Chapter 32: The Depths of His Devotion (Main Character’s Point of View)

Caspian knelt before me, his breath shallow, his body utterly still save for the faint tremors that ran through him. His silver hair, once meticulously styled, was now a beautiful, disheveled mess, strands clinging to his damp skin. The raw need in his gaze was something visceral, something that sent a deep, knowing thrill through me.

He was waiting.

Not just for my touch.

Not just for my words.

For permission to exist.

And I let him wait.

Seconds stretched into an eternity, the room thick with the weight of his silent, desperate longing. His lips parted, just enough to breathe, his entire body so still, as if the slightest movement might ruin everything.

Finally, I reached out, letting my fingers skim along his jaw—a whisper of touch, a cruel tease of something more.

He shuddered.

I pressed my thumb against his lower lip, watching as his breath hitched, uneven, wrecked. His entire body tensed for just a moment before melting into my touch, leaning forward ever so slightly, like a man on the verge of worship.

"You're so eager," I murmured, my voice smooth, teasing, deliberate.

His lips parted just a fraction more, wordless, waiting, pleading without a single sound.

I smiled.

"So helpless for me now, aren't you?"

Another shudder, this one more violent.

"Say it."

A pause.

And then, a soft, desperate whisper.

"...Yes."

I ran my fingers through his silver hair, enjoying the way his entire body tilted into my touch, seeking it, needing it.

"You don't even think anymore, do you?"

He swallowed hard.

I could see the struggle flicker across his features—a brief, fleeting moment where the remnants of his former self tried to grasp onto reason.

Tried.

And failed.

"...No," he admitted, voice barely above a breath.

Perfect.

I let my nails scrape lightly against the back of his neck, watching the way his breath hitched sharply.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and when they reopened, they were completely glazed with submission.

"Good boy," I purred.

His entire body tensed—and then melted.

A soft, wrecked exhale, as if the words alone had undone him.

I leaned down, letting my breath ghost over his ear, letting my voice drop into something silkier, more possessive.

"You love this, don't you?"

Another pause.

And then—

"...Yes."

A whisper.

A vow.

I traced my fingers down his throat, feeling the wild, frantic pulse beneath his skin. He didn't even try to hide it anymore.

Didn't even try to be anything other than what I made him.

And when I leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his lips, he didn't hesitate.

Didn't think.

Didn't resist.

He simply gave in.

The kiss was slow, drawn out, an exercise in control.

I let him feel it—the way I dictated the pace, the way I controlled his pleasure, the way he had no choice but to follow wherever I led.

His breath turned ragged, his hands twitching at his sides as if instinct begged him to reach for me—but he didn't.

He knew better.

And when I finally pulled away, when I met his dazed, devoted gaze, I smiled.

"That's it," I murmured, cupping his face in my hands. "That's what I wanted to see."

He exhaled shakily, pressing ever so slightly into my touch, as if afraid I might take it away.

"I'll give you what you need," I promised, my voice soft, cruel. "But only if you deserve it."

A sharp inhale.

And then—

"...I'll earn it," he whispered, desperate, mindless, wrecked.

Perfect.

I let my fingers trail down his throat once more, feeling the way his pulse thrummed wildly beneath my touch.

He was already too far gone.

And he would only fall deeper from here.

Chapter 33: Bound in Devotion (Main Character's Point of View)

Caspian was on his knees before me, his silver hair a disheveled mess, his breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps.

His eyes— his beautiful, ruined eyes— stared up at me in something akin to worship.

I ran my fingers through his hair, watching the way his entire body melted into the touch. He didn't hesitate. Didn't resist. He only waited.

Waited for whatever I might give him.

Or whatever I might deny him.

"You look beautiful like this," I murmured, my voice laced with cruel affection.

His lips parted, his breath shuddering.

"Do you like it?" I whispered, tilting his chin up. "Being mine like this?"

A soft, wrecked exhale.

"...Yes."

A whisper. A confession. A vow.

I smiled.

