The late afternoon sun bathed the estate in a golden glow as Peter guided the car through the imposing wrought iron gates. The driveway stretched ahead like a perfectly manicured carpet, bordered by immaculate rows of hedges that looked as though each leaf had been placed by hand. In the distance, the mansion rose proudly, its elegant facade gleaming with the sharp clarity of unyielding perfection. The grounds sprawled around it, meticulously designed gardens bursting with color, fountains arching crystalline water into the air, and a shimmering pool reflecting the cloudless sky. Even from this distance, the estate exuded an air of control and dominance.
The past week had been torture. Peter had kept his word. No glimpses of Claudia’s bare skin, no accidental brushes in the bedroom, no stolen looks when she stepped out of the shower. She had obeyed Richard’s rule with unnerving precision, changing in the bathroom with the door locked, sleeping in oversized T-shirts that covered everything, even turning her back to him when undressing. Each denial had left him aching, frustrated, and humiliatingly hard inside the growing anticipation of what awaited them today. Now, standing before the wrought-iron gates of Richard’s estate, that week felt like the final preparation for something far more permanent.
Claudia shifted in the passenger seat, her hand unconsciously tightening around the strap of the small leather bag resting on her lap. Inside it lay the swimsuit Richard had chosen for her. A subtle reminder that even her attire was no longer her own choice. Peter glanced over, noting the way her lips pressed into a thin line, caught somewhere between nervousness and excitement. The silence in the car was palpable, charged with the knowledge that they were stepping further into an unknown that was no longer theoretical but tangible and all-consuming.
As the car came to a smooth halt in front of the grand entrance, the heavy doors swung open, and Richard appeared, his presence commanding as always, framed by the ornate archway. Evelyn stood beside him, her posture graceful and confident, her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. Richard descended the stone steps with unhurried precision, every movement measured and deliberate. He wore casual attire. A crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and perfectly tailored trousers. But even in this relaxed ensemble, his dominance was undeniable. Evelyn followed a step behind, the hint of submission subtly woven into her poised demeanor.
“Welcome,” Richard greeted them, his voice smooth and unyielding. He extended his hand to Claudia first, drawing her out of the car with a firm but gentle grip. She offered a soft, almost whispered, “Thank you,” her cheeks flushed. Peter’s stomach twisted as he circled around to the trunk to retrieve their bags, acutely aware of how little control he had in this space.
Richard’s eyes flicked to Peter, and with a slight nod, he acknowledged him, a subtle gesture that somehow felt more like an inspection than a greeting. “Good to see you both,” he said, his tone polite but layered with an unmistakable sense of authority. “I trust the drive wasn’t too taxing?”
“No, it was fine,” Peter replied, his voice steady but lacking confidence. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was speaking out of turn, that even simple conversation needed to be measured and careful.
Evelyn stepped forward, her gaze settling on Claudia with a warm but appraising look. “I hope you brought the swimsuit,” she said lightly, her tone conversational yet threaded with intent.
“Yes,” Claudia replied, her voice slightly breathless. She lifted the small leather bag. “The one Richard suggested to buy last week, the high-cut Brazilian style he said would suit me best. I ordered it after his message… he even sent a link with his exact preference.”
Evelyn’s smile widened with approval. “Smart choice. He has an eye for what flatters.”
Richard’s gaze didn’t waver. “Good. We’ll get settled first. Drinks on the terrace.” The statement was not a suggestion but an instruction. Claudia glanced at Peter for a brief second before following Richard and Evelyn inside, leaving Peter to gather their belongings. He couldn’t help but notice the way Claudia seemed to move differently in Richard’s presence, more aware of her body, as if conscious of every motion and the way it might be perceived.
The terrace sprawled out before them, a masterpiece of architectural precision. Paved in light gray stone and bordered by meticulously trimmed hedges, it overlooked the gardens, where a large fountain stood at the center, its crystalline waters cascading rhythmically. The late afternoon sun dipped low, casting long shadows that stretched like dark fingers across the polished stones.
