Light Switch

by Lauren Gallagher

  “Put your left arm up.”

  Closing my eyes, I exhaled slowly through my nose and did as he ordered.

  Fingers wrapped around my wrist. Metal jingled and rattled. The restraint encircled my wrist. Leather hissed across leather. When Scott released my arm, the rigid cuff held fast.

  “Right arm.”

  Jingle. Rattle. Hiss.

  And I was tied.

  Scott came a little closer, and now he stood right behind me. His clothes brushed my bare skin as he put his hands on my hips. He kissed my neck, laughing softly when I shivered.

  “There are few things in this world,” he whispered, trailing a finger up my side and along my upraised arm, “that are sexier than a woman bound. Complete surrender, complete trust, complete willingness to be at my mercy.” He ran his hands up and down my sides, tracing the curve of my waist and the swell of my hip. “Do you like being at my mercy, Kristen?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I breathed.

  “Good.” Stubble brushed the side of my neck. “Because I intend to keep you this way for quite some time.”

  I bit my lip and closed my eyes. With anyone else, the words might have come across as a threat, but with him, every syllable was a whispered promise, a fate to which I gladly surrendered. Nervousness still existed, tingling at the outermost edges of my senses, but I laid my trust in the gentle hands now resting on my hips.

  “Do you want me to let you go?” he asked.

  “Only if that’s what you want, Sir.”

  “Good girl.” He kissed the back of my shoulder. “There are so, so many things I could do to you now.” One hand drifted up to cup my breast. “I could flog you. Tease you without letting you come.” Another kiss, this time just behind my ear. “There’s almost no limit to what I could do. And you’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes… yes, Sir.” When had I lost my breath?

  He pinched my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, bringing a breathless whimper to my lips just before he nipped my earlobe. “I could fuck you like this. Just like I did up against your bedroom window. Would you like that?”

  Oh, God, yes. The metal rings on my cuffs jingled in time with my trembling hands. “Yes, Sir.”

  His hands moved back to my hips, and he pulled me against him, letting me feel how hard he was. My head spun and my pussy tightened as I remembered the way his cock had hit my G-spot when he’d fucked me at this angle against the window.

  “I could fuck you,” he growled, “and you’d have no choice but to take it. Right here, without moving, as fast or slow as I saw fit to give it to you, until I let you go.”

  Nervousness grazed my senses at the reminder that I was bound and immobile, but it faded behind my heartbeat, which thundered at the promise in Scott’s words and the warm hardness of his clothed cock against me.

  “Kristen, are you doing okay?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Do you want me to bind your ankles?”

  Goose bumps prickled my back, and Scott ran his fingers across them.

  “You can say no.” His voice was as gentle as the hand that squeezed my shoulder. “I’m not going to push you further than you can handle. Do you want me to bind your ankles?”

  I gulped. I was here to push limits that had already pushed me back and won. Being completely tied scared me, but I wasn’t backing down this time.

  “Yes, Sir, I do.”

  Fingertips drifted up and down the side of my neck. “Does it make you nervous?”

  “Yes, but I want to.” I licked my lips before quickly adding, “Sir.”

  He said nothing. The near silent rustle of fabric suggested movement, and as his hand slid down my side, my hip, my thigh, and continued down to my ankle, I guessed he was kneeling.

  Jingle. Rattle. Oh God. Cool leather.

  My throat tightened around my breath as the cuff tightened around my ankle. Closing my eyes, I took a long, deep breath, then let it out slowly.

  Scott’s hand warmed my other ankle. “I’m going to cuff this one, too.” He did nothing for a long moment. He held my leg, his grasp firm but more forgiving than the leather strap around my other.

  Evidently certain I had no objections, he put the second cuff on.

  Ice water slithered through my veins. I took a few more long, deep breaths, focusing hard on the cross’s quick release, which was just visible out of the corner of my eye. I was immobile, but I was not trapped. I couldn’t move, but I was only a word and a click away from freedom.

