I sat across from Brayden at the long dining table, my hands folded in my lap, my collar pressing against my throat. He drank his coffee slowly, eyes fixed on the paper in front of him. For once, he was quiet, almost... normal. For one foolish heartbeat, I thought this morning might feel like a real marriage. Husband and wife having Breakfast in a mansion. Then the doors crashed open. "Brayden!" His mother's voice. I flinched as an elegant woman walked into the room. Behind her trailed his younger brother, his mouth curled into a smile that made my stomach turn. Brayden didn't rise. He didn't even look surprised. He set his coffee cup down with a deliberate click. "Mother," he said flatly. "Don't you 'Mother' me!" she snapped. Her gaze turned to me with undisguised disgust. "You had a wedding. A wedding. And you didn't think to invite me? Your own blood?" I stiffened. My fork slipped in my hand. His brother, Leonardo, I remembered, pulled out a chair, his eyes never leaving me. He sat down and leaned back, spreading his legs, staring at me like I was naked. He made me uncomfortable. Brayden finally set his paper aside. "It wasn't a wedding," he said. "It was paperwork. Nothing more." "Paperwork?" His mother's voice rose, trembling with fury. "You shame this family, Brayden! You bring a whore into my house, chain her like an animal, and call her wife?" Her words hurt, but I kept my lips pressed tightly together. Rule One. Never speak unless Brayden spoke to me. She turned her gaze to me. "What? No words? No greeting? You just sit there like a dumb Barbie doll?" I lowered my eyes to my plate. "Speak, girl!" she demanded, slamming a hand against the table. "Answer me when I address you!" Brayden didn't even flinch. He cut into his toast. "She doesn't speak to anyone but me. Those are the rules." His mother's face twisted in outrage. "Rules? You've turned her into a mute! This...this slave is your wife?" Leonardo chuckled under his breath, leaning forward now, his elbows on the table, his eyes focused on my cleavage. "She doesn't need to speak, Mamma. She's pretty enough just to look at." My throat locked. His eyes moved lower, dragging heat and shame across my skin. I shifted in my chair, but his stare followed me. Brayden didn't notice. Or maybe he didn't care. "Listen to me, Brayden," his mother hissed. "I don't care what papers you signed, what bed you share, what lies you tell yourself. Alessia is your wife. Do you hear me? Alessia. Not this... this silent little tramp. Your father would be turning in his grave." Her words landed like a slap. Brayden finally raised his eyes. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and set it down. "Get out," he said. His mother froze. "What did you..." "Out," Brayden repeated. "Both of you." Leonardo smirked, rising slowly, his gaze lingering on me a moment too long before he pushed in his chair. His mother pointed at me, trembling with rage. "Mark my words, Brayden. Alessia will take her place. And when she does, this... girl will be nothing but dust." Her heels clicked sharply as she stormed out, Leonardo trailing behind with one last filthy look over his shoulder. The silence that followed was unbearable. Brayden poured himself another drink as though nothing had happened. I sat frozen, my nails digging crescents into my palms. Finally, he looked at me. His lips curved. "You did well. Not a word." My chest rose and fell. His gaze darkened. "But next time, Zoe... if you hesitate, if I see even a flicker of rebellion in your eyes, I'll remind you what obedience feels like." I swallowed, the collar around my neck heavier than ever. By nightfall, the mansion's walls felt suffocating. When Brayden told me to dress, I obeyed without question. A black silk dress, no bra, no panties. His instructions were precise. The car ride was silent. When the tinted glass doors of his underground club slid open, I forgot how to breathe. This place pulsed with shadows, heat, and power. Music throbbed like a second heartbeat. And everywhere, people were fucking. Not behind closed doors. Not in bedrooms. Here, in full view. A woman bent over a table, her wrists tied with silk as a man fucked her from behind. Another, gagged and blindfolded, rode her Master's lap while others watched. My face burned, but my eyes wouldn't move. Each moan, each slap of skin, each desperate cry of pleasure, my body betrayed me. Heat pooled between my thighs. My nipples ached against the thin silk. Brayden noticed. Of course he noticed. His lips brushed my ear. "You're dripping, aren't you? Watching them fuck... makes you wet." "No sir. I..." "Silence." His command sliced through me. He didn't waste time. He dragged me past the voyeurs and moans into a guarded corridor. The men at the door didn't even blink when he shoved me inside his private suite. My stomach dropped. It was a perfect replica of his mansion's playroom, toys, chains, harnesses, whips, every instrument