New position and dress code

Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting the bedroom’s opulence in gold. Magi woke with a start, noticing the bed was empty. The memory of Adrián’s arm around her waist lingered like a ghostly mark on her skin.

Before she could get her bearings, the door opened. He entered, not dressed for the day, but in a dark silk robe that parted with every movement. In his hands was an impeccable breakfast tray.

"Good morning," he said, his morning voice smooth as silk but no less charged with intent. He placed the tray on her lap. "We need to start with energy."

Magi ate under his gaze. Every bite tasted of submission. When she finished, he removed the tray.

"Now, the dress code," he announced, opening a built-in wardrobe. Inside, three outfits hung with precision.

A pearl-grey pantsuit, with a cropped jacket and a sheer chiffon shirt. A black sheath dress, conservative in the front, with the back completely open. A beige pencil skirt and a tweed jacket, beneath which there was only a leather corset.

"Choose," Adrián ordered.

Magi, feeling his gaze, pointed to the grey suit.

"Good choice," he commented. "Now, get dressed."

Magi locked herself in the bathroom. Braless, she put on the trousers, which fit perfectly, and then the chiffon shirt. Looking in the mirror, her breasts were clearly visible through the translucent fabric.

She felt exposed, but maintaining an attitude of "no shame," she walked out.

When she emerged, Adrián, now dressed in an immaculate suit, was waiting for her. His eyes swept over her and stopped at her chest. He frowned slightly.

"It’s too much," he said, with a tone of slight irritation, as if he had spotted an aesthetic error. "Transparency is elegant, but we don't want your breasts to be the only distraction. It ruins the line. Wait."

He left the bedroom for a moment and returned with a small black box with no logos. He opened it. Inside, resting on a bed of silk, lay a nude lace bralette, so fine it looked like it was made of cobwebs.

"Wear this. It’s imperceptible," he said, holding it out.

Magi took it without resistance, with a cold resignation. She understood the game; exposure was a tool, not an end.

"Put it on," he indicated, not looking away.

Magi turned on her heel, turning her back to him. With quick movements, she put on the lace bralette. The fabric was so fine it was like wearing nothing, yet it shaped her silhouette in a subtle and, she admitted grudgingly, elegant way.

Turning back around, Adrián nodded, satisfied.

"That's better. Discreet." His smile was a blade. "Elegance is in the details."

Then, he went to the desk and picked up a thick manila envelope, sealed with black wax.

"Your first task," he said, handing it to her. "Take this to this warehouse. Give it to the man at door 14B. Don't ask questions. Don't speak."

Magi took the envelope. It weighed like a slab.

"Is this a test?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

Adrián’s smile hardened.

"Everything is. Now go." He stepped closer and, with a gesture meant to adjust her jacket, his fingers grazed the bare skin of her waist, just where the cropped jacket failed to cover. "Trust me. As I trust you."

Magi left the penthouse, the envelope pressed tight against the new bralette. She wasn't just carrying a potentially deadly assignment; she was also carrying her owner's mark clung to her body, a silent reminder that even her most basic intimacy had been stripped away. Every step in the grey suit was an echo of her total surrender.