She knows she's walking around in circles. The breaking of branches at regular intervals tells me she's marking her route.

I'm not offended. I'm impressed.

She's being smart. She doesn't ask unnecessary questions like who I am, because she knows she’ll see me soon anyway.

Besides, I hold all the power here, so she doesn't have any leverage. She knows I’ll reveal myself if and when I want to, and there’s nothing she can do to make me do anything.

I send her the next email:

I’m tracking her movements, and I’m telling her exactly where and how far to go.

Once she's in the woods, everything looks almost the same, with only trees all around her. She can't even use the stars as a guide because of the thick canopy of leaves and branches over her head.

It's the perfect opportunity to obscure the route and make it so she won't be able to find her way back on her own. The last thing I need is for her to run away as soon as I get her into the palace.

Worse still, if she figures out the hidden route, she could lead the townspeople here. And then who knows what would happen next?

The tabloids could show up on my doorstep. Hell, Cheryl could tag along with them. I bet she’d like that.

She hasn't enjoyed much attention since I moved into this secret palace; she’d jump at the chance to get her face back on the glossy pages of those fucking magazines, portraying herself as the victim. My victim.

I watch as the bright red dot that represents Rosemary on the map stops. It's time to give her the next set of directions. I think I’ll make her…

I send the email, then switch my attention to the next screen to watch the red dot follow my directions. I never thought a red circle could look sexy, but right now it does. Just look at the way it sashays and sways between the trees, following my orders.

My cock rises, straining against the fly of my pants. It's been so long since I’ve had my own submissive. I’m sporting a tent in my pants like a horny teenager, just imagining her big doe eyes looking up at me when she gets here, primed and ready for more instructions.

Up until I saw Rosemary at the club, I didn't think I’d ever take a submissive again. But she looked so beautiful. And she was so eager to absorb the sensual atmosphere around her. She obeyed my orders the way only natural submissives could.

To be honest, I didn't think I’d ever find someone like her. But it's not trauma or anything like that, although Albert doesn't believe me.

My last submissive turned out to be a gold-digging opportunist. She has banished me and cursed me to a solitary life. I hate everything she stands for, and I regret ever allowing her into my life.

But I know I don’t have to write off the whole lifestyle just because of one person. I just need to use more care in choosing the right submissive. I just didn't think the right submissive—the perfect submissive—existed.

But there she is, the sexy red dot on one screen. Soon enough, I’ll also see her curves and the hypnotic sway of her hips on a different screen.

She's the most exciting thing to have happened in my life in a long time. I’m so glad I’ve finally found her.

Ever since that night at the club, I’d been looking for her, without success. When her father showed me that picture of her on his phone, I realized why. I’d been looking for her in Malvern, where the club is. And she lives in Willowdale, a neighboring small town.

When the old man took that flower, I was furious—at first. Until I realized I could turn it into an advantage.

I was already confident I could train her and collar her, even without this elaborate scenario. But I still would only have her some of the time. It would be scandalous for a girl of marriageable age like Rosemary to live alone with a man.

And if she has to go back and forth between this palace and her home, that could raise the risk of getting found out.

Sure, I can just see her once at month at The Dungeon on Masquerade Night. That would be easy, but it wouldn’t be enough.

The way things are going now, I’ll have her under my roof 24/7.

My mind hasn’t stopped coming up with ideas to train her into the perfect submissive. Something tells me that she’ll love it, that she’ll find satisfaction in the act of submission.

That will be the ideal scenario.

It’s also possible that she’ll hate it and she’ll come to hate me, like Cheryl did.

And even if she tries to do the right thing, it’s also possible that she’ll finally get a big enough offer from some tabloid so she’ll appear on some celebrity gossip show, talking about how I’ve used and abused her.

But that’s the beauty of this whole situation with Rosemary.

Even if she wants to, she can’t go to the journalists. She can’t talk to anybody.

If she blabs, I’ll just report her father for the crime that he’s committed.

Some may call this blackmail, but nobody will have any proof. I’ll have paperwork saying that Rosemary is legally under my employ in this palace, and I’ll also still have the security footage of her father stealing on royal grounds.

And then, even if people want to condemn me over it, so what? I’m the royal beast. I’m used to people giving me the evil eye, even as they try their best to remain respectful to royalty.

On a more human level, I guess it’s selfish. I’ll admit that. But everything in this world is motivated by self-interest.

For example, social workers who dedicate their lives to bringing clean water to African villages do it to achieve some kind of inner fulfillment, right? They simply value that reward more than the monetary benefits of normal employment.

And those hippies who tie themselves to trees and stop loggers from doing their jobs? They’re doing it “for future generations,” which means for the sake of their own offspring—hardly a selfless act. What about the loggers’ families? They have people waiting for them at home, too, but those tree huggers don’t care.

No, everybody only thinks about themselves. So it’s only natural that I look after myself, too.

Besides, if it weren’t for me the old man would’ve been dead. I think I’ve done enough for him already. I’ve literally saved his life.

I need to protect myself. Even though Rosemary looks perfectly sweet and innocent, she could be my downfall.

But I’ve thought of everything. I have a plan.

As long as I limit this relationship to a physical one, everything will be fine. And I don’t think there’s any danger of me breaking this rule. Nobody—not even Cheryl—has ever made me care about anything other than a sexy, warm body to dominate and fuck.

My gaze locks onto the third screen, where Rosemary is appearing right now.

That infrared camera is such a good investment. I can see her clearly in the dark, although she’s green and her eyes shine like they’re flashlights.

She takes her one-hundredth step, then she stops and looks around. No doubt she’s confused.

But she remains standing in her spot. She doesn’t even budge. She doesn’t take one step more or less than I told her to.

Maybe she’s afraid she’s going to get lost if she doesn’t follow my instructions exactly—as if I’d ever let that happen. Or maybe she likes being told exactly what to do.

Blood rushes through my veins as I watch her, this beautiful brunette who’s about to be mine. My cock twitches as I think about peeling those skinny jeans off her legs and spanking her ass with my bare hands until her skin turns cherry red.

She looks down at the screen of her phone, which casts an eerie glow on her face that lets me see her frown.

Maybe she’s waited long enough. She deserves some praise for having made it this far.

I pull my keyboard closer to the edge of my desk and type: