Switch (A BDSM Romance Novel) (12 page)

She drew in a breath, and drew back the belt, once more striking his surprisingly fragile form, the deity which she would have given her life for reduced before her into the state of the unworthy, the slave who believes that their purpose lies in the serving of their Master.
Over and over, the leather hit the man, drawing sharp hisses and occasional moans, from both the striking and the strength, creating a beautiful symphony; a lie that felt real in such a trance-like state.

It wasn’t a matter of power after a while, as she wielded the weapon. The state in which she usually put herself was out of reach, unattainable, however another such one was found in this. She had to be aware, that much she knew from the avid attention that Henry lavished upon her during scenes, however she felt herself slipping into something more. She almost forgot about Henry’s pain, and the way it must feel to him to have the material slapping into his bottom. No, instead she watched the tightening and loosening of his muscles as they became predictable to her, and lost herself in the absolute beauty of eliciting such natural, instinctive responses from the parted and dry lips of the man who willing placed himself in her power. She almost forgot why she shouldn’t be trusted, why she shouldn’t want to continue, and instead pushed herself into pleasing him. She listed and observed, and came to know each and every reaction that he had, dependant on where she hit him with the belt, and how much force she put behind it. She drove him to tears, open outpouring of salty tears as he remained still and empty of all hatred and anger. Only then did she place it aside and tenderly coax him to lift his head, kissing away the trail of release while he shifted his hips awkwardly, in search of release of another kind.

She murmured to him softly, petting his hair away from his sweaty face, kissed his hairline and told him eagerly of how good he had been, how amazing he was and the effect that he had on her.

The words caught in her throat at the thought that he always would, that all she had to do was think of him to behave in a more appropriate manner, to feel better about herself.
Instead she coughed, clearing her throat, and reached for a small container that she had placed aside, spreading the cooling cream over his bruised flesh with the same fixation and care that she had taken in placing such marks of ownership on his body in the first place.

It was a shame that they wouldn’t last.

She lowered herself to her knees, the rough carpet scraping over her legs and forcing the stockings to push roughly against her, imprinting their pattern.
She sighed softly, earning the same response from Henry as her cool breath fanned over his blistering arse, improving the work of the cream. Chastely, she pressed kisses to him, making sure not to aggravate the punished skin further. Light as a feather she kissed him better, her hands running over his lower back and legs as if calming an ill-tempered horse.

“You’re amazing.” She whispered. “You are my everything.”

Henry tensed his whole body locking and another hiss of pain leaving his lips as his buttocks clenched together, Jenna staring blankly at him before rising once more. She tottered a couple of steps before returning to him with a bottle of water in hand. She unscrewed it, and lifted his head, pressing it against his lips and tipping confidently. He swallowed eagerly, large gulps of the liquid tipping down his parched throat and down his chin, due both to Jenna’s inexperience in feeding another, and Henry’s eagerness for the refreshment.

“Thank you, Miss.” He growled softly, a small
smile lifting his sweet face.

“You’re welcome sweetheart.” She replied, torn. “You definitely deserve it.”

She observed him a few moments more, her eyes welled up with tears that she refused to shed before she removed the sodden silk from his eyes, turning away to place in down on the bedside table. Before he could adjust to the sudden influx of light, Jenna sank to her knees once more.

As she had done so many a time before, she took him into her mouth to pleasure him, only this time she did so without the ego-inflating praise that usually ensued. Henry did not grab for her, or move in any way. He stayed perfectly still, submissive and silent, and still Jenna carried on.

She would know, after all, when she pleased him. He would groan, and jerk into her mouth. When she had pleasured him all that she could, his seed would invade her mouth lingering inside of her.

And that was all that she could do.

She took her time, and yet it was over far too quickly in a yelp, a hiss and the grip of his hands finally in her hair. She remained there afterwards, her head set in his lap, nuzzling lovingly as she listened to his ragged breathing slowly even out, drifting oddly somewhere between awake and asleep.

“Thank you.” She whispered, but Henry sat up fully once more, gently but insistently removing her from him.

“It is inadvisable to engage in activities with a Dom whom you are not in a relationship with.” He counselled. “Even though we are at a friend’s, we are not at a play party, and any play is a risk undertaken by each of us.

Maybe I will see you then.”

He spoke in a detached manner, without any emphasis in a deliberate manner, and Jenna felt another flood of uncertainty rush through her as she pushed herself to her feet and turned away.

“Maybe I will.” She whispered, but the promise that she knew would be broken forced the waterfall to cascade over her smooth cheeks, pooling on her jaw as she walked away and didn’t look back.

Henry stared perplexed after her, his tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes retaining the look of a shattered man.

