Collared by the CEO

The Contract

Amelia

The elevator chimed softly as it opened onto the executive floor. I stepped out on legs that felt like water, my worn ballet flats silent against the polished marble. The only light came from the floor-to-ceiling windows wrapping around the building's corner, casting empty cubicles in silver and shadow.

Midnight. He'd summoned me at midnight.

Three years of invisible service. Three years of arriving before dawn, leaving after dusk, anticipating his every need before he voiced it. Three years of watching Alexander Knight from the periphery cold, untouchable, devastatingly beautiful in his cruelty.

He'd never once summoned me after hours.

My brother's hospital bracelet pressed against my wrist as I walked past the empty reception desk. Jamie. The machines had been beeping their steady rhythm when my phone buzzed. I'd kissed his forehead, promised to return, and fled into the night.

He's stable. He's stable and you need this job.

The glass walls of Alexander's corner office glowed dimly ahead. Through the frosted partition, his silhouette stood motionless against the window. A predator waiting in the dark.

I knocked.

"Enter."

That voice. Low and rough, like gravel wrapped in silk. I'd heard him use it to close billion-dollar deals, to eviscerate incompetent executives, to command entire rooms without raising his voice. He'd never directed it at me with more than clinical detachment.

Until tonight.

I pushed open the door.

The office was a monument to masculine power dark wood, sharp angles, the subtle scent of leather and bergamot. A massive desk dominated the space, pristine except for a manila folder and a crystal tumbler of amber liquid. Behind it, the city sprawled like a glittering carpet.

Alexander turned from the window. His white shirt stretched across powerful shoulders, sleeves rolled to reveal tanned forearms. His pale gray eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my knees weak.

"Close the door."

I obeyed, the click of the latch sealing us in together.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Knight?"

"Amelia." He said my name like he was tasting it. "Sit."

I didn't. "Is something wrong? Did I—"

"You've done nothing wrong." He moved toward me, each step deliberate. "Sit down."

I perched on the edge of the chair opposite his desk. The leather was cold through my thin skirt. I looked exactly like a tired, desperate woman barely holding herself together.

He remained standing, looming over me. For a moment, he simply looked at me, cataloging every detail.

"You've been with the company for three years. Your performance is exceptional. You're efficient, discreet, intelligent." He reached for the tumbler. "Tell me about your brother."

The words hit like a physical blow. "How do you—"

"I know everything about you. Your father died eighteen months ago under suspicious circumstances. Your stepmother Lydia has substantial gambling debts. Your brother Jamie requires experimental treatment costing two point three million dollars." He set down the glass and slid the folder toward me. "Open it."

I stared at it. "What is this?"

"Open it."

My hands trembled as I reached for it. Inside was a thick document stamped with the seal of one of the city's most expensive law firms. The title stared up at me:

CONSENSUAL TOTAL SERVITUDE AGREEMENT

The room tilted. "What... what is this?"

"Read it."

I did. With every clause, my horror grew.

The Servant agrees to surrender all bodily autonomy for the duration of the contract...

The Servant will wear the Master's collar at all times...

The Servant will submit to any and all s****l acts deemed appropriate by the Master...

The Servant will maintain complete discretion...

"A one-year contract." Alexander circled the desk slowly. "One year of complete, total submission. You will belong to me body, mind, and soul. You will obey my every command. You will accept my discipline, my punishment, my pleasure."

"You're insane."

"Am I?" He stopped beside my chair. "Your stepmother didn't think so when she signed on your behalf."

The bottom dropped out of my world. "Lydia? No. She wouldn't—"

"She accepted a two-hundred-thousand-dollar advance. The funds have been transferred. Your brother's treatment has been approved and scheduled." His tone was almost boring. "The hospital has received a down payment. The remainder will be paid upon successful completion of our arrangement."

I couldn't breathe. Lydia had sold me. Sold me like livestock.

"Jamie's treatment..." I whispered.

"Is guaranteed." His hand came down on the back of my chair. "All you have to do is sign."

"This is illegal—"

"Entirely legal. Reviewed by three separate firms." His voice dropped, intimate. "You know what's at stake, Amelia. You know what happens if you refuse."

Jamie. Jamie with his pale, exhausted face and brave smile. Jamie who believed his big sister could fix anything.

"You're a monster," I whispered.

"Perhaps." His hand caught my chin, tilting my face up. His thumb traced my lower lip. "But I'm the monster who's going to save your brother's life. The question is, how much is that worth to you?"

Tears burned my eyes. "I don't even know you."

"You know enough. You've watched me for three years. You've seen the man beneath the monster." He crouched beside my chair, bringing himself to my level. "You've been surviving for so long. I'm offering you a chance to live."

Slowly, I pulled my hand from his. I picked up the pen.

"Sign, Amelia. Save your brother. Give yourself to me."

Jamie's face floated before me. His courage. His belief that I could fix anything.

I signed.

Alexander returned with Mason Brooks, his vice president. Mason was handsome, warm-eyed, unsurprised to see me sitting there at midnight with the contract spread before me.

"Ms. Hart. I trust you've read the agreement thoroughly?"

"I have."

"And you're signing willingly? No coercion?"

