With Grace - A Tale of Submission Vol. 01

As she smiled at him, she observed a subtle streak of sadness appear in her consciousness, or perhaps, she wondered, if it was a sense of nostalgia, a longing for the times, before they began trying to have kids, when their lives, their shared life, seemed so much more carefree, so much more about their senses, about what felt and tasted and smelled good, about their shared gifts for sensuousness and sexual exploration.

The shared gift had become apparent the first night they met, the night they drank deeply from the fruit of the little African girl and noticed the awakening of previously unknown desires. Yes, they were familiar with the experience of bringing pleasure to a lover, but watching a partner bring pleasure to a lover was something entirely new.

Watching Karen with the girl was a feast for the senses. At times, Marcus sensed Karen exude an almost maternal pride as she tenderly but firmly coaxed the girl through new terrains of pleasure. At other moments, Marcus felt like a lion watching his lioness devour her pray, fucking the girl mercilessly as wave after wave of orgasm shimmered across her onyx skin. Those shared experiences, with the African girl as well as a small handful of other lovers, had been such a powerful point of bonding for Marcus and Karen. But those experiences came to an end as Marcus and Karen devoted themselves to trying to have kids, when sensual delights gave way to doctors visits, fertility apps, and the dark cloud of disappointments that came from their unrealized dreams of a child of their own.

Fortunately, Karen thought to herself, their difficulties had only brought she and Marcus closer together, had only deepened their connection, made it more sacred.

Warmed by that thought, Karen reached out her hand to him, and they ventured forth into the night.

Chapter 5.....dipping her toe in the water...

This Friday night was just like the others since Grace had arrived in the United States, but it felt worse. Maybe it was the cumulative effect of her roommates' loud music, or the three weeks of feeling like a stranger in her own home. Maybe it was the fact that only one week remained in her commitment to this four-bedroom place. Whatever the case, she knew she needed to go somewhere, at least for a few hours. Trying to block out the music, she spent a moment scrolling through some websites describing the endless stream of local events of every conceivable type. None of them ever seemed appealing to her though, and anyway, the thought of going places alone, especially in this frenetic new city, terrified her.

But as the music from the living room reached new, horrific heights, Grace realized that anything would be better than remaining in her room. She saw a Japanese language meetup happening nearby, and made an impulsive decision to go. She'd developed something of a lifelong fascination with the country, and perhaps, she thought to herself, she could meet other people who shared a similar interest.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her coat, scurried past the people hanging out in her living room, and exited into the foggy San Francisco night.

...

Grace's first thought, upon entering the dingy dive bar was that she must be in the wrong place. Scanning the room, not one person was there, save for the bartender and a guy seated at the bar who looked like he'd just come from a day of construction.

Embarrassed, her face flushed, she approached the bar and asked the bartender if this was the place for the Japanese language meetup. He looked at her, a look of bemusement and exasperation on his face, and told her that, yeah, but she was an hour early. As had become her pattern in this foreign land, she quickly averted her eyes, which she could feel filling with tears. She held herself together long enough to order a drink then slink over a booth in the corner. Despite the mistake of her early arrival, she knew that returning home was not an option. The thought of that clanging music made her feel nauseous. So she waited, devoting her full attention to her phone so she feel less self-conscious about sitting alone in a bar on a Friday evening.

She didn't know how long she'd been waiting when she first heard the woman's voice.

"Hi, dear. Are you here for the Japananese language meeting?"

Startled, Grace looked up from her phone and saw a tall, striking older couple standing in front of her booth.

"Ummm, uhhh, yeah, but it doesn't start for another hour or so. I misread the event listing and got here way too early." As usually happened in social situations, Grace could feel her cheeks becoming flushed and a sense of anxiousness creeping up on her.

"Oh sweetie, don't worry. My husband and I made the same mistake. But now, here we are. May we join you?"

"Yeah, ummm, sure, that's ok." Grace stammered, her awareness of the redness in her cheeks only serving to further embarrass her. Adding to those feelings was the sheer enormity of the couple's presence. It wasn't just their stature, but the aura they both seemed to exude, one of quiet confidence, calmness, and kindness.

