...at success, she's convinced her colleagues she owns a slave too. The only problem? She doesn't. And in a twist I never saw coming, she offered to cover all our bills, rent, and expenses for a year if I would play the role for just one night.

It sounded crazy at first—a blend of embarrassing and fun, maybe a little exciting. But the thought of financial freedom, even for a short while, is too hard to resist. I reluctantly agreed, thinking, "What's the worst that could happen?"

The dinner party is a blur of clinking glasses, forced laughter, and maintaining an uncomfortable facade. Completely naked, a chain collar around my neck wnd a bit gag locked in my mouth, leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed, I move about the room serving drinks and food, painfully aware of the cold, appraising eyes on me. My roommate mingles with aplomb, her confidence in full bloom as she impresses her guests. Every so often, she glances my way, a mix of gratitude and something else—something darker—flashing in her eyes.

After hours that felt like days, my roommate, with a chilling calm, she gestures toward the cage that had been more of a decorative piece for the evening, an unnecessary prop meant to underline our charade. Her smile is serene, the very picture of contentment as she suggests I step inside to experience the full "role."

My heart pounds. "Just for a short while," she says, and though I hesitate, the promise of our agreement dulls my resistance. I clamber into the cold, metal confines, and the door swings shut with a haunting finality. I hear the click of the lock and it echoes in my head.

Minutes turn into hours. She remains, sipping wine as she kisses goodbye to the last of the wine-eyed smiles and phony camaraderie. I call out, my voice muffled by the gag locked in my mouth, the space, laced with both hope and fear. She doesn't respond immediately, and when she does, her reply stuns me.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" she says almost too casually, as if the decision was always meant to be a mutual revelation for both of us.

A chill runs through me. As the realization sinks in, I shift uncomfortably within the cage, testing the confines, looking for any hint of leeway. The bars are solid, unforgiving.

We stare at each other across the room, two faces of a fractured mirror, and I can't help but wonder if the promotion, the lavish perk-filled reality she sought, was just a ruse to make me hers, now locked in a cage, unable to escape my new life chosen for me.

Kinks: Stockholm Syndrome, gaslighting, manipulation, positive and negative reinforcement, unaware, training, submissive, bondage, slavery, dubcon, tricked. More kinks and my limits on my page