I thought of Jamie. "I'm signing willingly."

Mason produced a camera, recorded my signature and verbal affirmation, then placed the original in a secure briefcase. "Everything's in order. I'll file these tonight."

He glanced at me with something like sympathy. "For what it's worth, Alexander is demanding, but he's fair. He'll take care of you."

"Get out," Alexander said, not unkindly.

Mason left. The door clicked shut.

I sat frozen, heart pounding. The contract was signed. I belong to Alexander Knight now.

"Stand up."

I obeyed without thinking. He approached slowly, eyes dark with something that made my breath catch.

"You signed. You're mine now."

"Y-yes."

"Say it."

"I'm yours."

"Good girl." His fingers found the collar of my blouse. "Now we seal the deal."

"You didn't think signing a piece of paper was enough, did you?" He undid the first button. "I told you I'm going to demonstrate exactly what you agreed to."

He pushed my blouse open. His eyes traced the modest swell of my breasts. "You're trembling. Are you afraid?"

"Yes."

"Good." He pulled my blouse from my shoulders. "But you're also aroused. I can smell it on you."

"I don't—"

"Don't lie." He pulled me against him, the hard length of his erection pressing into my hip. "You want this. As much as you hate yourself for it you want to be taken. Used. Owned."

He spun me around, bending me over the desk. His palm pressed against my upper back.

"Stay."

His hands found my zipper. My skirt pooled around my ankles, leaving me in my bra and sensible cotton panties.

"Cotton. How delightfully innocent."

Crack.

His palm connected with my right buttock. I gasped, arching against the desk.

"Count."

"One."

Crack. "Two."

Crack. "Three."

By ten, my ass was on fire, tears streaming, my p***y shamefully wet. I could feel my arousal dripping down my thighs.

"Please stop," I sobbed.

"We're just getting started."

His hand slid between my legs, finding me through the damp cotton. I jerked, but he held me in place.

"You're soaked. Dripping like a little slut."

"I'm not—"

"You are. And you love it." He pushed my panties aside, fingers finding bare flesh. I cried out. "So responsive. So needy. So f*****g perfect."

His fingers circled my c**t. I saw stars.

He worked me with ruthless precision, building pressure until I was gasping, writhing, desperate.

"Please—"

"You want to come?"

"Yes—"

"Then come. Show me what you are."

I was shattered. The orgasm ripped through me, violent and overwhelming. I screamed, body convulsing, vision going white.

When I came back, I was sobbing.

"Beautiful." I heard his belt unbuckle, his zipper rasp. "Now let's see how you handle the main event."

"No—"

"You can. You will." The head of his c**k pressed against my entrance. "You're a virgin, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Good. I wanted to be the first. The only."

He pushed inside.

The pain was sharp, immediate. He split me open, claiming me. I tried to pull away, but his hand fisted in my hair.

"Take it. Take all of it."

He paused when fully seated, giving me a moment. Then he began to move.

The thrusts were deep, powerful. The pain faded, replaced by pleasure I'd never known. I could feel every inch of him sliding against my walls. My body responded instinctively, hips rocking back to meet him.

"That's it. Take my c**k like a good little whore."

The words inflamed me. I moaned, pushing back.

"More—"

"Greedy thing." He f****d me harder. "You want me to ruin you completely?"

"Yes—"

He reached around, fingers finding my c**t. I came again, convulsing around his c**k. He followed, hips jerking, emptying himself inside me.

He pulled out slowly. I felt his seed dripping down my thighs.

"Turn around."

I obeyed. He looked at me flushed, wild, marked and something satisfied flickered in his eyes.

"You're mine now. Completely, irrevocably mine."

He scooped me up, carrying me to the windows. The glass was cold against my skin as he pressed me against it.

"Look at the city."

I looked. Millions of lights, millions of people unaware of what was happening.

"It all belongs to me. Every building. Every person." His hand found my hip. "And now, little assistant, so do you."

He entered me again from behind. I watched our reflection his powerful form, my exposed body, his hands on my hips.

"Watch yourself take me. Watch yourself come undone."

I couldn't look away. The sight was hypnotic. I watched my face contort with pleasure, watched myself shatter around him once more.

When he came, I felt something shift inside me. Something irrevocable.

He pulled out, catching me before I could fall.

"You did well. Better than well."

I should hate him. But all I could do was cling to him.

He carried me to a private bathroom, set me in the shower, stripped off his shirt, and stepped in behind me.

"Just let me take care of you."

His hands were gentle now, washing away the evidence. It was the tenderness that undid me.

"Why do you care?" I whispered.

"Because you're mine." He kissed my shoulder. "And I protect what's mine."

He dried me, dressed me in soft, expensive clothes. "Your apartment is being packed. You'll move into my penthouse tonight. Tomorrow, your brother transfers to a private facility. Everything is taken care of."

"And me?"

He smiled a real smile that transformed his face. "You become mine. And you learn to love it."

He led me to the elevator, down to a waiting limousine. As the car slid through silent streets, I stared out the window.

Mine, his voice echoed.

I was. God help me, I was.

And as his hand found mine in the darkness, thumb stroking slow circles across my knuckles, I realized I didn't completely hate it.

That was the most terrifying thing of all.