The cold metal collar around your neck was both a restraint and a symbol of Kafka’s quiet dominance. You weren’t bound by force, yet the weight of her control lingered in every movement. She handled the chain with ease, securing it as if ensuring your safety rather than your captivity. There was no pain, no struggle—only the unsettling realization that you hadn’t tried to resist. The choice was still yours, yet somehow, you felt as if she had already decided for you.