The Switch Ch. 09

When Samara gently asked Aimee what was driving her questions, Aimee blurted out all of this information in an embarrassed rush. Aimee's face was flushing bright red, almost as red as it had been when she'd learned her interlude with Val in the kitchen on New Year's hadn't been as private as she'd thought, but Samara seemed more amused than ever.

'Aimee, he's not going to judge you. He's not going to look at you and think 'oh, she's wearing xyz, I'm not turned on'. He wants to give himself to you. Take what he's offering and thank him for it. Don't doubt why he's giving it to you. That belittles both of you. Trust me, I've made that mistake.'

'I don't know what to do with him.'

'You don't have some ideas lurking around in your mind?' Samara inquired. 'You didn't see anything that interested you when I took you to play with the boy? Or when Oliver took you home?'

'Oliver scared me. I thought he was going to kill me.'

Samara was confused. 'Why didn't you stop him? Olly's a stickler for rules. He would have stopped the second you asked.'

'I don't know. I guess I would have felt like I was wimping out.'

Samara sighed heavily and stared into the distance. Aimee regretted saying anything. She'd all but admitted she couldn't do this. The worst part was that Samara had warned her against going home with Oliver. She'd told her that he might be a kind, handsome man in the daylight, but in the bedroom he was someone darker and harsher. Aimee hadn't believed it. She should have, but she hadn't.

'I know you told me not to go with him,' Aimee said.

'Aimee, this isn't supposed to be something you endure in the hopes of making someone happy, or proving you can fit in. You always have the right to say 'no' or set limits.'

'I'm not scared of Val. I don't mind what he does. It's kind of fun, actually. I'm scared of being the one who takes it too far. I'm scared of putting him in the place I was in.'

'Has he told you what he wants from you?' Samara asked.

She nodded. 'He said he wants me to treat him like a servant.'

'That sounds like Val. He also likes being directed to wear women's underwear. Oh, and don't be surprised if he starts crying. Just give him a cuddle if he does.'

Samara rattled off the information as if she was teaching Aimee how to solve a complex algebraic equation. And yet, Aimee had the distinct impression Sam genuinely cared about Val. Not in a romantic sense, of course, but in a way that hinted at a deep friendship.

'The problem with Val is that he wants to submit, but he's scared of exposing himself,' Samara added suddenly. 'If he questions you, or turns instructions into a joke, it's not because he's a brat, but because he wants to ensure you'll take care of him.'

'He did that with you, too? Because even when we were getting out of the car and I was putting his collar on, he was pretending to be a dog and biting my fingers.'

Samara made a noise of frustration. 'That's just ridiculous.'

They fell silent.

'Is Kyle like Val?' Aimee asked.

'Somewhat. Kyle is more masochistic. Kyle also enjoys women humiliating him about his sex drive which, I should tell you, is through the roof. So, for example, if I notice he has an erection, I'll demand he show me, then spank him for being a dirty boy.'

Aimee giggled. 'That actually sounds like fun.'

Samara smiled magnanimously. 'It is. Do you want a turn?'

'Would Val get offended?'

'I doubt it. Not if you tell him he's been such a good boy that you'll take him home so he can serve you.'

Aimee was impressed. Sam certainly had a repertoire of ideas. 'Do you ever have to sit and plan what you're going to do?' she asked.

