Geenas Life Ch 04

This is the story of the beginning of my relationship with Steven, my Master and my husband. If you have read my previous stories you know that I have had a longing toward submission which only has grown stronger year after year. One might get the impression that this has consumed my every moment, but this would be incorrect. I have actually struggled with my desire to be a strong professional career woman and the longing to surrender my own free will to someone whom I could fully love and trust and who respected loved and cared for me at the same time. Along the way I have surrendered to the latter dream for the former need. I have shared some of those and left out a few that I am a little more ashamed of. But there has always been a lot more to my life than those stories.

I am a rehab nurse, very proud of my profession and sure of my skills. I love to travel and, before my marriage, was more likely to do so on my own than rather than with someone else. I love to learn new things and even taught myself how to play the piano. And I lived with myself, for the most part. So my life was a bit of a contradiction and really still is.

When first I met Dr. Ross, I really didn't care much for him. It wasn't his arrogance really, most Doctors seem to be, at least a little. He was the type I picture working out at the gym and checking himself out in the mirror, grunting loudly while pounding weights, that sort of thing. But he was a handsome man and very self assured. He was a talented doctor as well and like me had a deep interest in research.

The thing that bothered me about him was the most difficult to put your finger on. It may sound cliché, but he had this uncanny way of looking at you that made you feel like he could see right into your soul. I just felt very uncomfortable with that. Imagine being with someone who you knew could read your every thought. Imagine how uncomfortable that would be. That's how I felt.

So, initially, I only saw him when I had to professionally. This worked well for sometime until he asked for me to work on his research project with him. He didn't ask really, it was more like an announcement. Though I enjoyed research there is little time for nurses to be involved in such things. As was the case in every hospital I worked, there were far too few of us to go around. I knew this meant that the work would be done in addition to my normal shift work. Dr Ross wasn't my supervisor and I could have protested, but I didn't.

Though I enjoyed the project, this made a long day much longer. It also meant a lot of hours with a person that attracted me in some ways and made me uncomfortable in other ways. After some time working together, he began taking an interest in my personal life. Not like he was trying to hit on me, but rather more like a father would talk to his daughter when she would come home from college- At least in the beginning.

Gradually the questions turned to suggestions, the suggestions to requests. Things like how I should wear my hair, foods I should eat, books I should read, songs I should learn to play on the piano. One day Dr Ross walked into my office and put down a piece of sheet music.

"I want you to learn this," He announced.

I looked down at the music lying on my desk. The cover had "Fur Elise" written in big black bold letters across the top.

'Beethoven' I thought to myself. I looked up; he was gone, just like that. He made no further mention of the music that day or evening. Actually I don't remember putting it in my bag, but it did make its way to my apartment- where it sat.

It was a rainy Sunday and a welcome day off when I next picked up that sheet music. As I picked it up, I remember the now familiar feeling. I was going to learn it because he asked me too. I wouldn't mention it to him, even after I felt I was proficient. He would ask when he wanted to. As I struggled through the most difficult piece I had ever attempted, it dawned on me that this was not the first time I had submitted to one of his requests. I had changed my hair, my dress, my diet, my exercise program, all of it.

'When did this all happen" I wondered through tears of frustration. Was I happy or angry? No, it was something else. It all Started with Fur Elise.

................

"Excuse me folks, if I could have your attention for a moment." Dr Ross had suddenly gotten up from our table in the hotel lounge and walked over to the microphone by the baby grand piano. Most of the twenty or so people in the room, like us, had arrived here in Atlanta for a Bio Medical Convention. Dr Ross would be speaking, but whether or not he was known by anyone in the room, I wasn't sure.

"Excuse me," he continued. "Geena May would like to play something for you this evening."

I was mortified as people began to look around the room to see who the gentleman was referring to.

"Geena!" He said, looking now directly at me.

I was frozen to my seat. I had looked forward to this trip for some time: A chance to showcase a lot of hard work. I enjoyed the scrutiny of peer review- a much easier task with a leading PM&R Physician and research scientist. We had grown close, professionally at least, and I was beginning to overcome my initial uneasiness around him. I knew he liked me, if only as a mentor and friend- a very controlling friend.

"Geena!"

The silence of my thoughts was broken by his booming voice over the microphone. Without thinking, I got up and began to make my way to the piano amid the clapping of a handful of guests. I starred at him, trying not to let my face betray my thoughts. He just motioned to the piano with his free hand.

I looked over at the piano, and at the sheet music. "Fur Elise'," of course. It had been many months since he had given me that music, with the simple "command"; I want you to learn this. Never again had he mentioned it. He had just assumed that I would learn it. He was right. It was clearly the most difficult piece I had mastered...well maybe not mastered.

I looked over at Dr Ross. There was an uncanny confidence in him as he stood there. He new I would learn it. He knew I would be able to "perform" for him. This had been planned for some time. I looked back at the piano: A Baldwin, Ellington series.

I played.

If this was a game, it certainly was one I had not participated in before. Most of my submissive experience had involved some kind of punishment, later sex and often humiliation. This was none of the above. It was a very different submission- deeper some how.

If Dr Ross had wanted me for his sexual plaything, he never showed it. Was I disappointed? I wasn't sure. He could have his way with me on this trip, of this I am certain. Maybe that's not what he wants.

I continued to play.

Ludwig Von Beethoven would not have been very proud, but carefully, I made my way through. Now what? I sat and looked over at Dr Ross, clapping as I suddenly realized many in the room were also clapping. I slowly got up and followed Dr. Ross back to our table.

"You did very well Geena, I am proud of you"

I nodded slightly, "Thank-you."

I reached for my glass, mainly to avoid looking directly at him. He was doing it again, looking into my soul.

"It's time for you to go to bed Geena. I'll walk you to your room,"

On the way up to my room I prepared myself to be taken by him. But, it did not happen that way. He followed me inside and pointed to the bed. A dress, new apparently, was lying on the bed.

"Your clothes for tomorrow" he said very matter of factly. I will be by at 6:30 to bring you to breakfast.

A mild "yes Doctor" was all I could manage.

He handed me a book. "Your reading for tonight," he said.

He kissed me on the cheek and left the room. I looked at the cover of the book he had just handed me.

"The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty," by Anne Rice

What clue Steven Ross had seen in my behavior I didn't know. No one else who knew me professionally, knew this side of me, I was sure of that. I had a new start at this hospital and I intended to keep my personal life separate. How had he seen it so clearly? How had he managed to quietly manipulate me over these last six months?

As I finished my reading, I closed my book, set it down on my lap and stared at the cover once again: The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, by Anne Rice. I looked over at the clock radio and squinted to read the time- 2:43 a.m. 'Could that be right? Had I stayed up nearly all night to finish this book?

Why had he given me this book to me in the first place? Is this what he wanted from me? That would be curious because he hadn't really flirted with me, nor shown much interest in me sexually. Oh, he would ask personal questions or make very personal observations from time to time, but never in a flirting type of way. Rather, it was more like he had a right to know, very matter of fact.

But this book was very erotic, almost over the edge for me. The BDSM overtones were less surprising and more in keeping with where I thought we were headed. The sexual side left me extremely aroused, and a little guilty. I could be bad inside, I knew that. I wondered if he suspected so himself.

I reached down to my pleasure and gently caressed.

What did he want?

It mattered, because I was no longer sure what limits I had: I liked pleasing him.

I gently caressed myself thinking about the look on his face when I had finished "performing" last night. I had pleased him and he was truly happy.

How many times over these several months had I done the same thing: Dutifully fulfilling a 'request' he had no right to make? A simple 'suggestion' that I should wear my hair much shorter and a few weeks later I would find myself perusing magazines to find my new look. I had shoulder length hair when I first met him- always had. I was happy with it that way. Now, everyone liked the new look and that made it worse.

I closed my eyes and arched my head back toward the bed board. One arm out stretched, my hand on the back of my neck, the other probing and caressing.

I was conflicted. I just wasn't sure how I felt about him really. I liked being the 'colleague' to such an intelligent person. He had built me up, sharing credit and praising my accomplishments. I was well respected as a result- and I enjoyed that. It was only in private, when he would do these things that made me feel like a child. Part of me took pleasure in the thought of it, and part of me felt shame.

I was losing it now, growing tired....and confused.

I drifted off to sleep.

....

The alarm went off moments later or so it seemed. Had I even set the alarm? I couldn't remember.

5:45 AM.

He would be here in 45 minutes!

I quickly ran to the bathroom to pee.

Fortunately I was pretty organized and had laid things out the night before. I hurriedly jumped in the shower, washed my hair, my body, shaved, and then just stood there enjoying the hot water pouring over my back: Re-living the night. I wished I had more time to enjoy, but I knew he would be here on time.

'What time is it?' I wondered as I scrambled to throw some make up on and dry my hair. I slipped on my nylons, bra and bathrobe before checking the time.

6:22 AM

"It can't be!" I thought. I opted to straighten up the room rather than get dressed. Was this a wise decision? 'Probably not', I thought.

6:28 AM

I looked at the dress. 'Very pretty', I thought, but not the most appropriate thing for today. What was he thinking anyway? I had brought a business suit- that was more appropriate. Certainly he would understand that. I was not some bimbo he brought along to wear on his arm; I was his associate, his collaborator. Surely he would appreciate that.

I unlocked the door, grabbed the business suit from my closet and went into the bathroom to put it on. Seconds later three loud knocks broke my concentration.

"Geena!"

It was Dr. Ross.

"Come on in Dr Ross, I'll be ready in a second," I shouted, confident, ready to go.

