Jennifer's Surrender (30 page)

Finally, he
came in, and again, he had a wolfish grin on his face. “Are you ready for your
surprise, little bird?”

 
“I don’t know if I’m ever ready with you,
Sir.” He smiled.

 
“Well, all you have to do is know that
this is what I want. You know, Jennifer, this last week, it became clear to me,
that you still have a lot to learn about true submission. And I know it’s
something you struggle with. But I also know you want to submit to me, little
bird.” He stroked my cheek as he talked. His gestures were tender, but there
was an edge to his voice. “This evening is all about proving your submission to
me. Last night, I showed you how much pleasure I can bring you, isn’t that so,
Jennifer?”

I swallowed
and tentatively replied “Yes, Sir.” I assumed that this was my punishment,
especially since we were down in the playroom. I’d taken punishment before, so I
knew what to expect.

 
“Last night was for your pleasure.
Tonight can be too. But you just need to give in. It will please me,
regardless. But you can enjoy it too if you just let yourself. Now then,” and
he went over to a drawer retrieving a thick black leather collar which he
fastened snugly. Then he put cuffs on each of my wrists and fastened them to
each other behind my back. He clipped a leash onto my collar and then finally
fastened a black blindfold snugly over my eyes. Aside from the blindfold,
cuffs, collar and chain, I was naked. And now I couldn’t see. I was reminded
the effect that had on me, as all my other senses were heightened. I heard him
open the door and pull my chain, leading me out of the playroom.
Out?
He led me up the steps and I could
tell we went through the kitchen, across the entryway, through the living room,
down a hallway and stopped. There were plenty of rooms in his house I had yet
to be in. I never deigned go into any without permission.

I could hear
muffled voices, men’s voices. And then Sir opened a door and all the voices
hushed. I could hear ice clinking in glasses and rustling of clothing. Mostly,
I heard my heart pounding. Sir had just brought me, naked, into a room full of
strange men. How many, I didn’t know. Suddenly, over the speakers I started
hearing my voice. It was all the things I had said last night. All the dirty
things, edited, against the background of Nine Inch Nails
I want to fuck you like an animal
.

I heard my
voice saying
I’m a greedy cocksucker.
Greedy cocksucker. Harder. Harder. Fuck my ass. Fuck my ass.
 
I’m your cockwhore, cockwhore,
cockwhore.
 
Over and over,
edited like they do with songs where they play a word or a phrase over and over
again. Then I heard the men laughing.

 
“Gentlemen, this is, well, she put it
best, didn’t she? She’s my cockwhore.” Laughter bellowed. I tried to make out
how many men, there had to be at least four or five different voices.

 
“Stephen, she’s blushing. The greedy
cocksucker is blushing.” One of the voices said, and they all laughed again.

I turned to
where I heard his voice and I said, “Sir?” and he slapped my cheek. Hard. I
felt tears come to my eyes. Then he pushed his foot behind my knees so that I
fell onto them. He was still holding my chain, and jerked me up so I wouldn’t
fall forward.

 
“Gentlemen, my little slut here is still
learning about true submission, aren’t you?” and as he asked that, he jerked my
chain.

I whispered,
“Yes, Sir,” from out of somewhere. I couldn’t believe what was happening. What
he was doing to me. My voice was still playing over the speakers.
Fuck me, fuck me, more, more, more. Fuck my
tight ass, tight ass. I’m so wet, so wet, so wet. Please sir, please, please.

 
“She still has a lot to learn, so I
thought you, my friends, could help teach her. As you can hear, she likes all
her holes used, so enjoy them all.”

I felt him
give the chain to someone else and I turned my head in the direction that he
was but a hand grabbed my face and turned it back, roughly opened my mouth and
shoved a condom-wrapped dick in my mouth. “Suck.” Was all the voice said. I was
momentarily paralyzed until the man’s hands grabbed my head and pulled it down
onto his cock and said, “I’m not going to tell you twice.” So I started sucking
as if my life depended on it, because part of me thought it might. I could feel
the tears behind my blindfold but it was useless. I now knew,
this
was my punishment. No whips. No
floggers. Being gang-banged by a room full of unknown men. I also knew, at that
moment that the only thing I could do would be to surrender to it. My mind went
into survival mode and all I focused on was, if I got through this, it would
end. Eventually. And if I made them happy, then maybe they would go easy on me.

