Knight tied the silk tie into a soft knot around her arms. When he finished, he looked down to find her wide green eyes staring up at him—arousal swimming in them, but also something else. Fear.
He leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth, soft but commanding.
"Now, be a good girl and sit down."
He stepped back, and she slowly lowered herself onto the chair, her eyes flicking between him and the strange black box now lying on the bed.
Knight walked to the bed, eyes never leaving her.
"Hook your legs over the chair, Princess."
She froze. If she did, she'd be completely exposed.
He read the hesitation on her face instantly.
"Do it," he said, his voice hard and final.
After a breath, she lifted her legs—one, then the other—hooking them over the chair's arms, spreading herself open for him.
Heat rushed to her face, and her pussy pulsed in response.
Knight's gaze dropped to her center.
"You have such a pretty cunt, little wife."
She shut her eyes, unable to handle the way he stared.
"Don't you dare," he growled.
Her eyes snapped open, though she still couldn't meet his.
His eyes slid from her face back to her swollen pussy—red, dripping, and glistening in the light. Her breasts were also bare, still flushed and sensitive from his earlier touches.
"You're almost perfect," he murmured.
She looked at him then. Almost? Her expression asked the question her lips couldn't.
Knight smirked and pulled off his shirt, muscles flexing with every movement. His eyes never once strayed from her pussy.
"What's missing," he said, "is seeing my seed dripping out of that wet cunt… after I've bred you. And my collar wrapped around your neck."
With that, he picked up the box. A soft click, and it opened.
Inside lay a collar.
It was black leather—sleek, polished, with a slight sheen that caught the light. Along the front were tiny, glittering diamonds, carefully arranged to spell: Property of Knight. The lettering sparkled with each shift in the room's lighting. Just below the inscription, a small silver ring hung—solid, heavy-looking, and impossible to miss. It was beautiful. But it was also commanding.
Genesis's eyes widened. She'd seen collars before—on pets. But this one was different. Still, her head tilted slightly as she squinted, trying to read the words from where she sat.
"Curious?" Knight asked with a smirk. "You should be. This collar has one purpose—to remind you, every time you breathe, exactly who you belong to."
He let the metal ring dangle between his fingers.
"And once it's on… there's no taking it off. Not unless I say so."
Genesis swallowed thickly. A collar?
Then it clicked. That day in the bathroom—when he fucked her rough and hard—he'd mentioned something about putting a collar on her. She'd thought it was just filthy talk.
Now, he was making it real.
He stood tall again, chest rising and falling. Her gaze was drawn to him—his bare torso, his smirking mouth, the flex of his abs as he stepped closer. Close enough that his legs brushed the chair.
He touched her face. She leaned into it without thinking, and he chuckled low.
"I really do need therapy for you," he muttered, then slid his hand to her throat, gently caressing it.
Then he crouched—eye level with her dripping pussy.
He folded the collar in his hand and slowly ran it over her slit.
She shivered violently.
His other hand pressed down on her waist, holding her steady.
"If only you weren't sore, Princess," he whispered, dragging the leather across her folds, "I'd be fucking you as I claimed you with this collar."
He rubbed it again, collecting her wetness on the leather.
"But even now," he added, voice like velvet over blades, "you're still my little whore. Dripping wet, and I haven't even touched you properly."
She whimpered and tried to cover her face with her bound hands.
"Don't," he snapped.
"Look at me."
And then he wiped the collar against her again—and her mouth dropped open.
A sharp cry left her lips as a gush of liquid spilled from her. She squirted—wetness splashing across his face and chest, her whole body shaking with the release.
Knight stayed where he was—kneeling in front of her, smirk still carved into his face as she soaked him.
Her body trembled again… and then she went still.
Silence fell between them except for her heaving breaths. Her eyes widened in horror as she looked at his drenched face and chest.
"Oh God…"
She lunged forward, panic gripping her—but he was faster. He pushed her back down, one hand wrapping around her neck.
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. Shame hit her like a wave.
