Authors note: So I recently started reading the series "The Gender Game" by Bella Thorne. It's a great series on Amazon. If you've got kindle unlimited you can even read it for free! Ever since I've read it, I've had these ideas bouncing around my head, and so this story was born. I don't claim credit for the universe, which is Bella's; I'm just playing in her sandbox. I'm sure I won't get the details perfect (quite a few things I will be changing to fit into my story), and I won't include any details from her stories so I encourage everyone to go read them!
I am a GRA trying to get my PhD, so I don't usually re-read before I post. There will be errors and typos. I'm sorry, I wish I could say there won't be, but that would be lying :)
Author's warning: This story will be dark with explicit sex and non-consent themes. This is your only warning. If you're not interested in reading those types of things, this story is NOT for you.
Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of Owned.
Some people are simply unlucky. I've been told more times than I care to count that we make our own luck, that I just make excuses… But really, some people are just unlucky.
Which is why I am currently running for my life, or at least running for a life worth living. Matreus is nothing like our parent country Patreus- we don't execute criminals. Instead, men who commit crimes are shipped off to the mines to work, kept away from polite company. Women who commit crimes, well, they often wish we did have the death penalty. I hadn't really stolen much, just enough to get by on. Since I had left school the previous year, my life had been a bit of a mess. It's not that I'm not bright or dedicated, I just seem to have some trouble focusing- I had loved the dress shop I worked in after school. Quitting classes to design full time seemed like a no brainer, until I got bored. I loved the auto shop where I worked part time, keeping myself entertained after mindless hours designing. Until I got bored with that too.
The problem with Matreus is that everyone is so serious. Sixteen year olds are expected to know what they want to do with their whole lives, and if you bounce around a bit, suddenly you're "unmanageable, unreliable, and unhireable". And once you're unhireable, what else are you supposed to do but steal?
I lived on the outskirts of town in the house my mother had owned, god rest her soul, but I couldn't head there. My best chance was to lose the wardens in the back alleys down town, and then go hide out for a few days; no one care about a few cans of corn for long. Unfortunately, the months of scrounging had taken a toll on my body- my once strong legs that could have carried me miles had wasted away. A stitch in my side was throbbing; if I put my hand to it I would feel the bony protrusions of my ribs; further proof of the difficulty of the past months. But instead, I put my hands over my head, knowing that if I could just stretch out the stitch would disappear.
Maybe I wasn't so unlucky after all, because if I wouldn't have put my hands up at that moment, I would have been hit with the industrial taser gun of the warden who appeared from nowhere in front of me.
Instead I heard, "She's got her hands up! Don't shoot!"
The beefy warden was on me in a second pulling me into a headlock and wrestling my arms behind my back.
"You are under arrest for theft against a citizen," she said brusquely. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a sentencing."
The reading of rights was different than it once was; as a child I had learned in history classes about the old times before the Great War; they had an entire system designed to decide if you were guilty or innocent- they called it a trial. But that is what led to the Great War to begin with; citizens getting away with crimes, vigilantes enforcing their own morals through violence… Eventually the government waged war against its citizens, and things got ugly. The use of chemical weapons changed things- the environment was mostly destroyed, and most people died, either in the blasts or in the famines that followed.
From the ashes, a new society was born. Men immediately began establishing the new government, but this time, women argued back. Men, they claimed, and their inability to accept change had caused the Great War. It was time for women to be in charge. But of course the men would not give up their power. The women left and founded Matreus, leaving the men to re-establish their patriarchy. Of course, some women stayed. They didn't think they needed the feminists who were crossing the river to establish a society where women were in charge.
Of course they were proven wrong. Over the past hundreds of years the countries have become more extreme. Now in Patreus, women had no rights all together. To leave the house they had to be escorted by a man, they couldn't vote or own property. It was a horror show. Matreus wasn't that much better- men didn't have voting rights here, but at least they were recognized as their own person. They could have jobs, own their own home. It wasn't so bad. I had never been to Patreus before; free spirited girls weren't exactly welcome. However as I felt the colds metal of the handcuffs click against my wrists, I knew I was going to find out first hand what the land across the river was like.
