The Owned Girl

by Dominic Ridler

  'Did you let him kiss you?' Matthew asked.

  'Of course,' said Beth, looking rather pleased with herself.

  'Open-mouthed kissing?'

  'Of course.'

  'And then?'

  'Then?' Beth knew Matthew was in an agony of suspense, fearing the worst. She was enjoying it.

  'What did he do with his hands?'

  'He put his hand up my skirt.'

  'How far? All the way? Into your knickers?'

  'Uhuh,' she said.

  'You liked that, didn't you,' Matthew said accusingly.

  'What's not to like?' Beth said pertly.

  'Did he put his finger inside you?'

  'More than that,' Beth said. She looked a little scared now, afraid of what she had started, yet unable to stop.

  'What do you mean?' Matthew demanded, with a black look.

  Beth shrugged. 'You may as well know, he fucked me.'

  For a moment Matthew was speechless. Beth stared at him.

  'I told you that was forbidden,' he said.

  'It just happened,' Beth retorted.

  Matthew leaned across the table. Slowly and deliberately he took hold of her hair, twisting her head forward, and then slapped her face, hard. Beth recoiled in shock. This wasn't the blow of a dom seeking to impose discipline. It was the blow of an angry, jealous man. I didn't like what I was seeing.

  Beth tore herself away. 'He fucked me real good,' she spat at him. 'And he's got a lovely big cock. Big and hard.'

  Matthew started back, almost as if Beth had struck him in retaliation.

  'And I'm going to let him fuck me again,' she said. 'Over and over.'

  She started to cry. I felt sorry for her. It wasn't her fault that Matthew could no longer cope with her natural desire to see other men. Yes, she had disobeyed our orders. But what had happened was inevitable; the wonder was that it hadn't happened sooner. I took Beth in my arms and held her close. I don't know whether Matthew was moved by the sight of the two women he cared about most comforting each other. But he said he was sorry. He asked Beth for forgiveness. He came round the table and embraced both of us.

  Without a word, we moved towards the bedroom. Once inside, Beth and I cooperated in taking off Matthew's clothes. We laid him on the bed and each of us began to kiss him, all over. Beth took his cock in her mouth and sucked it gently, while I nibbled at his balls and stroked his belly with my hand. I think Beth and I could both feel Matthew's pain, and we wanted to ease it in the most direct way possible. He allowed himself to be fondled and caressed. It crossed my mind (somehow my mind is never still, even in the throes of sexual congress) that Beth and I could not both fuck him, at least not together; a woman is provided with more than one orifice, but a man has only one cock. I decided that I would defer to Beth; she should have him, because I sensed her need was greater; and I also suspected that she would not have many more opportunities to do this. I, on the other hand, or so I hoped, would have the rest of my life.

  I whispered in Beth's ear that she should fuck him. She straddled him and lowered her hips, impaling herself on his cock. I settled down beside Matthew, stroking his chest, nibbling his ear, whispering words of encouragement or perhaps obscenities designed to keep him aroused. It was not long before Beth managed to bring him off, and he ejaculated with a long drawn-out groan.

  Beth climbed off him and then, much to my surprise, she turned me onto my back and went down on me. When she put her mind to it she was a lascivious and skilled eater of cunts, and it didn't take her long to pleasure me. I had a feeling that somehow she wanted to make things up to me too, in the best way she knew how, wanted to show both of us what a good and loving girl she could be. It's a moment I treasure.

  But of course it was too good to last. The problems of our tripartite arrangement were intractable. Complaints about how impossible Matthew was making her life began to escalate on her blog. There were phone calls, in which Matthew tried vainly to reassert control, to bring her to heel, but Beth was stubborn. She insisted that she could not refuse to see Gavin any more, that this would be rude and heartless, since he had, as she maintained, been a perfect gentleman.

  'How has he been a gentleman,' Matthew countered, 'given that he knew the terms on which you were allowed to see him, and he deliberately flaunted them by fucking you?'

  Beth of course had no real answer to that, protesting instead that what Matthew had tried to impose was an impossible regime. When he pointed out that it had worked tolerably well for some time, Beth insisted that things were different now.

  'Yes,' said Matthew. 'Once you were obedient, now you are not. Once you wanted us to take care of you, now you do not.'

  'I've changed, for ever,' said Beth dramatically. 'I've grown up. But you haven't changed at all.'

  I hardly ever saw Beth now. She didn't come round to our apartment. I knew that she and Matthew still met occasionally, in coffee shops or bars. And they carried on a dialogue, albeit an increasingly rancorous one, via emails and texts. Beth began to blog about Gavin. Since her version of her love affair was the only one I had, I can't definitively say that it was an untruthful account. But knowing Beth as I did, I was able to read between the lines. Gavin was perfect, he adored her, he was masterful, and in just the way she needed. But somehow the blog seemed to relate endless disagreements between them, disagreements that usually ended in harmony (after Beth's view of the matter had prevailed), but which nevertheless revealed an underlying tension. There always appeared to be some unresolved issue, something that wasn't right, that required Gavin working hard to understand Beth's point of view.

  In the end, Matthew grew resigned to the fact that he had lost her. Slowly, he let go. I'm not sure if there was ever a formal rupture, or whether it just faded out. 'This is the way the world ends; not with a bang but a whimper.' Strange though it may seem, we didn't discuss it much between the two of us. Instead, we began to refind our relationship with each other, spending more time together, talking more, not about the unusual young woman who had been part of our existence for a year or two, but about ourselves.

  Things are a lot better now than they have been for a long time. I'm beginning to get back my confidence, which I realise, had been badly dented by Beth's presence. Yes, I was notionally in control of her, I had the power. But it's not easy to remember that when you watch your husband looking at a girl ten years your junior, a smart, pretty blonde girl with a slender figure, a girl who will, as soon as he orders it, get on her knees and service him in any way he pleases. Maybe I had more power than I thought; but I lacked the will to use it. Increasingly I had simply gone along with what Matthew wanted. He had the stronger personality, and it was easier to let him make the running.

  I'm not sorry it happened. It was a remarkable experience, in which I found a lot of sexual pleasure, had my mind broadened in many ways, and learned a lot, both about myself and about other people. But I can't say I'm sorry it's over. Things had run their course.

  I still read Beth's blog. And perhaps I can see things in it that other readers don't discern as clearly. She has started writing about a girl she has met, a dominant and sexually experienced girl. Beth seems drawn to her. And, if her blog is to be believed, Gavin is willing to allow her to have sexual encounters with this girl. Beth has convinced him that it's not only a desirable thing in itself, but a necessary part of her development (so that if he were to demur, he would open himself to the charge of deliberately blocking her emotional well-being). But I wonder if Gavin has much idea of what he's letting himself in for. Of course the situation is not identical to the one we had with Beth. This time, instead of being owned by a couple, she is dividing herself between two (supposedly) dominant but unrelated people. She's going to submit to them equally, one assumes. But I doubt if there is any such thing as 'equal' in such situations. In any threesome, there is always one who is more watcher than participant. And there is always one who is ultimately in charge, who dictates, however subtly, the course of events. Personal
ly I have little doubt who that one will turn out to be; and whatever he may think now, it won't be Gavin.

  Also by Dominic Ridler:

  A Well Trained Pup A Sexual Odyssey

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