But maybe he was right. Previous ownership had been about her heart and spirit. Jack was talking about being sexually owned. Her body belonged to him. Her obedience was a given. All of this had been talked about in their emails, but it was real now. Not theory. Not fantasy. A scary, awesome, titillating thought, but one that set her crotch ablaze.
By Jack’s definition, no man had ever owned her. And he was right. She’d always held back. There was always something in reserve she never freely gave. She’d thought of herself as being owned, but not beyond a dungeon scene, a trip to the cross, or over a spanking bench. During the auction, her obedience had been a temporary gift. A titillating adventure. An evening’s entertainment. But once she emerged from the subspace high a day or two later
