Strip. Here. Now
Nora's POV
The door hung crooked on its hinges where Callum Mercer had kicked it open. Vivienne and her associates had fled within seconds of his arrival, leaving only the acrid smell of fear and my own shame soaking into the carpet beneath my feet.
I stood there, swaying, my torn blouse hanging open, urine still warm on my thighs, and watched as Callum moved toward me with the careful precision of someone approaching a wounded animal. His eyes had returned to their normal silver-gray, but something predatory lingered in the way he looked at me—not with disgust at my state, but with an assessment that made my Mercer prickle despite the alcohol dulling my senses.
"Ms. Ellison." His voice was softer now, almost gentle, but there was steel underneath. "I believe we have business to discuss."
I tried to speak, but my throat was raw from the whiskey Vivienne had forced down it. Instead, I pulled the edges of my blouse together with trembling fingers, acutely aware that I was standing in my own filth before one of the most powerful men in Flora City.
Callum shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it around my shoulders without touching me. The fabric was warm from his body heat and smelled of cedar and something darker, more primal. "Reid," he called toward the doorway, where a broad-shouldered man in his forties appeared. "Clear the building. I want everyone out except Ms. Ellison's assistant. Tell her to bring clean clothes."
Reid nodded and disappeared. Callum moved to my desk chair and sat, somehow making my own office feel like his territory. He pulled out his phone and made a brief call, his gaze never leaving me. "Dr. Yuen. I need St. Michael's private wing prepared within the hour. Full medical workup, including gynecological examination. Yes, I'll be present throughout."
My stomach lurched, though whether from the alcohol or his words, I couldn't tell. "What—"
"Sit down before you fall down," Callum interrupted, gesturing to the chair across from my desk. "We have a great deal to discuss, and I'd prefer you conscious for it."
I stumbled to the chair, his jacket sliding down my shoulders. My vision kept doubling, and the room spun in slow, nauseating circles. Through the fog, I watched him pull a leather portfolio from the briefcase Reid had brought in.
"I've purchased your company's debt," Callum said, his tone businesslike now, as if we were discussing quarterly earnings rather than the ruins of my life. "All twelve million, four hundred seventy-three thousand dollars of it. Ellison Trade and Logistics now belongs to me, along with all associated assets, contracts, and liabilities."
The words took a moment to penetrate the alcohol haze. "You... bought it?"
"Thirty minutes ago. The creditors were quite eager to sell—they knew they'd never recover the full amount through liquidation." He opened the portfolio, revealing a thick document. "Which brings us to your situation, Ms. Ellison. You have two options. First, I can proceed with liquidation. Your employees will be terminated, your parents' medical bills will go unpaid, and you'll spend the next decade in bankruptcy court. Or—"
He slid the document across the desk.
"You can sign this contract and accept my terms."
My hands shook as I reached for the papers, but the words swam before my eyes. I caught fragments—"submissive," "dominant," "safe word," "physical discipline"—and felt ice flood through my veins despite the whiskey's warmth.
"This is a BDSM contract," I whispered.
"Yes." Callum leaned forward, his silver eyes holding mine with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. "You will submit to me completely. Your body, your time, your obedience—all of it becomes mine. In exchange, I will save your company, pay your parents' medical expenses, and ensure your employees keep their jobs. You'll also receive a personal stipend of ten thousand dollars monthly for your cooperation."
"You're aMercerg me to be your... your sex slave." The words tasted like bile.
"I'm aMercerg you to be my submissive," he corrected, his voice hardening. "There's a difference. This contract includes safe words, hard limits, and medical care. You'll be protected, provided for, and when our arrangement ends—assuming you fulfill the terms—you'll walk away with your company restored and your debts cleared."
Claire knocked hesitantly, carrying a bag of clothes. Callum dismissed her with a gesture, and she fled without meeting my eyes. The shame of it burned through the alcohol—my assistant had seen me piss myself, seen me stripped and humiliated, and now she knew I was being offered this obscene bargain.
"How long?" I managed to ask.
"One year. After that, if you wish to terminate the arrangement, you're free to go. If you choose to continue..." Something flickered in his expression, gone too quickly to identify. "We'll renegotiate."
