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!"