Switch (A BDSM Romance Novel) (2 page)

The sub kept moving, as her master ran his hands over her pink flesh. Jenna kept stil
l, her body throbbing and tense, Nicki’s hard nipple pressed tight against her arm. She could feel the girl’s breaths, as harsh and wanting as her own.

She swayed slightly as she watched the seemingly
inevitable conclusion, her absolute
want
scurrying after the man as he left with the woman lolling pleasantly in his arms.

“Now I’m
really
in the mood…” Nicki whimpered, her sweet voice quiet as she scanned the people hastily dispersing around them and made a beeline for her companion. Left alone, Jenna forced her body to relax as she swept her way back to the refreshments table and to Dom, whose leash had been removed. She picked up a bottle of sprite, only sparing a fleeting consideration for the alcohol that lay, mostly untouched, behind it.

Well, it’s not like you’re going to play.

Nonetheless, she pushed the urge aside and was wandering towards Dominic when a movement caught her eye; the door opening, and another man entering long after the gathering had begun. He was tall, commandingly so with piercing black eyes that flickered everywhere, seeing everything. Dark hair fell just below his chin in messy strands that flicked at the ends, and with his elegant form he looked that an instrument himself. An item to be used against her.

She wasn’t certain if it was
the pent up lust, or the unspoken command that the man projected, but she gravitated towards him. She watched from a distance as he conversed quickly, and often tersely, with a minority of people to whom he was acquainted, and she watched as he was distantly polite while being introduced to others.

He mov
ed to go downstairs, and she went to follow, pulling herself short and turning to Dominic.

“Me ‘n’ Mistress are heading downstairs a while.” He said with a grin. “Wanna come?”

Without thinking, she nodded, discarding her half empty bottle on a table as they passed it.

“Hey, you’d better be helping to clean up.”

She laughed. “No, Dom.” She said sarcastically. “I make a habit of leaving rubbish everywhere for other people to sort out.”

“Sounds like me.” He offered her the paper plate in his hand. “Penis pasta?”

Amelia caught up to them, reattaching the thick cord to her sub’s collar. “We’re going downstairs now, pet.” She told him.

“Just waiting to see if Jenna wants to eat some penis.”

Jenna laughed, and pushed the plate back towards him. “No thanks, Dom.”

He grinned wolfishly, and Amelia gave him a tug. “Come.”

She held a hand out to Jenna too, and Jenna took it, allowing herself to be led through the wooden door and onto the stairs that filled with light as they passed. The room was dark, the only light coming from the four bright spotlights that fell in conical shapes from the ceiling. All four were occupied in some way by equipment, the centre of the room being taken up by a St Andrew’s cross to which an average height man was tied. His stubble covered chin was dripping with sweat, and the surrounding people appeared to be on tenterhooks. More than one submissive clung to a Master’s leg as they sat or knelt before them, and the other three areas were mostly vacated. Jenna was distracted, both from the show and from her search.

The man beside him was sweating too, but his breaths were silent as his chest rose and quivered.
Calm rolled off of him in waves as he reigned himself in, but Jenna knew without a doubt that if her gaze travelled down to his leather clad lower half she would see his hard cock straining for release; exactly the same as the man that was tied to the cross. The strap in his hand was held limp, and he gave the tear streaked man only two more strikes, the slap of the leather on flesh, and the chilling shout of the man reverberating through Jenna as her gaze focused on the object of her venture down into the basement. His dark eyes glittered as he watched, entirely relaxed at the sight before him. She could hear the man being led down, and the commands that followed. The sounds were noticed somewhere inside her, her stance changing at the tone of voice. The dominating tone that slickened her matched itself with the wrong face, the face of the man who she had followed. He was clean shaven, and recently at that, as Jenna could see a couple of drops of blood against his chin. His dark t-shirt and jeans were spotlessly clean, but worn, and he wore soft shoes that would be perfect for long amounts of time spend standing, shifting, and in Jenna’s mind spanking.

He caught her eye, and her breath, and she quickly looked away. When she looked up once more he was gone.
  

Jenna stayed the night with them, as was her norm, and rose early the next morning in a bed more familiar to her than perhaps it should be. It was not a rare occurrence for people, couples or otherwise, to stay with Amelia and Dominic, however Jenna stayed every week without fault. There were others too, such as Daniel and Craig, who stayed most weeks, but it always brought forth a moment of contemplation when Jenna rose and entered someone else’s kitchen to make coffee without qualms.

She made both tea and coffee, knowing Amelia and Dominic to be early risers, and Craig, too. Which of course meant that a grumpy Daniel would be dragged into the kitchen at a time far too early for
him to be pleasant to talk to. She ate muesli, slowly chewing small mouthfuls of it as she listened to the sounds of the building awakening. She pushed the bowl aside as she began to hear the subtle creek of footsteps along floorboards and the pipes accommodating the surge of people entering bathrooms. The not so subtle bounding of Dom’s heavy footsteps down the stairs.

“Mornin’.” He sang, slinging himself into the chair beside her and groaning. “Ahhh… my arse hurts.”

