Light Switch (25 page)

I whimpered, my entire body trembling as Matt continued to fuck me.

“I haven’t given you permission yet,” Scott said. I moaned again, this time out of aggravation. Scott’s denial fueled my frustration. My frustration dug my nails into Matt’s back. My nails in his back made Matt fuck me faster and harder. His violent thrusts held me right on the brink of an earth shattering orgasm. An orgasm which Scott continued to deny me.

“Sir, please,” I begged, almost sobbing with arousal and frustration and insanity. “Please, let me come, please…”

“Yes.”

With that simple, calm affirmative, I was gone.

“Oh, fuck, oh my God…” Matt’s trembling whisper penetrated my white-hot oblivion. He slammed his cock into me, hard enough to drive out my breath had I been able to draw any to begin with, and groaned.

For a long, breathless moment, we just held each other, our bodies unmoving except for the uncontrollable quivering that shook us both from head to toe. His forehead rested against mine, the sweat on his brow cooling my feverish skin.

He exhaled. I exhaled. His shoulders relaxed. One by one, my fingers loosened their hold on him. We both shivered as he pulled out.

He kissed me again. “That was amazing,” he breathed. I must have said something, responded with a slurred murmur, because I was aware of my own voice vibrating in my throat, but God only knew what I actually said.

As Matt got up to get rid of the condom, I met Scott’s eyes. Matt and I were sweaty and disheveled, but he was still fully dressed, neither a drop of sweat nor a hair out of place. Still just as calm and composed as he’d been all evening.

He gestured at the floor and, with a voice that echoed that omnipresent control, said, “Get on your knees.”

I scrambled to my feet and dropped to my trembling knees in front of him. My mouth watered as he unbuckled his belt.

“You’ve done well tonight,” he whispered.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re not done yet, though.” The sound of his zipper almost drew a whimper out of me. “After all, Matt came to watch, didn’t he?”

“Yes, Sir.” I glanced at Matt, whose eyes widened. He wetted his lips, and without thinking, I did the same.

“Look at me, Kristen,” Scott said.

I looked up at him, resisting the urge to let my eyes dart toward his hand as he stroked his hard cock. He ran his free hand through my hair.

“Do you want to suck my cock, Kristen?” he asked, almost whispering. He nodded toward Matt, but didn’t break eye contact with me. “Do you want him to watch you suck my cock?”

A desperate plea of “yes, yes, please, let me, Sir” made it to the tip of my tongue, but I bit my lip. That was the wrong answer.

“If that’s what you want, Sir,” I whispered.

“Good girl.” He grinned. His fingers tightened in my hair. “And that
is
what I want.”

~ * ~

After Scott had gone, Matt and I sat on my sofa, his arm slung around my shoulders as we both returned to a world beyond blindfolds and floggers.

They’d taken turns all evening, switching back and forth between voyeur and exhibitionist. Both of them had more stamina than two men in their thirties had any right to have, and they’d capitalized on it. By the end of the night, Scott had come twice. Matt, three times. Me? Heaven knew.

“
Krissy, you’ve just spent four years enduring a degree of sexual frustration that would have driven me batshit
,” Scott had said once. “
With all the sexual karma you’re cashing in right now, I say, the more the merrier
.”

The more the merrier indeed.

Matt closed his eyes and let out a long breath, resting his head against the back of the couch.

I put my hand on his leg. “You okay?”

He smiled, but didn’t open his eyes. “Oh, I’m just fine.”

“We didn’t hurt you? Wear you out?”

“You wore me out all right.” He looked at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “But I’m not complaining at all.”

“Good.” I squeezed his leg. “I honestly had no idea he was going to blindfold you.”

“Well, that does kind of defeat the purpose of watching, so…” He shrugged, chuckling. “Actually I didn’t mind. It was kind of cool.”

“Really?”

He nodded, closing his eyes again. “When I’ve watched you from across the alley—” He paused, swallowing hard. His cheeks darkened as he cast me a cautious look. Then he closed his eyes and went on. “When I’ve watched you, the only part that sucks is that I can only see you. I can’t hear you, I can’t feel you. But this…” He went quiet for a moment.

“This…?”