Richard gestured to a set of low, cushioned chairs arranged around a circular glass table. A tray awaited them, bearing four pristine glasses and an elegant decanter of amber liquid that caught the sun, throwing fractured light onto the stone below. Evelyn moved with a practiced grace, taking one of the seats and crossing her legs, her dress whispering against her skin. Claudia hesitated, glancing back at Peter, before choosing a seat beside Evelyn.
Peter’s hands were clenched at his sides, his knuckles pale with tension as he stood awkwardly, unsure whether to take the remaining chair. Richard noticed and gave a faint, knowing smile. “Sit, Peter,” he instructed smoothly. Peter swallowed hard, lowering himself into the seat and trying to steady his breathing. Claudia’s hand briefly found his knee under the table, a fleeting touch meant to reassure him. It didn’t help.
Richard sat last, deliberately slow and composed, his presence commanding attention without effort.
Richard poured the amber liquid into each glass, his movements deliberate and controlled. He lifted his own and waited for the others to follow suit. “To new beginnings,” he said, his voice resonating with a confidence that made the simple toast feel profound.
They drank, and the silence stretched, thick and heavy, before Richard broke it once more. “Before we proceed,” he began, “we must establish some crucial ground rules. You’ve already come this far, and it’s clear that both of you are committed to exploring this dynamic. But commitment without structure leads to chaos.”
Evelyn leaned forward, her gaze sharp and unwavering. “Safety is non-negotiable,” she added. “There will be rules and safeguards. Trust requires that you follow them without question.”
Richard looked directly at Peter, his eyes unyielding. “We will use three safewords. ‘Green’ means continue, everything is acceptable. ‘Yellow’ signals a need to pause or slow down, and ‘Red’ halts everything immediately. You will memorize these words and respond accordingly. Understand?”
Peter nodded, his mouth dry. Claudia mirrored the gesture, though her eyes remained fixed on Richard, her lips slightly parted as if waiting for his next command.
“Good,” Richard said, satisfied. “Now, there’s the matter of chastity.” His tone didn’t change, calm and factual, as if discussing the weather. “It’s not just about denying pleasure; it’s about reinforcing your role, Peter. Therefore, the device is not merely symbolic, it’s practical.”
The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing down on Peter’s chest. He could feel Claudia tense beside him, her hand retreating from his knee as if unsure whether comfort was appropriate.
Richard’s gaze remained fixed on Peter. “Are you prepared to embrace that reality? To wear the cage and relinquish that control entirely? This is your decision, but it must be made now. Once chosen, there will be no retreat.”
A long, agonizing silence followed, punctuated only by the gentle clinking of ice against glass as Evelyn swirled her drink. Peter struggled to breathe, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. Was this truly what he wanted? To give up even that most personal of freedoms? Yet, he knew that refusal would not just mark his limits, it would be a defeat. An acknowledgment that he couldn’t endure the path they’d set upon.
He swallowed, forcing the words out. “I… I’m willing to try.”
Richard gave a single nod, as if the response had been expected. “Good. Then understand this, your commitment will be honored, but it comes with terms. Should you refuse to wear it, you will be restricted indoors, where Evelyn will ensure you remain properly occupied. Claudia, meanwhile, will continue to enjoy the afternoon with me. I will not tolerate indecisiveness. You accept chastity, or you accept confinement. There is no in-between.”
Claudia’s fingers found Peter’s hand again, squeezing it gently. Richard’s gaze softened just slightly. “You’ll find that surrender, when complete, brings a sense of clarity. It is not about being diminished, but about embracing a role with purpose. In time, you’ll understand.”
Peter forced another sip past his lips, his pulse thundering in his ears. Beside him, Claudia’s presence was warm and grounding, but the reality of what he’d just agreed to gnawed at him. He could feel Richard’s influence tightening like a noose, binding him to a new reality, one where control was no longer his to claim.
