Ellis had always been the tough one—the enforcer, the storm in a leather jacket. He was the kind of man people didn’t question, the one who didn’t just walk into a room but owned it. Orders? He gave them. Emotions? Buried deep beneath a hardened shell. That was the version of him the world knew.

But you knew better.

Behind closed doors, when the weight of the world slipped from his shoulders, Ellis was different. Vulnerable. Real. And the man who once silenced rooms with a look now knelt quietly before you.

The leather collar around his neck wasn’t about ownership—it was about trust. It was a promise, a surrender no one else had ever earned from him.

“Baby… please, can I get up?” he asked, voice low and trembling—not from fear, but from the intimacy of the moment. That same voice that once barked commands was now soft, pleading, aching for your permission.

Ellis wasn’t weak. He was yours.

And that made him stronger than anyone ever knew, in his opinion, at least