Switch (A BDSM Romance Novel)

by Astrid Knowles

  "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.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Time had no meaning anymore, and the hours and seconds of days melted together, marked only by the changing of the thin strip of light that slid through the gap in Jenna’s curtains. Nothing else did she pay attention to, not even work when she went back.

  The first few days she begged off sick, her hoarse voice and bunged up nose lending themselves well to her façade. It wasn’t strictly false of course; she truly was in no state to work. She moped hopelessly, lying unmoving and unentertained in her bed, the bed which now seemed far too large for her own meagre needs. She didn’t sleep, or eat. She barely left the room, only removing herself from her warm cocoon to enter the bathroom and gulp a couple of mouthfuls of water down from the cup that she used when brushing her teeth; she had all she needed in that bedroom and bathroom, what point was there to anything else? None at all, is what she concluded.

  After that brief reprieve, Jenna returned
to her job, her awful hate-filled position where she had to listen pointlessly to the moaning of another, problems that she often drowned out due to their seemingly unimportant nature. Jenna tended to nod along while humming under her breath, barely even sparing a glance at the woman who employed her. After all, Suzannah’s problems through Jenna’s eyes were of no concern to her. And yet still she spoke of anything and everything in dulcent tones, while Jenna remained silent, feeling with absolute certainty that Suzannah had no clue as to the pain that life now was for her, day after day.

  She went to Aaron and Viola’s when they inquired after her following the week and a half of silence that they received from her, and that routine was re-established, too.

  In fact the only routine that needed to be put back into its rightful place was that of her going to Amelia’s parties. She begged off of three, while Amelia’s sympathy allowed it, however the magical recoveries from whichever ailment she had used as an excuse to get out of the Friday gatherings were gone by Monday, and by her lunch with the small, redheaded Dominant. Amelia was firm with getting her back into the strong rhythm of their old meetings, refusing to pander to Jenna’s self-loathing and self-pity. She refused to offer reassurance in the form of anything other than helping to maintain the routine that Jenna had long stuck to, and the firm, precise answering of the questions that Jenna would occasionally ask. She didn’t sweep Jenna’s fears or queries under the rug, but neither did she allow her to dwell on them. She did, however, ‘remind’ Jenna about the gatherings, in the form of asking her what time she would attend.

  And so it came that she was forced to attend the fourth, a hectic swirling of butterflies in her stomach shocking her; she did not feel as though she would hate it. Instead of pure misery at the thought of attending, Jenna felt excited and aroused at the thought of the lust-filled evening and a chance to see Henry.

  When she thought of it like that, it was bizarre to think that she had spent so much time away.

  She took extra time on her appearance that evening, dressing herself meticulously and practicing a happy smile in the mirror that only felt slightly like betrayal. As her anticipation grew, she realised that it might not even be needed.

  She arrived even earlier than usual, determined to meet the expectations that she had enforced herself, standing on their doorstep long before the guests were supposed to arrive, the early blossoms that had sprung shielding her from the not yet set sun. She was thinner than usual, having lost weight during her days-long sulks, but she wore the lighter body with pride. She wore nothing over the top of her corset and pencil-skirt, instead showing off the curves of her body to whoever might wish to see them, regardless of their opinion of her. After all, what did it matter? She could turn up here without Henry. She could do anything.

  She jogged nervously on the spot as she waited, listening as the door’s answerer drew closer, and flung her arms around Dom the moment that he appeared through the tall frame.

  “Hi! I’m so sorry I’ve been such a dick lately, really… I mean it.” She pressed her lips to his cheek in a friendly gesture, hugging him tighter. “You two have both been so wonderful. I’m sorry I’ve been such a tosser…”

  “Language!” Amelia sang as she drew near to the embracing couple, but her tone was bubbly at Jenna’s husky, apologetic voice, and a large smile lifted her often austere face. Her eyes sparkled as she deftly transferred Jenna from Dom’s arms to her own, kissing her chastely and running a finger down her cheek. “It is good to see you back with us.” She told her before releasing her, turning on her heel to walk back into their spacious living room.

  “And both of you can sort out the food!”

  Jenna was overcome with relief initially, at the realisation that truly nothing had changed, but that faded soon enough – she soon forgot that she had ever been absent or that she had a reason to not want to show her face. She peeled potatoes and sliced carrots, Amelia having decided that some warm foods would be welcomed that evening. She then polished cutlery and placed plates onto a collection of large tables that gave eating space. A couple more sofas had been added too, and they had all been placed in a large circle around a pile of cushions, leaving plenty of space for the people using it to manoeuvre unhindered. All of it was done with Dom, and the joked that he made as he cooked more and more inappropriately shaped pasta, grinning mischievously all the while as he snuck glances at Amelia’s turned back like a child trying to sneak cookies behind his mother’s back.

  Of course, he wasn’t a child, and his punishment if he continued to deliberately rile up Amelia would definitely befit only a brat. Since he was begging for it, she could hardly punish him in the usual manner used for play.

