The First Steps in Being an Owned Slut Pt. 01

"What would they have done if they knew? Would they have been pleased?"

Trying to think was hard but I tried. "I think it would have frightened them. They would have looked upon me as a slut I think and not liked that. I think they would have given me the push, find someone more demure."

"You certainly are not demure. On the surface you can pretend. But what are you?"

"A wanton slut Sir."

"Yes. And an owned one. I want you as you are. I don't want you as demure. Well, sometimes. I want the slut in you. I want to use all your talents. Can you accept that?"

"Yes Sir. Here with you. Now you have made me realise, what you can make me do, what I want." I saw myself in his hands and felt desire and sudden panic. "In my normal life not at work or with my friends, I need to hide it there, but I do want these feeling again, often. I accept what you've made me realise I am underneath, I... I enjoy being submissive."

"Good." He grinned. "I will accept some of your reservations but I will set your limits within what I think are reasonable, but you need to fully accept them and what you are when with me."

"Yes Sir. I will."

In the mall I held his hand and kept my other by my side with difficulty. I wanted to be good but it was difficult. Although logically I knew that nobody else knew I wasn't wearing any underwear, the smell in my nostrils, the fact that my nipples were rock hard and obvious, plus the knowledge that I could see men checking out my bouncing tits all the time made it seem that everyone knew. I wondered if they knew what my collar signified.

As we walked he told me to describe to him what a slut wore as underwear.

"I guess, stockings and suspenders. Basques and corsets. Reds and blacks. Fishnet stockings perhaps." Suddenly I felt giggly.

In a department store he bought me stockings, including fish net stockings, hold-ups and a black and a red suspender belt. I'd only worn one once and found it a trifle more uncomfortable than tights but I was very aware that, with him, tights were a no-no from now on. I was beginning to feel spoilt with his gifts and also a little excited looking constantly at lingerie with him. He bought me lots of tiny knickers that, although I thought were suitable only for hot dates he made me understand were now normal day wear. The rest, all the non sexy ones had to go.

We went out of the mall to a small shop, not a department store where I normally buy my wholesome bras either, but a little back street specialist lingerie shop. He obviously knew where he was going.

As we entered a woman in her forties was fiddling with her hair and said hello. We were the only ones there. I became very conscious of the smell in my nose, on my face.

"I would like to see the underwear that we discussed the other day, please." The woman looked at him and then at me. I blushed. He'd been planning this I realised.

The woman took her tape measure and measured below and across my tits. Just to be sure. Yes, it's just a 34c. She measured my waist and hips at the same time before I was ushered toward a changing room at the rear and left to stand alone while she spoke to Michael. I could still smell myself as I breathed.

I watched as she collected a selection of things wrapped in tissue paper. The bras ranged in colours from black through red to white. The colours were not the thing I noticed as she unfolded them and held them in front me, again obviously more for Michael to see than me. One was simply quarter bra, it would leave my nipples totally on view, one had holes for my nipples, one was totally sheer. All would leave me exposed in some way or another.

A pile was placed on the chair outside the changing room. They both looked at me. Could they smell me? I was very self-conscious and worried. I wondered if it was simply on my face or elsewhere too. The woman held out a bra. I went to pull the curtain but she interrupted.

"No, do it here so I can make adjustments.You can keep your collar on." I stood staring at her, then Michael, my face burning with embarrassment. "Be a good girl for me and do as I tell you. Don't be naughty or Michael will not be pleased." I blushed deeper. I wanted to be a good girl, but she would see me, see my tits. She must know I wasn't even wearing a bra. Be a good girl. Naughty. for Michael. The words ran around my head. Did the woman know? Did she understand the collar?

I looked at the covered window, the board covering the outside display, the very tops of heads walking by. Would anyone else come in? Gingerly I lifted the top higher and higher until I pulled it over my head exposing my tits, feeling them bounce free. I held it in front of me, until I saw Michael shaking his head discreetly. I saw her eyes feed on my body as I lowered it but I couldn't keep eye contact as she lifted hers to my face. God I hoped nobody would come in. I took the proffered bra and slipped it on. The quarter bra fit snugly, tightly even, under my tits and pushed them up as if I was offering them. I wanted to cover myself but took my hands away, displaying the hard nipples sticking out far too proudly. I was so embarrassed, shamed. I looked at the floor. I could feel a sudden nudge of excitement. My thoughts left me with a fluttering stomach as I put on, and took off, different bras for them to see how I looked in them. At times, with different bras and without ceremony, the woman pulled back the cups and reorganised me, my flesh, my tits, laying them neatly on display. Each time I gasped and felt my face burn.

