I wake up to the scent of him.
Not just his skin. But his sheets, his shirt wrapped around my body, his cum still seeping down my thighs. My pussy aches—used, pulsing with memory. He’s already up. I hear the shower running and my pulse quickens. I should leave. I should get dressed, walk out, and never look back. But I don’t. Instead, I rise from the bed and follow the sound of water like a moth to flame. The bathroom door is open. Steam spills out in curls. He stands under the spray, facing away, water running down every inch of his muscled back. I don’t announce myself. I step in. Naked. Quiet. My hands slide around his waist. He doesn’t flinch. “I was wondering when you’d crawl back.” His voice is deep and sharp, like velvet laced with blades. “You made me ache,” I whisper. He turns. Water slicks his dark hair back. His jaw is sharp, his lips slightly parted, his eyes locked on mine like I’m a prize he hasn’t finished breaking yet. “You liked being denied, didn’t you?” I nod. “Say it.” “I loved being teased. In public. Controlled.” “You’re filth.” “And you make me worse.” He slams me against the shower wall with one hand around my throat, just enough pressure to thrill but not bruise. “Beg me to use you.” I shiver. “Please. Fuck me. Punish me. Break me if you want to.” His growl vibrates against my skin. He drops to his knees and licks me. Rough and fast. No buildup. No mercy. His tongue flicks over my clit in tight, punishing circles, then plunges deep into my core. I cry out, the sound bouncing off the tiles. My hands claw into his hair. “You’re already soaked,” he mutters, voice muffled against my pussy. “You were dreaming about me, weren’t you?” “Yes,” I pant. “I woke up wet.” “You’re always wet for me.” His hands spread my thighs wider, lifting one leg over his shoulder as he buries himself deeper. Every lick is brutal. Fast. Desperate. Addictive. I come in seconds. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, licking through the aftershocks, driving me straight into another. I scream his name, hips jerking, toes curling on the wet tiles. He finally stands. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then slaps my ass hard. Once. Twice. I whimper and fall into his chest. “I’m not done with you.” He doesn’t take me to the bed this time. He takes me to the full-length mirror on the closet door. Bends me over the dresser. Forces me to watch. “Look at yourself.” My reflection stares back—flushed, lips parted, collar snug around my throat like a neon sign screaming ‘owned’. He rubs the head of his cock against my slit. “You know what I see?” he asks. I swallow. “What?” “A dirty little slut who begged to be filled in public and loved every fucking second of it.” He thrusts deep inside me. I moan, watching my reflection tremble. He grabs my hair, forces me to keep my eyes open. “Don’t look away.” I don’t. Even when he pounds into me harder than he ever has. Even when he slaps my breast, then grips my throat, fingers digging in possessively. Even when he talks—filthy, dominant, raw. “You wanted punishment?” “Yes.” “You want to be used?” “Yes, sir.” “You’ll never be able to fuck anyone else again. You’ll ruin yourself for every man who isn’t me.” “I already am.” He loses it then. Slams into me with such force the dresser rocks against the wall. My orgasm is messy, loud, and long. He doesn’t pull out. He spills deep inside me, still gripping my throat as his eyes stay locked on my reflection. “Mine,” he growls. We lie tangled on the floor afterward. Naked. Sweaty. He drapes one arm over my waist. The other trails fingers lazily up and down my back. “I should leave,” I whisper. “Why?” “Because I don’t know who I’m becoming with you.” “You’re becoming honest.” I turn my head to look at him. “I don’t do relationships.” “Good,” he says without missing a beat. “Because this isn’t one.” “Oh?” “This is ownership.” I shiver. “You’re serious.” “I told you what I want. You obey. You come. You beg. That’s the deal.” “No feelings?” “None.” My chest twists. But it’s exactly what I told myself I wanted too. So why does his detachment sting? Later that night, he tells me not to come back for three days. A rule. A test, of course. “Keep the collar on,” he says. “Sleep in it. Touch yourself if you want, but you don’t get to come unless I give permission.” “And if I do?” “I’ll know.” “You can’t possibly—” “I’ll know.” I nod. He kisses me. But it’s not tender. It’s a warning. Three days later, I’m back in Room 406. Panting. Desperate. I didn’t last more than twenty-four hours without touching myself. And I came. Twice. I’m ashamed of how easily I gave in. How needy I became. When he opens the door, I drop to my knees without a word. He looks down at me coldly. “You disobeyed.” “Yes.” “You came without permission.” I nod. “Twice,” I admit. His jaw tightens. “I warned you.” “I’m sorry,” I whisper, lowering my eyes. He steps aside. “Get in.” The punishment starts the second the door shuts. He grabs a black silk scarf from the drawer and blindfolds me then cuffs my wrists behind my back. I hear him circling me. Hear drawers open and close. I don’t know what he’s going to do and I love that. He pushes me onto the bed. “Face down.” I comply, ass up, thighs spread. I feel cool air as he parts me. Then… Crack. A crop lashes across my left cheek. I cry out. Crack. Right side. He doesn’t stop until I’m trembling—my skin hot and stinging, my pussy dripping and twitching. He leans down. “Are you going to come without permission again?” “No.” “Are you mine?” “Yes.” “Say it.” “I’m yours, sir.” He removes the blindfold. And finally—finally—he fucks me. No games. No teasing. Just raw, punishing thrusts that fuck the lesson deep into my bones. I scream with every stroke. Begging. Crying. Cuming until I forget my own name. He finishes inside me again, lips pressed against the back of my neck. “You learn fast,” he murmurs. I smile through the haze. “I aim to please.” He kisses the side of my face. “You do.”Chapter 6 The Cage You CraveIt started with silk.Silk around my wrists. Silk over my eyes. Silk between my thighs, slick with need.Dominic Vale didn’t tie me like a man claiming his lover—he wrapped me like a predator dressing a meal.