  I can do this. I can handle this.

  Warm hands drifted up the sides of my legs. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded slowly.

  “I’m going to step away for a second,” he whispered, rising behind me. “I’ll only be a few feet away. Are you okay with that?”

  Another nod.

  Scott cleared his throat.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl.” He kissed the base of my neck. A second later, cool air touched my skin, silently announcing that the space behind me was vacant. I closed my eyes, listening to Scott’s footsteps on the hard floor. He was off to my left, by the rack of floggers. Something rustled. Something opened, then clicked shut.

  I listened for the subtle sounds of a flogger coming down off the rack—the handle brushing its hook, the tails whispering against each other or sliding across Scott’s palm—but those sounds didn’t come.

  Ice clinked against glass.

  My posture straightened and I sucked in a breath.

  Footstep. Footstep. Footstep.

  Something solid clicked on the floor behind me. The glass, I guessed, if the quiet clinking was anything to go by.

  He was behind me again. Even if I hadn’t tracked the sound of his movements from there to here, there was no mistaking his presence. Though he didn’t touch me, the layer of coolness against my skin had warmed almost imperceptibly. Warmed and electrified.

  “I’m going to put the blindfold on now.” He waited a moment, probably looking for signs of resistance or concern. Then he reached around and slid the blindfold over my already closed eyes.

  And it was done. I was bound. Blind. Completely and totally at my Master’s mercy, and unsure if it was exhilarating or terrifying. Or both.

  I can do this. I can handle this.

  Movement behind me again. His knee or ankle cracked, so I guessed he was kneeling. Ice clinked. Another joint cracked. I kept my eyes tightly shut behind the blindfold.

  My senses went on even higher alert now, searching for anything that would betray his next move. I had no idea whether to anticipate the soft warmth of his hand or the breathtaking shock of ice against my skin. I kept my eyes closed and waited.

  Deep breath.

  Heartbeat.

  Bindings rattling.

  Waiting.

  Deep breath.

  Heartbeat.

  Contact.

  Holy. Fuck.

  The first sensations were so overwhelming, it took me a moment to process what he’d done, how he’d touched me, even where he’d touched me or with what. I sucked in a breath, my entire body tensing, and it was a few seconds before I could comprehend that he’d laid a warm, dry palm on my left side, and an ice cube on my right.

  I exhaled hard as both hand and ice moved, sliding up my sides, leaving tingling trails of hot and cold. With the ice for contrast, the warmth of his hand may as well have been fire. As he drew both hands toward the center of my spine, my back arched, and I had no idea if I was trying to get away from the intense sensations or move toward them.

  His hand lifted off my skin, and there was only ice now. A single, freezing point of contact, surrounded by the vague warmth of Sir’s equally intense presence.

  The ice was never still. He kept it constantly moving across my skin, constantly finding and stimulating unsuspecting nerve endings. Cold and blindness weren’t nearly as intense as pain, but the blindness intensified the cold, and together they sent an intoxicating rush of endorphins through me. Every
place ice touched may as well have been directly connected to my clit. Every chill and shock and tremor surged across every nerve, straight down to the base of my spine and right to my pussy. Nothing existed beyond wherever ice met skin and where the resulting sensations lingered.

  When the ice cube slid beneath my breast, it was more intense than I expected, and I jumped. My restraints rattled. Rattled, and held me firmly in place. My entire body remained still in spite of my instinctive—and futile—effort to move.

  In an instant, fight or flight shoved blissful delirium aside. I clenched my fists and bit my lip, taking slow, deep breaths as my heart went into overdrive. My knees shook. My head spun. Cold water surged through my veins, and it had nothing to do with the ice on my skin.

  Scott’s arm was suddenly around my waist, his body against mine, and though I couldn’t see him, I could tell by the way he leaned that he was reaching for the quick release.

  “Wait.”

  He froze. “What?”

