Claiming Khym

Author's note:

This story had an unusual origin. At the request of another Lit member, I agreed to co-author a story with her. She told me a fantasy she wanted to work with. I started with the male character's perspective then handed it off to her to write a portion of the story from the female character's perspective, and so on. We eventually completed it after a month or so.

She, however, was not pleased with her contributions. After some discussion, I agreed to rewrite her portions. The resulting story represents our collective narrative, but at this point the writing is all mine. It's distinct from a story I would write on my own, since the actions and responses of the female character, and in some cases the male character, originated with her. I left in dashed lines to show which parts she originally wrote versus mine. It's pretty obvious anyway, since the perspective changes.

She has asked to remain anonymous. If you have any questions please don't hesitate to message me.

The story features mild BDSM themes. All characters are over the age of 18.

Thank you for reading!

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James drew in deep breaths, trying to calm himself. At fifty-five he had mostly mastered his temper, but there were a few situations that could reliably set him off. Seeing his son mistreated, or in this case merely thinking on it too long, was one such trigger.

He couldn't go in there angry. From what he had seen from her, and heard from Chip, Khym had her own issues controlling her temper. If the two went at it, he'd never get what he came for. So as the engine popped and cooled, James sat behind the wheel, drumming his fingers and trying to gather himself.

James Cliff had never cared for Khym. Whereas at twenty-six, Chip was already showing promise in his career, Khym seemed to lack purpose. The younger Cliff had paid the rent for their apartment, furnished it, and taken his girlfriend on a few modest vacations. Khym, though she had finished her undergraduate degree, showed little interest in putting it to use. Instead, she seemed comfortable spending Chip's salary while trying to present an outrageous lifestyle on social media. It was all so shallow.

James did a breathing exercise to calm himself. He was ready. The past wasn't important, he told himself. All he had to do was go in, grab a few last things that Chip had left behind, and get out. It would all be over in less than an hour.

Closing the car door, he strode toward the little garden apartment his son had shared with Khym. Did he imagine it, or had the girl just disappeared behind a curtain? He knocked.

For a moment, James was speechless. The young woman who opened the door was barely dressed. Khym was wearing a ripped crop top which didn't even pretend to cover the gold bikini she was wearing underneath. The generous scoops of her cleavage were on proud display. Below, jean shorts so skimpy as to be pointless had been pulled over the bikini bottom. Her skin was toned, tan, and firm. James gawked at her for a heartbeat too long before he finally recovered.

"Khym," he started, trying to sound comfortable. "Thank you for letting me come over. Chip said you had most of his stuff in a box, but that maybe a few things were laying around."

The brunette shrugged indifferently and turned away. James followed her in and stood awkwardly in the doorway. There was a mat on the floor, and some trippy new-age music playing - the kind James couldn't stand. Nothing ever changed in it, just protracted tones alongside an occasional gong or some such. The airhead must have been practicing yoga.

"I think it's here," the girl said, bending over to rummage through a bookcase. James was treated to a view of her voluptuous ass. For a moment he could see why Chip had stayed in the relationship so long. Khym had an impressive body.

"Here," she said finally, dropping a box onto the coffee table. Finished with him, she flopped back onto the couch, immediately burying herself in her phone.

James tried to shrug off her rudeness. He sifted through the box, trying to remember everything Chip had said should be there. A few things were missing.

"Khym, there should be a cigar box here. A wooden one. Chip had some mementos in it."

If she had heard him, the brunette pretended otherwise. Astounded, James raised his voice. "Khym!"

Her eyes flew open, startled. "What?" she said.

"The cigar box. Where is it?"

"Oh," she said, before returning to her phone. "I'm using that."

Despite his efforts to manage it, James' temper was rising. "'Using it'? That belongs to Chip."

Khym rolled her eyes. "Shit, it's just a stupid box."

"That 'stupid box' has medals from me, and Chip's grandfather, among other things. Now, are you going to get it or should I go into the bedroom and tear things apart?" The girl's indifference was more than he could bear.

The brunette stared at him, eyes wide. In the two years he had known her, James had never seen her look at him that way. The girl had always dismissed him, choosing to spend her energies ordering Chip around, or hiding in her phone. This was different. She was assessing him.

