2 comments/ 34006 views/ 8 favorites Becoming Owned By: slavejessie The club was busy. Someone more cool than me might say it was jumpin' or hoppin' or slammin'. I'm not that cool, I can't pull that off. But, it was busy. Bodies were pressed against each other up by the bar, only barely visible through the violet haze that permeated the air from the smoke machines and darkness. Bodies were pressed against each other on the dance floor, moving and sliding sinuously or banging around violently, all in time to the music. I felt the beat and wanted to dance, but shyness kept me from it. I hadn't danced since high school, and the styles had changed, the music had changed. I didn't want to look like an idiot and I was afraid I would. In fact, I was already afraid I did. I had taken the advice of some friends and borrowed some clothes from them. Leather skirt, lightly laced corset, high heeled leather boots. What was I doing in these clothes? I'd never worn anything like this in my life. I felt like I was in a costume. I stood in the doorway, off to the side so as not to block traffic flow, hesitant to take the next steps into the room. I couldn't see my friends from here, and they were supposed to meet me. Of course, I was early, and they were often not the most punctual of people. They probably weren't even here yet, even though they were the ones who had talked me into coming here to get out of the house after my last break up. It had been months since I'd gone anywhere social. I didn't see myself having much luck here either, since I wasn't into the bar scene, no matter if the bar was a goth bar/dance club. Who cared? They were all the same, just different people with different interests doing the same thing. I smoothed my skirt, took a deep breath, and followed a particularly bedecked couple into the interior of the dance portion of the club. A bar, some couches, stools and chairs, and the dance floor. I wandered around a little, looking to see if my friends were actually here or not, and I couldn't find them. I settled onto a stool in the darkest, most hidden corner I could find that still had a view of the doorway. Maybe no one would notice me or at least not talk to me until they were here. I sat there, not making eye contact with people for about ten minutes. I watched the dancers on the floor, checked the doorway periodically for my friends, and slowly drifted into a mind-numbed dazed brought about by the music, lighting, and fog. I don't know how long I sat there, mesmerized, staring at the dance floor, at one of the paid dancers in particular on top of a platform. I couldn't hear anything but the music even though people were all around me laughing and talking. My glazed eyes caught a bit of brightness over to the right, and I glanced away from the dancer for just a moment, and stopped. The music faded to the background of my consciousness, the chatter of the people completely gone. I no longer saw the dancers. Just him. He was looking at me too. No, he was watching me. Not staring, not mesmerized like I was. Just watching, arms crossed, calmly, patiently waiting for me to notice him. The brightness, a vibrant red satin shirt covering a black t-shirt, leather pants, boots. Oh, the boots. I stared. I couldn't help it. There was a girl there with him, talking to him. He was responding to her, but his attention kept returning to me. When his deep brown eyes met mine, my mouth went dry. He cocked his head to one side and beckoned to me with one hand. I paused and then stood up, rocking a little on the unfamiliar heels. Without really thinking, with my breath caught in my throat, I went to him. I weaved through the crowd easily, looking as though I was completely at ease in those leather boots. I stopped about a foot away from him, still staring. The girl wandered off, and he was watching me stare at him. I could feel his presence, large, warm, and safe. I wanted to touch him, but my shyness and natural reserve held me back. "Well, what do we have here?" His voice was smooth, comforting, hot in my ears. His head was tilted to the side, the brown eyes seeming to be hard and kind at the same time, now that I was closer. I shook myself mentally, breaking eye contact to regain control over my senses and looking instead at my boots. "I'm Jessie," I said, not looking up. "Matt," he said shortly, as if my name was not the information he wanted. I wasn't looking, so I jumped when he touched my chin with his forefinger, lifting my head so that my eyes met his again. "You must have come here to find me," he said softly, sending chills down my back. "You've got the look in your eyes." Startled, I pulled away from him now, his hand returning to his crossed arms. "What look?" He did not answer my question, instead taking my hand. "Dance with me." There was no question, no offer in the statement. It was an order, but I didn't argue or hesitate. I just went out onto the dance floor with him, and it was my undoing. He radiated power. He moved me through the unfamiliar dance moves with such knowledge and grace, my body moving as he wanted it to move. My normal clumsiness did not exist, had in fact vanished. The fact that I didn't know these moves, that I didn't know the music, never affected my feet, my body. I