Honor Me

  Top Bottom Switch is part of The Club series, interconnected standalones all taking place inside the same, exclusive BDSM club.

  Visit chellebliss.com/theclub for more details

  Top Bottom Switch Prologue

  COMING JUNE 28, 2016

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  I’ve grown bored. It’s not something I’ve ever experienced when it comes to sex. Someone lights my fire for at least a night, but tonight… nothing.

  Being a member of The Club has been a great thing. I’ve made a lot of new friends because of my membership since moving to Karim, Texas. Lately, though, something has been missing. The typical night of fun spent whipping a submissive doesn’t seem to give me the same thrill it did before.

  My reputation usually precedes me. People talk, especially the Club submissives. From what I hear, there are even a few bets being placed on my ability to find a partner. No one has been capable of entertaining me longer than a few nights without boredom creeping in. It’s my failure, not theirs.

  The ladies I spend the night with do everything a Dom could ask. They bend to my will, follow commands, and allow me to push their boundaries. But there’s no light. No fire. Nothing to keep my ember simmering, stoking the flame.

  “Ret, I don’t understand. What’s the problem?” Misha asks in a light Russian accent when he slides into the booth next to me with Stella, his submissive, by his side. “I thought you liked Elle.”

  Turning the glass of scotch in my hand, I grit my teeth and exhale. “I tried with Elle. Twice, I tried. We’re not a fit. She’s just not my type.”

  On the outside, she had everything I wanted. There was instant attraction, but the more I talked with her, the less appealing she became. Maybe it was her willingness to submit so easily that turned me off.

  “I didn’t know you had one.” Misha smirks before patting his leg for Stella to obey. Without hesitation, she climbs into his lap and melts against his body. I envy their relationship—the trust they have in each other.

  “Would you like something to drink, sir?” The waitress stands by the edge of the table, staring down at me from under her lashes, holding the tray against her exposed hip.

  “I’m fine.” Annoyed with myself, I wave her away.

  Misha motions toward the waitress as she walks away, swinging her hips wildly before daring to sneak a backward glance over her shoulder. “Is she your type?”

  “No,” I grumble before taking a long, slow slug of my drink, watching Stella and Misha over the rim before movement to my right catches my eye.

  “Get your filthy hands off me!” Alese, a notorious club switch, yanks free of a man’s hold and spits in his face just outside our private booth.

  He glares at her and lunges toward her. “Get back here, girl!” He’s about to grab her arm when she cracks him across the face.

  Preston Stevens, head of Club security, comes from out of nowhere and catches the man’s hand before he strikes her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  “This bitch,” he snarls, spit flying out of his mouth as he glowers at her. “She wanted to play, and then she runs out of the room screaming like a crazy person.”

  Preston moves between the two, giving Alese some space. “Are you okay, Alese?”

  “I’m fine, Sir.” Alese wipes away the tears that have fallen down her cheeks and peers at the floor, letting her golden hair hide her face.

  “I’m the one wronged. Why are you asking her if she’s okay?” The man asks and takes another step forward, but Preston stops him.

  “That newbie just lost his membership,” Misha mutters before returning his attention to Stella.

  “They better not let him back.” I glare at the man and memorize his face. Although I don’t mind inflicting pain, I’d never treat a woman like a piece of shit as he just did to Alese.

  “May I go, Sir?” Alese asks Preston, crossing her arms in front of her and rubbing her shoulders.

  Preston nods to Alese before glaring at the man, daring him to say another word. “Yes, Alese. You may leave.”

  “Thank you.” She scurries off into the darkness and out of my view.

  “Let’s have a chat in my office,” Preston says to the newbie and points toward the security office.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, you should be escorting that slut out the front door.”

  “Sir,” Preston clears his throat and glances around the room before grabbing the man by the shirt. “Right now, it’s best if you don’t say another word.”

  The asshole mumbles under his breath and knocks Preston’s hand away. “We don’t need to talk. This club is bullshit. I’m done.”

  “We’re sad to see you go.” Preston has a great poker face. When the man stalks off toward the stairwell, Preston walks quickly and motions to another Suit to follow.

  “Maybe you should play with Alese.”

  When I glance over at Misha to reply, what I see stops me.

  He’s whispering in Stella’s ear, stroking her neck, but he’s staring straight at me. Even though I can’t hear what he’s saying, I can’t look away. His hand traces a path down her chest, following the edges of her V-neck dress. “You like that, girl?” he asks loud enough for me to hear.

  Her back arches and she moves toward his touch. “Yes,” she whispers.

  Misha smirks and cocks an eyebrow in my direction. I nod and give him the go-ahead. If I’m not going to spend the night with someone, I may as well watch someone else enjoy himself.

  “Spread your legs,” he tells her, rubbing her nipple through her dress with his thumb. “Keep your eyes closed and don’t come until I tell you to.” She nods and shimmies down his lap before his other hand disappears below the table. “You’re here to please me, girl. You’re my plaything tonight.”

  She nods again as her chest began to rise and fall faster. Her lips part, but not a sound comes out of her mouth.

  My cock hardens inside my pants and my breathing becomes uneven.

  Stella’s a beautiful woman, one of the prettiest in the club, but completely off-limits to me. The way she responds to Misha—to his touch, to his words—turns me on.

  I touch myself, squeezing my cock and praying that my hard-on will subside, but I fail.

  He toys with her nipple, pulling on it, and she sucks in a sharp breath. “You like that, don’t you, girl?”

  She doesn’t speak, but she moves her chest toward his hand. His lips find her neck, licking a path up to her ear. He moans and cups her breast in his palm, tweaking her nipple between his fingers. “You get me so hard. Do you feel how much I want you?” Misha whispers against her ear.

  She moans, squeezing her eyes tighter and causing little creases around the edges. I fist my dick harder, trying to find some relief, but I only make it worse.

  Misha’s arm starts to shake the table as his pace quickens. I can almost smell her arousal from across the booth, and my mouth waters from the scent.

  “Lucky bastard,” I whisper so quietly that only I can hear over the music in the background.

  Stella’s body starts to tremble, her creamy skin glistening under the lights. Her breathing changes and she lets out a small moan.

  Misha’s hand stops and he whispers in her ear. She nods before his hands start to move again under the table. “Open your eyes, Stella. I want Master Ret to watch you fall apart in my lap.”

  Her head slowly moves off his shoulder and her eyes flutter open. I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry when our eyes meet.

  Without breaking eye contact, and with my hand still holding my hardened cock, I pick up the scotch and watch intently over the rim. I try to quell the thirst, but it doesn’t work.

  I don’t need a drink.

  I need a submissive to end my hunger.

  Stella licks her lips, making my situation worse. Setting the glass down on the table, I keep my hand wrapped around it and slide my fingers up and down the wetness.

  Her breath falters and
she blinks slowly, her eyes rolling back for a moment when her mouth falls open. She’s coming on his hand and looking me straight in the eyes.

  I smirk, loving the face a woman makes when she comes. There’s nothing sexier than watching someone shatter.

  When she collapses against him, gasping for air, I use the opportunity to leave. I need to find someone to quench my thirst.