Switch (A BDSM Romance Novel)

by Astrid Knowles

  “Yes.” Jenna snapped. “But it’ll provide a reference, should he want to get a job after that.”

  “A reference better than whatever shite would have been on the last one.” Jasmine continued. Despite her harsh, antagonising words, her voice was level and sweet sounding; it was as if she were complimenting someone on their curtains. Jenna battled with herself to keep her temper; if she shouted then everyone would hear. And Henry would have to know what Jasmine thought of him.

  The girl never could keep her opinion to herself.

  “Maybe then he’ll be able to pay his way, instead of you taking in strays.”

  Jenna breathed in deeply, mentally counting as she attempted to steady her breath. It was useless. She was a ticking time bomb where Henry was concerned. She couldn’t stop the uncontrollable tempest that rose inside of her demanding that she be taken along with it or drowned. She could feel her perfect calm being swept from her, and in waves her fury rose.

  “Get out.” She hissed, her nostrils flaring as the huge gasps or air escaped.

  “Well, it’s true!” Jasmine sang. “If you want to go by old fashioned values and all that,” Her lips twisted around the distasteful words, her opinion as clear as day. “Then isn’t the bloke supposed to be the breadwinner? Y’know, obedient housewife and all that.”

  “GET THE FUCK OUT NOW!” Jenna roared, immediately losing the control that Henry’s presence gave her.

  Forget the god-damned guests. Her bloody neighbours would have heard her too, and Jenna was animalistic as she stalked her prey. Jasmine didn’t bother moving, but Jenna didn’t bother bluffing. Roughly she grabbed onto the collar of Jasmine’s shirt and tugged, pulling the younger woman out of the kitchen. She escorted her out and slammed the door behind her, finding her flat afterwards to be coated in the heaviness of absolute silence.

  She could even hear the clock ticking.

  Leant against the door, Jenna’s hand rose up to her temples, rubbing as if she could remove the memory of Jasmine’s words. She made her way into the living room just as Henry passed her, offering a soft smile as he went off to the kitchen.

  She was met with wide eyes and polite conversation that blatantly avoided the elephant in the room.

  In a lull where she lingered in the corner beside Viola she let loose the question. “How much did you guys hear?”

  “Everything. And by that I mean everything.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes.” Viola’s wide eyes peered at her in concern. “And I think that Henry did, too. You might want to talk to him about it. Do you think that we should leave soon?”

  “I-uh.” Jenna pondered a moment, sighing in defeat. “If you wouldn’t mind. Not that we want you to go, and you are all welcome round here whenever, it’s just not the right time.”

  “All right.” And so shortly after, Viola left. She dragged Aaron with her, and the others swiftly followed, offering sympathetic glances and hugs along with their heartfelt best wishes.

  When the place was empty, Jenna turned to the man beside her, all at once at home with her and out of place. His eyes were distant and his body unresponsive as she placed a gentle hand on his arm.

  “I’m so, so sorry about her.” She whispered. “She was so out of line.”

  “She wasn’t.” Henry’s voice rumbled. “Everything that she said then was true, and I am only thankful that she didn’t attack you like she did last time.”

  “But she did. She was so horrid.”

  “She was truthful, Jenna. And that went a lot better than we had been hoping for.”

  “What had we been hoping for?” She hissed tearfully. “All’s fine so long as no one gets killed?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you think that I was out of line?” She asked, her voice both pleading and demanding. He looked at her piercingly, his gaze shrewdly sizing her up.

  “Yes, Jenna. You may have been out of line.”

  “Am I not allowed to defend you?”

  “I don’t need defending.”

  “But I want to.”

  “And I don’t understand why.”

  The confusion hit her quickly, filling her with a deep sorrow at having displeased her dominant, the Master that she wanted for her own. The heaviness grew in her, holding her down and filling her with displeasure at her own actions.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” She whispered. “What should my punishment be?”

