Owning Her: Beautiful Domestic Discipline

by Susan Sass

  Aya sighed, “Why did you lie when you were questioned?”

  “I was afraid. And then I got mad at Layla. It was her fault I did it. That is why I hit her.”

  “Well you should not have lied and it is never permitted to strike another slave. Your punishment was more for that than the stealing of the candy. This is not the first time you have had a conflict with Layla.”

  “She and I don’t like each other. She is always trying to get all the attention.”

  Aya knew instantly what Leeane was speaking about. It seemed like there was always some little tiff going on when it came to who got chosen for play. And Leeane and Layla were young and hot blooded. She decided to make sure that no one was shown too much favoritism.

  She returned Leeane to the slave compound and spoke with a couple of the other girls. Then she went to find Layla. As the girl knelt at her feet, Aya spoke, “Who gave you the candy treat that Leeane took from you?”

  “Overseer James, Mistress Aya.”

  “What did you do to earn such a treat from Overseer James?”

  “I had been pleasing to him, Mistress. I obeyed his commands and he used me for his pleasure. He said I was the best he had ever had. He always sends for just me.” The girl looked up with a proud look in her eyes.

  Aya knew that Layla was passionate and insatiable. She had used the girl herself on numerous occasions. She reached down and grabbed the girl’s chin, “Obedience is required, but pride is not. You are nothing, slave, just a tight hole or a warm wet tongue. Do not be too proud, it will be your downfall. For the next week you will do Leeane’s chores as well as your own. Next time you think to barter your treats, you should be sure to keep up your end of the business deal.” Aya pushed the girl to the floor and walked away.

  Next she sought out Overseer James. She stood by as he gave instructions to a group of slaves that were getting ready to start their day’s work. When he turned to her she did not look directly at him. Her words were as oblique, “It is unwise to show favoritism to the slaves. It can lead to conflict.”

  James did not speak.

  Aya continued. “Layla is feeling very proud of all the attention you lavish upon her. She flaunts her treats. She brags about your praise of her abilities. It would be wise for you to spread out your time with the other girls. In fact it would be wise if you did not spend any time with Layla for a while.” Aya walked away before the other overseer could protest or deny.

  Next she went to the metal box in the punishment plaza. In exchange for getting out of the hot little box, Leeane had eagerly told all she knew about slave Josh’s little brewing hobby. He had been making wine in plastic bags with fruit pilfered from the orchards. She said he traded the wine to the other slaves for help with his assigned chores, better choice of food and sleeping arrangements, even sexual favors. Apparently he had developed a strong affection for his own vintages. When she had let Leeane out, she had put Josh in. He was still cocky and brave. A few hours of heat would help dry that last vestiges of alcohol from the man’s liver. She figured that Josh should be completely sober and feeling very chastened at the moment.

  She picked up a stick and banged it violently on the outside of the box, “Rise and shine!”

  A dull groan came from the box. When she opened the door, she wrinkled her nose. He had vomited in the night and apparently had little shyness about pissing where he lay either.

  “Pig, look what you have become. You wallow in your filth.” The large dark skinned man blinked at her blearily and climbed to his feet. He cleared his throat noisily and spat at her feet.

  Aya raised a brow. Her tone was icy, “I must have been mistaken when I assumed that you found your foolishness in drink.” She shut the door and walked away. She felt a little rush of amusement; he obviously was not quite done cooking. Perhaps he would have a different attitude after baking some more. He certainly would not have any spit left by the next time she visited.

  As Aya walked back to her quarters she saw Layla looking at her walk across the slave compound with wounded and angry eyes. Aya smirked; there was a reason nothing happened on the island that she did not know about. She rose early and kept a finger on the pulse of the place.

  Chapter 11

  The island was her home. She had hated it when her Master had sent her away to go to school. She had studied hard with the knowledge that the sooner she learned, the sooner she could come back to her Master.

  She thought back to the events that had led to her being sent away. She had been sixteen and had resumed her rebellious ways. The beatings of the amah had become so frequent and random that they did little to incite fear. In many ways they just made Aya tougher. Her friend was not made of the same stuff and seemed to suffer more under the abuse. She struggled to do everything right and avoid the slaps, screams and paddle of the increasingly violent old Japanese woman.

  Aya had little trouble finding another willing to risk punishment for the little tastes of freedom. She was becoming increasingly beautiful, her body tall and lithe. She had developed perfectly round apple sized breasts with very high set sharp nipples that showed clearly through the white shift she wore. They practically screamed for attention and she found the arms and hands of men casually, innocently touching her at any opportunity. It seemed like those touches had lit fires in Aya’s mind, fires of excitement and rebellion. That night she had met a boy on the beach, eager to feel more of that wild freedom she craved.

