---
Zara stood in front of the mirror the next morning, fingers brushing over the black velvet collar circling her neck.
It didn't choke.
It didn't hurt.
It just sat there — soft, elegant… and loud.
Too loud.
Every time she looked at it, she remembered the rules.
The room.
The camera.
The way her name had never left his mouth — but "Daddy" had.
And now… this.
He hadn't touched her last night. Not even a kiss.
He didn't need to.
He'd marked her in a different way.
---
The door creaked open.
A maid entered with clothes — a silk black dress, laced up the back, short enough to tease but long enough to remain respectable.
On the tray next to it?
The small device.
The one with the vibrator he'd promised to use when she disobeyed.
Except she hadn't disobeyed.
Not yet.
There was a card, folded once, laid neatly beside it. She picked it up.
> "You'll wear both today. Keep your legs closed. And your mouth shut. Let's see how long you last. — A."
Zara nearly dropped it.
---
📍 Downstairs…
Aiden was already waiting at the car, dressed in a sharp suit, talking into his earpiece.
She stepped outside, heart pounding, collar hidden beneath her hair, the toy already tucked inside her — as he'd instructed.
He didn't say a word as she entered the car. Just one glance.
And a smirk.
Zara swallowed hard.
The car pulled away.
They were going to a business meeting. She was to sit quietly, listen, observe — say nothing.
Those were his instructions.
And then—
BZZZZZT.
The sudden vibration between her legs made her jump.
Not strong.
Just enough to be felt.
Just enough to remind her who was in control.
She snapped her head toward him.
He didn't look back.
Didn't smirk.
Didn't even blink.
He was texting someone.
Like he hadn't just violated her composure in the back of a moving vehicle.
Her thighs pressed together.
Her hands clutched her purse tight.
BZZZZZT.
Again.
This time longer.
Deeper.
She let out a breath — too loud.
"Zara," he said coolly, still looking at his phone. "What did I say about staying quiet?"
Her eyes burned. "I—sorry."
"Don't apologize."
He looked at her now, slow and deliberate.
"Behave."
---
📍 Inside the meeting…
Zara sat beside him, legs crossed tightly, pretending to be unbothered.
It was impossible.
Every few minutes —
BZZZ.
A flutter. A pulse. A jolt.
Aiden never looked at her.
Never spoke.
Just continued with his meeting like he wasn't playing God beneath the table.
She bit her lip. Her body trembled.
And then—
A soft moan escaped before she could stop it.
Everyone turned.
Zara's heart slammed into her ribs.
Eyes were on her.
Aiden stood slowly, graceful as ever.
"Apologies," he said smoothly, placing a hand on Zara's shoulder. "My fiancée isn't feeling well. I'll have her escorted home."
She couldn't breathe.
Not from embarrassment.
But from how wet she was.
---
📍 In the car again…
Zara didn't speak.
She stared out the window, silent, humiliated, aching.
The remote was still in his hand.
He pressed it once more — softly, barely noticeable.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered.
He leaned in, voice low, dark, possessive.
"Because I own you now, Zara."
He touched the collar.
"You wear my rules."
He traced her thigh, stopping just before the hem of her dress.
"You break them… and I own your pleasure too."
She shivered, biting her bottom lip.
He smirked.
"You liked it," he said.
She said nothing.
He leaned in again.
> "You like being owned."
Zara swallowed hard, her breath shaky.
Then—
He leaned closer, voice a breath against her lips.
> "You don't get to cum until you learn how to beg without making a sound."
Zara gasped.
Her thighs clenched on instinct, her lips parted.
And then his voice dropped lower:
> "You'll get another chance," he murmured. "But next time... the consequences will be harder."
Her stomach fluttered.
No part of her knew what those consequences might be.
But every part of her was already begging to find out.
---
> "You don't get to decide when you fall apart. I do." — Aiden Knight
---