WREC Room

Some flames don’t burn—they consume.”

The WREC room was darker tonight.

The single red light above the cage flickered, like it was breathing. Sweat and smoke still clung to the walls from the last time she was here. But this time… it was different.

She wore black vinyl gloves.

Not for protection.

For power.

A collar rested in her palm—red, velvet-lined, fastened with a silver buckle. Wolf’s request.

Her heels clicked slowly across the cracked tiles. Every step was deliberate, a quiet war drum.

She reached the cage at the center.

Empty. Waiting.

Behind her, the door creaked open.

She didn’t need to look.

She knew it was him.

“You’re late,” she said.

“You’re early,” he countered.

His voice—low, smooth, unhurried—crawled across her shoulders like silk soaked in gasoline.

They stood across from each other, bodies almost in orbit.

He was all shadows and quiet menace in a black thermal and chain-draped pants. The scar on his collarbone, just visible, glinted under the red light. His boots squeaked faintly as he stepped closer.

Dominique tilted her head.

“You brought it?” she asked.

He held up the second collar—the one he had made. Worn leather, scarlet thread, a tiny tag that read Alpha’s Mark.

She raised a brow.

“Who said you’re the Alpha?”

“You did,” he said, walking past her, “when you invited me back.”

She didn’t reply.

Instead, she reached for the cage door and opened it.

He stepped inside.

And waited.

She circled him like a storm cloud trimmed in silk.

The tension didn’t build—it coiled.

Every breath between them came heavier. Every silence screamed.

He knelt without her asking.

And she...

She just stood there, hand resting lightly on the top of the cage.

“You think you’ve earned it?” she asked.

“I think I’ve earned something.”

“You’ll take what I give you,” she said, circling again. “Nothing more.”

“And what if I take you instead?”

Her heart skipped.

But her face never flinched.

“Try.”

The scene played out in electricity.

Not literal—though the corded toys gleamed from the wall—but in mood. In control.

Her gloved hand traced his jaw, slow and cool.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t blink.

When her lips hovered by his ear, she whispered:

“Every command I give tonight will burn into memory.”

“Then make me remember.”

She fastened the collar around his neck, slow and deliberate.

A hush fell.

Her breath hitched.

So did his.

They stared.

One heartbeat.

Two.

She raised her hand—

In the dimly lit WREC room, the air buzzed with anticipation as Domica, dressed in a sleek, black bodysuit, stood before Wolf, who was clad in a vibrant red onesie. The virtual reality headsets cast a glow on their faces, immersing them in a world where their roles could shift with a thought. Domica's voice was firm and commanding, "On your knees, sub." Wolf complied, his eyes locked on hers, his body trembling with a mix of excitement and submission. Domica stepped closer, her black heels clicking against the floor. She placed her foot on his shoulder, her heel digging into his flesh. "Lick," she commanded, her voice a low, dangerous purr. Wolf's tongue traced a path up her leg, his movements slow and deliberate. He reached her core, his tongue flicking against her clit, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. Domica gasped, her hands gripping his hair, guiding him. But as he licked harder, his movements more urgent, she dug her heel into his shoulder, a sharp, stinging pain that made him pause. "Stop," she commanded, her voice a low, stern warning. "Not yet." She led him to an immersion table, her movements fluid and confident. She secured his wrists and ankles to the table, flipping him upside down, his face mere inches from her core. She unzipped his pants, his cock already hard and ready. She took him in her hand, her grip firm as she stroked him, her movements slow and teasing. Wolf's breaths came in ragged gasps, his body straining against the restraints, but he didn't moan, understanding her game, knowing that any sound would be a mistake. The timer on the wall ticked down, the seconds counting away until it reached zero. Domica released him, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. Wolf stood, his movements fluid and confident. He approached her, his eyes locked on hers, a challenging glint in his gaze. He secured her to the table, her limbs spread out, her body vulnerable and exposed. He grabbed a clit stimulator, entering it on low, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure through her body. He circled her nipples with ice, the contrast of hot and cold sending shivers down her spine. Domica moaned, her body arching against the restraints, her eyes locked on his. Wolf pinched her nipples, his touch firm and demanding, a light slap sending a sting of pain through her body. She moaned again, her body coiling tight with anticipation. Wolf leaned down, his lips finding her neck, his kisses soft and teasing. The timer ticked down, the seconds counting away until it reached zero. Domica was released, her body trembling with anticipation. She approached Wolf, her movements fluid and confident. She commanded him to get on all fours, his body exposed and vulnerable. She stood before him, her face stern, her eyes locked on his. She knew she had her viewers, their attention locked on her, waiting for her next move. Wolf's tongue traced a path up her leg, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on hers, understanding both roles too well.

From the monitor, the stream pulsed live.

Thousands were watching.

Tips flew in. Messages flooded the sidebar.

But one stood out.

Not in caps.

Not in emojis.

Just plain text:

I’m in the room behind you.

—F

Dominique froze.

But only for a second.

She didn’t turn.

She didn’t speak.

Instead, she walked to the camera, leaned down with a smirk, and whispered into the mic:

“I hope you’re watching, little fox. Because I don’t run from shadows.”

Then she looked over her shoulder at Wolf—chained, waiting, still, but burning beneath the surface.

And she grinned.

“I run through them.”

The screen faded to black.