To Grace's surprise, the couple slid into opposite sides of the booth so that the guy was on her left side and the woman was on her right.

"Shhh, sweetie, it's okay. You don't have to be so nervous. We don't bite," the woman cooed to her. "I'm Karen. This is my husband, Marcus. What's your name?"

As was Grace's habit, she brought her eyes up only for a moment, intending to bring them quickly back to the safety of her hands, which by now were clutching her phone tightly.

But when Grace's eyes met Karen's, the most peculiar feeling came over her. Even years later, when she was reflecting on this chapter in her life, she struggled to articulate what had transpired, what exactly had felt transmitted to her in that moment. Part of it, most certainly, was a rippling warmth that seemed to flow through her body, but it didn't just heat her from within, though to be sure, it did that, too.

No, there was something else about it, a feeling that it had a sort of intelligence to it, like it was lovingly examining the depths of her being, her thoughts, her fears, the parts of her that she'd tried to shroud in shame. The warmth seemed to pour forth from Karen's eyes into Grace, and the longer Karen held Grace's gaze, the more the tendrils seemed to entwine themselves around her. There was so much love, Grace thought to herself, that radiated from the woman's eyes, but it was a particular type of love, one that she had trouble putting her finger on, in part because there was still so much of Grace's instinct that was struggling to pry herself free, to retreat back into her self-created world of nervousness and solitude.

There was a maternal quality Grace was feeling, but that's not precise enough. Grace's own associations with a maternal feeling were complex and paradoxical given her history - she longed for maternal love, and yet, the fleeting trace of it that she'd experience before her parents' abandonment filled her with a mix of anxiety and revulsion. This woman's maternal quality had a rock-solid quality to it, a love mixed with firmness, a sense of being held (perhaps even restrained? She wondered), as if in a cocoon.

"Ummm, I'm Grace," she stammered, finally pulling her eyes away.

Karen brought the very edges of her lips ever so slightly upward, allowing them to form into an amused, loving grin.

Grace knew her eyes must be playing tricks on her. As she quickly glanced back up at Karen, the older woman's eyes seemed to twinkle, lit from within by what seemed to Grace like a sense of perfect knowledge of all that had occurred and was occurring inside of Grace. This, despite Grace's best efforts to desperately pull a sort of mental curtain around herself, shielding her innermost world from this new, probing light.

Marcus looked on, smiling inwardly as his wife appeared to be casting a sort of enchantment over the small, shy Chinese girl. He could sense the girl's nervousness, almost her panic, at having this older, more confident woman holding her eyes with a transfixing gaze. He felt the knot in Grace's chest form, tighten, constrict further, then slowly, almost imperceptibly, maybe even to her, begin to loosen.

"Grace. Such a sweet, fitting name for you." Karen's eyes seemed to hold Grace's, like velvet straps around her wrists. "This is my husband, Marcus."

With that, Karen released Grace from her spell, but as she did, she seemed to hand the reins she'd secured around Grace's mind to her husband. Obediently, as though there was no choice, Grace turned her head in the direction of the other towering figure sitting at the booth with her.

As of this night, Marcus had been a psychologist for almost 20 years. In many ways, he felt he'd always been a psychologist, long before completing the rigorous seven-year PhD program. He was always the person to whom friends, family, strangers, felt so comfortable opening their hearts, allowing themselves to be seen. Serving in that role, he'd always believed, was the deepest honor, to enter another's darkest spaces and remain there with them, breathing, listening, reflecting.

And not just that, he loved that role. The joy was akin to a sprinter sprinting, that sense of fittingness, of engagement in that pursuit perfectly suited for his innate abilities. He perceived in each person a unique internal universe, in which each galaxy, star, and planet adhered to its own emotional laws of physics. Some people erected barriers between themselves and their world within; others dwelt in that world but bolted the door behind them. For Marcus, the infinite permutations of the human psyche were a source of endless fascination, and as he walked with others through the jungles of their minds, he felt, he often thought to himself, as the earliest explorers must have plunging into nature's most exotic depths.

