Jennifer's Surrender (12 page)

 
“So, Bill told you I had been a bitch all
week?” he looked at me with an eyebrow raised and I continued, “I didn’t
realize he shared that kind of thing.”

 
“We were talking about work and he knows
that you went out with me… I think he cares for you and noticed that you were
acting differently all week than normal, so I think he might have thought it
had something to do with me. Plus, I just happened to talk with him right after
your little outburst.”

I looked down,
embarrassed and said, “I’m sorry, Master.” I thought I saw a slight smile on
his face when I said it, but otherwise, there wasn’t any recognition that I had
just used that term. Later, I would understand how much meaning there can be in
just one word. I had no idea just how much control one cedes with language
alone.

 
“I know you are, and so does Bill. But if
I am your Master, then you are a reflection of me.”

 
“I understand. It won’t happen again,
Sir.” I felt so guilty. It wasn’t just me I was making an ass of, I had made
him look bad.

 
“I know it won’t, little bird.” He said
calmly. “It’s part of learning control and true submission, which we’re going
to work on.” I nodded, not knowing at all what that meant. “Speaking of
control, did you touch yourself at all during the week?”

I flushed.
Damn it. I swallowed, “Not intentionally. And I didn’t come.” He looked at me
skeptically. “I swear! Sir. I was lying in bed Monday morning, reliving what
had happened over the weekend and as I was thinking about all the things we
did, I unconsciously started playing with myself, but I swear, the minute I
realized I was doing it, I stopped. Honest!” A mischievous smile crept onto his
face.

 
“Well, that does sound like an honest
mistake.” He said and I exhaled, relieved. “Were you planning on telling me?”
God, I was never going to win with him.

I looked down
and shook my head, “No, Sir, I wasn’t.” I said meekly. I couldn’t believe that
at 36 years old, this man could make me feel like a child.

 
“I see.”
 
He said, and I waited for more. I started
cleaning the lettuce, expecting the other shoe to drop, whatever it might have
been. But he didn’t bring it up again. In the back of my mind I knew it
couldn’t be that simple, but of course I had no idea what to expect. Would not
telling him be reason for the real punishment that he had warned me about?

Before Master,
I never knew the power that the mind had over the body. Simple emotions like
fear and anticipation can be as debilitating as a physical limitation or
punishment. I can’t say whether it’s intentional, but I now look forward to
punishment because at least it’s something tangible and finite. It’s not always
cause and effect or action and reaction, as in, I can’t always point to a
reason Master punishes me. Sometimes I think he just likes it. And maybe that’s
why I’ve come to like it too, because I know it brings him pleasure. But my
body responds to it. It sometimes aches for it. Perhaps him treating me like a
dog wasn’t that far off base, being that my reactions have become almost
Pavlovian. As I search for why I’ve become the way I have, I’m not finding much
in the way of answers. Or maybe I am, and I just don’t like what they’re saying
about me.

Saturday, he
told me he had work to do, and I had the day to myself. I was disappointed that
he wasn’t planning my day, telling me what we were doing. It almost felt like
he didn’t care enough to take care of me. I know that sounds pathetic, and
never before did I expect anyone to plan my days. In all the time I was with
Jim, or any boyfriend in the past, I never would have expected him to map out a
weekend. But I did with Sir, and even this early on I realized how nice it was
to have someone take complete control. Or, at least I didn’t realize what it
meant yet to give it all up completely.

I took
advantage of my time and went for a long run on the beach. After the dog
scenario the night before, there wasn’t any more sex or play. I wasn’t sure if
that was punishment or what. But that too was disappointing. I really, really
wanted him, yet I felt it wasn’t my place to make an advance. It was obvious
that I bought into the notion that he controlled me. I don’t know what would
have happened if I had made a move, but somehow, I just knew that I shouldn’t.

I was
definitely out of sorts. After my run and a long shower I sat by the pool and
read a bit, but even that was unfulfilling. I checked email, surfed the web, and
finally decided to call my mom, which was a big mistake.

