Jennifer's Surrender (15 page)

 
“Ooooh, I would have loved to have seen
that!” she said, clapping and laughing. “Did it take her very long to come?”
she asked Sir.

 
“No, not long at all.” They both chuckled
and I just sat there. What was wrong with me? Why didn’t I tell them both to go
fuck themselves and get up and leave? As I was wondering this, Sir started stroking
my hair, as if he could tell that I needed comforting. I hated myself for
leaning into his hand, soaking in what little love I felt coming from this
simple gesture.

 
“Eat, little bird.” He said and fed me a
bite of pancake. Just hearing that term of endearment helped. I chewed slowly
and relaxed a bit.

 
“I’d be happy to make her a plate,
Stephen.” Sara offered.

 
“That’s a lovely offer, thank you, Sara.”
He said and she put a sampling of everything on a plate, and then placed it on
the floor in front of me.

 
“Go ahead, little bird. Eat. You’re going
to need your strength.” He said sweetly and I started to unclasp my hands. “No,
dear. No hands. Just your mouth. And make sure you clean your plate.” I stared
at him, then looked at the traitorous bitch in front of me who was chomping at
the bit to see what I would do. I knew the longer I waited, the longer the
suffering would continue, so I leaned forward and dipped my head down and
started eating. I took a bite of pancakes and choked them down. I had absolutely
no appetite, but I knew I would have to eat it all. I ate slowly, focused on my
plate. After watching me for a few minutes, they resumed their conversation,
making small talk about this and that. I wasn’t really listening. I was just
trying to get the food to go down my throat, concentrating on swallowing as if
my life depended on it.

When I had
finally finished, I sat back on my heels. I felt like throwing up.

 
“Shouldn’t she completely clean her
plate, Stephen? There’s a lot of syrup and crumbs left.” Sara asked in a faux
sweet voice.

 
“Yes, indeed. Jennifer, lick the plate
clean.”

Sara added
giggling, “Yes, imagine it’s my pussy. You licked it so well last night.”

Oh, I really
wanted to punch her right then and there, but I had already suffered this
morning’s indignities, I may as well just get this last bit over with. So, I
pitched forward again and licked the plate clean.

 
“So, Stephen, why is she going to need
her strength today? What do you have planned for her?” God, who was this woman?
Why was she such a cruel bitch this morning? Was it just that she had been
given the power by Sir? I was starting to understand the phrase ‘power
corrupts’.

 
“Excellent question, Sara. Clearly,
Jennifer needs to learn to submit better than what you’ve seen here this
morning. So far, she’s mostly experienced submission in a sexual sense.
Obviously, this morning has made it clear that true submission is much more
than that.” He paused, letting his words sink in.

 
“So today, I am going to punish her.” He
paused, again waiting for the impact to land on me. Then he asked, “would you
like to watch?” he asked like he was asking her if she’d like to watch a movie
with him.

 
“Oooh, yes, I would, thank you, Stephen!”

 
“Excellent. I think you’ll enjoy it. Just
give us a few minutes and then you can come down to the playroom.” He said to
Sara and then with a look to me, I stood up, keeping my hands behind my back,
and dutifully followed him.

I waited
patiently behind him as he unlocked the door. Once we were inside, he closed
the door, I guess to give us some privacy, though really, after what he just
put me through at breakfast, and what I had coming to me, I wasn’t sure why. I
couldn’t look at him, so I just stared at the floor. I felt so bad, depressed,
unloved, stupid for being there, unsure… the list went on.

 
“Jennifer, look at me.” He commanded and
I raised my eyes to his. “You are a natural submissive sexually, you know that.
But what I want in my submissive is more than that. If you are to be my sub,
you must surrender to everything I ask. I think you can do that, but I
understand it’s difficult for you.” All I could do was nod. I prayed he didn’t
ask me for a verbal answer because I was pretty sure I would just burst into
tears right there.

