---
Zara didn't remember falling asleep.
But she remembered how she woke up.
Not fully. Not clearly.
It was a haze — warm skin, slow breath, the sensation of being… touched.
She stirred once, halfway between dreams and something heavier.
There was pressure. Heat.
Fingers easing her thighs apart.
Something cool sliding inside her.
Her body responded like it knew him.
Her lips parted.
> "Mine," a voice whispered.
It could've been a dream.
But when she blinked awake in the morning, her body felt different.
Too full.
Too sensitive.
Too aware.
She sat up slowly.
A faint buzz danced between her legs.
Not loud. But present.
She reached down, under her silk slip…
Her heart stuttered.
Something was inside her.
Smooth. Small. Vibrating.
Her lips parted in a silent gasp.
She didn't put it there.
She didn't even know it was possible to feel this… overwhelmed by a secret.
On the nightstand, a single note:
> "Come downstairs. Wear nothing beneath the dress. Sit when you're told. Speak only when asked."
No signature.
But she didn't need one.
---
The dining room was dim.
Two candles lit the long table.
Wine breathed in crystal glasses.
Aiden sat at the far end — dark shirt, no tie, sleeves rolled, like he'd just returned from orchestrating someone's downfall.
Zara walked in slowly.
Her silk dress clung to her bare skin.
No bra. No panties.
Her thighs brushed — and the vibration sparked again.
She bit her lip.
He didn't move.
He just looked at her.
Every step she took toward him felt like surrender.
He gestured to the seat beside him.
She sat.
The vibrator pulsed — just once.
Her breath hitched.
His lips curved.
> "You're wondering when I did it."
She looked at him, startled.
He picked up his wineglass casually.
> "While you slept," he said softly. "Your body was so obedient. Even in rest."
She stared at him.
> "You—"
> "I prepped you, Zara. Because you touched what's mine… without permission."
He placed a remote on the table.
Her eyes locked onto it.
> "Every time you move…"
"You'll remember who owns you."
She tried to steady her breath.
Tried to ignore the heat blooming low in her belly.
---
Dinner was served.
She ate in silence.
The vibrator hummed every few minutes — short pulses that made her legs twitch and her chest tighten.
He didn't touch her.
Didn't speak.
He just watched.
And that was worse.
Worse than being punished.
Worse than being spanked.
Because the silence felt like pressure.
Like the storm before something devastating.
---
Finally, he spoke.
> "You're getting wet."
She choked slightly, fork frozen midair.
He took another sip of wine.
> "I can smell it. You're soaking the seat, aren't you?"
Her cheeks burned.
She dropped her gaze.
> "Answer me."
"Y—yes, sir."
The remote buzzed again. Longer. Deeper.
She gasped and clenched her thighs.
His voice was lazy. Deadly.
> "Poor little pet. So desperate. So obedient. But you haven't earned anything yet."
He stood. Walked behind her.
She froze, heart hammering.
> "You like being owned," he murmured at her ear.
> "That's why you disobeyed. To get my attention."
She shivered.
He reached down and tightened the collar around her neck.
Not enough to hurt.
Just enough to remind.
> "I'm not going to take you tonight."
Her heart sank — then soared with confusion.
> "You don't get pleasure," he said, his hand brushing her throat.
"You get instruction."
He moved to the table.
Slid the remote toward her.
> "You want the buzzing to stop? Turn it off."
She reached for it.
> "No hands."
She hesitated.
Then lowered her head.
> Bit the button with her teeth.
The vibrations stopped.
Her body throbbed in silence.
> "Now crawl to me."
She dropped to her hands and knees.
Crawled across the floor, silk slipping over her curves.
> "Good girl," he whispered.
He leaned down, brushing her lips with his thumb.
> "Next time, you'll beg to come."
---