I was hauled into a car, and immediately began talking.
"I didn't take much, I swear! I was going to go back and pay for it once I have a job again; I think that Madam Rogers is going to hire me back. I swear I'll pay back double what I took.."
The wardens said nothing, staring stonily ahead, but I continued pleading the whole way to the station house.
"She stole from a grocery," the stone faced warden told a woman wearing a card that identified her as Sandra Long.
"Madam Long," I tried again, "I only took what I needed to survive. I was going to pay it back when I got a job, honest."
"Hush," Madam Long told me quickly. "You were caught red handed by a warden. We don't make exceptions in the rules- This isn't America!"
She giggled softly at her own joke, while I sat there stunned- this woman was going to sit and laugh while she filled out the paperwork to destroy my life.
"So I can just do community service right? Parole?" I asked hopefully, as she studied me.
"Well that depends- there's a system to everything dear," Madam Long told me, seeming unconcerned. "Name?"
"Jade Alfher," I replied, hopeful. I had never been in trouble with the law before.
"617-639-613," I replied, the number I was assigned at birth rolling off my tongue.
Sandra's face furrowed slightly as she read, and I waited my heartbeat finally starting to slow. Then she began copying information into a form.
"See what we do here is answer these questions, and then the computer tells us if you're a candidate for rehabilitation or not," Sandra explained cheerily, as if she was explaining the soda menu at a café.
Her eyebrows furrowed again slightly as the computer processed, the wardens shifted forward slightly to see the computer over the counter, and then her face wiped blank.
"Jade Alfher, you are not a candidate for rehabilitation. Matreus sentences to repay your debts to society on the other side of the river," Madam Long said in monotone.
The wardens started to pull me away, but I struggled.
"Wait! There has to be a mistake! I've never been in any trouble before!"
"Madam Alfher, the system is based on potential to re-offend. With your lack of education and inability to keep a job, you will never be a productive member of this society. But I daresay they'll find some use for you on the other side," Madam Long said, her tone suddenly cold.
My heart wasn't racing. Honestly, I was shocked it was still beating. I was dragged out of the plain office space into a hallway with cement floors.
"Repay my debt…" I said weakly, thinking of the $8 in corn I had taken.
The warden must have thought I was asking a question, and of everything I had asked, this was the one she decided to answer.
"You will be sold to a Patrian marriage maker. The money will go to repay the citizens you betrayed with your misdeeds," she told me stiffly.
"But it just a few dollars!" I cried, still unable to find my heartbeat.
"Which means you will finally be contributing to Matreus," she said, a cruel smile on her face.
I didn't speak anymore, as she pushed me into a cell.
"Someone will be along to collect you soon."
The door clanged shut and I was thrown into near darkness; the only light came from a dim bulb on the ceiling that seemed too far away to really light the room.
It's probably so high so that I wouldn't be able to hang myself, I thought darkly. A marriage maker was the worst possible fate: I would be sold to a company that would then turn around and sell me to the highest bidding Patrian man in want of a wife. As nausea built in my stomach I scanned the room. It contained a small cot built into the wall- more of a bench than a bed- and a chamber pot. With no desire to go near that, I forced the bile down and breathed carefully: in through the nose, out through the mouth I thought. Or was it the other way around? My mom had a trick for everything: how to get burnt on grime off of a pot, how to make up with a friend, how to calm down before being sold to a misogynistic pig, I added, almost managing to smile.
Time seemed to both stretch forever and snap forward to the moment that I heard noise outside of my door. I couldn't have even guessed how long I had paced through the cell.
"Jade Alfher, back of the cell!" came the deep voice of the warden who had thrown me in here.
I complied quickly, unsure of the punishment should I abstain. When the door opened, Stone-Face was accompanied by a thin man in a blazer. He had greasy dark hair and a mustache that he seemed to catch in his lips when he talked.
"At least this one is pretty," he commented crossly, as Stone-face entered.
"Let's go," she grunted at me, ignoring the man's comment. "Mister Gordon is going to want better light I'm sure."
"I'm not a member of your society," the man replied, sarcasm dripping off the words. "So refrain from trying to use your titles on me."
