On Being Owned

By T. H. Barker

Don came home unexpectedly to an unpleasant surprise. But while the guy he found in bed with his wife had no interest in taking over her support, he WAS interested in return visits, and he'd made his point with her; she would go looking for the satisfaction that Don wasn't providing her. He convinced Don that, while things would never be the same, Don stood to gain from the situation, as since his wife had cheated, the limitations they'd set upon themselves during the development of their relationship were out the window. The rules could be rewritten, and he would help write and enforce them while supporting Don. But there would need to be some adjustments made...

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. H. Barker
• Release date: Mar 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005291464

T. H. Barker

T. H. Barker has been publishing erotica on the web since 2003 under the pseudonym Thinking Horndog and has a following on several sites of readers delighted and entertained by the quality of his works. "I tend not to write pure stroke, but rather put my characters -- who are NOT perfect people or Barbie dolls -- in real situations and wrap a real story around the sex scenes. I'm known for my humor, which is a little twisted..."

Book preview

On Being Owned

T. H. Barker

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2022 T. H. Barker

License notes for the Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this ebook with others, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient or recommend that they go to Smashwords.com and purchase their own copy. If you are reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please go to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the efforts of the author.

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Author's Foreword

This book contains adult content – and it crosses various boundaries even for that. If you are too young to be reading depictions of sexual activity or have limited tolerance for such content, including activities that are, well, not ‘vanilla,’ let us say, perhaps you should look elsewhere. On the other hand, if you consider yourself to be open-minded, well, let’s see... There is nothing here that hasn’t been done before, after all...

As I have indicated before, my characters are what they are, and they speak for themselves, not for me. Don't assume that because one of them presents an attitude that you find offensive, or whatever, that I'm providing you with MY opinions – look around and you'll see another character with a differing viewpoint.

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Every character who engages in sexual activity in this tale is eighteen or older.

Enjoy!

T. H. B.

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Table of Contents

Author's Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

About The Author

Other Books by T. H. Barker

Chapter 1

It was Friday, and things were quiet at the office, so I figured I'd treat myself and Liz – get home early and maybe make plans to go out to dinner. Our daughter Crystal was at some afternoon summer camp thing on Fridays – maybe Liz and I could try to get some quality time in. I pulled into the driveway, and the pool maintenance guy's truck was there. That was fine; at least we were getting our money's worth. I let myself into the house and the TV was on, but Liz wasn't in front of it. She wasn't in the kitchen, either. I moved on toward the bedrooms and bath, hoping to surprise her.

Once in the hall, the TV sounds were muted somewhat, and I became aware of other sounds – rhythmic ones, mixed with quiet exclamations. I moved forward cautiously, and realized the sounds seemed to be coming from the master suite. The closer I got, the more familiar they sounded. The quiet exclamations were Liz's voice, and the pattern was familiar, although I hadn't heard it in a while. They were mixed with male grunts and the slap of flesh on flesh – not a surprise, given the sounds Liz was making. Those sounds were her signature noises – the ones she made during good sex.

I slid forward carefully, avoiding creaky floorboards as best I could. The bedroom door was open partway. I could see the action area, at least. Liz was on her back, on our bed, with her legs up. I could see her from probably just below her breasts down. Between her legs, I beheld the lower torso of a black male, industriously driving his cock deep into Liz's pussy, grunting, his pubic mound making those wet smacks against Liz's. I watched Liz's feet, mesmerized. The left one would arch, the toes splaying, then it would point; the right stayed pointed, her toes curled. Her gasps and moans were getting more strident; I recognized an approach to orgasm.

I stood there, frozen, a cocktail of emotions swirling in me, waiting for one in particular to bubble to the top and release me to take action. Hurt, anger, resentment – they were all there, but they weren't alone. There was resignation, and an acknowledgement that maybe she had some justification. I needed to know more, anyway. Who was driving here? Was it seduction? By whom? Certainly, Liz would be… well, vulnerable.

