Sakura Matou (Fate Stay Night)

Sakura was around at Shirou Emiya's place, making breakfast for him as usual, but with her thoughts going crazy inside of her head. The day before she had done something insane, and it was still ripping through her mind like a train through a tunnel. She'd been given a sharpie while out on the street, and when she'd gotten home she'd written a little doodle of her name on her wrist, and suddenly she'd been extremely aware that she owned her body and no one else did.

Her grandfather had seen it on her, and she had been completely paralysed as he stared at her wrist for quite along time before she'd been rendered almost insensate by the worms pouring out of her body and writhing off down into the basement to join the rest of them. "Hmm. It seems your body belongs to you after all." He had croaked out.

She'd run for it the moment she could get back onto her feet, heading to Shirou's house and spending the night. Now she was here. It was incredible feeling her body free of worms for the first time in years. She felt empty, but that was matched and overwhelmed by the feeling of freedom she was experiencing now. No more of their constant squirming, the arousal they had **** on her at all times as they feasted upon her mana and soul. She was so thankful for it being finished now.

But now there was the question of what to do with herself now that she was her own woman at last? Her hand drifted to her pocket that still contained the sharpie that had made all of this possible. What could she do with this now?

The question was simple. As she plated up her the meals and brought them through to the table where Shirou had just arrived after his morning exercise routine. She placed down the breakfast in front of him, and then the sharpie down next to his plate. "Umm. Sakura?" Shirou asked her.

"Could you do me a favour Senpai? Please just do one thing for me without questioning why." She begged him while hastily scrubbing away at the words on her wrist marking her as her own.

"Okay? What do you need me to do?"

"Can you just use that pen to write your name on my hand here?" She said, offering her palm to him. Shirou looked between the pen, and her hand, and up to her face begging him to do this without question.

"Alright." He acquiesced after a moment, picking up the pen and uncapping it, before writing his name on her hand in quick smooth lines. "There you go."

"Thank you!" She said, bringing her hand up to her face and looking at it, now she was... no different. She wasn't her own anymore, but she wasn't Shirou's either. Why wasn't she? Quickly she scribbled her name on her own plate of breakfast.

"Ah. Sorry you had to use your own plate for breakfast. I'd have offered you one of mine if I'd realised." So that still worked did it? But why hadn't the sharpie worked for Shirou?

Getting up from the table and moving over to a cabinet she knew Shirou kept his pens in, she got one of Shirou's own sharpies out and came back to the table. Quickly her name was scribbled onto the surface of the table. "Oh god Sakura, I didn't realise you owned the living room table. Should I move everything?"

"No no Senpai. It's fine. You can use my table like normal." Sakura's response was flat and automatic. Her brain was focussed on the results of her little test. This was insane. The power, the ability to claim anything as her own property. It wasn't the sharpie. It was her.

She couldn't handle this. She couldn't be trusted with this. She was just Sakura, the adoring Kouhai and... the one crushing on Shirou Emiya. She wasn't meant to be some powerful person who could shape the world, she was supposed to be a housewife.

A thought struck her. She grabbed the sharpie up again, and then quickly wrote a name on her hand again. But this time not her own.

Shirou Emiya's

Please let this work. She presented her hand with the words written on it to Shirou. He looked at it for a moment. Then he spoke. "Sakura. Sit down and eat." She obeyed instantly. She was his after all.

Oh god she was his. SHE WAS HIS! This was everything she had ever wanted. Shirou was her owner now, and it felt orgasmic to think.

Everything she was, was now his to make use of however he wanted. And yet her mind was already thinking, already whirring away with a new thought. She was Shirou's now, but why should she be the only one he owned? If she had been his girlfriend she might be jealous, but as his property, how could she ever be jealous of him having more property. A table doesn't complain about there also being a chair.