Price For Submission

Title: You're Mine, for Just Me

All I ever wanted was enough money to pay my bills, but I never expected fate to be so cruel. Did I really have to endure all this just to cover some expenses? Why has life been so unforgiving?

I'm Stella Martins. I lived with my once abusive father, and when he fell ill, we were told it was PTSD. And now, it's my responsibility to care for him.

One morning, I woke up to the shocking news-I was getting married. To whom? What the hell was happening? I rushed to find my father, hearing rumors that he was about to sign some sort of contract. My legs couldn't carry me far enough. It would have been better to lose them than have them be this useless.

When I got home after work, I found my father sitting, crying. He lifted his head when he saw me. "Sweetie, I'm sorry. I had to save you."

"What the-?!" I cursed. Save me? He sold me! I thought he was crying because the men had rejected me, but that wasn't the case.

I couldn't hold back any longer. I ran as far as my feet could take me, hoping fate would somehow intervene and tear up that cursed contract. I reached the lower streets, but no cars or people matched my father's descriptions. Breaking into sobs, I was startled when a car suddenly sped past me.

"Hey, princess. Late, isn't it? Need a ride for some adventure tonight?"

Normally, I'd have kicked the guy so hard if he was standing, but the reality was, whoever my father had signed me off to, they weren't going to take my dignity. And they were coming for me the next day. No way! I screamed inside my head.

"Miss? You getting in?" The man repeated.

I stayed silent.

"I'll be off then," his deep voice said, as he started to roll up the window. I quickly stopped it with my palm.

"Wait... Let's go," I whispered, biting my lip.

"Oh, well then," his voice sounded amused, though I couldn't clearly see his face in the dark.

"Wait, I've never done this before," I told him, confronting him, but he was already too far into it. Before I knew it, he had gotten what he wanted.

Hmph. Sighs from both of us followed the heat of the moment. It wasn't bad, actually.

I fell asleep in his arms, his breath sweeping over me, lulling me into safety. He made me feel like I was his.

The next morning, I woke up to the scent of his cologne, a reminder of the night we had.

Oh, shit! A one-night stand? I groaned inwardly. It wasn't that bad, I guessed. I hurried to take a cold shower, wanting to leave as quickly as possible. But... my panties were missing.

I searched the table, the floor, even his clothes. Nothing.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath.

"Looking for this?" His voice whispered in my ear, sending a shiver through me. I turned, suddenly shy and curling under his influence.

"Oh... yeah," I stammered, feeling my face flush.

He didn't respond, just looked away. I scanned the room, making sure I was still safe. He wasn't even looking at me.

"Your name?" he asked, his eyes still elsewhere.

I felt insulted. "Wait, no... I'm not a sex worker, okay? You've got the wrong idea!"

I turned to the door, gripping the knob, but it wouldn't open. I couldn't find the keys either.

I shot him a questioning look, but he was too damn handsome, with his perfectly tousled hair, his abs, and that face-so distracting that I even considered cleaning his shoes.

"Drooling?" His cold voice mocked me.

"Uh... hi. Stella," I managed to say, a bit embarrassed.

What the hell? I cursed inwardly. I glanced at the table and saw an envelope. Anger flared up inside me.

"I am not a sex worker!" I yelled.

I grabbed my panties from his hand, got dressed quickly, and stormed out, furious. I didn't want to go home, but I had to. The embarrassment of the night before lingered in my mind, but there was also a small, stupid grin when I thought of his face. I shook it off.

Then... I saw it. The brown envelope.

How creepy! He had snuck it into my bag.

I opened it reluctantly.

"You're mine! For just me," the note read. I laughed bitterly.

No way. That wasn't happening.

As I neared my front door, I heard the screeching of tires. A familiar, yet unfamiliar car pulled up. I shrugged it off until my father rushed out, his face turning red with... guilt?

He ran down the stairs toward the car.

"Mr. Will!" he bowed nervously.

My interest piqued. I turned to see who my father had sold me to. This man-this Mr. Williams.

The car doors opened, and men in suits stepped out. They escorted a man dressed in the finest suit I had ever seen. His presence was overwhelming, intimidating even... but oddly familiar.

"Who is this Mr. Williams?" I muttered.

The man kept his face down until he looked up at me... and there he was.

The guy from last night.

"What?!" I gasped, gripping the little note from the envelope.

The words echoed in my mind:

**"YOU'RE MINE, FOR JUST ME!"**

"Who was this Mr. Williams?" I muttered. It was strange seeing my father tremble at the sight of him, his whole body stiff, almost like a millipede curling in fear. The sun glaring down on his bald head only seemed to make it worse, as if he was silently praying for it to dry him out. They exchanged words in hushed tones, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Suddenly, the man glanced up at me.

It was the guy from last night.

"What?!" I muttered, clutching the small piece of paper from the envelope. "You're mine, for just me!" was scrawled on it. I squeezed the note in frustration, biting my lip as he motioned me over with just his finger. How disrespectful! But still, I obliged, ashamed of how I'd compromised myself last night, even though I barely knew him.