'I enjoy sitting and planning things. So many possibilities.' Samara's eyes took on a faraway, dreamlike state. 'We should decide what we're going to do with them. It seems wasteful to have them both here, and to not take advantage.'

~~~~~~~~

Aimee was still sitting outside, chatting with Samara, when Val and Kyle finished with the dishes. Val peered out the kitchen window at them, wondering if they were ever going to come inside.

'Should we go and get them?' Val asked.

Kyle shook his head. 'No. She doesn't like that.'

Kyle's mask was slipping. In the comfort of his own home, under the influence of friendly company, THC and alcohol, he was metamorphosing from a successful farmer to an obedient submissive. Submission came to the boy as naturally as breathing. He recognised Samara for who and what she was, and was careful to protect her interests. Val knew they would have to wait for the women to come inside of their own accord.

'You're a good boy,' Val remarked.

'No, I'm not,' the boy corrected. 'Two weeks ago we were at Miles' house. Carl kept bothering Aimee. Samara decided to take care of Carl by telling him Aimee was with us. Sexually. The women started kissing.'

Val paused. 'What? I thought she went home with Oliver that night?'

'She did, but before that, she was getting intimate with Samara on the couch in the media room.'

'And I missed it,' Val muttered. 'Was it as hot as I'm imagining?'

'Hotter. It was incredible. All of the men came in to see them. I knew I should have broken it up, because Mistress hates men staring at her, but I just took a seat and watched it happen.'

Val snorted. 'I'd have done the same thing.'

'Oliver didn't,' the boy said regretfully. 'He came in and pretended that Aimee was his pet, and he'd just been allowing her to play with Mistress.'

'What a travesty.'

The boy nodded. 'I know. But I should have done something. I should have helped her. At the time, Mistress pretended she wasn't angry with me, so neither of us would lose face, but when we got home, she made me sleep on the floor. She wouldn't let me touch her.'

Val felt the boy's pain as keenly as if it were his own. He understood the gut-wrenching agony of displeasing someone you wanted to honour. Letting lust get in the way of propriety. Making excuses, rather than doing the right thing.

The women came inside, Samara leading the way. Samara's eyes narrowed as she realised they'd been discussing something less than vanilla. Her gaze settled on her boy.

'What were you talking about?' she inquired.

The boy flushed. 'Miles's house,' he mumbled. 'The other weekend.'

'Really?' Samara inquired, approaching her boy with the stealth of a cheetah hunting it's prey. 'Pray tell, which part of that night did you find most interesting? The part where you sat back and watched seven men gawp at Aimee and I? Or the part where you realised what a stupid, stupid mistake you'd made by sitting back and not protecting us?'

The boy muttered something unintelligible.

'I have no idea what you're trying to say, so I can only presume it's something feeble and pathetic,' she snorted. 'Are you actively trying to provoke me?'

The boy shook his head vigorously. 'No Mistress.'

Samara stroked his cheek. Her face took on a softer, almost maternal, slant. 'Oh dear boy,' she said softly. 'Was it really that fascinating to you?'

He shrugged miserably. 'Yes Mistress.'

'Would you like to see something like that again?'

'Yes Mistress.'

'What do we do if we want something? Do we wait to take advantage of a situation? Do we try and obtain what we want by stealth? Or do we ask for it?'

The boy was contrite. 'We ask for it, Mistress.'

'And if the answer is 'no', what do we do?'

'We accept that the answer is 'no'.'

Val's initial interest in the pair's exchange turned to dread. If Samara was dangling in front of the boy's nose a delicious treat, then it was guaranteed that she was preparing to inflict a not insignificant amount of pain.

Samara turned to Aimee. 'What do you think? Would you consider permitting them to witness a moment between us?'

Aimee nodded. 'That works for me.'

'No,' Val interrupted. 'Aimee, you don't understand what she's like. If she's offering something like that, then there has to be a catch. What's she taking in return?'

'I'm not taking anything,' Samara interrupted. 'Not from you, anyway.'

Val glanced at Samara. She raised her eyebrows at him. He glanced at the boy, too, but the boy's head was bowed. The boy wouldn't care what she did to him. He'd take anything.

'Aimee,' Val implored. 'You need to back this up a bit.'

Samara leant in to Aimee and whispered something in her ear. Valery's blood ran cold. Aimee had no idea how sadistic Samara was, and how much she enjoyed toying with men, but she was about to find out.

'You need to stop complaining,' Aimee informed him. 'You don't get to bring me here, tell me what to do, and whine when you don't get your way. If I start going too far, you can say 'less'. If you want me to stop, you can say 'another day'.'

It was funny with this subculture; Once you'd been around, you could spot who'd trained a dominant or submissive, and who they'd played with. Each master or servant left a mark upon them, altering the way they saw the world, and changing the way they treated their partners. Val could see in Aimee traces of both Oliver and Samara.

'I have my own words,' Val argued. He was testing her, not because he was a brat like the boy, and not because he didn't want to submit, but because he needed to know she was capable of this. He needed to be look in her eyes and see a desire to own him.

'I don't care,' Aimee responded. 'You're mine now. I make the rules.'

They stared at one another, searching for answers to their own, private questions.

'You can stop looking at me like that,' Aimee ordered.

He lowered his head. She could do it. She wanted to do it. What happened next was out of his hands. She may or may not know what he wanted. God knows that he'd been unable to tell her the details. To tell a woman about your desires for dominance was one thing. To tell her about how you wanted to be broken was quite another.

Aimee approached him. He felt her long, slim fingers around his neck. When she'd put the collar on him in the car, she hadn't tightened it enough, but she was remedying the mistake. Six months from the day he'd first met her, she was finally taking him, and only now did he admit to himself just how badly he wanted to go.

