Page 57 of Prized Possession

She pauses for a moment, deliberating my words. She crosses her arms defiantly, and I try to ignore the way it pushes her tits up in the most fucking magnificent way.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, she looks at me in challenge. “How would you know if I came without your permission?”

My devilish smirk grows, and her eyes widen as she takes in my predatory gaze. “You are my slut, I will know.”

“I-I dont… You won’t—” Before she can even fumble a full sentence together, I cut her off.

“You’re my dirty slut, but you’re also a good girl. I have a feeling it won’t take long for you to beg me. You will go to bed tonight dreaming it was my fingers that got you off instead of your own.

“Soon my fingers won’t be enough, and you’ll start to fantasise about my cock. It won’t be long until you’re spilling all your secrets, begging me to make you my dirty whore in all the ways you crave.”

Her mouth flops open, and she looks like she’s about to argue. I’m keen to hear whatever retort she comes up with, but I want to leave her thinking of my dirty words.

I lean over until my lips are almost touching her ear, my breath tickling her cheek. “Goodnight, Mio. I’m going to have some very nice dreams about your sweet pussy. Sleep well.”

After Marcus gave me the most mind-blowing orgasm, without ever really touching me, I wasn’t sure how things would be between us. Naturally, I spent the whole night tossing and turning, wanting nothing more than to reach down, to alleviate the throbbing ache between my thighs, but all I could think about were his instructions.

Logically, I knew there was no way he’d know if I decided to touch myself—at least, I don’t think he would—yet something still held me back. The experience with him was so much more than just having the most intense orgasm of my entire life.

For the first time in a very long time, I actually felt in control of myself. I’ve always felt betrayed by my body, hating the way it shows how I feel, even when I don’t want it to.

I know all teenagers probably dealt with that at some point, particularly teenage boys getting a hard-on at the most inconvenient of times. But for me, it’s not about the way my cheeks flush when I’m trying to pretend I’m not thinking about Marcus. Those slight giveaways, I could handle.

My issue is with the way my body reacts even when my mind is telling it to behave another way. The way my nipples peak as though I’m interested, even though I’m completely terrified. Or the way my pussy gets wet when my clit receives any attention, even if my brain is screaming that I’m not actually enjoying it.

I’ve always hated that lack of control, knowing I might come, even when I really fucking don’t want to.

What Marcus gave me back was so much more than just control. He showed me that my body is mine, and if I don’t want something to happen, no matter how hard or painful it may be, I can stop it.

I wanted nothing more than to give in to him after the first time he brought me to the edge. I wanted to lose myself in his touch. I wanted to experience the pleasure he was capable of giving me, but he never lost sight of what he was trying to teach me, and I’m so grateful for that.

Even when I was begging and pleading with him, offering him anything and everything he might want, he never relented. He showed me that even though he was the one who controlled my pleasure, and ultimately gave me permission to find my release, I was the one with the real control.

I could have orgasmed after the first time he edged me, but by the time he told me I could come, I was so in control that I could have held off had I wanted to—though I very much fucking didn’t want to.

Since he first proposed the idea of me submitting to him, to learn how to control my own body, I thought it was all bullshit. How can you give up control to gain control? But he was right, and although I now wake up each morning very fucking sexually frustrated, I’m also a hell of a lot more empowered than ever before.

I don’t know what I expected to happen after that night, how I thought things might have changed between us, but I definitely wasn’t expecting for nothing to be different.

Every morning, I’d get up and drag my arse into the kitchen for my morning coffee, only to find Marcus already there, my drink waiting for me. We exchange the same pleasantries… Did you sleep well? What are your plans for the day? It’s nice weather today, isn’t it…

Not that I’m complaining, as I like talking to Marcus while we move around the kitchen, both getting ready for the day ahead. At times, we’d venture into slightly more personal questions, getting to know a little about each other as we ate.

But it was like we’d both circle the elephant in the room, not once discussing what happened between us.

We would then just go about our day. Marcus would leave for whatever meeting or job he has that day, and I’d smile and wave him off, before trying to decide what to do with myself.

I met my new security guard, Kim, and it took me a couple of days to get to know her, but I quickly learnt why Miles thought she’d be the best fit for me.

She’s such a quiet, unassuming person, but that never stops her from voicing her opinion if I want to do something she thinks is unsafe.

There were a lot of butting heads at first, but we quickly got to know each other, and now I actually don’t mind her being around all the time.

She’s easy to talk to, and despite my father drilling it into me from an early age that our staff are not our friends, I’m starting to consider Kim as one.

Once we created boundaries, and she explained to me what she needs to do to keep me safe, we started to work together. I told her all about my desire to learn more about baking, and she did some research to find a class that I could attend.

She needed to make sure the building was secure, and that the instructors passed all her security checks, but once she gave her approval, I signed up without hesitation.

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