Chapter 2: Owned
The next evening I did not knock.
I used the spare key she slipped under my door that morning in a trembling envelope along with a single word written in shaky handwriting:
Please.
Her apartment smelled like s*x and shame already. Dim lights. Curtains drawn. She was waiting on her knees in the middle of the living room floor, naked, wrists already cuffed behind her back with soft black leather restraints she must have bought today. A thick black collar hugged her throat, a silver ring glinting at the front. Her thighs were spread wide, p***y already swollen and slick, glistening under the low lamp. She had been touching herself. Waiting. Aching.
Her eyes lifted when the door clicked shut behind me. Wide. Hungry. Terrified.
“Mia,” she breathed.
I did not answer.
I
