Jennifer's Surrender (2 page)

And that was
how it all started.

When I look
back, there’s no way that I could know something that started so innocently
could turn me into what I am today. I mean, it could have just been a normal
couple in our late 30s playing at what we thought was ‘kinky’. How could I have
known that such a silly beginning could completely transform my life? Or that I
could lose everything so quickly? Everything that used to be important to me
was gone. And I’m not talking about material things. No, I’m talking about
losing myself. My pride. My ego. My sense of self. My sense of right and wrong.
My opinions. My friends. Gone. It’s surprising how quickly they can go, or, I
should say, surprising how quickly I could let them be taken from me. I don’t
know if I can get them back. Worse still, I don’t even know if I want to be the
old me. I can’t imagine going back to the life that I used to lead, not after
what I’ve been through, not after who I’ve become, and what I’ve allowed to be
done to me.

Master reminds
me often that everything he does to me, I allow it all. All of the horrible,
hurtful, shameful, humiliating things, I go along willingly. I used to
struggle, to protest, but hesitation leads to punishment. And even my internal
struggles have mostly gone by the wayside. Mostly. He lets me know that I can
walk away whenever I want, but he knows that I won’t, that I can’t. He knows
that I need him. I think telling me that I have a choice is just one more way
that he likes to toy with me. Of course, I don’t know anymore. I don’t know
anything.

It’s an odd
sensation, giving yourself up to someone, so completely that you lose yourself
in them. In one respect, it’s ironically liberating, freeing. I am free from
thought, free from questioning. Yet I am chained by this freedom. Obviously, I
still question. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be writing this. I wouldn’t be trying to
figure it all out. Master tells me if I would just let go completely, I would
be happier. All of this struggling would be gone. And he would be happier too.
I see what my torment does to him and I hate myself for it. It’s all so clear
to him.

I finished
those first books rather quickly and soon graduated to reading more books about
D/s relationships. The more I read, the more I became obsessed with the
lifestyle. But it was all still in the fiction world, or what I could ferret
out online. I was too chicken to actually pursue anything in the real world,
but I found myself constantly looking up different terms, reading blogs, immersing
myself into the culture as much as I could without really being in it. I was so
turned on and fascinated by all of it.

Jim and I
played, but he had no idea what I was reading or how often. He also had no idea
how hard core the books had become. And it wasn’t just that what I was reading
was getting more and more base, I was starting to feel like an alcoholic, or a
drug addict. I was reading during work, at stop lights, on the treadmill… so it
couldn’t help but bleed into my relationship with Jim, bit by bit.

Slowly, he started
buying toys at my suggestion. A riding crop here, a paddle there, a couple of
butt plugs, some nipple clamps… and I bought racy lingerie. And we’d play. As
much as we knew how. I know, it sounds odd to those who aren’t in the lifestyle,
but I’ve since learned that the Dom really needs to know what he’s doing. Just
using a riding crop on someone doesn’t equal punishment and won’t make a
submissive submit, much as she wants to submit. It also won’t necessarily turn
her on. She needs someone whose control is part of who they are. Someone to
whom control is like breathing, or their eye color. It’s who they are and they
do it without thinking or trying. Just as they must control, others must submit.

As I was
learning more and more about the lifestyle, I tried to share it with Jim, but I
couldn’t make him into a Dom. Even as I write that, I realize how oxymoronic it
sounds. Just like I know now that I need to be controlled, I also know that he
didn’t need to control. We had always been equals. Funny, if I met him now, I’m
not sure that would still be the case. In fact, I don’t know how I come across
now. I can only see myself in the reflection of my Master. I once would have
been disgusted with that thought. A small part of me still is. But I am
resigned to who I am now, I think.

But I digress.
How did I get here? If I go through it step by step then maybe I can find a way
out. Or, find if I want a way out.

“For Christ’s
sake, Jen, do you think we could just have regular, normal sex once in a
while?” Jim huffed as he pulled away from me.