"Uh, okay." Khym pulled herself up from the couch, and with a long look back over her shoulder at James, disappeared into the bedroom.

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Once out of sight, Khym stopped to collect herself. Her heart raced, a reaction better suited to a hard workout than the yoga she had just finished. Desperately, she tried to suppress the unexpected turmoil within her.

It was happening again. The old guy, Chip's father, had an effect on her. His forcefulness, his physical presence, the intensity of his gaze, all set off triggers within her. She wanted him. No, she wanted him to take her, claim her as his property and use her however he wished.

How long had it been? How long since she had been owned, dominated? Too long, she knew. Her body cried out for it. Already, warmth seeped into her pussy. She slipped a hand to her clit.

Khym spotted her reflection in the mirror. Though young, pretty, and with a shapely, petite body, she had never felt comfortable in the role of a confident modern woman. With a passive man she quickly grew bored. Even Chip, tall and handsome as he was, disappointed her. She had wanted to make it work, but her spirit was restless. Her flesh yearned to be dominated. She ached for it.

The collar hadn't worked. Chip had laughed nervously when she showed it to him the first time. Later in the bedroom he had gamely bucked it on her but had quickly grown uncomfortable. He hadn't even fucked her that night. The collar and leash had remained unused since, a reminder of how poorly she and Chip were matched.

Pleasure shot through her. Without consciously willing it, Khym's fingers had been probing her clit. But she mustn't. Property wasn't allowed to cum, not without permission.

He was hot for her. That much was obvious. The man's eyes had brazenly taken in her body, not bothering to conceal his desire for her. But then, attracting men had never been a problem for Khym. Finding the right one however, that was proving nearly impossible. She couldn't blow this chance. Impulsively, she snatched the collar from the nightstand. The stiff leather gave her a shudder of excitement. It would hurt her. He would hurt her.

She brought it to him.

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With Khym momentarily out of his sight, James had a moment to consider the confusing twist of emotions he was feeling. His anger was still up, but there was something more. Certainly she was a very desirable young woman, reinforced by the achingly sexy outfit she was wearing. But it was the way she had looked at James that flicked some kind of switch inside of him. He was sure it had been a look of sudden interest, sudden appreciation. Her eyes had taken him in, then at the very end looked away as if cowed. It was impossible of course, but for a moment he imagined her not as his son's ex girlfriend, but as a sex object.

When after several minutes Khym emerged, he became even more confused. The girl's eyes were fixed on the floor in front of her, but in her small hands she held out something unexpected. James took it from her, perplexed. It was a collar.

The black leather collar was heavy and thick, with sturdy metal clasps where it buckled. It could only be a sex toy, James thought. Irritation flared in him. Was she trying to shock him, saying she and Chip had dabbled with domination and submission? He opened his mouth to chastise her, but stopped.

Khym had turned away from him, and with both hands had gathered up her black hair. Her slender neck was bare and open to him. It was an invitation.

Again, arousal and confusion clashed within him. Why was she doing this? He could only work out one explanation. It took James a moment to find his voice.

"Did you and Chip do this?"

The girl shook her head quickly before turning his head part way toward him. "No," she said. "No, Chip..." Her voice faltered. "He didn't like me this way." She paused again before continuing. "He... I'm sorry Mr. Cliff, but he wasn't strong like you." Khym turned away quickly, ashamed or afraid.

It all made sense. Though Chip wasn't a weak man, he had at times gone over the top to placate Khym, and for that matter his earlier girlfriends. He couldn't seem to make a decision without checking for approval with his girl. Where to go, which wine he should order, who they should hang out with, even which parking spot was best... he seemed obsessed with deferring to women no matter how trivial the decision. James had interpreted Khym's bossing of Chip as nastiness, but he now realized she had been making up for what she needed in a man. She needed to be controlled.

James' cock swelled, pressing against his pants. The twenty-three year-old was offering herself to him. It was that simple. All he had to do was take her.

He reached for her throat.

Khym gasped at the touch of James' hands. Obediently, she kept her hair out of the way as the older man buckled the collar into place. The rugged band highlighted her delicate neck. In the matter of minutes, the bitchy girl had transformed into a pet, into property.

