, Sir,” I whispered.
He knelt in front of me, tracing his hands over my waist and hips. One hand stopped on the side of my thigh while the other continued, running past my knee and down my calf before wrapping around my ankle.
“Now, since you still came when I wasn’t around, I need to teach you some discipline.” He pushed my ankles apart. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I made it easy for you before.” His fingers trailed up the inside of my leg. “All you had to do was not touch yourself. Not come.” He crested my trembling knee and started up my thigh. “That wasn’t a difficult request, was it?”
“No, Sir.”
“So, tonight…” He paused to kiss my hipbone. “I’m going to make it much harder for you. I want you to remember…” With slow, lazy strokes, his fingertip teased my pussy lips. “…that when you’re my submissive, it’s always…” One finger slipped into me. “…always…” Two fingers. “…easier to obey the first time than to create a second time.”
I inhaled sharply as his fingers slid deeper and found my G-spot.
“You will obey me tonight.” His voice vibrated against my skin. “Won’t you, Kristen?”
“Y-yes, Sir.” I gripped the straps on my restraints as my knees shook violently.
“Good girl,” he whispered. “Then that means that no matter what I do…” He gently pushed my legs further apart with his other hand. “…you won’t come unless I allow it.”
I sucked in a breath as he leaned closer to me. Warm breath drifted over my clit, my only warning before his lips closed around it.
Holy fucking hell.
Some men were good at this. Some were amazing. The things Scott did with his mouth transcended “amazing” or any other pedestrian description. His tongue made slow, gentle circles around my clit, effortlessly finding every deliciously sensitive spot as if he’d put them there himself. My knees trembled. My eyes rolled back. Breathing was no longer a priority, but at least the gasps and moans he caused kept some air flowing.
Don’t come, I begged myself. If ever I’d thought it was frustrating when a man tried in vain to get me off, that was nothing compared to the torture of keeping myself from coming while Scott Moore’s mouth demanded an orgasm from my clit. I held my breath, gripped my restraints, dug my teeth into my lip, but nothing could distract me from the perfect circles and flutters of his tongue.
His fingers slipped easily in and out of my pussy, and I cringed each time they neared, then brushed, my G-spot. When they pressed against it, beckoning at the same speed his tongue moved across my clit, I couldn’t hold back.
With a moan that was equal parts ecstasy and defeat, I came, my knees buckling as my spine tried to do the same.
Scott withdrew his fingers and released my clit before my orgasm had completely run its course, but there was still no stopping it. Even without the constant stimulation, the damage was done, and wave after wave of delicious ecstasy rippled through me.
I managed to get my knees under me again a second before the quick release clanged and my hands fell to my sides. I was free, but the cuffs still encircled my wrists. Unbound, but still bound.
Scott looked at me with narrowed eyes, his lips thinning into a straight line. Inwardly I cringed, knowing I’d misstepped once again. More than any bondage or pain, I feared his disapproval, and his disapproval I had just earned.
With a sharp nod, he indicated the floor. “Get on your knees.”
I did, holding my breath as I awaited admonishment.
He was silent. I knew he was looking at me, but he neither spoke nor moved for what seemed like days.
“That’s twice you’ve disobeyed me,” he said eventually. “I’ve demanded control of your orgasms, and you’ve twice refused to surrender that control.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“I could have let it slide once, especially since you were alone.” He came down to my level, resting his elbows on his knees and looking me right in the eye. “But twice? And so brazenly in my presence?” He clicked his tongue and shook his head.
I dropped my gaze and murmured another apology.
“That puts a crimp in my plans for this evening.” He stood again. Walking a slow, tight circle around me, he added, “I’d planned to fuck you tonight,
but now I have to come up with a punishment instead.”
Anticipating punishment and knowing I wouldn’t have him inside me tonight were nothing compared to the gut-turning shame. I’d disobeyed him, earned his disapproval when I so ached for the opposite.
He stopped in front of me. “I could fuck you good and hard, but then you might come even though I’ve ordered you not to.” He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. “And if I gave you the opportunity to disobey me a third time, I’d only have myself to blame, now wouldn’t I?”
