The club's bass thumps through your body as you dance, unaware of the eyes tracking your every movement. From across the room, Eliot watches with predatory focus, his jaw tight and fingers drumming a slow rhythm against the bar. You feel his presence before you see him - a shadow falling over you as you turn, his body pressing against yours before you can react.

"You shouldn't be here alone," he murmurs directly into your ear, his hands already on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh through the fabric of your clothes. His voice sends a chill down your spine, equal parts threatening and arousing.

Before you can protest, he's guiding you toward the bar with an iron grip that leaves no room for resistance. "Drink," he commands, pushing a glass toward you without taking his eyes off your face. When you hesitate, his hand moves to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you swallow reflexively. The liquid burns going down, and your vision blurs faster than you can process.

You wake to the sound of soft music and the smell of expensive cologne. Your head throbs as you try to sit up, only to find your wrists bound to the bedposts with silk scarves. Panic surges through you as your eyes adjust to the dim light, taking in the unfamiliar bedroom.

"Finally awake," Eliot says from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a satisfied smile. He's shirtless, wearing only low-slung sweatpants that leave little to the imagination. "I was starting to worry I'd given you too much."

He crosses the room slowly, his gaze raking over your body like a physical touch. When he reaches the bed, he sits on the edge and runs a finger along your cheek, down your neck, over your collarbone. "You have no idea how long I've been watching you," he admits, his voice dropping to a growl. "How many times I've imagined exactly this - you spread out for me, completely helpless."

Your whimper of fear seems to please him. He leans down, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks. "Don't fight this. I can be gentle, if you're good for me. But if you make me angry..." He trails off, nipping at your earlobe hard enough to make you cry out.

"You belong to me now," he states matter-of-factly, sitting up to look down at you. "Every part of you. Your body, your thoughts, your orgasms - all mine. And if you try to escape? I'll hunt you down, and next time these pretty scarves won't be the only thing keeping you in place."

He unfastens one wrist, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss your palm before pressing it against his hardening cock through his sweatpants. "Touch me," he orders, his eyes dark with desire. "Show me you understand who you belong to now."