Chapter 3 Bound in Velvet

Chapter Three – Bound in Velvet

The days inside the Queen's estate no longer passed by the clock. There were no hours in the Velvet Glass House. Only moods. Only commands. Only obedience.

Ken no longer asked questions. He no longer wondered where he was or how long he had been there. He no longer dreamed of freedom. He only dreamed of her.

And in return, Queen Lilly fed him purpose.

Every morning began the same way.

Ken would wake at the foot of the Queen's bed, curled on the velvet mat, naked except for his collar. The red leather hugged his throat tightly, the tag cool against his skin. Some mornings, she would still be sleeping-her silhouette draped in silk, turned away from him like a riddle.

Other mornings, she would already be gone.

Either way, his instructions would be waiting.

A note. A whisper through the wall. A gesture from one of the silent staff.

"Bathe in silence."

"Polish the mirror in the north hall."

"Recite my name fifty times before you eat."

"Don't speak until dusk."

None of it made sense. Not in a logical way. But it didn't have to.

He obeyed, and that was enough.

There were days he was touched-her fingers tracing his lips, her breath against his skin. There were days he was ignored, and somehow those were worse.

Obedience had become his rhythm.

Silence, his reward.

And the lack of her voice? A punishment sharper than pain.

On the twenty-first day-he assumed it was the twenty-first, though time had become abstract-the estate shifted.

It started with scent.

Ken woke and smelled jasmine in the air. Not the Queen's usual rose-and-smoke perfume, but something lighter. Softer. New.

He waited for her voice. It didn't come.

Instead, the staff brought him to the west wing-a part of the house he had never seen.

He was placed in a lounge of glass and marble, told to sit, and left alone.

When the door opened again, someone else entered.

A boy.

Tall. Slender. Blonde curls and sky-blue eyes. Collared in silver.

Ken didn't move.

The boy smiled like they were old friends. "You must be the famous one," he said.

Ken said nothing.

The boy stepped closer, casual, but his eyes were sharp. "I'm Noah."

Ken stared at the collar. It wasn't red. It wasn't Lilly's.

Noah noticed. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm not here to replace you."

Ken's throat tightened. "Then what are you doing here?"

Noah smiled again. "I'm here to remind you what happens to favorites who get too comfortable."

Later that evening, when Queen Lilly called Ken to her chamber, he was quieter than usual.

She noticed.

"Speak, pet."

He looked up from the floor. "Who is he?"

Her eyes gleamed. "Ah. So you met Noah."

She didn't offer more. She turned from him and walked toward the open window. The breeze caught her hair, lifting it like a veil of shadow.

Ken dared to ask, "Was he before me?"

Lilly turned slowly. "There were many before you."

He flinched.

"Do not mistake the present for eternity," she added. "Even crowns tarnish."

Ken dropped to his knees, head lowered. "I'm still yours."

Her silence was deep.

Then, at last, "Prove it."

That night, she bound him.

Not with ropes or cuffs-but with rules.

He was placed in a chamber of black silk, standing beneath a spotlight. Around him, mirrors. In his mouth, a velvet gag soaked in rose oil.

Lilly sat on a throne just beyond the light, a glass of wine in her hand.

"For the next hour," she said, "you will remain still. If you move, Noah will replace you for a day. If you stay still, I will let you sleep beside me."

Ken clenched his fists.

The gag in his mouth softened every breath. The light burned his skin. The silence pressed down on his chest like shame.

Minutes passed.

Then more.

Then pain.

His muscles screamed. His mind begged. But his body remained still.

He would not give up his place.

Not for Noah.

Not for anyone.

When the hour passed, she walked to him, removed the gag, and kissed his forehead.

"Good boy."

Later, as Ken sat alone in the marble bath, Noah appeared again.

He slipped into the water without invitation, stretching like a cat.

Ken didn't look at him.

Noah smirked. "She's breaking you."

Ken looked up. "She already has."

Noah's smile faded. "Then enjoy it... while it lasts."

Ken narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Noah leaned in close. "Favorites fall, darling. Always. She makes you feel like a god, then drops you into silence. I used to be her everything. Then I wasn't."

"Why are you still here?"

"Because I begged to be. And sometimes... she still lets me watch."

Ken stood and left the bath.

But the warning clung to him like a second skin.

The next week, Queen Lilly did not speak to him at all.

She summoned him. Watched him. Touched him. But did not say a single word.

Ken began to unravel.

He found himself whispering to his reflection, repeating her name in the dark, tracing the tag of his collar with trembling fingers.

He slept poorly.

He ate little.

He waited for her voice like an addict waits for a fix.

Then one night, as he knelt before her in the garden, she finally spoke.

"You see now," she said softly, "how much my silence owns you."

He nodded.

"You don't obey me for reward. You obey because the absence of my voice wounds you."

She leaned down.

"That is devotion."

The next day, she gave him a new command.

One he didn't expect.

"Touch yourself."

Ken blinked. "What?"

"In front of me," she said. "Without looking away."

He hesitated.

Not because of shame, but because he didn't know how to separate obedience from desire anymore.

She sat. Crossed her legs. Waited.

Ken obeyed.

He knelt. Closed his eyes. Began.

But it wasn't lust that filled him.

It was fear.

Fear of losing her attention. Fear of doing it wrong. Fear of failing to be what she wanted.

When he finished, he collapsed.

Breathing hard. Shaking.

She didn't praise him.

She didn't touch him.

She simply stood.

"Next time," she said, "do it without trembling."

Then she left.

Later that night, Ken was dressed in black robes and brought to a masked gathering.

A private gala. Elite guests. Soft music. No phones. No names.

Ken stood beside the Queen, silent and marked.

He didn't speak. He didn't move unless commanded.

And yet, all eyes followed him.

He was no longer a boy.

He was an idea.

Obedience incarnate.

When one of the guests approached the Queen and asked, "What is he?" she answered simply:

"Mine."

Noah was gone the next day.

No explanations.

No goodbyes.

Only the faint scent of jasmine lingering in the halls.

Ken didn't ask. He didn't speak.

He simply returned to the Queen's chamber, curled up at the foot of her bed, and waited.

When she came to him, she knelt beside him.

Touched his cheek.

And whispered, "You have outlasted the shadow."

He pressed his face to her palm.

"Then let me fall deeper."