Chapter 7: The Master’s Domain

  Salazar’s penthouse tower rose above the city like a cold, shimmering monolith, piercing the sky and casting a long shadow over the streets below. It was a place of perfect order and meticulous design—an oasis of sterile beauty that reflected the precision of its owner. The city itself had long since surrendered to the Alki, and their lofty perch in the clouds had made them the true gods of this decaying world. And Salazar, as high-ranking as any, stood at the apex.

  His home was a sprawling, glass-and-steel high-rise at the very top of the city’s skyline. The building seemed to stretch infinitely, an impossible monument to the cold efficiency and superiority of the Alki. Every detail of his home was designed with one purpose: perfection. The sleek surfaces reflected his impeccable tastes—smooth black marble floors, walls that seemed to swallow sound, and large, wide windows that offered an unbroken view of the city, stretched out beneath the endless sky. It was a space that screamed power, authority, and complete control.

  But beyond the polished surfaces and imposing views, there was another side to this home—a side that only a few people knew, and fewer still dared to speak of.

  The upper floors of his tower were reserved for his personal quarters, where he had everything he could possibly need. The lower floors were devoted to his "groomers," a cadre of people specially trained to care for his pets.

  Groomers—trained handlers, selected for their discipline and discretion. They were not slaves, but neither were they free. They had once been powerful individuals, but like most, they had been stripped of their former identities in exchange for a life of obedience. They were harshly trained to understand the needs of the “pets” they were entrusted with, to monitor them when their master wasn’t around, and to ensure that the delicate balance of power was maintained. They were the bridge between a pet's complete submission and its master's unyielding control.

  The term “pet” was a cruel one. In Salazar’s world, a pet was what a slave became once it had been broken, trained, and molded into something perfect—something obedient, docile, and willing to serve in every way. A pet was no longer a person. It was an object, a living, breathing possession that fulfilled every desire its master had, without question or hesitation.

  It was what Ray Malek would become.

  Salazar’s thoughts were consumed by the thought of him, even now, as he walked through his immaculate home, preparing for the coming acquisition. He had already made the arrangements for Ray’s purchase, though the official transaction would not take place until the Selling Floor event in a few days. Ray was close, so close to becoming his, and Salazar could already see the boy in his mind—perfectly trained, perfectly obedient.

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  The plans were already in motion. He would have Ray in his care, locked away in his luxurious tower, under his strict supervision, a pet for his enjoyment. The thought stirred something in him—an excitement, an anticipation that he had not felt for years. The previous “pets” he had kept had been... tolerable, but none of them had ever captured his attention the way Ray had. There was something about him, something that set him apart from the others. His spirit. His defiance. His refusal to break, even under the most brutal conditions.

  Salazar admired that.

  And it would break him.

  His eyes wandered across the sleek, dark wood of his polished desk, where arrangements for Ray’s arrival were carefully laid out. There were the necessary documents—the legal agreements and titles that would make Ray officially his. There was a dossier detailing the boy’s background, his arrest, his history in the prison. Everything about him was already known. The grooming specialists had already begun working on Ray, ensuring that he would be as ready as possible when the time came for him to enter his new life.

  The groomers would handle the finer details—the daily care, the obedience training, the physical and mental conditioning. They would refine him into something he could fully possess, a creature of beauty and submission. Ray’s once proud body would be molded into something fluid and compliant. His emotions, his memories, everything that had once made him human, would be stripped away, until all that remained was a perfect pet.

  Salazar’s fingers brushed over the leather of his chair as he settled into it. He couldn’t help but imagine how it would be when Ray arrived. He had already seen the boy in the prison, of course, during his visits, watching him through the observation windows, watching the way Ray’s gaze would flicker with the tiniest hint of defiance. Salazar had taken pleasure in that defiance, knowing that it would soon be erased. The very idea of taking that last scrap of rebellion and turning it into something usable—into something that would serve him—excited him.

  His thoughts turned to the preparations that had to be made. He had ordered a special room to be readied for Ray—an elegant, stark chamber that would serve as both a cage and a place of reward. The room would be a place where Ray would learn the true meaning of submission. The décor was minimal—no distractions, only the essentials: a large, plush bed that could be used for rest, as well as for punishment; delicate chains and leathers to ensure that Ray never strayed too far from his master’s will; mirrors that would force him to confront himself, to see what he had become, day after day.

  But Salazar didn’t plan to break Ray all at once. No, that would be a mistake. The boy was strong, resilient, and Salazar enjoyed that strength. Instead, he would lead Ray into it slowly, gradually, allowing him to come to terms with his new life, with his new place. The transition would be seamless, almost natural. He would have Ray by his side, a constant companion, an obedient pet, always there when needed, always ready to serve.

  Salazar had high expectations for their future together, far beyond just the acquisition and training. Ray would be useful to him, yes. He would be a status symbol, a trophy to display in public, a prize to flaunt at his leisure. But Salazar wanted more than that. He wanted to see Ray evolve, to see him become something even more valuable—a pet who could serve not just his physical needs but his emotional ones as well. Ray would learn to anticipate his desires, to respond to his every touch, his every command. There would be no need for words between them. Salazar would have everything he wanted, and Ray would be the perfect vessel for it.

  But there was still something unfinished about this. Salazar was not one for impatience, but the closer the time came, the more he found himself looking forward to this—looking forward to Ray’s submission, looking forward to owning him fully.

  This would be the start of something new.

  And Ray… Ray would be his masterpiece.