Switch

by Desiree Holt

The rest of her words were lost in a ragged gasp as he resumed his spanking, harder and faster now. She barely had time to register one blow before a second landed, and her arms trembled as she struggled to stay upright. The new onslaught was mercifully short, leaving her breathless and burning for more, yet grateful for the respite.

  “Drop down to your elbows if it will make you more comfortable.”

  Nina did, feeling as if her butt was stuck up even higher in the air now. She rested her forehead against the mattress and her forearms flat on the bed, readying herself for more.

  By this point, her ass was as warm as her cunt, and as he squeezed her buttocks she hissed at the slight soreness that accompanied the heat.

  “You do warm up nicely, my slut. Are you ready for more?”

  “Mmm…” She tensed as his touch trailed off, waiting for the next set of spanks.

  Instead of a slapping hand, she felt a hard, flat edge of something she couldn’t identify slide between her thighs, rubbing up over her soaked labia through her panties. She instinctively pressed down, trying to grind her clit against it, but Jon withdrew it before she could work up more than a slight friction.

  “Did I tell you you could try to frig yourself against my ruler?”

  Ruler. Of course. Having a name for the smooth instrument just gave her mind more visual cues, turning her on even further. “No, Sir.”

  “Apologise.”

  She wasn’t sorry, not one tiny bit. If he’d just give her overheated cunt another taste of the cool plastic, she’d do it all again. But she lied, knowing it was expected of her. “Sorry, Sir.”

  “Liar,” he accused affectionately, and gave her an upward spank with the ruler, right over her aching clit.

  It wasn’t as severe as the spanks to her ass, but it was a much more sensitised area. A flare of pleasure and a barely-there sting of pain hit Nina simultaneously, and she gasped and writhed, seeking more stimulation from the ruler he’d withdrawn.

  “Oh, that was beautiful. Just beautiful. Do you want more, slut?”

  “Anything,” she murmured. “Please, Sir…”

  He gave her cunt a second upward spank, not letting the ruler linger against her flesh—it impacted sharply and was gone before she could press against it. The sting was more intense, but so was the wave of cunt-tightening need.

  “Oh, fuck, I—”

  The third spank left her mind spinning, her fingers digging into the bedspread, her legs shaking. The fourth was nearly too much, and she half sobbed, searching for the right words to persuade him to make the tingling, aching sting into a climax she would never forget. “I need more. I need you, Sir, please…”

  The sound of the ruler being set down on the nightstand made her stomach sink.

  “Control yourself, you filthy girl. You can take much more than that, I know it.”

  Within a couple of seconds the intensity of her need had faded to a level she could stand. He was right—she could take more, but the slut within her screamed out for the orgasm she’d almost had.

  “Please, Sir, make me come.”

  The only response was silence, and she listened hard for any sign that he would honour her request. She could hear his unsteady breaths in the stillness, knew he could feel the pure want that pulsed through her body. Was he hard right now? Would he unzip, wriggle out of his tight jeans, join her on the bed? Would the next thing she felt between her thighs be his warm, hard cock rubbing over her panties, just a thin layer of cloth between his aroused body and hers?

  “Have you earned that privilege yet, my slut?”

  He leaned past her, picked up the ruler again—or so she inferred from the noise. Her eyes were still closed, her ass still in the air.

  “I don’t know, Sir. Have I?” Her voice sounded fragile, needy. More of her juices soaked her panties. Had she ever been this turned on before?

  Chapter Five

  “Not quite.”

  Before she could respond, Jon began to tap her well-spanked ass with the ruler—five quick strikes on each cheek, then the same on the other, then back. Nina gasped at the culmination of each set as the sting built to a tactile crescendo, then faded again even as it blossomed on the other cheek.

  It was almost too much—knowing that the pain would get steadily worse before it got better, and that the relief would be brief. After only a few sets, she was almost ready to cry out for mercy, her shoulders tensing as she held her breath.

  “Breathe, beautiful.”

