Jennifer's Surrender (4 page)

The rest of
the day crawled along as I tried to focus on work, but I was so distracted,
little got done. I couldn’t remember the last time I was as nervous as I was. I
wasn’t dressed for a date, I was wearing jeans that were tucked into knee high
boots and a Vneck off white cashmere sweater. I looked stylish enough, and
between the jeans and the tight sweater, they both showed off my figure, but it
wasn’t exactly date-ware.

Traffic was
bad, which was typical for rush hour in Los Angeles, so I was a few minutes
late, which just made me even more nervous. When I walked in, I saw him sitting
at the bar with a cocktail. The day before, at the presentation, I was so
nervous and focused on the work, I really didn’t look at him as a man. I mean,
it was hard not to notice how handsome he was, but I had been concentrating on
the pitch. Now, seeing him there, all I could see was just how masculine he was.
As I approached, he looked up and smiled, disarming me even more than I already
was. When I reached him, I held out my hand to shake his. This seemed to amuse
him, but he took it and shook.

 
“It’s nice to see you again, Jennifer.”

 
“It’s nice to see you too, Stephen. I
understand we’re going to be working together.” I really had to work on my
snappy patter.

He raised his
eyebrows and nodded, “So we are.” At that point, the hostess came up and he
then put his hand on the small of my back and started leading me through the
restaurant, “Our table is waiting.” He was so self-assured, so confident, I
just let him lead me. And it was a small gesture, but the feeling of his big
hand low on my back sent shivers up my spine. I couldn’t remember the last time
a man’s touch did that to me.

When we got to
the table, he pulled out my chair and I sat.

 
“You’re nervous.” He said, which somehow
helped.

I smiled. “I
am.” And I looked down.

 
“You blush easily. It’s very cute.”

 
“Well, that just makes me blush even
more.” I said feeling my cheeks on fire.

 
“Good. I like it.” He said, never taking his
eyes off me.

 
“Are you always this blunt?”

 
“Yes. Are you always this nervous?” There
was something about him, his intensity perhaps, that made it feel like he could
see into my soul.

I shook my
head and looked down for a moment. I was always an honest person, so being
honest wasn’t foreign to me, I wasn’t someone who was used to playing games.
That said, there was just no question in my mind that I would answer him
honestly and directly. “No.” I said, and for some reason, it was barely above a
whisper.

 
“So it’s me then?” his eyebrow slightly
raised along with the corner of his mouth.

I nodded and
answered, “Yes.” And his look implied like he was waiting for something more as
his mouth lost any hint of a smile. I cleared my throat and looked up directly
into his eyes and corrected myself, “Yes, Sir.” The corner of his mouth raised
again and I exhaled, realizing that I had pleased him. It was something so
simple, but that was what he was waiting for.

 
“I know I asked you on the phone, but I
might be more comfortable if I know why I’m here. Is this a date, Stephen?” I
asked. Saying his name sounded weird on my lips and I could tell he didn’t like
hearing it, at least not from me. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this
would be one of the last times I used it.

 
“That’s very important for you to know,
Jennifer?” he asked and I nodded so he continued, “I was intrigued by your
campaign idea.” He lifted his cocktail and took a sip, and I realized, I was at
a disadvantage, well, I was at many disadvantages being there with him, not the
least of which was that I didn’t have a drink to calm my nerves.

As he sipped,
I asked, “You like the idea of surrendering?” I was trying to be cute and he
smiled for a moment but then his expression turned serious quickly.

 
“I like the idea of
you
surrendering. And so do you.” There. Simply stated. There was
no point in me arguing or protesting. He was right. And this is what I wanted.
He seemed to be the type of man to give it to me, and I could try it with him
to see if it really was something I was interested in or if it was just
fantasy.

 
“At a resort like Tutto, right? Um, yeah,
I, of course I like that idea. I mean….” I was someone who made my living
stringing words together and suddenly I couldn’t form a sentence.

