The Switch Ch. 08

Valery was finishing up when there was a knock at the door. He shut down his laptop, and went over to answer it.

There were two police standing at the door, one of whom was Oliver.

'What do you want?' Valery asked.

Oliver indicated to the house across the road. 'The bloke that lives there wants you charged with assault. Do you mind if we come in?'

Valery deeply regretted not punching the man's head in when he'd had the chance. It would have been hugely cathartic, and it would have been a more impressive story to tell Oliver and his colleague, rather than having to admit he'd done nothing more than physically return the man to his home.

To Val's surprise, Oliver and his colleague were quite relaxed about the whole matter, and accepted his version of events without question.

'So now what?' Val inquired. 'Do I get arrested?'

'No,' Oliver laughed. 'You don't. Your next door neighbour witnessed the whole thing and corroborated your version of events. Just try to keep your cats inside, hey? There's no use inflaming them.'

'Why do you even have so many bloody cats?' Oliver's colleague inquired.

'They came with the house,' Oliver told him. 'It was a deceased estate. The old owner's kids refused to take them, so they gave them to Val, without actually asking if he wanted them.'

The man laughed. 'Women must love them, mate,' he said to Val.

Val permitted himself a smile. 'About as much as you imagine they do.'

'Aimee didn't mind them, did she?' Oliver asked.

Val shook his head. 'No, but she was a bit different to most women.'

Oliver and his colleague stood up and told Val they were satisfied that there was nothing else to be discussed.

'Don't forget your ticket,' Oliver reminded him as they walked out the door.

'It's still in my car,' Valery replied.

'I'd go and get it, if I were you,' Oliver suggested.

Valery didn't doubt he would. Oliver, were he not a cop, would probably be one of those aggravatingly well behaved citizens. He wouldn't speed, or have six cats who killed birds with reckless abandon, or manhandle people who lived on his street.

Val went inside and composed yet another letter to Aimee. This was probably his eighth or ninth attempt, but none of them had so far managed to convey how he felt, and the more time went on, the more he realised any chance of earning her forgiveness had gone.

He wished she was more into social media. She barely posted, which was intensely aggravating to anyone who might want to keep track of what she was up to. He'd heard through Oliver, who used her baby-sitting services, that she was free of cancer, but he felt unable to question the man further, and Oliver didn't offer up much.

He really should just try and move on. He still had the amended online dating profile Samara had written up for him. It had worked for Aimee, so it would probably work for another woman.

