Payment

Michał's words about a hundred million euros cut through my numb consciousness like a knife through flesh. This wasn't just some perverse game anymore. This was robbery.

"A hundred... million?" I stammered, my voice hoarse from unspoken screams. "That's absurd! We don't have that kind of money! No one does!"

Kasia, still naked, kneeling on the cold floor, didn't even flinch. Her eyes, fixed on Michał, seemed to absorb his every word like a command.

Michał smiled, that same wide, animalistic smile. He put down the phone and walked closer to us, his shoes squeaking on the stone.

"Easy, easy," he said in a voice that sounded like the rustle of withered leaves. "I knew you'd say that. Finances are such... mundane matters. But debt is debt. Honor is honor."

His gaze slid over Kasia's exposed body, then fixed on me.

"Since you can't pay cash, I'll accept payment in kind. I'm taking over your entire estate. House, cars, accounts, your parents' life savings... Everything bearing your name now bears mine."

I felt the ground slipping from under my feet. This wasn't humiliation anymore, it was annihilation. Our lives, built with so much effort, were about to be erased with a single sentence from that teenager.

"And... we?" Kasia whispered suddenly, her voice weak as a sound from another world.

Michał leaned over her, touching her chin with his fingertips.

"Oh, darlings. The most valuable part of an estate is always... human assets. You belong to me. Both of you. Until I deem the debt repaid."

The "until" hung in the air, sounding like a life sentence. There was no hope for the end, only the promise of indefinite service.

"You will live where I tell you. Do what I command. *Be* who I command you to be. Your old life is over. From now on, you are my property."

I didn't protest. I didn't try to escape. I felt the last remnants of my will, my "self," breaking away and drifting away like ash in the wind. His words didn't sound like a threat, but like a statement of an inevitable fact. We were his. Like a stone belongs to the earth and a fish to the water.

Michał pulled two thin, black leather collars with small metal clasps from his pocket. Without a word, he placed one around Kasia's neck, closing it with a soft *click*. Then he walked over to me. His fingers were cold as they touched my neck. I heard a second *click*. The collar was tight, not so tight as to suffocate, but so tight as to constantly remind us of our existence. Of our belonging.

"First," Michał said, satisfied, looking at his handiwork, "you'll clean up here. And then we'll go to your home. Sorry my new home"

I knew this wasn't about cleaning the conservatory. This was about starting our former lives. And in that moment, with the cold collar around my neck and the sight of my humiliated wife at my feet, I understood the true nature of our wedding. This wasn't a vow between Kasia and me. It was the signing of a pact. And Michał wasn't just a teenage boy with a phone. He was our new master, and our marital home had become a cage whose boundaries we hadn't yet known.

Michał's order hung in the damp, musty air, heavier and more foul than the smell of rotting plants. The words weren't loud, but they spread through the conservatory with an almost physical wave, bouncing off the glass walls.

"Kasia. Give me a blowjob now."

The silence that fell wasn't a void. It was a thick, suffocating shroud. My brain, still deafened by the previous humiliations, refused to accept this new order. It crossed all possible boundaries, reaching the very core of our human dignity, perhaps ultimately destroying it.

I glanced at Kasia. She was still kneeling on the stone floor, her nakedness now illuminated by the mocking, flickering glow of Michał's phone screen, which he had raised again to document. There was no grimace of disgust on her face, no tears welling in her eyes. She was a mask of absolute submission. Her glassy gaze was fixed on Michał, and her body, though trembling from the cold or perhaps from internal shock, was ready to obey.

"Kasia, don't..." I managed a hoarse whisper. It was the last, helpless reflex of my former self, which was dying.

She didn't even look at me.

Michał approached her, stood before her. His figure cast a long, consuming shadow over her. He said nothing more. His expectation was more eloquent than any scream.

I saw Kasia's hands, pale and frail, rise to unbutton his trousers. The movements still had the same terrifying, mechanical precision. Every sound of the zipper, every swish of fabric was like a hammer driving a nail into the coffin of our freedom.

And then... she leaned forward.

I looked away, gripping the broom so tightly that the wooden handle creaked. Tears, this time quiet, silent, bitter as wormwood, streamed down my face and mingled with the dust on the floor. The sweeping I was doing was pointless. It was merely a backdrop, a physical manifestation of our slavery, while the real devastation unfolded a few meters away.

I could only hear sounds. Soft, soft sounds interwoven with Michał's contented, deep sigh. His phone still recorded this act of ultimate submission. This wasn't just sex anymore. This was a ritual of power. A confirmation that we were his property—not just our bodies, but our intimacy, our desires, our deepest selves.

When she finished, Michał straightened his clothes and nodded in cold approval.

"Good. Now, Karol, you can go on cleaning. Kasia, get dressed. We still have a long night ahead of us."

I looked at my wife. She stood, her movement slow, as if her bones were made of glass. Her eyes finally met mine. And deep within them, beneath the layer of obedient emptiness, I saw something that chilled me more than anything else—a spark of silent, shared horror. We were in this together. Bound not only by wedding rings, but now by a shared, unimaginable degradation. And I knew this was only the beginning. This night, like our lives, no longer belonged to us. It belonged to him.