Switch - a full length bdsm erotic novel by Clarice Clique Page B

that could kill enough time before bed.
    No thinking.

Chapter Six - Crimson
    Dean didn’t think he had ever been as familiar with anything in his life as he now was with the square foot of carpet he stared down at. He knew the exact proportion of the leaves to the flowers, how many petals, how many fronds; the spot which for a long time he puzzled over being an asymmetric part of the pattern, but eventually decided was a food stain, probably curry.
    He tried to follow the plot from the voices on the television; he thought it was about a man having an affair with his wife’s sister, but then one of the women – he didn’t know which as he kept getting confused between the wife and the sister, making the plot seem more convoluted than it probably was – said she was a lesbian and he gave up trying to work it out.
    Thinking about anything except the woman’s feet resting on his back became more and more difficult with every passing minute, until it was impossible. She didn’t move at all. There was no respite, no relief. He never realised that such a small part of a lady’s body could feel so heavy. The material of her tights irritated his skin; the heels on her shoes were digging into his flesh to the extent that he seriously imagined them sticking right through and protruding out of his ribs.
    ‘Are you enjoying yourself, worm?’ Mistress Crimson asked in a voice that sounded like she already was fully aware of the answer.
    ‘Could I have a break, please, mistress? Or could I please ask you to move your feet a bit if it wouldn’t be too much trouble?’
    She pulled her feet away and prodded him in the side. As soon as the pressure was removed, Dean regretted asking her to move. He thought of the silky material of her tights against his skin, how close he was to touching her, and it sent a thrill of regret and excitement pulsing through him.
    ‘That wasn’t even half an hour. I don’t know why I changed my mind and bothered to contact you again. What use are you? No wonder that blonde doesn’t want to marry you.’
    If only that was the truth, Dean thought.
    ‘I’m very pleased you did contact me,’ he said. ‘I really want to serve you and learn. Would you like me to do some more cleaning?’
    ‘Stand up and let me have a proper look at you.’
    Dean stood up. He kept his hands by his side but he had a childish urge to use them to preserve his modesty. He was more conscious of his nudity now than when she’d commanded him to undress on his arrival.
    He looked at her as she gazed at his body. Her face didn’t look impressed; it looked more like she was suppressing laughter. Was this part of the mistress act to further humiliate him, or was it the true effect he had on women when they saw him naked?
    ‘Would you like me to do some more cleaning, like I did last time?’ He repeated his question more to break the silence than anything else, but ever since that day when she’d invited him over, he’d wanked up to three times a day mentally reliving each and every moment of the encounter. He hadn’t believed his luck when he’d heard from her again.
    ‘Yeah. You can go and scrub the oven out. And make sure you do it properly.’
    Despite the work and cleaning fumes that made him choke, Dean’s cock was alive with yearning and desires. He longed to study himself in a mirror to see whether Mistress Crimson’s heels had left permanent marks in his skin. She was so confident, the way she told him what to do without a doubt that he’d obey her. Her husband was blessed.
    Dean was blessed that she’d chosen to see him again. There were a hundred reasons why she wouldn’t and none he could think of for why she would want his company again.
    A fit of coughing struck him but he resumed his scrubbing with extra fervour. If he could get all these black bits out and discover the shiny metal underneath, maybe she’d reward him by letting him lick her out this time.
    The thought made him hard.
    But how did you