Twice the Touch (2 page)

Maybe I'm not blameless. I like to think I'm good at reading people, but I
clearly failed with my own wife, and by the time I'd caught on to her manipulating ways, it was too late. I grew to resent her quickly, and I stopped loving her along the way.

Regardless, I didn’t manipulate her into shit. I didn’t mention anything about her job, either—when she wanted to quit working as a paralegal to stay home, I supported her.

Alexa wasn't quite as supportive. She showed her distaste for my choice of being a bartender. I lost count of the times she told me to join the family business—become a lawyer. The fact that I have my own company, too, never mattered to her.

The final nail in the coffin was when
she told me she wanted to move to the East Coast. Just like that. On a whim. A fresh start.
"It could be fun, Mark."
No, thank you. I was born and raised here. My family is here. My friends, my job… When I said no, she gave me the ultimatum. Move or divorce.

In retrospect, her abrupt demand to move could've been her own way of saying she wanted
to end it. Why she didn’t just come out and say it beats me. By the time we signed the papers, I was beyond caring. I needed it all to be over. But she must've known I wouldn’t leave the Bay Area. It would make sense, I suppose, because the divorce was swift, and she didn’t make any ridiculous demands.

So, that was that for me
. Divorced. Thirty-four years old. A Dom who only scenes without attachment.

Taking a closer peek at the mirror, I try to see if I can spot another gray hair in my dark mess, but nothing yet. I'm due for another buzz soon, though, 'cause I like it short. An inch is a bit too long. My brother's wife cut it for me last time, and I remember my niece saying,
"So, you wanna go halfsies on the inch, Uncle Mark? Mommy, cut halfsies."
I grin to myself. Maybe that niece of mine will say something funny tomorrow at Sunday dinner with the family.

Taking a step back, I survey myself as I dry my hands on a paper towel. For work, I'm always in jeans, a black
T-shirt, and the leather cuff on my wrist that shows the Switch logo, but when I play, I usually wear my well-worn leathers and…well, nothing else—except for boots. But this'll have to do for now, I suppose. There's no time to change.

Whatever
.

Simon told me the couple is new to
BDSM, so as I cross the Cave, I mentally prepare myself. I'll speak calmly, softly, but firmly. I'll study both the sub and the Dom. I'll make sure to have his attention when I interact with the little one. I'll make sure she's comfortable being restrained. I'll ask about her limits. The list goes on.

Just as I reach the stall, Simon pushes the curtain aside to exit. "Ah, there you are. I've already told them you're going to offer assistance." He holds
open the curtain. "Do you want me to be here, too?"

I shake my head no and let the fabric close off the outside world.

Chapter 2

Fastened to the X-shaped cross, a lovely little br
unette gazes at me with big, dark brown eyes. I'd say she's in her early twenties. A heart-shaped face, soft-looking lips, and a slightly upturned nose.
Gorgeous
. She gulps and shoots an almost panicked look to the man beside me, but I'm not focusing on him yet. My main priority is the one who's cuffed—always. Her skin is pale, flawlessly smooth, and she's completely naked. Full, round tits, rosy nipples, a slender waist, and nice, curvy hips. A bare little pussy. Exquisite legs, dainty feet—not a scar in sight. Also not in sight: any trace of arousal or excitement.

I approach her with slow, measured steps, and the first thing
s I check are her bindings. With her arms raised so high, it's not good to have her restrained for too long, but it's looking good here. Simon has undoubtedly checked already.

"Not too tight?" I gently wrap my fingers around her left wrist, noticing the different wristbands she's wearing. Green for being approachable by other Doms, blue for partaking in
scenes—which means the drink limit is in effect, and yellow for being new.

These wristbands are a new concept at Switch, and I definit
ely approve of them. They guarantee a certain amount of safety for everyone.

"N-no," she stammers in a soft voice, "they're good."

I raise a brow at her and clasp my hands behind my back.

"Sir," she adds hastily.

"There's a good girl," I murmur. "What's your name, kitten?"

She swallows before exhaling shakily. "Evangeline, Sir."

Beautiful
. With a slight nod in acknowledgment, I turn to her Dom and see a man who certainly doesn’t look like a Dom, and it has nothing to do with physical appearance. He's a handsome young man—in his mid-twenties, I'd say—but he doesn’t carry himself confidently. He's not as broad-shouldered or muscular as I am, but he's definitely built. Instead of lifting weights, I imagine him doing laps in a pool. He's fairly tall, too—perhaps a few inches shorter than my six four. Narrow hips. Dark hair, wavy and untamed, styled to belong to a surfer or skateboarder. Sharp jaw, straight nose, and pale green eyes. It's the vulnerability in those eyes…

Biting his thumbnail doesn’t help him
project confidence, either.