Sliding his hands down her neck slowly, James reached her shoulders and squeezed hard, digging his fingers into her tender flesh. Khym let out a little yelp. "Is this what you wanted?" he asked. "To be owned?"

"Yes, oh yes Master!" The brunette was trembling. She had let her hair down but still faced away from him.

When had he last been this hard?

"Okay then, bitch." The forbidden language further fueled his lust. "Put your whore mouth on my cock."

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Abandonment. The memory of the sensation was distant, but not lost. To yield oneself to another was liberating in a way that only those who had succumbed to it could understand. With surrender comes freedom.

A surge of relief tinged with lust washed over her. Khym's knees buckled. Afraid to lose the moment she practically tore at James' pants, eager to prove her worth. A belt, trouser fasteners, a zipper, and finally a pair of boxer briefs, one by one the girl worked to liberate the man's cock. At last it sprung free.

Chip had been well endowed. Khym remembered their first time, the way her slick pussy had welcomed his eager rod. Though the sex had been bland, still she had taken in pleasure in the way he had filled her. James was different. The cock that swung proudly before was fatter than any she had taken. Thick veins marked the surface, twisting like roads leading to the bulging head. She couldn't do it. She had to.

Khym stretched her mouth over the man's cock. With effort she took the head, opening herself to him. She flicked her tongue against the head, withdrew, then tried again.

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James groaned, equally surprised and aroused. Against all likelihood, it had worked. Attaching the collar had completed the girl's transformation. She was his.

The brunette's jet locks spilled across her shoulders wildly. From his perspective all James could see was her hair, the tanned skin of her shoulders, and the glint of the gold bikini. Her head was bent too far forward to see how much of his cock she was taking, but it couldn't be very much. It wasn't enough.

"Stop!" he commanded. James grabbed a fistfull of hair and pushed Khym off of his cock. She looked up at him, eyes wide with confusion. "Stand."

"What, I..."

"Stand!" he repeated, yanking her hair hard. The girl stood, scrambling to comply.

"This stupid thing." James grabbed the flimsy crop top with both hands and tore it in half. Impatiently, the older man pushed the fabric off of her shoulders. It dropped to the floor, a useless shred of pale cloth. "You do yoga in this?"

"I, yes, I... " the girl stammered. Her eyes strayed down then back up. "Yes, Master."

"Turn around." Khym hastily complied, presenting her back to him. James took a moment to appreciate the view of her taut body. He ran his hands up her lower back, stopping at the bikini strap. The girl was trembling. With an expert twist he popped the strap free. Khym made a small gasp.

"Face me."

She did, keeping her eyes down.

"Take it off," he said, and admired the view as Khym slipped off the gold bikini top.

How could Chip have let her get away, he wondered? Her body was a marvel, petite but fit with a slim waist and toned belly. Her breasts were almost impossibly buoyant, full without heaviness. With a stronger hand his son could have kept the girl as his plaything.

"Kneel," James commanded. "More this time." Placing his hand firmly on Khym's shoulder he pushed her to the floor. His rigid cock awaited.

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The man's hands on her body sent a shudder through Khym. His forcefulness as he dragged her to her feet and tore off her top sent a rush straight to her pussy. She was wet and getting wetter, well on her way to being able to accommodate even a cock as thick as James'.

Not that merely offering her pussy would satisfy such a man. He had asked, no, demanded she pleasure him with her mouth. To disappoint him would mean losing him. With no thought but providing her new master with pleasure, she leaned forward. A set of plump balls awaited her.

James groaned as she tongued and sucked his balls. She circled them eagerly, her tongue flicking and licking each individually before trying to take them both into her mouth. She couldn't quite fit them, but the continued moans of her master was all she needed. Instead, she drew one ball fully into her mouth, and while stroking his dick, dared a glance up. James' eyes were closed, lips parted. She was pleasing him.

Still, the challenge of his cock remained. Khym couldn't wait any longer. Willing herself forward she again slipped her lips around the angry head.

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The slut, properly guided, was a marvel. As James watched, Khym practically forced her mouth over his bulging shaft. Lips stretching she first took the head and at least two more inches. She slowed. For a moment James thought the girl had reached her limit. It wouldn't have been a surprise. Khym was petite, and James knew his cock was larger than most. But then, surprising him, she drove forward again. More of his cock disappeared before Khym gagged. Even then she held him, retching but not giving up. At last she pulled off.