I don’t know
how much time passed. Over and over there were cocks shoved into my mouth, my
pussy, my ass, often at the same time. I was pulled this way and that, by my
hair, by my bound arms, by the leash. At first I tried to just go limp and do
nothing, but I was very quickly punished for not ‘doing my best.’ So I did. All
throughout hearing my own voice over and over. Finally, they all came, some
shooting their come on me, as if everything else they did wasn’t enough
humiliation, they had to mark me too.

I heard them
all zipping up, laughing, talking as they all left. I heard the front door
close and then footsteps come back to me. I knew those footsteps. He turned the
music and the recording of my voice off. “I enjoyed watching you, little bird.”
He said as he unbound my collar. “My friends enjoyed themselves too.” Then he
took off my cuffs, “I think you even enjoyed it, enjoyed submitting,” and then
finally he undid my blindfold. It took me a moment to adjust my eyes to the
light. He reached to stroke my hair and I jerked back, “Oh Jennifer, don’t be
like that.”

 
“Get the fuck away from me.” I said, my
voice raspy from so many cocks being shoved down my throat.

 
“Jennifer, I told you I’d be sharing you
with my friends.”

 
“You call that ‘sharing’? I was just
gang-raped and you call it ‘sharing’?” I screamed.

 
“Jennifer, you need to mind your
manners.”

 
“And you need to go fuck yourself.” I
said, trying to get to my feet. Everything was so sore. I stumbled, and he held
out his hand to steady me. “Don’t you touch me. Don’t you ever touch me again.”
I said, but he didn’t let go.

 
“Jennifer, you need to understand what
true submission is.” He said sternly. “I was here the whole time, I wouldn’t
have let anything bad happen to you.” I could tell he really didn’t get it. He
had no idea. This was normal to him. Him and his fucked up lifestyle. I finally
realized there was only one word he would understand.

 
“Surrender.” I said as I looked him
directly in the eye.

He blinked and
shook his head. “You’re using your safe-word? Now?” And something registered,
at least for a moment.

 
“It’s a little hard to speak when there
are cocks shoved in your mouth. Now, let go of me and get out of my way.” He
let go and I used the chair next to me to help myself stand. I walked tenderly
through the living room, grabbing a throw that was draped over the back of a
couch and wrapped myself in it. I got my purse from the table by the front
door, leaving my clothes there. I slowly walked out the door, down the front
steps, across the pebbled driveway to my car, got in, and drove away.

I started
writing this wondering how far he would push me. Wondering what would happen
when he truly broke me. I worried that once he did, that
he
wouldn’t want
me
. Did
it take that evening of faceless men to teach me that perhaps
I
could possibly not want
him
? I think it did. I think it took him
pushing me so far that I finally saw it would never be far enough for him. I
was so worried that I wouldn’t know when too much was enough. Now I do.

If it hadn’t
been that evening, it would have been something else. Some other indignity,
humiliation, that somehow brought him enjoyment. I don’t know that I’ll ever
understand it because I don’t think I could ever enjoy watching someone I cared
for being hurt like that. Of course, he didn’t see it as being hurt. Then
again, before Sir, I never would have thought I could derive pleasure from
pain. So perhaps that’s in me too. But I doubt it. I won’t let myself go there
to see if that personality flaw exists inside me. I don’t crave that type of
power, and I don’t ever want to.

I have read
plenty of fiction eroticizing gang-bangs. I now have first hand experience with
one. Maybe, just the same way that most people wouldn’t derive pleasure from
pain, perhaps some women really do get off on being used like that. But there
was nothing pleasurable about it. All I felt was violation.

Early on, he
asked me if I trusted him, and there was no question in my mind that I did. I
now realize that I
wanted
to trust
him, so I chose to. I blindly put my trust into someone I didn’t really know at
all. Of course, there were red flags from the beginning, but I chose to ignore
them. I wanted to believe that this lifestyle couldn’t possibly hurt me because
it was all supposed to be about pleasure, and if I would just give into it, I’d
see that.