  Jon set aside the ruler and pressed both cool, soothing palms to her burning buttocks, firmly stroking away the pain. Nina felt her pulse throbbing through the inflamed skin as the sensations faded, and she slowly relaxed, her muscles uncoiling.

  He picked up something else and, as he trailed the many tails of a flogger across her ass, she shifted with uneasy anticipation. Spanking was one thing, but being hit with an implement that had been created for that very purpose…

  With a hand on the small of her back, he reassured her into stillness.

  “I’ll start slow. Remember to breathe, and you’ll be fine.”

  Nina braced herself and nodded.

  The first slap of the flogger’s tails against her left buttock was so soft that she almost burst into nervous laughter. The breeze created by the blow seemed more threatening than the sensation as it landed.

  Almost immediately, the second blow hit her right cheek, a little stronger. Another to the left followed, with more confidence, making her breath hitch with its heavier, thud-like impact—whatever his technique was, it must have relied on building up momentum.

  Then she lost the ability to analyse the situation as the blows came fast and hard, each accompanied by the rhythmic slap, slap, slap of the flogger’s tails. She fell into his rhythm, the almost-predictability of his strikes on alternating cheeks or the back of each thigh in turn, the pain blooming and fading each time. When she could breathe through the blows without difficulty, had begun to relax into the activity and enjoy herself, Jon stopped.

  Surprising herself, Nina let out a tiny whimper of protest, and he gave a quiet laugh in response, smoothing his palms over the curves of her ass.

  “Don’t worry, slut. I’m not finished with you yet.”

  She smiled reflexively, then was glad that her curtain of hair hid the expression.

  After a brief pause, Jon picked up the flogger again. Nina readied herself for more of the same, certain she knew what was coming.

  Something rattled. Suddenly on edge once more, Nina tensed.

  The cry tore from her lips as a solitary stroke landed, shock and pain mingling within her at the unexpected savagery of the sting.

  “Breathe,” Jon reminded her softly, and she sucked in a shaky breath, let it go, then drew in another.

  He gave her a second taste of the new flogger—the rattling noise that accompanied each impact made her sure it wasn’t the same one. She was ready for it now and, though it still hurt, the burn that came with it was sweeter, cutting into the warmth radiating through her backside.

  After a few slow strikes, Jon picked up the pace again. Nina balled her hands into fists where they rested against the bedcovers, breathing as deeply as she could manage, relishing the agony of each new blow. It was as though she were hypnotised by the pain, and after a while it grew easier to bear—or was he getting tired, not hitting as hard? It was difficult to tell.

  Time seemed to become viscous, and she took each moment as it came, waded through it as if it were a lake of treacle. She didn’t feel quite connected to herself, and at the back of her mind she knew that was probably something she should be worried about, but Sir wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She trusted him. He knew her better than she knew herself.

  The pain and pleasure, which had dominated her mind before now, seemed distant. She could still feel the impact of the flogger, hear the rattling, but the pain was an afterthought, and she was too disconnected to register sexual arousal at that moment.

  Weird, she t
hought distantly, and let herself drift, fascinated by this new high she’d come upon.

  After a while—she had no idea how long—Sir set the flogger aside and began to rub the sting from her flaming buttocks with cool fingers. Vaguely, she noticed the implement in her peripheral vision—each strand of the flogger had a small metal bead attached to the end of it.

  Well, that explains the noise…

  “Lie down. Come on.” His voice came to her as if from a great distance, and she couldn’t quite comprehend the meaning behind the familiar syllables.

  Sir guided her down onto her stomach, helping her to stretch out each leg as she lay there in a trance. The world seemed to spin, and she could hardly feel the bed beneath her or determine which way was up. She felt floaty, as if she had risen up off the mattress, her body lighter than air. Slowly, the pain began to return, but it was remote, almost an afterthought for now. This was like nothing she’d ever felt. Wonderful and distantly terrifying at the same time.

