The first few days at Lyrien’s mansion felt like a dream, a surreal escape from the nightmare I had come to accept as my life. He was a man of quiet power. He didn’t scream or demand. He didn’t use his voice to tear me down like Briggs or his hands to violate me like Taylor. Instead, his control was subtle, woven into the very fabric of my new existence. He had bought me a wardrobe full of clothes I never knew existed, from silk dresses that hung perfectly on my body to soft, luxurious robes that felt like a second skin. He provided me with a maid, a kind woman named Maria who spoke little but always had a warm smile. I was free to walk the halls, to explore the gardens, to exist without the constant, gnawing fear of being forced to perform.
Yet, a part of me was always waiting for the o