Marcus' first thought when his eyes met Grace's was just how innocent she seemed. She looked at him with the same openness, the same trust that he'd always imagined a daughter might. That she would give a total stranger this look suggested to Marcus that her connections with her own parents were minimal at best, and that she hadn't yet found other adults in her life to play that vital, nurturing role. Marcus recognized that Grace had been caught off guard by the intensity of his wife's gaze, and now, she turned to him with an almost pleading quality, as though she were coming in from a storm and wanted nothing more than to be held. He allowed his eyes to radiate a soft, loving warmth when he began to shake Grace's hand.

As his hand took hold of hers, she looked down and immediately became aware that her hand had disappeared entirely in his. She thought to herself that she had quite possibly never seen a hand as large as his in his entire life. And yet, his grip was surprisingly gentle, and rather than feeling a sense of fear at the sight of her hand swallowed up by his, she felt a sense of calmness and peace. So much so, in fact, that a part of her felt a twinge of disappointment when he released her.

Marcus and Karen were skilled conversationalists, and they devoted themselves to setting Grace at ease. They talked about why they'd decided to come to the meet-up that night, then more generally about their life in San Francisco. They'd ask Grace an occasional question, but none that were too probing or personal. Karen did most of the talking, which gave Marcus an opportunity to observe the young girl as she spoke to his wife.

Her shyness was still there, of course, but the paralyzing nervousness had seemed to ebb. Marcus also witnessed his wife's behavior. Gone was the veil of looming depression that had started to envelop her before they'd left the house. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Karen was attracted to Grace. Grace's diminutive size, her innocence, her milky white skin--these were exactly the qualities that Karen preferred in a lover. Or at least, they were the qualities that Karen had preferred years earlier when the two of them had occasionally shared a lover. But more than attraction, or rather, intermixed with it was the most touching tenderness Karen was exhibiting. There was even, Marcus thought to himself, an almost maternal quality in Karen's behavior.

After awhile, Karen began to ask Grace questions. Gently and lovingly, Karen managed to coax out of Grace little droplets of information, about life in her village, her education, and her once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to come work in San Francisco. Grace could hear herself speaking, could hear the words coming out of her mouth, and she did, she wondered to herself if she'd shared more of her life in this conversation than in any one she'd previously had. She was shocked by just how comfortable she felt, how each sentence she uttered was met only with the deepest understanding from Karen and Marcus. They were so different from other Americans she'd met, indeed, from anyone else she'd ever met. No one had ever seemed to focus on her, to give her all of their attention, to truly care in her thoughts and feelings. As the evening drew on, Grace could feel her comfort level increasing and she began to share more and more with Marcus and Karen.

Eventually, Karen began to inquire about Grace's living situation. Grace felt a surge of sadness well up inside of her when her thoughts turned to the inevitable cacophony she'd have to return home to when this conversation ended. She began to weep uncontrollably as she recounted the endless parties her roommates threw, the feelings of exclusion and derision she constantly felt whenever she was around them, and the resulting sense of isolation she felt, trapped alone in her room.

Without even pausing, Karen took Grace into her arms and held her close. If Grace had been told when the evening began that she'd be sobbing in the arms of a stranger, she would have recoiled in horror. And yet, as she felt Karen's arms around her, Grace felt a sense of deep comfort and relaxation, like the act of expressing her emotions to Karen had somehow caused them to lose their intensity, their weight.

For Karen's part, she held Grace as she would as small child, gently stroking her hair and her back and whispering softly that everything would be fine. After several minutes, Grace looked up at Karen through watery eyes, immediately feeling a burning sense of shame at the vulnerability she'd just shown.

"Shhh, sweetie, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Karen murmured softly, taking Grace's hands in hers and gently stroking them. "You're going through an incredibly difficult time. Talking about what you're feeling is healthy."

"Thank you," Grace whimpered, quickly glancing up at Karen before looking down again, still thoroughly embarrassed by what had transpired, yet still repulsed at the thought of her roommates' behavior. "And anyway, the stuff that happens after the parties is even worse," Grace blurted out. She immediately regretted what she said, because she knew the question that would inevitably follow.

"What happens after, dear?"

