Jennifer's Surrender (21 page)

 
“Yes, Sir.” I said and then got out of
the car and watched him drive away.

Once he was
gone, I was very aware of the fact that I didn’t have a bra on as I walked
through the building lobby. I tried to ‘own it’ as they say, keeping my head held
high. My first stop was Bill’s office. I cleared my throat as I stood
sheepishly in his doorway. He looked up and smiled sweetly, “Come on in, Jen.
Have a seat.”

 
“Um, should I close the door?” I asked
expecting to get reamed.

 
“Why do you always think it’s the worst,
Jen? No, you don’t need to close the door. I’m not mad at you.”

 
“You’re not?” I asked as I lowered myself
carefully to the chair, both because of my sore ass and my lack of bra.

 
“No, in fact I was going to tell Stephen,
if you need to take the day, then you should.” He paused and then added, “He is
the client after all.”

I wasn’t
exactly sure what Sir had told him as to why I was late, but whatever it was,
Bill definitely wasn’t mad.

 
“Oh, well, um, thanks. But I’m here now,
and ready to work. I’ll stay late tonight to make up for it.”

Bill shook his
head and smiled, “You’re very special, Jen. Both Stephen and I are lucky to
have you.”

I tried not to
overthink that and just thanked him and left, walking gingerly to my office.
Jeans and a recently belted ass definitely did not mix.

I had always
envied those people who knew, from an early age, precisely what they wanted to
do. I remember friends as early as junior high who knew they wanted to be
doctors or lawyers or whatever it was. Whether it was because of an innate
internal desire of their own, or guidance from their parents, or experiences
they had growing up, I’ve never been sure. But what I do know is that I was
never one of those people. I didn’t exactly flounder, but I wouldn’t say that I
had a clear path that I’ve walked down towards my goals.

And the more
that I’m with Master, the murkier any previous goals become. So I wonder,
again, if it’s because of this lack of clear direction from early on, if that’s
how I’ve allowed myself to become so easily manipulated by someone.

I kind of fell
into my career, I had never set out to be in advertising. I’m grateful that
I’ve come as far as I have, but I know I wouldn’t be where I am if it hadn’t
been for Bill, molding me to be the creative director that I now am. I know if
I had ended up at a larger agency, without his mentorship, I may very well
still be a copywriter, and I might be just fine at that level. It’s just
becoming very clear that, without someone, a strong man, guiding me, I don’t
know where I would be. I’m not sure which I’m ashamed more of. That notion, or
what I let Master do to me. Or, the fact that I enjoy it.

I imagine
there are many people who stumble through life with untapped potential. I know
when I was with Jim, I wasn’t unhappy. But now that I know what I’m capable of:
the amount of pleasure I can feel, the surprising place that pain takes me to,
the great highs I feel when Master is happy with me, and the even lower lows
that I feel when I disappoint him, when he humiliates me. I don’t know if
anyone sets out to end up where I am right now. But if I believe what Master
tells me, I think that this is where I was meant to be all along.

Friday morning
I went to a different coffee house than normal. I still wasn’t comfortable
walking around without a bra, so I figured avoidance was my friend. I’m a full
C cup, and while the girls still look pretty great, it’s not the norm to see a
woman my size without a little support. I had managed to get through the day before
by pretty much keeping to my office, though, after the anal sex, there were a
couple times I had to run to the bathroom which is embarrassing enough at work,
but walking quickly without support really sucks. However, Sir got what he
wanted. It was hard for me to go through the day without being reminded of him,
not that he needed to go to these measures. I thought about him more than I should
have anyway.

I chose a café
I’d never been to. It was on my way to work, but not in my neighborhood so I
figured it was the perfect place to go for my caffeine fix. There must have
been a dozen people in line in front of me, at least. I was looking down at my
phone when I heard a woman behind me say, “Jen?” I felt the hairs on the back
of my neck stand. I knew that voice. I turned around slowly and came face to
face with Sara of all people. There goes my attempt at anonymity.

