My Story of Becoming Owned

I feel like I must be the luckiest, and most cursed, person in the world. Lucky, because I have found the most amazing man. Someone who cares about me, knows me, accepts everything I am. Cursed because my life situation, and society in general, does not allow me to publicly be the person I am. Fortunately, I don't have to worry about society. With him, I can be that person. He knows me. He knows what I need. He is exactly what I need.

Some people say that like calls to like. Others say opposites attract. I have found that both types of people are right. In this, as in so many other things, of course I had a choice, but for me the choice was obvious. It just sort of... happened. It was like a gentle tug pulling us to each other. It's almost hard to tell who made the first move. Almost three months ago, I noticed him showing an interest and dropped a hint, but didn't really follow through on it. I enjoy being flirty, but wasn't trying to make anything happen.

More than a month ago, we had lunch together with another coworker. I didn't talk much and neither did he. I found myself unsettled by him, completely unable to speak or make eye contact. I wanted to show him a picture of my dragon tattoo he'd caught a glimpse of before and expressed interest in seeing in full, but I couldn't gather the courage. He didn't seem as interested. I wasn't sure he even liked me. As it turns out, he was watching me, and waiting. He knew I would come to him, and he was right.

— Less than two weeks ago, on a Tuesday, I was discussing my tattoos and my intent to improve my guitar-playing skills with a coworker. Then he walked by, overheard, and offered to help me learn, as he was helping another coworker. Normally, I would have thanked him and declined the offer. I'm terribly self-conscious about playing music or doing anything that draws attention to myself, like singing in front of people, and I don't like people to see me do something that I'm not good at, even if it means I could improve. For some reason, I decided to show some steel and take him up on his offer.

— The next day, Wednesday, he sent me a chat asking if I was busy. I said no, and that I actually was meaning to send him a message to discuss lessons. This time, his tone was friendly, almost flirtatious, so I responded accordingly. We decided we both had some time, so we met in the break room and discussed practice methods. Although I was still self-conscious, I actually felt very comfortable with him. After that, he sent me a message asking if that helped, and I said it did.

Then we got on the topic of tattoos, and how I was working on a concept for a new one. I said I had three similar ideas, and asked for his opinion. All of the concepts included a fairy in a posture that made a statement about my submissive nature, but one was significantly more obvious, and also showed my enjoyment of BDSM. It displayed the fairy, wrists and ankles bound in chains. This eliminated any doubt in his mind about me, although I'm not sure there ever was any doubt. He seems to know me surprisingly well. He knew everything about me before I even told him. I sent him a picture of my other tattoo, the rose on my back that signifies my masochistic nature, and decided to tell him what it meant. He was surprised I hadn't gone with an unopened white rose bud for submission, but I explained that it was from a book, and that it was more for masochism, not submission.

During this conversation, he told me that he could tell I was a sub without a Dom. That he'd known since we'd had lunch several weeks ago. I was shocked and intrigued. He asked if I'd ever taken a sub survey, which I hadn't, so he sent me one. We were still talking in the sense of "if this goes anywhere." Somehow, it turned into a given. When I finally showed him the dragon, which doesn't really signify anything, but displays my entire body, he switched into full Dom mode and told me the next picture had better be without the swimsuit. Part of being a good sub is anticipating my Dom's desires, and I sent him the nude pic right as he was asking. From that moment, he became "Sir," and I became owned again - or maybe for the first time ever. He informed me that I would complete the checklist that night and wear a skirt the next day.

— On Thursday, I wore the skirt. First thing in the morning, I received a message saying to take off my panties and bring them to his desk, where they would remain in his pocket. Going without panties made me very wet. Of course, then I had to have a meeting with my boss, during which I had to force myself to concentrate on what he was saying and not the fact that I was feeling like a deliciously dirty little whore.

