The Switch

You couldn't make Samara play with you, she had to want it. She wasn't the sort of woman who gave sexual favours out like candy, or who'd gratify you because she thought you were a nice person. She did things on her terms; if she wanted, when she wanted, and how she wanted.

She strode into the room wearing a red latex dress, fishnets and heels. Her long dark hair fell down her back, and her breasts jutted out invitingly. Behind her, on a leash, was her boy. He was on the short side for a man, but with a lithe, well kept frame, and he was dressed entirely in leather; black motorcycle boots, black leather bondage outfit, black leather gloves and a mask. His head was bowed, and as they made their way across the room to talk to friends of hers, not once did he look up.

Val sipped his glass of red and tried to ignore the stirring in his jeans. He'd requested on numerous occasions that she let him play with them, and on each occasion, she'd declined him.

They were at a private party, hosted by a local businessman whose wife had some left-of-centre preferences. The venue was magnificent; a large, modern house with marble floors, beautiful landscaping, and the kind of ambience that allowed all manner of wild and wonderful things to occur. And wonderful things did occur on closed invitation nights; sex and play and swinging that went well beyond what more regimented hosts would allow.

It was the kind of event where you never knew quite how the night would end. It was also the kind of event that single men were rarely invited to, and Valery found himself continually tested as he forced himself to 'behave'.

'You still have a hard on for her?' Oliver asked, bemused, following his gaze. In the real world, Oliver was a thirty-something cop. A damn good-looking cop, mind you, and one who made women pant, but a cop all the same. Someone who needed the privacy their host offered.

At Oliver's feet sat his wife, plump, blonde, and dressed in a scarlet silk dress. She wouldn't say or do a thing unless he instructed her, and, on the flipside, she'd do anything and everything he requested. The perfect submissive for a man who liked absolute control.

'I have a hard on for everything,' Val admitted, shifting his glass from one hand to the other. 'Masturbation stopped cutting it three months ago.'

Oliver sniggered with the satisfaction of a man who didn't know what it was like to be deprived. Val wanted to choke the smug look off his face. His whole body was tense, and his temper was getting shorter by the day. Sexual frustration was a bitch of a thing to deal with.

A leather clad hand grabbed his arm. The grip was surprisingly strong, and Val could feel tiny steel bumps pressing against his bicep. The palms of the gloves must have been studded.

'She wants you,' the boy said.

Val glanced at Oliver in surprise. From the expression on his companion's face, Oliver had known this was coming.

Oliver smirked. 'Today's your lucky day.'

The boy tugged again, firmer this time. Despite his size, he was incredibly strong. 'She doesn't like to wait.'

The boy gave everything to his mistress, and nothing to men. Val knew he wouldn't tolerate a delay. He followed the boy through the living room, up the hallway, and into a bedroom. The door was left open. Maybe someone would come and watch, maybe not.

Samara stood in the middle of the room, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. She looked at Val, and then to her boy. 'Good boy,' she told him.

The boy released his grip. He stood, ever present and waiting, ready to obey whatever command Samara might issue.

Val look around the room. There was nothing in it but a cast iron bed covered in a plastic sheet, and a bedside table loaded with medical instruments. Underneath the table was a bucket. His heart skipped a beat. Samara had a sadistic streak a mile wide.

'Valery, you Russian pig,' she remarked, her blue eyes on his. 'We meet again. Take your clothes off.'

Once upon a time, they'd been lovers. She knew his secrets. She knew his desires. She knew that if she requested control, he'd give it to her. Long ago, long in the past, he used to wrest power from her occasionally. During those moments, he'd felt he was the one in charge. In hindsight, he realised she'd merely been humouring him.

He stripped off. He had a good body, broad and muscular and strong. He'd worked as a chef for a few years, back in his youth, and he knew how to cook. He enjoyed marijuana, kinky sex and food, and he liked to consume all three in that order. Without a partner, and without the resultant kinky sex, the food intake dropped and he leaned out.

He caught her checking him out and smiled knowingly. He wasn't handsome, but there was a strong air of masculinity about him. His hair was shaved to a buzz cut, he had a short, black beard, and his eyes were ice blue. Many people assumed he was a skinhead, but this wasn't true. In fact, given that the Nazis had nearly starved his grandfather to death in a POW camp, nothing could be further from the truth.