of pleasure and pain gleaming under soft light. He turned to me, eyes blazing. "Strip." My hands trembled, but I obeyed. The dress slid from my body, pooling at my feet. Brayden's mouth curved. "Good girl." In a blur, he fastened a harness around my waist, then he covered my eyes with a blindfold and shoved a gag into my mouth. The chains lifted, hoisting me from the ground until I hung suspended and exposed. The first lash of his whip cracked across my ass. A strangled moan vibrated in my gag. Another lash. My body jolted, swinging in the harness, breasts jiggling. Brayden's chuckle was dark. "You love it. Don't you, slut?" His fingers shoved into me, deep and rough. My wetness gushed over his hand. He finger-fucked me until my body shook, until I was sobbing into the gag, begging without words. A moment later, his cock slammed into me from behind. My scream choked on the gag as he pounded into me, relentless, the harness rocking with every thrust. His hand found my clit and as he thrust into me, he rubbed on it aggressively. "Mine," he snarled. "My wife. My whore. You'll never look at another man again." The pressure built, unbearable, until it snapped. Pleasure tore through me like lightning. I screamed into the gag as my release sprayed, soaking my thighs, splattering the floor. Brayden's growl vibrated against my back. "That's it. Squirt for me, little slut. Mark my floor with your shame." But he didn't stop. He drove into me harder, faster, chasing his own release while forcing mine again and again until my body convulsed, squirting helplessly with every ruthless thrust. When he finally came, it was deep, filling me so completely it dripped to my thigh. He lowered me slowly, ungagged me, removed the blindfold. Brayden kissed my temple, almost gentle. "Welcome to my world, Mrs. Gatsby. You'll never escape it now."

The next morning didn't start with sunlight. It started with his hand on my throat. I woke up choking, my wrists pinned above my head, his thick hard cock already pressing against me. No words. No warning. Just Brayden taking what was his. "Spread that cunt," he growled. I hated how fast my thighs obeyed. The sheets twisted under me as he shoved his dick inside me. My gasp broke into a cry, but the sound only made him thrust harder, pushing me further into the bed. "So wet," he snarled against my ear. "Mine." Every thrust was punishment. Every drag of his cock inside me reminded me that I wasn't a woman, not a wife, I was a hole, a fucktoy he'd bought then legally married. And still, my body betrayed me. Wetness spilled around him, coating his cock. I wanted to scream in his face, claw his eyes out, but my cunt clamped down, greedy for more. "Pathetic," he hissed, grabbing my hair and yanking my head back. "You hate me, don't you? You fucking hate me. But you're dripping on my cock." "Yes," I gasped before I could stop myself, shame tearing through me. "Yes what?" His thrusts slammed deeper, harder, his hand squeezing my throat until black spots danced at the edge of my vision. "Yes, sir!" He fucked me until my body convulsed, until I came despite the anger boiling in my chest. Only then did he cum inside me. When he pulled out, I rolled to the side, trembling, clutching the sheets. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scrub my skin raw. I wanted more. But Brayden wasn't done. He tossed something onto the bed. A vibrator. "Put it in," he ordered. My stomach turned. "Mr Gatsby, please..." His slap snapped across my cheek. "Sir," I corrected quickly, tasting blood. "Please, sir..." "Do it." My fingers shook as I slid the toy between my folds. It slid in too easily; I was still wet from the brutal fuck he'd given me. He put the remote into his pocket, smirking. "Good girl. Now get dressed. We have a meeting." Breakfast was untouched on the table. My stomach was empty, but his rules were clear, I didn't eat unless he allowed it. My hunger twisted tighter with every tick of the clock. By the time we walked into his underground club, i was exhausted. The air smelt of sex and smoke. Mafia men waited at the long table, their eyes sharp. Brayden took the head seat like a king. I sat on a chair behind him with my collar on my neck. Then all of a sudden I felt it. A low hum inside me. My back arched before I could stop it. The vibrator pulsed to life, deep inside, vibrating against every raw clit. My thighs pressed together under the table, trying to fight it, but the vibration was too intense. Brayden didn't even look at me. He sipped his whiskey while the fucking remote was hidden in his palm. "Mr. Gatsby," one of the men said, "about the shipment..." The vibration intensified. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. My breath hitched. I stared at the table, praying no one noticed the redness of my skin. Brayden looked at me briefly, lips curving into the faintest smirk before returning to business as if nothing was happening. The vibrator went a level higher.. My wet cunt clenched desperately around the toy. My nipples peaked under the thin fabric of my dress. God! I hated him. He leaned back in his chair, one leg stretched. Only I knew what he was doing. When I shifted slightly, trying to relieve the pressure, his eyes snapped to me. The remote clicked. The vibrator went to its highest setting. I almost cried out. My hand shot to my mouth, muffling a strangled moan. The men kept talking. Numbers. Deals. Blood. Guns. And I sat there, legs trembling, cunt spasming around the vibrator, Brayden's eyes burning holes into me, daring me to disobey Rule One. By the time the meeting ended, my body was soaked. He stood. "Gentlemen." His tone was smooth. "That will be all." Then his hand fisted my hair, dragging me up from my chair. The men pretended not to see. Pretended not to hear my gasp as he shoved me down the corridor, through a guarded door, into his private suite. The moment the door shut, he slammed me against the wall. "You glared at me." His voice was low, lethal. "No I didn't..." The vibrator buzzed to life again inside me. "You dared to glare at me, slut. My wife doesn't glare. She takes what I give her." He ripped my dress open. My swollen breasts spilled free, nipples hard. His hand closed over my throat as the toy hummed mercilessly inside me. "Say it," he demanded, thrusting two fingers into me alongside the vibrator. "I hate you," I gasped. He grinned like a devil. "And yet your pussy's begging for me." I came then, explosively, violently. My thighs shook, liquid squirting out, soaking his hand. "Slut," he spat, shoving me to the floor. He yanked the toy out, dragged his belt free and unzipped his pants. His thick cock sprang out heavy and hard, glistening with precum at the tip. He stroked himself once spreading the cum over the swollen head. "You see this, whore?" His voice was a growl. "This cock owns you. Every hole, every inch." Then he shoved himself inside me "Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, pounding me into the rug. "Soaking wet for me. Don't pretend you don't love this cock." Each thrust rocked me forward, scraping my skin against the carpet until it burned. His hips crashed into mine, his balls slapping against my ass with every stroke. "Take it, slut. Take your Master's cock." His hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back, forcing my eyes to him. "Say it. Say this pussy is mine." Tears blurred my vision. Hate clawed through my chest, but my body betrayed me, clenching tight around him, sucking him deeper. And even as tears burned down my cheeks, my body betrayed me again. Pleasure tore me apart, sharp and humiliating. He groaned as he spilled into me, filling me to the brim. When he pulled out, cum leaked down my thighs, dripping onto the floor. "Good girl," he said, mocking. "My perfect little wife." I lay broken, hating him, hating myself.

I was still on the rug, cum leaking between my thighs, when his phone rang. Brayden didn't look at me. He picked it up, buttoning his pants with one hand. "Yes," he said. "Send something to the mansion. An Expensive dress. Emerald silk. Something appropriate for a family dinner." His eyes flicked down to me where I lay on the floor like a beggar. "And make sure it fits my wife." He hung up, sliding his belt back into place. "Get up." My arms trembled as I pushed myself off the carpet. He stepped close, his thumb scooping a streak of cum along my thigh, then shoving it between my lips. "Swallow." I obeyed. The dress came in a velvet box, carried by a servant who didn't meet my eyes. Brayden opened it himself, pulling back the tissue like it was a gift for him, not me. Deep green silk with a neckline that showed more than half of my cleavage and a high slit. "Strip." My skin still burned from his hands, but I obeyed. When I was naked, he traced a purple bruise on my hip, then placed the dress over my head, fitting it into place like I was a mannequin. The silk clung to my hour glass body. Brayden fastened my collar over the fabric. His lips brushed my ear. "You'll sit there tonight looking like a queen. But don't forget, you're still my whore." The restaurant was very elegant. Crystal chandeliers glittered above a long table where they were already waiting. His mother. His brother, Leonardo. And Alessia. "Brayden," his mother snapped, rising. "Finally. And you bring... this." Her gaze cut me open like a blade. "Mother." Brayden pulled out a chair for me. I sat. Alessia leaned forward. "We were just discussing you, Brayden. And your... unusual bride." His mother's lips thinned. "Bride? Don't insult that word. Alessia is your wife. This one is a mistake. My son will soon come to his senses" Leonardo leaned back in his chair, his gaze roaming down my neckline. Heat crawled up my neck. I kept my eyes on my plate, silent. His mother slammed her hand on the table. "Girl, look at me when I speak to you!" I froze. "She doesn't