"Ahhhhh," she gasped, struggling for breath. A string of saliva swung free before dripping to her chest. Furtively, she glanced up at James. The girl was certainly eager to please.

James knew better than to give anything away. "Again," he instructed, fixing her intently with his gaze.

Obediently, Khym bent her head and returned to work. Once more she engulfed him. Once more she withdrew, but now repeated the motion. Soon her head was bobbing rhythmically, taking more of him than he could remember any other partner taking. It was incredible. Her wild hair tossed about, sometimes blocking his view. James took a handful, pulling it back and to one side before gripping it tightly. Her head now held firmly, Khym had little option but to obey.

Pleasure swirled around his cock. Tingles of ecstasy ran across the surface of his skin, or shot deep. Saliva dripped somehow from Khym's almost impossibly tight mouth. Soon his balls were as slick as his shaft. The girl's chin and breasts glistened. Her routine gagging reminded James how far she was pushing herself to pleasure him. He was in heaven.

His pants hung in a tangle at his feet. James kicked them away and quickly unbuttoned his shirt. Khym, wearing only the gold bikini bottoms, didn't break stride. Another spike of hot pleasure shot into him. The girl was too skilled. He needed a break.

"Get your leash!"

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Was she sucking James, or was he fucking her mouth? The distinction was blurred, pointless. Insistent man flesh surged past her lips, lingered, then withdrew. Alternately gagging then gasping for breath, Khym fought to continue. For every thought of pulling back, escaping the assault, a whisper of lust urged her on. She needed this man.

And the older man, was he her new master, or merely having his fun? Was using her mouth so roughly his way his way of claiming her as his, or just enjoying a wet, willing hole?

The leash. James' command cut through her trance. Why hadn't she brought it with the collar? Khym initially was torn between fetching the leash and continuing to offer up her mouth. The request, however, was clear. Khym stumbled to her feet and back to the bedroom. Where was it?

Frantically, she tore through the nightstand. Saliva dripped from her chin and breasts as Khym rummaged past drawers full of trinkets, depleted batteries, and jewelry. At last her fingers brushed across supple leather. Khym pressed the leash to her face, taking in the sweet scent, full of promise. She took it to him.

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The little gamble paid off. Eyes wide, Khym scrambled back to the bedroom. Of course she had a leash. Even if she hadn't, James simply would have used a piece of rope or his belt. She needed to be controlled.

The older man settled back onto the little room's couch. The place gave the appearance of being mostly a shambles, with just enough cleared space for the yoga mat. He knocked a few splayed magazines and other debris from the couch. Nothing should get in his way.

When Khym returned, James wasted no time fastening the leash to her collar. She kept her eyes on the floor as he ran his hands over her ripe body. Lazily, he hooked an arm behind her and dragged the brunette to his lap. With the collar and leash hung behind her, it was a simple matter to tug her neck back. Responding to the motion, Khym arched her neck back and her chest forward. Her breasts were his to explore.

They were beautiful. James with his free hand cupped one full breast and tugged it to his mouth. He tongued it eagerly, roughly. Khym wriggled against him, but with his hand locked behind her back holding the leash tight she had nowhere to go. James sucked, nibbled, then bit the girl's nipple.

"Oh, oh master," she groaned.

The more he abused her the more aroused James became. Khym's panting response to his rough treatment signaled her complete acceptance of their relationship. She was his to do with as he wished. Switching to her other breast James sucked hard, drawing her nipple between his teeth. Any other woman, any woman James had ever taken to bed, would have cursed him, complaining of his incompetence. Khym just groaned, grinding her hips against him. The girl's neck strained against the heavy collar, highlighting her tender flesh. He was devouring her.

Her bikini bottom annoyed him. The fabric was rough against his cock as Khym gyrated. Why was she still wearing it? James pushed her back.

"Bottoms off now," he said roughly.

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Khym teetered, half falling. James' push unbalanced her, while the tension on the leash kept her from righting herself. With one knee still on the couch and the other leg flailing, she tried to get a grip on the bikini bottom. Her hand brushed at the fabric but slipped. If only he would let up on the leash.