Jenna ran blindly down the hall, choked up and lost through the pain that blacked out all light from her vision. There were only shapes, like a child with closed eyes raised up to the sun, only to find things shifting and changing to give small glimpses of light and shadow that could not fully be distinguished. It was like watching clouds as they moved and took on new forms before she could even fully explain the last. It was dizzying and sickening.
Beyond anything, it was terrifying.
Lack of sight had never bothered her, as she had only moved under the guidance of another. Now she moved alone, reaching her hands out before her in case of walls and other objectst that set themselves in her way. She felt along as if searching for the light switch in the dead of night, fumbling with the slightly irrational fear of a terrifying being making itself known at the least opportune of times. She felt as if she were going in circles; if she was, then how would she know?
She wouldn't.
She carried on moving regardless, hurtling recklessly until every converged around her, suffocating her.
She gasped as her throat tightened, squeezing from her the last precious tendrils of oxygen, drawing them out of her and leaving her almost unable to scream as she hit against something solid. Her cheek smacked against it, rising a sound more of an oomph than a shriek from her lips as she fell back  away from it, only to be drawn dizzily back in.
The unknown being stroked her hair, murmuring soothing words but Jenna wasn't listening. She was frightened and fighting and devoid of thought she lashed out, clawing at the predatory beast.
"Don't touch me!" She screamed. "Leave me alone!"
The monster didn't listen, heaving her over its shoulder and turning to drag her away to its lair. It seated her on its lap as it sat on a perfectly made and oddly familiar bed, continuing on with the whispers that she ignored.
She settled after a time, stopping her fruitless bids for freedom; after all, what did it matter when she no longer had her Dom? She felt somewhat quietened by the low rumble regardless of distinguishing the words. Eventually she fell lulled into it, completely peaceful in the arms of this unknown being, these arms that felt somewhat familiar. A short time later, another voice appeared, and the two creatures spoke, of her or to her she did not know.
Before long, she drifted into a disturbed sleep, full of pictures and flashes of the things that frightened her and of arms holding her and hands soothing her as sweet words were spoken. She came back to herself slowly, her skin clammy and a large sense of
wrongness
eradiating from somewhere deep inside of her. She could feel Henry, the saviour from her dream that kept her safe and asked her to wake, to come back to him, to ignore the voices that were permeating her dream unwanted. She felt a calm happiness, not the dizzying bouts that were so susceptible to change, but a consistent contentment. When she felt arms around her, and knew that she was awake, she allowed herself the small piece of pure joy and love, let it fill her and consume her in the most innocent of ways before accepting its lack of reality.
Her Henry smelt different. His arms felt different.
He wouldn't be speaking to a woman - Amelia - while he held her.
Well, he certainly wouldn't be calling her Mistress.
"Dom?" She asked foggily, already knowing the answer even before he opened his mouth to reply. It was painful to hear and Jenna immediately closed her mouth once more, the dry cottony feeling aiding her mind's apparent bid to make her feel as pathetic, childlike and unworthy as possible.
"Hey there, Petal." Dom smiled, a small genuine smile that was filled with sadness but thankfully not pity. "Good to see you back with us. You've been asleep a while."
But apparently not long enough. Anything was better than waking to this reality. The lack of her lover was a pain deeper and more fierce than anything that she had ever experienced at his hand.  
"Jenna, are you alright?" He asked, but Jenna didn't answer. She only listened as everything seemed too loud for her suddenly oversensitive ears. Amelia murmured under her breath, Dom cleared his throat. Footsteps could be heard down the hall, but the carried on past this room and clunked down stairs.
"One minute." Amelia excused herself, and Jenna almost cringed at the squeak of the door as she carelessly swung it shut behind her. It didn't close, instead remaining opened slightly, and Jenna felt the peculiar sense that she
should
be crying as she heard the low voiced conversing outside of the door. They spoke in whispers both hushed and angry, and Jenna knew, deep down, who Amelia was speaking to, and who it was that they were discussing.
It didn't even matter.
Instead of fury she felt empty.
She wasn't empty as if open and clean.
She was empty as if broken. Something inside of her was missing, incapable of conjuring the appropriate response to the situation. It was only by the cool trickle that she could feel her eyes overflowing once more. No sobs or scrunched up eyelids and gasping breaths accompanied. It was as if she were a container, a vessel that had sprung a leak. No, it was fractured in a way that could not be put back together to create the same simple, unassuming image as before. She was drained and sunken. A boat lost at sea.
Amelia returned quickly, and she and Dom shared long looks and mouthed words that Jenna had not the energy to apply much attention to. What would be the point? She was not worthy of the attention. What she was to know they would say to her. She would wait quietly to be told what to do, and she would do it in her perfect monotony.
"Jenna, we are going to go into the kitchen and get something to eat." Amelia told her. "You'll feel a little better once you have eaten, and it will certainly help you with feeling faint."

