Switch (A BDSM Romance Novel) (5 page)

“Why not? Do you have a wife that you are secretly hiding from me?”

“No. This isn’t Jane Eyre, I swear. No crazy wives in the attic.”

“What do you mean then?” She asked innocently.

“I’m… not currently in the best of circumstances to support you.” The room was silent as they both contemplated his meaning, Jenna trying to decide which approach to take with her prideful Dominant.

“Who said I needed supporting?” She pleaded, her voice tiny. “This is exactly how my life is at the moment. It would just be so much better if it had you in it.”

“
I’m unemployed.” He told her. “I don’t feel comfortable staying with you without being able to take care of you in any way.”

“You can take care of me; in every way that I want a Dominant to take care of me! If you want to work, then we’ll look for a job, but I don’t see how that is of any consequence!”

“I have no
home
.” He snapped. “I live on the fucking streets.”

“Then your home can be with me.
If you have nowhere else to be, then surely this is better than nothing? You can’t
want
to stay alone!”

She was frantic, twisting around to glare angrily at the calmly defiant man. He glared back, but his eyes were hurt.

“Stay here?” He questioned. “In exchange for what? Do you know how pathetic that makes me feel?”

“Well it
’s hardly pity!” She scoffed. “I don’t really need anything in exchange right now. I’d just like you to stay here and share my bed. God.” She hissed. “Don’t be so prideful.”

“Well I’m sorry if I am so ridiculous to you.” He whispered and Jenna sighed, her whole body softening as she reached out to sweep his hair from his face.

“You are not ridiculous to me,” She explained. “I just find it ridiculous that you won’t let me help you. Instead of staying here,” She kissed his jaw chastely. “You would rather stay out there, suffering. It’s getting colder, you know. I care about you. I'd rather you didn’t die of hypothermia.”

“You aren’t even going to ask how I ended up out there? If I’m a drug addict? If I’m a
criminal
?”

Jenna shook her head and pressed her lips against his, slowly kissing them until they parted. “I don’t think that you are either of those things. I also think that if you want me to know then you will tell me. I trust you.” She added strongly. “More than anyone.”

She rose from the sofa and stretched her body lithely like one of her pet cats, her spine arching flexibly. “Want some lunch?”

“I think it
’s passed lunch time.” He told her stiffly.

“Dinner then?”

A few moments passed and then he nodded tightly, rising and pulling on his trousers from where he had discarded them the night before. “I’ll help.” He stated, and Jenna smiled, tugging him into the kitchen with her.

She k
new that she had as good as won, and several days later she celebrated in silence as it truly hit her that he would stay.  

No longer living for Amelia’s parties, Jenna found her weekends to be one long, heated play session, during which time seemed stilled, as if anything and everything could happen and the week still would not be anywhere in sight. There was no rushing for them,
only extended periods of play and care that were more intense and more
real
than anything that Jenna had previously experienced. By the time that Monday came, Jenna wondered what it was and where it had come from, yet she found herself calmer and with a greater ability to tackle it than she had ever felt before. By her break she found the feeling fading, settling back into her usual routine as she somehow convinced herself that nothing that extraordinary could have happened, she could never have taken anything to overwhelming or painful, and, of course, there was no way that one man could be so good in bed.

She only had to wait until Friday until he proved it to her all over again.

It was after one such weekend that Jenna could be found feeling pretty rough, and running so as to get to Amelia’s store before her lunch break ended entirely. Her whole body seemed to ache from the workout, and now pain shot through her muscles as she broke into a run without warming up.

I need to do more exercise…

The store was large and busy, the highlight of which being that she may not be noticed, the downside being that the customers were more likely to gossip.

The establishment was as elegant and classy as it was possible for such a place to be, a bar like area at the front while anything particularly distasteful or unusual was hidden behind a door, far out of sight for random passers-by; the most probably reason why Amelia’s shop had never received
complaints. Through the wide, open windows all that could be seen was a wide expanse of bare polished floor and different sized matching tables surrounded by chairs of two heights. Many of the tables were occupied by the larger size, the chairs all level and one per reasonable space. Other tables however, had large chairs beside small stools, tiny seats on which a submissive could sit at their Master or Mistress’ knee. A large wooden counter held cakes and the like, but other than that the room was mostly bare, and spotlessly clean, the main attraction being a large, winding wooden staircase. A vase of flowers and some menus lay artfully arranged on each table and the white walls were decorated only with images, paintings and photographs for sale that while large close up appeared tiny if one were to view the room as a whole. It was open and inoffensive, the perfect exterior. The café itself drew in customers, happily ignorant vanilla couples that entered for the intimacy of the place, who saw hand feeding as lovers’ flirting and pretended that there was no black beaded curtain and the illustrations were mere works of art, metaphorical photographs of people who could not truly exist. They formed the normality, inviting passers-by to come inside and be served by the polite, natural beauties that were Amelia’s waiters.

