The Owned Girl

by Dominic Ridler

  'Even if what pleases me is to hurt you? And it does please me. I'm doing this because I can; you know that, don't you?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'And you know that I am the one who decides when it stops, not you.'

  'Yes, sir.' She wasn't going to dispute a single word, not till the clamps came off. But Matthew was enjoying dragging it out. He gave the clamps another little twist. Beth squealed. The poor girl was perspiring now, but at the same time I could see her cunt was oozing.

  'And I decide to stop when I think it's good for you, not when you want me to but when I think you've had enough. Right?'

  'Yes, sir. Oh, please?' she pleaded.

  'Please what?'

  'Can they come off soon? Sir?'

  'Not yet,' he said. He got to his feet. 'I feel like a drink,' he said. 'Anyone else?'

  He went into the kitchen and I followed. He opened a bottle of wine, deliberately taking his time as he poured us each a glass. I thought of poor Beth, still lying there, trussed up like a chicken, unable to move an inch, with what must feel like red-hot needles piercing her nipples. Matthew went back into the bedroom and I followed. Beth looked at him imploringly. Matthew sat next to her and sipped his wine.

  'Do you think this is giving you a profound insight into the nature of our relationship, Beth?' he asked, as if embarking on a philosophical discussion.

  'Yes, sir,' she said. She'd accept anything right now. He could have told her the world was flat and she'd have agreed with alacrity.

  'Now, Beth,' he said, after slowly sipping his wine, 'if I do take those clamps off it's going to hurt a lot. Those little teeth have sunk so deep into your skin that they have stuck there, and when I take them away it will be agony.'

  Beth swallowed hard. I really was beginning to feel sorry for her now.

  'So perhaps I'd better leave them on,' said Matthew. He wiped a bead of perspiration from her brow.

  'No, please,' she said quickly. 'I'll be brave.'

  Matthew took another sip of his wine. 'Hmmm,' he said. 'I'm not sure. What do you think, Annabel?'

  He knew I'd say to take them off. Clearly he had decided it was time.

  'I think perhaps she's learned the lesson you wanted to teach her,' I said.

  'Very well,' he said. He put down his glass and reached out for the clamps, removing them in a swift, efficient movement. Even so, Beth screamed with pain, and then began to sob.

  'Poor girl,' said Matthew. 'Are your nipples dreadfully sore? Annabel will kiss them better for you.'

  I bent over her and suckled each of her nipples in turn. They felt almost hot to the touch as the blood rushed in. Beth ceased sobbing. I wiped her tears away. 'You're a good girl,' I said.

  Not long after she became owned, Beth started to write a blog. She said that what was happening to her was so momentous that she needed to write about it, so she could understand it and absorb it all. Looking back, I can see that there was a further motivation. Beth wanted people to know about her, she wanted to get their attention. I saw how eagerly she looked for comments once the blog was begun, how pleased she was when readers praised her insights and her turns of phrase.

  She liked to write, I knew that, and she felt she did it well. Of course it was written anonymously, under the name of Nefertiti. I don't know why she chose that; I think she just liked the sound of it. She knew that Matthew and I would read it. I think anyone who writes a blog under a pseudonym imagines that this will liberate them to write freely and fearlessly. But they soon find that if the blog is read by anyone who knows them, they can't actually write exactly what they please. Their friends or lovers who are reading have feelings, things they are sensitive about, and the blogger has to take account of that. So I am sure that although Beth's blog contained her private thoughts, it was written very much in the knowledge that her owners would read it. In a sense it was for our consumption. I think from time to time she said things on the blog she wanted us to know but didn't feel able to discuss with us directly.

  The blog soon found a readership. Not only was it literate and intelligent, it was sexually arousing to those of a kinky disposition. People liked to read about Beth's training, about her occasional punishments, her difficulties sometimes in accepting her role of an owned girl. Blogs written by submissive girls were becoming common, but Beth's blog was a bit different, since she was submissive not simply to a single Dom but to a married couple. That gave it an extra frisson.

  Eventually, this blog was discontinued (although subsequently Beth started another one, after she left us). I regret that I did not save the text. It would certainly be helpful to me in constructing this memoir if I could read once again what Beth thought about things at the time. But I will try to give the flavour of it by attempting to reproduce an entry or two. One day, I remember, she wrote something that went like this:

  "My owner texted me today, saying that I still have some resistance, and that this needs to be addressed. [She never used our names; Matthew was 'my owner' and I was 'my lady owner'.] When I read this I was distressed. Why did he not tell me this last night, when I visited with them? Why could he not explain to my face what the problem was? Then perhaps I could have understood, and maybe I would have had some things to say in my defence. But a text is a curt kind of communication, and there's no real chance for me to respond.

  "What is the problem? I have done my best. I freely accept their ownership of me. I obey their commands. They use me as they please, and I always try to be happy around them. But still it seems they are not satisfied. I have been searching my mind to try to think why. What am I doing, or not doing, that they interpret as resistance?

