I mean, the whole thing seems so bad right now.

I was out with my coworker, we were in a no name Mexican restaurant in a booth. These two girls walked by and I commented that they looked good. He made the comment that they looked like wild pussy. I asked him what the hell was wild pussy. He said it was pussy that wasn't owned.

The conversation didn't stop there, he pointed out several tables, owned, wild, owned, owned, wild. The owned pussies were women with rings on their fingers, the wild pussies didn't wear a ring. I didn't have a ring so I told him that in his mind I was wild pussy. He answered, your problem is you don't know that you are a pussy, you think you have a cock and balls.

He went on to tell me that pussies get fucked and when was the last time my pussy had been fucked. He told me to go into the restroom and have a good look and come out and confirm to him that I had a pussy, to admit to him that I did not have a cock and balls. But first to tell him what color panties I had on. I told him to fuck off. He leaned over the table and told me that I thought I had a cock and balls and I was scared to prove to him that I didn't, that all I had was a pussy between my legs. He demanded to see.

When you are wet like that you don't thing straight, I was so damned wet right then, I went with him to the restroom, pulled my pants down and let him look. He said, fine. When we got back to the table he took out a dollar and put it on the table and said that was consideration, he was buying my pussy. No consideration, no contract.

I let the dollar sit there and asked what he meant by he was buying my pussy. He said he was going to own it, if he wanted to he was going to display it like a work of art. Or he was going to use it like a lawnmower, or he was going to ride it like his motorcycle. He owned the pussy, he decides what he wants to do with it. It was just the way it was, he had the dollar, he had the cock and balls and he was buying my pussy. He looked at me and he said in measured words, I own this pussy, this is my pussy. He made me put the dollar in my purse.

On the way out of the restaurant he pointed to women and girls and told me that he didn't own any of those pussies, but he owned my pussy now. He took me to a church, he told me that we were going to go in there and I was going to tell God that I had sold my pussy so He could mark His registry, Pussy Owned. I was not loud, I could barely get my voice to make a sound, he had me stand there in front of the Cross and tell Jesus that he now owned my pussy, he made me use the word pussy in church.

He called in to the office and told his secretary that he was taking the rest of the afternoon off and to tell my supervisor that I wasn't coming back to work either. He took me to his house and told me it was time to give it up. It was all his and for me to give it up. He wasn't gentle at all, I was expecting him to be gentle, but he wasn't gentle at all, he just got his business done, sealing the purchase. He got off me and told me now your fucked, that's my pussy, those are my tits, that's my ass.

We got married several months later, it was a formality for my family. That is not the day I got MARRIED to him, that's the day that the register in town was updated. The day I recognize is the day he took me into the church and had me tell Jesus that I was no longer available. I don't ever use the word pussy, except with him. And he expects me to use it with him, when I refer to myself. I wear my rings and when I am in public, and men are walking by, I know that they are checking me out, is she owned or she wild? I'm owned and I have the rings to prove it.

Tenth anniversary,