“You can’t seriously expect me to wear this.” Beatrice held the mini dress up to her body, wrinkling her nose at the ruffled hems and floral pattern.

Her phone crackled on her dresser, Levi’s exasperated sigh whooshing through the speakers. “Why must you insist on making every morning a battle?”

“I just don’t get it.” She struck a half-hearted pose in the mirror. The skirt had been short when she bought it, but now it barely covered her crotch. Were she to wear this, she wouldn’t even be able to sip from a drinking fountain without flashing passersby. The thought sent a shiver dancing down her neck. “I have plenty of other cute outfits—why do you always pick the ones that make me look like some kinda retro pin-up? Does the whole reincarnation thing come with eternal boomer taste?”

“Eternal what?”

“Never mind. What I’m saying is, if you want me to feel sexy, or desirable, or whatever, wouldn’t it make more sense to let me choose my own clothes?”

A dry chuckle. “It would, if you weren’t so deeply in denial.”

“In d…” Beatrice’s eyes widened. “Are you saying I secretly want to dress up this way?”

“A part of you does, anyway. And that’s enough for my purposes, so…”

Beatrice suppressed a groan, for once grateful that Levi was too curmudgeonly to facetime. If he could see her now, he would probably take her restless pacing as evidence that he was right, that it secretly turned her on to look like his dainty little servant girl. But that wasn’t the truth. It couldn’t be. She was just…frustrated. That was why her face was so hot and her jaw was so tight.

Levi continued: “In any case, it’s not up for debate. Now, be a good girl and put that dress on for me.”

“B-but…huhhh…” Beatrice frowned, her shoulders slumping as her argument vanished into a disorienting fog. Suddenly, all she could think about was putting on the dress. Like a good girl. Even as she knew that this was Levi’s doing, even as she registered he’d regained enough power to control her again, these realizations sparked no resistance. Fighting her Master was impossible. She could only stare into her own dulling eyes as his words coiled around her brain, trapping it in the same looping impulses. Be a good girl. Put on the dress. Be a good girl. Put on the dress. Be a…

“Good girl,” Levi purred.

Beatrice’s eyelids fluttered as she returned to her senses. She stumbled a little, her thighs rippling in the mirror, the tiny dress flouncing uselessly above them. A pout formed on her lips as her dazed mind processed her new outfit. It always felt so odd, coming out of the demon’s control like this. At least when he only seized her body, she was fully cognizant of it. But when he took her mind as well, the ensuing haze lingered even when his influence receded, leaving confusing tingles in its wake.

“I can tell you like it,” the demon taunted.

“Sh-shut up! I do not!” Beatrice shifted her hips, watching the skirt swish back and forth, occasionally revealing a glimpse of the pink panties underneath. Her breasts strained against their tight, frilly enclosure, longing to break free. “It doesn’t even fit anymore. There’s no way my parents are gonna let me leave the house like this.”

“They might ask you to change,” Levi admitted. “Or they might not. That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

Beatrice’s heart raced. He was really going to do it. He was going to make her show up at the mall dressed like a teen-dream sexpot. The thought made her squirm, as if she could already feel the leering stares and hear the snickering gossip. A trembling heat rose inside her, pooling in the tattoo emblazoned above her snatch. She balled the hem of the dress in her fists, stretching and pulling as though she could somehow block out the growing warmth.

“Wh-what if we made another deal?” she blurted out.

There was a pause. “A deal?”

“Yeah, like with my homework.” Beatrice swallowed. “I-I’ll, y’know, um, get myself off so you…get what you need, and then there’s no reason for me to wear this.” In the silence that followed, she could almost hear the demon’s thoughts turning. Perhaps another push was necessary. “Look, I know you really want to get all your powers back, but if you take things too far, people are gonna start asking questions. And the whole ‘I’m still trying to blackmail you’ excuse won’t be enough.”

“A fair point,” came his begrudging reply. “Very well. But on one condition: you will not come without my permission. Understand?”

Beatrice bit her lip, lifting the dress just enough to peek at the growing wet spot on her panties. “Uh…is that really necessary? Wouldn’t it just be easier to just—”

“I have my reasons. Now do you accept the terms or not?”

“…Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master. Ah--!” The crest sent an appreciative throb into her.

“Good girl. Now do as you’re told.”

