The Offering (Andrea’s POV)

It started with silence.

Doc told me to kneel—on a soft pillow, in front of his favorite chair. The lights were low, candles flickering. I wore nothing but a silk robe and the thrum of anticipation in my chest.

He paced behind me, not touching. Just watching.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“To serve you.”

“And what do you need from me?”

“Structure. Control. Permission.”

He made a soft sound, somewhere between a growl and a sigh.

“You’re giving me something sacred, Andrea. Not just your body. Your obedience. Your trust.”

“Yes, sir,” I breathed.

He stepped in front of me and lifted my chin. His eyes were dark, intense—but not cruel. Never cruel.

“Tonight, I’ll collar you.”

My stomach fluttered. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re mine, in this space. It means I’ll protect you, claim you, and guide you. It also means you’ll surrender. Not because you’re weak. But because you’re strong enough to choose me.”

He fastened the soft leather collar around my neck. It wasn’t harsh or tight, it was beautiful. Feminine. His fingers lingered at the clasp.

“Safe word?”

“Juniper.”

He nodded. “Good girl.”

The words hit me like lightning—warm and wicked. Not condescending. Not cruel. Just... true. I was his girl, in this moment. His to guide, to cherish, to own.

The rest of the night blurred into heat and surrender.

He gave me orders. I followed.

He pushed me—gently at first, then harder.

I cried when he praised me. Moaned when he bent me over and took me slowly from behind, one hand gripping the collar, the other sliding over the curve of my belly.

“You carry my child,” he murmured. “But now you carry my mark.”

I came undone like I never had before—more than an orgasm. It was a release of everything. Fear. Control. The illusion that I had to always be strong on my own.

In Doc’s arms, I found power in softness.

And when he held me after, whispering how proud he was of me, how beautiful and brave I was, I knew something had shifted.

This wasn’t just about kink.

It was about being seen.

And choosing to be vulnerable—on my knees, in his hands, and still completely whole.