No. He couldn't. His depression was back with a vengeance, and he was just so sick of life that it barely seemed worth living.

~~~~~~~

Oliver looked around Miles' house anxiously. Where was Val? He'd scribbled a note for him last week when he'd pulled him over for speeding, instructing him to come tonight. Hadn't Val read it? Had he been stupid enough to assume Oliver was actually going to book him for doing a few kilometres over the limit on a quiet road?

Well yes. It appeared Val was that stupid. Oliver mentally rolled his eyes at his friend and wondered what to do with Aimee. If he left her unattended, she'd be pounced on by a very sleazy Dom who had a habit of cornering unattended women.

His gaze flickered across the room. Val mightn't be here, but Samara had shown up with the boy. Oliver took Aimee's hand and led her over.

'Samara, can you keep Aimee company, please? I need to go outside and make a phone call.'

'Sure,' Samara agreed, looking around. 'Is Carl eyeing her up?'

'Got it in one.'

Oliver left Aimee in her care, and went outside to retrieve his phone from his car. Miles was strict; no photos inside. In fact, don't even bring your phones in so you don't get tempted. It was one of the primary reasons Oliver felt so comfortable coming here. He didn't need compromising photos coming to light and damaging his career.

He leant against his car and tried calling Val. There was no answer. Oliver tapped his phone against the car. Val lived close by, just a few streets away in fact. Maybe he should drive around and see if he was home.

Oliver got in his car, started it, and slowly drove to Val's pink house. If Oliver had owned the place, he would have had it repainted before he moved in, but it seemed to suit his friend. Nobody else would be able to get away with something so visibly outrageous, and yet still have everyone around them so unequivocally view them as a man.

Tonight, the lights were out, and Val's car wasn't in the driveway. It was clear that nobody was home. Oliver sat out the front for a few minutes, ruminating on why Val had chosen to ignore his note, when the man had seemed quite upset by the breakup. Maybe he was moving on. Oliver put his car into drive and returned to Miles' house.

When he returned, the evening had taken on a whole new, unexpected, slant. Samara, who Oliver had never seen get within a metre of another woman, was on the couch in the media room, making out with Aimee. Between Aimee's red hair and virginal white dress, and Samara's dark hair and black leather mini, they looked like an angel and a demon.

The boy was sitting in a recliner, watching the show. The boy wasn't the only man watching, either; there were several others enjoying the moment.

Oliver sat on the arm rest of Kyle's chair, leant in, and asked the boy what was going on.

'Carl was being a pain in the arse, so Samara decided to pretend Aimee was with us,' he explained.

Oliver was incredulous. 'And she thought getting intimate with Aimee would get him to go away?'

'It would seem so,' the boy agreed.

The two of them sat and observed the two women. Oliver noticed, with some aggravation, that the scene was more than a little arousing. As much as he liked to pretend he was above fetishizing lesbians, the reality was that such lofty aspirations were beyond him.

'You know, you should probably step in and help Samara out,' Oliver remarked.

The boy shrugged. 'She doesn't like me interfering.'

That may have been true, but Oliver was also deeply suspicious of Kyle's motives in allowing the scene to continue. The boy was looking at the women like a cat that had a pile of cream heaped in it's bowl.

'You just want to watch your Mistress get frisky with another woman,' Oliver accused.

Kyle grinned. 'Of course.'

'If you were my sub, I'd lash you for sitting back on your arse without helping,' Oliver threatened.

The expression on the boy's face told Oliver that he'd stumbled across the very scene the boy had been fantasizing about. Oliver groaned. Brats. They were the most aggravating, useless, masochists imaginable.

Oliver glanced at the girls. Samara caught his eye and raised an eyebrow at him. She wanted him to sort this out, and the sooner, the better.

'You better back me up if anything goes wrong,' Oliver warned the boy, as he stood up and straightened his shirt.

'What are you doing?' the boy asked.

'Ending this,' Oliver replied simply.

Before the boy could protest, Oliver walked across to the women, and took Aimee's arm. The whole room froze. Oliver prayed a silent prayer that Aimee wouldn't panic, laugh, or do anything that might prevent him from successfully separating the two women.

'Pet,' he said to Aimee. 'That's enough. Fix your dress, straighten your hair, and get down on your knees in from of Samara. Thank her for playing with you.'

Aimee nodded, face downcast. 'Yes Master.'

Oliver was relieved. No, not just relieved. As Aimee disentangled herself, neatened herself up, and knelt in from of Samara, Oliver realised what he felt was lust. That was wrong. Very, very wrong. Aimee was effectively 'on hold' for Val. Plus, Oliver relied on her to baby-sit his children. He couldn't let his cock get in the way of what was a very effective business relationship.

Samara stroked Aimee's face. She placed a finger under the redhead's chin, and forced her to look up.

'You're a good girl,' Samara told her. 'Remember to reward your Master for letting you play. Give him whatever he wants.'

Aimee nodded. 'I will Mistress. Thank-you.'

