Owned Pt. 02

Owned Pt. 02

soppingwetpanties

This story stands alone, though it will give this story greater context if you read the first story.

Dedicated to jim, who wishes he was Franklin, and to scott, and his pantyhose fetish.

This story contains watersports. Please skip this story if this doesn't "float" your boat.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

Franklin rubbed his eyes, trying to focus, waking up in a strange place ... at the foot of the bed of Madeline Kennedy, a partner at the law firm he joined less than a year ago as a new associate. Madeline was still blissfully asleep. Franklin realized that he was wearing a studded dog collar, and was tethered by a leather leash clipped to an eye hook conveniently installed on one of the legs of her bed. He was sporting an erection that was painful. He noticed there were light bruises on his forearms and a long scratch across his chest. He ran his fingers across the scratch. It was still sensitive to the touch.

His memory was blurry -- he remembered during the previous few days that Madeline managed to extract a confession that he had lusted after her during their business meetings, and then willingly submitted to her. The haze started to clear as he looked out the bedroom window, seeing a lakeside setting, the glass-like water shimmering with the reflection of the early morning sun. He was somewhere in upstate New York -- at her family's retreat, she said.

The second floor bedroom was spacious, with knotty pine floors, hard and worn smooth from years of use, rustic furniture, and wall hangings and rugs reminiscent of Native American art. He could see a large expanse of lawn between the house and the thin strip of sandy beach, and a long dock with a few small boats tied to it. The double hung window was half open, welcoming a cool lake breeze that raised goosebumps on his naked body.

He looked at Madeline again. She told the other associates on the merger deal they were working on that there was unfinished business in Albany, but the only unfinished business was apparently training him to realize his hidden dream to experience "non-conventional" forms of sex. She was his North Star now, and he enthusiastically discarded his former vanilla life for the excitement of being with her.

His erection started throbbing when he lifted his head higher so he could see Madeline sprawled out on the king size bed, having kicked off most of her covers, and revealing her sheer nightgown, transparent enough for Franklin to drink in her 34DD size breasts, with areolas the size of a half dollar and long, hard nubby nipples. His hand went down to stroke his raging hardon as he studied the outline of her dark pubic patch. His eyes swept across her long shapely legs, the red polish on her toenails, and the pleasing curve of her thighs and calves. He couldn't believe that he was some sort of sex slave to this beautiful woman, who also happened to be his boss.

Franklin felt a dull ache in his biceps. His arms were sore from moving furniture from the small barn adjoining the house. Madeline was hosting a "party" that night, and Franklin helped clean the house and then carry in the extra furniture to accommodate the expected number of guests, which she of course didn't disclose, other than to say it was a "few."

There was a nagging soreness in his butt, and a touch from his fingers confirmed that he was wearing a medium size butt plug. He remembered that she had him wear a smaller one on the ride up, and that the previous evening she gave him a larger one to wear overnight.

He shifted the position of the plug in his ass and the incessant, throbbing pain subsided for a few moments. This pain was a constant reminder that he was owned by this woman. He snickered when he thought he, an Ivy league trained lawyer, would agree to a contract he hadn't read. Having a woman who you dreamed of a sex Goddess asking you to share her bed overwhelmed any rational judgment he might have had.

She rolled over on her side, oblivious to the fact that Franklin was at the foot of the bed staring at her. He was afraid of waking her, figuring he'd get some sort of whipping for being an insolent slut if he did so. He shimmied his body slowly until he was curled up again against her feet. She let out a contented sigh when he gave her foot a gentle massage through the covers.

She was half awake when Franklin started to massage her foot. Her first hazy thought of the day was that Franklin was a fortunate and unexpected discovery. It had been over two years since Chad left the practice of law ... and her ... to be with her former best friend, Grace Montero. Former best friend, because Chad's departure was completely unexpected. Grace and Chad had never let on that they were having an affair, and Madeline found out when she discovered that Chad's room in her house was completely cleaned out, leaving her without even a note.

