Chapter 7: The Denial Ritual
Pain became her second skin.
The brand on Jenika’s hip throbbed with every breath, every twitch. Wrapped in nothing but soft linen sheets, she lay on a narrow cot inside a sealed chamber — a place Alex called The Quiet Room. It was soundproof. Windowless. Time didn’t exist here.
There was no mirror. No clock. Just dim lighting and the echo of her heartbeat.
She hadn’t seen Alex in over twelve hours.
Not since he marked her.
He’d left her with two things: a sealed envelope and a warning.
“When you’re ready to be more than mine — when you’re ready to be nothing but mine — open this.”
She stared at the envelope now, fingers trembling. It rested on a pedestal just within reach. She hadn’t touched it. Not yet. Her body still shook from the pain of the brand. Her skin was slick with sweat. Her thighs ached with a desire that refused to fade.
He hadn’t allowed her release since before the ritual.
Three days.
No climax. No touch. Not even her own fingers.
Just silence.
And need.
At hour fifteen, she broke.
Jenika opened the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet of black paper, with red ink in Alex’s precise handwriting:
You will obey.
You will beg.
You will be denied.
Until your desire belongs to me.
Beneath it was a key.
The moment she picked it up, the wall buzzed and slid open. Cold air rushed in, and so did his voice — smooth, powerful, unforgiving.
“Crawl.”
She dropped the paper and obeyed instantly, moving across the floor on all fours, hips swaying, eyes low. Her brand burned with each shift, each movement, a reminder of what she was now.
When she entered the next room, she froze.
It wasn’t just him.
There was a chair in the center. Straps. Mirrors.
And restraints she didn’t recognize.
Alex stood beside it, holding something small and glinting between his fingers.
A chastity device.
Jenika’s breath hitched.
“No, Master…”
“Yes.”
“I — I’ll go mad—”
“That’s the point.”
He gestured to the chair.
“Climb up. Legs wide. Arms behind the back.”
She hesitated. Just one second.
The wrong second.
He crossed the room in three strides, gripped her hair, and forced her gaze upward.
“You don’t get to hesitate,” he growled.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
She climbed into the chair.
He strapped her in — tight. Ankles spread. Wrists locked. Her back arched, her chest rising with panic and hunger. Then, without a word, he knelt between her thighs and secured the device. A cold, polished steel cage, molded exactly to her — it sealed her pleasure away, completely inaccessible.
She sobbed the moment it clicked into place.
“Please… Master… please…”
“Not yet,” he said softly.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t belong to your hunger anymore. You belong to me.”
He stepped back and stared at her.
“I will tease you. Deny you. Touch you, taste you, break you — and you will ache for permission.”
He lifted a small remote.
“And if you beg too soon…”
He pressed the button.
A low vibration pulsed inside the cage.
Jenika gasped.
“Then I punish the need itself.”
The stimulation was maddening — just enough to push her to the edge, never enough to tip her over. Her back arched. Her eyes fluttered. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
And then—
It stopped.
Alex walked away, leaving her trembling in the chair, still strapped down, unable to move.
“You’ll sleep like this,” he said coldly.
“No touching. No begging. No thinking — except of me.”
She nodded, tears running freely now.
“I’m yours, Master… only yours…”
“And you’ll ache for the privilege of release.”
To be continued
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