Oliver took Aimee's hand and helped her to her feet. He glanced at Samara and gave her a short, sharp nod of thanks. She returned the gesture as she stood.

For a few seconds, neither Oliver nor Samara knew how to act. Time seemed to stand still as they stood in the living room, amidst a sea of disappointed men. Oliver glanced at the boy.

'What are you going to do with him?' Oliver asked, nodding his head in the boy's direction.

Samara smiled indulgently at the boy. 'What can I do? I told him to sit back and watch.'

The boy returned her smile. He'd just spent an enjoyable period observing his Mistress be intimate with an attractive woman, and now his owner was ready to take him somewhere and play with him. His life was precisely how he wanted it to be.

'You don't think he should have interrupted?' Oliver asked.

'Why?' Samara inquired archly. 'He's a sub, Oliver. His job is to do as he was told. He was told to sit down and not do a thing. He did that impeccably.'

The motley assortment of men who'd come in to see two women making out filtered out of the room. They understood the show was over.

Oliver glanced at Kyle. The boy was smirking.

'So what did you think was going to happen?' Oliver asked Samara. 'Were you just going to keep making out with Aimee?'

Samara shook her head. 'I knew you'd come back and take care of things. And you did. Thanks. You did an incredible job, and now,' she said, gesturing to Aimee. 'It looks like you have your reward. Have fun.'

Oliver glanced at Aimee. She gave him a quick, shy, smile. His throat felt constricted, and he recognised in himself the desire to play with her. He'd never thought of Aimee as submissive, but the way she'd responded when he'd told her to stop playing with Samara...

Samara grinned at him as she collected her boy. 'I can't believe Val ignored what was right under his nose.'

Within seconds, only Oliver and Aimee remained in the room. He led her to the couch and sat her down on his lap. He needed to talk to her before he started. If they started. She might still change her mind about where things were heading.

'So,' he said, stroking her thigh. 'What do you want?'

She flushed red. 'The same thing we were talking about the other week; to try something new. To see what Val refused to show me.'

'Val's a switch. I'm not. If you play with me, you play as a sub. There's no room for negotiation, and I don't tolerate resistance. My control of you is complete, and you exist only to serve me. Do you understand?'

She shut her eyes and nodded. 'I do.'

'Are you scared?' he asked.

She nodded again. 'Terrified.'

Oliver ran his hand along the inside of her thigh. He slid underneath her dress, and towards her panties. He could feel the heat emanating from her. His toy for the night. His frightened little bird, perched on his lap, too petrified to move.

'Let's set some limits,' he said. 'I'll tell you what I want to do with you. If you have any objections, speak up.'

'Okay.'

'I'm going to take you to my house. My children are with their mother, so there's nobody there. When we get there, I'm going to tie your hands behind your back, and blindfold you. From there, you'll exist only to serve me. I'll play with your body. Force you to play with mine. If you say 'I don't want to, Master', I'll ease off. If you say 'I can't, Master', I'll stop. Do you follow me?'

'Yes.'

'Do you permit anal sex?'

'No.'

'Definite no?' he asked.

'Definite no. Is that a problem?'

'No. The choice is yours. Vaginal sex? Oral?'

'They're fine,' she agreed. She flushed again. 'I really like giving oral sex but I gag.'

'I'll keep that in mind.' He stroked her soft, red hair. 'Do you find it easy to climax?'

'No.'

'Is it easier with a vibrator?'

'Never tried,' she admitted.

She'd never used a vibrator? He found that hard to believe, but the expression on her face suggested it may just be true. He'd have to make a detour on the way home. He knew of a store or two that would still be open.

'Can you handle degradation?' he asked. 'I'd you to chase an orgasm like it was a goal, while I did everything in my power to mock you for it.'

'I don't know. I'm willing to try, though.'

That was good enough.

'Come home with me,' he said. 'Get your purse. Get in my car. I'll take you back here tonight, tomorrow, whenever you like...'

'Tonight,' she said. 'I want to go home tonight.'

She was setting a few rules of her own. No spending the night, and, ergo, no assuming that she was interested in anything more than sex.

'Works for me,' he agreed. 'Let's go.'

He took her out to his car, opened the passenger side door, and gestured for her to get in. From here on in, she was his, and he certainly hoped she was ready for it. He was. His mind was already racing a million miles ahead, thinking of all the fun he could have with her.

They stopped at an adult store. He told her to stay in the car, and she mutely nodded. She hadn't tried to speak to him on the journey, which was fine with him. He didn't need conversation. In fact, with Aimee, he quite enjoyed the silence. It suited her.

It didn't take him long to find what he was after. It was inexpensive, simple to use, and, amusingly, fluoro green. He returned to the car, strapped himself in, and opened the package.

'What did you get?' she asked.

He showed her. 'I'm going to put the batteries in. I want you to try it out on the way home. Oh, and no talking. I like you quiet.'

The expression on her face changed from curiosity to shock, and then settled on humility. Until this point she'd been scared, but she'd believed it was still a game. She'd been role playing. It had now dawned on her that this wasn't theatre. She wasn't an actress. He was seeing her for who she really was, and he was going to force her to alter the way she perceived herself. He was going to show her who lurked underneath the sweet smile and brick red hair.