When Matreus was founded, women were granted the freedoms from societal oppressions they had faced before. Instead of being forced to take their husbands name, they got to keep the family name. Instead of being identified by their marital status as Mrs. and Ms., all females were identified as Madam. Instead, it was men who were forced to give up the moniker and be identified by status: married men were referred to as Master so-and-so while unmarried men were Mister.
"Have you gone and found yourself a slave, I mean bride, since we last talked?" Stone face asked, her voice saccharine sweet.
Mister Gordon ignored her entirely and instead turned to study me, upon seeing me looking at him, he rolled his eyes dramatically, but said nothing.
We entered a room with bright white walls and white tile. The light even seemed white here. The room was mostly save a set of white drawers built into the wall and several chairs next to them; most distressing was a table similar to what you would see at a doctor's office near the drawers. Stone face released me as we entered and turned to lock the door.
"So let's see what we are working with," Mister Gordon mused quietly, undoing my cuffs.
I opened my mouth to ask what on earth was happening, but before I could get more than a syllable out, Mr. Gordons slapped me smartly across the face. I cried out and stumbled backwards.
"You will not speak unless spoken too wench," he said firmly.
Stone-face grumbled under her breath; even as a prisoner she didn't like to see a Lady Citizen hit.
"Do you bother to feed you citizens Warden Meriam, or do you prefer to let them starve?" Mr. Gordon asked, conversationally.
"Well, since we don't enslave half the population, they're pretty free to make their own choices," she replied back, as if this was a normal conversation.
It was almost as if they were flirting.
"If my dog got this skinny, I'd shoot him," he muttered.
"I've heard you like your women skinny over there," Merriam replied, suddenly interested in her hand held.
Mr. Gordon didn't respond, but continued his circle of me.
"Strip," he commanded suddenly.
"The shit?" I responded incredulously.
Mr. Gordon responded by grabbing my throat and pulling me to him, cutting my airflow.
"I said that you would be quiet," he whispered, his voice dangerous. "If you speak again, there will be severe consequences."
I gasped for breath, clawing at his hand, but he held firm for a moment more before releasing me.
"Now I said strip. Don't make me repeat myself."
I stood frozen, unable to comply- no man had ever seen me naked, let alone commanded me to strip.
Gordon rolled his eyes again, but didn't strike.
"All of you Matrians are so repressed it's amazing you can stand to be naked long enough to bathe."
He pulled out a pen knife, and I immediately began to back up; I wasn't a huge fan of pain. My face still burned from where he'd hit me. I had no interest in being cut.
"Warden Merriam," Gordon called out authoritatively.
Warden Merriam approached with disinterest, but grabbed me firmly, holding me by my upper arms. Mr. Gordon approached and drug his pen knife through my shirt without fanfare.
I cried out but Mr. Gordon appeared too distracted with the task at hand to care.
"It would be just as easy to pull it over her head you know," Warden Merriam muttered, her face back to the carefully blank mask.
"It's about the message," Mr. Gordon replied. "Besides she won't need these anymore anyways."
With a similarly fluid motion, he ran the knife down the left leg of my loose fitting cotton pants before repeating the action with the right leg. Standing in front of this man in nothing but my bra and underwear, I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to cry.
"Finally she shut up," Mr. Gordon said snidely. "I wasn't sure this one would."
He paused for a moment to look at my body in the soft blue lace- one of the pretty little things I had designed myself when I worked for Madam Rodgers.
"These are quite lovely. I wouldn't have expected it from someone who dresses so… not," he said, as I opened my eyes. "Go on girl, tell me where you got them."
I stared at him dumbly, waiting for it to be a trick- but then he slapped me.
"You will speak when spoken to and be silent when told!" he said, his voice angry, tone loud.
"I made them," I gasped, tears burning my eyes. "I worked as a designer and seamstress for Madam Rodger. Women loved my underthings."
Mr. Gordon nodded carefully, staring at me calculatingly.
"Take them off or I'll cut them off," he commanded.
"Decided you want to keep those did you?" Warden Merriam laughed.
"Like I said, they're very pleasing," Mr. Gordon replied.