I'm not gifted, sexually. I run to the low end of normal, I guess, but with more girth. I'm a little heavy, too; nothing horrible, but I'm thick. When we were going together and when we were first married, it wasn't a problem, but when Liz got pregnant with Crystal, she sized up some – and like a lot of women, she didn't shrink back all the way. I did too, but not as much. Sex went from being satisfying for both of us almost all the time to difficult. It got to be hard for her to hold a position where I could stay plugged in. As it got more difficult for her, the urgency went up for me and I got quicker on the draw. We reached the point where I got off MOST of the time, but Liz got off once in a while, at best. Sex slipped from being a fun thing to do almost daily to a chore that aggravated her because she wasn't getting anything from it, so the incidence dropped to monthly, or less. We tried things: mutual masturbation, dildoes, vibrators… I ate a lot of pussy, but Liz liked penetration – and hard things and rubber things didn't do it for her.

Ogod! Ogod! I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Liz's hands appeared, becoming claws, digging into the muscular butt of the black. She started hunching, her legs kicking, her toes pointed and clenched. Yeah, she was getting a big one. This was the first time I'd ever seen her in action as an outside observer. I was surprised how graceful she was.

Her lover chuckled, panting. You likin' that nigger dick?

Uh… huh… Liz's voice was congested; I knew she was in mid-climax, her pussy rippling, trying to milk him for seed. That made me wonder… Released from my frozen state, I slid further forward. He was continuing to pump, but had slowed down. I concentrated on the juncture, and relief flooded over me. Yes! There was a rubber there!

Meanwhile, Liz's lover continued to press, Tell me about it.

Huh? Liz wasn't going to be all there at that point. Her mind was probably in the ozone layer.

Tell me you like my nigger dick!

I like it! Her voice said she was sliding into post-orgasmic exhaustion.

What do you like?

She panted a couple of times, and I knew she was putting it back together.

N-nigger dick!

WHOSE nigger dick?

Your nigger dick!

You want some more?

Yes!

Good! I ain't done yet! Work that fat pussy! Give me a ride!

He put things back in gear at that point.

I gave them a few seconds, then slid forward some more, until I could see everything. The doorway was at the end of a wall, more or less in the corner of the room, and the bed extended from the wall on my right out into the room such that I had a straight-on side view of the foot. As I entered the room, the view opened up on my right, allowing me to take in everything from a more or less forty-five-degree angle. If Liz looked to her left, she would see me immediately, but she was busy.

The guy was Uriah, the pool guy; no surprise, I guess. After all, it was his truck in the driveway. He was up on his elbows, his fingers working Liz's nipples while he pumped his cock into her, his eyes locked on hers.

Fuck me! he rasped. Work that pussy! Make it good, so I'll think about fucking it again!

Liz said nothing, but her gaze was worshipful, and I could tell she was working to create contractions by the way her pelvis moved and her belly clenched.

Yeah, get it! Show me how bad you want it! Uriah taunted.

I'd stopped again. Suddenly, I realized that I wasn't in a rush to announce myself. Those emotions were still there, but there were… other things.

Some impulse prompted me to get out my phone. I started the camera and made a good thirty-second video, shifting some toward the foot of the bed to focus on the juncture of Uriah's black cock and heavy balls as they slammed into Liz's puffy, pink pussy. She was aroused, all right. She was wet and her pussy had that well-used look, the lips pink and juicy-looking as they hugged the shaft of Uriah's cock. I swept back around so I could capture her face and his, thinking, 'She's still a hot piece…' I think it was at that point that I recognized the other emotions: pride, shame, and arousal.

Yeah, I was proud of her. She was a hot piece, in spite of the weight gain – the belly roll that hadn't gone away and the widening and thickening of her ass, not to mention a certain upsizing of her breasts that had subsided some, leaving them less pert and more motherly. It had made things difficult for us, but to be fair, I'd put on a few pounds, too, which hadn't helped. Uriah wasn't carrying a lot of extra weight and he had more cock to work with, so he was having no problem at all going deep.

I was ashamed, at myself and for her. I couldn't give her what she needed, which no doubt led directly to this. Yes, the situation had always been there, and there was nothing, really, I could do about it. Yes, it was partly her fault – but I'd watched her suffer through several fad diets, and the motherhood padding had refused to slough off her. Stopping eating wasn't really an option for either of us. A couple of inches, though – one, even, maybe – would have made all the difference, but I came up short.