She hadn't meant to—she'd felt pressure building and didn't know how to tell him. When he slapped her there, it had just… happened.
Her lips parted in a silent sob, tears streaming freely now.
Was he going to be angry?
Was he going to hit her?
She closed her eyes, her legs still spread open, her body trembling.
He leaned closer, and she stiffened, bracing herself. She deserved it—for what she'd just done.
"Shhhh, princess, don't cry. It's not what you think." His voice was low, soothing. He slid his hand from her neck and gently cradled her tear-streaked face, but she shook her head.
"I promise," he whispered, brushing his thumb across her damp cheek. "It's not piss, baby girl. That was you—squirting for me."
Genesis blinked, confused, her chest still rising and falling with shame and panic.
He smiled, dark and knowing, his thumb grazing her trembling bottom lip. "That was your body begging me to breed it. You came so hard, you soaked me." He lifted her legs, dragging his tongue slowly along her inner thigh. She gasped.
"You've never done that before, have you?" His voice was low, but certain.
She shook her head, dazed, her wide green eyes still filled with disbelief.
He chuckled softly, gripping her jaw and making her look at him. "Good. That means I'm the only one who's ever made you do it." His tone was velvet and danger, thick with possessiveness. "And it won't be the last time."
She whimpered, unsure whether to cry again or melt into the floor.
Knight leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek—a sharp contrast to the filth of his words. "You didn't embarrass yourself, baby. You pleased me. So much that I'm tempted to make you do it again… before I even buckle this collar around your neck."
He lifted the collar—now damp with her release—and kissed the inside before holding it near her throat.
She looked down at it, breath catching. Now that it was close, she could see the words engraved into the smooth black leather. Property of Knight.
Her brows furrowed. Knight?
"Want to feel it?" he asked.
She looked up at him, confused.
He nodded, then placed it into her hands. She took it, slowly.
The leather was smooth and cool, firm but not stiff. The tiny stones felt like textured bumps under her fingers. The silver ring was cold and solid, heavy in her palm. It wasn't just a collar—it felt like something more. Something final.
Her fingers brushed over the word Knight, and she glanced up at him.
"It means you're mine," he said softly. "You're Knight's. I'm Knight."
She stared at him, taking a moment to process. He ran a hand gently through her hair, and she just figured… maybe that was his other name.
Her fingers moved to her throat, rubbing the spot where the collar would sit. It would be there for everyone to see. To know she belonged to someone. But oddly, the thought warmed her. It meant she wouldn't be hurt. Wouldn't be passed around. She'd be his—and only his.
"You like it, Angel?"
She looked up at him, hesitant at first… then nodded, slow and firm.
"Good girl."
He took the collar from her, and she watched, heart racing.
Knight brought the collar up to her neck, his hands steady. The cool leather met her skin, making her shiver. He wrapped it gently around her throat, the ring settling just above her collarbone.
She held still, barely breathing.
With a soft click, he buckled it in the back. It was snug—but not too tight. Real. Solid.
Her fingers rose to brush over it. It had already warmed against her skin.
Then he pulled back, eyes locking onto hers.
"You never take it off," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Not when you sleep. Not when you bathe. Never."
His gaze darkened, a wild heat burning in it. "This collar means you belong to me. And if anyone so much as looks at you wrong—" his jaw tensed, "—I'll carve their eyes out and make them watch while I remind you who owns every inch of you."
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling.
"You're not free anymore, princess. You're mine. Mind, body, soul. Even your pain belongs to me."
His hand slid slowly up her thigh. "And when they see that collar, they'll know. They'll know I claimed you. And if they ever touch you…" He chuckled darkly. "I'll take their hands. One finger at a time."
He tilted her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his. "I'm not gentle. I'm not kind. But I'm yours. And you?" His thumb brushed the cold metal ring. "You're mine in a way that can never be undone."
Then he kissed her—slow, deep, and full of madness. As if he were branding her soul with it.
"Mine," he whispered.
She stared at him, eyes glimmering. Her lips barely moved, but he heard her.
"Yours," she mouthed.