This man who
was speaking was so kind, so tender. If I didn’t know with my own eyes and ears
that it was the same man who just minutes ago had me licking a plate and
telling a virtual stranger of my humiliation, I wouldn’t believe it.

 
“All of the emotions you’re feeling right
now, all of them would be gone, and all you would feel is happiness by doing
what I want you to do and pleasing me in whatever I ask. But you have to give
in, Jennifer. If you don’t you’re going to torture yourself and be miserable
with me. I understand it’s asking someone whose not used to giving in so
completely, it’s asking a lot. So if you don’t think this is for you, then we
should end this, right now, before we go any further.”

There it was.
My out. I could just walk away. Which I already knew. But he wasn’t forcing me
to do any of this. I had chosen it. Yet, even after everything, I didn’t want
to. I wanted to give in, I wanted to give myself so completely to him that his
happiness would be my happiness. It sounded so simple, so easy. And we hadn’t
spent that much time together yet, I wasn’t ready to walk away. I wanted more
time with him.

 
“I don’t want it to end yet, Sir.” I said
meekly. “I want to try to accept what you’re offering.”

He smiled and
stroked my cheek, “Good, little bird, because I don’t want you to leave either.
There’s so much I want to teach you, and so much I want to share with you, but
you have to trust me, you have to surrender to me.” I nodded. “Do you trust me,
Jennifer?”

And I knew
that I did, because if I didn’t, I would have already walked out. “Yes, Sir, I
do trust you.” I wanted to ask him why he was so cruel to me, why he humiliated
me in front of that woman. But now wasn’t the time. I was already too weak
mentally and I wasn’t sure the answer would have mattered anyway.

He smiled,
pleased to hear that I trusted him, but then turned serious when he said, “This
is going to hurt, what we’re about to do down here. You’re going to be punished
for your attitude towards our guest and your insolence. I am especially
disappointed because I thought I had explained that your actions are a
reflection of me. I invited her to watch as both a reminder of your
transgression as well as a chance for you show me that you’ve changed in your
attitude towards her. In the future, I won’t give you so much explanation, but
because you’re so new to this, I want to help you understand when you’re doing
something that displeases me and why you’re being punished.”

 
“Thank you, Sir, I do appreciate it.” I
said honestly.

 
“You’re welcome. Now, there’s really only
one thing you need to do in here. Can you tell me what that is?”

 
“Surrender to you, Sir.”

 
“That is so lovely to hear coming from
your lips, little bird. Yes, that’s exactly right. You don’t need to think or
worry or feel badly. You just need to accept what I give you.”

 
“Yes, Sir. I accept.”

 
“Good.” He said and leaned down and
kissed me lightly on my lips. Then he walked to the door and opened it. Before
Sara could step in, as a sign of deference, I stepped back and knelt down, knees
wide, clasping my hands behind me and arching my back. I looked up at him and
he gave me a small smile, which warmed my insides knowing that with such a
small gesture, I had made him proud.

Such and odd
thing, giving up control, and giving trust so completely to someone. I’m not,
by nature, a terribly trusting person. I would never leave my door unlocked at
night or answer a fishy sounding email from a Nigerian who needed money wired,
promising me riches if I did. I’m not even the type to share personal
information with acquaintances, or people at work because I generally don’t
trust what they’ll do with something I consider private. So why did I, so
implicitly, trust Sir? Was it a genuine connection I felt? Yes. Could it have
been that he was so masterful at his manipulation of me, understanding just
what buttons to push? Probably.

After the
‘dog’ scene and the morning with Sara, those should have been red flags for just
how mean he could be. But he flipped the switch so quickly back to giving me
such intense pleasure and tremendous caring that I chose to push the bad times
out of my mind and only focus on the good. Of course, I had help. I had him
telling me that this was what I needed. I had him convincing me that what he
was doing was for my own good. That it was somehow making me better, and was
all part of the process, and that he knew better. I believed him because I
couldn’t at the time fathom that someone I could be so intimate with could also
be so cruel to me. I projected my values onto him. Because I could never
manipulate someone like that, and because I would never want to do to another
person what he did to me, I ignorantly chose to believe that he had my best
interests at heart.