Two larger garments were brought out. These were handed to me and I was expected to try them on. They stood there waiting. It would also mean my skirt this time. I didn't know if I could. I looked up at Michael. He smiled. I unzipped my skirt, slid it down, and stepped from it trying to keep my body from shaking. He nodded judiciously. I was so pleased that he understood my fear but now I was bared. I was standing virtually naked! Now I was being examined like an animal at market. She would have noticed the lack of knickers, my shaven mound! I held my arms at my sides, frightened to cover myself, my little girl slut slit. I was shocked by my behaviour, what I was doing, what I accepted I must do. Now I really felt like a slut naked in front of clothed people, not just Michael.

Quickly, with her assistance I put on the red cincher but the garment covered nothing and was very tight. Again my tits were offered, displayed over black lace and red satin, my mound seemed to push up below. I had to turn around to display my bottom, my arse. It was a part of me that I was unsure of even covered. I thought it overlarge. Not fat, certainly, or droopy, but I would have preferred the roundness of my buttocks just a little smaller. That thought crossed my mind as I looked at the wall listening to their discussion behind me. I was turned again and I looked at the ground as they continued. I was virtually naked. I was submitting and accepting more and more, my breathing was shallow and erratic. Was I being good enough? I wanted to please him.

The woman helped me remove the red one and I stood naked and helpless again before she handed me the black one. It felt tighter than the red and had a half cup, though my nipples were just covered parts of the areole still showed. Again she held my breasts and brought them into the correct position. With ever growing passivity I turned, stood and bent as instructed. Allowing myself to be guided, directed and controlled. The woman withdrew into the back of the shop. She had said something but I didn't catch it. I was virtually in a trance.

Open your legs. Michael's fingers quickly went to my cunt again. I wasn't dry. He knew too. He withdrew his fingers as I looked at the floor blushing. Nothing was said and the woman returned. I could smell the scent of my sex and was scared that she did too.

Michael talked with her and agreed to take both and I was allowed to dress though still in front of the curtain.

"Thank the lady."

"Thank you Miss." She smiled but I couldn't read her face. The wait as the purchases were wrapped carefully seemed to go on and on. My cheeks were on fire and I kept my eyes lowered.

My submission both shamed and inflamed me. I also felt spoilt by all his purchases. He had spent more on lingerie today than I would in a year! I also felt sexy and slutty having to have to display myself in front of the woman as the possession I was. Michael was leading me to accept things I could never have believed of myself. It suddenly occurred to me to be grateful that the shop was empty. My thighs were slippery.

Outside I couldn't help but ask if I had been good.

"Yes you were a good girl just then." I could feel my stomach fill with butterflies as I found it did each time he gave me compliments now. "But..."

"Yes? Is there anything." Wordlessly I looked at him, feeling suddenly desperate.

"But you seem to think that each time I ask you to do something, you may or may not be able to force yourself to do it. Let me explain, you will do what I tell you without question or hesitation. When I ask you to do something you will consider it a command not a request. Although you were quite good in the shop I am going to punish you when we get home, simply to ensure you understand what your situation is. You need to learn." My eyes filled. Not sobs, but silent tears ran down my face slowly.

"I'm sorry Sir." It's just that I was proud knowing I did what I had done but I hadn't pleased sufficiently. He stopped and wiped my tears away with a finger and, leaning forward, kissed the wetness.

"Don't worry you are a good girl. You should be proud. I don't believe that you will be able to obey always but know that I expect it and that there will be consequences if you don't." He turned me and kissed my lips softly. "And I will decide on the form of punishment you receive. Do you understand and accept that?"

"Oh yes Sir" I whispered into his chest as I lent against him on the street.

"We don't need to go through this again, do we?"

"No Sir." He held my hand, and talked about banalities until he could see I was comforted.

"Will you still punish me?"