Amelia herself lurked behind the curtain, in the larger and ever busier area of the store, her professional attire and manner blending in seamlessly with her scantily dressed staff and the instruments that she held for demonstration.
Jenna felt not one blink of embarrassment as she stroked over to that black curtain, grinning happily at the art-expert come doorman who swiftly drew the curtain aside, a low bow making her chuckle as she quickly said hello.

“Well, Dom’s in good spirits.” She remarked, swinging herself behind the counter next to her seated friend, whose sharp gaze was on her patrons, eagerly watching as they perused her stock.
The dirties of Amelia’s products lay here, while the upstairs, openly invited all who entered to glance around the tasteful lingerie and romantic novels. It was sweet and the helpful, uniform-clad till staff knew when to back off and allow the blushing young women to search through without added embarrassment. It was the sort of place that Jenna, in her late teens and early twenties, would have loved but been shy of entering. Everywhere that she had gone in her youth, Jenna had carried the feeling that her mother was watching her, or that somehow someone else would pick her up on it.

Amelia sighed, neatly placing a pricing sticker on a plastic-wrapped riding crop, her slim hands encased in thin white gloves that she peeled off and binned after placing the toy aside.

“He’s been recommending things to everyone who passes him. With this many people, he’s in paradise.” Amelia shot her an apologetic look as she stood. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t leave. It’s just too hectic.”

“It’s no problem.” Jenna replied, and it wasn’t. She loved the smell and the sight of Amelia’s shop, the playful fascination with which couples would eye the products, and the guilty blush that would so frequently be worn by the newbies. On a much less crowded day,
slaves would crawl along the floor, their Masters smiling indulgently as they nosed through things that excited them. There were, in fact, some pet bowls that Amelia would place on the floor; one laden with cake and the other filled with water for the pets to consume while she spoke with their owners. Jenna herself had wandered through the wonderful toy store, hand in hand on occasion, with some wonderful Dominant that she thought would last forever.

They ate lunch quickly, seated at a table beside the till as they purposefully consumed the food
, their speed impeding their small talk. They were back in the dungeon of delights before long, able to move freely throughout the people as some of the packing dissipated.

Some, but not all.

A hefty amount of customers remained and a wide, happy grin overtook Jenna’s features, the volume of which mirrored Dominic’s clear delight at his Mistress’ success. She laughed softly, craning her neck to stare at all around her. “There are so many people here!”

“I know!” Amelia smiled, too, her voice a little higher than usual with excitement. “I still think that it won’t last, but I’ve started looking at new premises anyway…”

The redhead stopped talking smoothly, but Jenna watched in amusement at the abrupt manner in which she shifted, the small Dom striding over to a small man in a wide brimmed hat, his brow furrowed as he compared two whips, peering through the plastic rather than holding the unpackaged testers that lay next to them.

Amelia cut in easily,
her hands reaching to lightly lift each one in turn as she explained their different lengths, weights and uses. Jenna tuned out, her attention once again wandering elsewhere as a large, moving mass of leather caught her eye.

Stood with another, a
similarly dressed blonde, Craig was idly leaning over his companion’s shoulder to admire something that Jenna could not quite see but glinted in the light when he moved. Whatever it was, he rolled it through his fingers, sharing the occasional word with the other man, who bent forwards to have a closer look at the item which Craig was holding.

“KITTY!” Amelia’s voice was a command rather than a shout, but it still roused Jenna away from her nosy nature as it sounded in her ear, accompanied by the tinkling of a small bell that drew Kitty, Amelia’s female demonstration buddy, towards her. They would not play as such, only show the movements to certain implements with the lightest hits possible. To Jenna, the idea of such a job seemed like torment; days on end of teasing with no hope of anything more.

