The jet landed just past midnight.
Celeste had slept for maybe an hour, bound and blindfolded in Damian’s private cabin. She was gagged the entire flight, a plug lodged between her thighs, her hands cuffed behind her back. He hadn’t touched her once. Not even a whisper of praise. He had simply stroked her hair occasionally, as if she were a pet in a cage awaiting transport.
Now they stood on foreign soil—she didn’t know where. All she knew was that the air smelled of ocean and leather. And that her knees were already sore.
Damian tugged her leash as they descended the runway steps.
“You’re not here to be bought,” he said without turning. “You’re here to be shared.”
Her breath caught.
“Shared, Sir?”
He stopped. Turned.
His eyes pinned her in place.
“Tonight, you’ll please whoever I