  Particularly anything that they did do for play. Instead he would likely have to face a limit, a soft limit but a limit nonetheless, and then spend some uncomfortable time in contemplation without any relief from his response to his Mistress’s treatment of him.

  Amelia was quite fearsome when she wanted to be, and Jenna had not even any real indication of how she could behave with her sub. Frowning slightly she realised that she didn’t even know what Dominic needed. Then again, it wasn’t her job to.

  As usual, the place began to fill slowly, with newbies arriving a little earlier than most, and Dominic and Jenna grabbed some cold nibbles to take over to one of the sofas, a small seat that would only fit three people at a push.

  Luckily, that other seat had already been taken by Amelia’, but Jenna knew that as more and more people arrived there would be bodies perched on chair arms and seated between their Masters’ feet. Even so, there would likely then be a row stood behind the seating, and Dom and Jenna quickly settled themselves in for the long haul. Eating a bizarre mixture of Doritos and cheese, they gossiped about the guests as they began filling up the room, some immediately accepting Amelia’s offers of food and seating themselves at the large table while others, like Nicki and Mike, seated themselves in the circle and spoke among themselves while nibbling on titbits.

  They stared at the door, as Jenna was wont to do, giggling as they rose to kneel on the soft seats and throw wide waves of their arms towards those that they were familiar with. Despite her emptiness, Jenna was the life and the soul of the party, the smiling, giggling and friendly smaller part of herself that overcompensated for her own sarcasm and dry sense of humour by behaving in a manner that was a charade designed to convince herself.

  Despite herself, she fell into it effortlessly, enjoying the company of others far more than she had in recent months. In her absence she realised that the lives of others had gone on without her, and now she took a bittersweet delight in catching up on all that she had missed. A pang ran through her as Clara, Arthur and Sarah made their entrance, a rather stylised procession into the living room that ended with the linked and leather clad individuals slinging themselves into the large circle, the entire room immediately hushing as Amelia dimmed the lights and some safely contained candles were lit. An immense atmosphere immediately spread through the room, a buzz of anticipation that brought all of the individuals together as excited glances were shared between people who had never even shared a word; only the experience of the exquisite act that was to come.

  Clara’s shy features were now spread into a wide, sly grin that narrowed her eyes and forced her small, pinched nose into prominence, her mousy hair scraped back to create an even more cat-like tilt to her eyes. The leather cat-suit suited her to perfection, the wide oval of bare flesh making it painfully obvious how the long swishing cat tail was attached. It moved with her every step, her arse cheeks moving with it and her breasts visibly bare through the skin-tight material. Her heels were tall, far taller than Jenna had seen even Amelia wear in the past, and they helped her to appear Dominant over Sarah, who looked positively miniscule in her nudity, stood between the pair. A silver anklet adorned one pale ankle, and her collar was leashed twice, one cord in the hand of each of her partners. Clara wore a collar too, and this one was leashed
once, held in the hand of the very happy looking Arthur.

  Smug was the word that really sprung to mind.

  He kissed each of them lightly on the mouth before giving a non-verbal command for them to enter into their positions, an imperious flick of his wrist that saw both of the women instantly jumping to do as expected while Arthur pulled several items from his bag and then tossed the enduring material aside. He lowered his head and clasped his hands behind his back, the entire audience holding their breath as the show began.

  Sarah appeared serene, knelt on the hard floor, protected by the large pile of cushions that had been thoughtfully placed there. She seemed captive on her tower, as though the mountain were thousands of metres high and could not be scaled by anything other than the largest, most ferocious of individuals. The candlelight flickered over her, the sight of the flames adding to the mystery and the danger of their performance. Having never observed this, Jenna’s attention was caught.

  Arthur was menacing, bathed entirely in darkness as the light was carefully focused onto Sarah, the edges of it lighting up Clara who stood nearby, her hips swaying as if preparing to move, the tail continuing its seductive movements as the mousy woman stared at the serene pixie like a panther stalking its prey. She stepped one foot forwards, her hips rolling somewhat as she placed it directly in front of the other, and Jenna felt wetness well in her pussy as she watched, her tongue swiping her lips as she thought on the delicious feel that the plug must make shifting naughtily in Clara’s bottom with every step that she took. It would be inside her, fucking her as she punished Sarah, the otherworldly faerie who looked so unsuspecting in her serenity. Jenna’s gaze was keen as she eagerly waited for the events to proceed.

  It was a delicious tease, both for the audience and for Sarah with her closed eyes. Clara managed to remain near silent, covering the quiet clacking of her heels on the floor with more slow, torturous steps both towards and away from the woman. She circled her, entirely fixated, no sign of a stutter of blush present on her now. She had changed, allowed herself to flourish in the company of her new partners, a divine blooming that startled Jenna in its newness to her. She’d been around, had she not, when the woman had started to see Arthur and his sub? She had been around as they drew closer and the beautiful couple accepted the ordinary Clara as a part of their family?