The thing that brought me recognition of these other feelings, though, was arousal. I discovered that I was rubbing my crotch, watching this black guy rut in my wife! It was hot! He was bringing smoke, Liz was giving it up, and the taunts added something.

You know this ain't it, right? Uriah puffed. I'm gonna be by to tap this shit regular. Your old man is gonna have to deal with sloppy seconds! You're gonna be full service, too! You're gonna be my bitch! How does that sound?

Liz didn't say anything. I could tell she was getting close to a climax, and he probably could, too. He went about another five strokes, then stopped. I said, how does that sound?

Liz was already whining; he was robbing her of that last bit of sensation she needed to climax. Uriah got in her face, rasping, Well?

Good! Liz shrieked. Good! God! Fuck me, please!

Uriah put it back in gear, rumbling, Pay attention when I'm talking to you! It ain't all about you! In fact, it's all about ME! You give me what I want! That's how you get yours!

Yes! Yes! Liz nodded like a bobblehead doll!

Yes, what?

I watched her work on that. Using brain power was putting off her climax.

Yes… Uriah? she ventured.

If you're good, you can call me Daddy.

Yes, Daddy! I'll be good!

Damn right, you will – or I will BEAT YOUR ASS!

Yes, Daddy! I'll be good!

I wondered if it was the sex, or something else. We'd never gone in this direction. Liz and I were equals, theoretically – but in practice, I might even be a bit on the low end, particularly due to sex. Here Liz was, acting positively slavish. It was a side of her I'd never seen before.

Tell me what you want, Uriah murmured, pausing a stroke.

Fuck me, Daddy! Please! Liz gibbered.

Well, since you said please, Uriah took off again.

Liz was effusive. Thank you, Daddy! I love it when you fuck me! You're so good, she cooed.

Work that pussy! Make Daddy happy! Uriah remonstrated.

Yes, Daddy! Fuck me, Daddy! Anything you want!

You remember that! Uriah admonished. Anything I want – that's what you give me!

Yes, Daddy! Anything!

I knew she'd dug a hole for herself there. It was clear on the face of it.

Uriah seemed satisfied, though. He resumed steadily throwing a stroke into her. I watched her cycle up to a peak; she got off big, like something that MAYBE she'd managed a couple of times while we were going together – and maybe not. On one level, it bothered me; it was clear that I was inadequate, not that it was news. On another, I was pleased. My wife was having hot sex. She was a hot property, even after having had our child. That part of me could put away the issue that the guy between her legs wasn't me. In fact, that part got a kick out of Uriah's color. I was milking my cock through my pants, wishing I could pull it out and jack it. I knew better, though. At some point, they were going to stop and/or discover me, and I would be giving away a strategic advantage if I was openly playing with myself. That was the same chunk of me that insisted that I needed video of Liz's infidelity. That guy was covering my ass, and commiserating with the one whining like a whipped puppy over the betrayal while agreeing with the one who insisted that it was only to be expected, given the fact that I was unable to step up. That guy also operated totally separately from the perv who wanted to jerk off at the live sex show while assuring him that he'd have the video to jerk off to later. In short, I was a mess, but it was semi-integrated.

Uriah rode Liz through another one of her climaxes, then settled back while she was cooling down, saying, You're gonna have to blow me. It's good pussy, but I can't get off wearing a fucking rubber, and your old man…

…Is home early.

I started, but then I realized that the voice that made the utterance was mine. One of me had stepped up.

Liz let out a shriek and tried to hide under Uriah – which wasn't going to happen, since there was more to her than there was to him. Uriah, on the other hand, raised himself to the vertical, but remained calm, gazing at me over his shoulder.

Several parts of me fused together, one way or another, so it was a 'me' I had control of who asked, So how long has this been going on?

I wasn't…! I didn't…! He…! Liz gibbered.

