Chapter 9
755 Words
The sound of the collar clasping shut echoed louder than it should have.
My throat felt bare… owned… precious.
And Dominic Vale? He looked at me like I was a prize he’d hunted, caught, and now had no intention of ever setting free.
“Come with me,” he said.
I didn’t move.
He didn’t ask again.
He simply took my wrist and led me deeper into the estate, his grip firm but not cruel. Like a leash in disguise.
We passed rooms I couldn’t absorb — chandeliers, fireplaces, decadent rugs, and walls lined with locked doors.
Until we stopped in front of one.
Unlike the others, this one was black. Matte. Soundproofed.
He unlocked it with his thumbprint.
Then stepped aside.
“Go in.”
My breath caught.
The room inside was—
Velvet walls. Mirrors. Candlelight. Silk ropes hanging from golden rings in the ceiling. A bench I didn’t recognize but knew instinctively I’d be bent over. A padded cross. A drawer slightly cracked, revealing satin blindfolds… cuffs… clamps.
And in the center of the room: a bed. Massive. Red. Wrapped in leather and trimmed with gold.
I turned to him, heart pounding. “What is this?”
His eyes gleamed.
“My sanctuary,” he said. “And now… yours.”
I shook my head. “You built this for—?”
“You.”
He stepped inside, crowding me back until the door shut behind us.
“I’ve imagined you in this room a hundred different ways,” he said lowly. “But none of them came close to how perfect you look in it.”
I backed up into the bedframe. “You’re insane.”
His hand curled around my throat — just enough to make me feel small. Claimed.
“No,” he said, voice dark and soft. “I’m obsessed.”
He leaned down, kissing the diamond at my throat again.
Then he whispered, “Safe word is ‘mercy.’ You say it, everything stops. You don’t? Then you belong to me in here—completely.”
My breath stuttered.
He waited. Watching.
And I nodded.
That’s all he needed.
⸻
He stripped me slowly.
Not rushed. Not frantic.
He peeled away each piece of fabric like it was a secret, like he was unraveling me one layer at a time.
When I stood naked before him, he didn’t smirk. He didn’t gloat.
He whispered, “Beautiful,” and knelt at my feet.
He kissed the inside of my thigh.
Then he shackled my wrists with padded cuffs that hung from the ceiling. Arms above my head. Spine arched. Vulnerable.
“Color?” he asked.
“Green,” I whispered.
He kissed my mouth. Deep. Possessive. Tender.
Then the crop landed across my ass. Sharp. Controlled.
I gasped.
Not from pain.
From need.
Another strike. Then his mouth followed — tongue lapping at the heat, teasing where it ached most.
He fingered me slow and deep, voice in my ear the entire time.
“Moaning for me already, sweetheart? I haven’t even f****d you yet.”
Then he stopped.
Left me trembling.
I whimpered.
He growled.
“Pathetic little thing,” he murmured. “You don’t even know what you need anymore. But I do.”
He uncuffed me.
Bent me over the edge of the bed.
He played with my n*****s and then his d**k probed my entrance and then he went in,just a bit and I bit back my tears,his wide and long and my legs shook as he went all in
“I cried out in pain and pleasure and he groaned so deeply and dominating
He f****d me from behind
Hard. Relentless. One hand fisted in my hair, the other gripping my throat — not choking, just owning.
His voice broke through every thrust.
“You’re mine.”
“You run, I’ll drag you back.”
“You beg, I’ll make you beg harder.”
I shattered around him, screaming.
Not from pain.
From surrender.
⸻
After
He didn’t speak.
He just pulled me into his lap, wrapped in a velvet robe. His chest was warm. His heartbeat steady.
“Why me?” I asked, finally. “Why all of this?”
His fingers stroked my thigh.
“Because when you walked into that club,” he whispered, “I didn’t see a stripper.”
I looked up.
“I saw a queen in chains,” he said. “And I decided to be the only man allowed to hold the key.”
- Writer
