Light Switch

by Lauren Gallagher

  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 m
y 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.”

  “So I noticed.” I thought of Slut and the way she’d stood with her head and shoulders down. They were they same signs of submission every sub in the room demonstrated, myself included, but she was somehow different. “Why do they still let him in here?”

  “He’s never done enough to get himself booted out,” Scott said under his breath, “Not here at the club, anyway. All I know is, I wouldn’t let that fucker touch one of my subs for anything.” He slipped his arm around my waist and we kept walking.

  The knot in my gut unwound a little more. I’d never suspected Scott would throw me to the wolves and let just any Dom touch me, but his protectiveness reassured me I would be in good hands no matter what happened tonight.

  “Scott, good to see you.” That bold voice had an entirely different effect on me than Victor’s. He was a Dom, of that I had no doubt, and habit kept me from looking directly at him.

  “Byron, hey,” Scott said. “Haven’t seen you around lately.” They shook hands, and my downturned eyes gave me the perfect view of his long fingers and chiseled forearm.

  “Well, you know how it is. Life and all its bullshit sometimes keeps me away.”

  “I know how that goes, definitely.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as Byron shifted his attention to me. Though I couldn’t see his face, I knew he was looking at me now. Unlike Victor’s, his scrutiny—no, curiosity—didn’t make me uncomfortable. I was simply hyperaware of the fact that I was in his sights now.

  “A new sub, I see,” Byron said. “May I?”

  “Go right ahead,” Scott said.

  Byron grasped my jaw just enough to keep me from pulling away were I so inclined, and raised my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye.

  In an instant, everything about him took my breath away. His very presence was, like Scott’s, commanding, from the way he set his broad shoulders to the tightness of his lips and the narrowness of his dark eyes. His every nuance spoke of boldness bordering on arrogance, but it wasn’t off-putting in the slightest. It suited him, and in spite of our unorthodox introduction, I was neither alarmed nor nervous.

  “What’s your name?” It was more a demand than a question.

  My eyes darted toward Scott, seeking permission to speak. He gave a slow nod.

  “Kristen,” I whispered.

  Those tight lips pulled into a thin, asymmetrical smile. He looked at Scott. “Moore, where do you find these gorgeous women?”

  My face burned. Scott just smiled.

  “Why don’t you two join us?” Byron gestured toward a nearby couch.

  “Don’t mind if we do,” Scott said.

  I sat on the couch beside Scott. Byron took a seat near the end beside a collared, leather clad blonde kneeling on the floor. Once he’d taken his seat, she scooted closer, resting her head on his thigh. He ran his fingers through her long hair, and her eyes flicked up just long enough to acknowledge both Scott and me.

  Scott and Byron fell into a casual conversation. As they talked, I kept my head down, but surreptitiously watched them. I simply couldn’t look away from Byron. His long fingers mesmerized me as they absently stroked Charlotte’s hair. When I managed to look away from his fingers, I drank in the dusting of stubble across his sharply angled jaw and the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed. He was probably in his late thirties or early forties, judging by the lines on his face and hint of gray in his dark hair. Jesus, he was gorgeous. Maybe it was because he was a Dom and we were at a BDSM club, maybe it was simply his quiet, intense presence, but I had no doubt the man had a filthy side a mile wide.

  And just as I stole glances at Byron, I realized Charlotte was doing the same with Scott.

  Evidently I wasn’t the only one who noticed, because Byron suddenly grabbed her collar and barked her name.

  “Charlotte.”

  She jumped. “Yes, Sir?”

  He leaned down and pulled her head back so he could speak right into her ear, “Were you looking at him, you little slut?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She swallowed hard, whimpering softly before she whispered, “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  He pulled her head back a little more. “You want him again, don’t you?”

  Another whimper. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Well, I think he enjoyed what you did before.” Byron glanced at Scott. Then he shoved Charlotte toward him. “Go on.”

  She didn’t hesitate. She crawled across the floor to Scott and knelt in front of him. Without making eye contact, she whispered, “May I?”

  Scott ran his fingers through her hair, then lifted her chin with two fingers. “May you, what?”

  She licked her lips. Her cheeks flushed. “May I,” she hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at Byron. He nodded. To Scott, she whispered, “May I suck your cock, Sir?”

  “Yes.”

  I watched in disbelief as Charlotte unbuckled Scott’s belt and unzipped his pants. Out in the middle of the room, surrounded by dozens of people, and neither seemed to notice or care if anyone saw them.

  She stroked his cock a few times. When she leaned forward, she hesitated, glancing up at him. Scott responded with a single, slow nod, and her hesitation was gone. I couldn’t breathe when she ran her tongue around the head of his cock once, twice, three times before she took far more of him into her mouth than I thought her jaw could accommodate.

  Scott looked past me, something unreadable in his expression. After a second, he nodded. To Byron, I assumed. Then Charlotte deep-throated him, and Scott closed his eyes, exhaling through parted lips.

  A hand on my thigh made me jump. When I turned, I met Byron’s intense, dark eyes. I quickly dropped my gaze, but he raised my chin and made me look him in the eye.

  “Do I make you nervous?” he asked.

  I moistened my lips. No sense being dishonest with him. “A little, yes.” I closed my eyes and shivered as he trailed his fingertips along the side of my jaw.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.”

  “Look at me.”

  I opened my eyes, resisting the urge to look away again. Never before had I seen eyes more intense than Scott’s, but now I was looking dir
ectly into them at very, very close range.

  He inclined his head slightly, twin creases forming between his eyebrows. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked again.

  I swallowed. “No.”

  The frown faded, replaced by a devilish, asymmetrical smirk. “Somehow, I didn’t think you would.” With that, he leaned forward and kissed me. He was a complete stranger, someone with whom I’d exchanged no more than a handful of words, but his lips met mine with all the bold familiarity of a longtime lover. His kiss was neither hesitant nor passive, and it certainly wasn’t gentle or tender, but at the same time, it wasn’t overbearing or demanding. This is how I’m going to kiss you, his lips and tongue said, and you will like it.

  And I did like it.

  When we separated, he watched my eyes as he ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of his lip. Then he glanced down at his fingertips trailing along my forearm, and when our eyes met again, the smirk was back. Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes as he touched the goose bumps he’d created on my skin. He was responsible for every last one of them and he knew it.

  Even with his cocky amusement and his unapologetic kiss, one thing was undeniable: he was completely in control. Just like Scott, he was in control no matter how turned on he was, and everything he did was a deliberate, calculated method of conveying that message.

  He leaned in again, this time dipping his head to kiss my neck. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head to the side to grant him better access, feeling oddly like I was offering up my throat to a vampire. He didn’t sink his teeth in, though. His lips found all those deliciously sensitive places—just above my collarbone, right below my ear, the underside of my jaw—that made my nipples harden beneath my corset.

  I looked at Scott.

  Our eyes met. I squirmed in my seat. Byron’s lips and stubble against my skin made me tremble, watching Charlotte go down on Scott made my mouth water, but it was that look in my Master’s eyes, that horny, hungry look, that drove me wild. I licked my lips. A grin flickered across his face.

  Then his expression hardened and he nodded toward Byron. “Suck his cock.”

  My heart skipped. “Sir?”