Owning Her: Beautiful Domestic Discipline

by Susan Sass

  From the darkness there was the sighing groan of someone in the throes of passion, and Layla giggled, and exclaimed, “Those guys better save some for me.”

  Faith shrugged, “You don’t have to babysit me. I will be fine. Go join them if you want.”

  Layla shook her head, “Oh god, I couldn’t. I am on restriction. I haven’t had a real orgasm in more than a week and if someone touched me now, I think I Might spontaneously combust.”

  “Restriction?”

  “Yes, no orgasms; that is what Mistress said I must do to stop thinking about rewards. But I think it is backfiring. It’s all I can think about now, especially with the thing happening tomorrow.”

  Faith blinked, “Why don’t you just do it anyway? How would she know?”

  Layla stiffened and then shuddered, “Oh you have looked into those eyes. You know what that is like. She can see right into my heart. There is no way I could lie to her.” And then Layla softened, “And I couldn’t lie even if it were possible. Not to her, never to her. It would break my heart.”

  Faith again heard the profound undeniable love in those words, in the girl’s voice, and remembered the look on the Master’s face when Aya was so hurt. What was it about that woman that inspired such devotion from Master and slave alike? “You love her.” It was not a question; there was no question about it.

  “Oh, more than anything.”

  “Why?”

  “How could I not love her?” Then Layla added almost as a second thought, a given, “Her and Master. She demands it, and she looms so strong, so powerful, so beautiful, so wise, so… so…” Layla stopped and giggled, “I don’t know exactly why. All I know is I do. I cannot imagine not.” Then Layla gave her a squeeze, “You will love her too.”

  Faith thought about those words, and thought about her own confused feelings about Aya. She sensed that the things Layla had said made sense, in a oddly nonsensical way. She felt that compulsion to attend to the will and whims of that woman. She shook her head; it was just the hole, just her fear. It couldn’t be anything more than that.

  Layla turned to her, looking into Faith’s eyes, and s softly, her lashes still wet with tears, shimmering in the light from the flames. “I thought I wouldn’t. Hell I thought I wouldn’t ever love anybody, much less her, and I did. She taught me that I could love.” The she pushed Faith away, “And here comes our Marc back from his frolicking. And I must go back to the dorms and get some sleep. Mistress wants me rested for tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow, what is happening tomorrow?”

  Layla turned and gave Faith a puzzled look, “Don’t you know? Mistress is going let nearly everyone on the island fuck me all night long. It’s going to be some kind big gang bang competition. It’s going to be a big party. There is even going to be prizes.” Layla kind of gave a convulsive little giggle, “I have not really let go for days and now I am getting more than I bargained for. I hope I can handle it and not disappoint you guys.”

  Marc chuckled, “You had better get that rest. Victor and I have been planning something very special for you. And your dance card is all filled in. We are right after the Doc and tiffany.”

  Faith was looking at the two of them, her mouth hanging open in shock. Layla looked at her and laughed, “Don’t look so jealous, girlfriend; you will get your turn someday.” Then she wrapped her arms around Faith and whispered, “Kiss me good bye, girlfriend, and come see me tomorrow night. It will be fun.” Then she pressed her lips to Faith’s.

  “I’m not…” Faith began in protest but was silenced by Gabrielle’s mouth on hers. Faith felt Gabrielle tremble as they embraced and Faith’s body responded in kind. They were as two beings adrift in an ocean of desire, clinging to each other for comfort and safety. With a last hug, Layla broke their embrace and bid goodnight to Marc. Their kiss was deep, lasting an eternity and Faith felt her heart would break at the vision.

  Even though Faith was sure that Marc was spent, his voice still held that special huskiness she learned to identify as desire as he spoke softly in Layla’s ear.

  “Remember, sweetheart, you are never alone,” Faith heard a soft sob from Layla. It seemed to her that this was the first time Layla was truly willing to accept what Marc was telling her.

  “We will use you well.” Marc continued. “But our ultimate desire is to fully welcome you as one of us.”

  Layla’s sobs became even more audible.

  “It’s been too long, sweet sister. It’s time to come home and be loved.” Marc hooked a finger under Layla’s chin and lifted her face to meet his with tear stained eyes. “We’ve been waiting over four years to welcome you.”

  Layla nodded, crying harder and ran to the safety of solitude. Marc walked calmly through the tangle of bodies and gathered up Faith’s shift and his shorts. He steered her towards the path that lead to the compound, his arm around her waist.

  “Well, Cinderella, its time. Let’s rinse off the sand and get you back to our Mistress.”

  Faith reciprocated by winding her arm Marc and willingly walked with him.

  Chapter 6

  “What is it about her?” Faith asked.

  “Who do you mean?” Marc asked.

  “Aya, Layla loves her. You adore her. Nobody says anything bad about her.” Faith shook her head in confusion. Even she had the compulsion to see to her every need when she was recovering. Even though she found her anger during the tedious posture and grace exercises, even when she’d convinced herself that her vigil was out of pure pity, Faith couldn’t get out of her head the need, beyond the fear of the pit, to please her tormentor mistress. She would never forget the image of Aya clinging to her as she came, nor would she ever forget the connection that bound the two of them together as Aya’s screams of ecstasy vibrated though her whole being.