He opened his eyes and sat up, putting his hand over mine as he faced me. “This time, it still would have been hot if I could have seen you, but since I couldn’t, it was like I had no choice but to focus on all the other little things.”

I wetted my lips. “Such as?”

“Such as, the sounds you make,” he said. “Especially when he was flogging you. I swear to God, you sounded just like you were on the verge of an orgasm. And…” He dropped his gaze, his cheeks coloring a little more. “Okay, this is going to sound really stupid.”

“Try me.”

He took a breath. “When he was making you undress, I could hear your clothes moving across your skin. I’ve never paid attention to that before, but it…” He watched his fingertips making light circles on the back of my hand for a moment. “It was like I couldn’t just hear it, I could
feel
it.”

I shivered, imagining his fingers following the feather light paths my clothes had made as they’d fallen away.

“So,” he said, “for the first threesome I’ve ever experienced? I’d give it a ten.”

“Glad you enjoyed it.” I smiled. “Think this will be your only threesome? Or just your first?”

“Oh, I think I could be talked into another one.” He reached for my face and tilted his head. His lips barely brushed mine as he said, “What about you?”

I put my arms around his neck. “I think I could be persuaded.”

“Hmm,” he whispered between gentle kisses, “I hope that doesn’t mean you’re bored with twosomes.”

“Not in the least.”

“Good.”

Nerves coiled in my gut as I pulled into Scott’s driveway beside another car. Amy’s, I assumed. I took a deep breath. She was here. We were really doing this.

When Scott came to the door, he had Malia draped over his arm with one paw dangling and her tail curled around his elbow. He reminded me of some spy movie villain, plotting and scheming while he stroked the equally diabolical cat on his arm.

“Didn’t chicken out, I see?” he said with a grin.

“No, I did not.” I laughed. Glancing over my shoulder, I added, “I assume Amy hasn’t either?”

“Nope. She’s here. And I’m glad you’re here, because I think this will be fun.” Turning so we didn’t squish the cat, he kissed me quickly. When he started to pull away, Malia reached up and grabbed my shirt, hooking her claws in so we couldn’t separate.

“Um, Scott, your cat is trying to feel me up.”

“What can I say?” he said as he pried her claws free. “She has good taste.”

“She obviously didn’t pick you, then.”

“Shut up.”

Once he’d persuaded Malia to unhand me, Scott led me into his living room where Ryan, Amy’s husband, sat on the sofa.

“Ryan, you remember Kristen, right?” Scott said. “She’ll be beating the hell out of your wife today.”

“Yeah, I remember her.” Ryan laughed as he got up to shake my hand. “You’re letting this yoyo train you?”

“Well, I take everything he says with a grain of salt,” I said. “Always have.”

“Smart woman,” Ryan said with a nod.

“Okay, that’s enough out of both of you.” Scott rolled his eyes. To me, he said, “Amy just went into the spare bedroom to change clothes. She’ll be out momentarily.”

As if on cue, Amy stepped into the room, and both men’s eyes lit up. She wore a simple T-shirt and track pants, obviously going for comfort and practicality. I could only imagine the things she wore on other occasions; her lithe body was made for the leather ensembles I’d seen at the club.

Her long blonde hair was gathered into a ponytail and slung over one shoulder. Out of the way and exposing her back, I realized with a a half-excited, half-nervous flutter in my stomach.

“Ready?” Scott asked.

She smiled, first at me, then at him. “Always.”

“So when should I be back?” Ryan asked.

“Maybe an hour?” Scott said. “We might not be done yet, but I’d rather have you here earlier than not.”

“Noted.” Ryan kissed Amy’s forehead. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Have fun.”

She smiled. “I will.” They exchanged a brief look and a tender kiss, then Ryan made his exit. Once he was gone, we headed down the hall toward the dungeon.

I looked at Amy. “You really don’t mind doing this?”

“Not at all.”

“Even though I’ve never picked up a flogger in my life?”

She grinned and shrugged. “Practice makes perfect.”

“And I can think of few women more willing to be used for target practice,” Scott said, holding the dungeon door open for us. Amy and I went in first. Scott backed in, leaning down and trying to keep the cat out on his way in.

“Out, out, out,” he said, nudging her back as she tried to push past him. She hissed, and he muttered, “Hey, don’t backtalk me, Princess.” Finally he got the door shut, and the cat expressed her irritation by way of a paw swiping at his feet.