 
“No, Jennifer, not just at a resort like
Tutto. To a man.” He said unflinching. We were no more than a minute or two
into this date and he actually said that. Oh boy was I in over my head.

 
“Are you really asking me what I think
you’re asking?”

 
“Well, let’s see. Have you ever
surrendered to a man, little bird?” that was the first time anyone had ever
called me little. I’m tall, 5’9”, and although I’m thin, I’ve never been called
little, or bird like.

 
“No, not in the way I think you’re
suggesting. And I’m not little.” I felt like this entire conversation was so
far a challenge, a duel.

He smiled,
“No, you’re not little, but you’re fragile, timid, at least with me, you seem
like a little bird who might frighten easily and fly away.”

 
“I’m here with you now, and I haven’t
left, yet.”

He smiled
again, “That’s true, Jennifer, and I admire your spirit.” I hated that any tiny
bit of praise made me happy, but it did, and he could see that.

 
“Isn’t that incongruous? You like my
spirit but you also like the idea of me surrendering?” It was important to me
that he knew I was smart, that I had a brain in this little bird head that he
saw.

 
“It probably is to you, but not to me.
Actually, Jennifer, that makes you even more attractive.” Naturally, I blushed
again and he smiled. “So, you’ve never submitted to a man before? But you came
up with the idea for the campaign? If it didn’t come from experience, do you
know where it came from? Do you think you just arrived at that idea from a
purely intellectual level?”

I shook my
head, “No. It’s something that just makes sense to me, to a certain extent.”

 
“I see. But you’re, how old are you?”

Wow, this man
had no filters. It wasn’t that he was rude, he just got to the point. And
quickly. “36” I replied. There was no point in me lying.

 
“You’re 36 and you’ve never explored that
side of yourself?” he seemed genuinely surprised.

 
“That’s an awfully personal question for
two minutes in to a first date.” I tried to deflect. And where was the damn
waitress? I could really use a drink.

 
“I’m not one to beat around the bush.” He
said.

“No, you don’t
seem to be.” I took a breath and figured I wasn’t going to get away with idle
chit chat with this man, so I answered honestly, “I never was aware that it was
something to, uh, explore until I started reading about it.”

 
“And what have you read?” his eyebrows
lifted and a smirk came to his lips. Thankfully, a waitress finally appeared
and I ordered a glass of wine. But she left as quickly as she came, so I was
faced with answering.

 
“Mostly a lot of female erotica, some of
it about BDSM. God, I can’t believe I just said that to you.”

 
“I appreciate your honesty, Jennifer. A
relationship like this can’t exist if people aren’t honest with each other.”

 
“A relationship like what?” I asked. He
didn’t seem to like that question.

 
“You’re a smart woman. And I just told
you I like honesty. Don’t be coy.” It was clearly a command and I felt
chastised. I looked down.

 
“I’m sorry, Sir.” That time, the ‘sir’
came almost immediately, naturally.

 
“Are you ready to explore? Or are you
content just reading about it?” he asked, even though I’m sure he knew the
answer.

 
“Well, now aren’t you the one being coy?”

He smiled and
said, “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Obviously, I
had no idea what I was saying yes to. “So, what happens now? Do you take me
home and chain me to a Saint Andrews cross?”

He chuckled,
“I see you have been doing some research. No, Jennifer, not tonight at least.
Tonight, we’ll have dinner and you can ask me all the questions that I can tell
you have about the lifestyle, and I will answer you honestly and give you as
much information as I can to help you make an informed decision. I am not
taking you home tonight. If you’re still interested after you’ve digested
everything, and I sincerely hope that you are, then we’ll spend the weekend
together.”

 
“And that’s how it would be? You tell me,
you don’t ask?”

 
“Yes and no. Mostly yes. If you had prior
plans, then I assume you’d tell me, and we’d work around them, or you would
change them. But yes, I tell you that you’re spending the weekend with me, and
you trust that I will take complete control and care of you. You don’t have to
worry about where we’re going to eat or what we’re going to do. You don’t have
to plan. It really is what you described about my hotels, so I know that you
understand it intellectually.”

