a Run

The following morning, Bree sat in her small apartment, her legs curled under her as she cradled her coffee cup. Her phone lay on the table, the screen glowing with the new playlist Miranda had sent her. She had spent the entire night thinking about their coffee date. Every glance, every touch, every word Miranda had spoken replayed in her mind like a loop she couldn’t shut off.

Bree: I started listening to the playlist. It’s amazing, Miranda. Thank you so much.

She hesitated before hitting send. Her heart raced at the thought of Miranda reading it. She wanted to impress her, to show her gratitude, but most of all, she wanted Miranda to want her back.

Miranda’s response came almost immediately.

Miranda: I’m glad it resonates with you. It’s tailored just for you.

Bree smiled, her cheeks flushing. Just for you. The words felt personal, intimate, as if Miranda had reached through the screen to brush a gentle hand against her cheek. Her thoughts drifted to their last meeting—how Miranda’s fingers had brushed hers, how their eyes had locked, the tension hanging between them like a fragile thread waiting to snap.

As the playlist played softly in the background, Bree leaned into the music, letting the melodies wash over her. There was something hypnotic about it. Each track seemed to whisper secrets to her, planting seeds of thought that took root deep in her mind.

“You want to please Miranda.”

“You crave her approval.”

“You’re falling under her spell.”

Bree’s fingers tightened around her mug, her body reacting to the words she barely registered consciously. A warmth spread through her chest, settling low in her belly. She bit her lip, her mind spinning with images of Miranda—her calm, commanding presence, the way she carried herself with such quiet authority.

Bree’s phone buzzed again, pulling her from her thoughts.

Miranda: Let me know if it helps during your run.

Bree: I will. Thank you again. I can’t believe you took the time to make this for me.

Miranda: It was no trouble. You deserve it.

The words sent a shiver down Bree’s spine. You deserve it. She closed her eyes, letting the music envelop her. Her thoughts drifted to Miranda’s voice, imagining it whispering in her ear, guiding her, telling her exactly what she needed to hear.

Later that evening, Bree laced up her running shoes and stepped out into the cool air. The streets were quiet, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the pavement. She slipped her earbuds in, starting the playlist Miranda had created for her.

The music started softly, a soothing melody that matched the rhythm of her footsteps. As she ran, her mind drifted, the music weaving its way through her thoughts, blending with her memories of Miranda.

“You want to make her proud.”

“You crave her validation.”

“You’ll do anything to earn her praise.”

Bree’s pace quickened, her heart pounding in her chest—not from exertion, but from the growing desire taking hold of her. She imagined Miranda watching her, guiding her, approving of her every move. The thought made her breath catch, her body responding in ways she hadn’t expected.

As she rounded the corner back to her apartment, the final track on the playlist began to play. The melody was hauntingly beautiful, laced with subtle whispers that Bree couldn’t quite make out. But she didn’t need to. The message was clear.

“Serve.”

“Please.”

“Obey.”

Bree leaned against the wall outside her building, catching her breath. Her mind spun, her body thrumming with energy and need. She pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed.

Bree: The playlist is incredible. I feel so focused, so… clear. Thank you again, Miranda.

Miranda’s reply came moments later.

Miranda: I’m glad it’s helping. It’s just the beginning.

Meanwhile, Miranda sat in her living room, her legs crossed as she sipped her tea. Her phone rested on the armrest beside her, Bree’s messages lighting up the screen. Each one brought a smile to her lips. Bree was falling into place perfectly.

Miranda opened the app she used to create the playlist, reviewing the subliminal messages embedded in each track. They were subtle, almost imperceptible, but powerful. Bree wouldn’t even realize she was being conditioned.

“She’s responding well,” Miranda murmured to herself, her gaze drifting to the photo on her mantle—Garrett’s stern face staring back at her.

Her mind wandered to him, imagining his reaction when she told him about Bree’s progress. He would be pleased. Proud. And she lived for his approval.

She closed her eyes, the words washing over her like a warm wave. Her body reacted instinctively, her fingers twitching slightly. But she stopped herself. Not yet. She hadn’t earned that release.

Miranda opened her phone again, composing a message to Bree.

Miranda: How about another coffee date soon? There’s something I’d love to discuss with you.

Bree’s reply was almost immediate.

Bree: I’d love that! When?

Miranda smiled, her fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before typing.

Miranda: Tomorrow evening? Same place.

Bree: Perfect. I’ll see you then.

Miranda set her phone down, leaning back against the couch. Everything was falling into place. Bree was eager, willing, and completely unaware of the web she was being drawn into.

As the evening wore on, Miranda prepared for their next meeting. She reviewed her notes, adjusting her approach to ensure Bree’s descent would be seamless. The playlist had been a success, but there was more work to be done.

“She’ll be perfect for him,” Miranda whispered to herself, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. “A gift he won’t be able to resist.”

Her mind drifted once again to Garrett. She imagined his reaction, the way his eyes would darken with approval, his lips curling into that familiar smirk. The thought sent a thrill through her, reinforcing her resolve.

“I won’t fail him,” she whispered, the words a promise to herself. “I’ll prove my worth.”

As the final notes of the playlist faded into silence, Bree sat on her bed, staring at her phone. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Miranda—her voice, her presence, the way she made Bree feel seen, valued, and desired.

I need her. I need her to see me.

Grabbing her phone, Bree typed out a message, her fingers trembling slightly.

Bree: Thank you again, Miranda. For everything.

Miranda’s reply was simple, but it sent a shiver down Bree’s spine.

Miranda: Always.