Owned And Owner (8 page)

‘That’s most of it. But there is some reason to it. This is a process, and I don’t want it disturbed. She’s going deeper all the time. I won’t even think about sharing her till I’ve got her myself, all of her.’

Therin stared at the tightly bound figure for a long time in silence. He would have put up everything he owned to buy a woman, but it hadn’t been enough in this case. ‘All right, tell me when you think she’s all the way down.’

Therin saw the glint that generally served his friend for a smile. ‘You’ll be the first to know.’

That day it occurred to Garid that he had been just a little afraid that he would not be tough enough to own another human being for real, too humane to inflict pain and humiliation on someone who couldn’t walk away. He was able to admit this to himself now, because weeks had gone by, weeks of total immersion in his slave’s use and discipline and care, before he had even remembered his fear. With an inward laugh he realized that it hadn’t been a problem at all.

Day followed day. Something of a routine developed. I woke up each morning chained in the little space under the stairs, went to sleep there every night longing to be in my master’s bed, or even on the floor at its foot. It made me rather sad, sometimes, but I had to accept that I didn’t deserve it. The frequent punishments made that clear. Still, I lay there each night cogitating on what I should be doing differently. I couldn’t help it, though it seemed to do no good.

They continued to give me all my meals in the bowl fastened to the floor. I never quite got used to the humiliation of it, even though the staff seemed quite casual about this method of feeding me. It was no big deal to them, as far as I could see; unlike my master they were getting no particular kick out of making me eat like a dog. On the other hand, it never seemed to occur to them that I should eat any other way. Fastening my wrists to the sides of the bowl was just part of the routine, and one they never forgot, although they often did forget to unfasten me for some time afterwards. There was a fair amount of scolding and disgust about the mess I made, and even though I couldn’t help it, mealtime was a shaming process.

I was sometimes allowed to use a toilet when it was convenient for them, but usually it was walks – or rather crawls – on a leash in the garden to relieve myself. I was intensely grateful that the walls around the grounds were high, but visitors often saw me walked in this way, and didn’t seem to take it as anything out of the ordinary. Then there was exercise on machines they could lock me into, which were re-jigged to be small enough for me. I was forced into exercise, as a diversion from the usual forced immobility. It seems like a hell of a contrast, but in fact the similarity was more obvious to me: I had absolutely no choice about either.

If all this made me helpless and dependent, it was nothing to the times he kept me in a hood. This was a fitted leather thing that covered my head closely down past my neck. It had a gag inside it, pads over the ears, and a blindfold that could be on or off. He mostly kept it on. I spent hours sitting on my heels in that thing, blind and deaf, my arms fastened together to the elbow behind my back, and then to my ankles, presumably decorating rooms for his amusement. The contrast between my completely and tightly covered head and the nakedness of my defenseless body was powerfully strange and erotic. I remember the first time very well; I nearly jumped out of my skin at the slightest touch because of course I couldn’t see it coming. I strained with all my might to hear through the hood, thinking I was tracking noises that were masked by my heart pounding in my ears.

When at last I accepted that I was accomplishing nothing, I gave up, to the darkness and near silence, to the loss of control through the loss of those most important senses. I had no hands available to feel with, either, and all I could smell or taste was leather and the rubbery substance of my gag. All I had to sense with was the soft skin of my body, up against the cool air, waiting, waiting, waiting for a touch.

When the touch finally came it
was hands
stroking my breasts, pulling on my nipples, and then my first experience of nipple clips. I remember bowing my hooded head in pain, bowing my body around my painful breasts, and then feeling my head pulled tightly back and fastened by something to my ankles. My thrust-out nipples felt another tug as weights were added to the clips, and I groaned into the gag. Big hands parted my knees, and then I felt pinching there, too, painful pinches that stayed on my labia. The hands left me but the clips did not, seeming to increase their pressure as I waited and throbbed.

I shivered after a while as I felt a subtle sensation, so subtle I had trouble identifying where it was coming from against all the pain and restraint. I knew it was making me clench and tremble. I finally realized it was a light stroking across the tips of my clamped nipples, almost feather light, but it went on for several minutes, turning my level of arousal up and up. Then a prickling sensation, as if a stiff brush was being used in the same place, going back and forth over that border between stimulation and pain. Then the almost imperceptible stroking began on my labia, swollen against their clamps, and then light but painful prickling.
Back and forth, nipples and labia, without ever touching my clit.
Most of me was so tightly tied I could hardly even squirm, but my breath was hoarse under the hood.

After what felt like hours of torment with no release, in the darkness and the silence I lost my bearings. I was so disoriented that when something hurt my cunt more than usual I tried to close my legs. Quickly a strap slashed down on my thighs, making me squeal and open them wider than before. I took the additional punishment on my inner thighs, my legs shaking with tension. Then the tiny stimulation continued, only both areas at once, with an occasional brush over the welts nearest to my cunt. I was way past the point where I thought I couldn’t stand anymore, when a cold metallic clamp suddenly closed on my clit. This bundle of nerves seemed to swell and burst. Within a moment I was shrieking my release into my gag, the fierce spasms stabbing my cunt like knives. I kept screaming, my gagged voice shrill in my ears, and kept coming as the clamp was yanked off and then replaced, again and again.

That night they had to carry me to my little kennel under the stairs; I was so shaky and exhausted I could hardly crawl. I lay there, curled up on my side, my hand closed as usual around the chain that linked my collar to the wall. My bruises hurt against the floor. My clit was an aching awareness between my thighs,
themselves
painfully pressed together, welt against welt. I couldn’t sleep. My mind was for once shying away from what had happened, and this was so unusual that I began to wonder why. Reluctantly I took the experience out and touched it gingerly around the edges.