Aimee's whole demeanour changed. This time, when she bowed her head, it wasn't just the mirroring of an action she'd seen other people make, it was a show of subservience. An acknowledgement that she wasn't in charge.

'Good girl,' he said, his compliment genuine. 'You're beginning to understand.'

He drove her home through the back streets. It gave her plenty of time to hike her dress up, and experiment with the vibrator. She may have claimed she struggled to climax, but the small noises she made, and the way she bit down on her lower lip, suggested that she was aroused. He smirked, satisfied, and thought of all the ways he could tease her.

'We're here,' he said. 'Give me the vibrator, pull your skirt down, and get out of the car.'

He took her inside, and switched on the light. He noticed her looking around, reminding herself where the furniture was. Smart girl. She'd soon be blindfolded and working from memory alone.

'I'll be back in a minute,' he said. 'Take your clothes off and leave them by the door. You won't need them until it's time to go.'

She began to protest.

'I didn't ask your opinion,' he reminded her. 'And I told you; I expect complete obedience.'

It was the last time she tried to voice an opinion. His words took from her the last skerrick of resistance, and by the time he'd returned, she was standing, naked, in his doorway.

In clothes, she was an attractive woman. Nude, she was spectacular. Her body was lean and white, with a smattering of freckles on her arms and legs. Her breasts were small but firm, her nipples pink, and her hips and stomach rounded.

He blindfolded her and tied her hands behind her back, in exactly the manner he'd warned her. He stood back and surveyed her. She was completely helpless. He could do anything he wanted to her, and she wouldn't be able to stop him.

Oliver took her out to the back patio. The night air was cold, and her nipples immediately hardened. Goosebumps formed on her skin. He guided her forward, and she took a few uncertain steps, trying to remember the layout of the area.

'Sit down,' he ordered, standing her in front of a chair 'Sit down and spread your legs.'

Aimee sat and moved her legs apart, giving him a perfect view of her sex. Her body was shaking with a combination of cold and fear, but she didn't protest or ask him to take it back a notch.

Wordlessly, he went inside and retrieved a length of rope. He took it out to where Aimee sat, still freezing cold, still displaying herself. He tied her ankles to the legs of the chairs. He knew, now, that she wouldn't move unless he told her, but he wanted her to understand she had no dignity left. No freedom.

'You fucking whore,' he laughed. 'Was this what you wanted? Was this what you had in mind when you said you wanted to play?'

She didn't respond.

He leant down and kissed her neck. His hands found her breasts, and he gently massaged them. 'Tell me, Aimee. Is this what you were expecting?'

She shook her head slightly. 'No.'

'Hmm. I didn't think so.' He stood up and unzipped his fly. He freed his cock from his briefs and stroked it slowly. 'You stupid little bitch. Playing games you don't understand.'

Oliver's stood beside the chair. Aimee, sightless, was facing straight ahead. He turned her face towards him, and pushed a thumb into her closed mouth, forcing it open. Her mouth was dry with fear. He didn't care. Without any warning, he guided his cock into her mouth and gave a hard thrust.

She gagged immediately. The sound was harsh and ragged, and it took everything in his power not to shove his cock down her throat again, just to hear it a second time. Her mouth filled with saliva, no doubt a result of the gagging, and it dripped from the corners of her cock-filled mouth.

Oliver grinned, and began to rock back and forth. She didn't like how deeply he was thrusting. She wasn't gagging, but she was certainly trying to shy away from him.

'Don't move, or I'll hold your head,' he warned.

She forced herself to accept all that he gave her, and sucked and licked his cock as he slid it in and out of her mouth. She tried her best to bring him too climax, but he wasn't yet ready to cum. He continued to rock, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He rested his hands on her head as he moved, just so she remembered his warning.

The minutes ticked by. He could see that she was growing desperate for him to climax. Her jaw was aching and her tongue was exhausted by the motion. Her mouth no longer had the same, rigid, grip on him. She was getting sloppy.

'Don't get lazy,' he warned her. 'Flick your tongue against the head.'

She followed his instruction. He smiled and leant back. Took a deep breath of cold, night air. He was ready to orgasm.

Oliver didn't thrust. He didn't pull his manhood from her mouth and masturbate himself to completion. He didn't do anything to signify his impending climax, he simply waited until the pressure became too much and he silently exploded in her mouth.

She hadn't realised he was so close to orgasm, and she choked and retched in horror as she was filled with his cum. His cock slipped from her mouth, and he quickly grabbed it and stroked himself with urgency, letting his remaining seed fall onto her chest. He made no noise whatsoever, he simply let the last of his climax wash over his body, and then he shoved his cock back in her mouth.