Jenna took a large slug of coffee and swallowed harshly. “Oh, pity you.”

“Don’t be jealous.” Dom reprimanded lightly, wagging a finger in front of her face as he stole a spoonful of her abandoned
muesli. “It is most unbecoming, and were I a more violent person I would whip you black and blue.”

“I resent that.” A deep voice called. “I am not violent in the slightest.”

Dom scoffed, and another masculine voice joined in. Both of which were immediately reprimanded by Amelia, who appeared as if from thin air.

It was as if she could sense mockery a mile off.

After a quarter-length rant by the obviously exhausted Amelia, the group finished up their drinks and began to clean the kitchen collectively, eventually spreading out to check out the havoc elsewhere and search for anyone who might be around.

Other than a rather obviously sated pair and a friend of Amelia’s named Clara, there was no one.
Having seen everything set into motion Amelia calmed and retreated back to the kitchen where she proceeded to make enough food to feed a small army. “Hungry, anyone?” She called loudly, her voice less reserved than it had been the night before and clearly quite shocking to the half-asleep Clara, who Jenna edged towards.

“Hey, you alright?” She asked softly, picking up several paper cups and chucking them into the nearest bin liner.

“Hi.” Clara was short, shorter even than Amelia, and her features and hair were both mousey. Although they had been introduced before, they had spoken little. Her voice was shy, and Jenna had warmed to her quickly. A silence quickly ensued however, and not knowing how to breech it Jenna threw herself into cleaning whilst keeping an ear open in case the mouse decided to make a sound.

Amelia appeared before the atmosphere could stale too far, and plonked three plates of food onto a recently cleared table beside them.
She raised her eyebrows at the two as she raised a forkful of scrambled eggs to her lips. “So,” She murmured around her mouthful. “Either of you have an
eventful
night?”

Clara laughed softly. “I found a couple to play with; they were quite nice. Rather suited to me, too.”

“Ah. Arthur and Sarah?”

“Yeah.” The woman blushed, and Jenna chewed thoughtfully.

“How do you mean ‘suited to you’?”

“I’m a switch.” Clara replied. “And I prefer being with a couple to being with someone on my own.” She shrugged. “I like to have a male dominant and a female submissive, so I got on quite well with Arthur and Sarah.
I’m hoping that they’ll come here more often.” She added cautiously, and looked up to Amelia, who nodded.

“They spoke to me before they left last night, and they seem to have reached the same opinion. They told me to let them know if anything is happening, and they said that they’ll give a more prepared exhibition next time.”

Jenna’s mouth kept on chewing as she considered the threesome that had just been presented for examination. She ate slowly as she thought it through, her brow furrowing as she turned to speak to Clara again.

“How does that work, in a relationship?” She asked.

Clara appeared baffled. “The same as any other.”

“Even though there are three of you?”

“Of course. The dynamics are exactly the same.”

“You don’t allow a dominant man to behave in any way other than what you deem acceptable, do you Jenna?” Amelia cut in. “However a person in a vanilla relationship will assume different.
In this situation it is exactly the same, only Clara for example would be both submissive and dominant according to their hierarchy. Usually if a switch is going to do this is a long term relationship then she will be either Dominant or submissive in nature, and simply either wields power over or defers to the respective partner.”

“Oh. Clara, which are you?”

Clara flashed her teeth as she grinned. “Now that depends on my mood.”

Jenna giggled and, the atmosphere cleared, the three munched on their mood in a calm quiet that Daniel put an end to by yelling at Craig. An hour and a half, and a pro-veggie rant later, Jenna returned to her flat and entered her room of junk, seating hersel
f among the things that reminded her of home.

It was then
staring out of the oversized window, that she realized that she hadn’t asked about the man; the beautiful, dominating, captivating man that had unwittingly held her attention for the most part of the evening. Feeling foolish for wanting to ring Amelia and ask, Jenna pushed him from her mind with a determination that could break the Great Wall of China.

It was a shame that it didn’t last.

Instead of phoning her friend and getting the answers that she sought, she allowed her musings to shift in occasionally, chipping away at the armour that held her together as she sorted through items that did not need sorting and ironed creaseless clothes. He teetered on the brink of her mind in a way that builds anticipation, as if she were to allow herself a forbidden pleasure to think of his lean body, clothed as she had seen it.

In a completely non provocative position, exactly as she had seen it.

It drove her into a frenzy, stalking her flat as if she were searching for something. The cats circled her at regular intervals as she paced in the pursuit of nothing, mewing at her with their tails in the air when she went to pet them in her worked up state.

She must have seemed
mental, she knew.

She was back in the room before she knew it, and he was back in the forefront of things.
He still had the wrong voice attached to him in her lascivious musings; Craig’s voice but different. Craig’s deep, controlling voice that brought any sub, male or female, running to kneel at his feet. Jenna had been entirely unable to resist him from the start. She sighed and flexed her tense back. She was only pleased that she had wised up when she did.

Jenna gave her Little Mermaid shower curtain a loving pat as she passed it and
left the bright room of light. She calmed a little at the familiar sound of the tub filling, folding towels as she waited for the bubbles to rise.

