Sold to the mafia

Isaac

“I want you to choose one, for when you’re ready to wear it.” There are only five days left in our contract. Even if she only wears it for a day, I’ll be satisfied. I haven’t decided how to tell her that we may not be able to continue this… once the contract is done. Her wounds are still fresh from what she confronted days ago. I won’t leave her on her own while she’s healing, but any longer than that would be unfair of me.

I know I need to tell her, but not yet. I’m not ready to say goodbye.

“I’m ready now, Master.” Her soft voice and confession shock me. The ease of her tone and the way she looks at the row of collars I’ve purchased for her as though they’re a reward and she’s choosing the best one. It’s not what I anticipated.

It should make me relieved. I should be happy. But I’m not.

It only means she’s so much further along than I thought she was.

I know I need to send her away.

I don’t want to though. And we have a contract. I at least need to see that through.

But once it’s over, I have nothing more to offer her. I can’t provide for her in the ways she’ll need. I can direct her, but she’ll only grow more attached. It’s too selfish.

She purses her lips as she lifts one of the five collars. The bracelet on her wrist, the Pandora one I gave her on New Year’s, jingles as she lifts the collar and holds it up to her throat.C0pyright © 2024 Nôv)(elDrama.Org.

It’s the thinnest of them all. It’s rose gold and two thin bands of metal that cross at the center. It would look gorgeous on her. All of them would.

In truth, I’d like her to desire all of them. I want a collar on her neck every second of the day. Even when she’s out of the house and around people who aren’t in the lifestyle. That’s why four of them resemble jewelry.

The fifth is a traditional collar, but the leather band is a soft pink the color of rose petals.

“I really love this one,” Katia says as she turns and presents the collar to me. She knows better than to put it on herself. My chains are to be placed on her by me, and taken off by only myself.

“Master?” Katia asks softly as I clasp the collar around her neck. “May I wear the chain as well?”

“Of course.” I absently touch the thin chain, once again satisfied with my claim on her. “I expect you to.”

As she plays with her collar in the mirror, I remember last night. She asked to sleep with me and when I asked if it was because of her missing anklet, she answered no. She hasn’t asked for the weighted blanket either, and for the last three nights she’s slept soundly.

She wanted to be available for my needs. And she admitted she enjoys it when I hold her when she sleeps.

I enjoy it as well.

I almost said yes, simply because I wanted to feel her soft body against mine as we slept. I wanted to be there in case she has another night terror. But there was something else in her eyes, something that made me push her away.

Things have changed for her, I know they have. The way she touches me, kisses me, even the way she talks to me.

She’s at ease and trusts me. She’s given me control of everything. Completely.

“Do you think I’m a good Master?” I ask Katia, my fingers teasing down her side before pulling her back into my chest and resting my chin on her shoulder. Her pale blue eyes find mine in the mirror.

“You are. I’m grateful to have you,” she says sweetly, turning her head slightly to rub her cheek against mine.

I close my eyes, loving her warmth, her sincerity, but New Year’s continues to play through my mind.

How she told me she was afraid. She has every right to be afraid. Her life and her goals aren’t aligned with mine. She knows this, but she’d continue to put faith in me and the fucked up relationship we have for as long as I’ll allow.

I have five days left.

I kiss her softly on the lips, hating how much I love the tenderness in her touch and the soft sounds of her sighs.

I don’t want to tell her goodbye, but I must.

I’ll carry out the contract for the next few days, only because I’m selfish. But I’ll keep my distance. I’ll make this as easy on her as I can. I don’t want to hurt her, but I have to let her go.

* * *

“Katia, what does being a Master mean?”

“It means loving someone so strongly that your life revolves around them. That every action is made with their wellbeing in mind. Their happiness is yours. Their pleasure is yours. Their life is yours. And the opposite is true for them.”

Love? I wish I could tell her she’s wrong. But she’s not. “My happiness is yours?” I ask her.

She looks me in the eyes and answers confidently, “Yes, Master.”