When they had first met, his clothes had smelt of him purely, himself and the clean, unscented washing powder from the Laundromat where he would take his clothes, if he had saved enough money during the week. If he had to not eat, then he would, to be presentable when he went to Amelia’s. He hadn’t felt comfortable when he was unclean and unshaven, because he was far too proud to allow his old student to see what had become of him.
He had counselled her so well on control, diligence and generally gaining knowledge of the situations that concerned her, and yet now he had found himself without anything while she ran her business and kept a very happy slave.
He hadn’t admitted it to her at all. Instead his old friend had found out through Jasmine, something else that was Jenna’s fault. Without her, he would still have his pretence.
When he had moved in with her, his laundry had been done with hers, and Jenna had delighted in the way that their clothing matched in scent, as if they were some kind of wild animals marking their territory.
This new smell was unfamiliar and unsettling, but still so much of Henry that she had to force herself to turn away from it and close the wardrobe door firmly.
She closed the bedroom door too, walking over to sit herself down on the bed before she began to strip. She did so as if Henry were there watching her, picturing his heated gaze on her as she removed the material and bared her flesh for his pleasure. She stroked along her sides and across her arms as she pulled off her blouse, her hands rubbing enticing circles over the soft skin of her stomach before she let out a small huff and rolled her eyes at her own stupidity.
Of course Henry wasn’t watching her. He wasn’t even there.
She managed to pull the rest of her clothing off without such a reoccurrence, and once completely nude, she fixed her gaze on the door, dressing as quickly as possible, just in case Henry should turn up at the least convenient time possible.
It would suit him down to the ground.
The crotchless panties were easy enough, as was the garter belt. It was the fishnet stockings that proved tricky, catching awkwardly on her toes as she attempted to pull the fiddly clothing on quickly. They were followed by shoes that were hard and unyielding, far too high in height and sure to give her blisters. She debated momentarily over the matching bustier before shaking her head and tossing it back into the bag, along with the clothing that she had removed, and then placed the bag under the bed and sat down in the single chair, several toys on her lap and on the bed as she waited.
And waited.
Her hands were clammy as they clutched the silk blindfold, fiddling nervously with the scrap as she shivered from the cold metal of the belt buckle against her thigh. Her bared breasts became more apparent to her every moment that she sat, hardening into peaks quickly as her own awareness of her body sent a thrum of excitement through her, aided by her nerves.
Her heart was pounding, so much in fact that she jumped when the door opened, barely composing herself before Henry’s eyes fell upon her, widening with shock. His mouth hung open and his body froze in a way that would be comical if she weren’t so uncertain.
“Henry.” She murmured hoarsely, her voice as steady and authoritative as she could make it. “Come on in.”
“Jenna?”
She nodded to the bed and offered a small smile, brief but there, “Sit.”
Henry swung the door shut behind her, walking over to her but pausing in front of her, staring silently. The surprise was evident, and Jenna felt a slight niggling feeling that maybe, just maybe, Amelia hadn’t warned him after all.
He wasn’t sitting down, though, and Jenna’s throat went dry. She licked her lips, wetting them a little before ordering him once more, her eyebrows raised in the gesture that she had copied from her redheaded friend. “Sit down.”
He did so without turning, refusing even to blink as he stared at her. “Did Amelia tell you I was here?” He asked.
“Quiet.”
She had only prepared as far as actions, and questions had no place yet in her carefully obsessed over order of events.
“I want to blindfold you.” She told him, lifting the material. “Will you let me?”
“Jenna-”
“Quiet. Just a yes or no will suffice.”
His mouth closed and Jenna stared at him, her confident expression hiding her fear from him. Was this what he went through, every time they played? She simply let go and showed him what he did to her, as she had wanted him to. He had only shown the calm, calculated man designed to allow her complete and utter freedom with him. She had been unguarded while unburdened by Henry’s own needs.
And he’d been so good at tossing them aside.
“I won’t ask you to do anything that I wouldn’t do myself.” She informed him, her voice softer than before. Her posture too, slumped a little, as afforded to her by her bared torso. She held his gaze and he nodded.
“Yes, Miss.” He replied surely. “You may blindfold me.”
Her stomach fluttered, but she continued as if his agreement had no effect on her. “Safewords?”
“Red and Yellow, Miss.”
“Good.”
Jenna willed her legs steady as she rose from the chair and stood before him, breathing through her mouth as she tied the material over Henry’s eyes slowly, her fingers fumbling slightly. Her steady breaths wavered somewhat as she waited for any indication that he had noticed, however he remained completely still.
His hands were folded in his lap, as if he were kneeling before her, and Jenna’s heart beats quickened.
She trailed her fingertips lightly over his cheeks and along his jaw, tenderly petting his neck before moving away.
“Turn around.” She ordered. “I want you bent over the bed.”
Silently Henry did so, situating himself rather awkwardly by touch alone. It wrenched at her, the sight of him like this, and her own role in it. She was confused and uncertain, driven onwards only by her own determination. She would not reach out for him, not yet. Instead she watched as her helpless lover clumsily slung himself into position and then, as he had done to her so many times before, she kicked at his feet to widen his stance.