"Oh, nevermind. It's just gross." Grace could feel a well of panic opening up inside of her as the prospect of having to discuss those sounds with anyone, least of all strangers, was too awful to bear.

"Grace, we can't help you process what you've been experiencing unless you share it with us. I assure you it's nothing Marcus and I haven't heard already."

"Ugh. Just like weird noises. It's fine. I just put my pillow over my ear and I can go to sleep eventually," Grace said, the sense of panic deepening as she realized that Karen wasn't going to let this go.

"Sweetie, shhhh, it's okay," Karen whispered, as she placed her hand on Grace's.

For reasons Grace couldn't quite understand, she didn't pull away as she felt Karen's skin make contact with her, nor did she recoil at the sound of Karen calling her the sort of name that a parent would typically use to refer to a young, helpless child. If anything, Grace felt soothed, comforted by Karen's choice of words.

"I mean, ummm, I think they're just having sex, but they're just so loud, and it goes on and on and on." Grace's embarrassment had reached a peak, but she knew there was nothing she could do about it at this point. She was trapped between Marcus and Karen in the booth, and asking one of them to get up so she could go to the bathroom would be even more humiliating. Worse still, she began to notice a strange feeling between her legs. It was as though a flower had started to bloom there, spreading petals of warmth throughout her body. Once this blossoming attracted the attention of her conscious mind, she had trouble wrenching her consciousness away from it.

"Oh my dear, those sort of noises are perfectly normal," Karen stated in the calmest, most matter-of-fact tone. "And when a couple is having passionate sex, it should last for awhile. Don't you agree?"

Karen could sense how uncomfortable this topic was for Grace, but she was enjoying just how adorable Grace looked in this heightened state of nervousness. Even more than that, Karen saw this part of the conversation as an opportunity to probe Grace for some insight as to her level of sexual experience. Her reactions so far, Karen was certain, betrayed, at a minimum, a lack of significant experience.

Karen even found herself wondering whether this sweet, innocent girl had been deflowered. Karen watched closely how each of her words affected Grace, and as the redness in Grace's cheeks deepened with each passing moment, Karen was nearly certain that the girl had never had a lover. Still, perhaps it was sheer enjoyment, perhaps it was cruelty, but Karen let the question hang in the air longer still, smiling inwardly as Grace as squirmed in her seat.

Before Karen continued, she glanced over at Marcus. Their eyes made contact for the briefest of moments. But that was all Karen needed to learn from Marcus that he too had extracted from Grace the same precious bit of insight.

"Sweetie," Karen said after what seemed to Grace like an eternity, "Why don't we discuss your plan for how you're going to find another place to live?" As Karen spoke these words, Grace noticed a twinkle in Karen's eye, as though Karen had come into possession of the most intimate piece of knowledge about Grace but was refusing to share it. As Karen's eyes met Grace's, rivers of communication flowed between them, Grace unable to conceal anything from Karen, and Karen lovingly, tenderly taking possession of these sweetest of pearls.

All Grace could manage were the words, "Thank you, Karen."

Smiling warmly, Karen continued. "We can all agree that your current living situation cannot continue. It's simply not acceptable for you to feel like an outsider in your own home. Perhaps even more problematically, finding an apartment in this wildly expensive and overcrowded city could take weeks or longer, and even then, what you find may be no better, and could even be worse than where you're living now."

Grace knew Karen was right. Feelings of hopelessness rose up inside of her, and for the first time since arriving in San Francisco, she felt that this grand experiment of hers might not actually work out.

Grace's face must have revealed the gloom within. Karen took hold of her hand, and looked deeply in her eyes again. "But there is a perfect solution to this little dilemma of yours."

"There is?" Grace blurted out.

Karen met Marcus' eyes for a moment, and his eyes smiled at her.

"Yes, dear. You'll move in with me and Marcus."

"But, but, you barely even..." Grace was incredulous.

"Sweetie, shhhhhh." Karen cooed to her. Marcus loved the effect that his wife's gentle shushing had on Grace. It not only had the effect of silencing the poor, nervous girl, but it also seemed to relax her, to put her at ease and allow her to digest more easily the words that would follow.