"He won't get my dignity this way," I muttered, secretly hoping that being with someone else would undo this disaster. Fate, however, had other plans. Here I was, staring into the eyes of someone who betrayed me, and I couldn't help but laugh bitterly. This wasn't how I'd envisioned my future. I'd always dreamed of getting married at 23, but not like this. Bride for sale? The thought made me laugh, tears welling up in my eyes.

We were already in his car by now, and the only sound was my bitter laughter. Two dangerous-looking men sat in the front seat, with a fleet of cars following behind us. How proud must he be to flaunt his wealth like this? I laughed again, this time a tear escaping.

I could feel his cold, cutting gaze on me.

**Mr. Williams' POV**

"Shouldn't you at least compose yourself?" I snapped. Her laughter irritated me, though I tried to shake off the feeling. As much as I tried to deny it, her beauty was undeniable, and the memory of last night only made it harder to control myself. I had to fight back those urges-at least for now. Perhaps that's why she laughed so sarcastically.

Her blue dress clung tightly to her, with her back partially exposed, and I couldn't help but feel my desire intensify. My lips twitched, remembering the way I'd had her before. But now, she rolled her eyes, as if she thought I was someone she could easily toy with after last night. Who throws themselves at a stranger just because they're feeling impulsive? I couldn't lie, though-I was glad we crossed paths. But what if someone else had gotten to her first? I couldn't even imagine.

Her phone rang, and I caught a glimpse of the name on the screen. Kelvin? Fury bubbled inside me. I barked at the two men up front, "Get out! Now!" Carmen, one of them, started to protest, concerned for my safety, but I shut him down. Who on earth questions me? My power is absolute. With a single glare, both men scrambled away like frightened children.

Now it was just the two of us.

"Your name?" I asked, trying to get her attention.

"Someone who buys a wife should already know that," she replied bluntly. "Besides, I told you last night, though you were too busy to remember."

Her sharp tone cut through the silence.

"For someone with such a name, you're hardly worth it," I shot back, provoking her.

"Huh?" she looked confused.

"Promiscuous, a wife for hire, is that what you think of yourself?" I replied coldly, my words stinging. She wanted to retort, but I shut her down with a look.

**Stella's POV**

"My place, my rules!" he declared, his voice filled with authority. I was taken aback. He was too sharp-tongued for someone of his status.

Before I could even process what was happening, he handed me another envelope-this one broader and heavier than the last. My hands trembled as I opened it, and I couldn't hold back the tears. I wanted to go back home and confront my father-stab him, even. What a scumbag!

Inside the envelope, I read the chilling words:

*That body is mine. I can do with it what I like. Remember, you're nothing but my plaything. Once you step into my domain, there's no going back. You're restricted in movement unless I allow it, just like my other toys.*

Was that it? What the hell... Before I could gather my thoughts, a car screeched to a halt in front of us. Armed men stepped out, weapons drawn, their eyes locked on us. My heart raced, and I barely had time to react before I was yanked from the car. I fell to my knees, sobbing like a child being scolded, my body trembling uncontrollably. I pressed my hands to my ears, trying to block out the chaos.

All I could hear were the grunts of struggle and the clash of weapons. Then, suddenly-silence.

"Are they all dead?" I muttered through shaky breaths. I looked up to see him-he had taken down every one of them. My subconscious smirked at the thought: not only was he good in bed, but he was lethal in combat too. But the fear crept back in as I realized how many bodies lay around us.

"You plan to bury them all yourself?" came his cold, familiar voice.

Still shaking, I ran to him. Sitting in the car next to him, I finally felt a small sense of safety. The drive was cold, silent, and utterly tense.

When we arrived at his home, I was struck by its opulence-from the roof to the chandeliers, everything screamed luxury. Yet the place felt empty, as if no one really lived there. The maids and bodyguards were practically invisible, moving in silence.

Then, a sharp sound broke the quiet-*crash!*-a maid had broken something. I watched as she scrambled to clean up the mess, trembling.

"How dare you?!" his voice boomed, echoing through the house.

"Fired!" he said in a low tone, and the maid fell at his feet, groveling, kissing his shoes and begging for mercy.

"Master, please, have mercy!" her voice cracked with age.

Why endure such humiliation?

"Williams!" I shouted, surprised at my own courage. I couldn't explain why I did it, but it felt like something I had to do.

"Leave!" he growled, his voice cold, but the old woman scurried away.

"And you!" he turned to me, fury in his eyes. "What gives you the audacity to interfere with my decisions?"

"Am I not your wife?" I replied, meeting his gaze. "Your home, your rules, but in my presence, there will be mercy."

He seemed shocked by my boldness. "You're no different from the rest of them," he hissed. "Just another toy, a slave like everyone else."

"Now strip off!"