How long have we been fuckin'? Uriah asked, calmly. This be the first time. I've been softening her up for a couple of weeks, but this is the first time I got in. I'd moved around closer to the bed and more toward the head, which allowed him to regard me without having to crane his neck. I see you took some video, he added, still perfectly calm, kneeling there with his cock buried in my wife's cunt. How long you been there?

Long enough to know it wasn't rape. Liz cringed and peered at me over a pillow that she was using to mask her upper body.

What are you gonna do with it? he asked.

You know, I DON'T know! I replied honestly. I didn't.

Uriah turned to Liz, You're fucked. If he whips the video out in divorce court, you won't get shit. Liz burst into tears.

He turned back to me. Let me know. If you put her on the street, I might have to see about making the whole thing worthwhile for her.

That surprised me somewhat. Really?

He shrugged. It's good pussy. She'll have to go on birth control, though – I hate fuckin' rubbers. If I go bareback, she'll end up throwin' a bunch of nappy-headed half-breed kids.

By then, Liz had started bawling. Oddly, we ignored her, more or less. You seem pretty calm.

He shrugged. I don't see a gun.

I shrugged. What would I do with a gun? Shoot you? Shoot her? Shoot myself? Any two, or all of the above? Would that roll back time?

That's smart. You're pretty calm, too, seems like.

I'm a mess, I replied, but the surface layer seems to be using logic.

I seduced her, he declared. It took a couple of weeks, bits and pieces.

So, it's not her fault?

Well… He grinned a little. She was lookin' for something – and I had it.

One of the chunks of me that was hanging out under the surface popped up and shot, '…And I know why…' through my brain. There seemed to be plenty of blame to go around.

He must've seen something on my face. Hard dick was only a piece of it. A big piece, but not the whole enchilada.

No? What else, then?

No. He reached out and slapped Liz, fairly gently. She gave out a gasp and lay there, gazing up at him, bug-eyed, holding a hand to her cheek. Keep the noise down. Men are talking. Turning to me, he said, That.

I fail to see… But the light was already coming on.

You coddle her, don't you? You let her have her way, get all democratic about shit.

Yeah.

So, is it all really democratic? All equal?

A chunk of me that had been lying there, dormant, lurched up with the answer. No.

Who's on top?

The look on his face said he expected me to lie, but I didn't. She is.

He nodded, and I realized that I'd garnered a little respect. Women don't do democracy. They've been told they should have it and they think they want it, but it goes against their programming – and ours. Somebody needs to be in charge. It's supposed to be us, but we've been told the same shit, and we – especially you guys, who have been taking some shit for a while… I realized that he meant white guys. …try to make it work. But it creates a power vacuum, so they try to fill it. Problem is, they're not good at it. They don't REALLY want the job, so if somebody with their shit together comes along and takes the handoff… he shrugged. She loves you, but she doesn't respect you, he summarized. He left me to fill in the pieces.

HIM, she respected. HE could fulfill her physical needs. That left ME in a fucked-up position.

He nodded. You're thinkin, 'Maybe I ought to shitcan her.' But you've got an investment in her, don't ya? Not to mention the kid. He cocked his head. She's what, ten? Why only the one?

Pregnancy… I began.

…Put a fine layer of motherhood fat on her big ass, didn't it? he finished, grinning. Liz made to squawk, but he just held up a finger. How did that bust things?

The air all leaked out of me, it seemed like. I'm… short.

Uriah nodded, musing. I knew I was bigger, but I didn't realize I was playing with dynamite instead of a firecracker. There's a difference between just being a little bit bigger and being able to get the job done when the competition can't.

I looked at his cock, which had shrunk some, and merely had its condom-covered tip nosing Liz's still-gaping vaginal opening. I've been pushing shit to lock it down, and maybe I've overdone it.

I got it. The shit-talking he'd done while they were fucking was to make sure he had a door open for repeats. But he'd been busy making it obvious that he was qualified, and I wasn't. He knelt there, ruminating, then backed up and stood. Pointing at Liz, he said, Stay here and behave yourself. Your old man and I need to talk in private. He stepped off, waving at me – and I fell in line, realizing that he was in charge of ME, too, at that point.