  Something foreign, almost fearful, flickered over his features as he gravely considered her.

  “You do not need to be punished. You have not played against the rules.”

  “I have displeased you; that’s enough.”

  “You are inviting abuse.”

  Ice trickled through her as she felt her knees begin to weaken; preparing to fall to the floor and beg. “It would make me feel better.”

  “You want me to hurt you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then you know how to ask me.”

  Silently, Jenna stripped, revelling in the momentary calm that the movements gave her. Gracefully she shed her clothing, determined not to do anything remotely imperfect. She smoothly lowered herself to kneel before him, her legs spread and her head bowed.

  “Please, if it would please you sir, I would like to be punished. I have gone against your wishes, and I would like you to help me correct my mistakes. I need you to put me back in the right place.”

  “Jenna, you had made no mistakes before demanding that I punish you for a matter that has never come under negotiation, and is domestic. Your punishment now is for your disregard of the rules and their importance. You may think over how you have displeased me, and when we are finished I would like a succinct explanation of what you have done.”

  She nodded sadly, and he jerked his head towards the door. “Now go get your gift. It is time for us to use it.”

  Surely that would be too soft, would it not? She wondered agonisingly as she went to fetch it, carrying it back to the lounge and sinking to her knees to offer it to him. He took the box from her and removed first the lead, bending a little to fasten it around her creamy throat.

  She couldn’t even take delight in the action that was the closest she had come to wearing his collar.

  Only a small, miniscule part of her lit up at the feel and smell of him fastening the leather about her neck. That insignificant part of her sat up and paid attention, keeping all of the details alive for later examination at a time less morose. The larger part of her still felt small and unwanted.

  He yanked on the lead and Jenna stood, moving to the centre of the room where he tugged her into position, still holding the leather tightly as he kneeled behind her. The first hit fell, and it was as if he turned out the lights.

  Chapter Eleven

  Christmas itself was a quiet affair, a small celebration of the holiday between the couple. They simply stayed together more than anything else, enjoying the comfort that the others’ presence brought them. They made no production of it, carrying on as usual, simply thankful for the quiet time that it gave them. They spoke little, indulging more in small touches and thoughtful motions. They each spent their days anticipating the others’ needs, and filling themselves with bittersweet torrents of bliss.

  On Christmas Eve they lay together, reading quietly until the clock struck midnight, watched by the Rudolf-wrapped presents that lay beneath the tree. Others, too, were there, but not in the forefront of either’s mind. In tandem they waited for the time to tick so that they could see how they had impressed their lover. Synchronised steps walked them over to the tree, and one hand gave while the other took. They sat back down on the sofa, acting as if they weren’t as anticipatory as small children, desperate to see what gift the reactions would bring.

  They both sat, watching each other as they waited for the gifts to be opened.

  Finally Jenna laughed, her voice seeming loud and clear and happy in the silent lit room. “Open yours first.” She said.

  He arche
d a brow. “I want you to open yours first.”

  “I already opened one from you.”

  “That wasn’t for Christmas.”

  “Oh. Well you may give me a gift now, then.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” Jenna grinned triumphantly. “Open the present!”

  “Who said you got to pick?”

  “Me.”

  Smiling adoringly, he did so, tearing through the paper to find what lay beneath.

  A long, rectangular box, it was unadorned and gave Henry no clue as to its contents. He carefully placed the lid beside him and ferreted through the mountains of tissue paper to find the cool, heavy set of items below. The light glinted off of the elegant, ornate weapons and Henry looked at the beautiful gift in astonishment before lifting his head, open-mouthed.

  “Are these?” He whispered, his voice hoarse.

  Jenna nodded, filled with happiness and pride at his reaction. The idea didn’t seem anywhere close to horrific now. It had long been a line of hers; one that anyone who pushed her to cross would not be worth seeing. She’d grown accustomed to the idea of it long ago, but she had simply no interest in such blatant sadism.

