Chapter 32
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Emma
Own me.
The words echoed through my mind—equal parts terror and temptation.
The idea of giving myself to a man, of letting go so completely, was something I’d never allowed myself to want. It went against everything I’d built—every wall, every defense—but still, my heart stuttered at the thought.
To be owned.
Not as property, but as something cherished.
To be wanted so fiercely that someone would claim me—not to cage me, but to protect what he saw.
It was terrifying.
And intoxicating.
Across from me, Damien still looked pale, a sheen of sweat catching the light at his temple. But color was returning—gradually, stubbornly.
And then I saw it.
A flicker behind his control. A glint that betrayed everything he felt.
Need.
Want.
An aching hunger he couldn’t hide.
He needed this.
Needed me.
And maybe, just maybe, I was beginning to realize I might need it, too.
“What about punishments?”
He tilted his head, studying me carefully.
I kept my face blank. My posture still. I needed his truth, not a redacted version.
“Punishments come with the territory,” he said.
Not a threat.
Not a lure.
A simple fact.
“Can you give me an example?” I asked. “One that would apply to… my rules.”
Rules.
The word felt wrong on my tongue.
“Okay.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “For example, if we agreed you’d have salmon and rice for dinner, and you ignored that and grabbed a burger instead… then the punishment might be eating salmon and rice for the rest of the week.”
A laugh slipped out before I could catch it. “That’s it? What if I ignore that, too?”
“Then,” his voice dropped, “I’d have to increase the severity.”
Something warm stirred low in my stomach.
“And in that example,” he continued, “you’d lose the rice. Just salmon.”
I blinked. “No spanking?”
“Not unless that’s something you want,” he said gently. “Or agree to beforehand.”
“Oh.”
The word came out quiet. Breathless.
Everything was clicking into place—clearer than I expected.
“So…” I swallowed. “If I agree? Then you own me?”
He went still.
Utterly still.
“That’s a very big decision, Emma,” he said, voice low.
“It’s more than a title. It means you’re under my protection.
My care. It’s a commitment—not casual, not unclear.
It’s devotion. A mutual bond. I take responsibility for you, and you offer trust. Obedience.
” He let that settle. “But you always keep the choice. You can walk away at any time, or we can stop completely and go back to being just us.”
The faint downturn of his mouth on the last line told me exactly how much he’d hate that—and how completely he’d respect it.
The tension in my shoulders eased, but my pulse quickened.
“I…” My voice cracked. “I might want that.”
His mouth parted in disbelief, awe flickering across his features.
Something in my chest cracked at the hope in his face.
His voice dropped, low and careful. “Don’t tease me, Emma.”
“I’m not.” Heat crept into my cheeks. “It feels… comforting. I wouldn’t feel alone ever again.”
There it was. The truth I kept buried deeper than anything else. Loneliness was my oldest, cruelest companion. And this—this bond—felt like the first thing in years that could drown it out.
A tentative smile curved his lips. “No. You’ll never be alone again.”
I smiled back—just as tentative. Just as real.
He laughed softly, hand raking through his hair. “I’m going to be honest—I never thought we’d be having this conversation.” His voice was rough with wonder. “But holy hell, Emma. The thought of you wearing my collar—my ownership—allowing me to guide you, to help you—”
“Collar?” I cut in.
“A collar is a symbol of ownership. It’s worn like jewelry. Something subtle. Meaningful. Only noticeable to those in the lifestyle.”
I raised a brow. “Damien, I can’t go to work wearing a dog collar.”
He laughed—deep and honest. “Nothing like that. Think necklace. Something elegant. A symbol, not a leash.”
I exhaled, settling into his words, letting the idea of it—of all of it—unfurl in my mind without fear.
This wasn’t about sex.
This was about choosing something—someone—who offered stability, care, and something like peace.
Something I hadn’t felt in years.
Something I didn’t know I was allowed to want.
His smile faded into something steadier, something that reached into the places I kept hidden. “Emma,” he said. “You don’t have to decide anything right now.”
I nodded, grateful for the space he gave without stepping back from me.
“I know,” I whispered. “But I want to think about it. I want to understand it.”
“And I’ll help you,” he promised. “You set the pace.”
My heart fluttered—nervous, hopeful, terrified.
“Damien… what happens next?”
His answer was simple.
Gentle.
“We take it one step at a time.”
And God help me—for the first time, I wanted to follow.