By the looks
of it, Sara had never before been in a playroom. She walked around, touching
everything. I could tell that Sir was not pleased by how presumptuous she was,
but he had already committed to having her down here and he didn’t strike me as
someone who would go back on his word. He mostly ignored her, as he prepared
me, fastening cuffs to my wrists and ankles. Much like the previous time, he
connected leather straps to hooks in the ceiling, but this time, my arms were
wide apart. My feet were once again slightly up on tip toes as he spread my
legs wide and fastened the ankle cuffs to straps and eye hooks buried in the
floor. I realized later that the hooks were submerged so that no one would trip
on them. How considerate.

I was
effectively making an X with my arms and legs. I wondered why he didn’t put me
on the St. Andrews Cross, but I figured out later that he wanted unobstructed
access to all of my front and back.

He put on some
music, low Gregorian chanting, which was soothing.

His voice was
low and clear, “Jennifer, I want your eyes on me whenever I’m in your line of
sight, do you understand?”

 
“Yes, Sir.”

 
“Your focus during punishment is on your
Master. Since this is your first time, you understand you can use your safe
word, but I want to remind you, this is punishment. It’s meant to hurt. Your
safe word is if you absolutely cannot take it any more.”

 
“Understood, Sir.” I said as calmly as
possible, belying my rapidly beating heart. After everything, I made a mental
note that there was no way I was going to use my safe-word. I so badly wanted
to please him, to take my punishment as I deserved and as he deemed necessary.

He walked over
to pick up the first of a few instruments he had laid out, a flogger. He
started out slowly, lightly, probably so I could get used to the sensation of
it. He began on my stomach, back and forth, slowly, deliberately. I watched him
as he swung it, it was as if he were warming up for himself too, getting the
feel of it. He covered my entire body with the light brushes of it, stomach,
back, ass, backs of my legs, then worked his way up the fronts of my legs, then
my breasts. He was timing his strokes with the chanting, and even though my
focus was on him, it was becoming very trance-like, almost meditative.

Until the
harder swats started. My body was surprised by the intensity, though I was as
mentally prepared as I could be. I watched him follow the same route as before,
covering my body with harder blows. I was so focused on him and the sensation I
was trying to process the feeling of the stinging and then its fading, and then
the stinging again in a new spot. But apparently, if the first round was the
warm up, this second was intermediate. It hurt, but it was manageable.

Then came what
I guess is best described as the advanced round, and I screamed at the first
hard blow to my stomach. I tried to straighten up, but the best I could do was
grab on harder to the leather straps that connected my cuffs to the ceiling.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! And the blows kept raining and raining. I think at some
point I changed from screaming to moaning as even screaming took too much
effort, as if conserving energy could make the pain go away. I could feel tears
and snot streaming down my face as the blows kept coming. But he had shown me
the road map with the first two run throughs, so that by this one, I knew that
once he got to my breasts, that part would be over. I just didn’t know if there
was a next level.

After the
third round, he set the flogger down and picked up a towel to wipe his brow.
His focus was completely and utterly on me, and mine on him. I couldn’t take my
eyes off of him. It was almost like the connection to him made me stronger.
During this little break my breathing came back under relative control and my
crying subsided to just whimpering. I desperately wanted to wipe my nose, of
all things. There were very few parts of my body that didn’t have lingering
stinging from the flogger.

Then he picked
up a cane. I knew from that brief experience as a dog that the cane hurt more
than anything he had used so far. But I tried not to tense. I focused on Sir as
he stood beside me and then WHACK! On my ass. I screamed a low scream so loud
my voice rang in my ears. And another WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! He was criss
crossing my ass, my thighs, my entire back side. I knew now that I was sobbing,
heaving sobbing, uncontrollably, but something happened as the pain continued
to rise my sobbing stopped and I started floating, feeling the pain but also
observing it, welcoming it, moaning now with each blow instead of crying.