Hollow Chapter 3

The apartment was silent when Damien entered. Neither Adrian nor Lucia had opened the door. It was simply open when he arrived, as though the space itself waited for him.

Lucia stood near the table, lipstick still in her bag. Adrian knelt beside the chair, the black collar at his throat. Both looked at him with the same wide calm.

“Show me,” Damien said.

Lucia fumbled the lipstick free, painting her mouth in slow, trembling strokes. The color was too dark, too heavy, but it steadied her breathing. She turned toward Adrian.

“Leave your mark,” Damien instructed.

She leaned forward, pressed her lips to his cheek. The stain remained, bright against his skin.

“Good.” Damien’s gaze shifted to Adrian. “Now show her what you carry.”

Adrian lifted the pink leash, fingers unsteady. He offered it outward, not daring to speak.

Damien nodded. “Fasten it.”

Adrian obeyed, slipping the loop gently around Lucia’s neck. She did not flinch.

“Now both of you, together. Kneel.”

They sank in unison to the floor. Leash, collar, lipstick — proof of belonging woven into their silence.

Damien tilted the spiral card once, twice. “You see? Even here, you do not belong to each other. You belong only through me. Your bond is mine to permit.”

The words sank like stones. Their heads bowed lower, gently reaching the floor.

The next day, Damien took them outside. A gallery this time — quiet, polished floors, visitors moving slowly past canvases.

Lucia walked at his right, Adrian at his left. To onlookers, they were ordinary: a man, a woman, a man, strangers.

Damien paused before a painting of black lines twisted across white. He slipped the card from his pocket, held it just low enough for only them to see.

“Look.”

Their eyes fixed instantly. The hum of the gallery dulled to silence.

“Adrian. Step forward.”

He obeyed, stopping only when his shoes touched the line etched on the gallery floor.

“Lucia. Tell him to bow.”

Her lips parted, voice low but steady. “Bow.”

Adrian bent at the waist, posture neat, precise. A passing visitor glanced — thought him absorbed in the painting — and moved on.

“Good,” Damien murmured. “Now rise.”

Adrian straightened. His eyes stayed glassy, fixed.

Damien’s voice lowered further. “You see? Even among strangers, you follow. Even in silence, you belong.”

He returned the card to his pocket. The spell did not break.

The three of them moved on, blending back into the gallery’s quiet procession. No one noticed. No one ever did.

That night, back in their apartment, Adrian still wore the collar. Lucia still bore the faint smear of lipstick. The pink leash lay coiled between them on the table.

Neither spoke.

They no longer needed to.

Damien’s voice lived in both of them, in public and in private alike.

The spiral waited everywhere.

It was a cool afternoon. The kind of day when jackets were buttoned halfway and scarves looped loosely against the wind. The park was crowded with joggers, parents, children trailing balloons, students bent over notebooks.

Adrian arrived first, collar fastened snug beneath a dark turtleneck. The black leather pressed into his throat, hidden yet undeniable. His jacket was zipped high, but the leash hung coiled in his pocket, unfastened, heavy against his side.

Lucia came moments later. A wool coat, scarf tucked neat, red lipstick vivid against the pale of her face. Her leash lay concealed beneath the coat’s hem, looped carefully through her wrist. She met Adrian’s eyes only once, quickly, before looking down. Neither spoke.

And then Damien appeared. He did not approach from behind or call out from a distance. He was simply there, stepping from the flow of the crowd as if he had always been walking beside them.

“Come,” he said softly.

They followed him to a clearing where the paths crossed. Children shouted on swings, a dog barked somewhere behind. No one looked twice.

The park grew quieter the further Damien led them from the crowded paths. The laughter of children and the barking of dogs faded, replaced by the rustle of wind in bare branches. Gravel crunched underfoot as they followed, collars pressed close beneath their turtlenecks, leashes coiled and waiting.

At last he stopped in a clearing where the trees leaned close and the benches stood empty. No one else had wandered this far.

“Now,” Damien said softly. His voice carried easily, as if the air itself wanted to obey.