  “Good girl.” He lay beside her and she opened her eyes to look into his face. He was smiling, and she smiled back. If he’d asked her to tell him her name, or his, she couldn’t have found it at that particular moment, but that was okay because she knew and trusted him. He was Sir. She was his slut. Nothing else mattered.

  “Tell me what you want, my slut.”

  That was easy enough. “I want whatever you want, Sir.”

  He ran his hand through her hair, his gaze intent on her face. “And I want to know what my slut needs.”

  Nina frowned, slightly irritated. She didn’t want to think for herself—it made the floatiness recede when she tried to think of her own desires.

  He took her in his arms, and with a faraway thrill of arousal she realised he had stripped naked before he had lain down. His skin was warm against hers, and she snuggled into the embrace, drawing comfort from his body heat, grounded a little as her lust flared back into immediacy.

  She arched her back, pressing her bra-covered breasts against his chest and sighing at the unwanted barrier between them. “Sir…”

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “Take off my bra, Sir, please?”

  Jon reached around to her bra clasp and unhooked it after a momentary fumble. She slid the garment down her arms, then discarded it, her face heating at the feel of his gaze on her exposed breasts.

  “Look at you.” He guided her upright to straddle his lap, then cupped her breasts with his hands, pushing them up and deepening her cleavage. His rough caresses set her nerves aflame and she gasped, rubbing her clit against his hard-on.

  “Do you like them sucked?” Jon asked.

  She nodded, knowing she must be blushing.

  “How about pinched and bitten, slut of mine?”

  Anticipation and anxiety churned through her stomach. “I…don’t know, Sir.”

  “We’ll find out,” he told her, his lips so close to hers that she ached for his kiss. He dipped his head, though, and she leant back in his arms to allow him easier access to her hard nipples.

  He took one in his mouth, flicking his tongue against it, and she sighed, letting her head fall back as he put his skilled mouth to work. When he began to suck, gently at first, she felt pleasure pool in her cunt, increasing with every tug of suction. Without warning, he bit down, hard enough to hurt, and she gave a shocked yell, savouring the pain that contrasted so beautifully with her pleasure.

  Jon raised his head to check her reaction, and she kissed him hard, clutching his shoulders. He returned the kiss with a fire that made her breathless. Then, still dominating her lips, he pinched the nipple he’d yet to tease, rolling it between his fingertips, pulling, then squeezing hard.

  Nina’s yelp of agonised pleasure was lost in his mouth, and she dug her fingernails into Jon’s shoulders. He released her nipple and broke away from her lips to watch her gasp as the pain slowly faded.

  “Problem, slut?” The amusement in his voice almost undid her.

  She shook her head, and he spilled her from his lap onto the bed with a grin, then stood up. Nina stretched out on her back, stretching her limbs to all four corners of the bed and trying to gain control of herself.

  Jon picked up a pair of leather wrist cuffs and returned to her side. “Give me your arm.”

  While she offered one arm, then the other, he buckled the heavy-duty cuffs around her wrists. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes, Sir.” It was so obvious, she could hardly believe he was asking the question.

  Jon picked up a double-ended steel clip and brushed the cold metal across her nipples. The chilly sensation made her squirm and give a breathless laugh.

  “Arms over your head, then, my slut.”

  Obediently, Nina raised her arms and grasped a couple of loops in the ornate, wrought-iron headboard. The better to handcuff you to, my dear. She bit back a smile as he clipped the cuffs together around one of the curved iron bars, and couldn’t help but test how securely she was tethered when he sat back to study his handiwork.

  She was bound fast, and a rush of arousal dampened her cunt still further as she realised that, for the first time, she was completely at his mercy. If she wanted to stop the scene, she’d be relying on Sir to release her.

  “Do I need to tie those pretty legs of yours, too? Or will you keep them spread open wide for me?”

  Taking the hint, she spread her legs wider, making herself even more vulnerable to him. The headspace she’d fallen into had obliterated her reservations, her usual self-consciousness, even her need to be in control of every situation. She surrendered to him entirely, closing her eyes.

  “I’ll behave, Sir.”

  He laughed softly. “That’s my girl.”