Franklin's presence was soothing the wound that hadn't yet fully healed. Grace was a Mistress as well, and Madeline and Grace formed a close friendship over the years. They occasionally loaned their subs to each other or looked after them for each other. Grace was the opposite of Madeline in appearance, a tall, thin blonde with "A" cup breasts. Madeline didn't realize that Grace and Chad starting seeing each other while Chad played the part of her obedient and loyal sub.

Madeline resolved not to make the same mistakes with Franklin that she made with Chad. Over time, they became close and it was Madeline who broke discipline and allowed Chad too much freedom. She told herself that she was going to be strict with Franklin, not just because he wanted it, but because she acknowledged her own weaknesses. It took her that full two years to recover from the shock of Chad's departure to be with her former best friend. She used to talk with Grace almost every day, and hadn't spoken a word to her since Chad's clean break.

Madeline covered her face by shifting the covers so Franklin couldn't see her smile when his touch tickled her foot. He was young and eager. There were a few of her friends that she wanted him to meet. He was her shiny new toy and she wanted to show him off. Two long years since Chad. A brilliant tax attorney who was also a piece of shit. Madeline didn't know Franklin well before she took him in, but she still trusted her instincts, and her instincts told her that he would be everything Chad wasn't.

Franklin was startled when his new Mistress, presumably asleep, spoke to him in a melodic voice.

"Good morning slut."

So that would be his name, he thought. Fitting. He was happy he was her slut. He watched her sit up, and couldn't help but fix his stare on her magnificent breasts. She of course watched his eyes and knew exactly what he was looking at and what he was thinking.

Franklin's memory was hazy about the previous evening. He remembered people coming over late, and that one of the guests brought a few joints which were passed around. Franklin hadn't smoked since he was in college, and wasn't accustomed to the strength of the new hybrids that were being sold. The rest of the evening was a cloudy recollection of arms, legs, body parts and euphoria. He wondered again how he obtained the bruises and the scratch.

Madeline felt a stickiness between her legs and remembered that she too had passed out after too much weed, wine, and sex. Her recollections of the previous evening were fuzzy at best, but she did remember that it was James, or maybe it was Raphael, who was fucking her while her new toy was licking his ass, cock and balls. A smile came across her face when she remembered she had saved a treat for him for breakfast.

She sat up in the bed, resting against the headboard and lifted her knees up and spread them apart. She bunched her nightgown around her waist, revealing her sex, still matted with cum.

"Come here pet. I have a treat for you," she beckoned. Franklin's ears perked up at hearing the word "treat" and looked between his Mistress's legs for his reward. Her labia was still red and puffy from the previous evening's festivities, and a small dollop of cum was dripping out.

Franklin didn't remember having intercourse with Madeline and was fairly certain the "treat" was another man's cum. He was horrified at the thought of eating another man's cum. But he couldn't take his eyes off the growing white splotch seeping from her pussy. He was revulsed by the thought, and started to speak.

"Mistress ... I ..."

Madeline could see his morbid fascination and hesitancy in his eyes, and interrupted him before he got himself in more trouble.

"But of course if you want to leave now ..." she said dismissively. Her eyes met Franklin's. She made sure he was looking at hers. He wanted her instantly, and realized he would do anything for her, even if he found it utterly humiliating to do so. His insatiable need to please her obliterated his moral compass.

The leash was long enough to let Franklin snuggle his head between his Mistress's soft, lily white thighs and dip his nose into the cum oozing out from between her legs. The gamey odor stung his nose -- the ammonia like smell of a stranger's cum -- followed by an odor of earthy sweetness from the center of Franklin's universe -- his Mistress's cunt.

His cock was rock hard. He found that being humiliated excited him. Only a man who would walk to the ends of the Earth for his Mistress would put his manhood aside and willingly eat the spunk of another man from the pussy of his Mistress. He was that man. He inched even closer, taking all the slack out of his dog leash, and moving his lips over hers, so puffy and soft, and tonguing and slurping the stream of cum so his Mistress could hear the sounds of his obedience.