Although he had gained weight in the time that he had spent off of the street, his body was still lean and lightly muscled. Jenna could see every shift of his form as he bent over the bed, the bizarre manipulations of his body without masses of fat to disguise it. He appeared unclothed completely, as if by watching him movements, the bones and muscles that made themselves known, she could see inside of him. He’d been stripped down in all ways; that much was apparent. He had lost his clothing, baring himself to her lustful gaze. He had then allowed her to blindfold him, rendering himself completely vulnerable to whatever it was that she decided to do to him. More than that, he was doing something that he didn’t want to.
As a submissive, Jenna laid her will down before him as a matter of choice; a choice that brought her pleasure and a sense of worth. By Henry doing so, he was denying himself completely of the control that he so desperately wanted and practiced with ease.
He did so as if it were nothing.
Jenna let out a small whimper, a choked but near-silent sob of confusion and fear. The belt felt unfamiliar in her small hands; doubled over it was an odd and unwelcome weight in her palm. It felt powerful and dangerous and wrong.
She ran her hand soothingly down his backside, gently cleansing the flesh of any tension before lifting the vicious implement, and cringing at its snarl and snap as it hit her lover’s precious skin. The area immediately reddened, but only the near silent whistle of breath through Henry’s teeth could be heard. Was it like it was for her; was he consumed by the blindfold’s ability to focus him and make him feel? Did he find himself waiting for the pain, the time ticking far more torturously than the blows as they fell?
Maybe he, like her, expected worse, and braced himself against it regardless, completely fulfilled with the promise that he could take it, and that it would please
her for him to do so. Maybe he bore it in the hope that it would turn her on.
This isn’t me! I’m not reliable, capable, infallible! I am flawed and tainted. I am as all others whom I deemed unworthy of my love, in light of the obedience and idolisation which comes with it. I am supposed to worship; for the sake of his perfection, his discipline and his kindness, I am to kneel at his feet.
She drew in a breath, and drew back the belt, once more striking his surprisingly fragile form, the deity which she would have given her life for reduced before her into the state of the unworthy, the slave who believes that their purpose lies in the serving of their Master. Over and over, the leather hit the man, drawing sharp hisses and occasional moans, from both the striking and the strength, creating a beautiful symphony; a lie that felt real in such a trance-like state.
It wasn’t a matter of power after a while, as she wielded the weapon. The state in which she usually put herself was out of reach, unattainable, however another such one was found in this. She had to be aware, that much she knew from the avid attention that Henry lavished upon her during scenes, however she felt herself slipping into something more. She almost forgot about Henry’s pain, and the way it must feel to him to have the material slapping into his bottom. No, instead she watched the tightening and loosening of his muscles as they became predictable to her, and lost herself in the absolute beauty of eliciting such natural, instinctive responses from the parted and dry lips of the man who willing placed himself in her power. She almost forgot why she shouldn’t be trusted, why she shouldn’t want to continue, and instead pushed herself into pleasing him. She listed and observed, and came to know each and every reaction that he had, dependant on where she hit him with the belt, and how much force she put behind it. She drove him to tears, open outpouring of salty tears as he remained still and empty of all hatred and anger. Only then did she place it aside and tenderly coax him to lift his head, kissing away the trail of release while he shifted his hips awkwardly, in search of release of another kind.
She murmured to him softly, petting his hair away from his sweaty face, kissed his hairline and told him eagerly of how good he had been, how amazing he was and the effect that he had on her.
The words caught in her throat at the thought that he always would, that all she had to do was think of him to behave in a more appropriate manner, to feel better about herself. Instead she coughed, clearing her throat, and reached for a small container that she had placed aside, spreading the cooling cream over his bruised flesh with the same fixation and care that she had taken in placing such marks of ownership on his body in the first place.
It was a shame that they wouldn’t last.
She lowered herself to her knees, the rough carpet scraping over her legs and forcing the stockings to push roughly against her, imprinting their pattern. She sighed softly, earning the same response from Henry as her cool breath fanned over his blistering arse, improving the work of the cream. Chastely, she pressed kisses to him, making sure not to aggravate the punished skin further. Light as a feather she kissed him better, her hands running over his lower back and legs as if calming an ill-tempered horse.
“You’re amazing.” She whispered. “You are my everything.”
Henry tensed his whole body locking and another hiss of pain leaving his lips as his buttocks clenched together, Jenna staring blankly at him before rising once more. She tottered a couple of steps before returning to him with a bottle of water in hand. She unscrewed it, and lifted his head, pressing it against his lips and tipping confidently. He swallowed eagerly, large gulps of the liquid tipping down his parched throat and down his chin, due both to Jenna’s inexperience in feeding another, and Henry’s eagerness for the refreshment.
“Thank you, Miss.” He growled softly, a small smile lifting his sweet face.