Kitty was tall and thin, her well-kept body moulded to the black clothing that she wore; the strappy black t-shirt that hid her chest but rose up at the hem to bare a small portion of her midriff. Her legs were covered in black, sheer tights that did little to cover the round, firm flesh that peeked out from her tight denim shorts, a faded version of the same colour as her shorts. The only colour that could be seen was the rich, chestnut of her long brown hair, secured back in a neat plait that fell to the middle of her back, and the fluffy pink interior of the cat ears that sat upon her neatly groomed head. Her eyes, whether naturally or through contacts, were dark and feline in appearance. Gracefully, lithely, Kitty walked as one. She walked away from the display of outfits, a vast variety of animals and other kinks, a black leather catsuit appearing in Jenna’s vision as being worn by the woman. She stopped several feet before Amelia, one foot held in front of the other as though she were a dancer, her hands clasped loosely behind her back.

“This man wishes to see these whips.” Amelia
explained, lifting one plastic-free example from the shelf, placing the other on a small chair next to it. Jenna watched as Kitty turned, bending her flexible body with ease t place the palms of her hands flat on the floor, feet parted. The movement lifted her shorts higher, baring more of her barely covered bottom for inspection. Amelia never stopped talking as she lightly flicked them, giving two swings of each implement before dismissing her, breathing deepened and shorts still high, to go back to her task. Amelia didn’t even glance back as Kitty scurried off, but Jenna’s eyes followed her morosely.

“Doesn’t she get tired of working here?” Jenna asked softly once the customer was gone, packaged whips placed in a discreet bag and gone with him. “Isn’t she allowed a break after?”

Amelia frowned at her, leaning back against the counter as her green eyes allowed a small empathetic warmth to enter them.

“She likes working here.” Amelia replied. “She works here because her Master allows her to; in exchange for the independence of her own job and income, her Master controls where she works and what occurs while she is there. In return he receives a happy, energetic, lustful slave into his arms ever
y night, reeking of her own desire. It is his will that allows her to work here, and any discomfort throughout the day is his will also. I check with her regularly to ascertain that she still feels secure here, and so far she has only had good to say about her employment.”

“But couldn’t she have breaks after a demonstration?” Jenna asked. “She seemed so worked up.”

“What, every time that someone wished to observe a product?” Amelia’s eyebrows almost vanished into her hairline and her fair-haired companion fought the urge to fidget at the piercing look that she received. “Kitty receives the same breaks as the rest of my staff; the ones that I deem mandatory, as discussed with her Master. If Henry were to tell you to do something, you wouldn’t allow others to question it, would you?”

“No,” Jenna replied firmly. “I just feel sympathetic, that’s all.”

Immediately after the words left her mouth she knew that they were wrong. Would she want people to feel sympathetic towards her, as if the situation were poor and she someone to be pitied rather than admired and envied for appealing to such a commanding, beautiful man? No, she would be furious.

“I didn’t think the situation through!”
Jenna cut in quickly, her head bowed and voice apologetic. “I am very sorry, and I am glad that I did not say anything so offensive in front of Kitty herself.”

“Good.” Amelia nodded approvingly. “Make sure next time to observe all angles before commenting so personally on another be it in the lifestyle or otherwise.”

“Yes, Amelia.” Jenna replied obediently, and the corners of Amelia’s mouth twitched up, laughter shining through her eyes.

“So,” She continued, her voice much warmer as she turned to stare around the shop once more. “What do you think Henry would punish you with?”

“Belt or riding crop, most likely.”

“Really? Not so much sensory play?”

“Only if he wants to draw out a scene.” Jenna murmured, a heavy sinking feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. “Why? What did he do when he was teaching you?”

“Whatever appealed to the submissive in play; although he would simply refuse play if the submissive was seriously being punished rather than something like this. Regardless, he always had a more deliberate streak. He seemed especially fond of the things that would leave a more vibrant mark. I remember wax and knife play both being firm favourites, although I never saw him with the knives. He had no submissive, and was very conscious of the intimacy in sharing blades.”

Jenna nodded, silent as she glared unseeingly through a collection of plugs. She barely noticed Craig as he passed her, a bag in his hand and his friend close behind him. Once they were gone, Amelia continued as if there had been no pause for Craig’s purchases.

“He is a very good Dominant.” She added. “He does what he feels best for the person that he is with. I know that all Dominants make mistakes, but Henry as never made one in all the time that I have known him.”

“Really?” Jenna asked, her eyes wide in amazement.

“Really.” Amelia confirmed. “If I were prone to such a thing – which I’m not – I would trust him with my life.”

Well that seemed as good a commendation as any, and Jenna left feeling content.