Switch (A BDSM Romance Novel)

by Astrid Knowles

  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 alone 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 herself 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?”

  “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, that was kind of all I was calling about. Everything back in order?”

  “Yes, and I’ve just had a massive delivery dropped off. It was supposed to be at the store on Monday, but for some reason that I tuned out due to its appalling unprofessionalism, they’ve brought it round to mine today.” She sighed, and the phone crackled against Jenna’s ear. “Well, at least I can start now, and I’ll be ahead on Monday.”

  Jenna laughed. “You should get Dom to help.”

  “He’ll develop a sudden stomach bug, I’m sure. That or start playing with the stock.”

  “Well, I’ll see you Monday. Enjoy your weekend.”

  “You too.”

  Well, that was useful. Jenna mooched down the stairs and slunk into her living room, curling up on the sofa and pulling the half empty bowl of Skittles towards her. The Doritos were still there from the day before, and a hesitant sniff encouraged her that they were edible.

  And so, of course, she polished off both with a healthy dose of rather rubbish television and a couple of half-hearted glances over the bookcase behind her. Wanting nothing more than to settle down to reread The Story of O, free of harassment by her own thoughts, Jenna rose to her feet once more and went out for healthier sustenance. She didn’t notice the beggar whose gaze followed her form, lit by the sunlight that broke through the gathering storm clouds as he wrote avidly, his neat scrawl liberally coating blue the pages of a brown leather bound book.

  Chapter Four

  He was there before her the next week. He was already hovering by the drinks, and chatting with Dom when Amelia led her in, and he held a large length of rope over one arm.

  “Henry’s here early to help set up for Sarah and Arthur’s demonstration.” Amelia explained. “Henry, this is Jenna.”

  He nodded gracefully, dressed in similar clothes to the week before. The jeans and shirt appeared the same, but a black leather jacket accented his broad shoulders. “Jenna, hi. I’m Henry.”

  He held out his hand to her and she took it, every bit as rough and masculine as she had imagined. He had a firm grip, a grip that she could all too easily picture elsewhere. His nails were clean and cut short, and would do her no harm if those hands held her in an iron grip. “Nice to meet you.” She murmured. “Amelia says that you are an old f
riend of hers. Are you new to the area?”

  He cleared his throat and released her hand. She immediately felt the loss of it and curled her hand into a fist, still feeling the texture of his palm inside it. “Something like that.”

  His voice was quiet, but not meek. It was husky, and a little hoarse. It also held a certainty and finality that made Jenna’s throat dry.

  “Amelia,” He turned to the short woman. “You want this set up downstairs, yes?”

  “Yes, I’ll just come down and show you.”

  It was an elaborate piece of rope work, that was certain, and Sarah appeared elegant as a ballet dancer as she hung from it a couple of hours later. The ropes already having been prepared, it was apparent to those gathered that the rope work itself was not the demonstration. A wide collection of instruments lay in a large black bag seated beneath a chair on which a flogger and a belt sat. Suspended from the ceiling, Sarah hung, a padded bench that had been lowered to her height placed on the floor to the right of her. If she were to drop less than a meter, and the bench moved directly below her, she would be laid upon it.

  Four ropes rose from her, suspending her. She was a balanced pendulum between them, lit almost ethereally. The ropes were hoisted with the spotlight in the centre, the blinding whiteness making her skin a stark white against her dark hair. She was tied diagonally, the pressure lifted by the extra support on her upper half. The ropes were cleanly separated, and the knots like that of a drawstring purse; if pulled right they would loosen and allow her to rotate. She was hung too high at current for any practical use, instead being used as some kind of bizarre beacon for the show ahead. The ropes were threaded carefully together through a large pulley that Craig stood beside, Daniel dutifully knelt at his feet. Henry, too, stood beside them. He leant towards the other man, and said something that Jenna could not make out before moving, walking around the outside of the circle that Jenna had tentatively joined. She watched him until he left the corner of her eye, then turned her attention back to the man of many implements.

  Several multi-coloured candles were removed from the large bag, and placed into silver holders on a low table that he motioned to be drawn forwards. It was placed behind the hanging statue, a meter or so back from her feet. A strip of black cloth over her eyes, she had no clue of the items surrounding her, or how close the circle had been reigned in, allowing those stood behind the table barrier to see her bare cunt, displayed for viewing by the ropes that stopped her legs from closing.

  Lights flicked on again behind her, and Arthur stood still, watching imperiously as the circle tightened, people pressed up against each other to form a kind of human wall around the couple. Amelia drew Jenna tighter to her, nodding to the tall woman who stood on the submissive’s other side before withdrawing to tug Dom into a seated position in front of her. He settled happily, leaning down to nip at her toes and prompting her to tug on his lead, forcing him into a more postured position. Jenna arms curled around herself as she remained standing.

  As the room began to quiet, the feel of fabric rustling against her back almost had the blonde woman turning, until she heard a freshly familiar voice, far too close to her ear.

  “Amelia,” He murmured, and the redhead turned, conversing quietly with the tall dominant. A couple of moments later, she turned to Jenna.

  “Henry is staying down here for the duration of the demonstrations,” She murmured. “And he is happy to be responsible for you this evening.”

  It was a statement, but one that awaited a response, and Jenna nodded without turning.

  “That sounds acceptable,” She whispered, but her insides were juggling.

  He pressed closer to her, one hand against her waist connecting her to him as a hushed murmur spread and then faded. The candles were quickly lit, a match used for the first candle, then the first candle used for the others. They flickered happily on their polished wooden table and already Jenna could see the red wax was beginning to drip, drip, drip down the short length of candle. She watched, transfixed, as the hot liquid trailed. Something else trailed, too.