 
“Hi Sara” I said coolly. The last time I
had seen her I was naked and had just been punished. But it was the way she had
treated me before that had really pissed me off. I put my shoulders back and
straightened my spine. I may have been on my knees the last time she saw me,
but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her think that I lived down there.

My attitude
must have worked, because she backed down immediately, “Hey, um, gosh this is
embarrassing.”

 
“What is?” I said defiantly.

 
“Well, running into you.” she said
sheepishly.

 
“LA can be a small town, Sara. You never
know who you’ll see.” I was in full on bitch mode. I certainly wasn’t going to give
her the satisfaction of being embarrassed.

 
“Look, I owe you an apology.” She paused,
waiting for me to say something. But I let the silence hang there as I kept my
eyes on hers, which soon fell to the floor. When she looked back up, mine were
still boring into hers, “Um, I’m sorry for treating you the way I did.”

 
“You should be.” I said and her jaw
actually dropped. Clearly she was expecting a doormat.

 
“Are, are you ok?” she asked. I raised my
eyebrows as if to say ‘why wouldn’t I be?’ and she continued, “I mean, after
what Stephen did to you?”

 
“Don’t I look ok?”

 
“Well, yeah, but oh my God, I’ve never
seen anything like that before. I mean,” she looked around before she
continued, lowering her voice, “he whipped you. He beat you.”

 
“And
you
thought it would be fun to watch.
You
thought trying to humiliate me and make me lick a plate clean would be fun. Was
it? Was that all fun for you, Sara?” I’m not sure where my strength had come
from, but it felt good, really good to be in the driver’s seat.

 
“No, I feel awful. I am so sorry. I’m not
sure what came over me.” She said sincerely, then asked genuinely, “But why do
you let him treat you like that?” And suddenly, all my bravado went out the
window. What could I possibly say? That he does it to show me how much he
cares? He does it to bring me and him pleasure? I allow it to make him happy?
There wasn’t any possible reply that didn’t make me sound like some pathetic
woman who stayed with an abusive husband or boyfriend. I never understood why
women stayed with men who beat them, but standing there with Sara, I started to
wonder, am I that different than they are?

The line was
moving and it was my turn to order. I didn’t have an answer for Sara. I didn’t
have an answer for me. So I turned to the barista and placed my order. In the
time that it took for me to order my coffee and pay, by the time I turned back
around to answer Sara, I saw her back as she was walking out the café door,
clearly shaken. It looked like she was crying as I saw her profile through the
window walking quickly away. It was like she couldn’t get away from me fast
enough.
 

When I finally
got my coffee, I too was shaken. I got back into my car, and even though I knew
it might make me late, I drove back to my apartment and put on a bra and
underwear. I had enough reminders of Sir, and right now, none of them were
pleasant.

Thankfully,
traffic was on my side and I got to work on time. I really wasn’t up for
apologizing to Bill for being late again. I went straight to my office and buried
myself in work. Mid-morning, my phone rang. Naturally, it was Sir. It was like
he had antennae.

 
“Good morning, Sir.” I answered, trying
to sound pleasant.

 
“Good morning, Jennifer, how are you?”

 
“I’m ok, thanks. How are you?” I asked
robotically.

 
“Just ok? Is something wrong?”

I sighed.
There was no point in trying to lie or obfuscate. “I ran into Sara this
morning. It was uncomfortable and unpleasant.”

 
“I see.” I was really starting to hate
that phrase of his. “We can talk about it tonight.” He declared and I didn’t
answer. “Jennifer?” he sounded like he was talking to a child.

 
“I’m not so sure I should come over
tonight.” I was surprised those words actually came out of my mouth.

 
“I see.” There was that damn phrase
again. “And when were you planning on sharing that with me?”

