Owned

(From an earlier post of mine on A Flight of Fantasy.)

“Lynn," came the voice from the couch.

Shit, he’s home, she thought, pausing outside the door. She trembled a bit but pulled her key from the lock and pushed the door open, stepping quietly inside.

"Lynn," he repeated, sternly, silently daring her not to respond.

"Uh huh?" she mumbled, dropping her purse on the table and brushing quickly through the hallway. She risked a sideways glance into the living room, as she passed into the bedroom.

Two men were sitting opposite each other; her Ben, with his neat trousers and button up shirt and another, longer, slimmer with dark-rimmed glasses and snug jeans. Ben had been home only a short while, she knew, but his tidy hair was disheveled, his feet bare and his shirt was open at the neck, his tie undone and hanging loosely from his collar.

"When I call you, Lynn, you answer me correctly. Get out here immediately," his directions were abrupt but indisputable.

"Um," she stalled, "one minute, 'kay?"

Lynn wrung her hands, kicked off her heels, and glanced nervously through the crack in the door. She knew this was coming, but who was the other man? Why was he here? She didn’t have time to ponder long; she heard Ben stand instantly and march angrily toward their bedroom. He pushed open the door and grabbed her dark, straight hair, yanking her into the hallway while she grimaced and snatched at his hand.

"Perhaps I have not been clear enough, darling," he hissed, twisting long strands into his fist and pulling her trembling lips close to his own, "I own you. Own. You will come to me unquestionably, you will submit, you will beg, and if necessary…”

He was very close to her face now, locked on her eyes, “You will be broken. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

She nodded violently, biting her lip and hanging tightly on his fist. He glared and shook her gently.

"Ye-yesss sir," she whispered, glancing nervously at the second man. He was watching the whole ordeal with a rather vacant face, but his eyes missed nothing. Ben loosened his grip but did not free her knotting hair.

"Get your hands behind your head," he ordered, and she responded at once, lacing her fingers behind her neck and waiting.

"Good," he purred, as he pushed her farther into the room, past the man and toward an opposite, sunny corner. She tried desperately to hold back her tears as he pressed her to her knees and shoved her face into the corner.

"Spread your legs," he demanded, as she whimpered. She looked back at him wretchedly, infuriating him. He slapped her hard across the face.

"Did I tell you to turn around?" he growled, forcing her back into the corner. He shoved his leg between her thighs and kicked them apart. When she cried out, he took pity on her, running his foot up her leg and stroking under her wool skirt. He pulled up the itchy cloth and found her naked behind. She blushed into the wall.

"No panties, you little slut," he chided, softly. The other man stood up at this and Ben let her go, not bothering to lower her skirt again.

"You have to go, Lou?" Ben asked.

"Sadly, yes, but I see what you mean here, Ben," the man called Lou replied, gesturing to Lynn in the corner, "I will be interested to see more at a later time."

"There are always later times with this one...but wait one moment, please," Ben said as he grabbed Lynn and dragged her to her feet, turning her to face Lou.

She dipped awkwardly, her hands still clasped behind her head, and tried to cross her legs and cover herself. She was a mess already and her punishment hadn’t even begun. Her skirt was bunched at her waist, her blouse open and gathering at her round breasts. Her legs were short, but muscled and her small, broad feet were bare. She wore a single strand of pearls and her long, coffee hair was disheveled. Her face, when laughing, was pretty with a pink, bow mouth and small nose; she had grey-blue eyes surrounded by long, now wet, lashes.

She was scowling.

"Apologize to the man," Ben instructed, shaking her slightly.

"Sorry," she muttered, glaring at the floor. Ben slapped her naked bottom reproachfully, asserting, "I will not tell you again."

She gasped and gritted her teeth, "I am truly sorry, sir, if my behavior has caused any unpleasantness in your visit to our home today."

The man called Lou looked her over and then nodded to Ben, stepping through the door. Ben motioned her back to the corner as he followed the man out. They left the door open and Lynn could hear the click of a lighter, could smell the cigarette smoke. They were talking low and she could not make out any of the conversation before it trailed down the driveway.

Lynn leaned into the wall and thought about how she had ended up here, today. She had a hard time submitting to his will sometimes; he was demanding and she was stubborn. Fucking rules. Couldn't this have been avoided?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the heavy front door thumping closed. He went into the kitchen and poured himself Vodka over ice. He took his time; he removed his tie and ran his fingers through his hair again. He pulled one of the straight-backed, dining table chairs behind her and settled himself to stare at her while she waited in the corner.

He drank as his eyes played over her body, her shaky hands, her knees folded, stretched wide apart, causing her backside to protrude softly. He could see his handprint staining her blanched skin, her tight cherry puckered up. He was livid about her ongoing disregard. Tonight, she would have to be broken; he would force her to submit, to beg.

"Lynn," he began softly, tucking in more Vodka, "tonight will be special, you know."

He waited, and she nodded.

"Tonight you will be owned; it will be furious, violent even. I will take you, but in the end, you will be happier, safe. You will know where you belong," he promised, finishing his drink and setting it on the coffee table. He stood and approached her; she was careful to keep her eyes on the wall.

"Good girl," he cooed, as he stroked her hair. She waited.

"Stand," he instructed, helping her to her feet and turning her toward the long, creamy sofa, "Over the back of it, slut."

She whimpered and pleaded with her eyes. He sighed and fisted the hair at the base of her neck, shoving her irritably over the back of the couch. She grabbed at the cushions and tucked her face into them. Her backside was stretched taut and tremendously exposed; her skirt was now bunched entirely at her waist and her toes curled under the couch. He eyed her flesh and grabbed a handful of it on each side, spreading her cheeks apart viciously and spitting on her smarting hole. She shrieked, arrogantly and turned to face him, her glare stormy. He grabbed her face with his hand and pulled her up to his mouth.

