---
Zara's skin was still flushed, her breathing shaky, as she slipped out of the forbidden room.
The hallway felt colder now. Quieter. Like the house itself had witnessed her unraveling.
She closed the door behind her slowly, heart pounding against her ribs like a drum of shame and something else—something darker.
What had she just done?
Why did it feel so wrong… and so unbelievably right?
---
📍 Elsewhere, in his office...
Aiden hadn't moved from his chair in twenty minutes.
The screen in front of him still glowed, replaying her every move.
She had touched the leather cuffs like she knew what they could do.
She had lain on the bed like she belonged in it.
And when her fingers dipped between her thighs, whispering "Daddy"…
he had gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white.
So she liked being watched?
Perfect.
She was going to be watched a lot more from now on.
---
📍 Later that evening…
Zara padded softly into the dining room, wearing silk pajamas and the kind of nerves that came from being caught.
Aiden sat at the head of the table, black shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms. Casual, effortless, dangerous.
He didn't look up immediately.
Just sipped from his glass like he hadn't watched her fall apart hours earlier.
"You slept well?" he asked, finally.
She hesitated. "I wasn't sleeping."
"Oh, I know."
Her eyes snapped to his.
And the way he looked at her — like he owned every secret in her soul — made her legs tremble.
"You—" she started.
He stood.
Slow.
Predatory.
Zara took a step back.
"I gave you one rule," he said, voice like smoke. "Just one."
She lifted her chin, trying to explain. "The door… it was open. I called the maids, no one answered. I didn't mean—"
"But you did enter," he cut her off, voice cool and measured. "And you didn't just enter. You explored. You touched."
She turned away, face burning. "I was curious."
"And you touched yourself in my bed."
Zara gasped. "You had a camera?"
His smirk was pure sin. "Of course I did."
She covered her mouth, humiliation crashing into her like a wave.
He stepped closer, his fingers brushing under her chin, tilting her face up to his.
"No hiding," he said. "Look at me."
She did.
"You liked it. The cuffs. The leather. The control. You liked imagining me using them on you."
Zara swallowed hard.
"I—I…"
"You liked calling me Daddy, too."
She blinked, horrified. "I didn't mean to—"
"But you did," he whispered.
Then, lower, darker, right against her lips:
"Because you like being owned."
Her knees nearly gave out.
He stepped back and pulled a small, black box from his pocket.
When he opened it, she saw two things:
A soft black velvet collar with a slim gold ring
A sleek, silent remote-controlled vibrator
Her stomach dropped. Her thighs clenched.
"What... is this?"
"This," he said, lifting the collar, "is to remind you who you belong to."
He stepped forward and placed it gently around her neck, fastening it behind with practiced ease. It wasn't tight—just snug enough to feel present. Intimate. Owned.
"And this," he held up the second object, "is what I'll use when you forget."
The vibrator buzzed softly in his hand.
Zara froze.
Her breath came out in short, shallow gasps.
"You'll wear it when I say," he murmured. "In meetings. At dinner. Around others."
"Aiden—"
"Quiet," he warned softly, pressing his thumb to the remote.
A soft hum buzzed in the air, and just like that—her knees threatened to give out.
"I'll make you cum without ever touching you, Zara. And you won't make a sound. Because if you do…"
He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear.
"…I'll make it worse."
---
> "You broke the rule. Now you belong to it." — Aiden Knight
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