  Jenna inhaled sharply as heated hands caressed up and down her sides, lingering over her hips. A woosh of sound had her jumping, startling like a small animal to stare wide eyed at Arthur. He held a soft flogger in his palm, swinging it gently to and fro as he slowly paced beneath his swinging subject. He gave a brisk nod and stood aside, watching with a careful eye as his submissive was slowly lowered. She remained above him, a short distance above his head, and when he returned to his place directly below her hanging breasts, Jenna shuddered.

  “Would her cunt be level with his mouth do you think?” A warm honeyed tone licked at the shell of the captivated woman’s ear. “Were he to move to her dripping pussy and lick it? Look at her,” He demanded. “Look how wet she is, knowing that she can be seen, touched if her Master permits it?”

  Jenna whimpered, and leaned back against caressing hands as the woman moaned, the soft strands striking her creamy breasts hard. The warm hands, both of them, trailed their lowest yet as the woman’s cry echoed chillingly around the room, the ropes straining as she rocked her hips. As Arthur took hold of the flailing sub, holding her in place and giving her several short strikes in reprimand, Henry grabbed her by her thighs, tugging her back against his slightly bent legs. He was lowered, all the better to lean her against his crotch and whisper dirty thoughts into her ear. His hands snaked up beneath her tight skirt to play higher, tugging the material with it. Feeling bare, Jenna fidgeted, unconsciously rubbing her barely covered arse against him tauntingly.

  “Don’t look away.” The sensual voice commanded, and Jenna was overcome with the urge to look down at herself, and at Henry’s ministrations. His fingers teased, but went no higher, tracing over the metal clips of her garter belt. “Watch them. You wish you were up there, don’t you?”

  She whimpered, the words falling straight to her core and winding at the thought. Tied up with her bare pussy on display. Wet and blindfolded as the torturous instrument worshipped her nipples, coaxing them into painfully tight peaks and strumming them, plucking them and sending the feeling directly to her bared cunt.

  She did want to be up there. And it wasn’t Arthur that she wanted below her.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was dry and a hand slipped away from her skin to clamp over her mouth, his long index finger sliding between her parted lips. “There’s no need to speak, precious.”

  She traced her tongue alone the offending appendage and it left her, stroking her jaw gently before seating itself firmly on her Basque accented waist. It was laced tight as could be, leaving her with a strung up feeling. She felt restrained within herself, his hand massaging gently over the constricting material as her behind massaged over a constricted-something-else.

  She tipped her head back against the crook of his neck, her eyes carefully focused on the display in front of her as the beautiful elven-looking woman was lowered once more. Her splayed vagina would be level with his cock now, Jenna couldn’t help but notice, and the thought of the attractive couple fucking sent a pulse straight to her clit. She suppressed a moan, her thighs rubbing together in a movement that she could not suppress and earned her a sharp slap on the thigh from her companion. As well as a smirk from the woman beside her, caught in the corner of Jenna’s eye as she fought to keep her eyes on Sarah.

  As if he could sense his audience’s need, the broad man moved to stand between his slim partner’s legs. She let out a guttural grunt as he probed her, and more than one observer joined it, clearing throats, shifting stances that had become uncomfortable, and toying with their partners. One man appeared dangerously close to performing fellatio, his open mouthed kisses coming overbearingly close to his partner’s crotch. He sat opposite Jenna in the circle, allowing her to see him even as she watched the other two. Arthur had Sarah moaning now, openly begging for his cock as he rubbed the clothed member against her. When he pulled away, the room could see the wetness that ha
d pooled over him.

  Gracefully, appearing entirely unaffected by his previous ministrations, Arthur turned and lifted the first candle. This first one was colourless, a white trail that would look like icing on Sarah’s fair skin. He held the pliable heat carefully as he leant forwards, murmuring something into the slender woman’s ear. Her fruitless shifting stopped and she stilled entirely, only a close look revealing to Jenna that she was still breathing. Slow, deep breaths that only moved her chest.

  And then the wax began to drip.

  In through her nose, out through her mouth, the sub stayed statue still while her Master allowed the hot wax to roll thickly down the candle and onto the skin below. He held the candle close, controlling the molten liquid’s movements to create a drizzle that drove from her right shoulder across her back to below her left breast. He removed the implement a moment to admire his work and then continued, the hot wax trailing from where it had left off to the right side of her waist. There he stopped, replaced the candle on the table and lifted another.

  It was a slow, careful process that was controlled in design. He held the candles closer and closer to her with each new colour until her breaths were loud enough to be heard by Jenna, whose own breath seemed caught, trapped in the bright flames that both calmed and quickened.

  Jenna had no idea of how much time passed, but she forgot her own need in her intense fascination with the practice. She had seen waxing before, ridiculous splashes of colour that served only to splatter and scorch the flesh that it landed on. Over quickly, those demonstrations had done very little to spark her interest. She’d only ever thought of it fleetingly, in a perhaps-in-fantasy sort of way. Those men had possessed none of the artistry that Arthur used to decorate his pet.

  All too soon he was finished, and he stepped away from the enchanting entity, beckoning closer the awed observers.

  “Would you like to have a closer look? Hmm?” Henry’s ran his thumb along her jaw as he awaited her response and Jenna nodded, her eyes wide. She stumbled forwards as if in a trance, hyper aware of the hands that held her. He guided her towards Arthur, who stood before Sarah like a kind of guardian. No one was getting closer without his permission.