Family Service

The scent of roasted garlic and fresh rosemary drifted through the kitchen, punctuated by the steady, rhythmic chop of my knife against the wooden board. The cutting board sat at a meticulous right angle to the kitchen island's edge, positioned just as Loona wanted it.

"Thinner, John. The zucchini needs to be paper-thin, or it cooks unevenly," her voice called from behind me.

I sensed her approach before she even set a hand on my hip. Loona was dressed in comfortable leggings and an oversized knit sweater, her hair held up loosely with a claw clip. After yesterday's high-wire act with Nadja, she seemed entirely at ease, almost domestic. Yet when her fingers slid lightly over the waistband of my sweatpants and brushed against the rigid ring of the resin cage, my stomach seized instantly.

"So, how does it feel today?" she asked softly, that warm, lightly mocking cadence in her voice that had become more familiar to me than any parental lecture. "Yesterday was pretty thrilling for you, wasn't it? Handled it like a champ, though. Kept so well-behaved, even with Nadja sitting right next door."

"It… it was intense," I managed, keeping my eyes fixed hard on the vegetables.

Loona giggled under her breath, reached for my left wrist, and tilted it toward herself to wake the display on my Apple Watch. With a practiced swipe of her thumb, she checked the rings.

"Eight-point-two kilometers this morning. Five-thirty pace. Heart rate steady in the aerobic zone." She gave an approving nod and playfully tapped the tip of my nose. "Very disciplined, sweetheart. Calorie burn lines up with the schedule."

Letting go of my wrist, she pulled open the fridge and set out a pre-portioned bowl of quinoa and lean chicken breast for me, pouring herself a glass of white wine while giving the pan of prawns a light toss.

"You don't eat until the table is set. Polish the glasses—not a single water spot, understood?"

"Yes, Loona."

I nodded mechanically, took the linen cloth, and began inspecting the wine glasses against the ceiling light. It was unsettling how quickly this total surrender of control had turned into second nature. A few weeks ago, I would have pushed back against every single command. Now, her casual praise sparked a pathetic, warm flutter of relief. She controlled my sleep, my meals, my paces—and through that unyielding shell locked between my legs, every single stray impulse.

Once everything was ready, I brought over her plate. Loona sat down at the dining table, crossed one leg over the other, and pointed her fork toward the stool across from her.

"Sit, John. Enjoy your meal."

Taking my seat, I picked up my fork and ate in silence. It was a deceptive calm, an almost placid domestic picture between siblings. But the illusion held only until Loona set her glass down, leaned back, and pinned me with those sharp, gleaming eyes.

"Oh, by the way," she remarked idly, twirling the stem of her glass. "I was texting with Emma earlier. She’s dropping by tomorrow afternoon."

The bite caught in my throat. Swallowing with effort, I looked up. "Emma? Why?"

Loona’s lips curved into an amused, knowing smile. "She’s bringing over the study summaries for your biology class. And… she really wanted to apologize for the other day. She sounded surprisingly timid on the phone, almost desperate to stay on my good side."

Leaning forward slightly, she rested her chin on her palm and offered a faint wink. "I told her she was more than welcome. The two of us should show her tomorrow exactly how things run around here now, don't you think?"

A cold shiver traced down my spine, while beneath the table, the chastity cage pressed a sharp warning against my flesh at the mere sound of Emma’s name.

The front door banged shut with a loud clatter. A moment later, quick, springy footsteps echoed across the hardwood hallway, followed by the soft slap of shoes kicked hurriedly to the floor by the entryway.

"Hello, you two! Smells heavenly in here!" a bright, melodic voice called out.

Vanessa stepped around the corner of the open kitchen. She had come straight from her yoga studio, where she taught several sessions a week. Her dark hair was swept up into a messy bun, damp strands clinging to her temples. She wore a skin-tight, heather-gray performance top and matching high-waisted leggings that traced every line of her athletic build. A faint sheen glistened across her chest, and with every step, she brought that familiar mix of warmth, vanilla deodorant, and post-workout energy into the room.

Physically, she could have passed for Loona’s older sister without question. Every time she walked around the place so casually, my pulse tripped on instinct—a reaction that, in my current state, broke out a cold sweat on my forehead.

"Hey, Mom," Loona greeted with a radiant smile as Vanessa leaned in to plant a kiss on her daughter's cheek.

Then Vanessa’s gaze drifted toward the steaming pans on the island and my half-finished bowl with open appreciation. "God, my stomach is growling. After two classes back-to-back, I didn't have an ounce of energy left to cook. Do you guys have anything to spare?"

"Of course," Loona answered instantly, not missing a beat. She threw me a lightning-fast, amused glance. "John was just finishing up anyway. He keeps such close track of his portions."

Before I could get a syllable out, Loona tapped a manicured fingernail firmly against my forearm. "Up you go, John. Let Mom sit down. And would you mind fetching Vanessa a cold glass of lemon water?"

"I… yeah, of course," I muttered hurriedly.

I stood up immediately, careful to keep my stance neutral so the resin cage stayed hidden beneath the fabric of my gym shorts. The second the seat was clear, Vanessa dropped down with a grateful sigh right where I had been sitting. The leggings pulled tight over her thighs as she picked up the fork and started in on the leftovers.

"Mmm, incredible," she murmured around a mouthful, shutting her eyes in appreciation. "Tastes amazing. If this keeps up, Loona, I might have to borrow your stepbrother. I could use this kind of attentive service down in my wing every day."

Loona caught my eye while my unsteady fingers filled the glass at the sink. Her lips carried that insufferably smug, superior smirk that sent blood roaring in my ears.

"Believe me, Mom," Loona purred in a honey-sweet, completely innocent tone, raising her wine glass in a toast. "John just needs a firm hand and clear directions. Keeps him running like clockwork."

I set the cold glass beside Vanessa, who smoothed a warm palm over the back of my hand. "Thank you, sweetie. You're an angel."

The casual brush of her skin, her scent, and the tight athletic wear right in front of me landed like a blow. Beneath my waistband, my body tightened on pure instinct—and immediately collided with the hard walls of the cage in a spike of pain. I clenched my jaw hard to keep my expression flat, while across the table, Loona watched me with glittering eyes, taking a slow, leisurely sip of her wine.