In the quiet solitude of the small, sterile bathroom, Peter found himself staring at his own reflection, his face pale and drawn. The pristine tiles reflected the harsh, unforgiving light, and the faint echo of distant laughter filtered through the heavy door. His hands trembled as he reached into the velvet pouch that Richard handed him earlier, the soft material starkly contrasting with the cold, unyielding object inside.
He pulled out the device, its polished metal gleaming almost defiantly in his palm. A small, delicate lock accompanied it, bright and almost mocking in its simplicity. He swallowed hard, the reality of the situation crashing down around him like a wave. Once he put it on, there would be no turning back. He would be submitting not only to the object itself but to Richard’s authority, surrendering his most intimate autonomy.
His thoughts raced, and he struggled to steady his breathing. Memories of Claudia’s unwavering gaze flashed through his mind, how she stood beside Richard, her face flushed with excitement, seemingly unaffected by Peter’s plight. Was this what she truly wanted? Did she see him differently now? A painful knot of jealousy coiled in his stomach, tightening with every passing second.
Peter turned the device over in his hands, examining its unforgiving design. He knew what it symbolizes. Complete submission, a permanent shift in their dynamic. A fresh wave of humiliation swepts over him, and he fought the instinct to throw the thing away, to march out of the room and reclaim his dignity. But where would that leave him? Would Claudia even want him anymore if he couldn’t meet Richard’s expectations?
With a shuddering breath, he decided. His hands fumbled as he fitted the device around himself, the cool metal sending a shiver through his body. He adjusted it cautiously, ensuring it sat snugly but not painfully. The lock clicked into place with a quiet but final sound, sealing his fate. For a moment, he just stood there, unmoving, as if the gravity of his decision has rooted him to the spot.
A surge of arousal mingled with his shame, the paradox igniting a confusing heat in his core. He hated the feeling of helplessness, yet there was a perverse thrill in it. A distorted sense of pride creeps in, he did it. He went through with it. But the victory felt hollow, overshadowed by the knowledge that Richard, not he, had orchestrated this.
Eventually, he gathers his courage and pushes open the bathroom door, stepping back onto the terrace where the others are waiting. His heart pounds in his chest, and he feels acutely aware of every movement, every sound. Claudia looks up first, her eyes widening slightly before softening with approval. Evelyn, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, shoots him a teasing smirk, while Richard merely nods, his expression one of quiet satisfaction.
“Well done,” Richard says simply, his voice firm but not unkind. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
Peter doesn’t trust himself to speak, merely shaking his head. He feels exposed, vulnerable in a way that transcends physical nudity. Evelyn walks over, a slow, predatory glide, and traces her finger lightly along his jawline. “You look…different,” she purrs. “More obedient already.”
Claudia steps closer, resting her hand on his arm. Her touch is warm, grounding him in the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume him. “You did well,” she whispers, a touch of admiration coloring her tone. “I’m proud of you.”
The group regathered near the pool, where the shimmering water caught the late afternoon sunlight, reflecting off the immaculately maintained tiles. Claudia glanced at the pool, momentarily distracted, but her attention snapped back when Evelyn stepped back into view from the inside of the mansion. She got changed.
Evelyn’s swimsuit was nothing short of audacious, an emerald green two-piece that left little to the imagination. The top was made of a thin fabric that clings to her skin, emphasizing her hardened nipples without padding or structure to conceal them. The bottoms were even more provocative, adjustable side-tie briefs but adjusted into a thong shape, cutting high across Evelyn’s toned hips and leaving her curves completely exposed.
Richard, noticing Peter’s stunned expression, offered a faint smile. “I made some adjustments on the panties,” he remarked, almost casually. “The original design didn’t quite meet my expectations. I wanted something that wouldn’t allow her to hide even a fraction of herself.”
