Public Displays of Possession
Pairing: Curtis Everett x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,884 Summary: Curtis isn’t shy about possessing you completely, in fact, he revels in it. Warnings: Mob AU. Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. Soft!dark mob!Curtis. Shy!scared!Reader. Manipulation & coercion. Possessiveness. Fear kink. Crying kink. Intimidation. Dub con. Thigh riding if you squint. Vaginal fingering. Manhandling. Soft degradation. Forced cockwarming. Spanking. Unprotected, rough sex. Slight anal play. Forced exhibitionism.
A/N: All of you who kept fawning and sweating over Prized Possession!Curtis are to blame for this, so thank you and you’re welcome 😌
Each day spent as Curtis’ captive made you more and more his–possessed by him completely–even in small, subtle ways.
For instance, despite having an obscenely long dining table, Curtis made you sit in the seat right next to him at the head of the table. That way, he could rest his free hand on your thigh or caress along your shoulder and arm throughout the entirety of your meal, like he was doing right now.
After weeks and weeks spent living as his pretty prize, you were no less fearful of him. If anything, you were even more afraid, constantly on edge and trying your best to navigate Curtis and his yet-to-flag interest in you.
It was like living with constant emotional whiplash, the way he could go from being soft and playful with you to terrifying and rough in his handling–and often fucking–of you.
You never knew what the day would bring, what type of mood he would be in, if he would hurt you or exhibit you in ways that made you wither and die on the inside just a little bit more with each occurrence.
So as you sat beside him for dinner, you couldn’t help but tremble as you stared down at your plate.
And even worse, you could feel Curtis’ ever watchful gaze on you the entire time.
When his fingers trailed up your free arm before his large hand gently cradled the side of your throat, and you flinched so violently that you dropped your fork–wincing at the loud clatter–his lips twitched in dark amusement.
It was like he was a shark and he could smell blood in the water, so naturally, he attacked.
Curtis shoved his seat out and patted his thigh, wordlessly directing you where he wanted you, because he didn’t even need to speak for you to hop to, even if you obviously didn’t want to.
In fact, you couldn’t hold back a wave of tears as you rose from your own seat and moved toward him. When you went to reach up to swipe away an errant tear, Curtis caught your wrist to stop you.
“Leave it. You’re so fucking pretty when you cry,” he husked, tugging you down into his lap.
He arranged you so your back was to his chest and you were straddling the thick muscle of his thigh. He even rocked it a little, humming in approval as he felt the warmth of your cunt through your barely there panties plant more fully against his leg.
You squirmed at the pressure between your legs that you knew was just a prelude to whatever sinful whims were sparking to life in Curtis’ diabolical mind. More tears brimmed and spilled over as you watched his large, calloused hands so gently tug up the delicate hem of your dress so that he could get a peek at your panties below, uncaring of the way he put you on display, yet again.
“Since you’d obviously rather play than eat,” he teased, his fingers ever so gently petting up your cunt through your underwear, “Maybe I should indulge you, huh?”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, struggling to catch your breath between Curtis’ wicked touch and the way your chest was so tight with anxiety, you could barely breathe. “I’ll eat.”
“Mmm, I’m not sure that’s what you really want, pretty prize,” Curtis smirked, nuzzling along your tear-stained cheek as he felt your panties grow damper and damper by the second. “But if you’re so eager to have something in your mouth…”
He shifted subtly, but it was enough that you could suddenly feel the hard, hot press of his erection along your lower back.
You started to shake your head in denial–in resistance–but squeaked as Curtis’ free hand caught your face by your jaw and held you still with a grip so firm, it bordered on painful and had you choking down a sob of fear.
“On your knees,” his voice was low and tinged with steel in a way that had your body following his cue before your brain caught up to the conversation.
You slid from his lap to your knees, feeling your stomach churn as Curtis pet your head and cooed at you.
“Such a good girl, doing what she’s told.”
He waited for you to turn toward him before sinking back in his seat, reaching for his fork with a satisfied curl to his lips as your shaking fingers undid his pants.
Just as your fingers touched Curtis’ bare cock, you heard footsteps approach. You instantly froze, your face flooding with such a humiliated type of heat, that you swore you were on fire from the inside out as Curtis’ head of security, Franco Jr., appeared beside him.
His gaze flickered to you and lingered, something in them sparking warm and mean, making your own eyes instantly fall to the floor as more tears spilled over and you trembled and drowned in shame at Curtis’ feet.
“Sir, sorry to interrupt, but you said to update you as soon as I heard back on the issue we discussed this morning.”
“Then update me,” Curtis replied, lifting his fork to his mouth but pausing as his glittering eyes landed on you. He held up a finger to Franco, delaying his update as Curtis spoke again, his words now directed at you. “There’s a reason why you’re on your knees, sweetheart, and it’s not to sit there looking pretty, as much as I appreciate the view.”
Your lower lip wobbled as you met Curtis’ demanding gaze. For a second, your eyes flickered to Franco–who very much seemed to be enjoying the show–before returning to Curtis. “But–”
That single word alone was enough to have Curtis’ nostrils flaring, his lips turning down into a displeased glower as he suddenly shot forward and gripped you hard by the throat.
“When I tell you to do something, you do it, you don’t whine about it, do you understand?”
You whimpered as he snarled in your face, nodding as much as you could around his grip on your neck. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be fucking sorry, be obedient. It’s why you’re here…and still alive.”
You shuddered at Curtis’ not so veiled threat, trying to ignore both watchful gazes searing into you as you retrieved Curtis’ hard cock from his pants and guided it to your mouth. You sank down on him as far as you could, suppressing a heave as Curtis’ hand found the back of your neck and pushed you down just a little bit further before keeping you there to warm his cock, just as he wanted.
And then Franco gave his report as directed, like it was the most normal thing in the world to do so as you knelt at Curtis’ feet with his cock filling your mouth and throat, tears streaming down your face.
Thankfully, white noise began to blare loudly in your mind. It drown out the two voices speaking business as usual–like you and your current predicament didn’t matter at all–as you surrendered to a soul-splintering kind of shame and tried your best to breathe through your nose until this round of humiliation was finally over.
A few days later, it was business as usual as Curtis summoned you to his home office early in the day.
As you tentatively stepped inside, you tried your best to avoid looking at the homebase of your constant shame and defilement.
The place where it was always put on display most.
The pedestal.
Curtis had made good on his word and made the pedestal a fixture in the room. He’d even hired contractors to come in and build it out and into the wall adjacent to his desk.
The pedestal itself was a perfectly polished circle of walnut wood, about four feet in diameter, set before a black wall that curved up into an arch and made the space a little alcove for your defilement.
Now, instead of an accent wall or a beautiful piece of art or furniture, the highlight of the room was you–usually on obscene display–for the man who now owned you.
“Put this on,” Curtis demanded without preamble, plucking up the sheer lace bra and panties set that was set out on one of the shelves beside the pedestal wall. “I want something pretty to look at while working.”
Today, numbness won out over shame as you did what you were told and began to strip. Once you were donning the bra and panties, Curtis handed off a pair of stilettos for you to put on next.
You tried not to grimace as you eyed the spiked heels, wondering how in the world you were supposed to wear these and remain standing for a long period of time.
As if he could read your mind, Curtis smirked at you, offering you a hand up from your spot perched on the edge of the pedestal as you finished putting on the stilettos.
“Go on, I want you right in the center and facing me,” he told you, watching as you teetered into place. “If you move or make a sound to disturb me, you’ll be punished, do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand,” you whispered, shivering slightly before you assumed the position Curtis wanted and watched him saunter back to his desk chair.
It only took a few moments for you to realize that you had been set up to fail.
That Curtis must have cranked up the air conditioning to purposefully make the room absolutely freezing, so you had literally no chance of remaining still as a statue, especially in your current getup, when you were so very cold.
You were able to resist rubbing your arms to try to warm up, but what you weren’t able to do was prevent your body from shivering the longer you stood there freezing.
In no time at all, Curtis gave a melodramatic sigh of disappointment, jaw clenching as he set down his pen and aimed his displeased gaze your way. He straightened in his seat, lounging back in his chair for a beat as he tapped his fingers atop his desk and watched you with a mean smirk curling his lips.
It had never been more apparent that you were in trouble, and there was literally nothing you could do about it.
When Curtis rose to his feet and moved toward you, you cowered, trembling out a soft, “Please, I’m sorry,” as you hugged yourself tightly and tried not to cry.
Curtis just faux pouted at you, holding out a hand until you hesitantly placed your own in his. He helped you down from the pedestal, his smirk growing more pronounced at how you struggled in the ridiculous heels, before he led you over to the leather sofa in the seating area of the room.
He dropped your hand before sitting and reclining back like a king, now aiming his smirk up at you.
You watched him nervously, your eyes big and wary as you continued to shiver.
“Come on,” he said at last, patting one of his thick thighs.
You went to perch on his thigh, but he laughed, holding up a hand to stop you. “Nice try, sweetheart.”
You only had a second to be confused before you were yelping as Curtis suddenly grabbed you. Your world went topsy turvy, until you found yourself bent over Curtis’ lap as he held you in place with one big hand gripping the nape of your neck.
