Master and Slave Chapter 12: Submission by Choice

Chapter 12: Submission by Choice

The morning sun bled through the curtains like a soft, accusing spotlight.

Jenika lay awake, her head on the silk pillow, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Her body was warm beneath the sheets, but her mind moved with an unease she couldn’t name yet. Something had changed. Something had shifted too far to be undone.

The collar still sat on the velvet tray across the room. Untouched. It stared at her like a question that had no easy answer.

She remembered when it was first fastened around her neck. How the cold leather bit into her skin. How it made her feel small, desirable, owned. She’d mistaken it for affection once. Mistaken power for safety. But now… she couldn’t look at it the same.

Alex sat by the window again, in the same chair he’d claimed the night before, but his posture was different this time. Not guarded. Not looming. There was no command in the line of his spine. Only waiting.

He didn’t look at her. He didn’t need to.

He felt her thoughts across the room like static in the air.

“You’re awake,” he said quietly, still facing the glass.

“Yes.” Her voice was raw from sleep and emotion.

A pause. A quiet inhale.

“I didn’t order you to kneel today,” he murmured.

“No. You didn’t.”

“And yet… you didn’t run.”

Jenika sat up slowly, letting the sheet fall to her waist. She watched his reflection in the glass, noticing the way his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“I didn’t run because I’m not afraid of you anymore,” she said.

Alex finally turned. His eyes were unreadable, but his mouth twitched into the faintest smile.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m terrified of myself.”

She blinked.

“That’s a strange thing for you to say.”

“It’s a strange thing for me to feel.”

Jenika stood, her feet quiet against the cold floor. She crossed the room, step by step, until she stood beside him. The collar on the tray caught her eye again.

“You used to fasten that on me like a ritual,” she said. “Do you want me to wear it again?”

He turned to face her fully, his voice measured.

“Only if you want to. Not because I say so.”

She picked it up, turning it over in her fingers. The buckle. The leather. The tag with her name engraved in silver. Property of Alexander R. It felt heavier now. Not because of its weight—but because of what it used to mean.

“It used to define me,” she said softly. “Now I want it to mean something else.”

Alex stood.

“What do you want it to mean?”

She met his gaze—strong, steady, unflinching.

“That I choose you. That you choose me. That this,” she said, raising the collar between them, “isn’t about submission to power anymore. It’s about submission to trust.”

He reached out slowly, fingers brushing hers as he took the collar. He didn’t move to place it on her—not yet. He looked down at it, like it was sacred.

“I built this world on obedience,” he murmured. “And for the first time, I want to build something on choice.”

She nodded.

“Then start here.”

She turned around and lifted her hair, exposing the bare curve of her neck. Her pulse fluttered visibly beneath her skin. Alex hesitated, then stepped forward.

His hands weren’t rough. They weren’t rushed.

They were reverent.

The leather slid into place like it always had—but this time, it didn’t feel like a shackle.

It felt like a promise.

When he fastened it, he didn’t pull tight. He let it rest, comfortable, symbolic. His fingers lingered there for a second too long, then slid down her spine.

She turned to face him.

“I’m still yours,” she said. “But I’m also mine. Do you understand that?”

“Yes.” He reached up, cupping her jaw. “And I’m no longer just your master. I’m your man. And that’s more terrifying than anything.”

Jenika pressed her forehead against his.

“Then let’s be terrified together.”

They stood like that, foreheads touching, hearts bare. There were no ropes. No restraints. Just breath. And heat. And an understanding that hadn’t existed until now.

“I want to show you something,” Alex said.

Jenika looked up. “What is it?”

He reached into his jacket, which hung on the nearby coat rack. From the inner pocket, he retrieved a small, flat leather-bound notebook. It looked old. Worn. Private.

He handed it to her.

She opened it carefully. Inside were pages of hand-drawn sketches. Her. Her body in motion. Her sleeping form. Her kneeling. Her laughing.

“You drew these?”

“Yes. Over the months. I needed to remember how you looked when you weren’t just doing what I told you.”

She stared at a sketch of herself laughing—caught mid-laughter, head tossed back, completely unaware.

“I never gave you permission to draw me,” she said, a sly smile playing on her lips.

“And you never gave me permission to fall in love with you either,” he replied, equally quiet.

Jenika closed the notebook gently and set it on the windowsill.

“I’m still not sure what this is,” she said. “Not yet. But I know it’s real.”

Alex nodded.

“That’s enough for now.”

Their kiss wasn’t urgent this time. It wasn’t laced with dominance or fire. It was slow, exploratory, like they were tasting a future they didn’t fully understand yet.

When they finally broke apart, she stepped back.

“I still want pain,” she said. “But not because I need to be punished.”

“Why then?”

“Because I want to feel. And because I trust you with that feeling.”

Alex’s throat tightened.

“I can give you that. But it will be different now.”

“Good,” she said. “It should be.”

Later that night, when she lay in his bed, the collar still around her neck, she looked at the mirror across the room. She didn’t see a slave. She didn’t see a master’s pet.

She saw a woman who had reclaimed her body, her voice, her story.

And she saw a man beside her, once terrifying, now trembling in the presence of real intimacy.

For the first time, she didn’t need the collar to remind her of who she belonged to.

Because belonging was no longer about ownership.

It was about choice.

And in that choice… she was finally free.

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