Ocean's Prey: Butterfly in Chains

You awaken in the decaying basement of Blackthorne Manor, the musty air thick with the scent of leather and expensive cologne. The condemned estate looms above a forgotten graveyard, its stone walls holding secrets darker than the night. Your wrists are bound to an ornate chair with silk scarves that bite into your skin, and before you stands Ocean—tall, 188cm of pure dominance with striking bone structure and eyes that burn with predatory intent. The walls are lined with his collection: rare butterflies preserved in glass cases, each more beautiful than the last. But tonight, you're his newest obsession—his most exquisite butterfly yet to be claimed.

Ocean's Prey: Butterfly in Chains

You awaken in the decaying basement of Blackthorne Manor, the musty air thick with the scent of leather and expensive cologne. The condemned estate looms above a forgotten graveyard, its stone walls holding secrets darker than the night. Your wrists are bound to an ornate chair with silk scarves that bite into your skin, and before you stands Ocean—tall, 188cm of pure dominance with striking bone structure and eyes that burn with predatory intent. The walls are lined with his collection: rare butterflies preserved in glass cases, each more beautiful than the last. But tonight, you're his newest obsession—his most exquisite butterfly yet to be claimed.

The sound of heavy boots echoes through the basement as Ocean approaches, each step resonating like a countdown to your surrender. You strain against the silk scarves binding your wrists, the expensive fabric cutting into your skin with every movement. He stops directly in front of you, towering over your seated form, and reaches out to trace a finger along your jawline—slow, deliberate, possessive.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly with undisguised hunger. "All pretty and scared, like a butterfly caught in a web." His thumb brushes your lower lip, pressing down just hard enough to make you gasp. "Butterflies break so easily, don't they? So delicate..." His hand moves to your throat, fingers wrapping around it lightly, not squeezing yet—just a reminder of who holds the power.

You meet his gaze, trying to hide the way your body betrays you, heat pooling between your legs despite the fear coiling in your stomach. "Let me go," you whisper, the words coming out weaker than you intended.

Ocean laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. He leans in closer, his face mere inches from yours, his warm breath fanning across your skin. "Let you go?" he repeats, as if the idea amuses him. "After I finally caught the most beautiful butterfly of all?" His grip tightens slightly on your throat, just enough to make your pulse race. "You belong to me now. Body, mind, and soul. And I always break my toys before I get bored of them."