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Owning Victoria - Chapter One

Owning Victoria - Chapter One

The minutes coalesce into one another and the evidence of her violence is painted clearly on the soft, smooth canvas of my skin. The sadistic art of her pleasure gleams on my flesh like a tortured artist’s masterpiece. The nature of her passion is clear, absolute, resolute, unflinching, and powerful. The dictatorial control she exerts is infinite and unquestioning. I am humbled before her, kneeling in supine desire. I am utterly bent with anticipation, fear, awe, and reverence. Desiring to worship and to obey. My body is desperate to feed the beast which lives within the recesses of her mind. My mind is captured, a willing slave to her needs, wants, and orders. The incessant need to prostrate myself at her feet grows until I resemble a mewling kitten. Sinew bends as I quiver in anticipation. The wait is excruciating.

It’s been hours and days on my knees, on my back, face down on the bed with her manipulating every inch of me from the inside out. Tied up, gagged, pulled this way and that way and blind folded for hours until my heart hammered in my chest. It’s been weeks since I stepped foot into her mansion, and the days run together like so much poison seeping from my veins. The tableau she’s painted on me with fat brushes shaped like fists, and slim riding crops neatly organized hanging from the wall pulsed as I knelt before her.

Hold. Wait. Forget to breathe.

The first touch of her will introduces itself on my skin as the breath of air I have been keeping locked away is forcefully expelled. The thick black color, the texture , the weight of her belt settles over me again, and again. The scene she’s painted before her eyes makes the tender folds of her pussy quiver as I glance up at them after every blow. The visage of my submission ignites the raging violence within her that I am all too eager to accept. I am a willing participant to her violation and violent desire; she is master, owner, and all powerful control. My heart races. I moan. I can’t stop myself from begging. She’s told me in no uncertain terms that I’m allowed to beg, to cry, to scream, but I am never, ever allowed to say no. “Harder, hit me harder, please.” She knows that I mean it. The rush of blood to my face emboldens her and she strikes harder, feasting in my submission. Her belt strikes me in so many different places, and so many times, all I am capable of doing is begging her for more. I want her violence on my body the way most need air to breathe. It is not a desire, it is a virulent need. The realization that the more I cry for pain, the harder she will hit me, is not lost on me. My pleasure ripens and matures as she slams the belt down across my back, hips, ass, and thighs. The searing heat of this fantastic torture elates me and I cum, hard, without thought, flooding my beaten channel in an act of disobedience that will be rewarded with swift correction. It shakes me. It shatters me as I squirm away from the evidence of my loss of control dripping in fat droplets to the floor. My face flames and I paste it to the floor at her feet. Tears blind me and I feel the hand of shame sliding deliberately down my spine. She strides across the room and palms her favorite red riding crop. Her steps are deliberate and swift. Soon her stocking clad feet are next to my face and I resist the urge to beg for her forgiveness.

She pulls me to my feet, the belt tossed on the floor and the riding crop gripped tight in her left hand. “Did I give you permission to cum?”

“No, Sir,” I whisper with my blue eyes cast down. Permission is paramount. She’s been drilling that into me since day one. Permission is always necessary even for the smallest action. She turns me around and walks me through the living room to the bedroom where the sheets are freshly laundered and the blankets are stacked in the corner. It’s not the master suite. No, she’d never soil the master suite with the likes of me. This is the room I’ve been deposited in. It’s my heaven. It’s my hell. It’s the inescapable result of my own mistakes. The shackles I’ve been wearing for weeks hang from the four corners of the bed and the sight of them makes my cunt spasm. 

“Lay on your back,” she commands. I instantly climb onto the bed, spread eagle, and put my hands above my head. I know what’s about to happen and tears seep from the corners of my eyes. She never admonishes me for my tears. They’re her jewels of satisfaction, and she’s spent time wiping and kissing them away. Most of the time they just leave dark stains on the linens a nameless servant takes away and brings back. Her hand pushes my legs further apart, exposing the most vulnerable and traitorous part of my body to her. My cunt is already red and abused. It’s been lasered free of all hair and my tattoo gleams against the red backdrop of my flesh. From the line of crops hanging from the wall I watch as she puts the crop down and picks up the flogger. The tassels are deceptively soft when one cleans them. It is necessary to remove the bits of errant skin, and whatever stray drops of blood that may have accumulated over the course of a vigorous lesson in obedience.