  It was only much later that Aya learned that the old amah had beaten the words out of Adriana. All she knew was she was caught. She had been wearing nothing but drops of sea water and the little white ribbon around her neck. The boy had on less. The overseer and the amah surprised them as they were giggling and wrestling in the sand. Aya never knew what happened to the boy. She did not see him again until many years later. The old amah had been screaming in rage, and she reached down and grabbed Aya’s tender lower lips in a cruel claw, gripping them and crushing them. She often used that humiliating gesture to yank the girls closer so she might more easily slap them or just scream abuse in their faces. Aya was used to pain but tonight she was having none of it. She watched the retreating back of the overseer leading the boy away and she struck the old amah viciously in the face, knocking her back and down.

  “Get your hands off me, you old bitch.” Her words were low and determined. All she knew was she was done being stoic. As the old woman stood up and began to scream in rage and terror the overseer had turned and stood still for a few minutes watching as Aya continued to slap the old woman and growl out her rage and rebellion.

  He finally restrained Aya and dragged her off to the box. He had tied Aya and the old woman had beaten Aya until she fainted. When Aya woke the Master was there. She peered out at him through swollen and blackened eyes. She could taste blood in her mouth from her cut and broken lips. He had a terrible look of rage on his face. She did not learn until later it was provoked not by her actions but her appearance. The old woman had not stopped the beating when she had lost consciousness. Aya was beyond a mass of bruises. She was nearly unrecognizable.

  The old amah grabbed and jerked Adriana to stand before the Master. “Tell him. Tell him what a bad girl Aya is. She sneaks out all the time to play with boys. I check, she still a virgin but she will give it away soon. If I had not caught her tonight she would have let that boy between her legs. She’s a very bad girl.”

  JD held his rage in check but he could see the bruises on Adriana. Her arm was nearly black where the old woman grabbed her. Not only covered with new bruises but he could see the yellows, greens and browns of old bruises. The girl cowered before him, obviously terrorized. JD stepped up and lifted her chin and looked at the broken spirit lurking behind those eyes. This one was already ruined. He spoke softly, “Adriana, do not be afraid. I need to look at your body.” He reached down and pulled her white shift off and looked at the marks on her body from the systematic abuse she had suffered at the hands of the old amah. Most dis
turbing was the pattern of bruises on the girl’s labia. JD could see through the girl’s sparse Asian pubic hair the same black, brown and yellow bruises.

  His eyes turned to the battered body of Aya hanging before him. His eyes tightened when he noticed the older marks on her body too. Her sex was marked with the same bruises and he also noticed several deep scratches where nails had cut into the tender flesh. He looked into Aya’s eyes and saw the anger, deep abiding hate and rage simmering just under the surface. He nodded grimly. Aya was made of tougher stuff than Adriana. She may be battered but she was not beaten. There was something salvageable there.

  Only then did he turn to look at the amah. The old woman shrank back but did not quite avoid the vicious back hand the knocked her to the ground. JD stood over the old woman. “I employed you to keep my property safe. And this is how you betray me.”

  When he heard a bitter triumphant grunt of satisfaction from Aya, he knew he had earned a small amount of loyalty from the battered girl.

  Aya had been taken up to the big house. He had personally nursed her back to health. And when she was well enough he kept her by his side at all times. When he caught her peeking in at him as he played with a slave, her eyes smoldering with curiosity and lust, he knew he would have to send her away. She was too young and too tempting.

  Aya had cried when he sent her away pleading to be allowed to stay.

  Chapter 12

  Aya stopped and looked at the monitor of the security camera focused on the cage Faith was in. Faith was pacing back and forth, and then began to do some kind of exercises. For now Aya decided to let her try to keep herself entertained. Aya knew that boredom was a very valuable tool for breaking a slave. The slave that brought her food was carefully instructed to not speak to her.

  The sight of the girl exercising made Aya grin, she had some ideas to help the girl use up some of her extra energy.

  As she walked back across the compound she stopped and met Layla’s accusing eyes. “Girl, you will refrain from any sexual activity until I tell you different. If any of the overseers command them to give them pleasure you will politely inform them that mistress Aya has ordered you to refuse.” Layla’s eyes bulged out and her mouth opened to protest but Aya held up her hand. “You will attend me tonight.” Aya decided that a few lessons in humility would benefit this slave girl.

  Aya was waiting in the Master’s office when he entered. She stood and knelt. “Master, this slave thanks you for your gift of pleasure you shared with me last night. What are your wishes for this day?”

  “Up with the chickens.” That’s what her grandmother would have said. Faith woke to the sounds of strange birds greeting the dawn. She could tell sunrise was just minutes away. There was a cool breeze blowing through the cage teasing goose pimples up along Faith’s arms and legs and making her pearl sized nipples to harden and rub against the cotton fabric of her thin shift.

  She used her bucket and drank the rest of her water. Sitting back down on the mat, she drew up her knees against her chest and hugged them tight. The island was beautiful. The perfect get away. It was the kind of place on dreamed about escaping to for a vacation. Some vacation.

  Being honest with herself, Faith realized that she was living out one of her favorite fantasies. She’d always dreamed of being whisked away, kidnapped, and taken to a tropical paradise to be used by a handsome older man. She’d loved playing with herself as she pictured being bound and defenseless, beaten and forced to do all kinds of humiliating and perverse things to please her captors. Those scenarios usually made her orgasms soar from “Okay, I can sleep now” to “Oh my freaking gawd!”