“Poor Scott.” Amy sighed and shook her head. “That little kitty is never going to listen to you, is she?”

“Maybe he should take her to obedience school,” I said. We exchanged mischievous looks and laughed behind our hands.

Scott folded his arms across his chest and glared at us. “Amy, keep it up, and you won’t get flogged today.”

Amy muffled a cough. “Sorry.” She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. When I snickered, she snorted, and Scott let out a sharp huff of breath.

“So my cat runs the house,” he said, rolling his eyes again. “I told you, she keeps me from getting too full of myself.”

“Yeah,” Amy muttered, flashing me a grin. “
That’ll
be the day.”

Scott swatted her playfully on the rear as he walked by. “Quiet, you. Now get ready so we can do this.”

Without another word, Amy took her shirt and bra off. She didn’t seem at all fazed by the idea of stripping to the waist in front of another woman. But then, something like this was probably tame compared to the things she and Scott did on a regular basis.

Once her shirt was off, Scott handed her a thick leather belt. It reminded me of the belts weightlifters wore to keep from damaging their lower backs.

“That’s to protect her kidneys,” Scott said as she put it on. “You won’t be hitting her as hard as I usually do, but better safe than sorry until you’ve practiced enough to be sure of your aim.”

“She can hit me as hard as she wants,” Amy said over her shoulder.

“She’ll hit you as hard as I say she’ll hit you.”

I bit back a laugh, wondering how many other women got the opportunity to tie up and beat the other woman with whom her man slept.

“Ground rules are pretty straightforward for this,” Scott said, adopting a more serious tone. “This is flogging and nothing more. Krissy, you’re not acting as my sub for this scene, but anything I say goes with regards to Amy.” His eyes shifted back and forth between us. “Any questions?”

“No,” we said in unison.

He looked at Amy. “Ready?”

“Absolutely.”

“Krissy?”

I nodded.

“Well, then what are we waiting for?” He stood in front of her and looked her in the eye. Then he kissed her lightly. After he broke the kiss, he ran the backs of his fingers down the side of her neck. She swallowed hard. When he ran his other hand through her hair, her gaze dropped, and when he kissed her forehead, her shoulders did as well.

Cued into instant submission through a series of simple gestures. Just like he’d done to me in the restaurant, he could do this to her in front of a million people, and no one would be the wiser. To anyone else, she was a woman in love, melting into her lover’s tender gestures. To the trained eye—and mine was trained enough now to see it—it was much, much more.

“What are your safe words?” he asked.

“Red to stop,” she murmured. “Yellow to slow down, Sir.”

“Good.” He stroked her cheek. “Do you understand that both Kristen and I will honor your safe words?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Look at me.”

She raised her eyes, though she kept her chin inclined.

With a sharp nod, Scott indicated the rack of whips and floggers. Amy went to the rack and selected a flogger. She carried it horizontally across her outstretched palms like a holy relic, keeping her eyes down as she returned to us. In front of Scott, she knelt and raised the flogger, presenting it to him.

Scott took it from her, stroking her hair once. Holding the handle in one hand, he slapped the tails against his opposite palm. The air ruffled Amy’s bangs, and a shiver ran up her spine.

“Stand up,” he said.

When she was on her feet, he pointed at the Saint Andrew’s Cross with the handle of the flogger. She obediently went to the cross and stood in front of it, head bowed, waiting for his next command.

He handed me the flogger. “Hang on to that for a second.” Now that his hands were free, he went about binding Amy.

As he secured her left hand, he paused. “You left your ring on, baby. Do you want it off?” Amy nodded and straightened her fingers so he could slip her wedding ring off. He put it in his back pocket, then resumed fastening the cuff. Once her hands were bound, he knelt to secure her ankles.

My heart raced for her, but she didn’t seem in the least bit concerned by her restraints. I envied her ability to be so calm and relaxed while totally immobile.

She was calm and relaxed, and Scott, true to form, got right down to business.

“First things first,” he said. “Start off light. Even when you and your sub are experienced, it doesn’t hurt to go easy at first. It’ll give your arm a warm-up and it gives her skin a chance to get used to it.” He gestured at her with the flogger. “Avoid the belt. Get used to avoiding the entire general area. If you hear the tails hitting leather, adjust your stroke until you’re not hitting it anymore.”

