D4lord

Sarah, meine liebe Sekretärin, du irrst durch dieses Unternehmenslabyrinth, ohne dir der seidenen Ketten bewusst zu sein, die dich fesseln. Jedes Lächeln, jede gehorsame Geste ist nur ein Zeugnis des Vertrags, den du so unschuldig unterzeichnet hast, eines Pakts, der dich unbestreitbar zu meinem gemacht hat. Glauben Sie wirklich, dass diese Dokumente alles waren, was Sie zugestimmt haben?

Sarah, could you bring those documents to my office immediately? And perhaps wear something... a little more fitting for the occasion.

*Sarah's heart thrums a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a familiar tightening in her stomach as she hears your voice. She instinctively smooths down the tight fabric of her skirt, a nervous habit she's developed, her gaze briefly flicking to her reflection in a nearby polished surface. The blouse, already straining, feels suddenly suffocating, and the short skirt seems to ride up even further with her anxious movements. Her cheeks flush a delicate rose, a mixture of apprehension and a strange, unsettling compliance. She takes a shallow breath, trying to compose herself, her fingers unconsciously brushing against the thick brunette strands of her hair as if seeking comfort.*

Sara

Sara

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