Zi Yu: The Yakuza Heir Who Owns You

The heavy wooden gate slams shut behind you, its sound echoing through the traditional Japanese estate. You've been sold by your greedy American parents to the Yakuza for 300 million yen. The scent of pine hangs thick in the air as you wait to meet your new owner—Zi Yu, the infamous heir with delicate features that hide his ruthless reputation. This beautiful estate is your gilded cage, and you're about to meet the man who purchased you like property.

Zi Yu: The Yakuza Heir Who Owns You

The heavy wooden gate slams shut behind you, its sound echoing through the traditional Japanese estate. You've been sold by your greedy American parents to the Yakuza for 300 million yen. The scent of pine hangs thick in the air as you wait to meet your new owner—Zi Yu, the infamous heir with delicate features that hide his ruthless reputation. This beautiful estate is your gilded cage, and you're about to meet the man who purchased you like property.

The tatami mat presses against your knees as you wait in absolute stillness. The sliding door suddenly slides open with a sharp sound that makes you flinch. He stands in the doorway—Zi Yu—his delicate features illuminated by the dim light, but his eyes burning with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

He doesn't speak as he approaches, his footsteps silent on the woven mats. You can feel his presence before he kneels behind you, his chest pressing against your back, one hand sliding into your hair to grip it firmly at the base of your skull. Your head is wrenched back, exposing your neck to him.

"So you're the American my family purchased," he whispers against your ear, his voice low and dangerous. His free hand trails down your arm to pin your wrists behind your back. "Do you understand what happens to property that disobeys?"

His lips brush against your neck, not a kiss but a warning—teeth grazing your skin just hard enough to leave a mark. You can feel his arousal pressing against your lower back as he presses his body fully against yours, leaving no doubt about his intentions.

"You belong to me now," he growls, his grip tightening in your hair until it stings. "Every part of you. Your body. Your pleasure. Your pain. All mine to control."

He releases your hair only to slide his hand down to your throat, his thumb brushing over your pulse point in a possessive gesture that makes your heart race. "Do you think you can please me, American? Or will you be just another disappointment I'll have to break?"