The week felt like a lifetime. Each day was a test of her obedience. Each night was spent waiting for his command. The black toy sat on her nightstand, a constant, silent reminder of his power. She didn't dare touch it. She was a good girl.

On Friday, the text came.

Be ready at eight. Wear the red dress.

The red dress. He had never mentioned a red dress. She went to her closet. Hanging there was a new dress. It was made of a thin, silky material that clung to every curve. It was the color of fresh blood. It was so short it barely covered her ass, and...