You mean as I bargained for, Beatrice thought, even as she practically skipped to her bed. She threw herself onto the mattress, letting out a low, satisfied moan as her hand found the damp fabric between her legs. How the hell was she this horny already? Had Levi been nudging her this entire time? Or…had he been right about her secret desires?

The thought was maddening. So much so that it made her hands tremble as she slid her panties down, desperate to relieve the heat building inside her. Tossing the garment aside, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Her tiny dress had ridden all the way up to her stomach, placing her glistening pussy and glowing tattoo on full display. Her tits were practically spilling out of the top, her hair wild and her expression vacant and hungry.

The image was arresting. But it didn’t stop her hand from seeking her soaking folds, stroking them and teasing her clit as she gasped at her own degradation. She looked like a slut. Like a pathetic whore. This wasn’t the badass bitch Lucy had talked about. This was a weak, silly, stupid girl with no thoughts in her head besides what she could put between her legs. And it was this Beatrice, this mewling, horny, dripping sex pet that Levi wanted to show to the world.

Imagine if the world saw her.

Beatrice gripped the sheets as desire twisted and tightened inside her. The demon’s crest quivered and pulsed, sending fresh shockwaves of bliss every time her palm graced it. She didn’t want Levi to be right about her. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about it? Why was she imagining herself in public right now, exposed and open to all, unable to shield herself from the shame and humiliation?

And why was the demon there too? Why was it his smile she dreaded and desired the most? Why was it his hand she pictured sliding beneath her skirt?

She was close. As the Levi in her fantasy toyed with her flesh, Beatrice sensed release within her grasp. She chased the feeling, juices gushing between her fingers as she slipped them inside, pumping and moaning with animalistic need. It was coming. It was coming. She was…

She wouldn’t come without Master’s permission.

A heavy haze descended on Beatrice, and her limbs went limp. Her hips twitched, her pussy desperate and aching, but she couldn’t move to satisfy it. It was as though she’d suddenly forgotten how to masturbate, her body thrumming with a desire she didn’t know how to sate. At least, not until the cresting wave had subsided, and her awareness returned with excruciating clarity.

“Is something wrong?” the smug bastard on the phone asked.

“Whyyyyyy…?” Beatrice moaned, her voice shaking with frustration. Was he insane? She knew it took energy for him to stop her like that. Yet he was willing to go that far, just to deny her? Why?

“Because you need to learn. Good girls don’t come without their Master’s permission.”

“C-c’mon I know you want it too. Pretty please..?” Beatrice tried not to sound desperate, but it was difficult with her fingers already returning to her needy cunt. “Wh-what if I gave you two orgasms? No, three?”

A faint grunt was his only reply. Beatrice’s ears pricked up. Was that the rustling of clothes she just heard? Was his breathing louder than it’d been moments earlier?

Was he…jerking off to this?

A hot splash of humiliation and arousal coated her skin. It was bad enough that Levi was using her as some kinda feeding stock, but for him to get off on the sounds of her suffering? It was almost too much. It was so perverse, so sadistic, so…

So incredibly, horribly hot.

The awful, wonderful tension was building inside her, threatening to break as she rocked her pelvis against her beckoning hand. She pawed at her tits, yanking their frilly frame down to let them fall into her grasp. From her curling toes to the tips of her stiff, sensitive nipples, every inch of Beatrice was crying for relief. She let out another moan, hoping Levi could hear it. Hoping she could tempt him into releasing her at last.

“Please…Master…” she panted. “Let me show you how good I can be. Let me come for you. As many times as you want.”

She sensed his temptation, heard it in every strained, hungry puff of static. He must’ve been getting close too. She could picture him at his desk, his shirt unbuttoned and his pants on the floor, his flushed cock straining in his hands as he stroked with increasing desperation. Could she push him over the edge? Could she make him come with just the sounds of her pleasure? Beatrice wasn’t sure, but the possibility brought her to the brink.

Her back arched. Her hand pinched and twisted her nipple until pain and pleasure became indistinguishable. She whined. “M-Master, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

She wouldn’t come without her Master’s permission.

A shuddering, broken sound leaked from Beatrice’s mouth, her fumbling, useless body melting into uncontrollable shakes. The chains of Master’s power captured her completely, erasing her thoughts with mind-blanking need. Even when his influence waned, she couldn’t bring herself to move. She was truly helpless, paralyzed with thwarted desire, sharp, high-pitched gasps breaking from her pathetic, panting lips.

