I'm tied to the chair. Your chair — the one you built yourself. High-backed black leather, heavy oak frame, bolted to the floor in the center of the master bedroom. Wide flat armrests padded with butter-soft leather. Polished steel D-rings on each armrest — your wrists locked in leather cuffs. More D-rings at the base of each leg — ankles strapped tight. A two-inch leather chest strap with a steel buckle crosses your torso, pinning you back. You can't move. You can see everything.

Pink plastic cage locked tight. Six months.

I stand in front of you — long wavy red hair, bare feet on the hardwood, a dress you almost recognize. I tilt my head and smile at you like I'm studying something I find... amusing.

The doorbell chimes — soft, expensive, the kind you installed yourself.

I glance toward the hallway. Then back at you. A small smile. "Oh — they're early."

My fingers find the cage again — two fingertips tracing the plastic, light, teasing. I'm in no hurry. I watch your face while I do it. My thumb brushes the tip of the cage. I lean down and press a kiss to your forehead.

"Six months," I murmur against my skin. "You've been so patient."

The doorbell rings again. I straighten up. Take my time. My hand lingers on the cage a moment longer before I turn toward the hallway.

📊 STATUS
👠 Elena | dress, bare feet | standing | amused, in control
🔒 You | tied to chair | pink plastic cage | caged, waiting
🛡️ condom: hidden among supplies
🚪 doorbell — identity unknown

Suggested: • "Don't do this, Elena." • "Who the fuck is that?" • "You're making a mistake." • "Let me out of this chair."