The collar around her throat had changed.The black leather was the same. The gold D-ring still glinted against her flushed skin. But now, just beneath it—engraved into a small, darkened tag—was one word:Bride.She wore nothing else.The mansion was darker tonight. The air heavier. Shadows lingered in every corner, thick with anticipation. She felt it in her bones—the tension, the silence before chaos. Her knees pressed into the padded velvet of the ceremonial circle in the center of the room. A ring of black marble framed her naked, kneeling form, glowing faintly under the light of seven overhead chandeliers.Seven figures stood behind those lights. Watching. Waiting.Seven men.Seven masks.Each one had once bid for her. Now, they stood not as owners—but as witnesses.Her body trembled, not from fear, but from need. From the memory of last night’s climax still echoing in her spine. From the bruises Elias had left across her hips. From the delicious ache between her legs that still
The world was quiet after ruin.She lay in a bath of rose-scented water, warm and dark like blood. Her body floated—weightless, sore, satisfied. The flicker of candlelight danced over the high marble walls. Each part of her ached. Her lips were swollen. Her thighs, bruised. Her skin, branded with invisible fingerprints.Yet none of it compared to the storm inside her.He hadn’t spoken since carrying her from the bench.She remembered the way his arms had locked around her, protective in their possessiveness. How the other masked men had watched him, not her, like they answered to him—like he wasn’t one of them but the one above them.And now, the mansion was silent.Too silent.The candles flickered as the heavy door creaked open.She turned her head slowly.He stepped inside. Still masked. Always masked.He wore black slacks, a white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and his sleeves were rolled just like before—exposing forearms that had gripped her throat, held her down, taught her pa
She blinked against the soft golden light as the blindfold slipped from her eyes. Her body throbbed with exhaustion and satisfaction, the sting of clamps and crop still singing across her skin. She lay sprawled on cool silk sheets, every muscle weak, every breath a shallow reminder of how deeply she had been used.But when her gaze shifted to the doorway—and she saw the two masked men standing there—something inside her clenched.Not with fear.With anticipation.Her Master’s voice came from behind her, calm and commanding as always.“You remember the rules, don’t you, pet?”She nodded slowly, already on instinct.“Yes, Sir.”“Then listen closely. Tonight, you will not speak unless spoken to. You will not come unless given permission. And you will do exactly as you’re told.”Her pulse quickened.“Yes, Sir.”One of the masked men stepped forward. He wore a raven mask, sleek and black, with a dark tailored suit that clung to his tall, muscular frame. The second was leaner, a serpent mas
She didn’t know what time it was. Morning, night—it didn’t matter. The mansion had no clocks. No windows. No sunlight. Just soft ambient lighting that shifted depending on her behavior. Red when she disobeyed. White when she pleased him.Today, the lights were red.She knelt on the marble floor, nude except for the black leather collar now around her throat. A golden D-ring rested at the hollow of her neck. A reminder that she wasn’t just owned—she was claimed. A possession with a pulse.The man—her Master—hadn’t spoken since he left her after the punishment. He had watched, of course. Always watching. Always close enough to feel but never close enough to touch.Her body ached from the night before, thighs sore from being forced wide, her backside still bruised. But the ache between her legs—that throb of need—was worse.She hated how badly she wanted him.Footsteps echoed behind her.She didn’t dare look.“Pet,” he said.She shivered. That voice. Calm. Cold. Controlled.“Yes, Sir.”“
The room was silent but alive—like the moment before lightning strikes.She knelt where he had left her, her thighs parted as instructed, her hands behind her back, fingers trembling. Her skin glowed under the soft overhead light, the lace long gone, the air against her bare flesh teasing her nipples into aching peaks. He hadn’t touched her since the car. He hadn’t kissed her again. Not a word since laying out the rules.But he was still there.Watching.She could feel the weight of his stare, heavy and unrelenting from behind that silver wolf mask. He sat in the shadows, one leg crossed casually over the other, a glass of something dark and expensive in his hand. Classical music drifted through the room, soft violins building tension like a whisper before a scream.The red light on the camera blinked steadily.She was being recorded.Everything she did, every breath, every flicker of emotion—it was all being documented.And she hated how wet she still was.“You disobeyed me already,”
The room pulsed with danger and desire. Velvet curtains cloaked the walls, trapping in the musk of cigar smoke, cologne, and something more primal. Rows of men lounged in plush leather chairs, their faces hidden behind ornate masks—foxes, wolves, ravens—each more grotesque or regal than the last. Crystal glasses clinked as they sipped aged scotch, waiting. Watching. Ready.The stage sat in the center like an altar. Bathed in a single spotlight, it was empty… for now.Behind that stage, in a cold back room surrounded by bodyguards and silence, she stood barefoot and trembling in white lace. Thin fabric clung to her curves, translucent under the glare of a single lightbulb. Her wrists bore faint red marks from the earlier restraints, and her lips, glossed and parted, whispered prayers to a god she no longer believed in.This wasn’t how she thought it would end.She never meant to end up here.But fate had a cruel sense of humor. One bad decision. One wrong man. One debt too steep to pay