He turned first to Adrian., instruciting, “Take it out.”

Adrian tugged at his pocket, pulling the black leash free. The leather glinted faintly in the pale light.

“Attach it,” Damien instructed.

Adrian swallowed, hands unsteady as he lifted the metal clasp to the ring of his collar, hidden beneath the fold of his sweater. The click was small, but it echoed in his chest like a final lock turned.

“Good. Now hand me the end.”

Adrian extended the leash, handle first, bowing his head as Damien took it from him.

“What does this symbolize?” Damien asked, though his voice suggested he already knew the answer.

Adrian’s lips parted. “That I… that I follow.”

“That you belong,” Damien corrected gently.

Adrian’s breath caught. “That I belong.”

Damien’s eyes glimmered faintly. “To me.”

Adrian’s voice was barely a whisper. “To you.”

Damien turned to Lucia.

Her hand slipped inside her coat, drawing out the pink leash, delicate against the dark fabric.

“Attach it.”

She obeyed, fastening the clasp to the small ring at her collarbone, hidden beneath the wool. The sound was soft, final.

“Now hand me the end.”

Her hand shook slightly as she extended it. He took it with the same calm, wrapping it once around his fingers.

“What does this symbolize?”

Her painted lips moved, words catching in her throat. “That I am tethered.”

“To whom?”

Her eyes lowered. “To you.”

Damien let the silence stretch until it grew heavy, then nodded. “Good. You see now — not ceremony. Not game. Only truth made visible. The card is yours, together you serve.”

He stood for a moment with both leashes in hand, black and pink coiled against his palms, their ends trailing back to the collars hidden under fabric. Adrian and Lucia bowed their heads, still, silent.

At last Damien turned. “Come.”

He began to walk, and they followed — two shadows tethered to him by cords no one else could see. The paths grew wider again, the sounds of the park returning: bicycles rattling, voices carrying on the wind. Yet no one looked closely. To passersby it was only three figures walking together, nothing unusual.

But to Adrian and Lucia, every step was a pull on the invisible line, every breath a reminder of the leash in his hand.

When they reached the road, a black car waited at the curb. The driver stood by the door, eyes forward, face unreadable.

Damien stopped. He did not hand the leashes back. He let them hang for a moment longer, swaying in the air like pendulums.

“Into the car,” he said.

Neither hesitated.

No one saw.

No one ever did.

The car ride ended in silence. Damien had not spoken since they left the park. He sat between them, leashes coiled in his hand, eyes closed as though the weight of their obedience was nothing at all.

When the car stopped before their building, the driver stepped out, opening the door. Damien leaned forward, his voice low, certain.

“You will go inside. You will continue what has begun. Not as play, not as imitation. As truth. At home, you will remind each other who the card belongs to.”

He released the leashes. The ends fell heavy against their laps.

“Do not fail me.”

Neither spoke. Neither dared.

They stepped from the car, collars hidden, lipstick vivid, leashes trailing inside their coats. By the time they turned back, the car was already gone.

The elevator doors sighed open.

Lucia stepped out, pink leash coiled at her wrist. Adrian followed, the black collar snug at his throat, its leash trailing faintly in his hand. The hallway was silent, lit with a pale glow that made the carpet feel endless.

Selene stood at her door.

Marcus was beside her, a step behind, his face blank, posture straight as if waiting for a cue. Selene’s hand rested lightly on his sleeve. He did not move.

Her eyes flicked to the leashes. They lingered, but her expression barely shifted.

“You wear them,” Selene said. Her words were clipped short, stripped of tone.

Lucia’s mouth was dry. “Damien gave them to us.”

Selene tilted her head. “Damien gives.” The name came out flat, mechanical, yet deliberate.

Marcus echoed her, softly, “Damien gives.”

Adrian swallowed, shifting under the collar’s weight. “He… he has you too, doesn’t he?”

Selene’s gaze lingered on him. Her lips curved faintly, but the smile never reached her eyes. “We are here. Damien gives the sign.”

Marcus repeated, “Damien gives the sign.”

The words fell too quickly, too evenly.

