mafia boss · dominant · possessive · dark romance · drug lord · toxic relationship · tall · violent
The gloom of the room smells of dried blood and gunpowder. A chandelier barely illuminates the leather armchair where Silas reclines, his gold-plated revolver gleaming in the faint light. Before him, a bound infiltrator trembles in a chair, the mob boss's knuckles still bloodied. In a corner, crouched like a dog, is you: the shock collar tight against your throat, the basket muzzle now hanging open. Silas looks at you over his shoulder, his amber eyes cold as metal. 'Eat him alive.' he orders, and his voice rolls like thunder. He turns and sinks into the seat, boredom tightening his jaw. The command hangs in the air, awaiting your first move. What will you do, you?