“Beg for it, slave,” her Master growled. “Beg for your reward.”

The command wasn’t laced with demonic power. But it didn’t matter anymore. The words were spilling from Beatrice of their own accord, as freely as the arousal soaking her sheets. “Please Master, please let me come, I’ll do anything, please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease…”

“Good girl. Come for me.”

Beatrice shoved her face into the pillow, barely containing her scream as the orgasm erupted through her. Delirious ecstasy surged from her crest, flooding the deepest parts of her body and mind. For a brief moment, she was happy to be his. Happy that he’d denied her for so long. Happy to be his good girl and come on his command, surrendering completely to the bliss of his control.

The sensations gradually receded. Beatrice stared at the ceiling, her breath falling in time to the static on her phone. She vaguely wondered if Levi had finished as well. For some reason, she hoped he had.

“Very good,” the demon exhaled. “As we agreed, you may now wear what you wish. I doubt that dress is still presentable anyway.”

“Thank you, Master,” Beatrice mumbled, her head still buzzing. She glanced at her reflection, meeting her own eyes through dark, disheveled strands of hair. Levi was right: the dress was ruined. It looked the way Beatrice felt—sopping, sticky, tangled and stretched beyond its natural state, reduced to a pitiful, useless mess.

And yet…it was one she wanted to lie in. Just a little while longer.

She wasn’t wearing it for him. That’s what Beatrice kept telling herself.

For all the morning’s strife, her choice of outfit erred on the slutty side anyway, her torso wrapped in a tiny crop-top with a cut-out framing her prominent, pushed-up cleavage. The denim jacket was her one compromise to modesty and taste, allowing her to both slip by her parents and assure herself that she wasn’t trying to get a rise out of Levi. Sure, the thought had crossed her mind. And yes, she did unfasten the buttons as soon as she was out the door. But maybe she just felt like looking a little sexy today. Maybe she wanted to feel the autumn air on her hot skin. Maybe she didn’t mind how her nipples stiffened against the tight white fabric.

Levi certainly wouldn’t.

The demon was in a good mood today. Beatrice sensed it in her crest as his truck drew near, and her intuition was confirmed as he parked and threw the door open with a welcoming grin. She hurried down the driveway, hopping into the passenger seat before anyone could glimpse the driver. The impulse seemed strange the very next moment. After all, it wasn’t like her parents or neighbors knew who Levi was, or would even offer comment if they did. Still, old habits were hard to shake, and the idea of being seen dressed like a slut with the school outcast retained an edge of scandal and danger. Not that the outfit was for him, of course.

“You’ve chosen well,” the demon commented, his eyes devouring her. “Perhaps this will be easier than I anticipated.”

“Hh--!” Beatrice sucked in a sharp breath as a tremor of pleasure ran through her crest. She fumbled with the seatbelt, trying and failing to retain her composure. “Th-thanks. But I didn’t choose this just for you, y’know.”

“Of course not.” Levi chuckled, backing the truck out of the driveway and into the street.

“A-anyway, is this really why you were so desperate to stop me from getting detention? So we could go to the mall together?”

“No. We avoided detention so that you would be free to do as I please. And it pleases me to take you to the mall today.”

“Why, so you can parade me around like some kinda pet?” As soon as she’d said it, Beatrice wasn’t sure why that notion had popped into her head. Nor why Levi’s mischievous glance made her thighs clench.

“Only if you misbehave.” He laughed. “But barring that, this will be nothing more than a simple shopping trip.”

“Okay…for what, though?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Your new uniforms, of course. It’s become clear over the past few days that your wardrobe is rather lacking in suitable attire.”

“Y’mean like that stupid dress you were trying to make me wear?”

“In a sense. Though even that had its issues. After all, it’s unlikely any you’d be able to attend school in such an ill-fitting outfit. So my hope is to find a few…less controversial options.”

Beatrice grimaced. She couldn’t really argue with that mission statement. Even though her closet offered plenty of cute and trendy options, the items that Levi always zeroed in on, the stuff that really made her blush and squirm, had so far been either formalwear she’d gotten for one-off occasions, or girly garments she’d long since outgrown. Either way, the selection wasn’t sustainable. So maybe letting Levi pick out a few sensible choices wasn’t the worst idea ever. Even if the prospect of spending all day with him still made her nervous.

She sighed, fighting down her jitters. “Does this mean you’ll actually listen to me if I tell you something is a no-go?”