I heard the door open as I buttoned my blouse.

"I'll just be two seconds, sorry I'm running late." My confidence was building. Perhaps I had read too much into the evening. I might regret it, but I chose my course.

I finished primping my hair and opened the bathroom door. He was standing in the corner with the dress in his hand.

"I'm sorry, I really like it Dr. Ross," I offered. "But I didn't think it was very appropriate for today. Maybe I can wear it tonight."

"Geena," he said softly. "I asked you to wear this dress"

"I'm sorry, I just didn't think__" I started.

Dr. Ross laid the dress on the bed, walked over and closed the bathroom door, then took a seat on the stuffed chair by the small table.

"Enough nonsense Geena, I want you to take off that suit, and hang it up in the closet."

In that moment I felt a stronger shame than I had felt in a long time. I was a professional, on a business trip with a colleague, and ready to make a presentation with him. He had always treated me as a professional even as he had slowly manipulated me to do the things he wanted me to do. It was manipulation wasn't it? Or did I choose to obey him. I had lost track.

'This moment I could draw the line', I thought, even as I took off my jacket and hung it up in the closet. It was as though I were watching someone else, I wasn't in control. I turned toward the bed to grab the dress, but he stopped me short.

"Geena, we don't have time for this modesty, now take off the suit and hang it up in the closet," He instructed.

I tried to stare him down, but he didn't blink. I did. I turned away from him and unbuttoned my blouse, took it off and hung it up beside my jacket.

I couldn't face him. I just reached down and took off my shoes one at a time and neatly placed them in the floor of the closet.

'Undressing was awkward I thought', as I modestly sucked in my belly while bending down. I reached in back and unsnapped my skirt and pulled the zipper down. I slid it down and out of one leg at a time. My skirt hanger wasn't in the closet, so I just awkwardly draped it over a hanger.

In bra and nylons, I turned around to face Dr Ross. I stared at him once again eye to eye as if to say: 'OK, you happy now, you get to see Nurse Sorrell half naked'.

Of course I said nothing, hoping I could slip on the dress and be done with it.

After a moment of silence, I turned to the bed and reached for the dress. It wasn't there. I gazed around the room to see where he had moved the dress to.

"Not yet Geena," He said quietly "There is still the matter of your being late."

I turned to look at him. He was expressionless. The silence was deafening. The seconds ticked by very slowly. I knew what was next because I had been here before, and I was defenseless to stop it. I was two people: One a proud professional, ready to put a stop to this nonsense before it got out of hand; the other, Sleeping Beauty, wanting to succumb to the humiliation of surrender.

Sleeping Beauty won.

I slowly turned away, back toward the bed. 'What if I was reading him wrong', I thought. How humiliating that would be. But would it be worse than what I was preparing to do now? I approached the bed. 'Not much chance to back out now', I thought.

I bent over the bed forearms and face on the mattress, and waited. It seemed an eternity. 'Even if I was wrong, how could I get up now and walk away?" So, I waited.

I didn't hear him get up from his chair, but suddenly I felt his hands on each side of my hips, pulling my nylons down to my ankles. I was glad to have my face hidden from his at this moment.

I felt the cool chill of my exposure.

I inherited very large hips and I deeply regretted that my ass was uncovered to this man in this way. I didn't look up, but I felt him staring at me none the less.

He placed his hand on my right cheek and held it there momentarily. When I felt his hand move away, I braced for the first hard slap to my backside. I didn't have to wait long. His hand came back and struck a stinging blow.

I instantly regretted my decision. Not because of the pain, but because I knew I was taken. I was His, and I had forever surrendered myself to him. We would never be on equal footing as colleagues, if we ever were.

He struck a second time on the same cheek, and I was reminded of the level of pain being inflicted upon me. Suddenly I wished I had grabbed a pillow to put under my face. Instead I wrapped my arms around the top of my head. It gave me some level of privacy from my face- I couldn't look at him.

Again he struck, and this time I whimpered a bit at the much sharper blow. He could seriously hurt me, but somehow I doubted he would.

Again and again he punished my right cheek, before he mercifully switched sides. Then he continued until I thought I would have to ask him to stop. I was crying now and it took a moment to realize he had stopped.

I didn't want to stand up, but I knew I had no choice.

"Geena, it is time for you to get dressed." He instructed.

He apparently took his seat behind me, observing his handiwork.

I stood up and reached down to my ankles to pull up my panties. I tried to stretch them out beyond my ass in order to avoid the pain of nylon scraping across my throbbing behind. I was not very successful and flinched as I rode them up and in place. In silence I walked over and got dressed.

Instinctively I turned around as if standing for inspection.

"Thank you," I whispered, though immediately I was repulsed by how far I had fallen.

He wiped the tears still on my cheek, then stood back and gazed back at me.

He simply stated, "You look very nice, Geena."

But I heard, "Beauty."