"Then show me."

Later That Night

The chamber was dimly lit, only the flickering glow of the fireplace casting shadows against the walls.

Caspian lay beneath me, his bare chest rising and falling in uneven, shallow breaths. His silver hair spilled across the silk sheets, framing his face in glowing strands.

His wrists were bound to the headboard—red silk restraints holding him in place, rendering him utterly helpless.

And yet, his expression was not one of fear.

It was longing.

Submission.

Devotion.

I traced my nails lightly down his torso, watching the way his stomach trembled beneath my touch. His muscles tensed for just a fraction of a second before melting beneath my fingers.

"Look at you," I murmured, admiring the sight of him laid bare before me. "So eager. So helpless."

His lips parted, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

I could see it—the war within him. The last remnants of the man he used to be, desperately trying to hold on.

But he was losing.

He was already mine.

I leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his throat. His breath hitched, his head tilting ever so slightly—offering himself without hesitation.

"Such a good boy," I whispered against his skin.

A full-body shudder.

His fingers clenched against the restraints, but he didn't fight them. Didn't try to escape.

Because he didn't want to.

I let my teeth graze against his throat, just enough to feel the way his pulse pounded beneath my lips.

A soft, wrecked sound escaped him.

I smiled.

"I could do anything to you right now," I murmured, letting my hands roam down his chest, over his ribs, down to his hips.

Another sharp inhale.

I dragged my nails back up, just barely raking them against his skin—just enough to make him shudder.

And when I finally kissed him—slow, deep, claiming— he broke.

He arched into me, a strangled moan escaping him, his body trembling with pure, unrestrained need.

Perfect.

I owned him now.

And he would never want to be free.

Final Chapter: Bound, Body and Soul (Main Character's Point of View)

The dawn painted the sky in soft hues of gold and violet, filtering through the heavy velvet curtains that framed the grand windows. The remnants of the night before still clung to the air—the scent of sweat and silk, the echoes of gasping breaths, the phantom imprint of my hands on his body.

Caspian lay beside me, his silver hair a glorious mess against the dark sheets. His wrists were still reddened from the silk that had bound him, but he made no effort to hide them. No effort to reclaim himself.

He didn't need to.

Because he no longer belonged to himself.

He belonged to me.

I traced a finger down his chest, watching the way he shivered beneath my touch. Even in sleep, his body still responded to me.

A soft sigh escaped his lips, his lashes fluttering as he slowly woke. Silver eyes, once so cold, now gazed at me with pure, unthinking devotion.

"...My lady," he murmured, his voice raw, reverent.

I smiled, tilting his chin up.

"You're awake."

"Of course," he whispered. "I would never keep you waiting."

I leaned closer, letting my breath ghost over his lips. "Good."

He exhaled, shaky and eager.

He didn't move. Didn't reach for me. He knew better.

But his eyes—gods, his eyes.

They begged.

Begged to be touched.

Begged to be used.

Begged to be claimed.

"You're beautiful like this," I murmured, brushing my lips against his, barely allowing him the contact he so desperately craved.

He trembled.

"You love this, don't you?"

A pause.

And then—

"...Yes."

A whisper. A confession. A vow.

His Heart, His Soul, His Everything

Caspian knelt before me, his head bowed, his silver hair spilling over his shoulders like a silken curtain.

But his gaze—his worshipful, ruined gaze—never left me.

"I exist for you," he whispered, his voice raw with devotion. "I belong to you, now and always."

I smiled, lifting his chin with a single finger.

"Swear it."

"I swear."

"Swear that you will never seek freedom again."

"I swear it," he breathed. "With my body, my mind, my soul. I am yours."

I leaned in, pressing a slow, claiming kiss to his lips.

He moaned into it, his body melting against mine, every inch of him trembling in submission.

And when I pulled away, I whispered against his mouth—

"Good boy."

He shuddered.

The final piece of his former self shattered.

And he was mine.

Completely.

Eternally.

Irrevocably.

The End.