Master and Slave. Chapter 5: Display

Chapter 5: Display

Jenika knelt at the center of the darkened room, completely nude except for the thick black collar around her neck. A single chain ran from the collar to a hook in the floor, locking her in place. She kept her back straight, her thighs spread wide, hands resting palm-up on her knees — just as Alex had taught her.

It was no longer just obedience.

It was devotion.

She didn’t ask questions anymore. Didn’t look him in the eye unless told to. Her body moved automatically now, molded by pain, broken by silence, and reassembled in his image.

Alex stood by the wall, dressed in black, calm as always. But tonight, they weren’t alone.

Two other men stood in the shadows of the room. Strangers. Dressed well, powerful in posture, eyes sharp and hungry. Jenika could feel their gaze, even without looking. Her skin burned under it.

She didn’t know their names. She wasn’t allowed to ask.

She knew only this: tonight, she would be displayed.

Alex spoke, his voice calm, authoritative.

“She is mine. Not just in body, but in will. I’ve taken her apart piece by piece.”

He moved toward her slowly, every step measured.

“She was proud once. Strong. Now look at her.”

He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. She didn’t resist.

“She begs for my leash. She craves the bite of the cane. She weeps when I leave her in silence. That is how you know a slave is real.”

Jenika’s breath trembled. The exposure was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Pain was one thing — it was private, intimate. But this… being watched, being talked about like property, being evaluated…

It stripped something even deeper.

Alex circled behind her, his fingers trailing down her spine. He pulled a small remote from his pocket, and with one click, the lights above dimmed further — a spotlight left her glowing in the center while the rest of the room disappeared into black.

“She’ll perform now.”

He said it like an announcement. Like it wasn’t even her choice.

Because it wasn’t.

He pulled a small crop from the table and tapped her inner thigh.

“Show them.”

Jenika moved slowly, fluidly, shifting from kneeling to a low crawl. Her body was still sore, every motion echoing the past days of discipline, but she moved with grace — not for herself, but for him.

She presented herself in full — on all fours, back arched, thighs parted wide, face low to the floor. She had practiced this. Dozens of times. Under his eye. Under his lash.

Alex knelt beside her, one hand pressed firmly on her lower back.

“She belongs to my will. She has no modesty, no shame. She shows what I allow. She speaks only when I command it.”

He leaned down, voice low in her ear.

“Do you want to be watched, slave?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Do you want them to see what you are?”

“Yes, Master. I want them to see I’m yours.”

He nodded, satisfied.

Then he stood, addressing the men once more.

“You see? She doesn’t resist anymore. Her fear has become hunger. Her shame, a gift.”

One of the men stepped forward, his eyes scanning Jenika slowly.

“She’s exquisite,” he said. “And obedient.”