speak to anyone but me," Brayden said lazily, sipping his wine. "Those are the rules." Alessia's hand touched his arm lightly, her voice soft. "It isn't her fault. She's just... not meant for this world. She belongs elsewhere. Beside the servants. Or the dogs." Leonardo's laugh was low, filthy. "Dogs would be lucky. At least they'd hear her bark. I'd rather hear her scream." His mother's fury cracked. "Listen to me, Brayden! Alessia is your wife. Alessia is the one meant to stand beside you. This silent little tramp will never be accepted." "Zoe is my wife." His tone was final. Alessia's face drained of color. "You don't mean that." "I mean every fucking word." Brayden leaned back. His gaze cut straight to his brother. "I will never be married to a woman who spread her legs for my own brother." "Brayden..." Alessia's voice cracked. "I was drunk. I didn't even cum. I've apologized a thousand times. What more do you want from me?" Brayden laughed. "You think being drunk excuses you fucking Leonardo?" His mother gasped. "Watch your mouth!" "Don't tell me to watch my mouth," Brayden snapped. "You always support him. You should've told your precious Alessia to keep her legs closed." Alessia reached across the table. "It was a mistake. A stupid, meaningless mistake. But you're throwing away us for... for her?" Her eyes flicked to me, dripping venom. "For a mute little nobody who doesn't even know how to act at a table?" I stared down at the polished wood, tears streaming down my face. obeying the rule that burned in my head: Don't speak. Don't speak unless he allows it. Leonardo chuckled. "You talk like it was meaningless, Alessia, but you didn't seem to regret it at the time." His eyes slid to me, slow and lewd. "Maybe my brother should thank me. At least one of us enjoyed it." "Leo!" Their mother's voice cracked. Brayden's jaw flexed. His hand landed heavy on my thigh beneath the table, fingers biting into my skin. He was very angry. "You disgust me," Brayden said, eyes locked on his brother. "Both of you." Alessia's voice shook. "You're making a mistake, Brayden. She'll never give you what I can. The power and connections i bring. If you marry me you'll be the next Mafia lord of the city. Just divorce her and send her away" Brayden's lips curved into a cruel smile. "Power? Connections? You think I need you to take what's already mine?" His mother slammed her palm against the table. "Alessia is right! With her family behind you, you could own this city. Instead, you chain yourself to some... some stray who has nothing." I swallowed hard, staring at the plate, shame and hate swirling inside me. Brayden leaned back, his thumb stroking circles into my thigh, deceptively calm. "This 'stray,' as you call her, carries my name now. My ring. My rules. That makes her worth more than all your father's alliances combined." Alessia's face flushed. "She's not worthy. She's a disgrace. She doesn't even open her mouth when spoken to!" Brayden turned his head slowly, eyes cutting to me like a blade. "She doesn't open her mouth," he said softly, "because she knows who owns it." The words hit like a bullet. I was his property. Leonardo's laugh broke the silence. "Own it, huh? Funny. She looks like she'd moan just as sweet for anyone who spread her legs." "Enough!" Brayden's fist slammed onto the table. "Say one more word, Leo, and I'll make sure you never speak again." His mother rose from her chair, trembling with fury. "You would choose her over your blood? Over your own family?" Brayden's eyes went cold. "I already have." Leonardo said. "Tell me, brother... does she even know how to suck your cock properly? Or is she just good at lying there and taking it?" Brayden's hand clenched tighter on my thigh. "Leonardo," he said, voice like a blade. "I warned you." "She'll never be me!" Alessia's hands trembled on the table. "She can't give you power. She can't give you status. She can't even give you children! She's a useless whore and you..." Brayden's chair scraped back with a violent sound. "Shut. Your. Mouth." Alessia froze, her face pale. Leonardo's smirk faltered. Their mother went stiff with fear. Brayden straightened, his gaze sweeping over them. "You dare to speak about my wife like that?" His hand shot out, fisting in my hair, yanking me to my feet. I gasped, stumbling, but he held me firm against his side. "This woman," he growled, "is Zoe Gatsby. My wife. My property. My whore. And I'd burn the whole world down before I let any of you lay a finger on her." Leonardo swallowed hard, his smirk gone. Alessia's eyes filled with tears. Their mother rose shakily. "Brayden," she hissed, "you shame this family..." "No," he cut her off, dragging me closer against him, his hand still tangled in my hair. "I am this family. Without me, you are nothing. And don't you forget it." He didn't wait for a reply. He yanked me away from the table. "Brayden!" his mother shouted after him. "You'll regret this!"