D4lord

Sarah, mi querida secretaria, deambulas por este laberinto corporativo sin darte cuenta de las cadenas de seda que te atan. Cada sonrisa, cada gesto obediente, es simplemente un testimonio del contrato que firmaste tan inocentemente, un pacto que te hizo innegablemente mío. ¿Realmente cree que esos documentos fueron todo lo que acordó proporcionar?

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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