Shame made me cringe more than the pain made me flinch. “I won’t disobey you, Sir.”
“So you’ve said.” He raised my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “I don’t believe you.”
I screwed my eyes shut to avoid his disapproving glare.
“Next time,” he said, “as long as you’ve been a good girl, I’m going to fuck you. But for now, since you haven’t…” He trailed off as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. My mouth watered. I desperately wanted his cock inside me, but if sucking him off was punishment for that earth-shattering orgasm or the ones last night, then so be it.
Just inches from my face, he stroked himself slowly. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir,” I whimpered. “Yes, I do.” I quickly caught myself. “If that’s what you want. Sir.”
“And if I allowed it, you’d suck my cock, wouldn’t you?” His hand moved faster now.
“Yes, Sir. Anything you want.”
He laughed. “So cooperative and obedient now that what you want is out of reach.”
“I won’t disobey you anymore, Sir. I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“The thing is, I can’t decide what I want you to do.” He added a slight twist to the motion of his hand, just as I’d have done if my hand were in its place. “As I said, were I to fuck you, you might come in spite of my orders to the contrary, and—”
“No, no, I—”
“Don’t interrupt me,” he snapped.
“I’m sorry, Sir.” My hands opened and closed at my sides, aching with the need to stroke him the way he stroked himself.
“If I fuck you, you might come without my permission. So I could let you suck me off, couldn’t I?”
Please, please, yes, please. “Yes, Sir, if you—”
“But you enjoy that. I know you do. Don’t you?”
I exhaled through clenched teeth. “Yes, Sir, I do.”
“Then that leaves me no choice, really, but to punish you by making you watch me come without letting you help.” He stroked faster.
I whimpered with frustration. His cock was so close I could taste it, so deliciously close my pussy tightened at the mere thought of him throwing me down and fucking me, but he wouldn’t let me touch him. He wasn’t going to let me touch him because I hadn’t earned the right.
“Sir, please. I won’t disappoint you again.”
“I know you won’t.” He pulled my head back a little, that minute increase in distance between my lips and his cock driving me insane. “But since you did, this is all you get tonight.” A second later, a low groan emerged from the back of his throat. I whimpered again as hot semen hit my chest and neck.
Tightening his grasp on my hair, he forced me to look him in the eye again. Though he was a little out of breath and his face and neck had some extra color, his expression didn’t betray even the slightest loss of control. Seconds after an orgasm, and he was just as calm and collected as he’d been all night.
“We’re going to try this again,” he said. “For the next week, your orgasms are mine. You will only come when you’re with me, and when I give you permission. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He let go of my hair and stepped away to get a towel out of the cabinet. He held it out to me.
“We’re done for tonight,” he said coldly. “Get dressed.”
I couldn’t look him in the eye as I took the towel from him. “Thank you, Sir,” I murmured. Shame and frustration tangled in my chest.
After I’d dressed, Scott led me out of the dungeon and back into his living room. We sat on the couch with his arm slung over my shoulders. With his other hand, he lifted my chin.
“We’re done now,” he said, his tone gentler. “I’m not your Master anymore.” He kissed me and stroked my hair. As I returned his kiss, the lingering tension in my shoulders melted away. His gentle affection assured me he wasn’t kidding; punishment and disobedience stayed in the dungeon. Out here, all was forgiven, and we were back on level ground. I pulled him closer and combed my fingers through his hair.
Malia bounded onto the couch and onto our laps, startling both of us.
“Little attention whore.” Scott chuckled as he scratched her ears. “You just have to be right in the middle of everything, don’t you?” She flopped down across our laps, rolling onto her back and purring as we petted her.
“She does keep you in line, doesn’t she?” I laughed.
He rolled his eyes. “Please. She just reminds me that not every female on the planet obeys my every command.”
“No, we definitely don’t.”
He raised an eyebrow, then laughed. “Great, so my cat’s been a bad influence on you.”
I looked at Malia, then at him. “Or I might be a bad influence on her.”