She watched herself in the mirror as it steamed, her cheeks rosy and her eyes wide. The heat rose upwards, engulfing the room in a wispy weightless blanket
.

Then
, for reasons unknown to her, she turned off the light. She wrapped her hand around the smooth cupboard doorknob and tugged, searching through the fuzziness for matches as her eyes adjusted to the blacked-out room. Her blinds were heavy to a fault, thick enough to make her feel safe bathing in a room that faced out into a communal garden. The match box was rough against the palm of her hand as she grabbed onto it, the match harsher against her fingertips as she clung to it in the dark, lighting it with a quick flick and using it to sight her way over to the tall pillar candles that lay at the head and the foot of her large bath. She lit all four, bathing the lavender scented bubbles and the faultlessly white tub in a warm golden glow. She undressed deliberately, conscious of her every movement in the presence of the open flames, and sank into the almost scalding water.

She sat down carefully, the water almost as hot as she could bare, and reclined her neck against the cool edge of the tub.
She straightened herself out, feeling her breaths become heavier as the heat roared through her, weighing her down. She felt light as a feather but unable to move, held down by a pressure that she wanted to obey. She sank down lower, propping her head against the side of the tub as she submerged her shoulders and felt the liquid lapping over the bubbles against her neck. Covered completely, her hands began to move, trailing over her legs and the stomach made satiny smooth by the bath’s oils. She smoothed over her thighs and under, trailing upwards over her rounded bottom to massage the small of her back and slip back over her hips. With a sigh she slid her finger firmly upwards to rub over her pert breasts, along her collar bones and over her neck with a sigh.

Forcing herself
lazily into a half-sitting position, she reached for a bar of soap. Ignoring the sponges and flannels piled beside her, she lathered up her hands and soaped her already suds covered upper half, thoroughly coating herself in the sweet smelling moisture that clung to her perspiring form. Slipping back under the foamy cover, she lifted one long, thin leg. Her thighs too thin to really be considered attractive, Jenna was only happy with their shape and a smoothness that she maintained obsessively with body butter and other such items. She didn’t lather her hands again, instead dipping them into the heated pool around her and scooping water up to rinse the bubbles away. She drew circles over herself, sighing as she reached the juncture between her leg and her cunt. Then she lowered her leg and raised the other.

She took her time repeating the process, her hand snaking down more often than necessary, as if it bore a mind of its own. A mind that declared that the hand was not her own, and she was not alon
e as she felt the touch of a hand along her naked body. A hand that decided it was male, large and calloused, and belonged to someone whose name she did not even know.

He was standing above her,
his face blank as he watched her passively. Her eyes were held to his by a kind of attraction that made her scared to blink lest she break it.

Her hand reached her breasts once more, and it was his fingers that tugged roughly, sneering at her as the sharp pinch went straight to her pussy.
It was he that lowered his eyes hungrily as if he knew precisely what the movement had done to her. It was he that smirked as he tugged the other, both simultaneously, and knew that she was clenching down on nothing, her thighs tense as her body begged for his cock inside her.

It was he that dipped his hand beneath the water, searching and finding her aching clit. It was he who stared avidly at the bubble
layer that covered her, making no move to sweep them away. He appeared to see through them as he roughly toyed with her, sliding one long finger inside of her. It was his demands that forced her to relax her body when she felt it begin to rise. It was him that wound her higher even as he demanded her to not reach the climax that she sought. It was he that made her release harshly with three fingers buried inside her, her hips jerking and the water splashing up against and out of the tub. It was his breath, not the water that put one of the candles out.

And it was still he that plagued her as she pulled her tired, overheated body from the tub, dried he
rself and lay down on her bed, still wrapped in her fluffy towel.

Jenna felt fuzzy, the large splay of light from the window determining that it was in fact still daytime, and there was no reality in her artificial night.
Everything seemed brighter then, from the view of someone who had just left a dark room. Her body was languid and cool, fresh against the soft sheets. Suddenly Jenna jumped, the bed springs compressing and startled her into drawing her towel tighter and raising her body into a sitting position. A ginger ball of fur sat, yawning widely and licking his whiskers.

Jenna sighed, and rearranged herself to sit in a more dignified manner. “Hey, Furball.” She cooed softly, reaching out one hand to pet the large cat behind the ears. She sat a few moments, and then rose to dress.
Before she could think better of it, she grabbed her phone from the chair beside her bed a dialled, bouncing her knee up and down as she listened to the phone ring.

“Jenna!” Amelia sang. “You alright?”

“Yeah, um, there was a guy at your party last night.”

“There were lots of guys, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“He was tall, with dark hair. Uh… he was wearing a faded shirt and dark jeans? Quite thin.”

“Henry?” Amelia mused, rhetorically. “That sounds like Henry. He’s the friend I told you about; I haven’t seen him in a couple of years, and then all of a sudden he got back in touch. I didn’t even know that he lived around here now. But I’ve invited him to come whenever he wishes, and told him that I’ll inform him of any other events that I hear of. I’m not sure if he’ll go with it; he can be quite flighty, but he’ll probably come to ours. I can introduce you next time, yeah?”