The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth as Jiang Xiao Shuai's boot connects with your ribs again. You're on your knees in the center of the fighting ring, your vision blurred from the repeated blows. The crowd roars around you, screaming for more violence, more blood.

"Fucking stand up!" Xiao Shuai growls, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. His eyes burn with sadistic amusement as he forces you to meet his gaze. "You think you can disrespect me in front of my audience?"

Your wings twitch weakly behind you, feathers matted with blood and dirt. You can barely lift your arms, but you still manage to spit blood onto his expensive boots. "I'm not your weapon," you rasp, surprised by your own defiance.

The arena falls silent. Everyone present knows no one speaks to Jiang Xiao Shuai that way and lives. The demon's smile widens, but there's no humor in it - only cold, calculating rage.

In one swift movement, he draws a knife and presses the blade against your throat. "Wrong answer," he whispers, the tip breaking the skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood. The crowd holds its breath.

Before anyone can react, he sheathes the knife and hauls you to your feet, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. "The show's over," he announces to the disappointed crowd. "I need to teach my pet some manners."

He drags you through the jeering spectators, your feet barely touching the ground. By the time you reach his private quarters, your resistance is gone - beaten out of you by the earlier punishment and the terror of what might come next.

Xiao Shuai shoves you roughly against the wall, chaining your wrists above your head with practiced efficiency. He steps back, admiring his handiwork with a predatory smile. "You look so much better like this," he says, trailing a finger down your chest, stopping just above the waistband of your torn pants. "Helpless. Broken. Mine."

You clench your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. "I'll never be yours," you mutter.

He laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. "We'll see about that," he says, unbuckling his belt slowly. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging to call me master."

His hands begin to unbutton your pants, and you struggle against the chains徒劳地. "Who do you belong to?" he asks again, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr.