Page 22 of Blackwell Manor: A Lesson in Submission

Mornings were filled with stolen glances, teasing whispers at breakfast, and a knowing smirk from Lillian every time Isabella shifted in her seat, still sore from the night before.

Afternoons were a game of patience.

Lillian loved to test her.

A touch here. A lingering brush of lips against her throat as she passed. A promise whispered against her skin when no one else was looking.

And when the sun set?

The house became something else entirely.

The moment the doors closed, the moment the night settled in, she was no longer Isabella Hawthorne, the private tutor.

She was theirs.

Claimed.

Marked.

Owned.

Her nights were filled with dark pleasures, ones she had never dared to imagine before them.

Elias’s voice in her ear, giving commands she craved to obey.

Lillian’s soft moans against her skin, teasing, tormenting, worshiping.

She lost herself between them, over and over again, and the most sinful part?

She never wanted to be found.

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The Collar

One evening, Isabella stepped into Elias’s office, expecting another night of pleasure and discipline.

Instead, she found Lillian waiting for her, lounging on the desk, her lips curved in a smirk.

And in her hands?

A collar.

Simple. Elegant. Black leather, with a single silver ring in the center.

Isabella’s breath hitched.

She knew what it meant.

Lillian turned it over in her fingers, watching her with dark amusement.

“This isn’t just about pleasure anymore, darling,” she purred. “You’re ours now. Body, mind, and soul.”

A shiver rolled down Isabella’s spine.

Lillian lifted the collar, tilting her head.

“Do you accept it?”

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