"The clasp," I mumbled, unable to reach it with how I was held.
"Well how nice, it's right up front," Mr. Gordon practically cooed. "How convenient."
He quickly popped the silver latch that was molded into a rose, and my breasts sprang free. He pushed the straps off of my shoulders where they caught above Warden Merriam's hands on my arms. She allowed it to fall to floor as I leaned forward to push my panties down my legs.
I stood up, fighting to cover myself, but Warden Merriam wouldn't allow me the freedom of movement.
"If you think you can manage," Warden Merriam huffed, "I do have things to do."
"Yes, we are fine," Gordon said, his eyes, never leaving my chest.
Merriam dropped me at once and stalked to the door. I immediately covered myself with my hands.
"Well you've certainly managed to keep your curves even as you've starved," Gordon said, conversationally, as if we were discussing the weather. "If you continue to cover yourself I'll chain you."
I tried to force myself to drop my hands, I really did, but it just wasn't in my nature.
With a roll of the eyes and a huff, Mr. Gordon walked to the wall and pushed a button. Two steel rods descended from the ceiling near where I stood. Gordon forced first my right arm up, then my left to cuff my wrists above my head, my arms fully out stretched.
"Your resistance is going to cost Matreus some of their profit girl," Gordon said, as if I cared about how much money Matreus got from this.
Mr. Gordon walked back to me with his handheld out and began to muse out loud as he filled out a form.
"Underweight, but with delicious tits- big, round, and perky…"
I flushed bright red.
"Good hips- seem nice and wide… muscle tone in legs is good enough… no one wants to fuck a man anyways…"
I flinched as he ran his hands down the front and back of my thighs, grabbing at the muscles, but said nothing. He grabbed at my hands and rubbed the palms firmly.
"No callouses… no apparent damage to skin anywhere…" he muttered as he circled me again.
"Girl do you have any scars? You can tell me to save my search…."
"It's Jade," I replied before I could stop myself.
Mr. Gordon stopped his circle in front of me, letting my statement hang in the air. He shoved his handheld into the holster on his hip before approaching me.
"You're chained and naked at my mercy and have the nerve to correct me?" he asked.
"I didn't like being called girl," I said softly, unsure if this was a question I was supposed to answer.
"I'll call you whatever the fuck I want," he said, pulling his hand up to slap me again, before pausing. "You're lucky I want to unload you soon and don't want you bruised."
Instead of slapping me, he walked partially around me and slapped my ass three times quick in succession, each hitting the same spot. I cried out and swung wildly from my bonds, but couldn't escape the blows.
"Now girl do you have any scars?" he asked, as if he hadn't just spanked me.
"No," I replied softly.
My skin was very soft, very smooth, and uninterrupted by freckles, scars, or other birth marks- it seemed to be very popular with the boys I had entertained in school.
"Well that will add some points- it seems like most of you Matrians are like wild bores, fighting all of the time and ending up covered in scars."
I bit my lip, not responding to his taunt about my people. All Lady Citizens in Matreus took extensive martial arts training to ensure that one was never the victim of a wayward man (men were not allowed to take fighting classes), and many found it an enjoyable pass time. Like most things, I grew tired of defense classes after a time, and never progressed to the point that injuries were common.
Suddenly, Mr. Gordon was pulling my lips open.
"Bite me and I swear to god I'll pull each of your teeth," he said, his voice calm; I believed him.
He looked at my teeth and gums as if I was a horse at auction before nodding and writing some more. Turning his back on me he walked away from me a few paces before turning back and showing me the screen of his handheld.
"Read the letters," he said, before chuckling and adding "I assume you know how?"
I bristled, but did as he asked. He made the text smaller until I couldn't make out the letters anymore before nodding.
I feared a beating, but he just muttered, "Excellent vision" and continued on with whatever he was writing. Walking back to me, he pulled my hair tie out roughly, and began to unwind the braid I had secured my hair in before leaving. It was a complicated loop structure in which I pulled the ends up to the base of my head to start, thus shortening the hair, and he sighed impatiently as he pulled it out. He sighed in triumph as my hair finally fell loose to the small of my back.
