Possesive
You cannot own people - even slavery is only the (presumed and imposed) right to a physical body. No amount of bidding sub hasta will ever give you the right to a soul, and if it could, it would be worthless, as the value of such possession is in the choice of a free individual to be yours, not in forced companionship.
You cannot own people - and even if they say you do, they can’t mean permanently or completely; they can’t mean with all of the caveats you wish to impose (”Don’t talk to her.” “Don’t stand so close.” “Don’t go.”).
Yet, I wish I owned you - in the worst and best ways possible. I wish I could make you stay with me, indefinitely. I wish I could know you would never fall for anyone else. I wish I could set rules for you to follow, so I could be certain of your behavior.
But I want you to be you, and I want you to choose me and restrict your behavior accordingly. I don’t want to need to make rules or worry about having them broken.
I wish I owned you - I, the ever competitive. I wish I could defeat you, my one steady foe over these past years.
But then, I enjoy the struggle, and I enjoy your challenge - the thrill of knowing you might succeed where I cannot. Compared to matching our wills, I would find unearned dominance shallow.
I wish I owned you, but more accurately, I wish I knew you would continue to choose me, to give yourself to me of you own free accord.
No, I cannot own you, but I need you to be mine.