At lunch, we drove to a nearby park. In the backseat of his truck, he told me to lie across his lap. He stroked my skin, up my legs, across my ass, then spanked me hard. Ah! I hadn't been spanked in so long, but I had missed it. He continued, increasing in force. I attempted to control my responses, but I cried out and my already wet pussy became so slick. He paused, running his hands over my warm, reddened backside, then continued, even harder now. I couldn't count the strikes, couldn't focus enough to realize that, although I was enjoying the sensation, my ass was going to be more than red if I didn't stop him. I wondered briefly if he was trying to find my limit, and what I would do if he does. It didn't occur to me that we hadn't discussed a safe word. I wasn't afraid, and I was enjoying the sensation of pain, the feeling of his big, strong hands in control of my body, his words in control of my mind, his scent embedded in my memory forever, and the only thing I could think is that I never wanted to leave this place.

His hand traveled down, parting my slit and plunging a finger deep inside me. He knew right where to push, exactly how hard. He placed a finger on my clit and he had me going crazy for him. At the sight of my red ass and the wet evidence of my arousal at his hands, he decided he had to take all of me, more than he had planned. He pushed me up to suck his cock, which turned out to be a very nice size, thick and delicious. After a few minutes of that, he told me to kneel on the seat. I brace myself and he shoved his cock inside me, fucking me so hard. As I felt his cock pulse inside me and fill me with his cum, I came so hard around him. With that, I got my panties back. I pulled them on, feeling them become wet as our mingled juices trickled out of me. My muscles were sore from exertion, the force of being stretched taut as I came over and over turning to weakness and complete muscle fatigue as the day wore on. My legs felt like jello.

That afternoon, as he noted I had indicated on my list that I had never tried a butt plug but was curious about it, my instructions were to purchase one by the end of the weekend, and obtain his approval before making a final decision. I was too eager to wait until the end of the weekend, so I bought one that night, along with some new lubricant. I was told to bring the plug to work the next day, and every day from now on. Carrying toys around with me was something I'd never done before.

— Friday, faced with this unusual challenge, I decided the plug was small enough by itself to be kept discreet, but there was no way I could bring the bottle of lube. Once again, first thing in the morning, I was instructed to remove my panties. This time, he came and got them from my desk. He told me to try to focus on work, and not to make my skirt too wet. The verbal mind games combined with the constant reminder that I'm wet because my missing panties are in his possession kept me sufficiently distracted.

A little while later, he told me to put the plug in. So, for the first time ever, I concealed it and headed for the bathroom, where I sucked on it and slipped it in my pussy to get it wet, then eased it slowly, bit by bit, into my ass. It stretched, somewhat uncomfortably, but once I got it in, it was okay. After a few minutes back at my desk, my tight little asshole started to throb. A few minutes later, my pussy was throbbing. Eventually, he told me to take it out. Before lunch, he returned my panties.

Later, he asked me what kind of lube I used. When I told him I hadn't used any, he decided punishment was in order for endangering myself. Using only saliva was not enough to keep me from tearing and possibly injuring myself, and I was flippant about the fact that I was tough and I had never used lube for anal play. As punishment, I was to put the plug back in and attempt to keep it for the two and a half hours until I went home. Walking around work with it in felt so naughty, and I almost made it the rest of the afternoon. But pleasant throbbing eventually turned to extreme discomfort. I had to admit I couldn't take it anymore, and I was allowed to remove it. Even through all that, he was so attentive to me, checking on me to make sure I was still doing okay. Over the weekend, I was given instructions to come up with a name for him to call me, a list of names for him to choose from, something for me to know I was his. I recognized this as a great privilege, as he could just as easily have chosen something derogatory and made me earn a nicer name.

— I earned my first strike today. I failed to show the proper respect in a response to him, reverting to the way I talk to everyone else and saying "sure." I have been lacking training, and was not raised to say Sir, so I am unaccustomed to it. Neither of these are an excuse, and I accept the correction willingly, as I want to improve, and I have a great desire to show him that respect, that I value him and will never treat him as I would anyone else.

The next day, Saturday, there was a company picnic for employees and their families. I decided the wisest thing to do would be nothing, so I tried as hard as I could. I finally checked my phone, to find out he had complimented my appearance and was missing having my panties in his pocket. He began calling me "pet," which I found I quite enjoyed, so I added it to my list (which also included kitten, angel, little girl, and babygirl). No one had ever called me by a nickname before, except the pseudonyms I'd given myself, and I rather liked the one he'd started using, so rather than give myself yet another name, I requested the one he'd chosen to use.