  “Why should we not?” Marc asked simply. “She is our link to the Master. She demands our loyalty and love for him. She knows how to draw out and maintain the best of who we are. Without her, our poor Master wouldn’t be able to do what he has to do and enjoy us as his diversion. Logically, we love her.”

  Faith shook her head. “It’s more than that. I see it on your faces when you talk about her or look at her. When you talk about serving, you say ‘and the master’ like it’s an afterthought. It’s like she’s more important than just JD’s henchwoman.”

  At the mention of his master’s name, Faith felt Marc’ arm stiffen around her but he continued walking.

  “We all know that our ultimate devotion is to our Master.” He replied patiently. “But most of us rarely get one on one time with him. When we do, we consider it the greatest of privileges. Just because Aya is the trainer and manager, we have a lot more direct contact so it is natural to feel a certain closeness to her. Sometimes it can be difficult to remember our love for her is ultimately our love for our Master through her. She is our mistress because that is what he wants although I must admit, if the position were reassigned tomorrow, it would be difficult to make the shift. She is a unique being, perfectly suited for the job.”

  “He loves her too.”

  Marc laughed. “That is probably the greatest understatement I’ve ever heard.”

  “Why all the others then? Why don’t they just go off together and leave us to our own lives? Why take us and make us into something we’re not? Why slaves?”

  “Again you’re assuming that this wasn’t our destiny. Take anyone here past training and ask them if they would rather go back. You won’t find a single taker. I know you think we’re all brainwashed or something, but the fact is there’s not one of us here who doesn’t wear his or her bondage with pride. It will be the same for you one day. You weren’t just plucked up and sent here at random, there is something in you that makes you perfectly suited for the life of a slave or you wouldn’t have been chosen.”

  “But what?” Faith cried out in frustration. “I know almost all of your stories. You like being a slave and hated living in the outside world. Some were into this kink and
applied to come here. There are others, like Layla who are here ‘cause their other lives were out of control or they were rescued from one hell or another. I was happy where I was. I liked being a student and looked forward to a career. Sure I read about and played with the whole Dom/sub thing on line but that’s as far as it went. Why me?”

  “When it’s the right time, you’ll know why and by that time, it won‘t be so important to you anymore.”

  “No,” Faith shook her head. “I will never figure it out. I will always believe I was a Mistake and want my freedom back. I will never love or be devoted to JD. To me, he will always be a demented control freak with too much money.”

  Before Faith could take another breath to continue her rant, her lead was jerked tight and she was pulled along at a stumbling half-trot to the shower area in the compound. Marc brought them to an abrupt halt in front of the changing benches and pulled her up by her collar to face him.

  “I’ve been patient with you. I’ve allowed you to grieve what you’ve lost so you can embrace your future. Because of your interruption in training due to our Mistress’ difficulties, I’ve given you far more lee-way than normal. But…” Faith froze in horror. Marc’ usually merrily dancing eyes were glinting cold anger in the compounds lights. His words came out in a feral hiss. “…I will no longer tolerate such blatant disrespect for our Master!”

  The next thing Faith knew was that she was sailing through the air, landing on her belly across Marc’ lap. The first blow to her backside forced a scream that echoed off of the buildings surrounding them. The next responding crack caused such fiery pain, it knocked her breath out so much so she couldn’t scream. The blows came fast and hard and with each blow, Marc punctuated with his words.

  “You. Will. Never. Ever. Refer. To. Our. Master. Again. By. His. Name. You. Will. Never. Again. Speak. Of. Him. With. Disrespect. You. Will. Stop. This. Pity. Party. And. Begin. To. Obey. And. Work. With. Your. Training.”

  Faith sobbed and struggled. His words hurt her soul even as his spanking hurt her ass, turning it a bright red even under the security lights that illuminated the compound at night. Her cries changed from outraged shrieks to desperate pleas for mercy. The spanking changed in rhythm and intensity. Marc spent time delivering them. He would stroke the sore cheeks with the palm of his hand in between as if measuring the heat her skin was giving off. Some of the strikes were light, almost a caress, some were sharp. Most of them landed on the rounded center of her backside, others were centered almost over her perineum.

  When Faith’s sobs slowed and became moans as she unconsciously began to reach for the next hit, Marc expertly reached between her legs and found the folds of her labia and inner thighs soaked. A light flick of her clit with the tip of his finger made Faith gasp and spread her legs wide. A second flick and her entire body went rigid. Marc knew a third flick would send her to the orgasm that had been building and ebbing all day. Instead, he dumped Faith unceremoniously to the ground. She lay there staring up at Marc in shock, both panting hard. He held out his hand, the one that spanked her and tested its effects. Her juices glistened on his fingers and she could smell her own sweet musky scent.

  “Now tell me,” Marc demanded, “that you don’t belong here!”