  The mattress dipped a little as he settled his weight onto it. Then Jon eased his fingers under the waistband of her thong, and she caught her breath as he pulled the soaked cloth down her legs and off.

  “Spread those legs again.”

  Nina obeyed slowly, swallowing a moan when Jon skimmed his fingertips up the insides of her thighs.

  “You really have been getting off on this, haven’t you, slut?”

  She opened her eyes to watch him watching her. His expression was predatory—almost ravenous—in a way that made her whimper.

  “I…” She couldn’t find the words to express her craving, the way her cunt was practically ember-hot, just waiting for the fuel that would kindle it into an inferno of sensation. Instead, she nodded.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  He was going to make her say it? Seriously?

  “I want you to get me off, Sir.”

  Jon raised an eyebrow. “How?”

  She stared at him, uncomprehending, struggling to think as he stroked the very tips of his fingers over her aching cunt.

  “Don’t make me ask again.” He slapped his hand down abruptly on her mons, and she gasped, tilting her hips up in the hope that his next slap would hit her clit.

  “Like that, Sir!”

  He gave her an impassive stare, but she sensed surprise behind the façade. “Like this?”

  The next slap was right where she craved it—more of a thud than a sting, right on the flesh that hid her clit from sight, and he left his hand there afterwards. She gave a soft moan, rubbing against his fingers as hard as she could, and he withdrew, examining the wet streak she had left on his hand.

  “Are you sure? I was hoping to taste that pretty little cunt of yours.”

  Nina trembled at the thought of his tongue between her legs. He could spank her just right, and she knew she’d get off if he continued, but the enticing unknown of him licking her until she screamed was just as seductive. “Please, Sir…”

  “You can’t make up your mind, can you?” He spanked her cunt again, then again. “I guess you’ll have to try it both ways.”

  Before she could process that, he resumed his spanks—light and fast, then harder as she began to arch up into each blow with a cry. The pleasure was too great for her to
register the pain, and with every new spank the feeling increased until she was hot, trembling and wrenching at her wrist cuffs, desperate for release.

  Jon murmured something to her, but she was past comprehending, shaking and moaning and clinging to sanity by a thread, and all she needed was just a little more, more, more…

  His next spank undid her. She shuddered with the force of her climax, her cunt clenching hard, the almost painful build-up of pressure releasing in strong, rhythmic spasms until she could do nothing but sprawl there on the mattress, relaxed and breathless and hypersensitive in the afterglow.

  Jon didn’t wait for her to recover. He dipped his head between her legs, giving her a long, hard lick that lingered over her clit. The feeling was too intense for her to bear—she gasped for air, bucking against his face, unsure whether she needed more or whether she was looking for a respite.

  He lifted his head. “Stay still, slut, or I will tie those legs.”

  Whimpering, Nina clutched the headboard and did her best to stay still. His warm tongue fluttered and swirled against her clit, coaxing an entirely different kind of arousal from her. From post-orgasmic bliss, he rapidly licked her towards desperation again, until her thighs shook beneath his hands with the effort to keep still.

  “I need… Oh, God, Sir, I…”

  Jon slid one finger inside her drenched folds, penetrating her easily, and she had tilted her hips to welcome him deeper before she could stop herself. The reprimand she’d been expecting didn’t come—instead, he pulled almost all the way out then brought a second finger in to join the first. Nina sighed her approval, giving herself over to the slow, slick thrusts of his hand, the light flicks of his tongue that sent shivers through her.

  He teased her sweet spot, curling his fingers just right, and she murmured wordless encouragement, her body coiling with tension as the pleasure built and built. She trembled on the precipice, holding her breath, becoming utterly still for a couple of heartbeats that felt like eternity, afraid to move in case the building ecstasy began to fade instead of cresting.

  Her nerves sang out relief as the climax surged through her, overwhelming her senses with strong pulses of blissful release. Jon continued to finger her through her orgasm, prolonging the intensity, not withdrawing until the final waves had ebbed and she had begun to catch her breath.