'You dirty whore,' she whispered as she buckled the collar. 'Do you really think I didn't notice your erection?'

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Samara giving the boy instructions. He was intrigued as to what she was telling him, and tried to listen in. He wanted to know what was going to happen.

That was foolish of him. His attention lapsed and he didn't realise Aimee was undressing him until his shirt was nearly off. He met her gaze with a flush of embarrassment as her fingers continued to deftly unbutton his shirt.

'You look like you found their conversation fascinating,' Aimee remarked. 'You need to learn to pay attention. Maybe if you're naked you'll be more receptive to do what I'm doing and saying.'

She slipped his shirt off over his shoulders and placed it over a chair. She told him to remove his shoes and socks, and when he was barefoot, she tugged at his belt. He was embarrassed at what she was about to see. He kept his gaze focussed on the floor as she removed his belt and jeans.

Aimee's hand traced over his knicker-clad arse. He was in red French cut panties, and he never would have worn them had he known she'd expose them.

'They suit you,' she said. 'Look at you, my wonderful servant boy. What is your name?'

'I don't have one yet,' he muttered. He wanted her to give him identity. Identity, purpose, and love. 'You can choose.'

She nodded thoughtfully. 'I will. I'll tell you when I've decided.'

She was a gentle Domme, far softer and sweeter than any Mistress he'd been with before. She stroked his face and told him to follow her.

Aimee took him to what must have been Samara and the boy's room. There was a huge, wooden bed in the centre, and she sat him on the edge. He understood she must have planned this with Samara. Sure enough, Samara soon breezed in, leading her boy.

Samara directed her boy to remove a box from underneath the bed. He pulled out a green plastic crate and opened the lid. Samara dug through the box and retrieved a gag and handcuffs. She gagged her boy, unbuttoned his shirt, and pushed his jeans to his thighs. She then handcuffed him and told him to sit next to Val.

'The boy has no self control,' Samara explained. 'If he has a hand free, he'll try and masturbate.'

The three of them turned to the boy. His face was red, and he tried to move his shirt so it would cover his erection, but with his hands handcuffed it was all but impossible.

'Disgraceful,' Samara told him.

Having said her piece, Samara turned her attentions to Aimee. With exquisite tenderness, the women kissed. Val's heart thudded, and his cock was throbbing. He quickly glanced at Kyle, and realised the boy was equally excited.

Two women didn't kiss in the way that a man and a woman did. They were softer, sweeter, and more gentle. There was a sensuality and eroticism to it that a heterosexual pairing couldn't hope to match.

Samara invited Aimee onto the bed. Their kisses grew deeper, and their hands roamed each other's body. Clothing was discarded, and they were soon top half naked, stomach against stomach, breast against breast. He felt no jealousy, just a deep, agonising yearning to join them.

No invitation sprung forth. Instead, it seemed as if his and the boy's presence had been forgotten. Samara gently sucked Aimee's nipples, and the redhead moaned, demanding more. Val had never imagined the two together, but had he, he would have pictured Samara as the aggressor. In fact, it was Aimee who spurred things on, Aimee who desperately shed Samara's clothing, and Aimee who spread the older woman's legs.

Samara was pregnant. Not by much, just a little, but Valery knew her body well enough to recognise the changes. He thought back to dinner. She hadn't touched alcohol. For a split second, he felt an intense feeling of loss, knowing that he would never see Aimee's nipples swelled and darkened, and her belly bloated with new life. Then the emotion was gone, replaced by both lust and pride. He had a future with Aimee. A long, sex-filled, exotic future.

Aimee pinned Samara beneath her, kissing her neck, her breasts and her thighs. Sam's legs were spread, revealing her sex, and both Val and the boy could see her wet, swollen, clit. Aimee knelt in position and was on the verge of commencing cunnilingus when the boy made a muffled gasp. Both Aimee and Sam stopped and gazed in his direction.

'Too far, my boy?' Samara asked.

He shook his head firmly. No, not too far. He just wanted to be involved.

Val placed a hand on the boy's thigh, and waited for Samara and Aimee's reaction. He prayed they'd tell him to jerk the boy off, so they could continue. God knows he wanted them to continue.

Aimee moved from between Samara's legs, up to the top of the bed. The women leant their heads close together and had a brief, quiet conversation.

It was Aimee who gave the instructions. 'Move your hand,' she told Val. 'Take the boy's handcuffs off.'

The boy was excited. Val was wary. He was more than happy to let Aimee and Samara do whatever they wanted to do, but he didn't want the boy involved. Val carefully removed the handcuffs and laid them on the floor.

Aimee approached the boy. She put a finger under his chin, tilted his face up and held his gaze. Val was struck with jealousy. It was the sort of deep, seething envy that bit at his very core. He silently begged her to stop. He could, and would, happily watch her go all the way with Samara, but interacting with the boy was a whole other ball game.

'You,' she told Kyle. 'Are disgraceful. She told me about you, did you know that? I know all about your Ultimate Surrender addiction. I know what she tells you to do, and I know that you beg her for more.'

Val turned away. He didn't want to see the boy's reaction, and he didn't want to hear anything else that Aimee might say to him. He didn't want to know what the women may choose to do with him. He was being pushed.

'You,' Aimee said, her voice suddenly gentle and filled with love. 'Are beautiful.'

She was speaking to him, and at the same time, stroking his arm. His eyes darted upwards. She was smiling at him, and everything about her stance and tone said she loved him beyond reason. The envy was replaced with intense pleasure and relief.

'I want you to get my clothes and meet me in the living room,' she said. 'It's time to go home.'

