The restraints are gone. At some point during the last round—or maybe the one before that, I lost count—Suha must have removed the shackles. My wrists and ankles are free, though I can feel the sting of broken skin where the metal bit into me. There are probably bruises forming, deep purple rings that willlast for days. Evidence of how hard I fought against them while he fucked me into incoherence.
I’m vaguely aware of movement beside the bed. The rustle of fabric, the soft click of a belt buckle. Suha is getting dressed. I can see him in my peripheral vision, pulling on his boxers and pants with the same unhurried grace he does everything. Like he didn’t just spend the last several hours fucking me until I couldn’t remember my own name.
My eyelids are heavy. I let them drift closed, too exhausted to keep them open. I can sense his satisfaction, his possessiveness, the predatory contentment of an alpha.
The thought should probably scare me. Should make me panic, try to run, do something. But I’m too wrung out to care. Too sated and boneless and completely destroyed in the best possible way.
I hear footsteps. Multiple sets, not just Suha’s. The door must have opened while I was zoned out because suddenly there are hands on me, rough and impersonal. My eyes snap open and I try to jerk away on instinct, but my body doesn’t cooperate. I manage a weak twitch before the hands grab my wrists and yank them behind my back.
Metal clicks around them. Cuffs, not the shackles from before but something smaller, tighter. The guards secure them quickly, pulling my arms back until my shoulders protest. I make a noise that might be a question or might just be confusion, my brain still too scrambled to form actual words.
Then leather against my throat, thick and heavy. I feel it wrap around my neck, feel the buckle being fastened at the back. It’s snug enough that I’m aware of it with every breath, not choking but definitely there. A collar. They just put a fucking collar on me.
My heart, which had been slowing down from its post-orgasm haze, kicks back into high gear. Adrenaline tries to flood mysystem but my body is too exhausted to do anything with it. I manage to lift my head this time, blinking through the fog in my brain to look up at Suha.
He’s buttoning his shirt, looking completely put together despite what we just did. His hair is slightly mussed, the only sign that he’s been doing anything other than sitting in a business meeting. He catches my gaze and something shifts in his expression. That blank mask cracks just enough to let through a smile that makes my stomach drop.
It’s not a nice smile. It’s sharp and wicked and full of dark amusement.
“What—” My voice comes out as a croak, barely audible. I swallow and try again. “What are you doing?”
Suha finishes with his shirt and reaches for his jacket. He shrugs into it, smoothing down the lapels. Then he steps closer to the bed, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to keep looking at him.
His hand shoots out and grabs my jaw. Not gently. His fingers dig into my skin, forcing my head higher, making the collar press against my throat. I can feel the metal ring at the front of it, heavy and cold.
“You wanted to be owned so badly,” he says. His voice is calm. “So now you are.”
My stomach does this complicated flip that’s only half fear. “I didn’t—”
“We’re bonded now, pet.” He cuts me off, his grip on my jaw tightening. His other hand comes up and hooks a finger through the ring on the collar, tugging it slightly. The leather pulls against my throat and I gasp. “Which means you’re not going anywhere.”
The word ‘pet’ hits me like ice water. Pet. Like I’m something he owns, something he keeps.
“You wanted a dominant alpha to claim you?” Suha continues. He leans down, bringing his face closer to mine. His pheromones wash over me, thick and overwhelming, reinforcing the bond between us. “Congratulations. You’re mine now.”
The full implications sink in slowly. He’s not going to let me go. Ever. The collar around my throat, the cuffs on my wrists—they’re not temporary restraints. They’re permanent fixtures.
I’m not a prisoner. I’m property.
Idiscover quickly that Suha meant every word.
The cage is the first sign that this isn’t some kinky roleplay he’ll get bored of in a few days. It’s an actual fucking cage, positioned right beside his massive bed like I’m a pet he wants to keep close. Large enough that I can lie down and stretch out, but the bars are thick steel and the lock is serious business. The first night he shoves me inside, still naked and aching from being thoroughly fucked, I thought maybe he was just making a point. Establishing dominance or whatever.
But then he does it again the next night. And the night after that.
Mornings follow a pattern. Suha wakes up, opens the cage, and pulls me out by my collar. Sometimes he fucks me right there on the floor beside the bed, my face pressed into the expensive carpet while he takes me from behind. Other times he drags me into the shower and pins me against the tile, the hot water streaming over us as he claims me again, his teeth findingnew places to mark. He’s possessive in a way that borders on territorial, like he needs to reassert ownership every few hours or he’ll forget I belong to him.
Then his guards arrive—always the same two, a hulking guy named Haesung and a quieter one called Seokjin—and they bind my wrists behind my back with leather cuffs. They clip a leash to my collar, and Suha leads me downstairs like I’m a dog being taken for a walk. Except instead of a park, we’re going to his home office.
The office is obscenely luxurious, decorated with dark wood and leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. His desk is massive, made of some kind of imported hardwood. And behind that desk, hidden from view of anyone who enters the room, is where I spend most of my days.
Sitting at his feet. Naked. Collared and leashed like property.
At first, I think maybe this is temporary, that he’ll get whatever power trip he needs out of this arrangement and let me go. But days pass, and the routine doesn’t change. He conducts business like I’m not even there, taking phone calls and meeting with his lieutenants while I kneel beside his chair. Sometimes his hand drops to tangle in my hair, petting me absently while he discusses shipment schedules or territory disputes. Other times his fingers wrap around the back of my neck, squeezing just hard enough to remind me who’s in control.
The meetings are surreal. I can hear everything—detailed discussions about drug routes, weapons deals, which politicians are on the payroll, which rivals need to be eliminated. Information that could probably get me killed just for knowing it. But Suha doesn’t seem concerned about that. Maybe because he knows I’m not going anywhere. Or maybe because he figures if I try to run, he’ll just hunt me down again.
When he feels like it, he makes me service him. Right there at his desk, while he’s working. He’ll spread his legs and tap myshoulder, and I know what he wants. I crawl between his thighs and take his cock in my mouth, sucking him while he reviews documents or types emails like nothing unusual is happening. Sometimes he’s on the phone, his voice perfectly steady as he discusses quarterly earnings or expansion plans, his hand fisted in my hair to control the pace.