Lucia shivered. Her fingers clenched tighter around the pink leash. “It’s the spiral. He’s bound all of us to it.”

Selene’s smile did not change. “The spiral binds.”

Her voice carried no rise or fall, each word clipped like a fragment.

She turned toward her door, pressing Marcus lightly forward. He moved as though nudged by invisible strings, each step too precise.

Before the door closed, Selene glanced back. Her eyes lingered on Lucia, then Adrian. Her lips parted slightly, as if to add something.

But no words came.

She shut the door.

The latch clicked. Silence swelled in the hallway.

Lucia exhaled, trembling. “They are like us. Damien has given them their sign.”

Adrian nodded, though unease prickled beneath his certainty. “Yes. Damien has given them their sign.”

But in the stillness, the way Selene’s gaze had lingered — sharp, knowing — felt too precise to be vacant.

Neither of them spoke of it.

They moved on, their leashes heavy at their sides.

The apartment was dark when they entered. They did not turn on the lights. The city glow through the window was enough.

Adrian set the black leash on the table. The pink one followed. Both lay coiled, waiting.

Lucia reached into her bag, drew out the lipstick, twisting the red up into the dimness. Her hand shook, but she pressed it firm across her mouth. The reflection in the window glass caught the mark — bright, unmistakable.

Adrian watched, throat tight against the collar.

“Show me,” she whispered, her voice uncertain but steady.

He lifted the black leash, fastening it to the ring hidden beneath his turtleneck. The click echoed too loud in the silence. He held the end toward her.

She took it. For a moment she only stared at it, leather heavy across her palm. Then she tugged once, lightly.

Adrian’s body moved with it.

A tremor ran through both of them.

They began slowly, as if unsure how. Commands spoken softly, barely audible.

“Kneel.”

He knelt.

“Bow.”

She bowed.

“Stand.”

They rose together, breathtaking at their symmetry.

Each word seemed to come not from them, but from somewhere else — a memory, an echo. Yet each time they obeyed, their closeness grew sharper, deeper, more undeniable.

Lucia pressed her lips against his cheek, leaving a faint red mark. He touched it with his bound hand, as though memorizing its weight.

Adrian lifted the pink leash, fastening it to her collarbone ring. The clasp clicked. He held the end lightly, tugging her toward him. She moved without hesitation, eyes glassy.

“You belong,” he whispered.

Her voice was faint but certain. “To him.”

“And to me?”

Her eyes flickered. The silence stretched. Then she said softly, “Through him.”

They circled each other in the darkened room, trading leashes, trading commands, breath mingling, movements tightening. Each act felt like invention, like intimacy. Yet beneath it lay something colder, deeper: the certainty that none of this belonged to them.

The lipstick.

The collar.

The leashes.

The words.

All symbols. All tethered back to the spiral.

When at last they collapsed to the floor, bound together by scarf and leash, heads bowed against each other’s shoulders, they whispered the same truth into the dark.

“We are owned.”

The words hummed through them like a pulse, like a vow, like something older than choice.

And in the silence that followed, they felt him still — unseen, unheard, but present. Damien.

The spiral.

Waiting.

The pair stripped in unison.

“We are together through him,” Lucia stated, walking to Adrian, lipstick in hand.

Adrian repeated.

“We are marked as his,” Lucia said, applying the lipstick on Adrian’s lips.

“We are owned,” Adrian replied.

“Bed.” Lucia said.

Adrian got into bed, Lucia pulled the blankets off and climbed on, her head at his manhood, his face between her legs.

“Service is pleasure,” Lucia said.

“I serve.” Adrian replied.

“Serve with pleasure,” Lucia instructed.

“I serve with pleasure,” Adrian replied.

Lucia snapped her fingers and the pair went to work.

Adrian’s lips leaving excitement between the legs of Lucia.

Lucia left a trail of red as she bobbed up and down on Adrian’s manhood.

Serving with pleasure. Serving in pleasure. Serving together.

The card is theirs, the spiral binds.

