He tried to speak with authority this morning.
It was the smallest rebellion — a faint echo of the Supreme Alpha he used to be — and I crushed it without raising my voice.
I had him kneeling again on the raised medical bed, thighs spread, hands clasped behind his back, c**k heavy and leaking between his legs. The position had become ritual now. Repeated kneeling. Calculated delay. Strategic weakness. Every morning he fought the tremble in his muscles just to hold it for me.
“Doctor Sanchez,” he rasped, trying to sound like the man who once commanded armies. “The Council… they won’t wait forever. If I don’t appear soon, Kane will—”
I stepped forward and placed two fingers under his chin, tilting his head up until our eyes met.
“Quiet.”
The single word was soft. Absolute.
His mouth cl