I nodded, and
I did. “But there’s more to it than just that.”

 
“Yes, little bird, of course there is,”
he said with a mischievous smile. “That’s the fun part.”
 

The rest of
the dinner ran a similar course. I asked lots of questions and he was more than
happy to answer them. It was unlike any date I had ever had before. There was
not pretense, no game-playing. All the cards were on the table. We also talked
about work, how he and Bill became friends, so it wasn’t all a D/s Q&A. I’m
not sure I could have eaten anything if it were.

He continued
to alternate between calling me ‘little bird’ and Jennifer, but hearing his
nickname for me was so endearing, I wondered how someone could be such a
contradiction, at one moment tender, and the next stern.

At the end of
the evening, we waited at the valet stand for our cars, and I asked my final
question for the night, “Is there any doubt in your mind that we’ll spend the
weekend together?”

He smiled
sweetly and brushed my cheek with the back of his hand and shook his head, “No,
there isn’t.” he paused and tucked my hair behind my ear and then his eyes came
back to mine, “But you should sleep on it and think about it and let me know in
the morning.” I nodded, looking up at him, and then, with his one hand still in
my hair, he leaned down and kissed me. In my 36 years on this earth, I had
never before experienced a kiss like this. I wish I could describe it, but I
was so lost in his lips and his tongue and his teeth I think I moaned at some
point. Like the rest of his personality, his kiss was both rough and tender.
All during dinner, talking about sex for much of it, I was thankful I was
wearing jeans and not light colored pants or a skirt because I knew there was a
veritable puddle between my legs. But after this kiss, I wondered if even the
jeans could hide what I was feeling.

I’m not sure
how long we stood there kissing. My entire body was tingling. And I wasn’t the
only one excited. His erection was pressing up against me and it was clear this
man was very well endowed. When we finally broke apart, I actually stumbled.
Thankfully, he was still holding on to me and steadied me while I regained my
balance. I heard someone clear their throat and realized the valet was waiting
with our keys and our cars.

 
“Drive safely, little bird. Sleep well.”
He said and I smiled and mumbled a “thank you, you too.” Though really, I’m not
sure words came out of my mouth. A man shouldn’t be able to kiss that well,
because women don’t think straight after a kiss like that.

Looking back, deciding
to spend that first weekend with him was the last true decision I made on my
own that wasn’t fear-based. Not fear of abuse. Fear of loss. There are so many
books out there that romanticize the whole D/s relationship. They say that the
submissive is the one who holds all the cards, that s/he is the one to set her
limits, and while her Dom might push them, ultimately, she can safe-word or set
boundaries in the beginning, and that it’s all about her pleasure.

It’s akin to
the notion that stripping somehow empowers women rather than objectifying them.
I’ve heard this argument before and never understood it. Now, sitting where I
am, I can tell you, it’s complete and utter horse shit. The sub is the one who
gives up all control, whose will is broken, whose mind is twisted to believe
that she can’t contradict her master. That’s not power. That’s the opposite of
it.

I had so many
questions, but I couldn’t talk about Master, or the lifestyle, to anybody. Who
would understand? And, if I did tell any of my friends, they’d do everything
they could to make me leave. Not being in the lifestyle, there’s no way they
could understand. All they would see was the pain it caused me, and I’m not
talking about the physical pain. But they wouldn’t understand that either. No,
they wouldn’t get any of it. So, I started pulling away. Slowly, I stopped
socializing with my friends. I had never been close to my family, so they
didn’t notice when it was longer in between phone calls than usual. It wasn’t
Master’s fault. He didn’t order me to. He didn’t need to.

It would have
been like trying to be friends with a bunch of sober people, and I suddenly
started drinking. A lot. I couldn’t be drunk around them. I couldn’t talk about
drinking or alcohol or why I wanted to get drunk. That’s the best analogy I
have. That, or being inducted into a cult and I still have a shred of pride
left to know that I’m not dumb enough to let that happen. Then again, stranger
things…