We settled in the kitchen, him leaning against the counter, still naked, and me straddling a kitchen chair. His opener shocked the shit out of me!

You got a pussy?

WH-WHAT?

You ain't getting any. What are you doin' for fun? Jerkin' it?

I rubbed my face. Mostly. We take a run at it every once in a while. I get a suck, periodically.

From her, or from someone else?

Her.

He grunted. So, how bad is it?

Not terrible, just not enough.

Worked once, obviously.

Yeah.

Show me.

I stood there, thinking about it. His gaze challenged me. Was I gonna bluster and act chickenshit, or was I gonna show him what he already knew? I stood, undid my slacks and let them drop to the floor, then tugged down my underwear.

I wasn't erect, of course. His gaze got predatory, but his comment was a mild, It ain't up.

No reason for it to be.

I get that, but you never know. Sometimes, it happens, anyway. He waved. See if you can bring it up.

Dunno if I can. The situation is kind of fucked-up. I closed my eyes, tried to clear my mind, and started manipulating my foreskin.

You haven't had any in a while, he murmured, It'll probably decide to ignore shit.

He was right; I began to firm up. I gave a little sigh of relief. A comparison of erections was bad enough; if I couldn't even get there…

I didn't hear him coming, but suddenly, there was a hand on my ass, rubbing. I jumped.

Relax, he muttered. Sometimes, a little outside help adds to things. A chunk of me started waving its arms and howling, but that piece wasn't a majority stakeholder in the mess holding me together. I let the hand wander over my ass – and I firmed up.

Yeah, you're gettin' there, he approved. I figured you would. A hand slid over my belly. You have this when you two got married?

Part of it, I admitted. I've probably added ten pounds.

An' she's added thirty, I bet.

Probably.

If she worked hard at it, some would come off, but… I'd opened my eyes by that time. He was eyeing my cock. He was half-hard, which was all it took to have a good two inches on me. Ever stick that in her ass?

No.

He stopped touching me and stepped back. You'd probably get in. It might not get in the way of her pussy, doggie, I bet. You two don't mesh with her on her back, but her ass would be stickin' out.

She wouldn't be interested. We don't do doggie. Somebody told her it wasn't romantic.

He wrinkled his nose at that, grinning. We can change her mind about that.

We?

Uriah nodded. We. Look, man, there has to be a change in the org chart. I can walk, but it won't help you. The barn door is open, she's out in the south pasture, and a stallion has already been in there. If I walk, she'll just find another stud to breed her, and he'll likely also be black. Who knows whether he'll have any fuckin' manners?

Yeah, well…

Things aren't going back the way they were, man. Besides, you weren't in charge before, so you wouldn't be again, in the first place. I can't put you there and walk. I wouldn't, anyway, but I can't, in the first place – you need training. The best you can hope for is middle management.

Middle management?

You can sit between me and her… if I back you.

She's in trouble, I pointed out.

That won't last. You'd have to put your foot on her neck, HARD, and neither of you is used to the idea. She'll buck and roar and shit will crash and burn. Me, I'm already in the position, so she doesn't have the habits she has with you. He eyed me. I CAN walk… and you can negotiate with my replacement. His grin had fangs.

So, what are you proposing? I asked.

I take the top spot. I back you up and we re-orient her so she gets used to answering to authority. I can't be around all the time, so you'll have to run things day-to-day, but you'll need backup. After I've busted her ass a few times, things will settle out some.

I was non-plussed! You make it sound like…

Like what?

Like you're moving in or something!

He cocked his head, thinking about it. That's an option, I guess.

Not a long-term one!

No, it is… if I wanted to commit to it. It's a little early, though. We're gonna want to see how things shake out.

You're insane!

He shrugged. I can let things crash and burn. I can take your old lady away from you, too – and whether it's temporary or permanent for me, it's gonna probably be permanent for you. Shit is busted. She's addicted to big black dicks. That's not going away. You need to deal with it. What I'm putting out here is the easy option. Hard is out there.

Hearing this made me sick to my stomach, because I KNEW it was true! But we're MARRIED! I bleated.

So? I don't want to MARRY her – I want to OWN her! Uriah shot back.