“You’re welcome sweetheart.” She replied, torn. “You definitely deserve it.”
She observed him a few moments more, her eyes welled up with tears that she refused to shed before she removed the sodden silk from his eyes, turning away to place in down on the bedside table. Before he could adjust to the sudden influx of light, Jenna sank to her knees once more.
As she had done so many a time before, she took him into her mouth to pleasure him, only this time she did so without the ego-inflating praise that usually ensued. Henry did not grab for her, or move in any way. He stayed perfectly still, submissive and silent, and still Jenna carried on.
She would know, after all, when she pleased him. He would groan, and jerk into her mouth. When she had pleasured him all that she could, his seed would invade her mouth lingering inside of her.
And that was all that she could do.
She took her time, and yet it was over far too quickly in a yelp, a hiss and the grip of his hands finally in her hair. She remained there afterwards, her head set in his lap, nuzzling lovingly as she listened to his ragged breathing slowly even out, drifting oddly somewhere between awake and asleep.
“Thank you.” She whispered, but Henry sat up fully once more, gently but insistently removing her from him.
“It is inadvisable to engage in activities with a Dom whom you are not in a relationship with.” He counselled. “Even though we are at a friend’s, we are not at a play party, and any play is a risk undertaken by each of us.
Maybe I will see you then.”
He spoke in a detached manner, without any emphasis in a deliberate manner, and Jenna felt another flood of uncertainty rush through her as she pushed herself to her feet and turned away.
“Maybe I will.” She whispered, but the promise that she knew would be broken forced the waterfall to cascade over her smooth cheeks, pooling on her jaw as she walked away and didn’t look back.
Henry stared perplexed after her, his tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes retaining the look of a shattered man.
Chapter Fourteen
Jenna ran blindly down the hall, choked up and lost through the pain that blacked out all light from her vision. There were only shapes, like a child with closed eyes raised up to the sun, only to find things shifting and changing to give small glimpses of light and shadow that could not fully be distinguished. It was like watching clouds as they moved and took on new forms before she could even fully explain the last. It was dizzying and sickening.
Beyond anything, it was terrifying.
Lack of sight had never bothered her, as she had only moved under the guidance of another. Now she moved alone, reaching her hands out before her in case of walls and other objectst that set themselves in her way. She felt along as if searching for the light switch in the dead of night, fumbling with the slightly irrational fear of a terrifying being making itself known at the least opportune of times. She felt as if she were going in circles; if she was, then how would she know?
She wouldn't.
She carried on moving regardless, hurtling recklessly until every converged around her, suffocating her.
She gasped as her throat tightened, squeezing from her the last precious tendrils of oxygen, drawing them out of her and leaving her almost unable to scream as she hit against something solid. Her cheek smacked against it, rising a sound more of an oomph than a shriek from her lips as she fell back away from it, only to be drawn dizzily back in.
The unknown being stroked her hair, murmuring soothing words but Jenna wasn't listening. She was frightened and fighting and devoid of thought she lashed out, clawing at the predatory beast.
"Don't touch me!" She screamed. "Leave me alone!"
The monster didn't listen, heaving her over its shoulder and turning to drag her away to its lair. It seated her on its lap as it sat on a perfectly made and oddly familiar bed, continuing on with the whispers that she ignored.
She settled after a time, stopping her fruitless bids for freedom; after all, what did it matter when she no longer had her Dom? She felt somewhat quietened by the low rumble regardless of distinguishing the words. Eventually she fell lulled into it, completely peaceful
in the arms of this unknown being, these arms that felt somewhat familiar. A short time later, another voice appeared, and the two creatures spoke, of her or to her she did not know.
Before long, she drifted into a disturbed sleep, full of pictures and flashes of the things that frightened her and of arms holding her and hands soothing her as sweet words were spoken. She came back to herself slowly, her skin clammy and a large sense of wrongness eradiating from somewhere deep inside of her. She could feel Henry, the saviour from her dream that kept her safe and asked her to wake, to come back to him, to ignore the voices that were permeating her dream unwanted. She felt a calm happiness, not the dizzying bouts that were so susceptible to change, but a consistent contentment. When she felt arms around her, and knew that she was awake, she allowed herself the small piece of pure joy and love, let it fill her and consume her in the most innocent of ways before accepting its lack of reality.
Her Henry smelt different. His arms felt different.
He wouldn't be speaking to a woman - Amelia - while he held her.
Well, he certainly wouldn't be calling her Mistress.
"Dom?" She asked foggily, already knowing the answer even before he opened his mouth to reply. It was painful to hear and Jenna immediately closed her mouth once more, the dry cottony feeling aiding her mind's apparent bid to make her feel as pathetic, childlike and unworthy as possible.
"Hey there, Petal." Dom smiled, a small genuine smile that was filled with sadness but thankfully not pity. "Good to see you back with us. You've been asleep a while."
But apparently not long enough. Anything was better than waking to this reality. The lack of her lover was a pain deeper and more fierce than anything that she had ever experienced at his hand.
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