Light Switch (18 page)

“I’m a sadist, but I was terrified of actually injuring someone. That was one long, frustrating road, let me tell you.”

“Obviously you got over that.”

“Oh, I’m still conscientious about it,” he said, “but I’ve learned the lines and limits. I know my own strength, I know what my subs can handle, I know what different implements can do. It just took a while.” His lips pulled into a grin. “It took a while, and a couple of very aggravated subs.”

“I guess you could do worse than erring on the side of caution, though, right?”

“Yeah, but I took it to a bit of an extreme.” His eyes lost focus again, and the humor evaporated from his expression. Barely whispering, he said, “Once bitten…”

“Meaning?”

He swallowed, then shook his head. “Nothing.” Caressing my cheek, he said, “Anyway, is that all that was on your mind?”

No. Not even close
. I looked into his eyes, and an electric shiver worked its way down my spine. My confusing melee of emotions still existed in the back of my mind, but it could wait. I’d sort it out in time, and we could address it then. For now, we were back on the same page enough for me to exhale, and if one thing was absolutely undeniable, it was my physical reaction to him. All he had to do was meet my eyes, and my knees trembled. A light fingertip on the side of my face, and I was at his mercy. A kiss, and I was wet enough for him to fuck me without another moment’s foreplay.

His eyebrow lifted slightly and his hand drifted into my hair. The breath he drew was nothing if not a prelude to a repeat of his question, but I spoke first:

“Yeah, that was it.”

“You sure?”

I nodded. Then I glanced at the door. “Think we should go back and be social before everyone starts wondering where we are?”

“No.” He didn’t give me a chance to react to his simple declaration before his fingers curled in my hair and he pulled me into a gentle kiss. After only a second’s hesitation, I wrapped my arms around him.

By the time we separated, we were both breathless.

“I think we should get out of here,” he whispered, and even his soft tone didn’t invite negotiation. I nodded as much as I could with his hand in my hair. His grip tightened and his eyes narrowed. I whimpered as my friend transformed into my Master before my eyes. “Tomorrow, we’ll go to the club, maybe play with another Dom or sub, or in front of them. But tonight?”

I wetted my lips. “Yes, Sir?”

He smiled, the silent approval in his expression giving me permission to release my held breath. Just before he kissed me again, he growled three simple words that turned my bones to liquid:

“Tonight, you’re
mine
.”

“Sure about this?”

I looked at Scott as I buckled my seatbelt. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but there’s still time for second thoughts.” He shifted the car into reverse and glanced at me in the low light. “I’m serious. Are you sure about doing this?”

I took a breath. “Is it okay if I say I’m nervous, but still want to do it?”

He smiled. “Absolutely.” He backed out of the parking space and pulled out onto the main drag. “Let’s talk ground rules. This is a bit different than what you’re used to.”

“How so?”

“More people involved, mostly.” He glanced at me. “There will be a lot of people there, and it’s not uncommon for Doms and Masters to swap subs and slaves. Another Dom may want to ‘borrow’ you as a sub, or a Master might want to watch you with his slave.”

I gulped. “Okay…”

“Are you comfortable with that?” Another glance. “I’m not asking for blanket consent to anyone who asks, but are you comfortable with the whole idea?”

I chewed my lip. “I guess I won’t know until the situation presents itself.”

“Fair enough. But if you’re opposed to it, if it really makes you uncomfortable just thinking about it, tell me now.” He looked at me again, eyebrows raised.

“Would it be in front of a whole group? Out in the open?”

He shrugged. “It could be. Or it could be in a private room.”

“If I went into a private room with another Dom, would you be there?”

“If you want me to be, yes.”

“I do.”

He glanced at me again. “You’d rather not be alone with another Dom?”

“Is that okay?”

He squeezed my leg gently. “Of course it is. I just want to know where the boundaries are.” He smiled at me, then returned his attention to the road. “You might find yourself in some unusual situations tonight. It would be next to impossible for me to tell you everything that could happen, but I’m telling you right now, you don’t have to do anything. You have your safe words, and any Dom who values his membership—or the ability to chew his food—will honor them without a second’s hesitation.”

“Scott, are you suggesting you’d resort to physical violence to defend my honor?”

“Honor?” He snorted. “Woman, you’re with me.
What
honor?”

“Point taken.”

“You weren’t supposed to agree with that.”

“Too late.”

“Bitch.” He shot me a playful glare. “Anyway, in all seriousness, it wouldn’t come down to that. He’d be booted out of the club before I could even ball a fist.”