swayed, slithered, and slid all to the music, at the guidance of his hand. And I felt myself open. I felt myself drawn in. His hand slid up my back, to my neck, winding into my hair and grasping. My knees buckled, but he was there to catch me. His mouth devoured mine, tongue pushing deep into me, and I let him, pressing my leather clad hips against his. Grinding into him. He slid his one of his legs between mine, and moved me against his thigh. My already heated body ignited, and I writhed against his thigh, pressing myself against him, seeking the release that he was offering me. I stared into his hard yet warm eyes and wanted more. I wanted to be possessed by him, to have him take me right there on that dance floor. My pleasure built and built almost reaching crescendo, and then the song ended, and he moved me away from him. His hand wrapped around my wrist, and he said nothing, just led me toward the door of the club. I followed, unresisting. Down some stairs, out the door. My eyes were locked on the back of his shoulders, his neck. My clit throbbed beneath my skirt, but more than that, I wanted him. I wanted to pleasure him. I wanted him in my mouth, my pussy. I wanted him to conquer my body, with those hard warm eyes and his knowledge of me and what I needed to be. I didn't know where we were going, and didn't say a word when he led me to an alley. He leaned up against a wall, and I knelt down before him, unzipping his fly and taking him into my mouth. He was hard, apparently as turned on as I was. I swallowed him, tongue swirling, back and forth with my head. He tasted divine, slightly salty, warm, smooth. I wanted more of him, as deep into my mouth as possible. But he stopped me. "Pull your skirt up," he said to me. I said nothing, just did as he said, exposing my black satin panties to the chilled night air. "Take them off." I hesitated only slightly before obeying, handing them to him. He nodded and then indicated his stiffened prick. "Back to work." I dropped back to my knees, skirt still hiked, mouth enveloping him again. My desire was still building within me, albeit slower now. My bare ass and pussy were exposed to the chilled air, but that only seemed to make them more sensitive. He groaned above me now, pushing me away from him gently. Then he helped me to my feet. I was saddened to no longer have him in my mouth. He pushed me against the wall, though, and spread my legs. He shoved two fingers into my pussy, which spread and stretched easily to accommodate him. He fingered me for just a few moments, before withdrawing his fingers and shoving his cock deep into me. I moaned in relief when he did so, moving as much as I could to accommodate more of him. He began thrusting into me roughly. He wrapped his fingers back into my hair, and shoved my head gently against the wall while he fucked me. He leaned in close to my ear. "This is the first time you've done something like this, isn't it?" "Yes, oh God, don't stop." "Why now?" I couldn't think, desire was flowing over me, building, crashing against me. "What?" "Why now? Why me?" He paused in his thrusts, controlling himself when I could not. "Your eyes, your manner," I moaned. "Please, keep going." "What about them?" he asked, thrusting slowly into me now, and drawing himself back out even more slowly. I couldn't stand it. "It was as if you owned me. I couldn't help but obey. Fuck me, please. I can't take this much longer," I begged. "I do own you," he said. "You're mine from now on." He began thrusting in earnest. I thrust back against him as well as I could with my head pressed against the brick. "Ok." I said, or rather, moaned. "Say it." He fucked me harder and I felt my orgasm crashing over me. "You own me. I belong to you. Oh God, yes, yes!" I shrieked as I came. He released my hair and I thrust back against him, using his cock as I came to increase my pleasure. I caught my breath and he pulled out of me, not having come himself. He pushed me to my knees and placed his cock against my lips. I eagerly swallowed it, but he held my head and fucked my mouth for a few moments, coming into my throat. I swallowed gratefully and licked him clean. He pulled himself out of my mouth, and zipped his pants back up. I knelt at his feet and hugged his knees. My new owner, my Master. Becoming Owned Rebecca had fallen on hard times. She had to put off school until she could afford it. So she decided to apply for the ad for a live in house keeper. It was at the house of Dr. Marshall Wilkins and his wife Shirley. They had a posh mansion with a huge gate around the enormous estate. Rebecca had heard of Dr. Wilkins. He was a radical psychiatrist, and had an extremely successful practice. She stood at the doorway with her heart pounding in her chest. She tried to slow her breathe so that she wouldn't get worked up. She was nervous. She really needed that job. She rang the bell and waited patiently. Her breath was caught in her throat when the blond answered the door. She was magnificently beautiful. Her blond hair was straight and it came to her chin. She had striking blue eyes, and wore a lot of eye makeup so that they stood out tremendously. It was obvious that she had work done though. She had extremely high cheekbones, and her face almost