Mr. Gordon ran his fingers through my hair for a moment, untangling the bits he had messed with his hurried removal of the braid.
"Is it dyed?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
"What?" I asked, confused.
"Is this your natural hair?" he repeated, coming around in time for me to see yet another eye roll.
"Yes…?" I said, my statement sounding more like a question.
"Not many blondes in Patreus… that will sell well. How long since you've cut it?" he asked.
"I trimmed it myself a few weeks ago," I replied, indignant at the implication I was ungroomed.
He rolled his eyes again; surely he was going to get a headache doing that.
"I mean how long have you been letting it grow for it to get this long?"
I hadn't really cut my hair since my mom died; she always wanted me to let it grow, I always cut it in the bob that most Matrian girls favored. When she died, I couldn't bring myself to cut it.
"Seven years," I said tersely.
"How old are you?" he asked suddenly, as if he had forgotten.
"Ugh," he replied. "Not even an adult."
"I was an adult at 16," I snapped.
He just raised his eyebrows at me.
"I'm well aware that Matrians decided that 16 was an adult, but in Patreus, basic school runs through 18. Most are in school until 25. Of course I see you just barely finished your basics…"
I had to fight the urge to say something, amazed I hadn't been hit for my last comment.
Holstering his hand held again, he turned and in one motion grabbed both of my breasts. I startled, but was silenced by his words.
"Say one word and I'll forget my desire to have you unbruised."
My breathing as rapid, but I was silent. He didn't talk as he squeezed my flesh slowly, rotating between watching my breasts and my reaction. He switched to bouncing them as if he were weighing fruit in the market. Then to my horror he began to circle his fingers over them softly circling in towards my nipples. He grinned widely as my nipples hardened at his touch, and I flushed red.
He circled my nipples softly, and I closed my eyes as my thighs clenched, furious at my body for reacting at all.
"Eyes open," he demanded.
I ignored him, but then he pinched my right nipple forcefully. I cried out as my eyes opened in shock.
He went back to slowly circling my nipples, and I swear I saw him look down at my clenched thighs.
"You're very sensitive aren't you?" he chuckled. "Probably sensitive to pain as well?"
He punctuated his question by slowly increasing pressure on my left nipple until I cried out.
"Yep," he laughed. "Someone will enjoy that! Well this is all I needed with you standing…"
He began pulling my hands down from the ceiling and then pushed me towards the table. I began to panic; surely he didn't mean to strap me to that.
"If you make me call the warden back for this, I swear I'll make you regret it," he said, grabbing my hair so that he could twist my head and speak directly into my ear. "Get on the table and lay down."
On shaky legs, I took the last step to the table and sat down, gingerly laying back. In one motion, he pulled my hips to the edge of the table, and then clasped a belt across my hips. He walked up and clasped another belt just under my breasts. My hands were clipped above my head, and I was effectively immobilized from the waist up, my feet hung free off of the table. To my horror, he pulled out telescoping poles from the bottom of the table- they were stirrups. I kicked out as he grabbed my right ankle, but he didn't seem to notice as he quickly secured my foot to the stirrup. I cried out as he repeated the motion with my left, but he just chuckled.
"All you Matrians are such prudes," he said, as he clicked the stirrups out, forcing my legs about three feet apart.
"What is it you have against shaving?" he asked, as he reached down and touched the soft blonde curls at the apex of my thighs.
I didn't realize I was crying until the salty water hit my lips, but then it was too late to stop.
"Hush, hush," he said absentmindedly as he felt the patch of hair. "We will shave it off. You have remarkably little body hair elsewhere, do you shave it?"
"No," I whispered. "I just never had much."
"Well we will get rid of what you do have soon enough," he said, as if I would be pleased.
"So, I wonder… are you as sensitive here as your lovely tits?" he asked, as if he expected me to answer. To my silence he replied, "Come now, surely you know if you're sensitive… no? Well I'll find out."
With that he moved both hands down and began gently massaging my inner thigh where the band of my panties would have laid had he not forced me to strip. Then he drug one finger through the curls between my legs, delighted to find them slightly damp.
"Sensitive indeed," he beamed.
