Page 50 of Under His Control

Collars are a mark of ownership too. By wearing this, it means I’m currently owned by a man. I make a face.

“How many steps backward for feminism is this?”

I remove the collar and set it on the counter beside my clothes, then I step into the shower. Just as I turn on the spray, I’m startled when the bathroom door swings open and Jacob enters.

“What the hell!” I cross my arms over my breasts then realize my pussy is exposed. I slip one hand lower to hide my mound and gape at Jacob through the shower’s glass door. “Why are you in here?”

He steps closer and folds his arms, leaning his shoulder against the wall between the towel rack and the shower door.

“Private showers are a luxury you can’t afford.”

“You’re joking.”

It’s a really bad joke too.

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Nope. This is serious business.”

There’s unhinged and then there’s Jacob’s thirst for humiliating me a level or two above it.

I want to ask if he’ll also come in to watch me while I’m on the toilet. I hold it back because I don’t dare add to the many insane ideas rolling around in his head.

The chunky, cursive words on a t-shirt that I owned once float through my mind:

THERE’S ALWAYS A LITTLE CRAZY IN THE CUTE ONES AND I’M THE CUTEST!

We stare at each other, the shower water splashing the floor filling the silence. The complaints bubbling up inside me fizzle out when I remember his warning.

Protesting is disobedience.

Reluctantly, I face forward, hyperaware of his stare as I step under the spray of water.

I’ve been stuck on morning showers since I got here and I was happy to restore my routine tonight. I’ll have to take them before he gets home from work, though I suspect he’ll quickly put a stop to my workaround.

Creeping condensation on the glass door gives me an idea. I increase the water’s temperature, glancing over my shoulder in satisfaction as his view becomes obscured. To my dismay, he tugs open the shower door and all the steam rapidly dissipates.

I glare at him. He smirks at me. My glare deepens into a scowl.

“Water might get out if the door is open. It’ll ruin the floor.”

“A price worth paying for the fantastic view.”

Oh my god!

He’s not even trying to pretend that this is only about punishment!

Jacob has that gleam in his eyes again. The one I saw after I took off my clothes for the supposed “intake process” and after he put the collar on me.

Would you let Daddy slide his cock inside you?

He made it seem like he was taunting me. I think it was sort of an admission too. I’m sexually inexperienced, not totally clueless on the subject.

Despite his dismissive denials that “it’s just biology,” I believe Jacob actually wants to fuck me.

I look away from him again as warmth fills my face and confusing feelings swirl in my mind. After years of being on Jacob’s shit list, I like being desirable to him. I’m ashamed for liking it too.

Girls with daddy issues typically seek love and affection from older men unrelated to them. My issues must be planet-sized to enjoy sexual attention from a man who was once like a father to me.