There were tattoos on his body; Gabriel on the left arm, Satan on his right. A unicorn fighting a lion on his back. A naked sylph on his left calf and a bear drinking vodka on his right. Each drawing was vivid against his white skin.

'Take it all off,' she clarified, noting that he was still wearing briefs.

He dropped his pants, exposing a fat five inches, with a Prince Albert through the head. God hadn't gifted him with length, but he'd made up for it with girth. Val was hard already, and Samara took one look at his cock and snorted. He glanced at the boy, but the boy's face was impassive.

There was a knock on the open door, and they all turned to look.

'Excuse me,' Samara said, noting the arrival. 'I'll be back in a minute. Boy, wash him. Make sure he's done by the time I get back.'

Samara left with the newcomer, leaving Val and the boy alone. The boy obviously knew what was expected of him, because he removed his leather gloves and placed them on the bedside table. He retrieved a bucket of water and sponge from underneath the table.

'Lie on your stomach,' the boy said, gesturing to the bed. 'I'll do your back first.'

Valery was straight, but he adopted a flexible view to his sexuality. It helped, in moments like these, when the warm, deft touch of a man caused his cock to twinge with desire, to take a lax approach to such things.

The boy moved quickly and competently, starting with Val's back and moving his way down to his ass.

'Spread your legs,' the boy said.

Val spread them slightly. Seconds later, the sponge was probing between his cheeks. There was something intensely humiliating, and yet hugely erotic, about what the boy was doing. As his companion's attention turned to his legs, Val shifted himself and discreetly rubbed his erection against the plastic sheet.

'Roll over,' the boy said.

Valery rolled over, exposing an angry red cock leaking pre cum. He stared at the light in the ceiling as the sponge was pressed against his arms. It was a Saturday night, and while the normal people of the world were going about doing normal things, he was being bathed by a man in a black leather gimp suit. Life was indeed wonderful.

The boy was said to be straight, but he was obviously very curious about Val's body. He put down the sponge and bucket, and he looked Val up and down. His work roughened hands stroked Val's nipples, and he grinned at the reaction he got.

The boy's hands moved over Val's stomach and down to his cock. The touch was light and careful, and Val yearned for more.

'Rub it,' Val suggested.

The boy shook his head. 'I don't think she'd like it if I did that.'

Nonetheless, the boy ran his hand over the head of Val's cock, settling on the piercing. Val propped himself up on elbows and watched as the boy raised his hand to his mouth and tasted the fluid Val had leaked.

'Suck me,' Val requested. 'Stick it in your mouth and suck me dry.'

The ferocity of his request frightened the boy. He stopped playing with Val's body, and instead went back to washing him.

'You could fuck me before she gets back,' Val offered, his voice thick with lust. 'I've never been fucked by a man before, but I'd let you, if you let me get off, too.'

The boy shook his head. 'No. Be quiet. She'll be angry.'

Val's body shifted uneasily on the plastic sheet. The room was air conditioned and the temperature set low, but he was still sweating. He wanted sex. He was blinded to anything else but his own desire.

The boy finished washing him. He was patting him dry when Samara returned, and Val and the boy looked guiltily at her as she marched back into the room.

'I hope we were behaving,' she said, her voice carrying a tone of dry humour.

'Yes, Mistress,' the boy said, his head bowed.

She stroked his dark hair affectionately. 'Sit in the corner, my boy. You can play with yourself if you want, but no orgasms, remember that.'

'Thank-you Mistress,' he whispered.

The boy scurried off to the corner and unlaced the front of his suit with shaking hands. His cock, the same length as Val's but thinner, bounced free from it's confines. He was uncircumcised, and his cock was as hard as glass. Val looked at it admiringly as the boy began to stroke himself. He imagined the boy's hands were on his own desperate length, rubbing him to climax.

'You want him to touch you, don't you?' Samara inquired, staring at Val. 'You wouldn't care who got you off. You'd mount anyone, anything, you're so desperate.'

'Perfect for you to play with,' Val grunted.

She smiled. 'You've lost all sense of reason. All sense of decency. I like that.'

Samara deftly tied him to the bed using thick, black rope. She was an old hack when it came to rope, and she knew not to allow him any extra slack.

She took his cock in her hand and massaged it. He groaned in delight, lifted his hips off the bed and thrust into her hands.

'Someone's happy,' she teased. 'What do you want?'

'I want you to climb on me and fuck me.'

She laughed. 'Oh no. That's for the boy, and the boy only.'