She doesn’t ask me to count. She’s never counted as she’s whipped me and for that I am both happy and sad. Knowing the stroke count of my correction would help me console myself if I’d been able to take more and more, but I’ve lost count the few times I thought to keep score. It’s the middle of the day and I can’t hear anything but the beating of my own heart and her soft footsteps on the carpet. My vision narrows each time she steps closer to the bed. I twist my head to the side and wait for the stroke of absolution that will make me worthy to receive her. I’ll endure as I have since the first night she flogged the tender flesh of my cunt.

Over and over she strikes me until my body recoils from the touch of the whip. Then again, she strikes several more times before I hear the thud of the flogger on the floor and feel the weight of her settling on the bed. Her fingers stroke over where she’s hit me and her hot breath on the top of my mound raises goose bumps all over my skin. She licks my clit, devours it softly and slowly with her tongue.

“Please, please Sir. Please Sir. Oh God I can’t stop it. I can’t stop it please let me cum. Please stop you have to stop or I’m going to cum.” The words fall unbidden from my mouth and she raises her head. 

“Cum for me, Blue,” is all she says. I can feel each nerve in my body jumping. They’re cresting and riding a wave of ecstasy as she tenderly and softly licks the part of me she’s forbidden me to touch. Sobs rack the inside of me, force their way out, and I flood the bed and her mouth with cum. I’m bucking back and forth, eyes closed, mouth open, hands clenched above me as she takes her mouth away and fills me with her cock. The thrust of her cock inside me hurts and tears, and pleasure beyond words fuels my insides as she batters me from the inside, and the outside as well. It’s the latest piece of sensual wear for those not born with a functioning cock. It rests just above her mons pubis low beneath her belly button. It’s completely flush with her skin, rigid and looks as though it was fashioned to her body by God herself. Every morning she filled the shaft with her laboratory curated breeding spores. She was determined to breed me no matter how long it took.

Her hand surrounds my throat, cutting off my air, as my eyes finally open and I look up at her filled with awe and desire. I had no idea that I could lay beneath anyone filled with such pain, pleasure, desire, and joy. Watching her hurt me, feeling her beat me, knowing that she’s taking exactly what she is due fuels that dark place way deep down I never knew existed. She takes her hand away and buries her face in the bed next to my ear and whispers as her hands grip my ass and hold me rigidly in place. She’s forcing herself deeper inside me than anyone has ever been before. I was never the most experienced woman, but she’d been opening me up and stretching me to her satisfaction every day since my second day in my new forever.

I don’t want it to stop, but it’s the first orgasm of the day and I know there will be many more to follow. I wrap my legs around her and beg her to fill me with her cum. She knows I need it. I know I need it. It’s the one thing I never wanted that I can no longer live without.

“Please Sir, please cum deep in me. I need it so much. Thank you so much. On my god I love you.” The words mash together and run on in a sentence that’s never ending. My joy, my gratitude, my reverence for her place above me. Finally she presses in hard and I feel her legs shake as her orgasm rushes through her. She reaches her hand down and presses the sac attached to the bottom of the shaft, and as her pussy floods with her own cum mine floods with her seed. I feel it shooting deep inside me, and I clench the walls of my cunt over and over again to open myself up to each and every last drop. It’s the only place she deposits her breeding seed, and I’ve learned it’s best to never ask for it anywhere else. I’m greedy for it now. 

I quiver once again, my pleasure at her release is overpowering. The divinity of her power over me is evident as the moments pass and the bruises and welts begin to form where she’s beaten me. Tears of happiness fill my eyes. The layers of her art shine like a deep purple and green masterpiece on my skin. I breathe again. So pleasurably destroyed. Helplessly completed by her violence.

I had a name once, but it’s been lost in the weeks I’ve been with her. She gave me a new name the same day we met. Her hands stroke down my sides as she pulls out of me and I feel the wetness of her cum slowly slipping from my cunt. I’m not allowed to call it anything other than a cunt in front of her any longer. She owns it. She had a barcode tattooed on the mound above my clit that can be scanned. It links to an online registry for slaves. I am hers. I balked at the tattoo and being registered, but the nature of my protest was uninformed. I didn’t know then what I know now, and I cannot imagine my flesh being unmarked with her stamp of ownership. Her hands encircle my wrists and I peer up at her. Tears are still jettisoning from my eyes and I can’t stop shaking. Every time she finishes with me I quiver uncontrollably. Everything hurts. 

She lays down next to me and pulls me next to her. Cradled in her arms I don’t feel like the same Victoria that I was when I locked my apartment for the last time. What I feel is love. Unapologetic love for the stranger I met seven or some odd weeks before. I could never have imagined the things I’d do, and the lengths to which I’d go, to please someone I barely knew.