resembled Barbie's face. She smiled politely, "You must be Rebecca. I'm Shirley, please come in." She opened the door wider so that Rebecca could enter. Rebecca got a full view of the woman. She wore a skimpy royal blue spaghetti strap tank top, which barely contained her rather large breasts. They were perky and round, Rebecca wondered if they were fake too. Her navel was showing and a cute little lock hung from her belly button ring. Her skirt was extremely low rise, as well as extremely short. It stopped just below her crotch, and Rebecca wondered how anyone could be comfortable with such little clothing. She had on blue four inch stiletto heels. The woman closed the door behind Rebecca, and showed her into what she said was her husband's home office. As she walked behind the woman, Rebecca couldn't help but watch the woman's ass. It was perfectly round, and it swayed as she walked. There was another woman sitting there. She had extremely short red hair, and freckles. She wore a suit jacket that was intended to have a blouse underneath it; however this woman did not wear a blouse. Rebecca wondered if she was going to see the woman's smaller breasts fall out if she moved the wrong way. She was seated a desk and smiled warmly as Rebecca entered. Shirley and she shared a look and then left the two alone. The woman pointed to an over stuffed chair in front of the desk, "Please sit honey. My name is Sara and I'm Dr. Wilkins' assistant. He will be in momentarily. He wanted me to start the interview." Rebecca began to get nervous again. There was something strange about this house, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She sat and crossed her long legs. She had worn a pair of blue jeans and a polo shirt. She didn't think she had to dress up for this interview since she was only looking to be a housekeeper. Rebecca had her shoulder length brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was starting to regret her decision. Should she have dressed more professionally? She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself again. The woman sat back in the chair, and Rebecca couldn't help but stare wondering about whether or not she would see a breast. "So tell me about yourself." The interview began very typical. The normal questions were asked. Rebecca found herself getting more comfortable as she answered the questions. They were interrupted towards what Rebecca thought was the end of the interview. A man who stood about six feet two walked in. He was a very well kept man, and it was obvious he hit the gym often. He wasn't overly muscular, but very defined. He had salt and pepper hair, and green eyes. He smiled slyly at Rebecca and stood next to Sara behind the desk. Sara lowered her eyes as he put his hand on her shoulder. "My name is Dr. Wilkins. How is the interview going?" Sara didn't say a word. Rebecca's heart began to pound again. She didn't know if she should answer or not. The silence was filling the room, and she was about to panic. He handed her the mug that he had been carrying. She took it. "Your face is flushed. You shouldn't be so nervous. I can tell that Sara likes you. Drink this up; if Sara likes you then you most likely will have the job. It chamomile tea, it will calm you down. So drink up, and relax." Rebeca took the mug and drank it. Before she knew it she was chatting again with Sara as he just sat back and watched. The tea must have been working because she was totally relaxed by the time she had finished it. She almost felt sleepy. When she put the mug down Dr. Wilkins spoke, "Rebecca, are you sexually active?" She wanted to be outraged at the question. That was none of his business. "Yes," she heard herself answer. "Are you currently involved in a sexual relationship?" Again she felt the question was completely inappropriate, and was going to open her mouth to tell him so. "No." Why couldn't she stop herself from answering? "How many men have you slept with?" As he asked these questions he opened Sara's jacket exposing her tiny breasts. Sara kept her head down as he fondled her nipple. Rebecca's mouth fell open. This was wrong. She wanted to leave but her legs felt like lead. She really couldn't move, all she could do was answer his questions and stare as he fondled the woman in front of her. "Three." "Have you ever had any sexually transmitted diseases?" He was tugging at Sara's nipples now, and she was breathing very heavily at his attention. "No." He continued to probe her sexual past. Rebecca wanted to cry with each invading question. He went on to ask her in depth about the frequency of her sexual encounters, the positions, oral sex, and whether or not she was interested women. As he did this he fondled Sara and had her undress, and sit on top of the desk. "Rebecca do you think it is odd that I want to know about your sexuality." "Yes" "Or that you are answering these questions?" "Yes" "Do you want to know why you are answering?" "Yes" "The tea you drank was heavily drugged with my own concoction. You see you were given a very potent truth serum so that I could get this information from you," he began. Sara's legs were spread wide in front of him, and he began to play with her pussy. She threw her head back as he was massaging her clit. Dr. Wilkins