"Of course. I said I would didn't I? Besides, you will like it wont you?" He grinned. I thought of being over his knee again. Oh God. "You let the woman touch you."

"Yes." A gasp. I hadn't expected her to. I'd had to.

"Would your friends? Would they have stood naked for a stranger in a shop? I don't think so. You're a slut. Thats why. My slut. It excited you." Inside myself I knew he was right. It was so humiliating yet each humiliation made me more aroused..

A little later, "You wanted her to like your tits, your cunt, your obviously hard nipples." I hung my head, knowing the truth in what he said. "I will do it again. You will become more obedient. I take pleasure in exhibiting you, take pleasure from your humiliation and your arousal by it."

He waited till the following day to spank me. Part of me hoped that he would forget, but strangely, a larger part of me wanted it. It happened again over his knee in the same spot in the same manner as previously. He made me cum again.

Afterwards, feeling very subservient again, I stood totally naked, this time my hands were tied with my arms crossed behind me, the ball gag in my mouth again, this helping to take away any residue of responsibility. My feet were apart and my nose holding a table tennis ball against the wall. If I allowed it to fall I would have my sexual pleasure curtailed, if I dropped it twice, severely so. My nipples occasionally touched the wall, cooler than I expected. Michael read the paper on the sofa. Until the doorbell chimed.

"Do not move. Do not drop the ball. I will tell you when you may move." The orgasm he had given me still buzzed slightly. The feeling of submission still very strong. I wanted him to be pleased with me. Saliva dribble from my mouth a little.

He went to the door. I could hear two voices, male voices in the hall. Suddenly they became louder and then sudden silence. I couldn't move, couldn't turn round, the space around my face was hot. I was aware of a drop of sweat running slowly down my back and my hands becoming anxiously moist.

"Oh I am sorry Eric. She's just been spanked as you can see from the pinkness of her buttocks. I forgot. We'll continue in my office. Don't worry, please ignore her."

"Oh yes." A strangers voice, older than Michael, puzzled.

Then silence, well muffled voices coming from behind the closed door of Michaels office. I stood against the ping pong ball attempting to keep from shaking. He must have seen me, from the back, naked, my bottom, my thighs spread. God, it was so humiliating. My face was so hot.

Michael had known. He hadn't forgotten, he had known, he had wanted me displayed, exhibited. I tried to calm and think. He wanted me to feel the humiliation of being undressed in front of a stranger again. Was this part of my punishment? He had, though, allowed me to keep my face, tits and cunt hidden even though my pink arse was to be displayed. Did he want to show the man I was a slut or that he was a dominant show his views on how to use a woman? But the one thought that kept me from breaking down was that if he exhibited me as belonging to him, and who else's could I be if he had just punished me, then he must expect that I would be well behaved and not show him up. He must consider my nakedness pleasing, the pinkness of my spanked bottom pleasing.

I tried to push up my bottom, I opened my legs a fraction willing them to come back. I wanted to be a good slut.

Eventually I heard the sound of a door opening.

"She has a nice red bottom. Michael... " a little hesitancy, "next time she is punished I would like to watch."

"Of course." He laughed.

The outside door closed. Moments later I felt his presence. His fingers stole round each side of me and grasped my breasts. They were wet with the dribbling from my mouth. He removed the gag and told me to stretch my jaw.

Your nipples are rather hard, he laughed. His fingers slipped over my stomach and between my lips. "Oh you certainly like being shown off, don't you slut?" Luckily it was a rhetorical question as he brought me to the edge of another orgasm but then stopped, leaving me desperate for his touch once more.

It distressed me to know it, but yes I needed to be punished by him. Punished in different ways. The humiliation of having to display and expose myself and be punished seemed to meet a deep down need within myself.

Watched and pushed further

A few weeks later, another Friday, and he was driving me to the house.

"Put your collar on." I did obediently. "What underwear have you on?"

"Black. Thin non wired bra, normal knickers, matching, lacy."

"Suspender belt?"

"Yes."

He let me wear normal things away from him. His rules on clothing did not come into being until we had reached the house though I was aware that my clothing had subtly changed. I wore sexier lingerie, perhaps more cleavage was displayed, I never wore tights. He didn't expect me to take off my underwear at work before I met him, thankfully. We drove on for a while before he reached for his phone. After a minute he passed it to me.