What does that mean for me?

He frowned. We're gonna have to work on that. Simplest is… Nah. You won't want to hear that.

I sighed. I probably ought to, if it's a solution. He didn't seem to want me to GO anywhere. I had no idea what could be on his mind, frankly.

He shrugged. Awright, since you asked. Simplest solution is I own YOU, too!

WH-WHAAT? Images I didn't want to see flew through my head. I DIDN'T see them, but I knew what they were.

He grinned, but it was apologetic. You wouldn't be a man if that didn't set you off. It's why I asked you if you had a pussy. If you'd taken a dick and enjoyed it, it would have been something you could get out of the deal.

I haven't! I insisted.

Okay. He waved it off. Some guys enjoy it.

I knew that. I'd watched my share of porn, including some gay stuff. But I'd never done anything like that. Well, I don't.

He cocked his head, eyeing me. From what you're telling me, you don't know that.

What does that mean? There were chunks of me surfacing in the stew, chunks I'd never seen before. They seemed to have a nodding acquaintance with the parts that KNEW I was inadequate.

It means you haven't tried it, so you don't know.

I don't want to; I'm not gay.

No, but I don't think you're terribly, terribly straight, either. You let me rub your ass while you got that thing going.

I floundered around, searching for an explanation. You sneaked up on me!

Yeah, you jumped a foot, but you settled down.

You wanted it…

…And you let me do it. Why was that?

I don't know. But a chunk of me seemed to.

Because I'm in charge. I'm the boss man.

How do you figure?

It's been out there, man. A big chunk of it is instinct. It's the difference between this… He reached out and grasped my half-hard cock, …and THIS! He waggled his, which was also half-hard, but twice the size.

I stood there, frozen, gazing bug-eyed at his hand as it worked my cock. It didn't shrink, either – it got hard! A chunk of me seemed to be pleased. Other chunks hung back, waiting to see what would happen next. He worked me with his left hand, relatively clumsily, but it was working. His own cock grew in his right. I stole glances at it, sidelong, while focused on what he was doing to me.

There are other flavors besides gay and straight, he murmured, They're the ends of a spectrum. Lots of guys try out gay while they're experimenting with sex. I figure you didn't out of fear of finding out the results. Here… He took my hand and put it on his cock. I let him. I couldn't explain why, but it seemed to be the fact that he was running things. Feel it. You know what yours feels like. This is the competition. Ever been to the peeps?

No.

He nodded. If you had, we'd probably be past this. There is gay and straight – black and white – and a whole spectrum of greys that are bisexual. There is also just plain desperate. A lot of that group go to the peeps. They aren't getting any, like you aren't, and they want something better than their hand, and someone else to be handling it. It's social, and it's intimacy. When you go to the peeps, you learn things about yourself… how you measure up.

I was jacking him, and watching myself do it. It was long, thick, heavy, firm… It was dribbling a little pre-cum. A chunk of me was enjoying it, and a chunk of me was enjoying his hand on mine. I was outclassed, clearly.

So, two guys go to the peeps, desperate guys. They meet in a booth. One guy's cock is a little bigger than the other's. Who gets sucked?

I don't know, I lied. I realized that I was lying when I said it, and I knew why, instinctively.

Yes, you do. Don't bullshit me.

I licked my lips, lifting my gaze from his cock to his face. The bigger guy.

See? It's instinctive. They come out of the booth, and nobody knows – it was a private thing. But one of them bowed down to the other, because he had a bigger cock, and walked out of there with a mouthful or a pussy full of his seed. And they STILL weren't gay; just desperate enough to be bisexual. Neither of them was gonna be carrying a sign. Oh, yeah, there ARE gonna be gays in the mix, but I told you on the front end that neither of them was. But between them, they know who is the boss and who isn't, and it's all instinct, based on what they've got hanging. A switch flips in your head and you submit, because he's got it and you don't. He let go of my cock and turned to face me. Get your fill. I want it clear to you why I'm the boss.

He put his hand on my shoulder, and I went to my knees. He didn't push; he didn't have to. The imperative he described had me in its grip. I started working him with both hands