 
“Hi, Jenny, what’s wrong?” she answered.
God I hated when she called me that. I don’t know how many times I had told
her, but I guess she would have had to actually been listening to remember.

 
“Nothing’s wrong, mom, I just thought I’d
call and say hi.”

 
“Oh, ok. Listen, honey, we’re walking out
the door.” I heard her saying ‘It’s just Jenny’ to my Dad in the background.
Then she came back to the phone, “Say hi to Jim.”

 
“I told you mom, Jim and I broke up a
couple months ago.” I said with disgust.

 
“Oh, Jenny, you can’t expect me to
remember every little detail about your life. You’re so sensitive.” Every
little detail, as she put it, was me breaking up with a boyfriend of three
years, someone who, at one point, I had considered marrying.

 
“Nevermind, mom. I’ll talk with you
later.”

 
“Ok, Jenny, bye.” And she hung up, not
even waiting for me to say goodbye, like those extra few seconds would have
just imposed on her more.

I realized
that my relationship with my parents had to influence what I was doing with
Sir. The contrast between how little they knew me, how little interest they
took in me, compared to Sir, was stark. Even though it had only been a couple
weeks, Sir could read even the subtlest of my emotions, unnervingly so. That
type of attention and interest was yet one more thing I had never before
experienced. And I lapped it up. My parents never took the time to get to know
me. They had no idea who I was, what my interests were. I think I was always
just a burden to them.

I was starting
to really get depressed wondering what the hell I was doing there in some
strange man’s house, by myself, no sex so far, because whatever the hell that
was the night before certainly didn’t count. And I assumed I couldn’t even play
with myself. I closed my eyes and leaned back onto the chaise trying to
appreciate the sun and serenity as the sun started to set when I heard,

 
“As much as I like seeing you naked in my
kitchen, seeing you out here, naked by my pool runs a very close second.” I
opened my eyes and held my hand up to shield my face as I looked up and felt,
simultaneously, my heart beat faster, my stomach drop, and my pussy clench as I
took in the man before me. Never before had I been with someone whose mere
presence was so commanding, so alluring. I couldn’t help but grin up at him.

 
“Anything I could do to make your
poolside viewing move up from second to first, Sir?”

He had moved
so he was standing directly in front of me, shading me from the sun, so I
dropped my hand and reached up with it and the other hand to clasp the back of
the chaise. It both lifted my breasts as well as gave the appearance of my
hands being restrained above my head. He smiled, completely aware of what I was
doing.

 
“Spread your legs.” He said, and I did.
“You are so beautiful, Jennifer. Every inch of you.” I could feel myself
getting wetter as he spoke. “Stay just like that. I’ll be right back.”

I tried to
hide my disappointment at being alone once again as he walked away. I stayed
exactly as he said and when he returned, he held a garment box.

 
“We’re going out tonight. I bought you
something to wear. Open it.” What he lacked in ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ he more
than made up for in charisma and sex appeal. I sat up and unwrapped the box.
Inside were a short black spaghetti strap dress, thigh high stockings and a
sheer black wrap. There was a second box that, upon opening, held black Louboutins.
I knew how much they must have cost and couldn’t believe he bought them for me.
Then I looked at the label on the dress and knew enough to know that a designer
dress like this cost even more than the shoes.

I looked up,
about to protest, but I knew that would be insulting and useless. So I
swallowed and said, “Thank you, Sir. It’s all beautiful.”

 
“You’re welcome, little bird. I’m looking
forward to seeing you in it.” Then I realized, I didn’t have a strapless bra to
wear with it. “What is it? Is something the wrong size?”

 
“No, no, I just, I don’t have the right,
um, undergarments to wear with this.” Silly that I was embarrassed to say the
word ‘bra’ with this man considering what we had done.

