The Sentence
The marks at her throat had faded to shadows, but she still felt them. Phantom heat pulsing beneath her skin, memory branded deeper than flesh.
She dressed for the briefing in a jacket fitted as armor, a tailored gray dress that
hugged her body close. Black hair pulled back, waves framing her face. Each step of her heels rang sharp, steady; hiding the tremor inside.
To anyone else, she was control made flesh.
Inside, she was unraveling. The toy. The wall. His voice. Every detail lived in her skin.
Julian sat across the table, perfect as always. Both cuffs fastened. Gray eyes calm, unreadable. He never looked straight at her, yet every time her hand drifted toward her throat, his gaze caught it, held it still. A tether without touch.
She got through the briefing, words sharp, points exact. But her pulse betrayed her. The bite throbbed, each breath reminding her what he had taken. What he left behind.
The room emptied. Laughter and voices faded. She lingered in the corridor, back against the wall, willing her heart to slow.
Her phone buzzed. Ethan.
Where are you tonight? Can we talk?
Her chest tightened. She typed fast.
I'll be home late. Don't wait up.
Blue. Sent. Too late.
His shadow covered her before she could slip the phone away. He plucked it from her hand, read, and slid it into his pocket like it had never been hers.
"Color?" His voice was calm. Merciless.
Her throat closed, but the word came, "Green."
"Good." His hand brushed the back of her neck, firm, claiming. "Then you'll take what's coming."
The Spanking
The suite door closed with a hush that felt like judgment.
"Shoes. Jacket."
She obeyed, breath sharp.
"Here." He sat in the armchair, the city fractured in the glass behind him. "Across my lap."
Her knees shook. She bent, body draped across his thighs, palms to carpet. He tugged her dress high, tied her wrists with the ribbon from her hair, and bared her completely. Exposed. Waiting.
"Count."
The first strike landed. Heat bloomed.
"One."
The rhythm grew steady. Hard. Merciless. Her voice cracked by the fifth, hips moving against his thigh in shameful need.
He stopped. Fingers slid between her thighs; wet, desperate.
"You disobeyed." A strike. "You lied to him." Another. "And you thought I wouldn't know."
Her voice broke. "I'm sorry, Sir."
"Sorry doesn't erase lies." His hand fell harder. "Your body remembers what your mouth forgets."
The Edge
He pulled her upright, wrists still bound. Her chest heaved, face flushed, eyes wet with tears and want.
"You'll learn."
He lifted her. Instinct wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to the bed, set her on the edge. Her ass perched on the mattress lip, thighs falling open. Her wrists pinned to her chest, helpless.
Julian knelt.
Her breath caught. A man like him kneeling should have looked like surrender. It didn't. His control sharpened, eyes daring her to mistake it for devotion.
He shoved her skirt higher, dragged the top of her dress down, exposing her breasts. His mouth claimed one instantly, tongue circling until her nipple peaked hard against the drag of his teeth. He bit once, enough to sting, then soothed with his tongue before moving lower.
He kissed down her stomach, leaving heat and stubble-burn in his wake, until
until his shoulders pushed her thighs wide.
Then his mouth was on her.
Her cry ripped raw. His tongue plunged deep, his grip locked her open, wrists straining uselessly as he consumed her.
The first wave rose sharp, fast. Just as she broke, he slowed. Pulled away. Denied.
"Please, Sir," she gasped. "Julian."
No answer. He resumed. Then stopped again. And again. Her body shook, drenched, desperate. He was watching her suffer and he loved it. That truth split her wide open.
"Please…I need it, please, I can't…"
His gray eyes lifted, unyielding. "You'll come when I decide. Not before."
Then his mouth claimed her again. Hard. Relentless. No mercy. The pressure built until it snapped, impossible to hold back. This time he didn't stop. His tongue relentless, until the tension inside her detonated.
Her orgasm tore through her, violent, silencing. Her body convulsed, thighs shaking, sob caught in her throat. He held her there, licking every tremor until her body collapsed against the bed.
He kissed the inside of her thighs, then looked up. His mouth glistened, his eyes locked on hers, and his voice came quiet but absolute.
"This is what terms mean. Your body is mine to punish. Mine to ruin. Mine to worship, when I allow it."
The Warning
Her pulse thundered against silk. She nodded, undone. Certain.
He untied her wrists, thumb stroking the marks as though sealing them in place. Then he drew her into his chest, breath hot against her ear.
His teeth sank into her shoulder. Hard. Claiming. His groan rumbled low; more need than cruelty. Almost raw.
"You know where you belong now," he murmured.
His arm tightened. Possessive.
"Good girl."