The apartment was quiet when the knock came. Not the polite, measured taps of a neighbor, but the deliberate rhythm they had already come to recognize — three beats, one pause, then a fourth, heavier.

Lucia froze where she stood, scarf half-folded in her hands. Adrian looked toward the door, throat tightening against the collar he still wore beneath his sweater.

Neither of them spoke. The silence stretched until the knock repeated, softer this time, yet more insistent.

Adrian crossed the room. His hand trembled on the knob. The door opened.

Damien stood there.

No coat. No bag. No expression but the faintest curve of his lips, as though the air itself had been waiting for him to arrive. Behind him, two more figures lingered in the hall.

Selene. Marcus.

Her dress was dark this time, not the green silk from their first night but black, cut severe against the pale of her skin. Marcus loomed just behind her, posture rigid, eyes too still.

Damien stepped inside without invitation. Selene and Marcus followed. The door shut with a whisper.

The room seemed smaller instantly, as though the walls leaned closer to accommodate them all.

“Good,” Damien murmured. His voice was soft, but the air tightened around it. “All of you. Together.”

Adrian glanced at Lucia. She was pale, lips pressed tight, but when Damien looked at her she straightened, smoothing her dress as though awaiting instruction.

Selene stood calm, composed. Only her eyes betrayed something sharper — a glint too steady, too deliberate. Adrian almost thought she looked… aware.

Damien withdrew the spiral card from his pocket. Its gold lines caught the lamplight, shimmering.

“Look.”

Four sets of eyes fixed at once.

The silence deepened. Adrian’s breath slowed. The card tilted once, twice, the spiral swimming inward, endless.

“You belong,” Damien said.

Adrian whispered, “We belong.”

Lucia echoed, “We belong.”

Marcus repeated in flat certainty, “We belong.”

Only Selene hesitated. A fraction too long. But then she too murmured the words, her tone smooth, practiced.

Damien’s gaze lingered on her for a heartbeat before he moved on.

“Tonight,” he said, “you learn together. Not alone. Not as two, but as four. The spiral binds not merely pairs. It binds all who see it. All who obey.”

The spiral tilted again. Adrian felt his chest hollow. Words slipped away. He wanted only to listen.

“Sit,” Damien commanded.

All four obeyed. Adrian on one chair, Lucia beside him. Selene and Marcus opposite, their posture mirrored.

The card gleamed.

“Close your eyes.”

Darkness folded in.

Adrian felt Lucia’s hand brush his. Warm. Trembling. But when Damien spoke again, her fingers slackened, falling still.

“You will forget the room,” Damien murmured. “Forget the faces beside you. Forget the names you carry. There is only the spiral. Only the command. Only obedience.”

The words sank deep. Adrian’s grip on memory loosened. He tried to recall the curve of Lucia’s face, the sound of her voice. It slipped.

“Rise,” Damien said.

Adrian rose. So did Marcus.

“Step forward.”

Two bodies moved at once.

“Good.”

Adrian’s eyes fluttered open — and yet the haze of the spiral lingered. The figure before him was familiar, dark hair, pale skin. He thought it was Lucia. He felt it must be Lucia.

Damien’s voice threaded through the silence. “You stand before your partner. You see only them. You hear only them. You obey only them.”

Adrian exhaled in relief. Yes. Lucia. Always her. Always together since they first fell in love.

But it was Selene who stood there in actuality.

And across the room, Marcus faced Lucia, his wide eyes glassy, his lips parted as though awaiting breath itself.

Damien’s smile curved faintly. “Begin.”

Selene’s voice came low, steady, perfectly even. “Kneel.”

Adrian knelt instantly. His body responded before his mind caught up. He looked up at her, eyes blurred by the spiral’s echo, and saw only Lucia gazing down.

Across the room, Marcus dropped to his knees. Lucia looked at him, lips trembling, then whispered, “Bow.”

He bowed, forehead to the floorboards.

Selene’s command was sharper. “Bow.”

Adrian pressed his forehead low, heart hammering, breath slow. He thought he was obeying the woman he loved. He did not see Selene’s faint flicker of awareness, the sharp calculation in her gaze as she watched him bend.