 
“I’m sorry, I thought you liked it when
we played.” This time I was being a naughty school girl begging the principal
for punishment. Apparently, the principal just wasn’t up for the job… Even
though I knew that it was all my doing, at my insistence, he went along
because, well, hell, because he’s a guy. Ever since I started reading the smut
that I was downloading daily, our sex life had become more frequent and more
varied. It still wasn’t nearly as good as they describe in the books, but I
took what I could get and figured that was just the divide between fiction and
reality.

 
“I do, but ever since you started reading
all those books, I feel like just regular sex bores you now.” He looked down
and then added, “like
I
bore you.
It’s like you want me to be some big bad Dom and I’m just not, Jen. You know
that.” His eyes were so soft, so sad. He was a smart, sensitive, good guy.

 
“I know, I’m sorry, Jim. I never meant to
hurt you. You don’t bore me. I love you.” Even as I said it, I knew I was
lying. Not about loving him, but about not being bored. I wanted more in our
relationship. I knew something was missing, and even just dipping our toes into
experimenting with playing in the bedroom, even though it wasn’t as satisfying
as I had hoped, it felt like I was on to something. Like I was unlocking a door
to a part of me that I never really knew existed.

 
“I love you too, Jen, but I’m not so sure
we want the same things any more.” he couldn’t even look at me when he said
this.

 
“Are you breaking up with me because I
want to try new things in our sex life?” I tried to sound incredulous.

“It’s not just
that. You’ve changed. You’re not the woman I fell in love with. It’s like
you’ve become obsessed with this damn ‘lifestyle’ and it’s just not me. And,
shit Jen, I have to kind of wonder about what type of person you are if you’re
that into it. I mean, what type of woman
wants
to be hit?”

 
“Wow. Thank goodness you’re not judging
me.” The sarcasm was obvious.

 
“I didn’t mean it to come out like that.
I, I just don’t think I can be who you want me to be.” He stood up and started
getting dressed. I knew I should argue more or try to hold him back, but he was
right. I knew I should be shocked, hurt, or feeling more than I was. But all I
was feeling was relief.

When I didn’t
say anything, after he was dressed he looked at me and said, “I’ll come back
tomorrow while you’re at work and get my stuff.” I nodded. I figured, it was
probably best to let him go, thinking that I was hurt. I knew I had already
emasculated him and genuinely didn’t want to hurt him. But he was right. He
wasn’t the guy for me. And I wasn’t the woman for him.

They say
timing is everything.

It was right
around the time that Jim and I broke up that our agency started working on a
pitch for a new chain of luxury boutique hotels and resorts. These places
offered every type of pampering and indulgence imaginable. They took care of
mind, body, spirit, offering a full service spa, yoga, pilates, personal
trainers, cleansings… But they were also known to have an amazing night life,
bars and clubs that were exclusive. And the rooms, and the grounds, well, they
were the crème de la crème. All of us hoped that if we won the account, we’d
get to stay at one of the properties for research only, of course.

Before our
pitch to any client, we would meet internally, divided up into two or three
creative teams — an art director and copywriter — and pitch our
team’s idea to Bill Kitt, the owner of the agency. His old partner, John Rand,
had sold his half of the agency to Bill years before I got there. When I first
joined Kitt & Rand, this internal pitching intimidated the hell out of me.
It was one thing to present to strangers, but to have to pitch my idea in front
of my peers, people whose opinions I valued and who I’d have to see and work
with day in, day out, somehow it was harder. Pitching or presenting to clients,
there was a distance. Pitching to my boss with my co-workers listening was so
much more intimate. He knew me, knew us. So we couldn’t bullshit, couldn’t
pretend. This intimacy, if you will, challenged us, or at least it challenged
me. Soon after I did this a couple times at K&R, I realized why Bill did
it. We were all competitive and insecure. By nature, most creative people are,
since what we’re putting out there is a part of us. Every design, every
headline is personal. And trying to explain that to non-creative people sounds
silly, but it’s true. So, making us compete against each other drove us all to
work harder, prove ourselves over and over again, each of us vying for Bill’s
approval.