“But if it did come down to that, would—”

“In a heartbeat.” His voice was completely devoid of humor, and his protectiveness made my stomach flutter. There was nothing territorial or possessive about him, just the assurance that he wasn’t about to let me get hurt.

He squeezed my leg once again, then returned his hand to the wheel. “So, you’re okay with the idea of playing with another Dom or sub if the opportunity presents itself?”

“I’m not opposed to it.”

He shot me a grin. “Good. Just remember, you can always say no or use one of your safe words.”

About an hour after he picked me up, we pulled up to the club.

The “club” wasn’t a club at all, but a house. A mansion, to be specific. It was a massive place, situated in the middle of a huge chunk of forested acreage. Secluded. Private. Perfect.

Scott parked in a gravel lot between a half-rusted Chevy pickup and a glossy black Mercedes Benz. There weren’t a lot of other cars yet, but he’d told me on the way that we’d be getting there early to attend the newcomers’ orientation. Apparently it was mandatory for first time visitors to the club, and although Scott was hardly a newcomer, he went with me.

Inside, we joined a few other casually dressed people around a massive table in what I assumed was, in a previous life, a dining room.

Like all orientations, it was boring as hell. All it needed was a Death-by-PowerPoint presentation and everyone in the room would’ve likely slipped into a collective coma. Most of the information I’d already gained from Scott: “no” means “no”, safe words are sacred, misconduct wouldn’t be tolerated, blah, blah, blah. Valuable information to have, of course, but presented in a bland, boring package.

When it was finally over, we were dismissed to join the more experienced members, who were slowly arriving and congregating in the rest of the house.

There were locker rooms across the hall from the orientation. Since most of us had arrived in street clothes, we went into the locker rooms to change into whatever we’d brought for the night’s fun and frivolity.

In the mostly empty women’s locker room, I changed into the outfit Scott had selected.

Glancing in the full length mirror, I bit my lip as nerves tightened my chest. My skirt was made of shiny black leather, just like the straps on my stiletto heels and probably covering about as much skin. It was one thing to wear something like this for Scott or Matt. It was another to walk out into a room full of people I didn’t know.

I liked the corset, though. It was burgundy with black laces in the front, and gave me a little extra cleavage. I smiled to myself. After owning it for almost three years, I finally got to wear it. I’d known someone would appreciate the damned thing eventually, and if Scott’s expression was any indication when I’d tried it on last night, appreciate it he did.

Still, I wasn’t quite sure about parading myself around like this in front of a bunch of strangers. Second thoughts pulled my chest and stomach even tighter than the laces on my corset.

Meeting my own eyes in the mirror again, I took a deep breath. I fussed with the laces, my skirt, my hair. Finally, I steeled myself against my uncertainty and stepped out of the locker room.

The hallway was empty and quiet. Beyond a pair of ornate double doors, there was muffled activity: murmuring voices, shuffling and clicking footsteps, clinking glasses and chains. My nervous mind tried to picture the sources of all the sounds, but I had a feeling this wasn’t just a run-of-the-mill dinner party. I had no idea what to expect.

A door opened behind me, and I turned just as Scott came out of the locker room. My body temperature soared. For the first time since we’d started this little arrangement, he not only played the part of a Dom, he
looked
the part. From the waist down, he wore black leather, right down to his boots. From the waist up, nothing but familiar black ink.

“You look,” he said, pausing as he looked me up and down, “fucking amazing.”

“So do you.”

He grinned and nodded toward the door. “Ready?”

“I think so.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“I’m nervous,” I said. “But, ready.”

“You’ll be fine.” He gave me a reassuring smile and kissed me lightly, sliding his hand up into my hair. “Just remember your safe words.”

“I will.”

He kissed me again. “Then what are we waiting for?” Before I could speak, he twisted my hair into his fist and forced me to my knees. “You’ll obey every command I give you tonight, am I understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” My hands and voice shook. The more I played the submissive, the more I realized that nothing in the world turned me on more than being at Scott’s mercy.

A couple of women came out of the locker room and strolled past us without so much as a backwards glance. The noise in the other room crescendoed momentarily, then dropped back down to a muted murmur with the thud of the door, leaving me with nothing but my thundering pulse and Scott’s low, calm voice.

“Just like any other night, I am your Master,” he said. “You are my submissive. Disobey me and there will be consequences. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“If I put another Dom in command, you will obey him or her as well. Disobeying them is the same as disobeying me. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He released my hair. “Get up.”

I scrambled to my feet, wobbling slightly on shaking knees and stiletto heels.