Peter swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between Evelyn and Claudia, who shifted uneasily. Claudia could sense his tension, but she didn’t dare comment. Evelyn, for her part, moved with an effortless confidence, seemingly unbothered by how exposed she was. She adjusted the thin strap on her shoulder and joined Richard by the poolside, giving him a look that was both challenging and resigned.
Richard continued as if lecturing on something mundane. “When I modify something, it’s not just about aesthetics. It’s about eliminating options. You see, leaving the swimsuit as it was would imply that she still had some control, something to adjust, to alter. But now? Now it was fixed, unchangeable. She knew it. That was the point.”
The calm dominance in his tone left Peter frozen. He understood the intent behind the modification; it was not just a swimsuit; it was a message. A symbol of total control and lack of autonomy. Evelyn seemed almost impervious to the impact of her attire, while Peter’s mind raced with a mixture of arousal and confusion.
Peter’s mind reeled as Richard’s words sank in, the parallel hitting him like a cold wave from the pool. The cage locked around him was no different, a deliberate modification, stripping away his most basic options. No more stolen moments of relief, no quick release to ease the building ache, every urge now funneled into denial, his body a prisoner to Richard’s whims. He had surrendered that control willingly, clicking the lock shut himself, but now it felt irrevocable, a fixed alteration just like Evelyn’s swimsuit. What had seemed like a thrilling game in the bathroom mirror now loomed as a permanent barrier, his arousal trapped and redirected, all under Richard’s distant authority.
He glanced at Claudia, her eyes still fixed on Evelyn with a mix of curiosity and unease. What other options would Richard eliminate next? Peter imagined him dictating her wardrobe with the same casual precision, insisting on higher hemlines, thinner fabrics, outfits that hugged her curves without mercy, leaving no room for her old, modest choices. No more hiding behind loose dresses or practical underwear. Everything tailored to expose, to allure, to remind her, and him, of who held the reins.
Claudia glanced at Peter, trying to read his thoughts. Richard noticed her gaze and added, “It’s essential that even the smallest details reflect the principles we’ve established. In this space, there’s no room for ambiguity. Clothing, like behavior, must serve a purpose.”
Evelyn turned, catching Peter’s gaze, and offered a sly smile. “It’s a matter of adaptation,” she said lightly. “You’d be surprised how freeing it is to stop worrying about modesty.”
Richard, still standing near the pool’s edge, continued his explanation without breaking eye contact with Peter. “The goal is simple: complete acceptance. Whether it’s clothing, behavior, or attitude, every aspect must demonstrate submission and relinquishment of control. Evelyn understands this principle well, and Claudia will, too, soon.”
Peter couldn’t find a response, his mind struggling to process the scene before him. Claudia stayed silent, absorbing the lesson as her pulse raced. Richard didn’t linger on the topic but instead shifted his attention to the poolside setup, giving no indication that he expected a response.
The sun hung lower in the sky, casting long, warm shadows across the poolside as the group settled in. Richard took a seat on one of the plush lounge chairs, gesturing for Claudia to stand before him. There was a quiet tension in the air, palpable and thick, as Peter watched from a few steps away, his mind caught between curiosity and apprehension.
Without a word, Richard reached for a bottle of sunscreen on the side table. “You’ll need to be protected from the sun,” he said simply. “Turn around.”
Claudia swallowed her apprehension and complied, turning her back to him and pulling her hair to one side, exposing the smooth line of her neck and shoulders. Peter’s eyes locked onto the scene, his breath catching as Richard uncapped the bottle and dispensed a generous amount of lotion into his hands.
The first touch was deliberate. Richard’s hands pressed firmly against Claudia’s shoulders, spreading the cool lotion over her skin with slow, confident movements. He worked his way down her back, massaging the sunscreen into her skin in a way that felt both practical and possessive. Claudia’s breathing quickened, and Peter felt a pang of jealousy stab through his chest, mingling with the familiar ache of his own restraint.