  Well, until recently.

  He carved her already, rearranged her, moulded her pliable form.

  “You had a red limit.” He said sternly, but really his voice was weak and his eyes were glinting.

  “I trust you completely, sir.” She replied firmly, and Henry’s breath caught audibly. His eyes travelled back down, caressing over the sharp blades before he placed them reverently beside him and pulled her close.

  “Thank you.” He murmured, his voice full of the warmth that had been missing since Jasmine’s visit. “You are truly special, pet.” His warm breath fanned over her and Jenna sighed happily, melting into his embrace with the knowledge that she had done something right, something appreciated, that Henry accepted her offering with warmth and joy.

  And when he ran the blades over her she felt light as a feather, floating happily into that place where pain and pleasure walked hand in hand, fully clear and conscious and she looked out to the darkness that lay outside of their artificial day. All too soon it was gone, her vision dimming and her breaths evening as she found somewhere darker which centred around the golden light of her Master’s voice as he spoke to her.

  Her face was pale when she came back down, fuzzily awaking to find herself wrapped securely in his arms as he carried her into the bathroom. She saw the shallow lines beaded with blood in her long mirror, and when he told her that she was beautiful, she believed him. How could she not? Everything that he said to her was truth, was that much not already clear? He had brought her to somewhere new and frightening and unexplored; and then brought her back safely to tell the tale. Her fear had aided her, had heightened her and given her a rush of adrenaline that alone she would be too frightened to explore.

  Amazing really, how something so frightening could be so fearfully arousing.

  She behaved perfectly as he bathed her, still the beautiful object of his creation with the stunning lines of artistry that he had drawn on her. She wasn’t needy or grovelling; no, she was above such things. She was serene and pliant, a creature of another place entirely. She had been removed from the ordinary, and now only Henry’s submissive remained; an entity that served only to please him, having so other purpose aside.

  And so it was confusing, in the weeks that followed, that her God-like dominant chose to distance himself. The holidays passed too quickly, fleetingly in their pleasure-filled haze, and Jenna found herself brought back into reality far too quickly as she went about her ordinary day, doing her ordinary things and behaving as if she wasn’t keeping the most stunning of secrets that could enlighten and enrich even the simplest of minds, if only they would let it. No, she had to carry on regardless, and every day she would come home to a man slightly duller than the last, and every day she would be lowered from her serene heights a little more than the day before it.

  She bought him a suit, determined that if he wanted to get a job then he should get one; regardless of how little concerned she was for another income. He may stop brooding, she thought, and return to being the enticing manipulator of days passed.

  It didn’t happen. If anything, he applied for even more jobs, and brooded even more when he didn’t get them, her gesture going almost unnoticed. And every night before they would sleep he would write in the curious brown book that he kept on the bedside table, and unspoken agreement between them that the book was never to be read.

  It lay there, long after Henry had drifted off to sleep, taunting her with all of the thoughts and secrets that it held. Surely a little peak wouldn’t hurt?

  Still, she rolled over and ignored it, her sensibilities battling.

  As the world began to prepare for spring, the sun grew warmer and Henry grew colder, leaving her wise, loving Master behind. He distanced himself until Jenna felt that no journey had been undertaken together since his joining her. Her respect for his privacy and her trust in him remained, but her longing grew and she felt that she, too, was distanced from the man who had grown so important to her. It was as if he had been replaced, and the reading of his diary would bring him back to her. She needed instruction, and if he wouldn’t knowingly provide it for her, then he would have to unknowingly. Her essay writing was slowing, even as she spent more time sat obsessively in front of it, trying to force her feelings and ideas into words that would create the same effect in her lover.

  She didn’t notice the creak of the floorboards as she closed the book.

  She didn’t notice the few items that moved out of their respective rooms.