— Sunday, we chatted back and forth, getting to know each other. I slipped back into feeling too personal, and earned my second strike, again flippantly responding "nope" to something inconsequential. Punishment at three strikes. I don't look forward to punishment, but I know that it will happen during training. I was hoping it would not come to this quite so quickly, but I know myself and my personal failings, and I will deserve this when it happens.

— Monday morning, although I am typically shaved anyway, I had been instructed to shave my pussy, front and back, and do a good job, so I woke up a little early and gave myself over to a thorough grooming. I wore a dress to work, and brought my plug. I had bought some discreet carrying cases over the weekend for my toys, so I was able to bring my lube now as well. That turned out to be a good thing, because my training was to begin in earnest this week, and I would need it at all times. Discomfort with the idea faded along with the physical discomfort, and soon I looked at it as an extension of him and a sign of his attention. Once again, my panties had a place in his pocket, and I found myself wet and wanting him all the time.

That afternoon, we met in a parking lot for him to return my panties, verify that I had shaved and inspect my handiwork. I climbed into his passenger seat and slid my skirt up. After stroking me all over, making me twitch, he started working my clit. He rubbed me hard and fast, making me cum over and over. I leaned over the center console to suck him, and found out how far I could take a cock down my throat, and for how long, and it was fucking awesome. I love being able to create pleasure in a way that no one else probably ever has. The feeling of his hand on the back of my head, forcing his cock further into my throat, is a sensation unlike any other, and I love knowing that he loved it. And I know he loved it because he did it again and again, until tears were streaming from my eyes from lack of air, and finally my mouth was filled with his cum, shooting straight down my throat, hot in my stomach.

After that, he had me lean back my seat and make myself come one more time, eyes still watering. And I did, moaning loudly, my voice made rougher by the treatment of my throat and the cum that had coated it moments earlier. With that, my panties were returned, replaced on me by him this time.

I was lightheaded with pleasure, in such a good mood that afternoon, that I was entirely unguarded in my responses to him, skirting the line of disrespect with my joking attitude. He threatened me with strike three, but I think he was in a good mood as well. In regards to training, throughout the day, I have caught myself a few times responding incorrectly and corrected myself, sending follow-up messages quickly.

— Tuesday was my birthday. He came to work early with the intention of surprising me by bending me over my desk. I had worn a short skirt, and my panties came off early at his direction. Unfortunately, we didn't have the building to ourselves; another of my coworkers was less than 50 feet down the hall. To my delight, he bent me over my desk and finger-fucked me anyway. Two of his big fingers deep inside me, I had to bite my lip and hold my breath to keep from making any of the strangled sounds I was in danger of allowing to escape me.

At lunchtime, we escaped to the park again. I lay across his lap as he stroked my skin, massaging my muscles. He duct-taped my hands together, and then secured them to the door. Now helpless, I writhed uncontrollably on his lap, moaning and crying out as he mixed pleasure and pain in equal doses, rubbing my pussy and spanking it lightly, then spanking my ass just hard enough to sting.

Still occasionally typing responses without the appropriate respect, I catch myself and retype my answer before sending; so, progress.

— Wednesday again, has it only been a week since that first conversation? He came to work early again, and once again we are not alone, damn! Panties off, plug in; he wants to touch it. He came around the corner motioning for me to stand and bend over. When I did, he pulled my skirt up, grabbed the plug, and surprisingly, started playing with it! Twisting, tugging, driving me over the edge. He swirled it and pulled it out as I inhaled and sank my teeth into my lower lip. Thrusting gently with it, finally pushing it all the way back inside me. I was already throbbing, pleasantly this time, my pulse hard against the plug.