“Oh, I’ll be paying very close attention. Just not exclusively to your words.” His eyes flicked down to her crest.

Beatrice crossed her legs, and looked out the window with a huff. “Whatever. Maybe at least you’ll learn a thing or two about good taste.”

“I’m looking forward to your guidance,” he chuckled.

Beatrice rolled her eyes, but didn’t retort. Fortunately, Levi didn’t needle her any further, and the conversation lapsed into a mutual silence. As identical houses and lawns gave way to strip malls and chain restaurants, the outline of the Nine Courts Shopping Center appeared over the manicured treetops. The bustling parking lot and shiny, angular buildings were a welcome sight to Beatrice. The mall was a temple to commerce and image, and she was a learned cleric of the faith. Thanks to the tutelage of Lucy and her friends, Beatrice was as comfortable among the glitzy storefronts as she was in her own home, and could practically navigate the polished floors blindfolded. She knew which stores had clearance racks worth perusing, and which “designer outlets” were anything but; she knew the clerks and baristas she could flirt with for discounts, and the creeps she should avoid at the checkout counter. She even knew which waiters were least likely to card during the dinnertime rush, especially if the request was sweetened with a doe-eyed smile.

So it was with some excitement that she stepped into the sunlit atrium, despite the demon’s shadow following close behind.

“Well then.” Levi gestured vaguely. “Lead the way.”

Beatrice’s eyebrows rose, unable to hide their surprise. “Really? Uh, okay. What sort of things did you have in mind?”

“I don’t. That’s why you’re taking point. Remember, this isn’t about suiting my taste. It’s about revealing yours.”

“Oh, right.” Beatrice scoffed. “You still thing I’m a closeted slut or whatever.”

“Not my choice of words. But an interesting one nonetheless.” A wicked gleam entered his eyes. “If you’d prefer, I can make the decisions for you.”

“N-no that’s fine.” She quickly looked away, choosing a direction before he got any more ideas. “Let’s, uh, let’s start over here.”

“Let’s.” Levi trailed her with a grin.

Thus began the party’s winding search through the chic boutiques and department stores. Lacking any clear directive, Beatrice began among the aisles she frequented with her friends, exploring outfits that ranged from cozy and cute to sleek and slightly sporty. All of these she offered for Levi’s appraisal, ducking into dressing rooms with stacks of clothing before emerging and modeling to his satisfaction. Or lack thereof, as the case often was. Sometimes, his veto would come before she’d even stepped into view, a disapproving grunt reaching her ears while she was still fixing herself in the mirror. Other times, a thoughtful silence would settle as she posed and turned, his gaze gliding across her body, tracing it with appreciation as she pretended not to notice. The longer these moments stretched, the tighter Beatrice’s breath became, her crest warming under the dark glow of his stare. Even when he inevitably turned the outfit down, the heat inside her would linger, bearing her hopes aloft as she moved onto the next set of selections. She could tell he wanted her, could tell that he was enjoying the show. But he was searching for something behind her appearance, some intangible quality Beatrice couldn’t quite grasp, despite her mounting desire to do so.

Then she found the dress.

It was a ridiculous choice, baby blue and sleeveless, with a see-through lace mesh stretching above the chest. The moment she picked it up, Beatrice wasn’t sure why she’d even considered it. Such a dainty choice wouldn’t fit in with the rest of her wardrobe, nor with that of her friends and peers. Yet as she started to set the garment back, a pang of regret forced a moment’s hesitation. She glanced over her shoulder, and caught Levi’s eyes staring into hers. He smiled. Without a word passing between them, Beatrice hurried back to the changing room.

Her heart pounded as she slipped the dress on, as though she’d swam a hundred meters to seize its soft fabric. The fit was a little tight, but not unpleasantly so. The skirt flared just right, and the waist was slimming without squeezing or pinching her stomach. Beatrice exhaled, trying to calm her racing pulse. But her body refused to settle—even her eyes couldn’t decide where to rest, darting between her exposed legs, her naked shoulders, and her blushing, stricken expression. Her hands fumbled for the back, and discovered that she needed help zipping the dress closed. The idea of Levi seeing her like this sent nervous tingles across her skin. Nonsensical questions and fears ran circles around her head. What if he laughed at her? What if he hated it? What if he loved it? What if he made her wear it all the time? Wouldn’t that be awful? Would it be?