My subjection that day had been unnerving, had left me shaky and off-balance, far more than could be accounted for by the physical experience alone.
But why?
I’d been confined for long periods before. For that matter, I’d been quite helpless from the moment I landed on this planet. They could do whatever they wanted to me; I couldn’t stop them.

The hood.
I winced. I had sometimes been able to see it coming – up to now. I’d had the sense of preparedness that goes with seeing it coming. Not this time. It was so simple to take that away from me, so stupid of me to count on that illusory control. I had my senses when he wanted me to have them – when he was training me to obey hand signals, for instance, or when he wanted me to hear a reprimand. Or when he held me with his gaze, a roadside mammal caught in the headlights, too mesmerized to step aside and save herself.

In the language of Raniz the word ‘intelligence’ is a variation on the words ‘to see’. My eyes were the direct route to my brain, the place where I anticipated and tried to control my own responses, even if I could control nothing else. If even that was taken away, what was I?

Garid looked down on the little creature at his feet, his cock jumping at the sight, even after weeks of playing with her. The delicious curve of her haunches, the sweetness of her breasts, the delicate neck in its collar… He pushed her to her hands and knees. She was quicker now to understand what he wanted. He squatted down next to her on the floor, and fitted the heavy knee pads carefully in place. They locked tightly above and below each knee. Each fastened to itself at the back and prevented her from straightening her legs, but allowed her the normal range for crawling. He took each little hand and enclosed it in a snug,
thumbless
leather mitt, padded on the palm side and locked around her wrist. He muzzled her, her jaws held tightly around a bit gag. Then he walked around behind her and contemplated her pretty ass for a while. He got out the last piece of equipment, a thick tail held in its place at the end of her spine by almost invisible cords. There was a plug with a short rod that climbed up between her cheeks and helped support the tail. He greased the plug and slowly inserted it into her virgin asshole. He’d chosen a small one to begin, but she still gasped and clenched involuntarily at the first touch. He was patient with her, letting her adjust to it, but he moved it inexorably up and in, bit by bit, pulling out a little, pushing in some more, twisting, tilting, while she groaned and trembled and held her muzzled head in her arms. At last he was able to fasten the cords and adjust the tail to his satisfaction. Then he sat back to admire his beautiful little dog slave.

She looked perfect once he had her leashed, the leash looped over a hook on the back of his door. She was very flushed and shamefaced, and could not help shaking and clenching around the dildo.

He left her there while he dressed for the party. Well, not a party, really, but a small gathering of colleagues, getting together to celebrate a contract. Several had asked about his new woman pet, and he had promised to bring her along. Others had been careful not to mention his strange acquisition; they had to work with Garid and didn’t want to alienate him. These men happened to be aware of the reason for acquiring human females and found
Garid’s
open heterosexuality very embarrassing. They projected the same embarrassment onto him, which embarrassed them still more. Clearly, the whole subject was better avoided. On Henth, compared to heterosexuality, slave ownership faded into insignificance.

Garid stood on the doorstep, feeling his pet tremble a little against his leg. It was a warm and humid evening, so she wasn’t cold. He led her by the leash into the half-filled room. Despite her fear she crawled after him, docile, while the room went silent and everyone stared. A moment later Garid was approached by welcoming friends, and his pet was being patted and examined. There was some amusement over the tail, particularly when one elderly guest said he hadn’t known that women actually had tails. He laughed loudest when the dildo was discovered, and could be seen surreptitiously tweaking the tail from time to time. Garid had no difficulty observing his pet’s humiliation, and enjoyed it so much that he had some difficulty managing his erection.

He had worried there would be protests from someone in the room. Sooner or later there would be someone to lecture him about women being, in fact, human, and therefore needing emancipation. But this group contained few people so progressive or off-world aware. The only women that ever came past the ports at Henth were exotic pets, and without giving it much thought, that was how these men saw them. Sex was something you did with men, whether you preferred just one partner or a cluster of three or more.

So the woman was patted, her strange physiology exclaimed over. Her tiny size was in keeping with expectations; she was about average for certain popular dog breeds. Garid kept her close on the leash, sitting or lying at his feet the whole time.

He went into the kitchen and took off the muzzle to let her slurp some water from a bowl. His friend
Deymir
came in behind him.

‘Hey, Garid, does she bite?’

‘Not so far, but if enough people pull her tail, who knows?’ said Garid.

‘I won’t pull your tail, you little cutie. What’s her name?’

‘I don’t use her
Ranizen
name; “
jeedy
” is good enough.’

‘Okay. Here, does she eat these? Here,
jeedy
.’
Deymir
offered the woman
an
hors d’oeuvre. She looked up at her owner and he nodded, so she took the morsel in her mouth.

‘Oh, can I try?’ said the host. He gave her a choice bit of
salik
meat, which she obviously enjoyed, and then persuaded Garid to leave her muzzle off. The guests had a good time feeding her tidbits, and the evening was more of a success than it would have been otherwise.

Sitting quietly in an alcove next to an open fire with an old friend, his pet at his feet, Garid listened to the questions he had been expecting all evening.

‘I know you, Garid. You’re a good man, a humane man. How can you derive pleasure from this – this degradation?’

‘As far as I can tell I was born this way. I can’t tell you which chromosome it’s on, but it’s there somewhere.’

‘But she is
human,
after all, she’s intelligent. She’s not really an animal.’

‘She’s made the way she is also. We’re both anomalies, but we match, you see. And she made a choice, back there on Raniz.’

His friend looked baffled. ‘Well, all right, I know she chose this. Still, I don’t understand. Why aren’t you teaching her to speak?’

‘My choice.
It intensifies her position.’