  "I think, after intense self-examination, I may have the answer. When we were all out together yesterday, there was a boy I saw in the coffee shop. He was very cute looking, floppy brown hair that drooped over his dark brown eyes. He looked like a gorgeous puppy dog. I wanted to pet him and take him home. My owner caught me looking at him. He didn't say anything but perhaps he was annoyed. Ever since I broke up with Brian I am forbidden to date boys. My owner says I need to have my sexuality reformatted (he likes to use jargon like this). This sounds like a long, arduous process, and I confess I am concerned. Right now I wish to be owned; but not for ever. Eventually I want to have a normal life, like any girl, with a boy of my own. That is a natural instinct after all, and I can't curb my natural instincts just because my owner says I must.

  "Is that resistance? Perhaps. Maybe it would be easier if I was given some sort of schedule. How long is this to go on? When can I expect to date again? A month? Six months? A year? I don't feel I'm being consulted about this, although I am told it is in my own best interests.

  "I have resolved to have a little discussion. I'm not a whiny girl; I'm sweetnatured and co-operative. But I'm passionate too. Of course I love my owner and my lady-owner too. But I don't think they always see how hard it is for me to obey. Give me some credit, I sometimes want to say. But I have to be careful. My owner is very strict on me if he thinks I am less than accepting. I got a hard spanking last week for being bratty. The marks are still there. I don't want another one just yet."

  I've tried to catch the mixture of querulousness and narcissism, combined with teasing glimpses of kinkiness and genuine psychological insights, which was so distinctive. Clearly, in writing like this Beth was sending us messages. Sometimes Matthew would simply ignore them. He told me it was good for Beth to have somewhere to sound off, but he wasn't going to take notice of every whinge and moan. She had to learn to knuckle under, as he put it. A lot of what she wrote did read like special pleading on her own behalf. I don't remember that she ever admitted any faults. I don't mean to imply it was all complaints. Some of it was entertaining and incisive, but it did often read as though she was rather put-upon.

  As regards to this particular complaint about dating, we did indeed discuss it with her, and Matthew made the point that she had not done very well with boys left to her own devices. He added that he an
d I had more experience of love and romance than she did, and could perhaps take a more objective view of what was best for her. Matthew assured her that we had no desire to suppress her natural instincts, but merely wished to make her better equipped to express them when we judged the time had come. She seemed to accept this, more or less. However, more or less was never good enough for Matthew. He would always push things with Beth, to the point when eventually she had to capitulate completely. Total and unconditional surrender was what he required. In this case, it was only after Matthew had given her a rather severe spanking that she accepted that we would be the ones to determine when dating was allowed once more. Even though physical discipline was the last resort for imposing his will on her, it was employed often, though not always as severely as on this occasion, when the spanking she feared in her blog was indeed administered, while the bruises from the previous one were still visible. Beth was literally beaten into surrender. This may seem cruel, but when it was over she wept (you have to believe me) tears of gratitude for being shown the error of her ways. And then when we took her to bed, her sweet little pink cunt was dripping from the perverse pleasure of the pain she had endured.

  Chapter Four

  It was her blog that brought about the first introduction of a fourth party into our little world (not counting Brian, of course). One of Beth's readers was a girl who lived in San Francisco. She too was submissive, and we gathered she had some kind of relationship with a man, which did not however prevent her from engaging with other like-minded folk. Soon she and Beth were firm friends, exchanging emails regularly and comparing experiences. This girl, I'll call her Miranda, had a little more experience than Beth of dominant men, though not much. She told Beth she liked dressing up as a little girl, liked to be spanked and tied up.

  Beth told us about Miranda and what a great girl she was, and Matthew suggested that Beth invite her to New York. Matthew said that if she couldn't afford a hotel that we could put her up for a day or two in our apartment. It was agreed that Miranda would come to stay for a weekend in two weeks time.

  I don't think there was any clear agenda, but given that Miranda knew all about our relationship with Beth, and given that Miranda was inclined towards submissiveness too, it seemed possible that there might be a certain amount of play. But there was no discussion with Beth prior to the visit. Miranda, after all, wasn't coming to see us, but to see Beth; we were offering her hospitality solely as a favour to our owned girl.

  Miranda turned out to be a bouncy, bubbly girl about Beth's age, on the same wavelength sexually but very different physically. Whereas Beth is tall and slender and blonde, Miranda proved to be short and dark and curvy. Beth brought her round on the Friday evening, not long after she had arrived from San Francisco. We all had some drinks and Miranda soon got us laughing. She was a smart girl, very articulate. We went out to dinner and had a few more drinks. It was apparent that Beth and Miranda were attracted to each other, not just as kindred souls but as two highly sexual young girls in a hothouse atmosphere where, in theory, anything was possible.

  Beth, however, had to get back that evening for some family function, so Matthew and I took Miranda home with us. We sat and talked for ages. Miranda had what seemed to us a curious history. She was married to a man who was totally vanilla. Intellectually he understood her need to be spanked, but he had no interest in it for himself. She told us how she had tried to convert him, but that it was hopeless. This didn't surprise me; it's my firm belief that you cannot put kink into a man if it's not there in the first place. You can bring out what's latent, even things he doesn't know are there. But if he's not wired to dominate in the bedroom it's useless to try to turn him.