"Name?" I
cock my head at him and note the clothes he's wearing: brand new leather pants and a dark red T-shirt. Doc Martens, also brand new. He doesn’t look comfortable.

"Brayden
, S—" His
Sir
is on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t verbalize it. He managed to cut off the sentence just before.
Interesting
.

"How long have you been with Evangeline?" I ask, giving the girl a smile.

"Um, three years."

So, the trust is already there. Angling myself toward Evangeline again, I brush my knuckles down her ribs, enjoying the way her skin pebbles under my touch. "Am I allowed to touch her intimately, Brayden?" I keep my eyes on the girl. The green wristband tells me she's approachable, but her "Dom" is still in charge. He decides how far I'm allowed to go.

"Yes. We t-talked about it." He's nervous. And flustered. "We, uh, we need help…I guess. I mean, we're new."

I withhold my smile. "I've noticed." Studying Evangeline's face, I reach up and
twirl a strand of her shoulder-length hair around my finger, ending with a little tug. Her pupils dilate as she stares up at me. "Such a pretty little kitten." I brush the pad of my thumb over her bottom lip. The tip of her tongue darts out, and I chuckle lowly. "Oh, you want this, don’t you?" I don’t wait for an answer. "Do you know your safewords?"

"Red
to stop, Sir. Yellow if it's becoming too much, and green if it's…all good."

All good. That’s one way of putting it. I grin.
"Good girl. Don’t be afraid to use them." Taking a step back, I motion for Brayden to join me. He does, and I position him so he's right in front of me. "Now. The DM told me dominating isn't easy for you, Brayden—that you asked little Evangeline here what to do next."

"I'm not really a Dom," he mumbles.

I squeeze his shoulder. "I know. But I'm glad you told me." Honesty is the key. My guess is that they want to pursue this lifestyle but can't agree on who to be top and bottom. The most confident man on earth may want to be bossed around behind closed doors; it's fairly common. A CEO, for example, has to carry a lot of responsibility by day, so when he comes home, perhaps he wants someone else to take over. "Tell me more about your arrangement." I presume they have one. Brayden tries to turn, but I stop him by holding his shoulders in place, and I keep my hands there. "No. Watch Evangeline instead."

"Okay." He releases a breath. "Uh, we've talked about this for about a year. We want to try it, but we're both pretty, um…"

"Submissive," I finish. I see the tips of his ears tinting red, and I don’t like that at all. "Don’t be embarrassed." To loosen him up, make him relax, I rub his shoulders. It's mainly to get a better read on him—to see how he reacts to my touch—but also to reassure. "Just because you're a man doesn’t mean you have to be in charge. Understand?"

"Yes…" Another breath. "Sir."

I smile, seeing Evangeline's reaction to her boyfriend's final word—or title, rather. Excitement is building up in her eyes, slowly but surely, and Brayden's not the only one letting go. She is, too.

"Go on," I coax.

"Right." He clears his throat. "We eventually agreed to switch every once in a while. So, I'm the dominant one sometimes…"

"And you're both comfortable with this decision?" I ask.

They hesitate to respond, and I'm not surprised. They've compromised. They love each other—that’s clear from their expressions—and any sensible human being in a relationship knows that you have to compromise at times. But these two don’t
have
to…so long as they're willing to let someone else dominate them both. There are several Doms and Dommes here who have more than one sub.

I never shared when I was with Alexa,
and the occasion hasn't arisen since our separation, but I'd done it a few times before I met her. It's challenging but twice as rewarding.

"No need to answer," I say and change tactics. This isn't about teaching Brayden the first steps on
how to touch his sub anymore, because they're both submissives. "First rule: I want honesty and complete answers unless yes or no is enough." With a small nudge, I shift Brayden to the side so we're both in front of Evangeline. "So, is this your first time in a BDSM club?"

"Yes, Sir," they reply.

I barely manage to withhold my wince. Their first time at a fetish club and they head straight for the cross?
Jesus Christ
. "Have you played at home?"

"Yes, Sir."

"With restraints?" I arch a brow at Brayden. "Bondage?"

It takes longer to answer this time, and when they do
, they say no, though Evangeline seems to remember something and quickly mentions that she's tied Brayden down once.

Once
.

No wonder
Simon didn’t want them to leave. They're both fucking hazards.

"I see. And what was the plan here?" I wave a hand at the cross. "You must've had a scene in mind." Caressing Evangeline's soft cheek,
I tell her to answer.

She shivers. "We…" She trails off, distracted
as I let my hand slowly slide down her neck. "We—we wanted to try flogging."