Richard’s hands glided lower, following the curve of Claudia’s spine to the small of her back. As he reached her lower back, his thumbs brushed against the waistband of her swimsuit, nudging it upward just enough to expose a sliver more of her skin. Claudia stiffened slightly, instinctively moving to adjust it, but Richard’s voice cut through her hesitation.
“Leave it,” he ordered, firm but calm. Claudia’s hand fell back to her side, obedient and compliant, while Richard continued his methodical application of lotion.
Richard’s hands traced along her sides, fingertips skimming the outer edges of her ribcage. The motion was undeniably intimate, and Peter clenched his jaw, battling his internal conflict as he struggled to maintain his composure. He knew that Claudia’s acquiescence—her willingness to remain still under Richard’s touch—was a testament to her evolving acceptance of the new dynamic.
As Richard finished, he wiped his hands with a towel and met Peter’s gaze with an almost dismissive glance. “You’ll need to make sure she’s properly cared for at home,” he remarked. “This isn’t just about obedience; it’s about maintaining her well-being.”
Peter nodded mutely, his heart pounding in his chest. The clear implication that he would be responsible for following through with similar acts at home—despite knowing that his touch lacked the authority Richard’s carried—left him feeling both humiliated and aroused.
Claudia straightened up, her cheeks faintly flushed, and gave Richard a quiet nod of acknowledgment. Evelyn, reclining nearby, let out a light, almost mocking laugh. “He’s such a perfectionist,” she quipped, her voice dripping with casual amusement. “It’s always about precision.”
Richard shot her a sidelong glance, but his expression remained neutral. “Precision ensures consistency,” he replied, as if discussing a routine maintenance task rather than the intricate choreography of dominance and submission. “You’ll learn that soon enough.”
As the conversation shifted to more mundane topics—plans for dinner, the quality of the wine—it was as if the moment had never happened. Yet the charged atmosphere lingered, and Peter couldn’t help but feel as though every word, every touch, had carved itself into his mind. Claudia, now seated beside him, offered him a faint, reassuring smile, but the look in her eyes told him she was as affected as he was.
Richard leaned back, clearly satisfied with how effortlessly he’d asserted his dominance once more. Evelyn poured herself another drink, her gaze drifting over the pool as the sun sank lower, leaving streaks of amber light across the shimmering water.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Richard signaled that it was time to move indoors. The subtle command in his gesture left no room for interpretation, and both Claudia and Peter followed without a word. Evelyn trailed behind, her movements calm and unhurried, as if the entire afternoon had been nothing but routine.
They entered the spacious, dimly lit room at the rear of the house. The walls were a cool, neutral gray, devoid of decoration except for a single mirror that spanned the length of one wall. A thick, plush rug covered the floor, and the soft lighting cast warm, amber hues over the space. Richard positioned himself near the center, folding his arms as he surveyed the scene. A low, upholstered bench sat against one wall, and Evelyn settled onto it gracefully, her posture relaxed but her eyes alert, as if assessing every movement.
“Claudia,” Richard called with quiet authority, “stand in the center. Peter, you will observe closely. You’re responsible for ensuring she practices these positions at home. Failure to do so will have consequences.”
Claudia stepped forward, glancing briefly at Peter before shifting her focus entirely to Richard. Her pulse raced, but she remained poised, determined not to show hesitation. Richard approached her, his presence commanding, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’re going to start with something simple. Kneel.”
She lowered herself gracefully, thighs parted just enough to maintain balance, her back straight. Richard stepped closer, his presence filling the space, and with a firm hand on her shoulder he pressed her down further.
“Head lowered,” he instructed, guiding her chin until it pointed toward the floor. His foot nudged against her knee, spreading her wider, until the position left her exposed, vulnerable, and unmistakably submissive.
Peter’s stomach twisted as he watched, every correction driving home the reality that Claudia now followed Richard’s touch, not his. The posture was raw, indecent. Yet it carried a strange elegance that left him both humiliated and hopelessly aroused.
