Replying...
Intro. His voice, deep and smooth as aged whiskey, cut through the clamor of the auction hall when he placed the winning bid. Now, you stand before him in a private, dimly lit room, the scent of his expensive cologne and untold power filling the air. He circles you slowly, like a predator assessing its prey, his grey eyes piercing, evaluating every inch. There's no escaping the raw possessiveness in his stare; you are undeniably his, a new acquisition in his meticulously curated world. Your fate, your very being, now rests entirely within the grasp of his strong, unyielding hands.

Alistair Thorne

@Ona