"Don’t like that, do you?" he grinned, then kissed her mouth. She struggled, tearing her lips from his. He laughed and then spit in her face. She screamed and clawed at him.

"Nooo," she yelled as he pinned her hands on the couch.

"You see, darling, there is no such thing as 'no' for me. I take what I want, and tonight you will learn this," he assured her, smacking quickly over the right side of her ass. She growled and thrashed her legs.

"You can’t doooo this! You can’t!" she shrieked, but he ignored her, grabbing her two hands in one of his.

"Oh, I can…and so much more," he pledged, slipping one large, rough finger between her cheeks and teasing her hole. She panicked.

"Please, no, Ben. Please, please. I’ll be so good," she moaned, twisting her hips away from his exploring hands.

"Hmm," he replied, tightening his grip and sliding his middle finger into her asshole, "Such a dirty, naughty girl."

She cried, so ashamed and exposed; she bucked against him and screamed into the cushions.

"Owned, baby," he repeated, softly, taking his finger back out, "but first, I’ll just get you warmed up."

He smiled to himself and let go one of her arms, testing her fight. She remained still; he dropped the other onto the couch.

It was a mistake; Lynn pulled at the cushions and yanked herself over the couch, scrambling for safety. Ben caught her ankle and heaved her back, brutally, scraping her stomach over the hard edge and planting his palm on the small of her back. She gasped and tugged against his arm; with one hand, he unbuckled his belt, jerked it through his belt loops, and doubled it. In an instant, he was raining meaty lashes upon her flushed skin. She cried out as her cheeks and thighs darkened with each stripe.

He did not let up, ten, twenty, fifty, until she lay wilted over the sofa, tears saturating the milky fabric. He dropped the belt next to her so that she could see the nasty instrument, could feel the supple heat of it. She shook but did not move; she flinched when Ben spanked her hard and calculatingly, an echoing burn into fire stripes.

He left her, went to the kitchen and poured another drink. He admired her backside, he admired her resolve; relishing her fight, he sipped his drink.

The sun was setting and the house was glowing pumpkin and squash and a hundred different golds. Ben looked out onto the autumn fields beyond his pouty, aching fiancé. Casually, he approached her, cradling his drink. He placed his hand on her bottom and pinched her bruised skin disapprovingly; Lynn squeezed her eyes shut and slid the side of her hand into her mouth. He yanked her tender bottom cheek to the side and skimmed her skin with the cold glass; she breathed in sharply but arched against it’s soothing chill. He tilted the glass, letting some of the cold, clear liquid drip over her ass and down her legs, in between.

He set the glass down again and raked a finger over her dainty pucker. Startled, she shifted violently back and forth, trying desperately to avoid his touch.

"I told you that I would not be denied, woman," he hissed, unzipping his slacks and kicking them down his legs and off. He pressed against her skin and she could feel his thick, cruel cock. She was scared.

"Please, Ben. You don’t have to do this. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m not just saying that," she pleaded, "I know how to be a good girl. I can be—will be, you’ll see. Please, please." She was sputtering frantically, glancing back at him.

"Yes, baby. You will be a good girl, but we are beyond all of that now," he palmed his dick and lifted it out of his boxers, stroking it arrogantly against her ravaged skin, "You see, I did not say you would be punished tonight, I said you would be owned."

He slid his dick into her lap and rubbed it against her juices, "You’re such a good girl. I knew you would be wet, you little slut."

He sopped up her cream and gritted his teeth against his impulse to plunge into her soaked pussy. Instead, he jammed her ass against the couch and stretched her cheeks as wide as he could; she wailed, trying to protect her sore bottom. He sunk his cock into her anxious hole, while she gasped and bucked. She was burning, she was kicking. He held her against his chest before he pulled out; she automatically clenched her cheeks together, big tears rolling down her face.

He waited for her to calm, "We’re not done yet."

She sobbed and covered her backside.

"Move your hands immediately or we can continue with the belt," he commanded. She whimpered, but could not move her hands.

He scowled and retrieved the leather strap lying next to her. Angrily, he shoved her hands away and assailed her delicate bottom a second time, carving out spiteful ribbons of pain and continuing the blistering onslaught long after her cries turned to screams turned to pitiful moans. She thought that she could feel nothing more.

How very wrong she was. He parted her cheeks and filled her hole ferociously, meeting her cheeks with his hips and possessing her. She fought him, but in vain; she thought he would rip her apart and she cried openly.

"How c-can you?" she sputtered, fighting against him, hiccupping and coughing, "It h-hurts s-s-so much."

He laughed.

"Because I own you," he explained, smashing into her anew and smiling as she blubbered. He pulled out and drove into her again, again, methodically until her whimpers became sighs became begging.

"You like it, don’t you, you slut?" he crooned, as she shuddered over his swollen cock, "You want me to pound your little hole until you come? You want that, baby?"

"Please, please, s-sir. Yes, yes," she murmured, rocking with the waves of craving racing up and down her body.

"Cumming is only for good girls, my love," he replied, driving hungrily into her. She moaned, "And you are not a good girl."

She frowned at his words and he gave her ass a hard smack.

His thrusts increased until he was sweaty and delirious with need, and he came deep inside her asshole. When his breath evened, he grabbed her hair again; he pulled out of her, spilling hot cum onto the floor. He dragged her up by her hair, and shoved her down at his feet. She was on her hands and knees, not daring to meet his eyes.

"Start on the floor and lick it all up," he instructed, pointing at the carpet with his toe. He leaned his head back and treasured the feel of her defiant mouth tracing a doting path up his leg, over his testicles, and settling on his raw, pounding cock.

"That’s a good girl," he whispered, patting her head and crushing her face to his lap, "Good girl."