"I was sure you'd see it my way, slut," Madeline told Franklin in a haughty voice. She said it for her own satisfaction as she squeezed his head with her thighs. With his ears smashed between her legs, all he could hear only muffled sounds. His attentions were focused elsewhere anyway, giving a long French kiss to her pussy.

"Eat it pet ... it's all for you," she told him. Though Franklin didn't acknowledge her, he was starting to enjoy his chore. He was licking his Mistress's pussy, and it was as wonderful and delicious as he imagined. He stabbed at the fragments of white cum leaking out of her cunt, and then went further down, rimming her asshole to retrieve the cum that dripped down.

"Mmmm, that's a good pet."

It was utterly depraved. Franklin had never eaten the cum of another man, but he had now and didn't want to stop. He could sense that his Mistress was on the verge of a climax. He felt her fingers teasing his scalp as he brushed the flat of his tongue against her fragrant cunt, smelling the heady aroma of her earthiness mixed with the faint ammonia tinge of her lover's cum. Her hips raised up from the bed as his licks and nibbles became more determined, sucking, and when he used his fingers to dig out the remnants of yesterday's spend, she started to gasp.

"Yes ... uhhh ... uhhh ... slut ... no ... FUCKKKKK!"

She used her hands to crush his face into her spasming pussy. Franklin had no choice but to finger and lick her until she released him.

"That's good, slut," she finally managed to say as her hips relaxed and fell to the bed.

The praise gave him another warm glow, but he was left with mixed feelings. He so wanted to please his Mistress, but to have to eat another man's cum ...

* * *

"No ... no ... not like that," Madeline chided her new sub. She had spent the last half hour teaching Franklin how to paint her toenails, with limited success. "Honestly, my pet, you were much better doing legal research than you are at this ... and your research skills were only average at best."

Franklin used nail polish remover to erase his poor job, and started over for the third time. He had never handled a nail polish brush before, and Madeline's exacting standards, and her withering looks, made it almost impossible for him to master this new skill. He would have rather endured the largest butt plug than the torture of painting Madeline's toenails.

He was wearing a pair of cheap pink pantyhose and the dog collar and nothing else. He was expected to wear this outfit whenever they were by themselves. He tugged on the crotch of the panties, as they were squeezing his balls every time he moved. Stupid nail polish. He had it smeared all over his hands, and smelled of nail polish remover.

Madeline wished for a moment that Chad was with her. He always did an immaculate job, but then the image of him servicing her traitorous friend calmed her nerves for a moment instead of scolding Franklin yet again. She held her foot out and wiggled her toes, signaling Franklin to start over.

Franklin's experience with women (other than the exploratory groping in high school) was limited to a few unmemorable one night stands and his one longer term relationship with a fellow tax associate that lasted for three whole months. The associate, Rona Meyers, was barely over five foot tall and flat chested. She was a wizard with the Internal Revenue Code and a great conversationalist in a cocktail party, but her physical assets matched her interest in sex, which was next to none. Franklin only slept with her a handful of times, and being a big man, he could barely find her underneath him. Franklin's submissive side, and his interest in big tits, weren't satisfied in the least. Franklin was the one to break it off.

Then Franklin joined Madeline's team, and his whole world changed. He was continually distracted by her appearance, and when she spoke in that deep, authoritative voice, he had goosebumps on his arms. She had the big, beautiful breasts he pictured and the take charge attitude he craved. She also knew the Internal Revenue Code a hell of a lot better than Franklin did. Even Franklin would admit he got a bit of a sexual charge over the latter.

Franklin was concentrating on keeping the polish in the right places. He squinted so he could see the exact line of the brush. After fifteen excruciating minutes, he finished.

Madeline stood up and looked down at her freshly painted toenails, a wicked shade of red.

"Good job slut," she said, though there was no eye contact. Franklin kept his eyes trained on the floor, where they belonged. But she knew he heard her praise and a shiver went through him -- the feeling of a big, warm, fuzzy blanket. He loved the feeling, a cocoon of pleasure encasing his submissive body.

