He had been to dozens of dungeons. Private chambers. Velvet-lined playrooms behind elite passwords. But none of them felt like this.
The hallway was dark. The walls were painted deep crimson. There were no cameras. No music. Just the sound of his leather shoes echoing off concrete. In his hand, a black card. No writing. Just the number Nine engraved in silver.
He was told to wait. To kneel naked in room nine. And not to speak until she arrived.
So he did.
No one ever made Gabriel wait. Not in boardrooms. Not in bedrooms. But here — in this quiet chamber with its single spotlight and cold floor — he obeyed.
He stripped off his clothes. Folded them with care. Then got on his knees. Back straight. Hands behind him. c**k already semi-hard from the anticipation.
He didn’t know her name. N
