Owned And Owner by Anneke Jacob Read Free Book Online Page B

drowning me. I had known theoretically about what happened when a man had an orgasm, but the reality was a lesson I hadn’t quite prepared for. I gulped it down anyway, and didn’t take my mouth from around his penis until it softened and fell away.
    I leaned against his leg then, tasting his come in the back of my throat, grateful for the hand stroking my hair. After a while he took a short leash from his box, passed it through an eye bolt recessed into the base of a wooden pillar, looped the hook end through the handle and clipped it to my collar. My hands were still fastened behind my back, so I couldn’t undo it. Simple and effective. He went off and I heard water running.
    The leash was short enough to keep my head bowed when I was sitting on my heels, as I was. I toyed with the idea of lying down on my side, but I wasn’t quite prepared to risk another beating. I didn’t know what the rules were, but I suspected that not breaking position might be one of them. And I did not want to sit on my ass.
    Eventually he came back into the room, clean and redressed, and unfastened me from the pillar. He led me down the hall into a bathroom, let me use the toilet (I had to wriggle myself backwards onto it like a child), then stood me in a tub the size of a small pond, and washed me gently all over. My hands were still locked behind my back, but the water didn’t seem to affect the leather cuffs at all. Treated, I suppose.
    The washing became a smooth soapy stroking, and my skin began to wait for him. Each part of me wanted to be the next to be touched. The part he was touching felt like a different sort of surface, raised and hypersensitive and sleepy and wide awake. My breasts in his soapy hands felt wonderful, silky and slippery, each nipple a point of indefinable bliss. Even my sore ass, especially my sore ass, wanted his touch like nothing before. His huge hands slid fairly painfully over the welts. He was touching my cunt and a painful place just behind it on my ass at the same time. I groaned with pain, or whatever it was, and leaned toward him, wanting more.
    Then he showered me off, and dried me, and it was over. I whined a little and he stroked my hair, looking amused. He led me on the leash along a corridor, very austere looking, white walls and a dark wood floor, and down some stairs to a room with food laid out for one. This room looked neat but lived in, with at least two vidcom screens, a corner holo display and tidy piles of books. It would have felt fairly homelike if it hadn’t been half again as big in all its dimensions and furniture as my eye expected. The room looked too informal to be a dining room, but perhaps this was where he ate when he didn’t have company. I wasn’t company. My bowl was on the floor a few feet from his chair. I was glad when he released my arms from behind my back. However, my wrists were immediately locked again to the sides of the heavy, squarish bowl, which seemed to be bolted to the floor. Someone scraped some food into it, and there I was. I was grateful, and I was humiliated. I was grateful because he wasn’t making me eat with my hands behind my back, which I had found hard. I was humiliated, because not only my master but two others could see me eating like a dog on the floor. I closed my eyes for a moment, put my head down and began to eat.
    Again the food was unfamiliar; it was very plain. Some kind of porridge and a few vegetables. I could tell he had something different by the smells in the air. Whatever it was, it wasn’t for me. I wasn’t very hungry (too horny), and I was trying to eat without getting food on my face or in my hair. He was finished long before me; I could feel him eyeing me for a while. When I straightened my arms and sat back on my heels I caught his expression, and I froze again. He took a few steps across the room and came back with a thonged whip. He pushed my face down into the bowl and began to beat me. I choked, my face so far into the