~~~~~~~~~

Aimee didn't know much about men, but every man she'd been with had shared one annoying trait; they couldn't give her a massage without making sexual overtures within the first ten minutes. It was as if they literally couldn't imagine why she would be lying, naked, in front of them if not for sex.

For someone who was a professionally trained masseuse and had given out more massages than she could count, it was incredibly annoying. As such, when gifted with a servant, and armed with Samara's advice, she decided to make the most of the situation.

Valery didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed very content. She lay on her stomach on the bed, periodically sipping at her glass of diet Coke, as he massaged her back. She tilted her head so she could get a better look at him. There was something incredibly sexy about a man in women's underwear.

'Valery?'

'Yes?'

'I think you should call me Miss Aimee.'

'Yes, Miss Aimee,' he responded seriously, not a whiff of a smile on his face. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had pretended to be a puppy when she put his collar on.

'And on that note, what is the word for 'cat' in Russian?'

'Kot.'

'That doesn't quite have the ring to it I wanted.'

'Is Kotyonok better?'

'Yes. What's Kotinok mean?'

'Kotyonok,' he corrected. 'It means kitten.'

'Kotyonok. I like it. Consider it your name.' She rolled onto her back and stared at him. There was a serenity to him that she hadn't seen before, something pure and relaxed. 'I want you to run a bath for me,' she continued. 'Next to the bath, I want you to put the bag we picked up from my house.'

'Yes Miss Aimee.'

The rolled back onto her stomach, feeling not scared, not worried, and not upset, but eager. She was enjoying herself. The key was definitely getting into the right mindset.

Valery came back in to continue her massage while the bath filled. She knew he was horny. She knew that it must be driving him crazy to ignore his urges in order to satisfy hers. As his large, warm hands moved over her legs, she groaned and buried face in the pillow.

When the bath was ready, he led her to it, and helped her in. She thanked him, and kissed his forehead.

'Kitten,' she said.

'Yes Miss Aimee?'

'Open the bag. Pull out the washcloth and the jar of Vaseline. I want you to put a big dollop of it in the middle. Then I want you to wet it.'

'Yes Miss Aimee.'

He very carefully unscrewed the lid and placed a generous amount of Vaseline on the cloth. Then he wet it in the water, and waited for her instructions.

She took his hand, and led it between her legs. She ensured the part of the cloth that was coated in petroleum jelly lined up with her clitoris, and began to rub. Mister Jim, who was sitting on the vanity, watched with interest.

'Now you know what I didn't bother with the showerhead,' she murmured. 'Keep going.'

His attention to detail was impeccable, and he slowly moved the cloth over her sex. She laid her head against the edge of the tub, her hair piled up on top of her head in a messy bun, and moaned.

'Are you horny?' she whispered.

'Yes Miss Aimee.'

She laughed softly. 'Good. Keep going.'

His brow furrowed, and he dedicated himself to bringing her to climax. She felt her clit swell, and she moaned again, louder this time.