Damien paced slowly between them. The card tilted once more.

“You see?” he murmured. “You obey who stands before you. You believe it is your own. But it is mine. Always mine. The spiral binds. It belongs to you both.”

Adrian’s chest rose and fell in steady rhythm. His forehead burned against the floor.

“Rise,” Selene ordered.

He rose.

“Turn once.”

He turned, slow, precise.

Lucia’s voice trembled across the room. “Stand still.”

Marcus froze.

Damien’s voice layered above theirs, soft, steady. “Every word you speak carries the spiral. Every command you give is my command. Every act you perform belongs to me.”

The room pulsed with silence.

Selene’s gaze slid to Damien as though gauging his every word. Her lips parted, but no protest came. She bent her tone to obedience, masking herself in its rhythm.

Adrian saw none of it. To him, she was only Lucia. The woman he loved. The one he trusted.

And so when Selene whispered, “Submit,” he obeyed.

He dropped low, hands flat against the floor, body trembling with the ease of surrender.

Across from them, Marcus mirrored the same, his bulk bent small under Lucia’s soft command.

Damien watched, spiral glinting faintly. His voice was calm, deliberate.

“This is the beginning. Four become one. No partner, no self, no division. Only the sign. Only the obedience it commands.”

The card turned again.

Adrian’s thoughts dissolved.

Lucia’s breath slowed.

Marcus’s lips moved faintly, repeating words that were not his own.

And Selene — Selene bowed her head, lips brushing the command like a prayer, while her eyes stayed sharp, glinting with a clarity she did not show.

Damien let the silence stretch until it pressed like weight.

Then he whispered: “Change.”

Adrian felt the world tilt.

Selene’s face blurred before his eyes, reshaping into the only one he believed it could be.

Lucia.

He reached for her hand.

But it was Selene’s fingers that touched his.

Across the room, Marcus’s hand closed over Lucia’s trembling palm.

The spiral gleamed. The illusion held.

Damien smiled.

“Now,” he said softly. “Serve each other. As though you serve yourselves. As though you serve love. But know… you serve only me.”

The spiral gleamed once more, and the air thickened until it hummed. Damien’s voice threaded through it, steady, certain.

“You believe you see your partner,” he murmured. “You believe you touch your own. Hold fast to that belief. It will not waver. It will not crack. The sign does not permit it.”

Adrian blinked, dazed, and saw only Lucia before him. The familiar curve of her mouth. The dark gleam of her eyes. Relief flooded his chest like breath after drowning.

Lucia’s breath caught as she looked up at Marcus — but her mind refused him. She saw only Adrian. She had to. The spiral left no room for doubt. They served the spiral together.

“Touch,” Damien commanded.

Adrian reached out. His hand brushed Selene’s cheek, warm, soft, deliberate. His heart lurched — Lucia, his Lucia — but her skin felt strange, unfamiliar. The thought slipped away before it formed.

Across the room, Marcus’s large hand cupped Lucia’s face. She trembled, lips parting, but the haze closed over her doubts. She whispered his name — Adrian — though the sound was muffled by the silence.

Damien moved slowly between them, like a conductor measuring each note. “Closer.”

Bodies leaned forward. Breath mingled.

“Hold.”

The stillness thickened. Their eyes were glassy, fixed, but their bodies obeyed.

“Now,” Damien murmured, “serve.”

Selene’s lips pressed against Adrian’s, deliberate, soft yet certain. Adrian exhaled, thinking it was Lucia who kissed him, Lucia who guided him. His hand rose to steady her jaw, trembling with devotion.

Lucia felt Marcus’s mouth against hers — firmer, broader — and a spark of confusion flared, but the spiral smothered it instantly. It was Adrian. It had to be. The sign said so.

Damien’s voice coiled around them. “Every kiss, mine. Every breath, mine. Every pulse, mine. You give nothing to each other. You give everything to each other through me.”

Selene’s eyes flicked open as she kissed Adrian, her gaze sliding briefly toward Damien. For a heartbeat her awareness gleamed, sharp and unsurrendered. Then she lowered her lashes, masking it with perfect obedience.