  “Don’t.” I swallowed. “Don’t let me go.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I took a breath and nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  His posture relaxed slightly. Then he put his other arm around my waist and kissed the back of my shoulder. “Krissy, if you’re scared—”

  “I’m okay.” I exhaled. “I just needed to remind myself I can still get out. I’ll be fine.”

  Scott didn’t speak for a moment. Then he stepped back, hesitantly releasing my waist. His hands weren’t far away, probably still hovering an inch or two away from my skin. I could neither see nor feel them, but I knew they were there.

  “Okay,” he said finally, though he didn’t sound completely convinced. “If you’re sure.”

  “I am.”

  His hands lingered for another moment or two. Then he pulled away. He checked my hands, squeezing them gently and feeling my fingers.

  “Are your hands cold? Tingling?”

  “No, Sir.”

  He released my hand and rested his on the side of my neck. “Your heart is still going a mile a minute. I can release your ankles if it’ll help you come down. We can always bind them again.”

  “No.” I wetted my lips. “No, I don’t want you to.”

  The hand on my neck slid to my shoulder and he squeezed gently. “Tell me your safe words again.”

  “Red and yellow, Sir.”

  He was silent again, neither moving nor speaking. Then he released my shoulder. Clothes rustled again. Ice clinked. I drew in a breath and waited.

  I expected the sudden shock of cold contact, but I didn’t expect it on the inside of my calf. Instinctively, I tried to bend my knee and jerk away, but the cuff held me in place. The chain clanked and I went nowhere. My heart raced, my body tensed, and panic threatened to shatter the confidence I’d gained in overcoming my fear a moment ago.

  Breathe.

  I took a deep breath. Held it. Released it.

  “Are you okay?” Scott asked, his voice gentle.

  “Yes.” And I was. I was okay. I could do this.

  “Do you want me to continue?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The ice continued its cold path up to the back of my knee. The startling chill on sensitive skin made my leg jerk again, but I was expecting the resistance this time, and when the cuff held me in place, I didn’t worry. I hadn’t really been trying to escape. It was simply a response to the cold.

  There was no panic. No panic at all. At that realization, a rush of something like elation swept through me.

  Yes, I can do this. I can handle this.

  Scott continued drawing the ice up my leg, this time along the inside of my thigh. The higher it moved, the less I could breathe.

  Something changed. Nerves searched for an explanation, for a way to comprehend this alien…something. A new sensation. A foreign sensation. The absence of a sensation.

  Absence. That was it: the ice no longer touched me. My skin tingled and my nerves sought cold. Or warmth. Or skin. Anything. Sudden cold was nothing compared to the jarring absence of it.

  When the ice made contact again, it was with the cleft between my pussy lips. My whole body tensed and I gasped, but I was bound too securely to either pull away or press harder against the cold, and I didn’t know which I wanted to do more. I wanted it away from me. I wanted more of it. I wanted to breathe, but couldn’t remember how to exhale. I shivered, and it was as much from the cold on my skin as the heat beneath it.

  The ice moved back and forth along my pussy lips, cooling my skin and melting my insides. He didn’t keep it in one place long enough to make anything go numb, and every motion was nearly as intense as the last. Every time he neared my clit, I gasped, and every time he drew away, I whimpered with frustration. Occasionally, he drew it down my thigh, pulling all the stimulation away from my pussy just long enough for me to catch my breath before he brought it back up.

  Eventually, the ice melted, and all that remained was his hand. As his cold fingers slipped inside me, his warm breath and lips touched the side of my neck. In that instant, the bindings that had once terrified me became the only things keeping me from collapsing. With their support, I did the only thing I could do: stand there, completely bound, and let him slide his fingers deeper into my pussy.

  His shirt brushed my back as he wrapped his other arm around me. “If I didn’t know any better,” he whispered. “I would think you were turned on by being tied and teased like this.” He slowly withdrew his fingers as he added, “Do you want me to fuck you, Kristen?”

  Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I’d have given up the privilege of breathing just then if it meant my Master would fuck me. I opened my mouth to try to tell him so, but couldn’t, not while he subtly bent and flexed his fingers inside me. You expect me to speak when you do that?

  “I asked you a question.” He withdrew his fingers, then slid them back in as he said, “Do you want me to fuck you, Kristen?”

  “Yes.” The word came out as a choked sob, the only thing I could get past the madness that tied my tongue in knots. Wrong answer, something in the back of my mind screamed. My fear of displeasing him convinced my mouth to work, and I managed, “Yes, if that’s…if that’s what you want, Sir.”

  He kissed my neck. “Good girl.” His fingers withdrew and his arm lifted off my waist. He moved behind me, presumably kneeling. Then he tugged at one of my ankle restraints.

  Hiss. Rattle. Jingle. One ankle was free.

  Hiss. Rattle. Jingle. The other.

  Relief washed over me. I’d made it to the other side of this. No real panic, no freaking out, and now I was almost free.

  I did it. I handled it.

  When he released my hand from its cuff, I let it drop to my side. I opened and closed my other hand, expecting it to be freed at any moment as well, but then a metallic creak caught my attention.

  Scott brought my free hand to rest on the small of my back. “You’ve done well, Kristen. Very well.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” I whispered.

  “But we’re not done yet.” Cold metal encircled my wrist. As the cuff closed, the vibration reverberated through me. He released my other hand, then cuffed it as well. He held the chain between the bracelets and pulled back slightly.

  “Step back.”

  I did, and like a prisoner, he led me out of the dungeon and across the hall. I guessed, from the distance and direction, we were going into the bedroom. He confirmed that guess when he guided me to the bed and had me sit.

  He released one of the cuffs. “Lie back and put your hands up by the headboard.” Once I’d done as he ordered, he secured my hands to the headboard. “Is that too tight?”

  “No, Sir.”

  Without a word, he moved again. His clothes rustled and landed on the floor with muffled thuds. Then the sounds of getting, opening, and putting on a condom made my breath catch. My pulse soared when he got on top of me. Rose even higher as his hips warmed my inner thighs and he guided himself to me. When
the head of his cock slipped between my pussy lips, I bit my lip to suppress a moan. He wasn’t even inside me yet, and I was about to lose my damned mind.

  “Remember,” he said as he teased me with just the head of his cock, “you’re not to come until I allow it.”

  As always, that was going to be nigh on impossible to obey. Just having him this close to me was enough to make my G-spot pulse as if he were already fucking me. Not having an orgasm in his presence was like not breaking a sweat while running a marathon. Obey him I would, though. Come hell, high water, or an eternity without an orgasm, my Master would be obeyed.

  He pulled back a little, breaking contact with my pussy. “You understand, don’t you?” he growled.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl.”

  I bit my lip as he slid into me. With the blindfold on, I had no choice but to be completely aware of every place he touched me, of every inch of his thick cock, especially with as slowly as he moved.

  Like no other man I’d ever known, Scott was capable of staying in control at any speed. He could fuck me so fast and hard it hurt, or he could take glacial strokes and draw it out for ages. Tonight, it was the latter, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine where he found that kind of control. I couldn’t comprehend that such slow, fluid movement existed in the same universe as the madness which consumed me a little more with every stroke.

  Exist it did, though, and he made every stroke last an eternity. A blissful, torturous, perfect, agonizing eternity. In some other lifetime, I might have begged him not to stop in between pleading with him to fuck me harder and faster, but that wasn’t my place now. Not with him. I was at his mercy, under his command, and I would take whatever he saw fit to give me.

  He pushed all the way into me and stopped.

  “I’m going to release your hands,” he said. “And I want you to claw my back.”

  I swallowed hard. “Sir?”

  “Am I unclear?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Good.” He reached up to free my hands. First one cuff fell open, then the other. I flexed my hands and wrists a few times before putting my arms around him. His skin was hot to my fingertips. Hot and soft, inviting a gentle touch, not the nails he’d demanded.