I looked down at the contract, at the neat legal language that would transform me into property.My employees had families depending on them. And I had nothing—no assets, no options, no pride left to protect after what Vivienne had done to me.
"And if I refuse?"
Callum's smile was cold. "Then I'll liquidate everything tomorrow."
The room tilted again, and I tasted bile. He was giving me a choice that wasn't a choice at all—submit or let everyone I loved suffer for my pride.
My hand found the pen on my desk. It felt impossibly heavy as I pulled the contract closer, flipping through pages of detailed terms I couldn't focus on through my tears and the alcohol fog. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice screamed at me to stop, to think, to find another way.
But there was no other way. There had never been another way.
I signed my name on the final page, and the pen slipped from my numb fingers.
Callum pulled the contract toward him, examining my signature with the same careful attention he might give a business acquisition. Then he looked up, and his eyes had changed again—not gold this time, but darker, hungrier.
"Good girl," he said softly. "Now, let's establish the ground rules. First, you will address me as 'Sir' at all times when we're alone. Second, your body belongs to me now—every inch of it. Which means I need to ensure it's clean, healthy, and disease-free before I claim it properly."
He stood, moving around the desk with predatory grace. "Get dressed. We're going to St. Michael's Hospital. You're going to undergo a complete medical examination, including a full gynecological workup. I need to know exactly what I've acquired."
Horror cut through the alcohol fog. "You can't be serious—"
"I'm entirely serious." He gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You signed the contract, Nora. You're mine now. And I take very good care of my possessions."
The private wing of St. Michael's Hospital was nothing like the crowded public floors. Here, everything was hushed and expensive—marble floors, art on the walls, and staff who moved with the discretion of people paid to forget what they witnessed.
Callum kept his hand on the small of my back as he guided me through corridors, his touch possessive and inescapable. I'd changed into the clothes Claire brought—a simple black dress that felt like a funeral shroud—but I could still smell the urine on my Mercer, still feel the weight of what I'd just signed away.
Reid walked ahead of us, and two other men flanked our sides—Callum's security, I realized. We weren't just visiting a hospital. This was an operation, planned and executed with military precision.
Dr. Yuen waited in a private examination room, a petite woman in her fifties with kind eyes that didn't match the cold efficiency of her handshake. "Mr. Mercer. Ms. Ellison. Everything is prepared as you requested."
Callum nodded. "Excellent. Let's begin."
Dr. Yuen gestured toward a changing screen in the corner. "Ms. Ellison, if you'll change into the examination gown—"
"No." Callum's voice cut through the room like a blade. "She won't be using the screen."
My heart stopped. Dr. Yuen's professional mask slipped for just a moment, revealing surprise. "Mr. Mercer, for the patient's comfort—"
"Comfort isn't the priority. Obedience is." Callum turned to me, his silver eyes holding mine with an intensity that made my knees weak. "Nora, I need to see what belongs to me. Strip. Here. Now. In front of everyone."
The room seemed to tilt. Reid and the two security guards stood against the wall, expressionless. Dr. Yuen and two nurses waited by the examination table, their faces carefully neutral. And Callum watched me with the patience of someone who knew I had no choice, who'd engineered this moment specifically to break whatever resistance I had left.
"Please," I whispered, hating the weakness in my voice. "Not like this—"
"Exactly like this." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a tone that was somehow both gentle and implacable. "You need to understand what you've agreed to, Nora. Your body isn't yours anymore. Your modesty isn't yours to protect. When I give you an order, you obey. Now strip, or I'll have Reid do it for you."
My hands moved to the zipper of my dress, trembling so violently I could barely grip it. The alcohol had worn off enough for the full horror of this moment to crash over me—standing in a hospital room, surrounded by strangers, about to expose myself completely because I'd signed away my right to refuse.
The zipper rasped down my spine, impossibly loud in the silent room.
Callum's eyes never left mine, and in them I saw something that terrified me more than Vivienne's cruelty—absolute certainty that I would obey, that I had already surrendered, that every humiliation to come was inevitable.
"Good girl," he murmured. "Now show me what's mine."