"Phone Eric. Tell him to meet us at the house. For him to watch you being spanked." I looked at him open mouthed.

"But... But."

"But nothing. You will be spanked, he will watch. Do you understand?"

I continued to stare at him. Eventually, "Yes Sir." I felt hot. I looked at my knees. Gradually I took it in. He pulled into a lay-by and looked at me.

"I'm proud of you. Today I wish to show you off. Are you mine to show off?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. You know it."

"I would not wish to show you off if you were disobedient or ugly."

"No Sir. I understand. Thank you."

Not believing what I was doing I phoned Eric with burning cheeks and a breaking voice.

"Hello Eric?... You met me at Michaels last week Yes, against the wall. Michael told me to phone. He told me to tell you that you could meet us at the house Yes. Yes. He says he is going to spank me... Yes. Yes, I'd like that. Thank you Goodbye."

When we pulled into the drive Eric was standing by his black car waiting. On entering the house I was in a quandary. I didn't know whether to strip off or not. Michael caught my eye and said later. Thankfully I walked behind them into the sitting room. Though they sat I was told to stand and felt very conspicuous even though I was dressed. They were talking but did not include me. They were talking about spanking and about me. Michael told him that I was naked or near naked when I received punishment. He said he felt that it added something to the humiliation of the situation. He was certainly correct. Eric was nothing but in agreement.

Turning to me Michael told me to undress slowly, to wait for his nod after removing each item. I had never done this in front of two men. With a woman it somehow seemed just about acceptable, this would obviously be over the mark of decency and normalacy. I would be showing both of them that I was a submissive slut.

Slowly I undid the buttons on my blouse, took it over my shoulders, showing my tits in their thin bra with the nipples prominent. My tits bounced up and down with my breathing. I realised that if I was to be shown off I had to look my best. I tried to push back my shoulders and look good but it was hard. After a nod I unzipped my skirt and stepped from it and felt the collar around my throat as I moved. I could imagine my black lingerie looked sexy to Eric. I wondered what he thought of me, undressing like some tramp. I wondered if he liked my body. Michael wanted to be proud.

Michael nodded again, I unfastened my bra. This was the crunch time I knew. I pulled it from my tits. My nipples stood out hard, dark pink and prominent. I couldn't believe them. Both men stared at my tits, their eyes like fingers on me.

"They're not the biggest tits in the world but I do like their shape and pertness." Eric grinned and simply nodded his agreement. "And, there is no mistaking if she is aroused. Look at her nipples and the blush over her tits and throat." I wanted to die. I wanted the earth to swallow me. My skin burnt. I knew I was wet.

"Carry on." I inched down my knickers until I could delay no more. Feeling the dampness of the material against my legs as I stood out of them suddenly remembering I was shaved. Without thinking I closed my eyes and after stepping out of them I pulled my arms around me to cover my nakedness.

"Now slut, you shouldn't do that should you?" My hands crept away slowly. I was breathing with quick short breaths. "Now face Eric, let him see properly."

I turned slightly, knowing the sight I presented. I wondered what he thought of me standing near naked before him. I wondered if he liked what he saw. I wanted him to be so that Sir was pleased. Forcing myself, I stood straighter, my thighs parting just a fraction.

"She's very nice. And collared. I love the shaved fanny. Very nice. It shows it off a treat." Under my hot blushes I knew very well how it showed me. I had looked at myself in the mirror sufficiently often to know that my outer lips bulged obscenely and the inner lips thrust through just a little.

As my owner, he displayed me front and back and gradually being made to adopt different poses, with my elbows far back, holding my shins. Taking off my shoes I was told to climb over Michael's knee. I tried as elegantly as possible with my arse cheeks facing Eric and knowing my cunt would be easily seen too.

Sir stroked my cheeks for a while and spoke with Eric. I knew Erics eyes were on my tits and cunt and bottom. I gradually relaxed but still felt amazed that I hadn't died of humiliation as I had undressed in front of a strange man. He would still be looking at me. At my arse stuck up over Sirs knee. Oh God. It was certainly different to being in the shop though in some ways being draped over Michaels knee was quite comforting, feeling reassuringly restrained in a position I had begun to accept.