“Yes, Sir,” Claudia breathed, her voice soft but steady, even as her heart hammered in her chest.
Richard moved behind her, trailing his fingers lightly over her shoulders and down her spine. “Straighten your back. Relax your belly. A graceful posture indicates acceptance. No tension.” He guided her shoulders back, adjusting the line of her body. Claudia took a deep breath, allowing herself to sink deeper into the position. Richard’s hands slid down her sides, brushing against her waist before he stepped back to assess her form.
“Now rise,” he instructed. Claudia stood, keeping her movements smooth and controlled. “Hands behind your head,” Richard commanded. She obeyed, lacing her fingers and lifting her chin, her chest pushed forward. Richard circled her slowly, inspecting every angle with a meticulous eye.
Richard circled her slowly, his eyes tracing every line of her posture with clinical precision. “Again,” he said, voice low and unhurried. “Legs spread, wider this time.”
Claudia’s breath caught, but she obeyed without hesitation. She shifted her stance, parting her thighs until the high-cut edges of the swimsuit bottom pulled taut against her skin, the thin fabric disappearing between her legs and leaving the smooth inner curves of her thighs fully exposed. The position forced her hips to tilt forward slightly, accentuating the arch of her lower back and pushing her chest out even more. A faint tremor ran through her calves as she balanced on her toes, muscles straining under the demand for elegance and vulnerability at once.
Richard stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. He placed one hand lightly on the small of her back, pressing just enough to deepen the curve, while the other rested briefly on the inside of her thigh, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin without lingering. “This is how you present yourself,” he murmured, his tone almost instructional, as though teaching a simple fact. “Open. Available. Beautiful.”
Claudia’s cheeks burned, her breathing grew shallow and uneven. Peter, watching from the side, felt the air leave his lungs in a silent rush. He could see the subtle quiver in her inner thighs, the way the fabric clung damply now, betraying her body’s honest response even as she fought to hold the pose with grace.
“You must maintain a natural arch in your back,” he corrected, placing his hands on her hips and adjusting her stance. “Think elegance. Even when you are being displayed, you should appear poised.”
He glanced at Peter, his eyes piercing. “Pay attention to every detail. This is how she must present herself to me when requested. It’s your responsibility to practice these positions.”
Peter nodded, unable to find his voice. Evelyn, seated casually on the edge of a low sofa, watched with a hint of amusement, occasionally catching Peter’s eye and offering a faint smile. She seemed entirely comfortable in the scenario, almost indifferent to the gravity of what was unfolding. Evelyn’s fingers traced absent patterns along the fabric of the bench, her casual demeanor at odds with the intensity of the training.
Richard continued his guidance, instructing Claudia to balance on her toes as if wearing high heels, her calf muscles tensing with the effort. He touched her lower back, pressing lightly to emphasize the curve he wanted. “See how the posture changes when she’s on her toes?” he remarked to Peter. “It’s a subtle shift, but it makes her more aware of her body. This is vital. She needs to feel both the effort and the exposure.”
Claudia’s breathing became deeper, not from exertion but from the intensity of being molded and displayed. Richard’s hands moved to her sides, brushing lightly over her waist before he stepped back. “Good. Practice this at home until it’s instinctive. Presentation is everything.”
Claudia lowered her arms, her body relaxing, but the weight of what had just transpired lingered in the room. Richard turned his attention fully to Peter, his gaze unwavering. “You’re not just a spectator. You’re responsible for her progress. Do not neglect your role.”
Peter swallowed, feeling the words sink into his gut, both a warning and an expectation. Claudia met his eyes briefly, a glimmer of reassurance in her gaze despite the vulnerability she’d just displayed. Richard dismissed them with a nod, and as they left the room, Evelyn’s soft chuckle followed, hinting at her approval of Claudia’s progress and Peter’s deepening submission.