Chapter 3: The Price of Defiance

I stared at him, refusing to let the anger building inside me show on my face. His command to strip was cold, commanding, as if I was nothing more than an object. But I wasn't going to let him see me break. Not this time.

"Didn't you hear me?" he repeated, his tone growing darker. "Strip."

I stood still, my heart racing but my feet planted firmly in defiance. His eyes narrowed, fury mixing with something darker-desire. I knew he wanted me to submit, to watch me fall to pieces in front of him. He thrived on control.

"You think I'm afraid of you, don't you?" I asked, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside. "You think that because you have power, because you've bought me, that you own me completely."

A slow, cruel smile crept across his face. "You *are* mine," he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But I won't break," I continued, ignoring his words. "You might have my body, but you'll never have all of me."

His smile faltered for a second, just long enough for me to see it. He wasn't used to being challenged. I had crossed a line, and now I was going to pay the price.

Without warning, he grabbed my arm, pulling me toward him. His grip was firm, painful, but I held my ground, refusing to flinch. His face was close to mine, and I could feel the heat of his anger radiating from him.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he whispered, his voice low and menacing. "And you're going to lose."

But just as quickly as the anger flared, he let go of my arm, turning his back to me. I stood there, stunned by his sudden shift, as he walked over to the large window that overlooked the estate. His hands rested on the sill, and for a moment, he said nothing, just staring out into the distance.

"What do you want?" he asked finally, his voice now calm, almost detached.

The question caught me off guard. "What do I want?"

"Yes," he said, turning back to face me. "You clearly think you can challenge me, that you can somehow change the situation you're in. So, tell me, what do you want? What will make you stop resisting?"

I hesitated. This wasn't the reaction I expected. Part of me wondered if it was a trap, if he was trying to lure me into saying something he could use against me later. But there was something in his eyes-something almost vulnerable. It was fleeting, but I saw it. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as invincible as he seemed.

"I want my freedom," I said, finally finding my voice. "I want to be free from all of this-free from you."

He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Freedom? Do you think I'm just going to hand that to you? After everything?"

"You asked what I wanted," I shot back. "That's my answer."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, he looked almost human, not the cold, controlling figure I'd known since this nightmare began.

"You have no idea what kind of world you've stepped into, do you?" he said softly. "No idea of the forces at play."

I frowned, confused. "What are you talking about?"

He turned to face me again, his eyes hardening. "This isn't just about you and me. There are people-powerful people-who want to see me fall. People who would use you to get to me."

I felt a chill run down my spine. "What do you mean?"

"Do you think I brought you here because I wanted to?" he continued, his voice growing colder. "Do you think I had a choice?"

I didn't know how to respond. This was the first time he had hinted that there was more to this than just his twisted sense of control. And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was still manipulating me, still trying to bend me to his will.

Before I could say anything, the door to the room swung open, and Carmen, his loyal bodyguard, stepped inside, his expression grim.

"Sir," Carmen said, his voice low. "They're here."

Williams' face darkened instantly, all traces of vulnerability vanishing. "How many?"

"Too many," Carmen replied. "We have to go. Now."

Williams looked at me, his eyes cold again. "Stay here."

I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could speak, he was already out the door, Carmen following close behind. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving me alone in the massive, empty room.

I felt a surge of panic. Who were "they"? And why was Williams suddenly so worried? For the first time since this ordeal began, I felt truly afraid. Whatever was happening, it was bigger than I had imagined. And I was caught in the middle of it.

I walked over to the window and peered out, my breath catching in my throat. A convoy of black SUVs was pulling up the long driveway, men in dark suits spilling out of the vehicles, armed and clearly not here for a friendly visit.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me, and I turned to see Carmen standing in the doorway again. He looked different this time-his usually composed demeanor replaced with urgency.

"You need to come with me," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Where's Williams?" I asked, backing away from the window.

"He's dealing with it," Carmen said. "But if you want to survive, you'll come with me. Now."

I hesitated, but the look in his eyes told me I didn't have much of a choice. Nodding, I followed him out of the room, my heart racing. We made our way down a series of narrow corridors, the opulence of the mansion giving way to a more utilitarian, almost bunker-like section of the house.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to keep up with Carmen's fast pace.

"Someplace safe," he replied shortly. But there was a tension in his voice that made me doubt we'd find safety anywhere in this house.

As we turned a corner, a loud explosion rocked the building, and the floor beneath us shook. I stumbled, nearly falling, but Carmen grabbed my arm, pulling me forward.

"Move!" he barked, dragging me down the hall. We reached a heavy metal door at the end of the corridor, and Carmen hurriedly punched in a code, the door swinging open with a loud hiss.

"Get inside," he ordered.

I hesitated for a split second, but another explosion, this one closer, pushed me into action. I darted inside, and Carmen followed, sealing the door behind us.

The room was dimly lit, filled with security monitors and control panels. Carmen moved quickly, checking the feeds.

"Who are they?" I asked, my voice shaky.

"Enemies," Carmen said grimly, not taking his eyes off the screens. "Of Williams. Of us all."