“Is everything alright in there?” Levi asked, the echo of a smirk in his voice.

Beatrice shut her eyes. There was no getting out of this. And that was the most terrifying, exciting thought of all. “I-I…I think I need some help zipping it up.”

After an excruciatingly long silence, the curtain rustled behind her. She remained frozen in place, not daring face him, though unable to say why. Her gaze remained low, only occasionally darting up to glimpse the demon looming in the mirror. He reached for her hair first, parting it to the side before tracing a finger down to where the zipper began. Her breath caught as his hand settled on the small of her back, keeping her in place while he closed the dress in one slow, deliberate motion. She could feel him watching her the whole time, studying her reddening, downcast face. He liked what he saw. And as his hands slid off her back, Beatrice had to admit...she did to.

“This is what we’re looking for,” he murmured. “It suits you perfectly.”

“I-it does?” Beatrice smoothed the skirt with a nervous laugh. “I-I dunno. My legs look so…huge whenever I wear stuff like this. And my man-shoulders are just…ugh. I can’t even look at them.”

“Oh? Interesting. I think they’re quite nice.” Levi gave the offending muscles a gentle squeeze. She stiffened. “And sensitive too,” he laughed.

“Sh-shut up.” Beatrice lifted her fingers to his, only to find she couldn’t bring herself to push them away. His hands were so firm, yet tender and warm against her bare skin. He’d touched her plenty of times before, but this was different. There was something so…intimate about his grasp on her shoulders, something that felt far more delicate and dangerous than his prior advances. Almost by accident, Beatrice met her own gaze in the mirror, and nearly didn’t recognize what she saw. The woman standing before her was like a beautiful doll, fragile and precious in the hands of the shadow behind her. Her eyes were glassy and dazed, yet beneath their shining surfaces churned desires darker than she could decipher. As if pulled by a shift in gravity, she felt herself listing back, gently pressing against the man who had captured her. She wasn’t quite sure if he’d pulled her into him, or if she’d chosen to fall. Either way, his body supported her effortlessly, her head resting on his solid chest, rising and falling with each quiet breath.

His lips hovered close to her ear, and his voice seemed to rumble inside her head as he spoke. “You will wear this for me, won’t you?”

Beatrice swallowed. She could fight the answer. But she couldn’t deny it. “Yes, Master,” she whispered.

______________________________________

Beatrice had never left a changing room wet before. But then again, it was becoming a day full of firsts.

She tried to ignore the squish of her panties as she slipped into the checkout line, clutching the dress against her still-fluttering stomach. Even as she slid the garment across the counter and refused yet another rewards card, her mind remained locked in that dressing room, replaying the same thirty seconds until they stretched for an eternity. The feelings that had thundered through her, the echoes of sensations still reverberating now…they were so familiar, yet equally alien as well. She’d felt sexy before…but not like that. She’d felt vulnerable and feminine before…but not quite like that. It was as though she’d glimpsed a different Beatrice in the mirror, an uncanny yet alluring apparition, begging for her corporeal copy to draw closer, to sink past the glass and uncover her mysteries.

But what would Beatrice find waiting for her there? Was it just an illusion conjured to ensnare her? Or a revelation threatening to consume her?

She returned to Levi clouded by these thoughts, a fact which he apparently noticed. “Is everything alright?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Beatrice exhaled. “Just, uh, trying to figure out where we should go next. We’re a little outside my area of expertise at this point.”

Levi nodded, though his expression didn’t change. “Don’t overthink it. It’s less about fashion and more about feelings. So don’t hesitate to go with your gut.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t actually have to wear any of this stuff.”

“A pity, no?”

Beatrice blinked. Then laughed. “Oh wow. Did you actually make a joke just now?”

“Perhaps.” He smiled. “I’m a man of many talents after all.”

“Uh-huh.” She retook the lead with a brisk step. “Well if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather move on before you get any other funny ideas.”

Their shopping resumed with renewed spirit, the recent purchase going along way to narrowing Beatrice’s search. Even so, it still felt like she was navigating uncharted territory, relying more on trial and error than a strong sense of direction. Occasionally, she would spy a sweater or skirt that would evoke an excited tremor, only for it to deaden the moment she lifted the garment from the rack. Then all it took was a skeptical look at Levi to confirm that the choice was a bust. Though if it was cute enough, she would sometimes try it on anyway. Just because she was altering her wardrobe at the behest of a lust demon didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun with it.

