The Seduction Rebecca's Lost Journals Volume 1(10)

Thursday, February 3, 2011

            So much has changed in the past two weeks. To Mark’s displeasure, I gave a short notice at the restaurant. It was so crazy busy, juggling both jobs, that I didn’t have time to write in my journals. I still haven’t, despite leaving the restaurant fully a week ago. There have been events at the gallery, and . . . there has been another big change. Him.

            He’s become a huge part of my life. He, who wants to be known simply as “Master,” has swept into my world and torn away walls I never knew existed, and that I’m not sure I want torn down. But he wants to tear them down. He says he will control me, command my body, and show me pleasure like I’ve never known. He will show me trust that is the greatest bond two people can share. He will fuck me senseless, and then do it again and again until I know nothing but him.

            Why does this appeal to me? Why am I considering this? If I know nothing but him, where will I be? How will I exist? He hasn’t touched me yet, but I feel as if he has. Josh showed up with wine, and nothing he could do could entice me this time. There is only him, my would-be “Master.” And that is what he wants. I share my joys and fears and pain with him. He will show me rewards and escapes.

            When he first told me I was a natural submissive, I didn’t believe him. I lean on no one. But he says that makes me need the outlet he can offer: the place where I can safely hand over all that I am, and just feel. It frightens me to realize how much this idea seeps into me and flows so easily. Handing over control to this man terrifies me . . . but it also arouses me like nothing in this lifetime ever has, besides art.

            He wants to meet tomorrow night, to give me a small taste of what he is offering me. He promises to start slow and give me the chance to test the waters before we go very far, and before we sign an agreement as a true Master and Submissive.

            An agreement that says he owns my body.





Friday, February 4, 2011

            My first submissive experience is tonight. I still can’t believe I’m doing this. I still can’t believe I want this. How has two weeks changed so much about what I know of myself? The woman who wants this isn’t me, and yet she is. Or maybe it’s because of who he is? Had any other man presented this to me, I would have laughed. He’s sunk deep into my body and soul and stirred something molten and thick with possibilities outside my realm of full understanding.

            He’s invited me to his home and will send a car to pick me up, because he said as “his” (like he owns me), I wouldn’t be taking trolleys to the places I needed to go. My objection was waved away and he made himself clear: When I am his, I will be taken care of. There was no “if” to his statement. His desire to own me scares me more than the unknowns of a BDSM relationship. I’ve only depended on one person in my life, my mother, who not only died, but betrayed me in ways that still cut deep.

            The choice to get into the car and come to him was mine, he’d said. I had to make the decision, knowing what waited for me. Knowing the instant I crossed the entryway, I was under his control.





Sunday, February 6, 2011

            Last night was amazing. When the car came, I was taken to a spa instead of his house. I had my hair and makeup done, plus a full wax. He even had a dress there waiting for me. Red, short, clingy. No panties or bra allowed underneath, per his note in the box. Also per the note, the driver would give me the choice when I returned to the car to either go home to my apartment or go to him. There was no question in my mind: I was going to him.

            I remember settling into the comfort of the soft leather seat and how shockingly aroused I was, just imagining what my submissive experience might be like. My thighs had been slick, my nipples tight and tingling. It really was an insane reaction when I hadn’t even made it to his home yet.

            Once I was there, my adventure truly began. He opened the door and his presence slid over me, wickedly hot and powerful, washing away the coldness of the night. He wore soft faded jeans and a T-shirt. His feet were bare, as if he was ready to be naked in a flash. I wanted him to be naked in that moment. I think I always want him to be naked.