Chapter 3: Playroom Punishment

I woke up to the sound of voices.

For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. My body still ached from the night before.

The voices grew louder.

I slid off the bed, wincing at the soreness between my thighs, and tiptoed to the door. It wasn’t locked this time.

“You think the mafia will wait forever?” the stranger growled. “You’re supposed to marry his daughter!.”

My stomach twisted. Mafia? Marry?

Brayden’s voice was calm, “I don’t take orders. Not from him. Not from anyone.”

the stranger snapped back, “You owe him, Gatsby. Your father promised him that before he died.”

Brayden’s tone was ice. “My father’s promises died with him. I won’t chain myself to that spoiled girl.”

The man’s voice hardened. “You realize her father holds a major stake in your empire.”

Brayden leaned back, unbothered. “I have businesses spread across the world. I don’t need him.”

The man snapped. “If you refuse to marry her, then you’d better find someone else, someone the mafia can accept. Otherwise, you risk losing everything your father built.”

And with that he turned and left but the words lingered. Mafia. Marriage. Promises. I had been sold to a man with dangerous enemies.

I hadn’t even caught my breath when the door burst open. A tall beautiful woman entered.

“So it’s true,” she spat. “You bought a new toy.”

Brayden appeared behind her. “Get out, Alessia.”

She ignored him. Her eyes raked me over like I was filth. “Pathetic. She’s not even pretty. Just a scared little tramp. This is what you’ve replaced me with?”

Alessia’s laugh was sharp, brittle. “I should’ve known. You were always a freak, Brayden. Always chasing control because deep down, you’re still that broken little boy. And now you need slaves to feed your weird fetish and fantasies?”

Brayden’s voice was calm, but lethal. “Alessia You have no right to be here.”

“On the contrary,” she purred, “I have every right. My father still expects you to marry me, Brayden. We were meant to be.”

Brayden’s reply was tight. “Get out, Alessia.”

She flinched. Then her eyes cut back to me with pure venom. “Good luck, little slave girl. You’re just another hole for him to fuck. He’ll destroy you just like he destroyed me.”

And then she was gone.

The silence that followed was worse than her words.

Brayden stood there, watching me.

“She doesn’t matter,” he said flatly.

But she did. I saw it in the tightness of his jaw, the flicker in his eyes. Whoever she was, she’d cut him once, deep.

Before I could form a reply, he spoke. “Come.”

He put the leash on me and led me out of the playroom and out of the mansion.

We turned into a grand hallway lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. My legs trembled, sore from the night before. I stumbled.

Pain shot up my knees as I fell to the ground.

“Careful there,” a man’s voice said. Warm. Kind.

I looked up. It was one of the staff, broad-shouldered, dark hair, a simple shirt rolled at the sleeves, offering his hand.

I took it before I could think. He pulled me up with steady strength.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

The man’s eyes softened. He gave me a small nod.

And then the leash snapped hard. My body jerked back, colliding with Brayden’s chest.

“She doesn’t need your help,” Brayden said, voice low and lethal.

The man’s jaw tightened, but he dipped his head respectfully and stepped back.

Brayden bent low, his lips brushing my ear. “Rule number one, Zoe. You don’t speak unless spoken to. And you never thank another man for touching what belongs to me.”

“Yes, Mr. Gatsby,” I whispered.

“You broke a rule” He said leading me back into the mansion. To his playroom.

Brayden shoved me inside, the heavy door slamming shut behind us.

“On your knees,” he ordered.

My knees hit the cold floor. His hand tangled in my hair, pushing my head back so I was forced to stare into his dark eyes.

“You broke my rule. Twice.” His voice was low, dangerous. “You spoke when you weren’t spoken to.” His thumb brushed across my lower lip “And you dared to thank another man for touching you.”

“I…I didn’t mean..”

“Silence.” The word cracked like a whip.

He released me only to pull a black velvet blindfold from the drawer beside the wall. He tied it around my eyes, plunging me into darkness.

My breath hitched. Every sound was louder. Every brush of his hand made me flinch.

“Spread your knees,” he commanded.

I obeyed, trembling.

“Do you know what happens when you break my rules, Zoe?” His voice was smooth, mocking.

My lips trembled. “…No, Mr. Gatsby.”

“You suffer.”

The first crack of the whip landed across my ass. Fire exploded through my body. I cried out, jerking against the restraints.

“Count,” he ordered.

“One!” I gasped.

The next strike came harder.

“Two!”

Again and again until my voice broke, the leather searing me, branding me with his discipline. My body shook, tears spilling hot beneath the blindfold.

By the tenth strike I was sobbing, pleading. “Please… please, no more…”

But instead of mercy, I felt his hand between my thighs, pressing into my soaked heat.

“You’re dripping,” he murmured against my ear.

I shook my head desperately. “No Sir…”

He pushed two fingers inside me. My hips bucked against him.

“That’s it,” he growled, curling his fingers deep. “Cry and beg all you want, little slave. Your cunt belongs to me.”

The rhythm built until I was clawing the floor, torn between pain and unbearable pleasure. My orgasm ripped through me violently, leaving me slumped and shaking.

Brayden removed the blindfold, forcing me to look at him. His expression was unreadable, a mix of satisfaction and something darker.

“Why me?” My voice cracked. “Why did you buy me?”

“Because you were mine the moment I saw you,” he murmured. “And I don’t let what’s mine slip away.”