  Marc finished the punishment by throwing Faith under the stream of an icy cold shower, making her stay under its torrent until she was clean of sand and dirt. Shivering from the combination of an unexpected cold bath and humiliation, Faith continued to cry as she put on her tunic and Marc led her in uncharacteristic silence back to the mansion.

  Once there, Marc stopped long enough in one of the bathrooms to clean the tears and snot from her face and run a comb through her hair.

  “I’m, I’m, so..sor..sorry.” Faith sobbed, finally finding her voice. That fact that she inspired such anger in the always gentle and kind Marc, ripped at her heart more than any beating could. Softening, he held her until she could get control of herself and then tenderly kissed her.

  “Here, when someone is truly sorry, forgiveness is freely given.” Fresh tears of relief broke out as she clung to him. Once calm, Marc washed her face again and held out a towel for her to dry it. He was relieved to see her reaction to the spanking. He had begun to wonder if the interruption in her training hadn’t ruined things for her. He was very glad to see her progress back on track.

  Leading her to Aya’s room, Marc waited for his Mistress’ to beckon them in. Marc snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. Faith kneeled immediately with her newly acquired grace. Marc knelt beside her and offer the leash to Aya.

  “I’m returning your charge to you, Mistress. I hope that you will be please to know the evening was a huge success.”

  Chapter 7

  Aya looked up from some reports she was reading, and gave Marc a sharp look, rarely were his words to be taken at face value. She was well aware that under his armor of humor and perennial banter was a caring and observing spirit. Aya had learned to listen for the insights that lurked behind his jokes and had learned many things. She took in Faith’s red eyes and flushed cheeks. Clearly the girl had been crying.

  Slowly, languorously Aya stood and stretched, “So how was your swim?”

  Marc grinned, “Delightful, absolutely delightful,” he bowed low, going down on one knee, “This humble slave must thank you for such a fine reward.”

  Aya waved at him away impatiently, dismissing him silently, tired of his effusive words, her eyes taking in the kneeling girl, examining her closely. Faith was kneeling in the prescribed stance, her eyes on the floor. But it seemed like she was hardly aware of her surroundings, like her Mind was Million Miles away. Her hair was damp and every once in a while her lips twitched and her brow creased as the storm of thoughts and feelings inside her shook her.

  Aya gracefully knelt before the oblivious girl, staring at that face, “Tell me, little slave, what you have learned tonight that holds your attention so.”

  Faith kept staring at the floor, blinking, a deep frown of concentration on her face. When she finally spoke her voice was soft, distant, almost pleading, “Learned? I learned they love you, they all love you and I can’t understand that. I can’t deny it but I can’t understand that.” Faith looked up suddenly her eyes wide and confused, “Mistress, how come I can see it? How come I can see it but I can’t feel it?”

  Faith’s words shook Aya a little, stirring up her own storms of thoughts and feelings. They spoke directly to Aya’s own demons, her compulsion for perfection, her doubts about deserving this devotion, how she always felt more comfortable with fear, obedience, loyalty than she ever did with the unconditional nebulous indefinable thing called love. She had to swallow down a sudden lump in her throat before she could answer, “Cannot feel love for me, little slave? But you are not supposed to love me.”

  Faith jerked and lost her posture as she sort of lurched toward Aya, and then realizing, shrank back. It was a strange spastic movement of attraction, revulsion, protest and denial. Aya watched in fascination as Faith twisted and writhed within her predicament. Finally Faith collapsed to the floor, her voice strangled, “No, no, that is not it. I can see it. I know it when I see it on their faces, all their faces, even his face, and it’s in their voices and their words. I can see love, I know it is love, but I have never felt that, never felt that ever for anyone.” Her last words came out as a strangled cry, “Why can’t I feel that?”

  Aya s softly, “Oh, little slave, that is the easiest of answers. You cannot feel that because you fear it. You call it slavery and try to hate it. You will only begin to feel it, taste it, savor its sweetness when you stop fighting. All you need to do is surrender.”

  Faith was literally struggling within herself, writhing and contorting as her body suffered with its predicament. It was true, she could protest that she was happy in her old life, that she wanted nothing more than to wish all this away and be home, back in school, but there had always been this one thing Missing. There had been this single thing, thi
s great hollow place at her center that nothing had ever filled. She had told herself that she just had not met the right guy, but then she wondered, there had been lots of really great guys but when she had been with them, the empty place had not been filled, not been touched at all and she had walked away from each and every one, telling herself that they had not been ‘the one’. Was this what Marc was talking about? Was this the thing that made fate bring her here? Was she really a slave at heart?

  Softly she was babbling to herself, muttering, “No, oh god no,” and then a child’s cry, “I want to go home.”

  Aya remained on her knees watching the girl, instinctively letting her fight this battle on her own. Amazingly throughout Faith’s struggle she never once took her eyes off Aya’s. When Faith’s body slowed and calmed, her breathing coming in soft gasps, her face again wet with tears, Aya spoke again, a soft soothing croon, “You are home, little slave.”