Collared by the CEO

The Collaring

Amelia

The limousine pulled into an underground garage, its tires whispering against polished concrete. Alexander's hand remained wrapped around mine, his thumb still tracing those slow circles that had become hypnotic. I didn't resist when he helped me out, didn't pull away when he guided me toward a private elevator with a keypad I'd never seen before.

The penthouse was nothing like I'd imagined.

I'd expected cold minimalism chrome and glass and sharp edges. Instead, the elevator opened into warmth. Dark hardwood floors. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the glittering skyline. Plus the furniture in deep burgundies and rich browns. Art on the walls that looked original, priceless. A fire crackled in a marble hearth, casting dancing shadows across the room.

"Come."

He led me past the living room, past a gourmet kitchen, down a hallway lined with closed doors. My heart hammered with each step. Where was he taking me?

He stopped before a door that looked like all the others. But when he pressed his palm against a hidden panel, it slid open with a soft hiss.

The room beyond stole my breath.

It was a palace of darkness and pleasure. The walls were mirrored, reflecting infinite versions of us standing in the doorway. A St. Andrew's cross dominated one wall, its black leather padding gleaming under soft lighting. A spanking bench sat nearby, angled toward a suspension rig that hung from the ceiling like a promise. Shelves lined the far wall, filled with implements I couldn't name floggers, paddles, clamps, things that gleamed silver and black.

In the center of the room, a single spotlight illuminated a velvet cushion on the floor.

"Kneel."

My legs moved before my mind could catch up. I crossed the room on shaking legs and lowered myself onto the cushion, the velvet soft beneath my bare knees. I was still wearing the clothes he'd dressed me in the silk blouse, the expensive skirt. But I felt naked. Exposed. Completely vulnerable.

Alexander circled me slowly, his footsteps echoing in the soundproofed room. When he stopped before me, I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes.

"You're trembling."

"Yes."

"Good." He reached into his pocket and withdrew something that made my breath catch. A collar. Delicate platinum links, studded with diamonds that sparkled in the spotlight. It was elegant. Beautiful. Expensive. And unmistakably a symbol of ownership.

"This is a day collar," he said, holding it up for me to see. "You'll always wear it. In public, it will appear to be nothing more than jewelry. But we'll both know what it means."

He knelt before me, bringing himself to my level. His gray eyes held mine as he reached around my throat.

"This is the moment you become mine, Amelia. Truly, completely mine. There's no going back from this. Do you understand?"

I thought of Jamie. Of the contract. Of everything I'd already surrendered.

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I understand."

The collar clicked into place. The weight of it settled against my throat not heavy, but present. Constant. A reminder of what I'd become.

Alexander's fingers traced the platinum links. "You're collared now. Claimed. Mine to use, mine to break, mine to cherish." His thumb brushed my pulse. "How does it feel?"

I swallowed, feeling the collar shift against my skin. "Like I belong to you."

"Because you do." He stood, towering over me once more. "Now. Let's begin."

What followed was hours of exquisite torment.

He started with his c**k in my mouth. I'd never done this before had no idea what to expect but he guided me with a hand fisted in my hair, teaching me the rhythm, the depth, the pressure. When I gagged, he pushed deeper. When tears streamed down my face, he told me I was beautiful. When he finally came, hot and bitter down my throat, he held me in place until I swallowed every drop.

"Good girl," he murmured, stroking my hair. "But we're not done."

He bent me over the spanking bench, my bare ass elevated and exposed. I heard the whistle of a flogger a moment before it landed, and I screamed not from pain, but from the shock of it. The leather tails bit into my skin, leaving trails of fire.

"Count," he commanded.

I counted. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. By the time he stopped, my ass was glowing, my thighs were wet with my own arousal, and I was sobbing.

Then he f****d me.

He took me on the bench, deep and claiming. He took me against the mirrored wall, my hands braced on glass, watching my own face contort with pleasure. He took me on the suspension rig, my wrists bound above my head, my body swinging with each brutal thrust.

And then he introduced me to anal.

I'd never I couldn't but he was patient, surprisingly gentle. His fingers first, slick with oil, stretching me slowly. Then a plug small at first, then larger. The fullness was overwhelming, almost unbearable, but somehow perfect. By the time he replaced the plug with his c**k, I was begging for it.

"Please," I gasped. "Please, please—"

"Please what?"

"Please f**k me. Please fill me. Please—"

He gave me what I asked for.

I lost count of my orgasms. I lost track of time. The world narrowed to the feel of his body against mine, inside mine, consuming me. He edged me relentlessly, bringing me to the brink and pulling back until I screamed with frustration. He made me beg like a desperate slut, and I did God help me, I did.

When he finally allowed me release, I came so hard I saw stars. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me, and I sobbed with gratitude, my body shaking, my mind blank. Afterward, he held me.

He carried me to a chaise lounge in the corner of the playroom and wrapped me in a soft blanket. He cleaned me gently with a warm cloth, murmuring praise against my hair. He fed me water and small bites of chocolate, checking my wrists for marks, my throat for any sign of discomfort.

"You did well," he whispered. "So well. I'm proud of you."

I felt cherished. Broken. Whole. All at once.

As I drifted toward sleep, exhausted and wrung out, I heard him on the phone. His voice was low, but the words cut through my haze.

"The medical treatment is approved. He will live."

Jamie. Jamie would live.

Tears slipped down my cheeks silent, relieved, grateful. I had done this. I had sold myself, surrendered myself, let this man break me apart and put me back together. And my brother would live.

I had already forgotten why I ever hesitated.

The collar weighed against my throat, warm now from my skin. I reached up to touch it, feeling the diamonds, the platinum, the click of the lock that had sealed my fate.

I was his.

And for the first time since my father died, I felt something dangerously close to peace.