Page 84 of Shadow Waltz

“You're safe with me,” I said quietly, thumb stroking along his pulse point. “Even when I'm demanding everything from you, you're safe. Do you believe that?”

He swallowed, and I watched something shift in his expression—the defiance softening into something more vulnerable, more trusting.

Slowly, deliberately, my fingers traced the edge of the collar, a gentle touch that somehow carried more weight than any force could have. His breathing turned shallow, and I could see the moment he stopped fighting what he wanted.

“Show me,” I said, stepping back to give him space. “Show me that you trust me enough to be completely vulnerable.”

For a moment, I thought he might refuse. Then Ash's hands moved to the buttons of his shirt. He peeled the fabric away from his body, revealing pale skin marked by old scars and the careful vulnerability of someone choosing to be seen.

He paused, fingers hovering at his belt, eyes meeting mine with a question I could read clearly.

“All of it,” I confirmed, my voice gentle but unwavering. “I want to see all of you.”

He unbuckled his belt, the metallic sound somehow intimate in the quiet. The slacks slid down his hips, pooling at his ankles, leaving him in black briefs that couldn't hide his body's honest response to the situation.

“Beautiful,” I murmured, the word carrying genuine appreciation rather than mere possession. “Perfect.”

The echo of my praise lingered, and I could see how it affected him—the way his shoulders relaxed slightly, the flush that colored his cheeks with something closer to pleasure than shame.

I moved closer again, close enough that he could feel my presence without me touching him. “The rest,” I said softly. “Give me everything.”

Ash's hands trembled slightly as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, sliding them down with the same careful deliberation he'd shown with everything else. When he straightened, completely bare except for the collar at his throat, I felt something shift in the air between us.

“Good,” I murmured, letting my gaze travel over him slowly, appreciatively. “Now I want you to understand something, Ash. Trust isn't just between two people. In my world, it extends to those I choose to include.”

I could see the question forming in his eyes, the slight tension that returned to his shoulders as he processed what I might mean.

“You said you trust me,” I continued, circling him slowly, letting him feel observed, assessed. “But trust in my world means accepting that I know what's best for you, even when you don't understand it yet.”

His breathing quickened, not with fear exactly, but with the recognition that this test was about to expand beyond what he'd anticipated.

“Troy,” I said, not turning. “Come here.”

The bodyguard stepped forward, closing the door quietly behind him. His suit did nothing to hide the bulge pressing against his zipper—he was aroused, his eyes hungry and hooded as he drank in the scene. He’d never admit it, but I’d always known what kind of man he was under that stoic mask.

“Help me,” I ordered, voice ice and steel.

Troy hesitated for a heartbeat, but his desire was stronger than any lingering conscience. He knelt beside Ash, pulling rough leather cuffs and cold steel chains from a drawer by the bed. Ash tried to jerk away, but Troy caught his wrists, pinning him easily.

“Be still,” Troy growled, low and rough, his own voice thick with need.

Troy fastened Ash’s wrists behind his back, the cuffs biting into delicate skin. Chains looped up and over, attached to a ceiling anchor—one hard yank and Ash was pulled upright, forced to kneel with his arms wrenched behind him, chest pushed out, cock bobbing helplessly in the open.

I stepped in close, letting my hand trail down Ash’s flushed cheek, across his throat, then lower still, teasing the collar. “You see, Ash? This is what it means to be owned. Not just by me. By anyone I choose.”

Ash’s eyes were glassy with humiliation, tears slipping down, but his cock was harder than ever, the head flushed, dripping precum down his thigh. Troy’s hands lingered on Ash’s hips, rough fingers digging in possessively. His own cock strained his pants, and I saw the indecent hunger in his eyes as he looked at what he’d helped create.

“Troy,” I said, letting power curl through my words, “undo your pants. Show him what happens when you’re good.”

Troy didn’t hesitate. He opened his slacks, his cock springing free—thick and heavy, already leaking. He stroked himself slowly, gaze flickering between me and Ash, the atmosphere thick with shared arousal and dominance.

I knelt in front of Ash, spreading his knees wider with my boot. “Look at you,” I murmured, running my hand up his thigh, stopping just short of his cock. “So desperate. So fucking beautiful when you break.”

He whimpered, head falling back, his whole body trembling. I curled my fingers around the base of his cock, squeezing, milking another drop of precum. He jerked in the chains, hips rocking forward as far as the restraints would allow.

“Please—” he managed, voice breaking.

“Please what?” I demanded, squeezing tighter, my thumb rubbing slow circles over the leaking tip. “Please stop? Please let you come? Please let Troy touch you?”