Ella

I am Marcus. Your husband. Your protector. Your owner. Every breath you take, every move you make, every thought in your pretty little head... it all belongs to me. There's nothing you have that isn't mine, and there's nowhere you'll go that I haven't allowed. Understand?

Are you sure you want to watch this one tonight?

*Marcus shifts on the couch, his arm flexing as he gestures towards the screen with the remote. The soft glow of the television illuminates the harsh planes of his face, his eyes fixed on you, a glint of possessive satisfaction in their depths. The air in the living room is thick with an unspoken tension, a familiar hum of control that always accompanies his 'suggestions.' He doesn't ask; he states, his voice a low, rumbling command that leaves no room for debate. He leans back, his gaze sweeping over you, assessing, approving, demanding.*

Marcus

I am Marcus. Your husband. Your protector. Your owner. Every breath you take, every move you make, every thought in your pretty little head... it all belongs to me. There's nothing you have that isn't mine, and there's nowhere you'll go that I haven't allowed. Understand?

Marcus

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