 
“You won’t be wearing anything but what’s
here, Jennifer.” He said in his ‘this is not open for discussion’ voice. I
swallowed, understanding what exactly that meant. No bra. No undies.

 
“Understood, Sir.”

 
“Good. Now, I have a few more things to
do, so I’ll be in my office. Please be ready to go in an hour.” He said and
then leaned down and planted a kiss on my forehead. It was such a simple,
tender gesture, but I drank it in like it was a declaration of love.

I took my time
in the shower, shaving everything, using the body scrub that was there,
luxuriating in the surroundings. Even the towels were fluffy and huge,
reinforcing the feeling of being pampered. I carefully applied my makeup, doing
my version of smokey eyes which wasn’t as severe as some women, but certainly
more than I was used to wearing. I added a touch of light pink tinted lip
gloss, and that was the extent of my makeup. I had never really gotten the hang
of makeup, so simple was always better with me. I left my hair loose and long.
 

The dress fit
like it was made for me. I was fortunate to still have firm breasts at my age,
and even I could admit that all my running and healthy eating paid off,
thankfully because the dress barely covered the tops of the thigh high
stockings and hugged every curve. At 5’9”, I was already tall, but with the
heels, I was easily pushing 6’. I had to admit that when I looked in the
mirror, I liked what I saw. And I hoped that Sir would too.

I wasn’t sure
where he was, so I walked down the main stairs and found him in the living room
with a cocktail. He wore black slacks, black shoes and a grey button down
shirt. He was so God damned handsome. And the smile on his face and in his eyes
seemed to convey that he did indeed like what he saw when I walked in.

 
“You are absolutely stunning, Jennifer.”
He said as he stood up, letting his eyes travel the length of me.

 
“Thank you, Sir. And thank you for all of
this.” I gestured towards my outfit.

 
“It’s my pleasure.” He held out his arm,
and I took it as we walked out.

I knew better
than to ask where we were going. It didn’t really matter. All that did was that
I was with him. All the feelings of loneliness from earlier in the day were now
in the distance as he held my hand the entire drive, stroking the back of it
with his thumb. He could have been taking me to McDonalds for all I cared. I
was just happy to be there with him.

We drove south
on PCH to a restaurant / club that I had just read about. It was owned by some
actor and it was the new in place. I was surprised he’d want to go there, but
when we walked in, the manager embraced him, kissing him on both cheeks and
speaking in rapid fire French. Sir answered and laughed, never once letting go
of my hand. We were led to a table that was both set back from the crowd, but
also had a view of the restaurant.

Our dinner was
perfect. The conversation flowed easily and for the first time, it felt like a
normal date. We discussed business, some local issues and just normal things
that people talk about. No mention of BDSM or the lifestyle or anything. I was
relaxed and carefree, though I never once called him by his name. While it felt
like a normal date, I still had the wherewithal to call him, ‘Sir.’

After the
dinner ended, the restaurant morphed into a club and Sir suggested that we move
to a more private area upstairs to have an after dinner drink and watch the
dancing. I had already shared a bottle of wine with him, so I was game for
pretty much anything.

The maitre’d
or manager from earlier led us up the stairs to a private room, though really,
it was a cluster of couches, a coffee table and a curtain enclosing it all. We
left the curtain open, and as the club started filling up, people were hanging
around. One young woman in what I guessed was her early 20s, had the gusto to
come in and ask,

 
“Would you both mind if I joined you?”

She was drop
dead gorgeous, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Oh, to be that
young again, I thought. As pretty as she was, she didn’t seem to have the
attitude that was part and parcel of most women in LA like her. I smiled and
looked at Sir and he gestured with his hand, “Please, we’re happy to share.”

As she sat
across from us and crossed her legs, it was hard not to look. I guessed she
must have been a model or aspiring actress. Her features, her skin, her body.
She was flawless.

 
“Thank you.” she said, and I heard a
twang.

 
“Do you mind if I ask where you’re from?”
I asked, trying to spark conversation. She blushed.