'The for fuck's sake Samara, suck me off. You have me where you want me.'

'No, I have you where you want to be. I, on the other hand, am not even close to getting what I want. I want to hurt you. I want to make you cry.'

She could do it, too. They both knew she could do it. He looked at the boy in the corner, busily masturbating himself towards climax. The boy was a masochist. He got off on pain. He welcomed it. Val didn't. For Val, pain did something else entirely. It bought who he was to the surface and revealed it for everyone to see. It bought agony, but it also bought relief, relief that no antidepressant could hope to match.

'Oh, sweet Val,' she said, her voice softening. 'Did you think I forget? Why do you think I waited so long to agree to your requests? I had to make sure the boy was ready. He won't understand. I beat him, and he begs for more. He's not like you.'

He stared at his arm, to avoid meeting her gaze. 'I don't know if I can do it.'

'Yes, you can. You know you can. You didn't ask to play because you wanted a fuck. You asked because it's in your blood. You need this.'

Val licked his lips. 'Okay. Do it.'

She smiled gently and kissed his forehead. 'Don't forget to scream.'

She started softly. Nipple clamps. His legs spread, and a butt plug inserted. A slight slap to the face. He breathed deeply and tried to find the place he knew he had to go to. A higher level. Something not quite in this world.

Samara leant down and whispered conspiratorially in his ear that her boy was getting jealous.

'That slut?' Val snorted. 'He can't leave his cock alone as it is.'

'And you're any better? Look in the corner,' she said, holding his face in her hands and forcing him to look. A red light blinked tellingly. 'You know there's a camera in here. Did you really think I wouldn't check what you two were getting up to? I saw you propositioning him.'

'So?' Val asked defiantly.

'You're such a goddamn whore you'd fuck a man. You'd let a man fuck you. How did it get to this, you piece of shit?'

'It's been a long time.'

'How long? How long has it been, Val, since a woman rode you?'

'Thirteen, fourteen months,' he admitted.

She shook her head in disgust. 'And yet you hit on every woman who comes into this place. Every dinner. Every party. You're there, with your dick out, basically begging one to take you.'

He shut his eyes and tried to get a grip. She never had any qualms about dishing up the truth on a platter. It hurt. His heart ached with the mutual pains of loneliness and humiliation.

Samara tugged at his piercing. 'Why this? Why decorate it? Let me tell you something, Val; women don't care for the accoutrements. We don't care if you're small or big, cut or uncut. We like cocks when we like the men they belong to.'

'I like it,' he whispered. 'I want to look at me and not be disgusted.'

She sighed and squeezed his balls. 'Jesus, Val.'

The boy interrupted the moment with his cries. He was madly stroking away, and by the sounds emanating from his mouth, he was close to cumming.

'Oh, for fuck's sake,' Samara swore, sliding off the bed and approaching him. She grabbed at one of the many rings on his suit and directed him to stand. 'Stop touching yourself, you slut. I give you one fucking directive and you can't obey.'

Samara threw him against the foot of the bed. From there, she secured his wrists behind his back, and positioned him so that he was facing Valery.

'You two are pathetic,' she said, as she began to masturbate the boy. She used one hand on his cock, and held the back of his neck with the other. 'So much for being heterosexual. Look at you both, staring at each other's cocks.'

The boy whimpered with pleasure. Samara spat on his masked face.

It was enough to get the boy there, but Samara didn't let the boy enjoy it - she removed her hand from his shaft at the first indication of orgasm. Thick strands of white cum flew from the head of his cock, and he cried out as he spent an agonising period thrusting futilely into the cold air. She'd let him cum, but she'd ensured he got no joy out of it.

Val stared, wide-eyed, at the brutality. The boy was stricken with remorse, and when his body stopped shaking, he mewled a pitiful apology at his Mistress.

'Nobody cares, boy,' she said roughly. She moved him so that he was beside the bed, rather than at the side, and pushed him onto his knees. 'You came all over Val's feet. Clean up your mess.'

The boy sorrowfully used his mouth to clean up his mess. Samara kept a close eye on him for a few seconds, before deeming him sufficiently remorseful. She then resumed her seat on the edge of the bed, right near Valery's head.

'Now, where were we?' she mused, tightening the nipple clamps. 'I believe we were discussing your cock. You're leaking pre cum everywhere.'

'Why did you do that to him?'

She snorted. 'That was nothing. He's a slut, Val. He'll come three, four times a day. He masturbates at every opportunity. He begs me to fuck him.'

