"Have you ever been owned?" The older woman asked. "I mean owned lock,
stock and bare-ass over a barrel -- OWNED."

The word reverberated in the hallway nook of the empty office building
-- and in the hollow pit of the young man's soul. OWNED.

"When I say owned I mean taken - appropriated - having your ass
annexed like so much real estate. Your ass is mine, Bitch. I'm staking
claim to your vacant lot of a life. I'll put your sorry ass to good
use, you sissy-slut, you fucking waste of a human being."

A seething mix of terror and excitement churned inside him.
Incomprehensible though it was, he felt a burgeoning unknown need
flowering underneath his everyday awareness. Sprouting toward
fruition. That this compelling stranger, this beautiful unknown woman,
could name it plainly after one arresting glance fueled his panic. He
felt naked before her.

"From the looks of you I'll bet you couldn't get laid in a women's
prison if you had a handful of pardons, you sniveling shit-heel." She
viewed her booty with the cold eyes of a salvage dealer. "In fact, I
KNOW it. I'll tap into your meager resources. You'll be renovated by
my design. I'll fix your dilapidated ass, you groveling fuckwad. You
are now my personal property."

His inner-self resonated with her appraisal. It felt so good to hear
someone express out-loud the reality of his existence. The shell of
pretense fell from around him. His sham existence exposed, he felt the
refreshing sense of being seen for the first time. Authentically,
genuinely, recognized for what he was, a worthless shill, leading a
second-hand life - an imposter.

"I lay claim to your ass the way Old-World explorers laid claim to new
territories -- they planted the flag of their Rulers. They drove the
pole deep into the soil. I will plant a shaft deep in the surrendering
center of your soft accepting asshole. I will sink my strap-on into
your most private place and purge free-will from the very core of you.
I will usurp your being. I am your Ruler. I will plant my flag in your
sorry ass and replace your humanity with the soul of an automaton; a
life-size replica of a real human being - one that is entirely under
my control. I am your conquering Queen. You will exist solely to
please me."

Though her stark words seemed harsh her manner was cool, almost
affectionate. She smoothed back his hair and then stroked his cheek
with the back of her hand. This only served to further confuse the
young man. Could she possibly mean the things she was saying?
Seriously? Could he dare to hope she was truly serious? He closed his
eyes as a shudder of arousal stirred within him.

"Bitch, look at me." She took hold of his chin and shook. "You will
learn to control your emotions. You will learn because I will teach
you."

He knelt down, involuntarily, under the crushing weight of her words.

Tenderly she held his face to her tight skirt. Only thin fabric
separated him from her sex. Her precious scent awakened the lust of
his submissive nature to full bloom. Renting his anemic personality
from its unsound base. Uprooting his anxious need to cling to unwanted
conformity. Instilling peace in his frail psyche. She OWNED him.

"Excuse me." A timid voice came from behind the woman. "Are you
Mistress Dildo?"

"Who are you?" Asked the perplexed lady.

"I'm your 5:30 appointment. I got held up. Sorry I'm late." The timid
man looked down at the floor. "I'm so bad. I deserve a spanking I
guess."

"Who are YOU?!?" She asked the kneeling young man.

"I'm here to fix the copier."