“…belong…to you?” she asked.
“Well, you could say you’re within my body now,” I pointed out. “If someone doesn’t own what’s inside their own body, what do they own?”
“N-no!” she said. “I won’t be your slave! I thought you were my friend!”
I sighed. “I’m not asking you to be my slave,” I said. “I’m telling you that you are my toy. Oh well, I’ll try again later.” I pushed her head back down and in, stifling her protests, and dozed off.
When I woke up the next morning, I tugged her head out again and kissed her awake. “Well?”
“But I don’t—” she began, then said, “Wait!” when I put my hand back on her head to push her back down.
“Last chance,” I said. “If you say no, I’ll have to tuck you back down ’til people have stopped looking for you. Might be a year or two.”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I thought we were friends.”
“I’m sorry, but I just like having you in there,” I said. “But if I’m going to keep you there, you have to be mine or it doesn’t work. So what’s it going to be?”