Chapter 318: Chapter-318

Elara could not feel emotion; that was an absolute, clinical truth. In her first life as a CEO and now as a princess, her heart remained a silent machine, untouched by the “troublesome” feelings of love, empathy, or fear. But even for her, there was a glitch in the system. At certain moments, she felt a strange, intoxicating rush inside her—a feeling so sharp and clear that she wished to experience it again and again.

It only happened when she was in a state of utter dominance. When she was the one on top, when she was the one ruling, and when the person beneath her had completely surrendered their will to her—that was when the pleasure hit. It was the only thing that filled the heavy emptiness of being alexithymic. Without work or a goal to chase, sitting and staring out a window became a burden. Being empty was heavy. But this? This made the silence in her head vanish.

Elara had a perfect record: every man she had ever tamed never dared to betray her. Richard had been the exception only because he was her father figure; she hadn’t treated him like a project to be mastered, and that was a mistake she wouldn’t make again. From the very first day she woke up in this world, the beast knights had been in her sights. She had seen their strength and their hidden cracks, and her mind had immediately begun building the plan to own them.

Mahir had been the first to break, and as she lay there, she thought about the glimpse of light that had flashed in her eyes during his “correction.” Not feeling love or guilt was a massive advantage. It allowed her to be a surgeon with human souls. The best part about these beast knights was their durability; they didn’t break easily. Elara could spend the afternoon tearing down their pride, and by the evening, their bodies were as good as new, ready for more.

Seeing her plan succeed brought a rare spark to her dark world. To hell with the Regency, and to hell with the merchant work for a moment. This was the real game. She wasn’t just managing accounts or palace politics anymore; she was managing the very blood and breath of the strongest warriors in the kingdom. As she looked at the ceiling, she knew she had finally found a hobby that could keep the boredom away. She was happy, in her own cold way. The hunt for the others would be even better.

The candle by the balcony flickered, casting long, dancing shadows against the stone walls. Time had slipped away into the late hours of the night. When Mahir finally opened his eyes, the heavy fog of exhaustion had started to lift. His body ached—his skin was tender from the belt and his muscles were stiff from being bound—but the resilience of a beast knight was no joke. He was already recovering, the blood in his veins humming with a strange, new energy.

He stayed still for a moment, watching Elara. She was silhouetted against the dark balcony doors, sitting in a plush chair with a single candle lighting the pages of her book. She looked so peaceful, so detached, as if the intense hours they had just shared were nothing more than a minor chore she had finished.

Feeling his gaze, Elara didn’t even look up from her page. “Woke up?” she asked, her voice cool and dry. “Then get lost. I’m done with you for today.”

Mahir didn’t move to leave. Instead, a daring, playful light sparked in his golden eyes. He sat up slowly, the silk sheets sliding off his scarred chest. He looked at her back, feeling a surge of boldness he had never felt before.

“What, Your Highness?” he challenged, his voice raspy but steady. “Got tired already?”

The room went silent. The only sound was the crackle of the candle wick. Elara paused. She slowly closed her book and turned her head just enough to look at him over her shoulder. One of her eyebrows arched in a sharp, dangerous line.

“Oh?” she murmured. “You still have the energy to play more?”

Mahir let out a low, breathy laugh. He climbed out of the bed, naked and unashamed, and knelt on the cold floor, looking up at her with a mix of hunger and worship. “Of course. Have you forgotten? We were made for you.”

Those words hit Elara’s sensitive spot. It was the absolute truth she craved—the idea that these powerful warriors existed solely as tools for her will. She slammed the book onto the table with a loud thud and stood up, her dark eyes flashing with that rare, hungry light.

“Fine,” she said, her voice dropping to a predatory whisper. “If you want to be a toy so badly, I’ll break you until you forget your own name.”

She didn’t use the bed this time. She grabbed him by the hair and dragged him toward the heavy wooden desk. She pushed him down onto his stomach across the hard surface, his chest pressing against the cold wood. His hard cock hung down the edge of the desk, already leaking clear drops onto the floor from the sight of her taking control.

“Hands behind your back,” she commanded.

As soon as he obeyed, she used the leather belt to tie his wrists together, pulling the notch tight until he groaned. She wasn’t being gentle. She picked up a heavy glass paperweight from her desk—it was smooth and cold. She started to run it along his spine, the chill of the glass clashing with the heat of his skin. She pressed it harder, rolling it down to the base of his tail, then back up, letting the heavy weight push deep into his sore muscles until he groaned louder.

“You think because you heal fast, you can challenge me?” she asked, her voice mocking.

She leaned over him, pressing her whole body against his back. She wasn’t looking for romance; she was looking for total control. She reached for a silk cord and looped it around his neck, holding both ends like a leash. She pulled back just enough to force his chin up, making him gasp for air. The cord tightened around his neck, cutting off a little breath each time she tugged.

With her free hand, she began to toy with him, her touch firm and demanding. She grabbed his hard cock and stroked it slow and cruel, squeezing the swollen head until more clear liquid dripped out in long strings. She watched the way his body reacted—the way his tail lashed in a frantic rhythm and the way his breath came in jagged sobs of pleasure and pain. She moved with a cold, rhythmic force, driving him to the very edge of cumming, then stopping completely. She edged him again and again, stroking fast then stopping, stroking slow then stopping, until his cock turned dark red and throbbed painfully in her hand.

She lit the candle again and tipped it over his back while still holding the cord leash. Hot wax dripped down. Drip. Drip. Drip. Each drop burned his already tender skin from the earlier lesson. Mahir’s body jerked hard against the desk. The cold paperweight in her other hand now pressed down on his balls, squashing them gently but firmly while the wax kept falling on his spine and bottom.

“Tell me, slave,” she hissed into his ear as she tightened the cord slightly. “Who owns your breath?”

“You…” Mahir gasped, his face flushed a deep, burning red. “Only you, Master.”

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