Property of Ruth Copeland

The ballroom is filled with guests. My family is there—Caroline, Alex, Jay. My friends are there—members of the Paradigm’s inner circle. My staff is there, ready to serve. And David is there, watching me with pride.

The room is decorated with flowers and candles. The lighting is soft, the atmosphere reverent. This is a ceremony of transformation, of surrender, of belonging.

I lead Lexi to the center of the room. She’s completely naked, her body oiled and gleaming. She kneels before me, her head bowed, her hands clasped in her lap.

“Everyone,” I announce, “we are here to witness the collaring of Lexi. She has chosen this life. She has chosen to be sterilized. She has chosen to be collared. She has chosen to be nude. She has chosen to be mine.”

The room is silent. Everyone is watching.

I take the collar in my hands. It’s silver, simple, and elegant. Engraved on the inside are the words: “Property of Ruth Copeland.”

“Lexi,” I say, my voice ringing through the ballroom. “Do you choose this? Do you choose to be sterilized, collared, and owned?”

She looks up at me, tears streaming down her face. “I choose this. I want this. I need this. I am yours.”

I place the collar around her neck.

“Then I claim you. I own you. You are mine.”

The collar clicks shut.

The room erupts in applause.

Lexi is no longer Emma Vale. She is Lexi, property of Ruth Copeland.

She belongs to me.

I kneel beside her and take her face in my hands. I kiss her forehead, gently.

“You are mine,” I whisper. “Forever.”

She’s crying, tears streaming down her face. “Forever,” she repeats. “Forever.”