'You're beyond cruel.'

'He likes it. You like it. No matter how much you pretend otherwise, this is what you need.'

He bit his lip. 'I need help, Samara.'

She stroked his forehead. 'Tell me what's wrong.'

'Hurt me. Hurt me and I'll tell you.'

He told her everything. He told her the things he couldn't otherwise tell, the secrets and fears and desires that three separate shrinks had tried unsuccessfully to extract from him. He needed the truth to be forced out. He needed physical pain. He needed to cry.

Sex wasn't always like this for him. He could indulge in kink on a lighter, friendlier level, and he'd love it. He could indulge in regular, vanilla sex, and have a cracking good time. Eventually, though, he would reach a point where he needed to be broken down. It was a bizarrely cathartic experience, and one he didn't do with just any old Domme.

Samara masturbated him as they talked. He was still, despite the weeping, insanely horny.

'Have you had enough?' she asked eventually, leaning down.

He nodded. 'Thank-you.'

'I'm going to untie you. Get on all fours, put the pillow underneath you, and do your thing. The boy and I will help.'

Samara freed him, then she did the same for her boy. Val positioned himself as instructed and he began to thrust against the soft mound beneath him. He needed to fuck something to get himself to cum. It didn't matter whether it was a person, a mouth, a set of tits or a pillow, but he needed to grind.

There was no shame in what he was doing. He'd left that behind any sense of embarrassment over an hour ago. He felt safe with her, and with her boy, too. The boy was trustworthy; Samara wouldn't tolerate anything less.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her boy alongside her. Her boy had been silent while Samara had been talking with Val, and truth be told, Valery had barely noticed him. Now, though, he was coming alive, reasserting his presence.

'Legs apart,' Samara requested.

Val spread his legs. Samara placed her hand on his back, and she pushed him into each thrust. He felt a saliva covered finger penetrate him as he moved. It wasn't a woman's finger. He groaned and pushed back against it. Another digit was inserted and Val's eyes rolled back with pleasure.

Val lunged and thrust into the pillow, feeling his climax growing ever closer. When he was just seconds away, he moved the pillow out of the way and gripped his cock with his hand. The boy's two fingers were still inside him.

'Does my boy feel good?' Samara asked him. 'Is he touching what you want touched?'

'He feels good,' Val grunted.

'He's very obedient,' she said. 'You owe him. You know that, don't you?'

'Yes.'

'You're going to cum, aren't you? Look down at your cock. The boy didn't believe me when I told him you're forever inadvertently giving yourself facials.'

Val looked down at himself. The boys' hand shifted slightly. The sensation as indescribably good. Val shut his eyes, tightened his grip on his cock, and came. It was the sort of earth shattering orgasm that made him thrust and buck, swear furiously and, sure, cop a load in the face.

He ground himself onto the boy's hand as the last precious seconds of orgasm surged through his body, before falling limp. He could hear Samara laughing softly. She sounded pleased. Val grinned at the noise, and wiped his face with his hand. Goddamn he'd made a mess.

Samara helped him clean up while the boy washed his hands in the bucket of water. The boy's cock was still exposed, and he was again as hard as nails.

'He's a slut,' Samara reminded Val. 'Do you want to help me finish him off?'

'Sure.'

Samara didn't ask the boy what he wanted. The sexual act he'd receive would be the one she chose for him. The boy, for his part, was happy just to be noticed. Val saw the excitement on his face, and smiled broadly. This could be fun.

She sat her boy on the edge of the bed and rolled a condom expertly over his erection. He neither spoke nor moved, just sat, eagerly waiting for what would come next. She removed her dress, so that she was in heels, bra and panties. Val tried not to be too obvious in checking her out. Her boy wasn't so discreet; he didn't need to be, and he saw no reason to hide his pleasure.

'Get on your knees, Val,' Samara ordered.

Val didn't hesitate in obeying. He liked the boy, and he knew the boy was curious about men. He was much the same as Val; straight, and not one to seek out a member of his own gender, but certainly willing to engage in the odd round of experimental activity.

The boy was easy to take, and easy to please. The boy groaned and reached for his Mistress as Val took him into his mouth. Val glanced up and saw that the boy was kissing Samara and fondling her breasts. A faint twinge of jealousy gnawed at Val. There was a deep, strong undercurrent of love between the pair, and Val understood he was nothing more than a toy to them.