Todos os capítulos de Kane's Obsession: Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

The new titanium collar felt different. It was lighter than the thick leather one I wore inside the penthouse, but somehow heavier in meaning. It sat elegantly against my throat. sleek, expensive, and impossible to ignore if anyone looked closely. A discreet silver ring rested at the hollow of my neck, catching the light whenever I moved. Aiden made sure I wore it every time we left the penthouse now. Two days after our rooftop dinner, he took me to a private art gallery opening. The kind of event where the city’s elite mingled, drank thousand-dollar champagne, and pretended they weren’t all sharks circling each other. I stood beside him in a tailored black shirt that hid most of my marks but did nothing to conceal the titanium band around my throat. Men and women glanced at us. Some stared openly. Aiden kept one hand possessively on the small of my back the entire evening, his thumb occasionally brushing the top of the collar. Every time someone approached to speak with him, he

The titanium collar was no longer just jewelry. It had become a symbol, the one that Aiden made sure the world noticed. Over the next week, he took me out almost every evening. Private dinners, exclusive events, even a quiet night at an upscale bar where powerful men conducted business. Each time, he dressed me carefully so the sleek band around my throat was clearly visible. He touched it constantly in front of others with a casual brush of his fingers, a possessive grip, sometimes even hooking a finger through the small silver ring while speaking to acquaintances. I stopped fighting the humiliation. Instead, I started craving for it more and more. Tonight we were at a private cigar lounge attached to one of the city’s most exclusive clubs. Dim lighting, rich leather furniture, and the low murmur of powerful men discussing money and influence. Aiden sat in a large armchair like he owned the place. I sat at his feet on a cushioned stool, my head resting against his thigh, the ti

The email from my mentor arrived on a grey Wednesday morning, and with it, the first real fracture in the perfect fantasy I had been living in for nearly a month. I was kneeling in the living room, still impaled on Aiden’s thick cock after our brutal morning breeding session. My chest pressed against his, the titanium collar snug around my throat, and the heavy steel plug he’d shoved in afterward kept me obscenely full. His cum squelched deep inside me with every tiny shift of my hips. I rested against his broad chest, panting, my caged cock dripping uselessly between my spread thighs. Aiden’s large hand held his phone while the other stroked possessively down my back until it rested on my slightly swollen belly. “Marcus says there’s a luxury watch brand campaign next month,” he read aloud, his voice calm but carrying an edge I couldn’t quite read. “Three-day shoot in the countryside. High budget. He thinks it could be a real breakthrough for your career if you take it.” My heart

The email was sent. I stared at the confirmation screen for a long time, the cursor blinking mockingly like a heartbeat I could no longer control. The luxury watch campaign, the one that could have been my breakthrough was officially gone and Declined. Because I had chosen this. Aiden stood behind me, his large, warm hands resting heavily on my bare shoulders. The heat of his palms seeped into my skin, a stark contrast to the cool, unyielding titanium collar locked around my throat. He squeezed gently, then slid one hand down to trace the band possessively, his thumb brushing over the silver ring at the front. “You did the right thing,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, sending shivers racing down my spine. The scent of his skin, clean sweat mixed with his expensive, woody cologne filled my nose as he pressed closer. I could still taste him on my tongue from earlier that morning: salty, musky, addictive. “This is where you belong now, boy.” I nodded weakly, but inside, g

The silence in my inbox had become louder than any rejection email ever could. It had been ten days since I turned down the luxury watch campaign. Ten days since I watched my professional life begin its final, irreversible collapse. Clients who once chased me for bookings now sent polite but final messages. My mentor’s last email sat unread for three days. Even the small, steady gigs that used to keep me afloat had dried up completely. I sat in the studio again, naked except for the titanium collar locked around my throat and the ever-present steel cage trapping my aching cock. The thick plug Aiden had inserted after our morning breeding session pressed heavily against my prostate with every small shift in the leather chair. The seat beneath me was slick and warm with a filthy mixture of my constant precum and the cum that inevitably leaked out despite the plug. The air carried the familiar, heavy scent of sex that now clung to every corner of the penthouse: musky cum, dried sweat,