  Faith wondered if they knew she was still a virgin. It wasn’t any huge moral decision. She had had plenty of opportunities. There were a couple of times she’d beaten her date off to avoid doing the deed. Truth be told, she was terrified of the act itself. Faith was a perfectionist. She refused to fail at anything.

  Maybe that’s why she loved acting. There were scripts to memorize, a director to obey and guide her and hours of rehearsals before the finished product was put on display. No chance of messing up and looking the fool. That was also why she despised improv. Being put on the spot like that without direction could equal failure. Sex for the first time was like improv. No script, no practice, no chance of clumsiness or mistakes. What if she made a complete mess of things? What if the guy thought she was a bad lay? What if he told everybody what a lousy lover she was? Nope, not Faith’s style. She’d done without rather than risk failure.

  The clinking of keys tore Faith from her thoughts. Fantasy and reality clashed once again. Real life, true abduction and slavery was a hell of a lot different than what she’d imagined.

  The biggest guy she’d ever seen unlocked the door. He s at her, his teeth a gleaming white against his black skin. Faith found herself cowering against the wall of the cage, instantly frightened. He wore the same khaki shorts and uniform shirt the other guards she’d seen wear. She couldn’t help but wonder if the parts she couldn’t see were in proportion to the rest of him.

  He held the door of Faith’s cage open to admit a young woman with a tray. She was tiny and very blonde. Her blue eyes danced as she s in greeting and set the tray down. Putting her fingers to her lips, she let Faith know to remain silent as she went back out and returned with fresh water. She disposed of the contents of Faith’s bucket and returned. When she had completed her chores, the slave bent down and gave Faith a soft, tender, open mouthed kiss.

  Shocked, Faith pushed the slave away. “Sorry,” she thought. “My gate don’t swing that way!”

  Her actions cause the guard to laugh out loud and the girl to give a mock pout. When they left, the guard was still chuckling. Outside of the cage, Faith saw the guard lean down and mummer into the woman’s ear. Whatever he said made the pretty blonde laugh musically, her soprano voice harmonizing with the guard’s baritone chuckles.

  Faith shrugged and looked under the cloth covering her breakfast. More rice. This time it was medlied with some sort of fish and what appeared to be pepper corns or capers. In a separate bowl were several pieces of assorted fresh fruit. She wrinkled her nose. Fish was not on her list of favorite foods but as she wasn’t certain of three squares or this quality on a regular basis, she dug in and ate it. After today, if she was able to stay strong, who knew if they’d ever feed her again.

  Finished, there was nothing left to do but sit and think. Faith used the time to write her script and rehearse it in her head. There was no doubt in her head that she would have several new bruises to keep the ones from yesterday company. Over and over she instructed herself to not cry, to not show fear; not scream. No matter what they did, no matter what they tried to make her do, she wouldn’t be weak, she wouldn’t break and let them win.

  Keys in the lock jangled again. Expecting to see the guard and the slave returning to remove her dishes, she barely glanced at the door of her prison. Instead the Wicked Witch of the East was in the cage. Faith swallowed the lump in her throat. “Okay, Faith. Curtain up. Show time.”

  Chapter 13

  Faith remained where she was, cross legged on her pallet. She rested her cheek on her fist and yawned lazily. Aya stood by the cell door and frowned, waiting. Faith knew what she was giving her a chance to do. Oh, this was gonna hurt bad.

  “Hey there, Aya.” Faith spoke airily. She allowed herself the satisfaction that there was no tremble in her voice. “So, what fun things do you have in store for us today?”

  Aya’s eyes narrowed. Her hand moved closer to the paddle.

  “Are you so stupid that you don’t remember that you were instructed to kneel in my presence to show proper respect?” Aya asked in slow, measured tones. Faith was certain she saw storm clouds hovering over Aya’s head.

  “I was instructed to kneel in the presence of the ‘master’.” Faith used her fingers to make quote marks. There was no way she would ever refer to that pig as her Master. “Sorry, but I didn’t know you were all tha
t important.”

  Aya stood very still and looked at Faith, her face expressionless. And then she s slowly. “No, you are not so stupid, foolish and brave perhaps, but not stupid.” Aya turned on her heel and stepped out of the cage and spoke to the huge black guard. “I want the dress and the water. Then go and get me the covers for the doors.”

  Faith felt a vibration on the sides of her throat letting her know that Aya had turned on the collar. She met Aya’s eyes with an expression from her adolescence that drove her Aunt nuts, that “What? What did I do?” look, raised eyebrows and all. But her expression turned wary and then shocked when the large man stepped into the cage and grabbed the front of her shift and forcibly tore it from her body.

  Aya watched the girl stop herself and deliberately put the look of shocked innocence back on her face. Then when the big man brought two boards that completely covered both ends of the box except for a tiny crack at the top for ventilation. “We will see how our little actress fares without an audience.”