"Dress" by Silk Strings

The subscribers' verdict rang out in the hall like a whiplash: the Silk Rope "Dress" had won. A murmur of lustful approval rippled through the audience. May smiled, satisfied. It was a cruelly perfect choice: aesthetically interesting but intrinsically painful.

"Magnificent choice!" May announced, her voice resonant. "Sofía will join our service wearing the work of art you have chosen. But art must be shared. And the frames you discarded... do not go to waste!"

May swept her gaze across the hall, where Lara, Cloe, and Julia were already trying to maneuver with trays while guests tugged at their trial outfits.

"Magi, help our pearl get dressed quickly. Then, return to your position at the screen. The audience enjoys your silhouette; it is the perfect backdrop for the debutante's suffering."

With her stomach in knots, Magi guided a terror-paralyzed Sofía toward a temporary dressing room behind the screen. There hung the intricate lattice of silk cords.

"Raise your arms," Magi ordered, her voice neutral, as if she were helping her put on a coat.

Sofía obeyed mechanically. Magi began to wrap her. The silk was soft to the touch, but every knot Magi adjusted bit into Sofía’s skin with firm, constricting pressure. The design cinched her torso, obscenely enhancing her breasts and crossing between her legs with a violating intimacy.

"It hurts," Sofía whispered, when a particularly tight knot closed over her rib.

"I know," Magi murmured, unable to look her in the eyes. "Bear it. Take shallow breaths."

When she finished, Sofía was transformed. The white ropes intertwined over her skin, creating a complex pattern that was simultaneously beautiful and deeply humiliating. She looked like a precious, bound package.

Magi, completely naked, obeyed May’s order and returned to the back of the taut cloth. She began to move slowly under the spotlight, her curvilinear silhouette converted once again into a sensual, anonymous shadow for the audience, dancing in the gloom while Sofía was exposed.

May raised her hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you... Sofía!"

The music played again, this time with a more insistent and mocking rhythm. Magi opened the dressing room curtain.

Sofía advanced into the hall. Her steps were short and awkward, limited by the tension of the ropes between her legs. The friction of the silk against her skin was constant ****.

The subscribers' comments multiplied, cruel and lascivious.

"Look how she moves! Like a bound doll!" shouted a man, laughing.

"I want the wine she serves," said a bejeweled woman. "But make her serve it on her knees. To better see the... weave."

Sofía tried to ignore them, focusing on a tray of glasses that Lara, now with her body trapped in the leather harness, handed to her. As she leaned forward, the ropes tensed, digging into her flesh.

The other girls—Lara, Cloe, and Julia—served under a double layer of humiliation, converted into a walking catwalk of May's fantasies. Upon seeing Sofía, a new girl reduced to a bound object, they felt a mixture of pity and a horrible relief that they were not the ones in the center.

Magi, from a corner behind the fabric, watched the hall, her own silhouette a dancing shadow framing the pain. It had been her hand that tied those knots. Hers the responsibility for bringing her there. Every comment she heard directed at Sofía, Lara, Cloe, or Julia burned her as if it were intended for her.

The service had begun. And the spectacle of degradation, with Magi naked in the backdrop, was in full swing.