My Slave My Property Mga Nobela at Kwento

She was mine. My property.

She licked them clean, then kissed me, letting me taste her. As her breathing returned to normal, she said, "What a Master does with a slave, is no more unfaithful than what a slave does for her Master. If she agrees to be your sex slave and you accept her slavery, you're not having sex with Lisa McManus, neighbor and your wife's friend; you're using a slave as she's meant to be used, without limits. The same rules that apply to a slave apply to the Master. I would be greatly offended and hurt if you were to have sex with another free person, just as you would be if I did anything outside the bounds of my slavery. This is not that. If you have a slave, you must use her. That is her function

I grit my teeth and say, "You're mistaken. I will not work in such a place." "It's not something that you're in control of," he informs me. "When we found you in the river, you became my property. And I can do whatever I wish to my property. You will work there and that is the end of it. You're a slave. Slaves don't choose where they work. They obey their masters." "You're not my master," I tell him angrily. Alice is shaking her head at me. I ignore her. I won't stop. I cannot accept these terms. I cannot be a man's slave. "And I'm not a slave."

was written in script. "You will never take this off. I don't like seeing your neck bare. You are my property in every way, is that understood?" "Yes, Master," I whispered. "Yes, what, Slave?" he demanded. "Yes, I am your property. I am owned by you. I belong to you alone, to do with me as you wish, always." I stated while staring into his dark, menacing eyes. He took the collar from the box and put it on me. He locked it in place around my neck with a small lock at the back. It was heavier than it looked and I shivered. He sighed.

I completed that in my mind. “We are slaves.”

If I could stop myself from breathing at this point then I would because I was scared out of my mind. He held my chin and pulled my face up to meet his "When I talk to you Kazia, I want you to answer. When I call you, I want you to reply. I detest being ignored. Do you understand?" "Yes my lord." I replied almost immediately. "No." He inched closer "I am no longer your lord Kazia. You are my slave now, my pet. You are my branded property. I own you now and so you must address me as your Master, do you understand?" He corrected coldly. His facial features had gone from smiling to stone cold in a matter of seconds.

“Are these all your things?” “That is all she has.” Beta Trent said before I could answer. I could feel Lydia's glare burning into my neck, and why was it so hot? Alpha Dale’s head snapped up to meet his beta’s eyes. “That is it? Her twenty-something years of existence are all in there?” “She did not really need much.” Alpha Derrick intervened. “She is a slave. She is not allowed to own any property.”

"If you think you're an individual who has a right to speak, do not forget that before marrying you, I paid fifty fucking millions to purchase you from an auction. So before being my wife, you're my slave and a slave doesn't has any rights." He taunted me, making me remember the bitter reality.

“I will rather die than sleep with you! I don't care if you keep me locked in here forever but I will never consent to this!” He remained unfazed by my rejection. Like it was just a minor inconvenience. “Perhaps you would be more open to reason when I take you back home. You seem to be forgetting you are branded…” The words pierced right through my heart and he stopped talking. My eyes watered as I let out a bitter chuckle. “Right.” I laughed. “How could I possibly forget?” A tear escaped my eyes, running down my cheek. “I am nothing but a slave now. Your property. It doesn't matter where I run to, you will always find me.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. I interact with plenty of people.” His eyes don’t waver. “Don’t play games with me.” “Games? Me?” I give him my most innocent smile. “I’m simply asking for clarity. Surely you don’t expect me to assume which slave you mean.” “Amaya,” he says flatly. I hold his gaze, my smile tilting into something sharper. “And what exactly are they saying?” “That you’ve taken an interest in her.” I let the words hang there for a moment, as if I’m weighing them. Then I shrug. “People say many things. Most of them are of no substance.”