I feel the cold metal of my collar against my skin, a constant reminder of my new reality. I had signed the contract and now, I wait, could be now, or maybe never. The system decided who bought me, who owned me, but until that day, no taxes. I got to live tax free from the moment that collar locked, I was no longer a tax paying citizen. I was just merchandise on a shelf.The beep that echoes through the bookstore signals my salvation and damnation in the form of a large, commanding man. Baxter.
He rushes toward me, his eyes filled with a primal hunger that sends a shiver down my spine. His hands roughly grab my arms, pulling me close as he examines me, his gaze intense and unyielding. I can't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer size of him, the power that radiates off his body.
"You're mine now," he growls, his voice deep and rough. His thumb brushes against the collar, a single drip of his blood and the control was engaged and I feel a jolt of electricity run through me at his touch. I'm his to command, his to use as he sees fit.
He leads me out of the bookstore, his grip tight on my arm. People on the streets shaking their heads, another collared removed from the system, less government money wasted. I can't help but feel a sense of excitement as I follow him, my body tingling with anticipation. I've been waiting for this moment for so long, my training leading up to this very moment, to take the collar you have to serve years if service school, but no bills, no taxes, and after the rules all changed, I had no choice.
As we enter his home, he turns to me, his eyes blazing with hunger. "Undress," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument, the collar filling with heat. I comply, my hands shaking as I remove each piece of clothing, revealing my curves to his gaze.
He watches me, his eyes taking in every inch of my body. "Kneel," he orders, and I obey, my heart pounding in my chest. He approaches me, his fingers tracing the outline of my collar. "Y…