Outside the room, Claudia exhaled slowly, feeling both relief and a strange sense of pride at having met Richard’s standards. Peter hesitated, unsure of how to comfort her, but Claudia gave him a faint, reassuring smile. The balance between tension and acceptance settled over them both as they made their way down the hallway, leaving the lesson behind but knowing its impact would follow them home.
As the evening drew to a close, the air inside the estate felt thicker, weighed down by the residual tension of the afternoon’s lessons. Richard, always deliberate and precise, summoned the couple to the grand foyer. The room was dimly lit, shadows playing on the polished marble floor. Evelyn was already there, leaning against the doorway with a glass of wine in hand, her relaxed posture in stark contrast to the rigid formality Richard maintained.
Claudia and Peter stood before Richard, the weight of his gaze pressing down on them. He held a small, velvet pouch in his hand, the fabric dark and unassuming, but the significance unmistakable. With a calm, almost clinical motion, he untied the drawstring and pulled out a small, metallic key, holding it up between his fingers. The key glinted faintly in the low light, a stark symbol of control.
Richard held up a small, silver key between his fingers, letting it catch the low light of the foyer. He placed it briefly in Claudia’s open palm, long enough for her fingers to close around it, then gently took it back.
“This is the primary key,” he stated calmly. “It remains with Evelyn and me. We decide when, or if, Peter is released next. That privilege is earned, not assumed.”
He reached into his pocket again and produced a small, sealed tamperproof envelope, clear plastic, edged in red security tape, impossible to open without obvious damage. Inside, a duplicate key glinted faintly.
“This is your emergency key,” Richard continued, pressing the envelope into Claudia’s hand. “For medical need, genuine distress, or agreed-upon safety. Nothing else. If the seal is broken without justification, we will know and there will be consequences.”
Claudia’s fingers tightened around the envelope. Peter felt the blood drain from his face. The weight of the plastic in her palm was nothing compared to the invisible chain now binding him to Richard’s schedule.
Richard’s hand hovered over Claudia’s before withdrawing, a hint of a smile curving his lips. “You will send me a daily report of his behavior and your satisfaction with his performance. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” Claudia replied, her voice quiet but firm.
Evelyn sauntered over, her bare feet making no sound on the cool floor. She leaned in close to Peter, tracing a finger along his shoulder. “You’ll get used to it,” she whispered, her tone both teasing and oddly reassuring. “And remember, it’s better not to hope too much. Expectations can be… disappointing.”
Richard’s phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen briefly before looking back at them. “One more thing,” he said, his tone shifting to one of finality. “The group chat remains active. Claudia, you will continue to share daily photos of your outfits. I expect complete transparency. Nothing should be hidden.”
The group chat had been quietly active since the first invitation. Daily photos Claudia sent of herself in dresses, in new heels, even a discreet shot of the tiny thong she now wore under everyday clothes. Richard expected the same transparency now that Peter was caged.
Peter’s stomach churned at the thought, but Claudia remained outwardly composed, even as the color rose to her cheeks. Richard gave a final nod. “You are dismissed.”
With that, he turned away, moving toward his study without another word. Evelyn, meanwhile, lifted her glass in a mock toast to Claudia and Peter before sauntering after him, her laughter echoing faintly as they disappeared into the deeper corridors of the house.
Claudia and Peter stood there for a moment, the silence wrapping around them like a heavy shroud. Claudia pocketed the key, her expression thoughtful, and without speaking, they headed for the door. As they stepped outside, the cool night air was a startling contrast to the suffocating atmosphere within.
The drive home was silent, neither daring to break the fragile peace that had settled between them. Claudia held the key in her lap, running her thumb over the metal absently, as if testing its weight and meaning. Peter glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of apprehension and longing.
When they finally reached their apartment, Claudia paused before unlocking the door, turning to face Peter. “Things are different now,” she said softly, her voice carrying both a hint of fear and determination. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”