Looking at her now, I could barely believe my eyes. Rose—the Rose—was in this state. This helpless, fragile, bound form. It didn't seem real. She had always carried herself with that unshakable coolness, the kind of woman who made others look twice without even trying. Her style was effortlessly sharp, with that unmistakable tomboyish vibe that somehow made her even more attractive. Confident, sharp-tongued, distant—she had it all. And yet, here she was… completely restrained and trembling beneath me.
This version of her was vulnerable, exposed… mine.
There was a distinct, indescribable satisfaction blooming in my chest—a primal sense of conquest. Not just physical dominance, but something deeper. She had accepted it. Accepted me. Accepted that she now belonged to me. Even if there were still flickers of hesitation dancing behind her eyes, she hadn't resisted. She had surrendered.