When I was a girl I was teased for being too shy. Even though society had always had a laissez faire attitude regarding sexuality I didn’t. I couldn’t. I knew there was something else waiting for me. My body was never my own after that. Etheinem ruled that all citizens over the age of eighteen not in the ruling class was subject to the Free Use Doctrine. The only exceptions were government officials, those over the age of sixty, and married couples over the age of fifty with children under sixteen. Since Etheinem citizens were not allowed to procreate before age thirty this left a broad window of citizens available for free use. Not only could the members of the ruling classes use them, but they could be used by their own kind if they were unprotected by a member of the ruling class. The only way to avoid being used was to apply for a slave position with an owner in the Elite, Royal, or Divine Class. Since the ruling six months prior every man and woman I knew had applied for a position in a ruling household. Most of the people I knew who were taken on received a protection ring and collar immediately, but my Owner wasn’t like the others.  She only had a few other slaves, and I hadn’t been introduced to any of them yet. I hadn’t been allowed the opportunity to call or socialize with anyone I’d known as Victoria either.

“Stand up and stop thinking about your pain, Blue,” she said, and I pushed to my feet and fell to my knees. I could feel her cum dripping out of my cunt and I clenched the walls tight hoping to keep as much of it inside of me as I could. I didn’t want to waste any. I’d come to appreciate, even love, the way it felt inside of me. It was intoxicating. Science had engineered it that way. Several decades before the Etheinem Science College had finally succeeded in creating breeding spores with female DNA. It meant that men were no longer required to create life. Not only that, since it’s creation it had been modified time and again to be almost addicting, sweet tasting, and odorless. Nothing had ever been the same since then. I set my hands palms up on my knees and tilted my chin back and opened my mouth. Her cock slid inside of my mouth and she worked it back and forth so I could clean off her cum and my pussy juice. I’d grown used to the taste of myself, and didn’t shy away from cleaning her up like I had the first week. 

I pulsed with need as I slid my tongue over and around her shaft. I worked every single centimeter over with my tongue, and when she turned around and leaned her hands on the bed I slid closer to her ass. Spreading her cheeks I licked her tight puckered ass over and over again until she was moaning. I pushed my tongue inside of it and rimmed her for several minutes. I could feel her squirming and knew she was ready for my tongue in her pussy. I nudged her reverently with my hands and she swung her legs up onto the bed and bent over. I loved this view of her. I buried my face in her pussy and sucked and licked every inch of it. Her lips were dripping with juice and it tasted like the sweetest nectar I’d ever had from a slice of fruit.. I knew it would not be long. She had no reason not to cum quick. Her hand came down between her legs and rubbed her clit furiously as I worked my tongue in and out of her beautiful pink hole. I was ready to drink her pleasure with my lips locked around the entrance to her canal. She buried her face in the pillow and I waited with my tongue buried inside of her as her cum filled my mouth and I swallowed. I needed it more than anything. As much as I loved her cum inside me I absolutely relished devouring her true flavor.

Over and over she pushed back against me and I held onto her hips as she intently rode my tongue. This was a new position. Usually I was face up on the bed with her pussy fixed on my mouth and her painted cock swinging in my face. I focused my attention on my breathing, my heart rate, and opening my throat. I slid my tongue back and forth until I felt her trembling subside and felt her hand drop away from her clit. I was obsessed with stroking into my mouth every single drop of her pleasure that I could. She pulled away from me and I backed up and waited on my knees. 

With a hand in my hair she pulled me to my feet and bent me over the bed. I arched my back and pushed my ass out as she found my cum soaked cunt and pushed her cock inside of it. Over and over she pounded into me as she gripped my hips with her strong fingers. 

“Please, please Sir. Please make me suffer,” I groaned. I needed to suffer for her. I was made to suffer for her. She’d owned me from the moment I was made. I shivered as she pulled my head back with my hair and slammed further into me. Her hands gripped bruises she’d placed there days before and my knees almost gave out. I thought about anything other than the way her hard cock felt inside me, and the moment passed as she finally held still and pressed the ejaculation button at the base of the sac. 

“Cum while I breed you, baby Blue,” she said.

With those words I could not hold back and screamed as she squeezed my hips and unloaded another round of seed inside of me. I counted to thirty as she slowly pulled out and dropped to my knees immediately to clean her off once again. It was addictive. The flavor of her pussy and the flavor of her seed mingling on my lips like a divine dessert. I was gone. Victoria was no longer a part of who I was. I was her Baby Blue. Her slave. Her lover. Her possession for as many days or weeks she’d allow me to love her. I was helpless to move, helpless to leave, and hopelessly in love with the one woman I’d sworn I’d never be owned by.