At lunch, he decided to find out how much of his hand I can take, since I enjoy fisting but he has large hands. Turns out, I can fit most of his hand without any problem, and the rest will only take a little work, which I will enjoy fully. After this, we fucked in a great sitting position, me on top with my back facing him, legs together, him holding my weight and effortlessly bouncing me up and down the full length of his cock, thrusting so deep, and I'm feeling every delicious inch of him. After he came, he lifted me off and a few drops of cum hit the floor. As a slave, I would have been required to clean it, no questions asked. Well, this relationship isn't really defined quite that way, and I've never been a slave. I should have cleaned it anyway. He quickly wiped it up with a workout towel, but later we were texting and yesterday I had mentioned how I tasted his cum from inside me after, and I forgot he said he wanted me to do that next time we were together, and he said he should have made me clean up the drips.

Well, I said I'm not licking his floor. He did not appreciate me telling him what I was not going to do. I, partially joking, partially meant it in the context of still getting to know each other, but I was not respectful and did not put it in the appropriate terms. I knew the second I said it that it did not come out right, but it was too late, he wasn't going to be able to let me talk to him like that; I knew it as well as he did. He hasn't talked to me all evening, and tomorrow I'll probably get the spanking of my life, or not be allowed to cum, or have to wear the plug all day. I don't know, because he won't talk to me, and I'm sure that's part of it also.

— I'm still wearing my panties. It feels wrong, like I'm missing out on something. This morning, I ran into him in the breakroom. It's hard to see him around work and not act like anything is going on anyway, like I want to rub up against him and feel his hand in my hair, but this... I want to throw myself to my knees and beg him to punish me. I couldn't sleep last night. I've had to restrain myself from sending too many messages, being too needy, but I was comforted when he said it was hard on him too. This is a lesson I don't wish to repeat. We get out of work early today. We were planning to get a good amount of time together at the park. I hope that still happens.

After work, we did meet at the park. He hugged me tight, bone-cracking tight like he always does and told me not to tell him no again. Then we had a mind-blowing 2 hours of fucking, sucking, spanking (ass and pussy), plugging, and cuddling, and all is right with my world again. When he spanked my pussy over my very wet panties, he ended up building up hard enough that I needed to call a color, and he left a tiny bruise.

I find myself becoming more accustomed to the appropriate verbal responses. Occasionally though, I know what the appropriate submissive response is, and I know that if I say it, it will not be me. In the interest of total honesty, I have to be true to myself, and that means not being blandly submissive, even if that means punishment. Occasional punishment is a good thing. The intent is not to change who I am, but simply to make me a better person, to make my gift of submission that much more valuable, and that is something I desire and appreciate.

— Finally. It's been a lo-o-ong weekend, five excruciating days, and I've tried so hard to be patient. I've been looking forward to this so bad. Not sure exactly what's going to happen, but I know tomorrow is going to be one long, amazing day, meeting at the hotel. Today he wasn't at work, but my panties came off and went in my drawer at his direction.

— I arrived first at the hotel. I laid out all my toys on a table near the bed and stripped off my clothes. As he came through the door, I knelt at the foot of the bed. Having no restrictions on eye contact, I gazed at him. I could see the heat in his eyes. He's been waiting for this as long as I have. He sat behind me on the bed. Tilting my head, his teeth sank into my neck, tasting me as his hands traveled my body. "Such a pretty little pet. I think you've seen enough for now." He slips a blindfold over my eyes. My eyesight now dark, I could hear him moving around the room. He moves quickly. I heard him move around the bed a few times.

Finally stopping in front of me, he lifts my right hand. I heard velcro, and felt a soft cuff secured around my wrist. My left wrist received the same adornment. He continued to move around the room. Finally, "Stand up, pet." He led me around the bed. He sat down and pulled me close. He bit one of my nipples, then the other, his hands travelling over my body. He lifted me effortlessly, turned around, and deposited me on the bed. Now completely disoriented, I felt my hips raised up. I had been placed on a stack of pillows. My back formed the perfect arch.

He pulled my left foot out to the side, as far as I could stretch. Another soft cuff was placed around my ankle, and I was secured to some kind of restraint off the left side of the bed. I heard him walk around the bed. My right leg was stretched to the other edge of the bed, and I felt another cuff and restraint on the right side. Now my arms, first the right, then the left, attached to the restraints and cinched down.