* * *

Madeline did some work on her computer while her nail polish dried. Madeline wanted to make sure she looked absolutely perfect for her guests that night. Franklin was crouched under the antique desk with a small, battery operated fan, blowing air across the wet polish. Franklin was a big man, so capture the image of a man stuffed into a crate and you get the picture of how much room Franklin had to maneuver.

"You're right," Madeline said to the associate on the other end of the line. She recrossed her legs to offer Franklin the other set of toenails to dry, "but if you look at the regulations under IRC Section 482, you'll find that the allocation study performed by their accounting firm wouldn't stand up to IRS scrutiny."

After a good five minutes of discussion on the intricacies of Section 482, Madeline offered her foot for Franklin to kiss. The cramping pain in his back temporarily subsided as he eyed her foot, studying the tendons and veins as if he was studying in a work of art he wanted to commit to memory. He planted a wet kiss on the top of her foot.

" ... so you agree with me, then? Yeah ... I'm sure that Letter Ruling I told you about will do the trick."

"Yeah ... see you tomorrow."

She stood up and slipped her feet into her new high heel sandals. Franklin overhead that they cost close to $1,000, and that she was dying to show them off to her girlfriends. He saw them on her. They were Misty Glitter sandals by Jimmy Choo. Her shoe store had just got them in. She looked magnificent in them. A little bit of glitz and a lot of sex. She had the thin legs of a woman much smaller breasted than her, and the lift of the shoe gave Franklin a massive hard on.

"How do I look?" she asked him, very interested in his opinion.

"You'll be the belle of the ball, Mistress," Franklin said, his voice glowing with admiration.

"Of course I will be," Madeline said dismissively, though inside she was relieved she met with Franklin's approval. Chad was becoming a fading memory of a bad hurt, long ago.

* * *

Madeline made a few phone calls and dismissed Franklin to attend to the last minute party preparations. Franklin was busy filling the water urn with ice and mixing his signature cocktail that was a variant of a martini. The doorbell rang announcing the arrival of the first guest to Franklin's coming out party. It was Gina Porchetti, Madeline's roommate in New York when she was attending NYU to obtain a Masters in Taxation. Gina was a lesbian, as was Madeline's preferred persuasion. Madeline and Gina were an item for a few months, but their attraction to each other gave way to Madeline's wandering eye. Madeline had no issue with attracting men, and she had first succumbed to bedding as many men as she could before she discovered her true lust in dominating them. Gina was amused by and tolerated Madeline's lifestyle, but not enough for the two to stay together. Madeline still valued Gina's friendship and opinion, as it was Gina who warned Madeline that she might not be seeing Chad for his true self. Gina was much smaller than Madeline with jet black hair and a curvy body.

The bell rang again. Madeline cried out from the upstairs bedroom, "Franklin! Are you going to get it?"

Franklin was uncertain what he was supposed to do when there was a knock at the door. They had never discussed that detail. When Madeline shouted, he jumped for the front door, opening it before realizing that he wasn't wearing any pants, or for that matter a shirt. Guests weren't supposed to arrive for fifteen more minutes and Franklin had planned to get dressed after he straightened up the party space, so as not to dirty his new clothes. He was so used to being virtually naked by now that he didn't think about it when he answered the door.

Gina eyes raised a bit and she looked Franklin up and down as he stood there, unsure of what to do.

"You ... wouldn't happen to know if Madeline Kennedy lives here, would you Sir?" Gina was unflappable, but she did notice was Franklin was well endowed though his sheer pink pantyhose.

"Yes ... yes ma'am," Franklin answered, using his hands to hurriedly cover his crotch.

"Then you must be Franklin, I've heard so much about you ... and from what I've seen so far much of it is true," she quipped. She held out her hand.

He reached out to hold her hand so he could kiss it and realized he couldn't cover everything. Gina finally let him off her hook.

"Relax Franklin, Madeline's had a few subs when we were still together."

"You were together?" Franklin asked, wishing that he didn't say out loud what he'd been thinking.

Gina laughed. "You didn't know?" She wiggled her ass and brushed it against Franklin's cock as she walked by. "Aren't you going to offer me a drink?" she asked, coquettishly.