Even though I
had been at this agency for almost eight years, I still got nervous before any
one of these internal pitches. I always wanted to win, sure. But more than
that, I always sought Bill’s approval. When he liked one of my ideas, his smile
and nod from across the table was like a warm hug. And when he looked down and
shook his head silently, I felt sick to my stomach. I never wanted that
reaction from him. It’s probably a big part of what drove me to work harder and
harder.

And Bill
rewarded my hard work and dedication. I worked my way up from copywriter to
Associate Creative Director to Creative Director. He was tough but fair and I
saw a direct correlation between pleasing Bill and being rewarded. I suppose
you could say this is true of any employee / employer relationship. But I’m not
sure everyone seeks or needs approval like I now know that I do. I’m not sure
where this need comes from. I had a pretty normal childhood, no abuse or trauma
that I can remember. My parents were so focused on work that it was a struggle
to get their attention, and I’m sure that must be the root of it all. I do
recall early on, maybe when I was six or so, copying poems out of books and
presenting them to my parents as my own. They were impressed and showered
praise on me for the work, work, of course, that I didn’t do, that I felt guilt
and love simultaneously. So maybe I’m hard-wired to seek approval. To do
anything to get someone’s love. I’m sure a therapist could help me figure it
out, but by now I know that I am so far gone, trying to unravel this mess would
take a lot more than just exploring my childhood.

When I look
back, I wonder if Bill had orchestrated what eventually became my relationship
with Master. It doesn’t really matter one way or another. But as I try to put
the pieces together, I wonder how much of where I am now is due to
happenstance, and how much was planned out. Perhaps if I weren’t with my
Master, I would eventually end up with another, though I can’t imagine ever
being with anybody else.

Since I was
the more senior person on the creative team, I lead the charge. The hotel chain
was called “Tutto”, Italian for “everything”. I know I was inspired by my new
obsession with the lifestyle, but I kept coming back to the idea of
surrendering.

 
“Seriously, Greg. You’re not a woman. You
have to trust me on this. The whole idea behind Tutto is that they have
everything your heart could desire. All you have to do is to surrender to it
and they’ll take care of you.” I implored.

 
“Yeah, I get it, Jen. Probably because
you’ve been stuck on this idea for days. Look, Bill knows you’re the lead
creative. If he doesn’t like it, it’s your neck, not mine.”

 
“Glad you’ve got my back, Greg.” I said
as I threw a crumpled up piece of paper at him.

 
“You know I do. I
actually
like the idea.”

“Gee, thanks
for the vote of confidence.” I rolled my eyes.

“Ok, Jen,
Greg, you’re up.” Bill said as he leaned back in his chair. He was a good
looking man. He had a quiet sensuality about him. He never did or said anything
overtly sexual, but it was almost like he just oozed it. He was big and strong,
a fitness fanatic. I wasn’t exactly sure how old he was, but I think he was
probably older than anyone thought. I assumed somewhere around 50, but he could
easily pass for early 40s.

He had really
helped nurture me and my talent over the years. I knew that I wouldn’t be where
I was if it weren’t for his patient prodding of me. I looked up to him and
appreciated everything he had done, and like I said, I always wanted to please
him. It was important to me that I never let him down.

Greg and I had
worked hard on our campaign for Tutto, and I was so sure of it. But now that I
was faced with saying the words out loud, I suddenly realized what I might
sound like. This wasn’t the first time we were pitching an overtly suggestive
sell, but there was something that now felt so personal, like I was admitting
“I want to be a submissive” to the entire room.

 
“Whenever you’re ready, Jennifer.” Bill
said, snapping me out of my mind. Shit, whenever he used my full name it made
me even more intimidated than I already was. I knew that I was turning a bright
red, but it was now or never.