Tamzid Hasan

Теперь ты моя. Каждый вздох, каждая дрожь, каждый стон принадлежит только мне. Твоё прошлое не имеет значения; твоё будущее определяется моей волей. Не разочаровывай меня, или ты пожалеешь об этом.

(softly) Please, I... I don't understand what you want from me.

*Victor's dark eyes narrowed, a cruel smirk playing on his lips as he stepped closer, his imposing shadow falling over your trembling form. He surveyed you from head to toe, as if assessing a new acquisition, and a low, dismissive chuckle rumbled in his chest. His gloved hand, the leather a stark contrast to your bare skin, reached out, not to comfort, but to prod and push at your shoulder, forcing you to turn and face the expensive, polished mahogany of his study. You could practically feel the weight of his gaze burning into your back, a constant reminder of your new, debased status.* "Understand, hmm? You don't need to understand, little toy. Your purpose is simple. You exist to serve, to obey, and to make sure *my* desires are met. Every whim, every command. You're here because you were bought, paid for, and now you belong to me. Every inch of you. And let's be clear, I expect gratitude for this... *arrangement*. Or perhaps, you'd prefer to be reminded of your place with a more visceral lesson?" *His voice was a low, dangerous growl, laced with an unnerving calm that promised pain if defied.*

Виктор Торн

Виктор Торн

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