CHAPTER 4: THE OWNERSHIP CONTRACT

(POV: BRIANNA)

The man pulled his fingers out of my mouth slowly. A thin string of saliva connected my lips to his fingertips in the dimness of that dark room. Booth seven felt like a studio entirely isolated from the rest of the world. The crimson illumination cast massive shadows across the velvet walls. I could barely make out his features. He wore a heavy black mask that covered almost his entire face. However, as he moved, the light caught his perfectly aligned, stark white teeth—a dangerous contrast to the darkness enveloping him.

He wiped the moisture from his fingers onto my chin, then delivered a faint slap to my cheek. The soft crack against my skin made me catch my breath. Right after, he gripped my blonde hair from behind with brute force. The firm yank forced my head back, completely exposing my neck.

The man buried his face into the curve of my neck. He took a deep, dragging breath, pressing the muscles of his broad chest tight against my shoulder.

"I love your scent, little bird... You smell like wild berries," he whispered close to my ear. His deep, raspy voice sent a violent shiver through every single inch of my skin. Then, he dragged his warm, wet tongue all the way up my neck.

My entire body shuddered instantly. A heavy, throbbing, completely unknown pressure coiled deep in my core. A cold sweat broke out over my skin beneath the leather corset. I had never felt aroused in my entire life. This intense, foreign sensation terrified me to my bones. The fear of the unknown bled into the raw pleasure that was beginning to burn through my veins.

Without a single warning, his large, heavy hand slid down my chest. He gripped one of my breasts with a punishing squeeze.

"Fuck, what a delicious breast... It doesn't even fit in my hand," he growled, his voice thick with brutal lust. With a swift, agile tug, he yanked the fabric of my corset down. My heavy breast spilled free, completely exposed to the cold air of the booth.

I squeezed my eyes shut, dying of sheer embarrassment. The dizzying speed at which everything was happening left my head spinning. I felt his fingers brush crudely over my nipple. Immediately after, the man leaned his heavy frame over the chaise. He bit my nipple, hard. The sudden spike of pain forced a sharp cry from my throat.

"See that? That isn't pain, little bird. That is pleasure," he said. He ran his hand over my face again, caressing my cheek to soothe the sting of the bite.

His hand continued its descent down my trembling body. He grabbed my waist, burying his fingers firmly into my flesh.

"I like a woman built like this, with real curves for me to hold onto," he murmured, evaluating the weight of my voluptuous body with obvious satisfaction.

His hand kept sliding. It traveled down my belly, stroked over my thighs, all the way to the tips of my toes, before slowly tracing its way back up the inside of my legs. He stopped his hand right at the apex of my thighs, pressing his fingers firmly against the thin fabric of my panties. I gasped loudly, tossing my head back against the leather of the chaise.

"Mm... You're completely soaked. So you are enjoying this," he stated, looming over me with his dark, unreadable eyes. "I asked you a question, good girl. Are you enjoying this?"

Panic and shame consumed me for reacting in such an obscene manner. But I knew exactly what was at stake. I needed that money. I needed to obey the most powerful man in the club.

"Yes... Yes, sir... Yes, Sir," I answered desperately, sweat trickling down my temple.

The man withdrew his hand from inside my lingerie. He brought his fingers up to his own mouth, slowly dragging his tongue over them, tasting my intimacy right before my eyes. Then, he slammed his lips against mine in a swift, punishing motion, invading my mouth possessively with his tongue.

"That's your taste. You are delicious," he praised as he broke the kiss.

"Thank you, sir..." I murmured. I was utterly confused as to whether I should thank him for that, but I fought to remain obedient. Gathering the last remnants of my courage, I asked, "Do you... do you have a name?"

"I have a name, but it's not one you need to know," he shot back coldly, his voice cutting like a blade. "I'm going to have a contract drawn up for you. We will meet once a week, either here or at another location of my choosing. I will train you first, until you are ready for me to take your virginity."

My heart leaped into my throat. An exclusivity contract.

"And can I... can I have a relationship outside of this place?" I asked, terrified of being trapped forever.

The look in his eyes turned dangerously dark behind the mask. The man lunged forward lightning-fast. He wrapped a single hand around my throat, squeezing tightly. The grip cut off my air for a full, terrifying second.

"No," he growled against my face. "You are mine until I grow tired of you. Until I get bored. You are my plaything. My private little slut. Repeat what you are to me."

Tears finally spilled over, cascading down the side of my face.

"I... I am a little slut. I am your plaything... I am yours, Sir," I confessed in a defeated whisper, completely broken by the pleasure, the fear, and the desperate need to save my brother.

"Good," he said, loosening the grip on my throat immediately.

He pressed a brief, hard kiss to my lips, straightened his perfectly tailored suit jacket, and walked toward the heavy wooden door.

"Stop by the front desk to pick up your advance and sign the contract. Tell them you were in booth seven with ARES. It was a pleasure meeting you, little bird."

The door swung open and shut in the blink of an eye. He left me entirely alone, lying on my back on the chaise. My heart hammered uncontrollably. I felt completely lightheaded. My entire body trembled, on the verge of collapsing to the floor at any second.