was not paying attention to Sara as he spoke to Rebecca, who was completely appalled and intrigued by the display. "It also had another drug in it that lowers your inhibitions and makes you prone to suggestion. You see this interview was not really for a housekeeper. That's what my wife is for. You are for my son." Dr. Wilkins continued. With that a young boy walked in. he had wavy brown hair, and large brown eyes. This boy had a very athletic build and a strange look in his eye. "I think that he is old enough now to enjoy his own personal play thing. I have had his mother for years, and then his mother brought me Sara. I enjoy my women greatly, but they are not for my son. You my dear are perfect." Rebecca wanted to scream again but couldn't. She was no one's play thing. Let alone a boy who was still in high school! He couldn't have been more than 16! "I know you are wondering how old he is. He's eighteen. So it's legal for you to fuck his brains out. That is if he wants you to. This is the last step to the interview Rebecca. And you want this job don't you?" Tears filled her eyes. She wanted to say no. she wanted to storm out of the room, but her body was not cooperating. "You need money Rebecca, and this job pays VERY well. So I think you need this job. You are going to take this job. Tell me Rebecca that you are going to take this job." "I am going to take this job," were the words that came out of her mouth immediately followed by a sob. What had she gotten herself into? Why couldn't she say no? "Good!" Dr. Wilkins smiled, and slapped Sara's breast. As he did so she got on her knees and unzipped his pants. "You will know this is wrong. You will always feel trapped because I like that idea. And you will always know you cannot leave. Do you understand me Rebecca." He said with a groan as Sara began to lick the head of his penis. Rebecca nodded. Finally she could say something that she truly felt. "This is wrong," she whispered as the boy came over to her and lifted her polo shirt over her head. "But Rebecca you crave my son. You crave his body! You need him inside you. You want every part of him." Rebecca nodded as he removed her bra and let her C-cup breasts free. "You know that doing anything with Mark is wrong, but everything about him makes you unbelievably horny. Why you are wet right now just knowing that he's touching you. Aren't you?" Rebecca moaned as the boy's hand grazed her shoulder, "Yes," moisture began to grow between her thighs. "The idea of being Mark's sexual toy always gets you soaked, and makes you want to fuck, but it's wrong Rebecca so wrong. You can't escape it, you need him. You will let him do whatever he wants to you –" Dr. Wilkins groaned as Sara slurped at his cock, "You are his Sex slave Rebecca, and that idea will always make you ashamed and cum. What are you Rebecca?" Mark was pulling at her breasts now. He was tugging at her nipples roughly. It was starting to hurt, but the moisture between her legs was flowing to the point she was sure she had a wet spot. This caused her to blush with embarrassment. "I'm Mark's toy." she said out of breath. She had a minor orgasm at the thought. "Mark she's all yours. I'm going to fuck this slut now, so take her to your room, and do what you want with her." Dr. Wilkins pulled Sara up by her hair and bent her over the desk. As Dr. Wilkins entered Sara, Mark pulled Rebecca out of the chair by her nipple. She yelped at the tugging, but finally was able to move. When out of the room he took her hand and led her up the stairs. She glanced at the door as they passed it. She wanted to bolt out the door. She wanted to run away and never come back. She couldn't have sex with this boy. The whole idea was making her so wet and her body tingled. She couldn't do this. It kept repeating in her mind as he led her into his room. For the first time the boy spoke to her, and in her mind it sounded like the voice of God. "You are mine now. I get to fuck you whenever I want. And you have to do whatever I say. You belong to me, and you can never refuse me. I am your will. You have none of your own." Tears slid down her cheeks as she nodded. This was wrong. Why was she so turned on by this? "Remove your pants now. Whenever you see me you must be naked. You don't deserve clothes. You're just a filthy fucking whore My filthy fucking whore!" Rebecca slid her pants down to her ankles and stepped out of them revealing her pink cotton panties had a huge wet spot in the front. He stood in front of her and placed his finger on the wet spot. She moaned as he pressed against her clit. "Whore," he whispered into her ear, and she moaned again. "Take these off too, and the socks completely naked." She did as she was told, and stood before the teenager completely naked, and exposed. Another tear slid down her cheek. "Spread your legs. Let me see that hairy snatch of yours." She spread her legs slightly. "Wider." She moved them farther apart, as he walked around behind her. He slapped her ass. "Wider skank!" Her inner thigh muscles tightened as she spread her legs as far as she could without toppling over. He was in front of her again. He put one hand on her mound, and the other on her shoulder so that she wouldn't fall over. He was keeping her balance