Chapter 437: You will do what i say - r18

"W-wha"t she stammered. "H-how... did you kn—"

He squeezed harder, making her gasp in panic.

"Oh, I know," he whispered, letting out a soft chuckle. "I know everything, Eliz."

He dragged her down by the throat, forcing her to sit back on the desk, her legs spread slightly from the sudden drop.

"I made it clear before," Julian murmured, his tone darker now. "Do not involve me in your little schemes."

Her lips trembled. She tried to speak—but his pressure increased again, just a bit. Not enough to hurt her, but enough to remind her: he could. Anytime he wanted.

"I’ll ask once," Julian said coldly, eyes boring into hers. "Why are you really here?"

Eliz’s breath came in short, ragged bursts. Her thighs trembled, her gown pushed high enough that her panties were now fully visible—but the seduction had slipped.

This was something else now.

"I..." she tried, her voice a whisper. "He—he said you wouldn’t suspect me. That you’d—"

"That I would

fuck

you blind and never ask questions?" Julian’s tone was low, dangerous, and dangerously close to her lips. "You thought I was that stupid?"

She whimpered, shaking her head, but his hand didn’t move.

"No," he hissed, "you thought I was weak. That I would welcome anyone to my bed."

His fingers loosened just enough for her to breathe—just enough for her to speak. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, nipples still hard, body still betraying her even as fear bloomed wild inside her.

"I didn’t want to," she whispered. "He... threatened me. Said he’d kill me if I didn’t—"

Julian smiled.

"Oh," he murmured, tilting his head just slightly. "So you fear him more than me?"

He laughed softly, the sound sending shivers through her.

"That won’t do, Eliz. Not at all."

His grip on her wrist tightened before he yanked her off the desk and spun her around. Her hands hit the cold wood, her chest pressing down as he kicked her legs apart with his shoes.

Her ass was fully exposed now, the cheeks jiggling slightly from the sudden motion. Julian’s eyes narrowed as he gripped the thin lace of her panty, twisting it in his fist. With one sudden, savage motion, he tore them with a sharp snap.

"Won’t be needing those," he growled. "Sluts like you don’t get to wear anything when you’re in

my

presence."

She flinched, her hands curling into fists on the desk. And yet... between her thighs, heat still pulsed—traitorous, maddening.

"Don’t call me that," she hissed through her teeth, trembling from restraint. "You don’t know anything about me."

Julian chuckled.

"Oh, but I do," he said, his palm sliding between her legs again—his fingers slick with her juices. "You hate it. You

hate

how wet you are right now."

She bit her lip hard, as if that could silence the truth her body screamed.

"I should be punishing you," he growled, leaning in, his breath hot on her neck. "But I think the real punishment... is

making you admit

you like this."

Eliz gasped. "I don’t."

SMACK.

His hand came down hard on her ass, the sound echoing off the walls. She jerked forward with a cry, her hands gripping the desk tightly.

"Wrong answer," Julian growled.

The sting bloomed across her skin, hot and humiliating. She blinked fast, biting back a moan that threatened to escape.

Another slap—this time lower.

She gasped again, her whole body jolting in a mixture of surprise, anger, and weird arousal.

"Say it again," he said, fingers sliding into her hair, pulling her head up just enough to meet her eyes in the reflection of the window. "Look at yourself."

She stared, wide-eyed, at her own reflection—cheeks flushed, humiliated, eyes wild with shame... and heat.

"I—" Eliz stammered, her voice cracking.

Julian paused behind her.

"No more lies," he said quietly. "Not tonight."

His hand moved from her hair to her throat—not squeezing this time, just resting. "You’re not here by accident. You

want

this, whether you’re brave enough to admit it or not."

"I didn’t come to—"

Smack.

Her body jumped, another hard slap leaving a fresh red mark on her flesh.

"You don’t speak unless I give you permission," Julian said calmly, stepping in closer.

He reached into his robe, pulling out a slim strip of leather—

a collar

.

Eliz stared at it, completely caught off guard.

Julian’s gaze darkened. "You want to keep pretending? Fine. Get dressed and walk out."

He waited.

She didn’t move.

"...But if you stay," he continued, "you wear this. You kneel. You submit. Completely."

Eliz’s breath came shallow, her skin still stinging from his spanking.

She hated him for this.

And hated herself even more for wanting it.

"I..." she whispered, eyes fixed on the collar. "What happens if I say yes?"

Julian leaned in close, his lips barely brushing her ear.

"Then I break you, Eliz," he whispered, soft yet haunting. "Slowly. Utterly."

Eliz didn’t speak. She just stared at the collar that Julian held it between two fingers. He didn’t repeat the offer.

Her pride screamed at her to stand. To turn. To spit in his face.

But she didn’t.

And after what felt like an eternity, her fingers moved.

Slow. Trembling. She took it.

Julian smiled. "On your knees."

She lowered herself slowly until her knees met the cold stone floor. She didn’t dare look up.

"Back straight. Palms on thighs," he said, circling her now like a master assessing property. "Eyes down."

She obeyed.

"Good girl," he murmured—and it didn’t sound kind. He stepped forward and, without any words, fastened the collar around her throat—tight enough to remind her: she had made a choice.

It clicked shut.

No going back.

Julian stepped in front of her. She could see only his shoes.

"You will call me

Sir

or

Master

. If you fail, you will be corrected."

"Yes, Sir," she whispered.

Smack.

His hand struck her cheek.

"You don’t whisper," he said calmly. "You

present yourself

. Speak with respect."

"Yes, Master."

"Better."

He stepped behind her again, and she heard the sound of a drawer sliding open.