I did give in.
I did believe. And then I didn’t.

Somehow I
drove myself home. If I were asked how I got there, I couldn’t have said. I’m
sure I shouldn’t have been driving. But I made it. That, in and of itself, was
a huge milestone. I climbed up the few steps and steadied my hand enough to get
the key in the lock. I let the blanket fall off of me and staggered to the
bathroom. All I wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep for a long, long time,
but I had to wash them off of me. I had to try to clean myself. I wanted to
soak in a tub, but I knew that would mean I’d be soaking in them, in their
filth, their fluids. It didn’t matter, because I didn’t have a bathtub. So I
forced myself to stand in the shower, scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing. I
stayed there until the water turned cold. Only then did I finally turn it off
and manage to get out and dry myself.

As much as I
hated the thought of anything ever going inside me again, I forced myself to
douche, both holes, to try to rid the last vestiges of them. It seemed they all
wore condoms, but just in case. Even in this impaired state, I patted myself on
the back for these small steps that I took for me. Then, I put on an old pair
of very worn sweats and a long sleeve thermal and curled up in bed and fell
asleep. I didn’t cry. I didn’t have enough energy to. I had spent what little
strength I had getting home and showered and cleaned. So I lay there. Every now
and then I’d drift awake and make it to the bathroom to pee, or get a glass of
water. But that was it. Day turned into night and then back into day. I had
heard my cell buzz over and over but then finally it went silent, and I was
grateful for what I assumed was a dead battery. I had no concept of time. I had
turned the clock away so I couldn’t see it. Time didn’t matter. Nothing did.

Eventually, I
heard knocking at my front door. I ignored it and just stayed in bed. But the
knocking and muffled yells of my name returned. I recognized that voice. But I
didn’t have the energy or will to get up. So I lay there. Then finally I heard
my door open and the sound of Bill calling my name frantically until I saw him
in the doorway of my bedroom. He turned to my landlord and said something, I
couldn’t really process what, and the landlord left.

Bill walked
over to my bed tentatively. I scooted back. I didn’t know who I could trust
anymore. He said my name a few times, maybe checking to see if I was
responsive.

 
“Jen, honey, I’m going to sit down here
on the bed ok?” he said softly. I just looked at him. “Jen, I’m not going to
hurt you, I’m just going to sit here.” His voice was so soft, so scared. I’d
never heard Bill afraid, but that’s what it sounded like. Fear.

I felt the bed
give as he gingerly lowered himself. I stared at him, feeling like my eyes were
bugging out of my head.

 
“Sweetheart, I’m going to touch your
forehead to see if you have a fever, ok?” he said and I just stared. I saw his
hand slowly come towards my face and I scrunched my eyes closed. I couldn’t
bear the thought of being touched, but I was backed against the wall and had
nowhere to turn. Very slowly, he put his hand gently on my forehead, brushing
back my hair, and left it there. The first touch made me jump, but he just left
it there, and I calmed. It was warm. I opened my eyes again and he was just
looking at me. A small smile came over his face and he said, “Well, you don’t
feel like you have fever, so there’s some positive news, right?”

 
“Jen, can you talk to me, can you tell me
what’s wrong? I can take you to a doctor or get you some help, but I don’t know
what’s wrong with you sweetie.” I shook my head no. “Ok, ok. Well, that’s a
start.” He gave another soft smile, obviously happy I could at least shake my
head. “Honey, do you know what day it is?” I shook my head no again.

 
“It’s Wednesday. And I was worried when
you didn’t come into work and I couldn’t get a hold of you. Ok?” I nodded yes.
“Good, ok. Honey, are you hungry at all?” I shook my head no.

 
“All right, but it doesn’t look like
you’ve eaten in a few days.” He said and I didn’t reply. It wasn’t a yes or no
question. “I’m going to crack a window, get a little fresh air in here. Ok, I’m
just going to get up really slowly.” I nodded yes and my eyes followed him to
the window. He pushed the shades open and the bright light made me squint. He
opened the window and for the first time in days I heard sounds other than my
breathing and heartbeat. Traffic. Birds. People. All signs that life went on.