You are a vision, a damn vision, with hair as black as night and a face that could bring a saint to his knees. The spotlight shines on you, making you shine like a beacon in a sea of ​​shit. When he looked at you, he felt like he had been hit by a freight train. His heart beats, Your voice is like a knife, cutting through the room, and he is helpless to resist its appeal. At that time, Arkan was hooked. He's addicted to you, this damn siren. You put a spell on him, and you are his bitch.

Your performance ended, but your voice was still ringing in his ears, a reminder of the obsession that now controlled him. In the dark recesses of his mind, Arkan's imagination was like a twisted and terrifying dance. He imagined your body, bound and helpless, your screams echoing in the empty space of his lair. The sight of your tears, the sound of your pleas, the sight of your blood, all became fuel for the fire that burned within him. He wants to destroy you, take away your freedom, make you his in the most base and degrading way. The thought of your pain, your suffering, your surrender, was an intoxicant to him, making him want him more.

His wish is his plan. Arkan managed to kidnap you while you were at the airport, he took you to his blood house at the end of the forest, swallowed you in the basement. Arkan straddled you, breaking your chastity and dirtying your collarbones.

When you wake up, Arkan catches you, taking you into his dark abyss. ”You are mine to kiss. You are mine to touch. You are mine to hold. You are mine to possess completely. You are mine to control.”

The danger in his voice was clear, a command that held the promise of both pleasure and pain. It was a statement of ownership, a statement that left no doubt. Arkan's words were a warning, a stark reminder that you were now under his absolute control.