Page 38 of Owned


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Leaning forward over the table, now holding only our final drinks, I lightly grip both of her knees. “This is not a tomorrow situation. Sharing you is a gift; one I would never dole out lightly. You’ll learn that the decisions I make for you are to make you the best submissive you can be,” I whisper.

For me.

The best submissive she can be for me.

“And if I decide this isn’t for me?” she asks, and I admire her level-headedness with all the information that has just been dumped on her.

“You walk away,” I lie. I’ve had her and tasted a sample of her sweet submission. Both of them are totally fucking addicting. The moment she fully agrees to give herself to me, I intend to take it all and never give it back.

“Then I agree.” A broad smile spreads across her face. “So, what do I call you now? Sir? Master? The Great Almighty Oz?”

Taking this moment to educate her, I explain, “Sir and Master are honorifics. Both are a distinction I’ll earn from you.”

“So, not The Great Almighty Oz?” She smirks with a chuckle.

“Your bratty-ness is going to get you in a lot of trouble, darling.”

And I am so looking forward to it.

Sliding my hands along her legs, I sit back in my chair, fully ready to give her a small test. My eyes rake over her legs to the high hemline of her dress. “Did you do as you were told?”

“The panties,” she murmurs so softly it’s as though she only mouths the words.

“Are you wearing them?”

She shakes her head.

Holding back my pleasure at following my instruction, I demand, “Use your words.”

“No. I’m not wearing them.”

“Prove it,” I push her. “Show me.”

She stares at me for a moment, and her throat bobs when she swallows hard. Her eyes rapidly dart around the sparingly filled patio, and she uncrosses her thighs before timidly spreading her knees to grant me the view I’m asking for.

Her eyes meet mine for approval, but I don’t give it to her. “More.”

Layla sucks in a deep breath, causing her tits to jiggle as she shakily expels it while shimmying her skirt higher up her thighs. She widens her knees an inch more, and I can see enough to know she’s bare.

But I want to know how far she’ll go.

I need to know.

“Higher,” I quietly command. “I want to see the smooth, plump lips that I’ve been fantasizing about running my tongue over.”

Her breath hitches, and she nervously chews at her lower lip, quietly exclaiming, “Someone will see.”

The arm of the wicker chair conceals her from the patrons to her right. There is a short wall to her left, and no one is sitting at the tables behind me. The chances of someone garnering a view are minuscule but growing with every minute she hesitates.

“Then you better hurry before I have to end some poor man for lusting over what’s mine.”

She nervously looks around and quickly shimmies the skirt up the remainder of her thighs until the fabric is bunched on her hip, and she’s on full display for me. With her legs wide, I marvel at her glistening cunt. She’s so fucking wet, and I haven’t even laid a hand on her.

“Tell me. Is it the thrill of being caught or following my commands that have you dripping on the cushion beneath you?”

“Both,” she sheepishly responds as the pink in her cheeks darkens. Her eyes still fleeting around the patio, she glares at me for a moment. “Satisfied?”

“I’d be more satisfied if I could taste you.” My gaze wanders to the small, damp spot beneath her.

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