  Miranda had reluctantly come to the same conclusion. So what was to be done? She didn't want to leave her husband, whom she loved very much, nor did she want to deny herself the right to sexual fulfilment. After a lot of lengthy discussions they both agreed that on an occasional basis she be allowed to seek out other men to satisfy her need for submission. So far she had done this with only a couple of men with mixed results. But it was clearly important to her that her husband was still willing to allow her to engage with other people. Such tolerance and understanding are very rare, in my experience.

  Miranda was tired after her plane trip and so she went to bed. The next day the four of us went out, doing a little shopping, walking in the park, having lunch. Matthew and I went to a movie together while the two girls went off on their own. We met back at our flat, where I cooked dinner for us all. After dinner we went into the sitting room. Beth knelt at Matthew's feet while he stroked her hair and the back of her neck. Miranda sat on the sofa with me.

  'Do you think Beth is pretty?' Matthew asked Miranda.

  'She's gorgeous,' Miranda said.

  'Why don't you come over here?' Matthew said.

  Miranda got up and went over to his chair. He made her sit on the floor right next to Beth.

  'Have you seen her body?' Matthew asked.

  'She showed me a picture once, where she was wearing only her knickers.'

  'Did you like that?'

  'Yes, she has great tits.'

  'Would you like to see them again?'

  'Yes,' said Miranda quietly.

  'Take her top off,' Matthew said.

  Miranda pulled Beth's t-shirt over her head.

  'Now the bra,' Matthew said.

  Miranda stared at Beth's bare breasts.

  'Touch them,' said Matthew.

  Miranda put out a hand and stroked Beth's right breast, then pinched the nipple slightly. The two girls were looking into each other's eyes. Matthew watched them intently. After a while he invited Miranda to climb up onto his lap. She did so, putting her arms around his neck.

  'Do you think Beth will be jealous if you kiss me?' Matthew said to her.

  ''I don't know,' said Miranda. 'But I'd like to.'

  'Do it,' Matthew said.

  Miranda kissed him firmly on the mouth. It crossed my mind that no one had asked me if I minded, but in fact I didn't. It was clear that whatever might go on between Matthew and Miranda would be largely for Beth's benefit. He wanted to see how she would react.

  The kiss went on quite a long time. I watched Beth to see her response. I couldn't tell much from her expression.

  Matthew finally pulled away from Miranda. 'How would you like it if I spanked you?' he said.

  Miranda giggled. 'That would be naughty,' she said.

  Matthew pushed her down over his knee. He pulled up her skirt and pulled down her knickers.

  'That's a pretty little bottom,' he said. He looked up at me. 'Don't you think so, Annabel?'

  'Yes,' I said. 'It's the sort of bottom that cries out for a spanking.'

  It was. Miranda's bottom was different from Beth's; rounder, plumper, softer, less trim, but inviting. Matthew raised his hand and brought it down sharply. Miranda gave a little cry. Matthew did it again. Beth moved round to sit by Miranda's head. She bent and kissed her as she was being spanked, as if to reassure her that everything was OK. It was a rather touching gesture.

  The spanking went on for a while, Miranda making little noises and wriggling around, but it wasn't anywhere near the maximum of what Matthew was capable of. At last Matthew told Miranda to go and join me on the sofa. I had her lie across me, face down. I pulled up her skirt again and bared her bottom. It had flushed a delicate shade of pink. I stroked it gently while we watched Matthew with Beth.

  'Beth has been a good little girl,' Matthew said. 'And as a reward I'm going to let her suck my cock, which she very much enjoys. Don't you, Beth?'

  'Yes, sir,' Beth said. She moved to a position between Matthew's legs. He allowed her to unzip him, reach in and pull out his cock; it was erect already; I knew that spanking Miranda would have aroused him greatly. Beth took his cock in her mouth and began to suck eagerly. Latterly, it had been established by Matthew that sucking his cock was a privilege for Beth, not a right. He knew that she enjoyed doing it as
much as anything, and so, always looking to further tighten the reins, he had put her on restriction. Now she could suck it by invitation only; she wasn't even allowed to ask to suck it and often the sucking would be curtailed. Beth loved to suck until he lost control and flooded her mouth with his semen. But Matthew very rarely allowed that. Increasingly, as time went on, he ejaculated with her less and less, whether during intercourse or fellatio, or when she used her hand on him, which he sometimes required her to do. Withholding himself served to increase his power. By demonstrating self-discipline he showed her that his control was total.

  On this occasion, however, he allowed Beth to bring him to a climax, ejaculating into her mouth. I watched as she swallowed it down, and then licked his cock clean, savouring every last drop. Matthew whispered in her ear and she got up, came across to where Miranda lay across my lap, and kissed her on the mouth. Evidently, though he was not going to fuck her, Matthew wanted Miranda to know what he tasted like, on Beth's tongue.