  She didn’t notice anything until she returned home one day with her essay complete, only to find that Henry was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was as if he had vanished off the face of the planet. Everything was as it had been before he came along; there was no indication that he had ever been, only the gifts that he had given her, put away tidily in the bedroom that had been theirs for as long as they had been together. Her clothing had seemingly expanded, spread along the rail to cover the space in the wardrobe that had once held the old, faded fabric that smelled refreshingly of masculinity. The bathroom held no difference.

  The only thing that Jenna noticed was that her bedside table was bare; it seemed naked without the covering of Henry’s book. It seemed almost too clean after so long of not seeing it. The absence of him in her kitchen was hard-felt, but also refreshingly routine. No explosions, no discussions, compromises or arguments, it was as if he had been a figment of her imagination. A dream, but one that she desperately wanted to get back.

  Immediately, with nowhere else to turn, she phoned Amelia, holding the mobile tightly against her ear as she left her mocking home, running away and searching, everyone around her holding her sharp eye as she looked for something in them that was Henry. It was beginning to rain, a fresh, cool breeze spreading the moisture over her bare face and neck. It ran down her wrists, chilling her to the bone as she waited on baited breath for Amelia to pick up, spinning almost in her haste to see all around while moving as quickly as humanly possible.

  She didn’t even know how long Henry had been gone, or where he would go to.

  “Come on, come on, come oooonnnn…” Jenna let out a long, pitiful moan, the urge to break down sobbing hidden behind dry eyes. “Amelia,” She whimpered hysterically. “Have you heard from Henry? He left and I don’t know why or where he’s gone but he’s taken all of his stuff and it’s probably my fault and I don’t know where to find him. Can you let me know if you see him? Has he called you at all?”

  “If he has left then it is for his own reasons, and you should not seek him out too avidly.” Amelia counselled her calmly, her voice slow, quiet and authoritative. “He knows where to find you when he is ready to talk.”

  “But-“

  “But what?” Amelia asked. “Do you think that it would do any good for you
to start a search? Do you think that he would appreciate it?”

  She wanted to say yes, but the calm, reasonable and trusted voice forced her to think things through further.

  Still, she wanted to say yes. Only she knew that Amelia didn’t.

  “No,” She replied, her voice resigned. “He can look after himself, and if he wants to talk to me then he knows where I am.” She parroted he words, her voice flat and her thoughts dull. She still didn’t believe the words that she said and heard.

  She would continue searching, but now she knew that she would do so alone; Amelia would not help her. In her separation from Henry, she was separated from the others too, those that were too loyal to him to betray him, and those who would accept any excuse not to pull out a finger and help her.

  In fact, she couldn’t think of anyone who she could ask for assistance. Anyone from Amelia’s was just that. Amelia’s, and if she demanded that Jenna be kept in the dark then she would.

  Her steps led her without her dictating them, walking her meditatively along familiar roads and past even more familiar buildings until she stood on that one, important road that had led her to Aaron, to Viola and finally to Henry, her absent and longed for lover. Without thinking she stood, staring at Aaron’s café, the place where Henry had been known to stand, begging, and where he had gone to gain friendship and warmth, a warmth that she herself now felt shut out from. There was nothing to do; the lights were off. The heavy shutters had been closed over the large windows, only the small view through the window bringing her heart to a stinging ache and keeping her away. They stood together, the two sweet, deserving, loving people who had offered her their help. How could she ask for it now, seeing them so happy? They were holding each other, clinging like Jenna wished she had to Henry. As if they would never let each other go, their embrace overwhelming while their lips barely touched, their tongues licking briefly and shyly while their eyes remained open, fully satisfied with the partner before them. Never, in all of her time at Amelia’s and others, had she felt herself to be so much of a voyeur. The sex that she witnessed, meaningless of not, had been orchestrated, displayed for all to see. This was secret, the door a small window into someone else’s love. It was gentle and soft in a way that Jenna had never felt herself to deserve, and for two friends that she couldn’t wish it on more.