She got up as Amelia clearly wanted her to do, but a part of her recoiled against the idea. The kitchen? That open space where any member of the house could be?

Amelia reached out for her and grasped her hand, tugging her slowly forwards. "Don't worry." She told her. "He won't be here."

Jenna nodded numbly and began to walk, the cloud hastening away, and yet her speed did not increase. She was aware of her physical capabilities being much greater, and yet she confined herself to the weary rhythm of a person much less capable, feeling a small comfort in Amelia's hand in hers. She couldn't get lost now, surely. She snailed her way down the stairs, leaning into the smaller woman as she was taken into the familiar kitchen. She felt weightless as she sat down, unable to feel the chair beneath her. She sat tall and silent, her hands folded in her lap as she waited for Amelia or Dom to speak.

"What do you feel like eating?" Amelia asked, placing several buffet-style foods onto the table in front of her. She then placed a plate and, when Jenna failed to move, proceeded to fill it.

She filled another plate too, seating herself down beside her as she pushed Jenna's closer to her in a clear instruction to eat it. Dom, too, sat down.

They immediately dug into their food and turned their conversation to the idle talk which easily whittles down to nothing. They left gaps between each topic before bringing up the new polite conversation. They talked about things such as Amelia's business, a friend of their, a new toy that they wanted to try out or place that they wanted to go to. In short, they discussed all of the things that they already knew, routinely turning their attention to the quiet submissive who sat at their table, staring at the plate in front of her as if unsure of what it was. She picked at it, sweeping things around the plate without consuming it, an odd expression on her face as she pondered her hidden thoughts.

Amelia and Dom were patient, and their voices quiet. They talked about Clara, and Arthur and Sarah. They talked about Daniel and Craig. Eventually they spoke a couple of sparse lines about
Viola's photography, about the upcoming show. No, they merely introduced it, turning to Jenna in expectation of speech only to be met once more with silence. Nothing was capable, it seemed, of coaxing her out of her shell, and so they focused their efforts on creating a nonchalant normalcy while they waited for her to confide in them.

It took a few hours for her to crack, but she did. They were drinking tea by this point, the fourth or fifth cup; Amelia kept offering them and taking Jenna's silence as an affirmation in an obvious attempt to keep her there as long as possible, to give a reason to her staying there, and to make the time bearable. Finally, the ticking of the clock seemed to her to be speaking of Henry's absence, of the footsteps that she had not heard since he had walked past her shelter in Amelia's room. He ought to be back by now, surely? Neither Amelia or Dom had left the room since the three had wandered into the living room, and neither had gotten out a phone. He did not know that she was still present, and there was only so much justifiable time that he could spend away from his home. So where was he?

"Where is he?" She asked, her voice a hoarse whisper that was met by an exchanged look between Dominic and Amelia.

"He has gone to stay somewhere else for a little while." Dom replied, and Amelia nodded.

"He has found a flat, and was planning to move out in a couple of days anyway. He'll be back at some point for his things, but otherwise I would say that he is no longer living here."

"He'll be back?" She asked desperately.

"Only to collect his things," Amelia told her reassuringly. "And he knows to stay away, so you don't have to worry about a thing."

She couldn't voice the problems that stemmed from Amelia's supposed comfort, and so Jenna relapsed back into a lonely, sorrow-filled silence, wanting to let out an animalistic keen, a sound of pain from someone going into mourning.

He had said, had he not, that they might see one another. What chance was there of that, now?

She made some kind of garbled excuse as to why she had to leave, the words sticking in her throat and morphing into others as she strugged to clearly enounciate feelings and thoughts rather than words. She dressed quickly, doing her best not to look around the horrid room. Her feet felt so much more solid in the flats that they had towering her above others, and the marks from her stockings made her appear more childlike and ugly than desireable and revaged. She was reminded of school socks, rolled down to her ankles and forming tight lines over her calves as she skipped down the road in her school shoes.

She packed her things in the bag that she had brought them in and finally, she placed the silk strip, still smelling of sweat and Henry, into his wardrobe, ignoring with all her might the clothing that belonged to him, deliberately avoiding the sight as she placed it into the pocket of his favourite jacket.

Why he hadn't worn it, she didn't know. Maybe he hadn't been planning on leaving until he spoke with Amelia.

Gathering her things and straightening the bedsheet while staring at the floor, Jenna left the room exactly as it had been when she entered it, with only a silk blindfold to remind him that she had existed and their encounter had been real.

"Henry..." She whispered, allowing her single, longing word to stay in the room as she left it.