My fingers curl themselves loosely around her throat. "Is this something you've done before?" My words come out a little rougher, anger boiling up. But I mask it, and I'd never dole out chastisement while angry.

"No, Sir," they mumble, both sounding nervous.

"Well.
" I push down my urge to paddle their asses for being irresponsible and surge forward. "Brayden, tell me what you
have
done."

"We've used toys." His voice nearly cracks. "
Um—"

"Stop with the
'um's," I command softly. "Take a deep breath and relax."

As he obeys and inhales deeply, I take a step forward and
place my hands below Evangeline's breasts. Her breathing hitches, and then again when I ghost my thumbs along the undersides of her…I'd say C-cups. Very nice.

"Vibrators, beads, dildos…"
Brayden's voice is huskier now. Quieter, too. "Plugs, blindfolds—she gagged me once, the time she tied me to the bed. And she likes it when I spank her."

I tense my jaw and let my hands fall to my sides.
"Did you ever use a safeword at home?"

"We trust each other—"

"Not what I asked, Brayden." Under my glare, he shrinks visibly and lowers his gaze as he whispers a no.
Deep breaths
. I return to Evangeline, ready to teach them something important. But first I need to calm down and make sure they're comfortable. "Will you allow me to do a scene with you?" I ask. "I will only use a flogger."

"
Yes
, Sir." She's almost pleading.

Turning to Brayden, I wait for his response. He's part of
this, too.

"Yes, Sir." He nods quickly.
"Please."

Well, then.

"I want you to sit down over there." I point to the black leather ottoman in the corner near the curtain. Next I walk behind the cross and pick one of the softer floggers, wishing I could run out and get my own suede one. "And, Brayden?" I speak over my shoulder. "Clothes off." He won't be treated any differently than Evangeline.

"All of them?" he blurts out.

I turn to him and stare.

He gulps. "I mean…yes, Sir."

"Good pet." With the flogger's handle stuck down into the back pocket of my jeans, I step in front of Evangeline once more. She has her eyes on her undressing boyfriend, but when I snap my fingers, her wide-eyed gaze meets mine. "So beautiful." I touch her cheek. "Are you comfortable?" She replies that she is, and I push the tip of my thumb into her mouth. "Suck." I clench my teeth together, my pants feeling tighter, as she swirls her tongue around my thumb and starts to suck. Seductive little subbie. "Now…" I force myself to create some distance. "Something we take very seriously is 'safe, sane, and consensual'—same goes for honesty. If we're not honest with each other, there won't be any trust. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Evangeline answers, and I look to my side and hear Brayden say the same words
, also confirming that they've read about that. As instructed, he's sitting naked on the ottoman, hands gripping the edge of the leather cushion, and a semi-hard cock between his thighs.

Okay,
maybe he's more than "handsome."

I'm attracted to him, too.

"But there's more." I go on and face Evangeline as I pull out the flogger. "A lot more." I run the black ends of the flogger over my hand, between my fingers, pleased at the little kitten's reaction. Definitely aroused. "For instance, always use a safeword—even if you've been in a relationship for years." That said, I flick my wrist and let the leather strands make impact on Evangeline's left thigh.

"Fuck!" she cries out.

Brayden's breathing picks up.

Evangeline's chest heaves with each breath, a blush creeping forward, pupils dilating again, and hands balling into fists
in her restraints. She's more than all right. It's written all over her gorgeous body.

"Another rule: don’t cut off any senses when restrained." I flog her again, this time her other thigh, and she cries out once more. "Not when you're new," I amend. "You might not think that gagging is anything serious, but it is if you can't move and you suddenly have a panic attack."

There are hand signals, squeeze toys, bells…anything to substitute a safeword—it's fucking vital. The next time the flogger's strands whip through the air, they come down on her hip, a couple stray ones landing over the bare mound of her pussy.

Evangeline chokes on a moan; Brayden groans under his breath.
One glance at him tells me he's struggling to keep his hands off his straining cock.
Good boy
. He obviously knows he needs my permission to touch himself.

Several
lashes later, they're both panting. Evangeline's skin has reddened; I know she's very sensitive now. By the look of her wet pussy and constricted nipples, I also know she's desperate for an orgasm. She keeps trying to rub her thighs together, but with her restrained ankles, that’s impossible.

"Mark?"
Damn.
Simon
. On the other side of the curtain.

"
What
?" I wipe my brow, hoping he'll disappear quickly. I hate interrupting a scene; it ruins the moment for the subs. Hell, it ruins it for me, too. When I'm in the middle of a scene, I pay attention to only my sub.
Subs
in this case. Not the blaring Goth music. Not the screams of pain and pleasure around me. Not the crack of any whip.