now. He rubbed his palm up and down her mound and her breath became hard. "You are nothing to me, and I am everything to you. I let you cum. I give you release. I let you live. You cannot survive without me. You need me." He stuck a finger inside her slippery canal. "You are nothing but a walking fuck hole." He wiggled his finger around inside her, and her knees were becoming weak as she squealed in pleasure. "You will fuck whenever I want. You will cum only when I say no matter what. You will constantly be on the verge of orgasm, but cannot cum without me," He jammed another finger inside her, and she almost fell over with a gasp. "How do you feel?" "Humiliated," she said between gasps as he pumped now three fingers in and out of her, "Completely and totally humiliated, and horny. I cannot believe how hot I am." Rebecca confessed as she ground her hips into his hand. She felt pathetic for having this boy in complete control of her body. He smiled at her and removed his fingers from her pussy, and stuck them into his mouth. He licked all of her juice off of his hand, and she felt empty. He left go of her shoulder and pushed her to the floor. She fell back. "Get on your knees." She rose to her knees and her nose was at his crotch. Her eyes trained on the bulge in his pants. His khaki's the only thing between her and the thing she craved at that moment. It was so wrong, and her cheeks flushed crimson at the thought of needing his cock so badly. "What are you?" His hand came behind her head and turned it so that her cheek was resting against his erection. Mark began to rub her face against his cock. Rebecca could feel it twitch against her cheek. More tears slid down her face as she snuggled the young man's penis. "A walking fuck hole." Rebecca couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. She was an independent woman. She wasn't some bimbo. "Who do you belong to?" He pressed her head harder against the steel member in his pants. "You." "Take it out." Eagerly, Rebecca reached up and undid his pants. Her hands tugging his pants down and his cock flopped out. It slapped against her forehead when it sprang free. Mark laughed at her, and she felt her clit tingle and twitch. "My cock now rules your life. You live for it, you crave it. You want to taste it every day. You want to fuck it all the time. You know that your sole purpose is to please this cock isn't it?" "Yes." Her stomach flopped and churned at the idea Meanwhile her clit twitched again and her pussy was leaking down her thighs. She was such a horny slut. "What is your purpose?" "To please your cock." "You make lick it only." Rebecca leaned in and opened her mouth slipping her tongue out. She rain her tongue down the shaft of his cock and then back up. Her tongue swirled around the bulbous end of his erection. She flicked it as she went back down the shaft again. Her cunt clenched each time her tongue pressed against his hard member. "Suck the tip." Rebecca brought her face up and closed her lips against the tip. She kissed the pearl of pre-cum and pressed her head forward. As she did her lips opened to welcome the spongy tip into her mouth. She suckled it as if it were a lollipop. She couldn't help herself and she moaned in delight feeling him enter into her body. She heard him groan when his hands came into her hair. He tugged fists full of hair and then dragged her head down hard. Her throat was forced to open and welcome his cock into her mouth. Again Rebecca groaned before his cock buried itself deep into her throat cutting off her air supply. Mark began to fuck her face rapidly. Rebecca gagged hard. Drool dripped down her chin and covered her chest. Her nose ran and she sniffled trying to contain the snot. Her tears were falling more steadily. No longer in shame, but due to his hard fucking of her throat. Mark growled and thrust his swelling cockhead deeper into her throat, nearly knocking her over. Rebecca grabbed his thighs in an attempt to balance herself. The warm stream of cum filled Rebecca's throat and she swallowed it down. Squirt after spurt of cum shot into her throat. Mark pulled his cock back as the last two shots came. One landed on Rebecca's forehead and the other directly up her nose. He laughed at her once he had gained his breath. She tried to lick the bit of cum off her face. Mark slapped her hard causing Rebecca to fall over and whimper as she tried to catch her breath. "That was good fuck toy. Later we'll take your cunt for a test drive. But right now I have homework to do." She lay there on the floor of room sobbing. She had just wanted a job, extra pocket money, and to pay for school. Somehow she had just become a sex slave to a high school boy. Her cunt continued to spasm driving her insane. She swiped a finger of cum from her forehand and began to rub it into her clit. On her back with her legs bent, knees far apart, Rebecca stroked her sex. She is a fuck hole, she is a skank. She stroked herself but couldn't cum. She was blocked. No matter how desperately, or how hard she rubbed, she would not cum without Mark. So humiliated she couldn't stop herself. Her hand had a mind of its own as her cunt continued to swell, drip, and pulse. All she could do was be ready for when he wanted to use her again.