OWNED
It is a quiet and peaceful moment, just an Asian pet and her white owner enjoying being together.
You are watching a movie. You sit naked in his lap. Your hands are cuffed.
His thumb is up your bottom. A small sign of ownership.
Sometimes you watch the movie. In quieter scenes, he strokes your clit, teases your nipples. You whimper happily. You rest your head against him, snuggle into his warmth. He strokes your face, your neck and shoulders, nuzzles your hair. He is so big compared to you, you feel so small. You feel cute, helpless, wanted, protected.
Owned.
You like to play up cute. You rub your cheeks against his and beg with your cutest face for his kisses. With your hands cuffed, he feeds you nibbles with his fingers, you offer your open lips when you want another.
You clench on his thumb, squeeze on it. You are past any pretence with Master. There is no need to act a good girl with him, he has freed you, taken you to your darkest desires. He knows you like it. Sometimes he holds his thumb rigid and upright and you slide your little greased anus up and down on it. It feels good, it feels slutty, puts you in a mood.
"Watch the movie. Calm yourself monkey"
You try and sit still. You know he is going to take your bottom with his fat cock when the movie is over. You squirm and wriggle and you can't stop thinking about it.
The movie continues but you're not really watching. You're just revelling in his kisses, and caresses, thinking about what will follow.
You think about how it began.
The first time in his apartment, how confident he was. You were shy, so shy, you don't know how to talk to guys but he filled the space and it felt like your shyness just didn't matter. It felt like he saw right inside you, to all that is unspoken, all that lies beneath.
His hand was up your skirt, he stroked the back of your thighs. Your mouth voiced stop. You know you were supposed to say that. He didn't stop. There was kindness in his eyes, understanding as well as lust, hunger. You knew he knew what you wanted and that you couldn't say it. His fingers lingered on your bare thigh. Your heart was pounding.
"We don't need these any more" and he took your panties down. It is not like the one awkward fumbling time your boyfriend tried and you got scared and pushed him away. No, this old white man is assured, smooth, he takes them down like its right to do so.
"Panties come down for the white man."
In his mouth it sounds like a law of nature.
His hand went between your legs, his fingers reached inside you knowingly. No man had touched you there before. You knew you should say stop but you didn't. It wouldn't have mattered if you had and besides you wouldn't have meant it. The fingers on your pussy were right where they were meant to be. He knew it and you did too. You buried your head against his chest and panted, while he held you and fingered you, and stroked and teased your clit until it throbbed and your juices ran down your leg. For the first time you were excited in a man's presence.
You were a good girl, always respectable, always modest. Only late at night do you engage your other self. Alone in your bed, finger on your clit, you talk to white men and you dream. You dream of swollen white cocks, pounding you, hot white cum dribbling from your lips, you dream of being the slutty girl you never can be in real life. How many times had you nearly worn your little clit out with these fantasies?
Just fantasies. Until that first day in his apartment.
His pants were down. He pushed you to your knees between his legs. For the first time you saw a man, up close, an inch from your lips. Not porn, not fantasy. It was thick, oh so thick and long, pre-cum glistened at the swollen head.
Your cheeks were flushed, you were so ashamed. The shy girl came back, the good girl bubbled to the surface for a moment. You didn't know what to do or say. It didn't matter. The white man's hand pulled you closer and guided it into your mouth, hot and pulsing.
There would be no awkward debate whether you were brave enough, there would be no fears holding you back, no fear you didn't know what to do. There was no decision to make, he had made it for you. In his cocky arrogance he just told you what to do and you did it.
You were so ashamed though. So terribly ashamed. And so excited. As you tasted a man for the first time, his precum, his scent and his earthy masculinity flooded your senses, you realised for the first time that your shame and your excitement are the same. They feed each other, they need each other, they go together.
And you realised, also for the first time, that the cock that enslaves you is the cock that sets you free.
How you slurped on that old white guy's cock! You felt like such a little slut and you loved it. He made you feel you that way with his words.
"Do you like sucking on a fat white cock?"
He made you say it. Yes.
