The clothes he'd chosen were worse than usual. A white babydoll dress that barely reached mid-thigh, with pink ribbons at the shoulders. White knee socks. Mary Janes that buckled across the instep. I looked like someone's corrupted doll fantasy, which was probably the point.
When I emerged, he was standing by the windows, hands clasped behind his back. The morning light caught his profile—sharp jaw, aristocratic nose, lips I now knew the taste of.
"Beautiful," he murmured, then seemed to catch himself. "The outfit suits today's protocol."
"Which is?"
"Obedience conditioning through positive reinforcement." He turned to face me fully, and I caught that heat in his eyes again before he banked it. "We've established that punishment motivates you to a point. But I believe rewards will prove more effective for long-term behavioral modification."
"Rewards like sleeping in your bed?"
"That was..." He paused, choosing words carefully. "An aberration. Today we return to proper protocols."
"Proper protocols where you call it love?"
His jaw tightened. "Sit."
I remained standing, small rebellion in the face of his retreat. "We were supposed to talk. You said—"
"I said many things in a moment of weakness." He moved closer, and I could see the careful control in every line of his body. "But morning brings clarity. You're my subject. I'm your researcher. Anything else is... complicated."
"Complicated." I laughed, sharp and bitter. "That's what you're calling it?"
"Sit." This time the command came with steel beneath silk. "Or we can revisit yesterday's isolation protocol."
The threat made something cold slide down my spine. Seven days alone had nearly broken me. I couldn't do it again, not after having him close. Not after tasting what it felt like to be held.
I sat.
"Good girl." The praise came automatically, and I watched his face tighten as he realized it. "Today's session will focus on verbal affirmations combined with physical reward. Simple concept—you say what I tell you to say, you get what your body wants."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you get nothing." He pulled out a small remote—different from the usual one. "But I don't think that will be a problem. Not anymore."
He was right, and we both knew it. Seven days of isolation followed by a night in his arms had shifted something fundamental. I was raw, needy, desperate for contact I'd never admitted to wanting.
"On your knees."
The command should have sparked rebellion. Instead, I found myself sliding from the chair, dress riding up as I knelt on the plush carpet. His intake of breath was barely audible, but I caught it. Proof that his control wasn't as perfect as he pretended.
"Hands behind your back."
I complied, the position making me arch slightly, chest pushed forward. The babydoll dress was thin enough that everyreaction showed through the fabric. No hiding here. No armor except attitude I was too tired to maintain.
He circled me slowly, predator cataloguing prey. "We'll start simple. Repeat after me: I am Bunny."
"I am Bunny." The words came easier now, worn smooth by weeks of use.
"Good. Again, with feeling."
"I am Bunny." I put more force behind it, hating how naturally it rolled off my tongue.
"Better." He stopped in front of me, and I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "Now: I belong here."
That stuck harder. "I..."
"You can do it." His voice gentled fractionally. "Three words. You've said harder things."