He circled my clit softly, and I clenched all of my muscles to avoid bucking, not that I could have anyways. My brain was like an angry bee hive with thoughts flying around, stinging me repeatedly. Why was my body responding to his horrifying touch?
"Don't feel bad girl, a lot of girls get wet during this; it's your naturally submissive nature coming out."
Even with tears in my eyes, I managed to roll them at that but then his finger was at my opening and I was squeezing them shut again.
"Eyes open," he demanded.
I opened my eyes quickly, unsure what he would do if I didn't comply this time. He pushed his finger in slowly, watching my discomfort before meeting my barrier.
"You're a virgin," he gasped, shock evident on his face.
I nodded slowly, afraid of how he would respond.
"Son of a whore. Of course the prettiest girl we ever get in would be a fucking virgin… I can't fuck you now. Your price just doubled… It makes sense with how fucking tight you are though… I can't believe you've never been fucked but got so wet… someone is going to love you…"
With that he withdrew his finger and I thought we were done, but then he pushed back further. As he touched my ass lightly, I cried out and tried to get away, despite the secure bindings.
"So a virgin here as well I guess?" he asked, his voice disappointed.
I nodded frantically.
He moved away and I sighed in relief. He came back with a canister of cream and small spatula.
"This might burn a bit," he warned. "Cry as much as you'd like."
With that he began slathering my lady parts in the cream. Immediately it was like my skin was burning. He began spreading the cream down my legs and up onto my belly and I started to scream. He followed it by dabbing cream under my arms, applying a thin layer down to my fingers.
"It was burn out the hair," he explained. "You'll never get hair anywhere this gel goes again.
It seemed like an eternity, but I expect it was only minutes before he was wiping it off. Sure enough, my blonde girls and bits of peach fuzz were completely gone. It was startling to see my mound totally bare, but my relief at the burning being over was paramount.
"Just wait until someone touches you now- you thought it felt good before… luckily that honor is still mine," he said as he turned to put away the rag.
I gasped as he turned back to me, with what was unmistakably a small pink vibrator.
"Have you ever used one of these before?" he asked playfully, seeming shocked when I shook my head no with wide eyes. "Have you ever even masturbated?"
"No," I muttered my cheeks turning pink.
Mr. Gordon smirked and replied, "Well no one can forget their first orgasm, so even though I don't get to fuck you at least I get to give you that…"
My mind was reeling; there's no way I could do that while this man watched me. I had heard enough about sex that I knew what it was, but I had never been particularly interested. I kissed a few boys in school, but that was about the extent of my experience…
I started as he touched the small vibrating egg to my stomach, circling my naval. He drug it up my skin and circled my nipples, first my right then my left.
"I'm giving you an advantage sweetie," he said, conspiratorially. "I'm just supposed to put it on your clit and time how long until you orgasm, no extra help, but it hardly seems fair with you never having had one…."
I gasped as he traced the vibrator back down my stomach reaching my mound. His other hand lightly tweaked my nipples as he dropped the vibrator to my clit. The sensation was so intense that I hardly heard him say, "And time."
My eyes closed of their own volition and it felt like my whole body was vibrating. The little egg had all of my attention focused on that pleasure spot, while my pussy clenched fruitlessly, begging for something to fill it. Gordon's fingers plucked my nipples, ramping up the sensation, and then the egg started vibrating harder. I gasped out loud, and then groaned as I tried to arch. It was all happening so fast I forgot I wasn't supposed to want this.
When he pinched my nipple just a bit harder, I gasped out, "Please!"
He pushed the egg against my clit harder, and I screamed, as I soared out of my body. Waves of pleasured wracked me for a few seconds before I drifted back.
"Under 3 minutes, that's a time on par with some of well-trained whores… you'll be a natural… I only wish I could have fucked you… No matter, maybe a club will buy you. I would give my whole pay check for a chance to pop your cherry..."
I gasped at that- a club could buy me?
"Warden Merriam," Mr. Gordon said into a speaker I hadn't noticed on the wall. "I'll pay whatever you want for her. Name your price."
I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you'll come back to read more! If you liked it, subscribe to get story updates! And please review!