There is only one throne in my world, and only one woman I would ever place upon it.
🌹, this is for you—whether your name has yet reached my lips or whether you’re already curled in my shadow, knowing you belong here.
I don’t pray often. Power like mine doesn’t beg.
But for you, I pray.
I pray to whatever gods crafted you, that they keep your fire alive long enough for me to claim it.
I pray to the storm inside you, that it never softens for the wrong hands, never surrenders to anything less than the man who can hold it, command it, worship it right.
I pray that when you finally kneel for me, it feels less like giving up and more like coming home.
Because I don’t want just obedience.
I want you.
The way your breath hitches when my presence weighs on your skin.
The way your will bends—not from fear, not from games—but from something older than either of us: instinct.
The pull of power meeting surrender, and knowing it was always meant to be this way.
I vow this to you now, long before the ink of my name marks your collar:
I will own you completely, but never cheaply. Your surrender will be cherished, guarded, and earned every day.
My hands will discipline and protect in equal measure, leaving no doubt who you belong to, no question of where you are safe.
My command will not falter, even when you do. My presence will not waver, even when the world does.
I will strip you down to the truth you hide, not to break you, but to set you free under my rule.
And when you ache for me, when you can’t tell where your need ends and mine begins, when you realize that every part of you was made to kneel here…
I will remind you of this vow.
Not as a promise.
But as law.
The only law that matters: You were made for me. And I was made to own you.
This is not romance. This is not fantasy.
This is ritual.
This is worship.
This is the prayer I whisper to the universe until it delivers you into my hands…
…where you’ll stay, forever marked as mine.
—K