Master and Slave Chapter 6: Marked

Chapter 6: Marked

The room was quiet. Sacred.

Candles lined the walls, flickering against black marble. The floor was cold beneath Jenika’s knees, her wrists once again cuffed behind her back. She wore only the collar — thick, black leather — and the silence between her breaths.

Alex stood in front of her, dressed not in casual black but in ceremonial form: tailored, sleeveless vest, dark gloves, and a red silk sash tied around his waist. Behind him, resting on a metal tray, sat the object she feared most.

A branding iron.

It glowed softly orange — the heat barely visible yet unmistakable. Its end bore a single symbol: a stylized A, the same that marked the doors of Alex’s private training wing. His sigil. His identity.

And tonight, it would become hers.

Jenika’s breath came slow and shallow.

This wasn’t punishment.

It was something far worse.

Or far more beautiful.

It was forever.

“You understand what tonight is,” Alex said calmly, voice stripped of emotion.

“Yes, Master,” Jenika whispered.

“This isn’t a game. This isn’t play. After this, there is no going back.”

She swallowed. “I know.”

“You will carry my mark. Not just in spirit. Not just in obedience. In flesh.”

She trembled.

And nodded.

“Say it.”

“I give my body to you, Master. Fully. Permanently.”

“Who owns you?”

“You do.”

“Who will you be when your name is gone?”

“Yours. Only yours.”

Alex stared at her for a moment — searching, calculating, savoring the fear and surrender in her voice. Then he turned, picked up the iron, and walked slowly toward her.

She didn’t move. She didn’t flinch.

But inside, her mind screamed.

Not from pain — from the terrifying truth that she wanted this.

He knelt behind her, pressing a hand to the small of her back.

“I will brand you just above your hip. Where only I will see. Where only I can touch.”

“Yes, Master…”

He pressed the hot metal gently to her skin.

There was no warning.

Only searing heat. Sizzling flesh. The smell, the sound — her body convulsed, her voice breaking into a cry that echoed off the stone walls. Tears burst from her eyes. Her body jolted forward, but the cuffs kept her locked in place.

And then…

It was over.

He pulled the iron away, and for a moment, she collapsed in on herself, panting, shaking, sobbing into the floor. Her skin blistered where the mark now lived — a deep, raw circle with his initial burned into her flesh.

Alex knelt beside her and pressed his hand gently over the wound — not to comfort, but to claim.

“You are mine.”

She sobbed softly. “Yes, Master…”

“No one else will ever touch what belongs to me. No one will ever unmake this.”

He leaned in and whispered it into her hair:

“This is your name now.”

Later, when he released her wrists and wrapped her in a thick black blanket, she didn’t speak. She couldn’t. She simply leaned into his chest, letting his scent flood her lungs, her body still shaking from the pain and the overwhelming weight of submission.

He held her, not tenderly — but possessively.

“You did well,” he murmured.

“I… I’m yours, Master,” she breathed. “I’ll always be yours.”

“You already were,” he said.

“But now the world will know."

To be continued

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