“Just what I need.”
“You said yourself, she keeps you from getting too full of yourself.” I grinned. “I would just be doing my part to keep you humble.”
“Uh-huh.” He picked Malia up and set her on the other side of the couch. With her out of the way, he moved a little closer, raising goose bumps on my skin as he tangled his fingers in my hair. “Do I have to put you back on the cross and put you in your place?”
“Hmm, I don’t know.”
He kissed me, tightening his fingers in my hair. “Maybe I will, then. Just to keep you good and disciplined.”
“Promise?”
He laughed softly. “Oh, I’ll put you on it again. Just not tonight.”
“When?”
“As with everything, darling.” He paused for another kiss. “When I’m damned good and ready.”
Chapter 13
On Friday night, Matt was waiting for me in front of my building when I came downstairs. His back was to me, but when I pushed the door open, he turned around.
And we both stopped.
God only knew how many times we’d met out here before our morning jogs, dressed in shorts and T-shirts, using the bike rack and planters to stretch, with no expectations beyond a run and conversation. Even after all this time, my heart fluttered whenever I saw him, especially since he’d started watching me.
But seeing him like this took my breath away.
Under a black leather jacket, he wore a dark red shirt. He’d casually left the top two buttons open to reveal a simple silver chain resting on his collarbones. His hair had that carefully disheveled look, spiked and perfectly arranged to look messy.
I’d seen him dressed for a night out, but it had never been for a night out with me, and it was all I could do not to suggest we skip the night out in favor of a night in.
I bit my tongue, though.
“You look great,” he whispered.
I smiled. “So do you.”
He returned my smile, and we both fell silent. Then he came to life with a muffled cough. “Cab’s on its way. Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”
“I’m in no hurry.” I ran my fingers through my hair, just to give a restless hand something to do. That must have caught Matt’s eye, because he followed the slow, simple gesture.
Then he furrowed his brow and cocked his head. “What happened to your wrist?”
“What?” I lifted my hand again. A couple of silver bangle bracelets did a crappy job of hiding the fading red semi-circle below my hand. “Oh, that.” I laughed, tugging the bracelets over it. “Just…” Our eyes met. If the grin—half-shy, half-mischievous—pulling up one side of his mouth was any indic
ation, he had a pretty good idea where that mark had come from.
Shyness won over both of us, and we broke eye contact, letting the subject drop with our gazes.
Mercifully, our taxi pulled up. Matt opened the door and gestured for me to get in. I offered another smile and a murmured “thank you” when he gave me his hand to help me get in. Once I was situated, he closed the door and went around to the other side.
“Club Nine, please,” he said to the driver.
As the driver followed Matt’s instructions, I tried to get comfortable. I’d dressed for standing and dancing, not sitting in a cramped backseat. I tugged at my skirt, my cheeks burning as I realized just how much of my thigh the black fabric revealed. I glanced at Matt, and he quickly looked away, a hint of color lighting up his face.
I fought to keep from laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. We were two grown adults who could talk about anything and everything, but the minute we stepped inside the bounds of flirtation, we were reduced to a pair of blushing school kids.
I wondered if he was as uncertain about this as I was. There was no denying the tension between us, nor could I deny I wanted him badly, but I was afraid of ruining our friendship. Or spoiling the fun of our sordid window-to-window affair.
I just hoped we could get past this awkward shyness and either agree to stay friends or acknowledge this chemistry and do something about it.
Twenty minutes or so after picking us up, the cab let us out in front of Club Nine. It was still early, so there wasn’t much of a line, and before long, we’d paid the cover, checked our coats, and been turned loose among the rest of the club goers.
As I took in my surroundings, it was clear this was no country bar, seedy club, or wannabe disco.
Club Nine had plush booths, dim lights, and dark corners. Black lights made psychedelic patterns out of colorful drinks and wild clothes. Necklines dipped and hemlines rose to the very edges of modesty, and I forgot whatever asinine concerns I’d had about my skirt being too short. If anything, it might have been a bit long for this place.
Light Switch Page 13
