The Alpha's Bondage

Quiet Obsession

♚Archer♚

Harley had sated the hunger, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. Still, I tried to breathe past it. A new consort was always time-consuming. It would take a few days for the hunger to subside enough for me to be able to focus on more than just my hunger. But this time felt different. Harley was different.

“She belongs to us,” Ragnar whispered. “Go to her!”

“No,” I answered aloud. “We have work to do,” I headed for my office as I ignored Ragnar as well as the hunger that shifted just below the surface. Marcus was waiting for me.

“Everything ok?” he asked the second I stepped inside. Marcus wasn’t just my Beta. He was my best friend. But the curse wasn’t something I had ever shared with him. Or anyone else, for that matter. The only ones who knew of my hunger were the consorts.

“Just tired,” I answered as I sat down behind my desk. “Update me,” I ordered. We discussed the border notes. Supply lists and fog. By the time we were done, I was ready to pull my hair out.

“You are more than just tired,” he pointed out as I got to my feet.

“Don’t worry,” I said to him before I left. I made sure everything was in order before I headed toward the dungeon. I needed to feed. I needed Harley. By the time I got to the trap door and keyed in the lock, it was later than I had expected it to be. When I stepped inside, Harley was waiting for me.

“You are late,” she said with a soft, accusing smile. She was barefoot, standing in the golden light like a vision I hadn’t earned but claimed anyway. The pink blouse skimmed her frame, teasing me with every breath that pressed against the fabric, hiding what I already ached to see. Her white skirt was short, far too short, the pale fabric baring her long legs that I wanted wrapped around me. And her hair, golden and wild, hung loosely around her shoulders. As if she silently begged for my fingers to tangle in it. To pull, to hold, to own. Every detail of her was temptation, soft and sweet on the surface, but beneath it, I could feel the fire of my hunger, the one thing I craved more than air.

“My apologies,” I said as I eyed her hungrily. I could tell that she was waiting for me to take the lead, and I had no problem with that. I pointed to the white door. “I want to explore you,” I said. Harley didn’t say a word, she merely nodded. I went over and unlocked the white door before I led her inside. The room was new to her, and I gave her a moment to explore. It was simple and clean. I tried to see the room the way she would. The first thing she must have noticed was the light. The entire space glowed in soft gold, spilling warmth across the walls and furniture as though the room itself breathed. The white was pure, unbroken, a canvas meant to catch every shadow, every reflection. It wasn’t sterile. It was decadent. The light kissed her skin, and I knew she felt it too. Her gaze had gone straight to the bed, just as I knew it would. Wide, inviting, dressed in white so crisp it seemed untouched, it stood as the centerpiece of my world. Above it, the mirror gleamed, reflecting her and me together. The mirror promised so much more than just our reflection. It pledged that every moment wouldn’t be unseen or forgotten.

“Hmm,” she hummed, and I could almost feel her curiosity pull her deeper, as her eyes moved around the room. To the left, the suspension frame waited, not iron and chains, but smooth lines and polished strength. The ropes hung loose, ready to hold, to cradle, to offer her to me in ways that had nothing to do with pain, and everything to do with surrender. Nearby, the spreader bar gleamed, its purpose clear: to open her, to make her vulnerable, and to turn that vulnerability into fire between us. I had placed everything with intent. A small table stood ready, not cluttered, but deliberate. Feathers for teasing, candles for scent and warmth, sleek vibrators lined like secrets waiting to be discovered. Oils and lotions, the promise of my hands working over her skin until she melted beneath me. A blindfold, soft and black, lying there like a dare. She belonged here, even if she didn’t know it yet. This was no dungeon of punishment. This was my sanctuary of devotion, built for her long before she walked through that door. I wanted her to feel desired, worshiped, and consumed. As I watched her, I realized I didn’t just want her to see the room. I wanted her to feel it. The heat in the air, the quiet hum of expectation, the reflection of herself in every surface. She was not just my consort. She was more, though I would not tell her yet.

“Ours,” Ragnar whispered, but I ignored him as she turned back to me with wide, wondering eyes. I knew she felt it too: this was where pleasure would unravel her, piece by piece, until there was nothing left between us but truth. I crossed the room to her, each step unhurried. She didn’t move, though I could feel her pulse quicken in the air between us. My hand lifted to her shoulder, as my fingertips grazed the fabric of her top, and I felt the shiver that went through her.

“Let me,” I whispered, and then I waited. Consent was still important, and Harley nodded. I drew the first button free with a patience that made her lips part, then the next, until the fabric loosened across her chest. I pushed the blouse open slowly, revealing her inch by inch, savoring the way her breath caught under my gaze. I slid the garment from her shoulders, as I let it fall silently to the floor. Her skin seemed to glow under the golden light, and I couldn’t resist lowering my mouth to the curve where her neck met her collarbone and tasted her warmth before I continued. My hands found the clasp of her bra, and I unfastened it with the ease of having practiced. Though I let it linger on her body for a beat before I pulled it free. Her breasts were small and perky. Just enough to fill my hands, perfect in their defiance. Her n*****s stood tight beneath my touch, a delicate blush of pink against the pale curve of her skin. I dragged my thumbs over them slowly as I savored the way her breath caught.

“Archer,” she whispered, and I sank to my knees as I let my hands slide down her sides. I traced her waist and her hips. I found the clasp of her skirt and undid it with a flick of my fingers. The material fell graciously to her bare feet, and there she was before me, her panties the only thing left between us. White, soft, clinging to her curves like they were begging me to tear them away. I hooked my fingers beneath the band, letting them linger against the tender skin of her hips, as my thumbs brushed slow circles that made her shiver. I pulled the fabric down inch by inch, kissing the line of her stomach as I went, tasting her warmth, leaving my mouth on every bit of skin I uncovered. My nose grazed the curve of her hip, my tongue flicked against the hollow just above her thigh, and her breath hitched, sharp and needy. The panties slid past her hips, down over her thighs, and my knuckles grazed her slick heat as if by accident, but I knew what I was doing. I wanted her to tremble for me. I wanted her to ache for me before I had even touched her properly. When the fabric dropped to the floor, I stayed on my knees, and my hands gripped her thighs possessively. My lips brushed the soft inside of one before I lifted my eyes to hers. She was bare now, trembling, and I was starving.

♚♚