With a single nod, he indicated the double doors. I took one of the elaborate handles and pulled the door open, holding it for Scott to walk past. Once he’d entered the room, I followed, letting the door shut behind me with a heavy thud.

As I looked around, my heart pounded beneath the burgundy corset. I was in a completely alien world. Just like I had when I’d walked into Club Nine with Matt, I suddenly felt ridiculous for having been concerned about being dressed like this in front of a group of strangers. If anything, I was a bit overdressed.

The room was huge, like a banquet hall or a ballroom. Elaborate crystal chandeliers bathed everything in warm amber light while the reflections of flickering candles danced and played on chains and skintight black leather.

Doms and Masters lounged on the many sofas and chaises arranged throughout the room. Some of the subs and slaves sat silently beside them, eyes and shoulders down. Others sat on the floor. One rested her head on her Master’s leg, another lay at his feet like a dog. One Domme propped her feet up on the back of her sub, who was on his hands and knees.

A Domme strode by with a crop whip resting across her shoulder and a leash wound around her other fist. At the other end of the short leash, a broad-shouldered man, easily twice her size, crawled on all fours in a leather mask and ladies’ underwear. By the fireplace, a pair of Dommes took turns spanking the bare ass of a kneeling sub while she sucked another Dom’s cock. Just a few feet away, a couple of Doms carried on a casual conversation as if there was nothing out of the ordinary.

Scott and I mingled like we were at an everyday party, not surrounded by people in leather and chains. He knew quite a few people, and introduced me around. Clarissa, the Domme with whom he often shared female subs. Jennifer, one of his former subs who’d gone on to become a slave to a Master named David.

Tara, one of Scott’s current subs, had come alone. She was on her way out of the ballroom with a red-haired, leather clad Domme, but the Domme let her stop to say hello to us for a moment. Then, with a snap of her fingers and a sharp nod, the Domme ordered Tara to follow her.

“Where are they going?” I asked.

“To one of the private rooms.” He gestured down the hall. “The ones they mentioned in the orientation, remember? Where people go to play if they don’t want to do so in front of God and everyone, or if they need equipment that’s not available out here.”

“Any chance we’ll end up in one of those rooms tonight?”

Scott grinned at me. “It’s possible. As long as you do as you’re told.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted when a male voice preceded a sudden presence beside me.

“Oh, now
this
is someone I haven’t seen before.” He was a Dom, that much was instantly obvious from the redhead cowering beside him and the arrogant, almost confrontational way he squared his shoulders.

He reached for my waist, but Scott casually stepped between us and caught his hand in a firm handshake instead.

“Victor, good to see you,” he said, and I thought he spoke through clenched teeth.

“I see you’ve brought us a new face,” Victor said. “Does she have a name?”

Scott gestured at me with his free hand, but kept a shoulder between us. “Kristen, say hello to Victor.”

“Hello, Victor,” I said quietly. Though I kept my eyes down and didn’t look at him directly, his presence triggered an unpleasant prickle of gooseflesh.

He gestured toward the young woman cowering beside him. “Slut, say hello to Scott and Kristen.”

“Hello,” came the meek whisper.

“Is that a proper greeting for your new friends,
Slut
?” he snarled. Even with Scott between us, I still drew back a little. I knew plenty of Doms and Masters used such names for their slaves and subs, but the way he said it oozed sleaze and slime.

“Hello, Scott and Kristen,” she said, a little louder this time.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Victor growled at her. Then, to Scott, he said, “This new sub of yours, she’s a beautiful one. I hope you’ll be bringing her here often.”

“If she’s comfortable, I might bring her back,” Scott growled. “But she’s new to the lifestyle, so I’d rather not overwhelm her.” For a long moment, neither of them spoke nor did they look away from each other, but the air between them was taut and icy. I held my breath, wondering how the tension between them would finally break.

“Well,” Victor said finally, clapping Scott on the shoulder before taking a step back. “Good to see you, Scott. And nice to meet you, Kristen.”

“Likewise,” I murmured.

Scott said nothing. They looked at each other for a few chilly seconds, then Victor turned and strode away, the one called Slut scurrying to keep up with him.

“Fucking dirtbag,” Scott muttered as the other Dom disappeared into the crowd.

“What’s wrong with him?”

He said nothing for a moment, just glaring in the direction Victor had gone for a moment. Then his posture relaxed and he released his breath. “He’s just a slimeball. Thinks he’s God’s gift to all things kink, but he treats his slaves and subs like shit.”