Your eyes immediately filled with tears as he yanked down your panties, and you realized you were yet again in for another round of being exposed and humiliated, demeaned and “put in your place.”
You’d never been struck before–not even spanked as a child–so the first harsh slap of Curtis’ hand against your bare ass had you shrieking in pain and flailing in his lap.
“I told you if you didn’t do as you were told, if you disturbed my work, you’d be punished, so here we are,” Curtis hummed, giving your neck a painful squeeze that had you trying your best to go lax and stop struggling so much.
As he landed another agonizing spank, you gripped the bottom of his pants leg, trying to focus on remaining balanced in his lap, on breathing, on not crying so hard–anything to try to distract yourself from the onslaught of undeserving pain being rained down upon you.
Curtis was only half a dozen hard spanks in before you had dissolved into a sobbing, hysterical mess, your ass on fire as you begged him to stop and apologized over and over again for what felt like nothing more than simply existing.
“You don’t have a very high tolerance for pain, huh?” Curtis cooed at you, sounding delighted by this discovery. “No, you’re far too sweet to have been treated so roughly in the past, but you need to learn that there are consequences for defying me. This is what happens when you don’t listen, honey,” Curtis sighed, caressing over your abused flesh and grinning as you whined and tried to flinch away.
“Please,” you struggled to speak between your crying and sniffles. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’ll do better, I swear.”
You heard a soft chuckle from above you, and then Curtis’ hands started to wander. You were so relieved by the gentle touch, that it took you a moment to realize the way Curtis was rocking against you, obviously hard and turned on by your “punishment.”
When his fingers teased between your thighs and you immediately spread them to give him access to your cunt, he laughed. “You learn quickly, pretty prize, I’ll give you that.”
A different type of mortification warmed your face as Curtis’ fingers danced and swirled all along your bare cunt. You still couldn’t believe the way your body responded to him, how wet you got for him, and how quickly.
Even after he hurt you, even as you roiled in self-loathing, your body was pressing back into the questing touch of Curtis’ fingers, eager for more.
“Mmm, look at that, I’ve got you crying from both ends now, huh?”
Before you could even completely absorb his words, Curtis moved, with you in tow. You barely got your hands under you to perch on all fours on the floor before he was shoving into you so hard, you keened long and loud as he began to pummel your insides with his cock.
For the first time since the night you had met and he had ravished you in front ot his men and the cooling corpses of your family, you tried to move away from Curtis as he fucked you.
Because it was like a flash of agony each and every time his hips snapped against your raw, still burning ass.
“Please, it hurts!” you whined, trying to push back at him, slow his fervor, anything to stop the blistering pain.
“Hurts so good,” Curtis panted, shoving your face down into the carpet. He gathered your hands at the small of your back, grunting and groaning as your pussy clenched and fluttered, spasmed and gripped him tighter than ever before.
He came first, his talented fingers playing with your clit to drive you over the edge just after him.
“Fuck, that’s it, milk my fucking cock,” he groaned as he unloaded inside of you, hips rutting as he pumped you full of him, until your sensitive cunt had milked him of every last drop, just like he wanted.
Just like you were made for.
You sniffled, trembling and spent beneath him, whining softly as Curtis gripped your ass in both hands and gave it a harsh grope. He tugged your cheeks apart, pulling his cock from you slowly and watching in smug satisfaction as his cream trickled from your quivering hole.
“Don’t waste a drop, pretty prize,” Curtis’ voice was smoky as his fingers caught the mess and shoved it back inside of you. He gave your inner walls a few strokes, laughing as you squealed in overstimulation and clenched around his fingers. “One day, I’m gonna go at you and make you cum so many times you pass out, but not today, sweetheart. Not when you’ve been so bad for me. You don’t deserve all that pleasure right now.”
He swiftly rose to his feet before pulling you up to yours, not bothering to tuck his spent cock away as he marched you back over to the pedestal.
“Let’s see if you can actually listen this time,” he taunted as he shoved you to the center of the wooden perch.
He arranged you so that you were face down and ass up, spreading your legs obscenely wide to give him the perfect view of your well spanked ass and cum leaking pussy at the same time.
“You move a muscle and the next hole leaking my cream is gonna be this one,” Curtis murmured, thumbing along your virgin rosebud and laughing at your miserable wail.
Giving your ass a final smack, Curtis sauntered back to his desk. He took a moment to put himself back together before he sank into his seat and enjoyed the view of you on pretty, perfect display for him for a long moment before finally getting back to work.
NEXT PART
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So I should move right?….right…I need more sir!
Ho jail for Madi time
Well this Curtis is certainly happy to keep you locked up, just for him 🫠