“You still think you’re here by choice, little thing?”His voice was a rasp over my shoulder, the roughness of it scraping me raw.I opened my mouth to answer, but he slipped two fingers between my lips. Not to hush me—to own me. His fingers pressed against my tongue, slow and deep, until I gagged softly.“Shh,” he murmured. “Just take what I give you.”He pulled the blindfold down tighter.And I was in the dark.Literally. Figuratively. And Emotionally.Because lately, I couldn’t tell what I wanted anymore. I hated that I loved the way he touched me. I hated the thrill that raced through my veins every time he looked at me like I was prey—and he was starving.But the moment he started whispering
Chapter 5 His Rules, My UndoingI didn’t know what morning looked like anymore.Not when my days bled into nights, and my body never stopped aching from how he used it.Dominic Vale didn’t fuck like a man—he devoured like a beast.And this morning?He didn’t let me rest.He woke me up with his mouth between my thighs, tongue relentless, eyes locked on mine like he dared me to break eye contact. When I moaned, twisting against the sheets, he only pressed my hips down harder and growled.I came so hard I cried.And when I came down from the high, chest heaving, he didn’t stop.“I said we’re not done, Maya,” he said, voice like silk stretched over razors. “You don’t come once and think it’s over. You come until I say enough.”That was how the day began.Now it was noon, and I stood at the center of his penthouse, naked again, trembling, wet, branded—waiting.He’d given me a list.A handwritten one, delivered after breakfast.
Chapter 4 BrandedI didn’t expect to be branded.Not literally.But that’s exactly what Dominic Vale did.It started with a text the next morning.You will come to the address below at 11 AM sharp.Do not be late. Do not wear anything under your coat.There was a pin. A luxury townhouse downtown. I recognized the neighborhood—it was the kind of place that charged five figures just to breathe inside.My hands shook as I buttoned up a long trench coat over my bare skin. No bra. No panties. Just the ghost of his cum from the night before, dried between my thighs, and the soft ache of a hole that had been used more times than I could count.I hated how wet I got remembering it.I hated how fast I obeyed.But I showed up.Because I was past the point of pretending I wasn’t addicted to the way he used me.When I knocked, the door opened to a woman in black.Tall, striking, leather gloves to her elbows. She didn’t smile.“Com
Chapter 3 Property of D. ValeThe gold collar hadn’t left my throat.Not since last night.He’d left it on—said nothing about removing it, and I didn’t dare ask.Not when I woke up sore, marked with red streaks on my ass, and his cum still drying between my thighs.I’d stayed in that townhouse all night.Not in a bedroom.No—Dominic had me curled up at the foot of his bed. Naked. Collared. Like a pet.There was a soft blanket laid down—rich, velvety, deliberately placed. My designated space.He’d fed me before bed, too. Not dinner. Him.He’d knelt on the bed and made me open my mouth. Fed me his cock. Slow, deep, deliberate strokes until I gagged and he growled, “Good girl,” like I was his favorite thing.When I swallowed every drop, he rubbed my throat in approval and tucked me into my little space with a smirk.Now it was morning.And the collar was still locked.So were the invisible rules I hadn’t even discovered yet.
Chapter 2 Rules of ObedienceI didn’t remember leaving the building.Not really.My legs barely worked, my panties were still nonexistent, and my mind floated somewhere between stunned and soaking wet.All I could think was—He made me come twice with his mouth before he even kissed me.And then he fucked me on his desk like I was a need he’d been holding back for years.I’d never felt anything like it. Never been used so thoroughly and still begged for more.Because make no mistake—he used me.But I’d let him.Hell, I’d asked for it with my silence.Now I was walking the streets of downtown like some dazed, used-up sex doll in heels. The check in my purse was real. $20,000. First installment.Signed: Dominic Vale.I wasn’t sure what I’d agreed to—but my body felt claimed.And my phone buzzed with a message that made it clear the deal was only just beginning.DOMINIC VALE:Tomorrow. 7:00 p.m. Sharp. Wear black. No
PROLOGUE When broke recent grad Maya lands a last-minute job interview with tech tycoon Dominic Vale, she doesn’t expect to leave his office with a contract instead of an offer letter. He doesn’t want an assistant—he wants discretion, obedience, and availability. What begins as a sugar arrangement quickly spirals into something hotter, darker, and far more addictive than Maya ever expected—especially when Dominic insists she wear no panties to meetings and punishes disobedience with brutal pleasure.“Every time you cross a line, Maya, I’ll make you scream for it.”Chapter 1 No Panties, No QuestionsI didn’t even belong in the building.The security guard looked me up and down like I was either lost or delusional. Probably both. I could feel the judgment scraping along my skin as I stood in the marbled lobby of Vale Industries, clutching a wrinkled résumé and trying not to sweat through my secondhand blouse.“Interview?” I offered weakly.“