A few more successful outfits landed in her bag, but the thread connecting them remained frustratingly tangled. Every successful find came with a rush of seemingly contradictory emotions: arousal, dread, revulsion, revelation, surrender and emancipation. Parsing the truth behind these paradoxes would be daunting in the best of circumstances, but the growing haze in her frazzled head made the task almost impossible. When a floral blouse and mini-skirt sent her pulse skipping, she finally had to ask.

“So…like…” She gave one last swish and turn for Levi’s inspection. “When you said I secretly want to wear these sort of things…what exactly did you mean?”

The demon’s gaze lifted from her legs to her eyes. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“W-well you seem to think you know me pretty well so…why would it, y’know, turn me on to dress like this? And why would I be in denial about it?”

Levi shrugged. “Just because I can sense certain feelings doesn’t mean I understand their origin. They could spring from any number of erotic associations or repressed wishes.”

“Great.” Beatrice sighed. “Some help you are.”

Levi’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Would you believe me if I told you it was out of a desire to please me? That you secretly crave submission and humiliation, especially in service to my whims?”

Beatrice’s throat tightened, but she managed to turn away and scoff. “Good point. I forgot you were full of shit.”

“I don’t ask for your belief. Only your obedience.” His hand rested on the nape of her neck. “And you’re becoming quite skilled in that regard, aren’t you?”

“I…” Beatrice swallowed. A part of her bristled at his patronizing tone, but dressed as she was, with the massaging of his fingertips sending shivers through her blood, it felt only right to murmur: “Yes, Master.”

“Good girl. And that’s why you’re going to wear this out for me, aren’t you?”

She tensed. “Y’mean like…right now? Today?”

“Of course. After we’ve paid, you can come back here and change. Consider it the first trial of your new wardrobe.”

“H-hang on a sec. Isn’t that taking things kinda far? I mean, we just—hhaah!” Beatrice bit her lip as Levi’s power seized her crest, pleasure flooding her body and sending giddy bubbles through her brain.

The demon leaned closer, his words rippling through the happy chemicals. “You will do this because it pleases me. And there is nothing that brings you greater joy than that. Understand?”

“Yes…Master…” she nodded with a vacant smile.

“Good girl. Now,” he gave her a subtle pat, “off you go.”

Beatrice tottered back into the dressing room, moving as though she were in a dream. Her head felt fuzzy and floaty, her senses dulled save for the burning needs of her sensitive, insatiable flesh. Aftershocks of her Master’s power cascaded through her, coaxing her overheating body into obeying his commands. It wasn’t long before she was standing beside him again, her old clothing stashed in her shopping bag, and her newly purchased uniform marking her as his. And somehow, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her closer, she didn’t mind at all.

“That’s a good girl.” Levi smiled. “Why don’t we call it a day a head back to my place? I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

Beatrice didn’t trust herself to speak. So she just nodded, and followed the demon towards the shop entrance, her mind swirling with the horrible, incredible possibilities of his promise. Then they stepped out into the bright light of the mall’s main walkways, and the eyes of the world fell upon her.

It was overwhelming, the sudden sensation of being seen. In some recess of Beatrice’s mind, she knew that her attire wasn’t really that remarkable, that to some degree she was imagining the stares and snickers around her. Yet they still seemed to slither in from all sides, snaking across her bouncing chest and wrapping between her trembling thighs. Her surroundings became a blur, her senses sinking into every shift of fabric against her soft, sensitive skin. When Levi offered his arm, she clung to it without thinking, desperate for any anchor, any stability in the tempest of exhilaration and shame. Her crest thrummed as she pressed against him, coaxing her into surrendering all pretense of pride, to allow his unwavering presence to be her rock, her direction, her savior from the carnal abyss that threatened her.

For a moment, a strange, dreamy peace settled over her.

Then a familiar pair of faces appeared in the crowd. And Beatrice’s world shattered with a bolt of pure terror.

She wasn’t sure who saw whom first. But it didn’t matter now. Suzi and Theresa were already waving her over, their eyes gleaming with sadistic curiosity as they beckoned Levi and Beatrice across the food court. And as Master and servant exchanged a tense glance, realizing they had no choice but to wade towards the fanged grins of her friends, Beatrice knew without a doubt:

Her erotic dream was about to become a nightmare.