He hit her a few times, alternating from her left side to her right.

“See how it’s getting nice and pink across her upper back?” He gestured at her. “That’s where you want to stay. Now, you also want to make sure you know where your tails are going to land. Watch and see where they hit.” He struck her again. “Notice how none of the tails wrapped around her side. That wrap effect hurts like hell. While Amy here doesn’t mind that sort of thing, get in the habit of avoiding it.”

I had to laugh. Scott spoke completely matter-of-factly, explaining every technical aspect like the engineer he was, and he was either oblivious to or ignoring Amy’s moans and whimpers.

He went on. “Keep it in a figure-eight pattern. It’ll put you in a nice, steady rhythm.” He stopped and handed me the flogger. “Here, you try it.”

I chewed my lip, eyeing the implement in my hand and Amy’s pinked-up back warily. Smacking a pillow was one thing. No one flinched or yelped if I missed, or hit somewhere I wasn’t supposed to, or did it too hard.

“Go on.” Scott gestured toward her. “You’ll be fine, just start out easy, and avoid the belt and her spine.”

Swallowing hard, I raised the flogger. When I brought it down, I flinched, but Amy barely reacted. I tried it just a little harder, and this time was rewarded with the slightest twitch of her muscles. On the third strike, the tails smacked the belt.

“Aim higher,” Scott said. “You don’t want to hit her that low.”

“I know. This thing’s tricky to aim. I was used to the one you sent me home with the other night.”

“Yeah, every flogger’s different. Just keep practicing. Don’t worry, you’re doing fine.” After a few more hits, he said, “Try hitting her harder.”

“How much harder?”

He shrugged. “A little harder than what you’re doing.”

I hesitated. “But, how hard is
too
hard?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Scott, I don’t want to hurt her.”

He chuckled and held out his hand. I handed him the flogger. He raised it, let fly, and I jumped when the tails slapped her back so hard it almost stung
my
skin.

Amy whimpered, the shackles on her wrists rattling as her knees went slack.

“Amy, was that too hard?” Scott asked.

She whimpered again, managing to form something in the vicinity of a “no.” If anything, she sounded on the verge of an orgasm. With the way she trembled, I wondered if she was.

Scott grinned at me. “See? You’re not going to hurt her.” He raised it again, but just before he brought it down, something in another room shattered. Alarmed, I looked at Scott. He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and released a long breath through his nose.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Fucking cat,” he muttered through his teeth.

“Do you need to go take care of that?”

He shook his head. “I will when we’re done. I don’t want to leave—”

“It’s okay, Scott,” Amy said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure, baby?” he asked.

She nodded.

He chewed his lip for a moment, then handed the flogger back to me. “Keep doing what you were doing. Keep it light if you’re not comfortable without me here. Amy, I’m stepping out. You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

Another nod.

Scott cleared his throat.

“Yes, Sir,” she corrected.

“Good girl.” To me, he said, “I’ll just be a minute. Keep doing what I showed you. Figure-eights, careful of her spine.”

I nodded.

A moment later, the dungeon door clicked shut behind him, muffling his voice as he shouted, “Malia, I’m going to kill you, you fucking cat!”

I looked at the flogger, then at Amy. “Are you sure you don’t mind me doing this without him?”

“You’re doing fine, trust me.” She paused. Her restraints creaked as she twisted enough to look at me over her shoulder. “One thing, though.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Yes?”

“
Harder
.”

I gulped. I cast another wary look at the flogger, took a deep breath, and raised it. I followed the pattern of slow, steady figure-eights, and with every few strokes, I put more forced behind it. Amy’s moans and whimpers gave me pause a few times, but it didn’t take long to realize every sound was made of pure, delirious pleasure.

The repetitive rhythm was strangely relaxing, lulling me into almost a trance as the flogger’s tails swished through the air, slapped against her skin, then surrendered to gravity and slid down her back. Whoosh. Slap. Slide. Whoosh. Slap. Slide. Amy’s body was limp, her head hanging as she moaned with every stroke.

After a few minutes, I stopped and tucked the flogger under my arm so I could check her hands. They were still warm, and her nail beds still had color.