 
“I was so shaken after my encounter this
morning, it just happened a couple hours ago, I hadn’t really thought about
tonight until just now, until you mentioned it. I wasn’t trying to keep
anything from you. Just, just everything she said, I, I’m starting to question
everything.” My heart was pounding as I was talking, and I knew my voice was
shaking.

 
“Ok. Well, I’d still like to see you. And
I’d like to talk about what you’re feeling, and help you find the answers to
your questions. But it’s up to you if you want that. If you want to keep seeing
me.” His voice had softened, and just hearing him offer this weakened my
resolve.

 
“I left my place today the way you wanted
me to be, but after running into Sara, I went back home and changed, putting on
a bra and underwear. So, if I come over, you can’t punish me for that.”

 
“I can’t?” he sounded somewhere between
amused and angry, at the thought that I was telling him what to do.

 
“Please don’t.” and I sounded weak.

 
“We’ll discuss it when I see you.” he
said and then added, “I will see you tonight, won’t I, Jennifer?”

I took a deep
breath. Both of us knew the answer. But I replied, meekly, anyway, “Yes, Sir.
I’ll see you tonight.”

 
“Good. Now, stop worrying, little bird.”

 
“Yes, Sir.” I said unconvincingly.

 
“Good bye, Jennifer.”

 
“Good bye, Sir.”

That night, I
drove up to Malibu more confused than ever. I knew I wanted to be with him, I
knew there were parts of our relationship that made me feel amazing, and I
didn’t want to walk away from those. But there were other things, things that
when said out loud, sounded so awful, I wasn’t sure I could keep doing them.

I’m not sure
why it took someone else, a relative stranger, to point out what should have
been obvious to me.

When I got out
of the car, Sir walked out of the front door to greet me, and pulled me into a
big hug. I wasn’t expecting that, but obviously, he knew I needed comforting.
We stood there for a long time as he stroked my back and hair, kissing the top
of my head and just holding me. It felt so good. Finally he pulled back and
asked, “Ready to come inside, little bird?” I just nodded, and walked hand in
hand with him inside.

When we got
in, I instinctively started taking my clothes off. Sir stood, leaning against
the banister with his arms crossed and watched me. Once I was naked, and my
clothes were folded, sitting on the entryway table where I always put them, I
knelt down into position and then looked up, awaiting further instruction. He
smiled.

 
“Why did you just undress and kneel,
Jennifer?” he asked softly.

I thought it
was a trick question. “What? What do you mean? Those are your rules. You told
me from the first time I was here that you wanted me naked when I was here. And
that I should kneel until or unless you told me otherwise.” I looked around,
like my surroundings would somehow have my answer. Then I looked back at him
and asked, “You, you don’t want me anymore?” and I could feel my heart
pounding. I could feel the tears pricking my eyes.

 
“Come here, little bird.” He said, still
softly, as he held his hands out. I stood up and took them and he led us to the
living room where he motioned for me to sit on the couch with him.

 
“Jennifer, this morning you were ready to
walk away. But the moment you’re here, you immediately submit to me. Do you see
how I might be confused by this?”

I nodded and
then shook my head as laughed lightly, “It’s already become instinctual.” I
admitted. He nodded and smiled, knowingly.

 
“Do you want to tell me what happened
with Sara this morning?”

I looked down
and took a deep breath and then said, “She apologized for acting the way she
did.” He nodded and let me pause. “And then she asked how I could let you do
those things to me. And I didn’t have an answer.”

 
“Why does it matter to you what she
thinks?”

 
“It doesn’t. What matters is that I
didn’t have an answer for me. If I say out loud, ‘I let a man humiliate me in
front of other people and beat me with my permission.’ When I say those words,
I can’t believe I’m talking about myself.”

 
“But when you’re with me, when you do
those things, when you accept what I give you, good and bad, how do you feel?”

 
“You know the answer to that.” And the
minute I said it, I knew that I did too.

 
“I want to hear you say it. I want
you
to hear
yourself
say it.”