Page 3 of Switched
ThoughtsofCandacemakeme think of trust, and my inability to do so. I wasn't always distrusting, but when the ones closest to you break it... it becomes harder for you to let another person close.
I can give that credit to Monica - the one woman who has made it so hard for me to trust another.
Monica, my submissive. My property. I owned her and addressed her as girl or my fuck toy. She addressed me as Sir or Master. Monica was ten years younger than me, with fiery red hair that she kept cut pixie short. A very intelligent woman with a voluptuous body for the sole purpose of sin. She was well suited as my sub, obeying any command I gave her. I trained her to do many things although my favorite was to suck my cock the way I liked it. In return, I cherished, comforted, soothed, and pushed her to her limits of pain and pleasure. I loved her in a way that I had never loved anyone prior to her. She was unique.
But there were moments I remembered when something shifted, only for brief moments. Monica would be naked, kneeling at my feet. At my command, she’d raise her bowed head to look up at me. There was only admiration for her Master with those green eyes. But there was something else I sensed at times. To anyone else, it wouldn’t have even been noticed, but as her Dom I knew every inch of her body, her mind and her soul. I guess I was in denial and didn’t want to consider my own intuition. I didn’t want to ever doubt Monica’s loyalty to me.
I was still in denial, even when my eyes registered to my brain what was in front of me. It was Monica, wearing a short blond wig. She wrapped her cherry red lips around a cigarette. A tight-fitting red dress exposed those toned thighs and legs as she crossed them, sitting at the bar at the Velvet Dungeon – an exclusive kink club. I knew of this club, located on a side road off the Vegas Strip.
Everyone can be careless at times, when you have other things floating around in your mind, like Monica once did. My mind drifted back to the night. She had lit some candles for me to cast a relaxing scene as she worshipped my swollen, aggressive cock. My little pretty slut sucked, licked, and stroked me as she wore an emerald and diamond-encrusted platinum butt plug in her sweet tight ass.
I praised her when she licked my balls. I fisted a firm grip into her fiery red hair. “That’s it my pretty little slut.” I shoved myself fully into her warm wet mouth, and thrusted my hips, making her gag on me. “I want to listen to you choke on my fat cock!”
She whimpered and gagged, tears welling up and running down her soft cheeks.
Later the next morning, I spotted the purple-colored pack of matches next to the candles Monica had lit the night before. Some of the matches had been torn off and used. “Vel Dun” in white gothic font stared up at me from the front cover.
So, there I was, knowing at that time what Vel Dun meant. Standing there, watching Monica, and she wasn’t alone. A man in his mid-fifties, with salt and pepper hair, dressed only in leather pants, his burly chest covered in gray hair, sat next to her. His hand squeezed her thigh, his other hand held a leather leash, attached to the collar buckled around Monica’s throat. She exhaled another cloud of smoke, her eyes leaving leather boy. She looked away and suddenly her green eyes met mine. A punch to the gut is what I felt as I moved toward them.
Leather boy’s eyes pivoted to see me standing only two feet from him, in his space. He moved to climb off his bar stool but stopped. “Don’t try it,” I snarled at him, my hackles raised like an alpha wolf ready to rip his throat out.
I seized Monica by the arm and she was off her stool. Leather boy let go of her leash as I dragged her down a dark hall with huge window panes to watch a kink scene in every room.
“You’re not even into leather!” I snarled, shoving her back to a wall, I kept a hard grip on her arm, making sure she couldn’t slide away from me. No. We had too much to discuss, like her obvious betrayal.
“How did you find me?” Monica’s jaw dropped, and her brows shot up.
“How long you been fucking leather poser out there?” I pulled the half pack of matches and tossed them at her. It bounced off her tits and fell to the floor. My teeth clenched so hard, I felt a molar crack. No. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t stand there and look at the shocked look on her face. I couldn’t wait for her to spew out another lie. I grabbed her arms and shook. “How fucking long Monica!”
“Six months!”
It felt like a slap to my face. The mercury in the temperature of my blood was at boiling point.
She had the stupid courage to actually smile then, “I was the one in control this whole time Drake! Not you! I used you for practice! I sharpened my submissive abilities with you! So, I can be the very best submissive to my one and only Master, Mr. Smith!”
“Leather boy out there? He’s not a Dominant, you stupid girl!” I jerked her chin up to me roughly “My little slut is no longer mine to cherish, to protect, to lavish her with pretty things. Goodbye, Monica. Practice with some other fool.” I relaxed my jaw, letting her go, and chuckled.
I turned and walked out of the Velvet Dungeon a year ago. The bond and trust between a Dominant and submissive were broken that night.
Chapter 6
Candace
Itriedmybestto not allow my mind to wander last night, but it did. I had one of the most beautiful creatures on this planet underneath me, plowing a dildo deep inside her until she was begging me to cum. She knew better, though. And she did it for show. Lusy is an excellent actress, and quite the brat, always trying to get her way.
What Lusy never quite gets, is that I choose when to allow her to get her way. She begged and pleaded like a hungry little slut, and that’s when I chose to bring my mouth to her budding clit, clenching down hard while I roughly fucked her with the huge cock. She came undone in seconds, squirting all over the place. I slid the dildo out after a few moments, teasing her, watching her body writhe with every thrust and then began to lick her clean.
I wake up in my bedroom at club crimson and immediately head into the bathroom, needing a hot shower to wash away all of the pain and I’m not talking physical, I’m talking emotional. I turn the water to the hottest that it can possibly be and walk right in. It’s like every time I go to visit my father, all of this emotional pain resurfaces and comes all the way up to the very top of my head. So, if I choose to believe that by taking a scolding hot shower, it will destroy all of the said emotional pain. I’m usually good.
After all, I don’t get to cry.
I’mCandace.
I am never allowed to show weakness and need to be presentable at all times. I laugh to myself, brushing my fingers through my wet hair. I can psychoanalyze as much as I want, but it won’t change a damn thing. Nothing ever will.
I’m quick to wash my hair and get out, blow-drying and straightening it quickly before walking back into my bedroom. I’m here a good bit and because of that, I make sure to have the selection of wardrobe choices for any occasion. There’s not really any outfit that says let’s go see your Dad who’s probably going to die in a federal penitentiary, but hey… I make it work.
I pick out a blouse that will surely make him laugh and smile. It’s funny. He may have disappointed me my entire life, but I still look to make him smile whenever the occasion arises. It’s the thirteenth, which should be deemed a lucky day for me since I live in Vegas… but it isn’t.