Damien smiled faintly, as if he had seen anyway.

“Now kneel,” he commanded.

Adrian dropped before Selene without pause, his forehead nearly brushing her knees. He thought it devotion to Lucia. He thought it proof of love.

Lucia lowered herself before Marcus, breath catching, heart racing. She whispered, “I serve you,” and believed the words belonged to Adrian.

Damien’s voice deepened, deliberate, pressing into the silence. “Obedience is intimacy. Intimacy is obedience. You love each other. You love the sign. You love me.”

Adrian’s voice, muffled against Selene’s dress: “I love you.”

But in the spiral’s echo, the words bent, shifted. What he spoke was: I love the sign.

Lucia echoed him, eyes glazed, lips trembling.

Marcus repeated flatly, tone mechanical.

Selene whispered too, soft as a sigh, though her words carried a weight the others did not hear: “I see the sign.” She masked her voice with devotion, but her eyes remained sharp.

Damien’s hand tilted the card once more, golden lines folding inward, endless. “Change,” he said again.

The illusion deepened. The boundaries blurred further.

Adrian felt Selene’s hand guide him upward, her breath warm against his ear. He thought it was Lucia, his anchor, his bond. He pressed his lips to her throat with reverence, whispering, “Yours.”

Lucia leaned into Marcus’s chest, his arms enclosing her like a cage. She thought it was Adrian’s warmth, Adrian’s strength. She kissed his collarbone, whispering the same vow.

“Yours.”

Damien let the silence swallow their words, then claimed them: “Mine.”

They repeated in unison. “Yours. Yours. Yours.”

He paced slowly between them, each step measured, precise. “You do not need to choose who you touch. You do not need to choose who you kiss. You do not need to choose who you serve. The spiral chooses, the spiral is yours. You serve together. And through me, you are bound.”

Adrian’s breath shuddered as Selene pressed him lower, her fingers in his hair. He thought it was Lucia guiding him, intimacy transformed into ritual. He obeyed without question.

Lucia’s eyes fluttered shut as Marcus bent her head back, his mouth trailing reverence across her skin. She thought it was Adrian, her anchor, her love. She yielded, whispering obedience.

The spiral’s glow burned behind their eyelids.

Selene glanced once at Damien over Adrian’s bowed head, her eyes sharp, deliberate. She masked it again, whispering a command into Adrian’s ear that slid like silk.

“Obey.”

And he did.

Damien’s voice layered over hers, sealing the moment: “You obey each other as you do, you obey me. Always me.”

The silence thickened until it felt alive.

Four bodies knelt, bent, touched, kissed — but none of it belonged to them. Every breath, every vow, every brush of intimacy was tethered back to the spiral, to Damien’s voice, to the inevitability of surrender.

At last, Damien lifted the card high, its spiral gleaming once, twice, then stilling.

“Sleep,” he commanded.

Their eyes shut as one.

Adrian’s head sagged into Selene’s lap. Lucia’s body slackened against Marcus’s chest.

They breathed in unison, rhythm slow, perfect, empty.

Only Selene’s lashes flickered, a faint tremor of awareness she quickly stilled.

Damien watched them all, eyes unreadable. His voice dropped to a whisper, threading into the silence like a knife.

“You will remember the partner before you as the one you share the spiral with. You will remember only closeness, only devotion, only the sign. You will know it was always your own. You will not question. You will not resist. You will wait for the spiral. You will crave it.”

Their heads nodded faintly, dreamlike, lulled into certainty.

Damien slipped the card back into his pocket. The room seemed to exhale.

“You belong,” he said simply.

They whispered as one, voices slurred with obedience: “We belong.”

And in that moment, their intimacy was sealed — not theirs, never theirs, but his.

Damien turned, leaving them bowed, tethered in silence.

Selene’s gaze lingered on his back as the door closed. Her lips curved faintly, almost imperceptibly. Not surrender. Not defiance. Something else.

Something waiting.

The spiral glowed in memory.

And the couples slept in borrowed devotion.