Hi everyone. This backstory chapter on Evelyn was a new exercise for me as it is my first POV writing.
I hope you enjoy it, if there's enough success, I'll post part 2 which is the POV from the chapters 6 and 7.
The poll about what to do with Evelyn is still on, so feel free to vote. As of now, it seems like she's going to be a permanent player of Alan's games. You can vote here :
https://www.deviantart.com/lois33310/poll/How-many-times-does-Brian-ring-the-bell-8569648
I am Evelyn, and I don't know how I ended up here.
My mind drifts off, and brings me back to him, to Brian, to the way it all began. I could blame the circumstances, Alan, or even Ashley, but the truth? The truth is that it all goes back to that moment when our paths first crossed, ten years ago.
I had just joined the company, fresh out of a prestigious business school, full of ambition and fragile confidence. Brian was eight years older than me and already a respected pillar of the company. Charismatic, calm, he seemed to carry the world on his shoulders without ever faltering. I still remember our first exchange: his frank smile, his firm handshake. He looked me straight in the eyes, and in that gaze, there was a warmth, an attention, as if, for a moment, nothing else mattered but that encounter.
Brian quickly became my mentor. He taught me everything: how to navigate the company's political maze, how to turn vague ideas into striking strategies. He never spared his advice or encouragement. When he spoke to me, he made me feel brilliant, capable, indispensable. And me? I loved every second spent by his side. Those stolen moments between meetings, those coffees where he talked about his projects, his ambitions, his vision… I drank in his words as if my career, my life, depended on them.
And then, without even realizing it, I fell in love with him.
Not a naive or burning love, but a deep attachment, rooted in admiration and an unspeakable desire. It was in the details: the way his laughter echoed in the hallways, the way he furrowed his brows while reading a report. Every little thing he did fascinated me. I loved Brian. I loved him with a silent, carefully hidden love under the mask of our professional complicity.
He saw nothing. Or if he saw, he pretended not to understand. Brian was married to Ashley at the time, and although he rarely spoke of her, I knew she existed, that she occupied a place he would never let me touch. But that didn't stop me. If I couldn't be his wife, I could at least be his workwife. And this role, I embraced it with unfailing devotion.
We were inseparable at the office. The other colleagues sometimes murmured about us, but it didn't bother me. I loved being seen by his side, having our connection recognized. The long evenings wrapping up projects together, the shared laughter over a drink after an exhausting day… All of this formed a cocoon that I cherished more than anything. By his side, I felt special.
But Ashley was always there, a shadow I couldn't ignore. I barely knew her, but every time her name surfaced in a conversation, a pang of bitterness pierced me. She was his refuge, his home, what I would never be. Sometimes, I envied her. Other times, I despised her. In my mind, she was just an obstacle, an intruder in our bubble.
And then there was that evening, five years ago. A company evening, seemingly ordinary, but it changed everything. Ashley had come, for once, and I had finally been able to observe her up close. I had imagined so many things about her. In my mind, she was a blurry silhouette, a shadow in Brian's life, someone who existed but whose details mattered little. That evening, however, I saw her for what she truly was.
Ashley overflowed with raw, vibrant energy. She laughed with a clear laugh that filled the room, naturally drawing gazes. Her long blonde hair cascaded around her radiant face, her green eyes sparkling with almost insolent confidence. She wore a fitted white blouse that highlighted her generous chest and jeans that hugged her full, feminine hips. On her feet, thick boots, a detail that immediately struck me: a functional, simple, almost disdainful choice compared to my polished pumps that squeezed me slightly but that I wore like armor.
She was everything I wasn't. Spontaneous, warm, uninhibited. While I mastered every detail, every movement, every word to project a perfect image, Ashley seemed to float in carefree nonchalance. People gravitated around her without her having to make the slightest effort, as if her mere presence was enough to light up the room. But that wasn't what struck me the most. No, it was the way Brian looked at her.
He looked at her with infinite tenderness, a mix of admiration and raw love that was like a slap in the face. It was there, before my eyes, the proof that no matter what I did, I could never rival her. She didn't need to be perfect. She was simply Ashley, and that was enough.
This revelation, though painful, did not break me. On the contrary, it galvanized me. I decided, that evening, to become everything Ashley wasn't. If she was spontaneous, I would be calculating. If she embodied warmth, I would be mystery. If she was rooted in simplicity, I would drape myself in icy sophistication. I decided that if I couldn't be like her, then I would be her absolute antithesis, her opposite. And perhaps, in this opposition, I could find a way to impose myself in Brian's life.
The following months, I transformed. I adopted that impeccable black bob, a cut that framed my face like a mask and accentuated my angular features. My wardrobe became an arsenal of satin dresses and fitted outfits, each carefully chosen to project an aura of elegance and seduction. Where Ashley wore boots, I wore pumps.
With each step, each controlled smile, I felt a growing tension. Because, despite all my efforts, Brian remained obstinately blind. He still saw me as his colleague, his confidante, perhaps even his friend. But nothing more. Worse still, Ashley, she saw everything.
I knew it from the day our gazes crossed during a meeting where she was exceptionally present. She observed me, her green eyes piercing me with disconcerting acuity. She knew. She knew what I was doing, what I wanted, what I felt for her husband. And for the first time, I saw a shadow of doubt cross her perfect face. It was a fleeting victory, but enough to fuel my determination.
Ashley began to appear more often at the office, to insinuate herself into our space. She made sure Brian didn't work too late, that he came home in time for dinner. She became a constant presence, a silent reminder of her place in his life. But that didn't stop me. I got even closer to Brian, playing my role with renewed intensity. I offered him what Ashley couldn't: an intellectual partner, an accomplice in his professional ambitions, someone who understood his frustrations and dreams.
And yet, Ashley had an advantage I couldn't contest. She knew Brian in a way I couldn't equal. She understood him not only as a professional but as a man, with his strengths and weaknesses. No matter how hard I tried to fill that gap, I knew it still existed, like an invisible line I couldn't cross.
Despite that, I couldn't stop. Every look he gave me, every shared laugh, every stolen moment in the office hallways pushed me further. I knew I was playing a dangerous game, that every step I took towards Brian distanced me a little more from the woman I once was. But at that point, it no longer mattered. I didn't want to go back. Not as long as there was a chance, however slim, of making him waver.
Ashley managed to distance Brian from me. It was gradual, subtle. She drew him out of my orbit like gently pulling a thread to undo a seam. At each step, I could feel the space between us growing, but I never found the moment or the words to stop it.
One day, he started refusing my invitations for lunches, citing obligations with Ashley. Another time, he declined a project we would normally have piloted together, telling me he wanted to "slow down." What struck me the most was his tone: detached, almost mechanical, as if he were following a resolution he hadn't entirely chosen but respected nonetheless. It wasn't Brian. It was Ashley.
The last time we shared a sincere moment was during a late evening at the office. Everyone had left except us. We talked, laughed, and for a second, everything seemed to return to what it was before. But that illusion shattered when he mentioned that Ashley was waiting for him at home. The guilt in his voice was clear proof: he felt guilty about me, about what we had, or what it might seem to be. It broke me more than I want to admit.
And then, he left the company.
It should have been a shock, but it was predictable. The tension Ashley had built, combined with my efforts to cling to him, had become unbearable. When I learned of his departure, I understood that I had lost him. Not just as a colleague, but as a friend, as a pillar. He had evaporated from my life, and with him, the last anchor that kept me standing.
It was during this period that my father's health began to decline. He was all I had left. My mother had left long ago, too soon, leaving me alone with him. He had given everything to raise me, to offer me a chance to succeed. And now, it was my turn to take care of him. But the treatment cost a fortune. Each visit to the hospital, each medication, each consultation… it all added up to a mountain of debt I could no longer ignore.
I worked harder than ever, taking on extra hours, accepting impossible missions. But nothing was enough. The bills kept coming, relentless, indifferent to my efforts. I started borrowing money. First from the bank, then from less scrupulous lenders. Each time I signed a new loan, I told myself it would be the last. But it was a lie. Each penny I earned went straight to that downward spiral.
I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. My father saw nothing. I did my best to keep smiling in front of him, to hide the dark circles under my eyes, to pretend everything was fine. But inside, I was crumbling.
And throughout all this, Brian's absence was cruelly felt. I needed him. Not as a mentor, not as an illusion of lost romance, but as someone who understood me. But he was no longer there. I knew he was with Ashley, that she had brought him back into their cocoon, that she was making sure he didn't stray again. Maybe he didn't even think about me anymore.
The days passed, and I continued to fight, alone. But each battle left me a little more marked, a little more empty.
The debt had become a constant shadow in my life. Each morning, I woke up with a knot in my stomach, each call was a veiled threat, each letter a blade driven deeper. I had passed the point where hope could still soothe me. My father needed me, and all I could offer was a growing void.
It was at this moment that Alan appeared. He was nothing like a savior, and yet, from the first glance, he seemed to carry the solution to all my problems. He was impeccably dressed, his appearance almost too perfect to be real. His eyes, a metallic gray, seemed to see beyond my facade. He knew. He knew everything.
He approached me one evening as I left the hospital, a pile of bills clutched to my chest. His smile was calm, almost reassuring. He didn't waste time asking me questions or letting me speak. He already knew my answers.
— Evelyn, he began, his voice soft but firm. I know what you're going through. And I can help you.
I wanted to refuse, to tell him I didn't need his help, that I could manage alone. But the words stuck in my throat. There was something in his voice, an invisible authority that prevented me from looking away.
— I will take care of all the expenses, he continued. The treatments, the debts, everything that weighs on you. You won't have to worry anymore. Never again.
It was a promise too good to be true. Part of me knew it had to be illegal, that nothing was free, especially not on such a scale. And yet, I found myself listening to him, letting him place a contract in front of me. The terms were clear: he would take care of everything in exchange for my obedience "within reasonable limits." If I broke the contract, the consequences would be disastrous. Not only would I lose everything, but I would be ruined, plunged into even deeper misery.
I wanted to protest, to ask for explanations. But Alan took out a small golden bell from his pocket. It hung from a fine chain, simple but captivating. He shook it gently, and the sound it produced swept away all my doubts.
A clear, crystalline sound that seemed to resonate directly in my mind. The world around me faded, reduced to that pure, hypnotic sound. My thoughts blurred, and a strange warmth spread through me.
— This is nothing complicated, Evelyn, he murmured. This contract is just… a formality. You know it's the right thing to do. For you. For your father.
He was right. Why had I hesitated? It was obvious. It was normal, after all. I had to sign. For my father. For our future. My hands, trembling moments before, calmed down. I took the pen and signed my name at the bottom of the contract. Once done, a wave of relief washed over me, as if the weight of the debt had already disappeared.
Alan took back the bell and slipped it into his pocket, his smile widening.
— Welcome to a new life, Evelyn, he said simply before walking away.
It was only after his departure that I felt a shiver run through me. A small voice deep within tried to protest, to understand what had just happened. But each time I tried to focus on that feeling, an echo of the ringing returned to my mind, muffling my thoughts. All of this seemed so… normal, after all.
Alan had established a precise ritual: once a month, always at the same time, I found myself facing him. We would sit in a softly lit room, a place that breathed luxury without ever being ostentatious. A dim light bathed the place, creating an atmosphere conducive to confession. A low table separated our armchairs, and on that table, as always, stood a silver bell.
I never really knew why I went there. Yet, as soon as I received his call or his laconic message—"I'm waiting for you"—I didn't hesitate for a second. It had become a habit, an unspoken obligation that I no longer questioned.
Alan didn't intimidate me, not really. His soft but authoritative voice, his measured gestures, everything about him seemed designed to make you feel at ease and under control at the same time. And then there was that bell. At each meeting, he would ring it in the first few minutes, a crystalline sound that resonated in the air like a suspended note.
I didn't understand why, but that ringing had a strange effect on me. It soothed my doubts, loosened my tongue. What should have been a simple update on my obligations became a confession, an intimate exchange. I told him everything. About my father, my doubts, my memories. About Brian.
I didn't want to, at first. It was a shameful secret, this lingering bond with a man who had ignored me. Yet, each time the sound of that bell resonated, my words seemed to pour out on their own.
— Alan, I think about it constantly, I would say, my voice barely more than a whisper. Why? Why can't I forget him?
Alan would simply smile, as if he knew something I didn't. He never insisted, never asked unnecessary questions. But he listened, and with each ring of the bell, I opened up a little more.
One day, after I had spoken to him at length about Brian and Ashley, he dropped the information as if it were an unimportant detail.
— You know, Evelyn, their little business is not doing well. In fact, it's in great difficulty. Brian and Ashley are not far from ruin.
I froze. This image I had built of them, this perfect couple, this dazzling success… It all seemed to crumble in an instant. I didn't know what to feel. Satisfaction? Pity? An uncomfortable mix of emotions that I couldn't sort out rose in my chest.
— Ruined, I murmured, almost to myself.
Alan nodded with that enigmatic smile before ringing the bell again. The sound, light and familiar, swept away my thoughts like a breeze on a flickering flame. My emotions, as complex as they were, vanished in a hazy blur. It was normal that I felt this way, wasn't it? Alan was right to tell me. He was always right.
But after each meeting, when I returned home, I felt a weight that wouldn't leave me. Brian haunted my nights. I dreamed of him, of his smile, of that complicity we once had. Sometimes, I would see Ashley by his side again, an insurmountable obstacle, a cruel reminder of what I could never have. Other times, he was alone, and I would wake up with that empty feeling, that painful longing.
I didn't understand. Why now? Why him? Alan only reinforced this turmoil, with his subtle remarks, his eloquent silences. And always, that bell. That sound.
That day, Alan was different. Usually, he had that impassive look, his enigmatic smile that never revealed anything. But this time, something shone in his eyes: a brighter, almost dangerous gleam. I felt it as soon as I entered the room. He was sitting, legs crossed, and the bell was not waiting on the table as usual. It hung between his fingers, swaying gently with his movements.
— Evelyn, he began, his voice deeper than usual. We have shared many things, you and I. Secrets, fears… But it is time to lay down some cards.
I remained silent, my heart pounding. He placed the bell on the table with a clear ring, which resonated in my ears like an insidious caress.
— You know already that I am not an ordinary businessman, don't you? he said, tilting his head slightly. What I do goes far beyond finance. You must have felt it, over our meetings.
I swallowed, my hands damp on my knees. He was right, of course. There had always been something… different about him. But I had never imagined what he was about to reveal.
— Evelyn, I am a hypnotist, he declared calmly. And long before our first meeting, I had already started working with you.
My breath caught. A hypnotist? That explained so much. My words escaping uncontrollably, my decisions made without really understanding them, this inexplicable dependence on his meetings… I stared at him, incredulous, but unable to reply.
He continued, his tone almost benevolent again:
— You see, Evelyn, you are a fascinating woman. Strong, beautiful, intelligent… But like everyone, you have flaws. And it is in these flaws that I found my place.
I straightened slightly, a gleam of defiance in my eyes.
— Why? Why me? I asked, my voice trembling.
He smiled, as if my question amused him.
— Because you are perfect for what I have in mind. You see, Evelyn, Brian and Ashley are at a critical turning point in their lives. Their business is ruined, their debts are insurmountable… just like yours once were. And I have bought all of that. I hold their destinies in my hands, just as I hold yours.
He paused, letting me digest his words. I felt my throat tighten.
— Brian, he resumed, is a… complex man. You know that better than anyone, don't you? You were his confidante. And yet, he never saw you as you wanted. He escaped you, Evelyn.
He leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret.
— But did you know he has particular tastes? Fetishes? Desires buried deep that he hides carefully, even from his dear Ashley? A fascination for feet, for tickling… and perhaps more. Desires I have come to know.
My cheeks flushed. Brian? Fetishes? The idea troubled me more than I wanted to admit. I lowered my eyes, unable to meet Alan's piercing gaze.
— I see that interests you, he murmured with a satisfied smile. So listen carefully, Evelyn. I am going to make you an offer.
My heart raced.
— An offer? I repeated, uncertain.
— Yes, he said, leaning back in his armchair. I can free you. From everything. Your debt, your obligations to me… All of that will disappear. You can take back your life, without me asking anything more of you. And… if you play your cards right, Evelyn, Brian could even be yours. For good.
My eyes widened. The promise was irresistible, almost too good to be true. But Alan was not a generous man without reason.
— What is the price? I asked, wary.
He laughed softly, a warm but malicious laugh.
— An audition, Evelyn. A simple audition. Nothing terrible, I assure you, Alan murmured, his tone soft, almost soothing, contrasting with the weight of his words. His fingers absently caressed the bell on the table, as if conferring a power it did not deserve.
I looked at him, my eyebrows slightly furrowed. He was always like that: vague, elusive. An audition? There was no doubt there was a catch. But at the same time, I knew I had no other choice. The void of debt, the weight of a broken life, all of that prevented me from turning away from what he was offering me.
— And if I succeed? I asked, trying to maintain my composure.
Alan smiled, that insufferably calm and triumphant smile that always made me want to scream.
— Then, Evelyn, you will have your chance. Your freedom. Brian, perhaps. But that, of course, depends entirely on you. I am offering you an opportunity. It is up to you to seize it.
The words floated in the air, weaving a web around me. I clenched my fists on my knees, swallowed with difficulty, then nodded.
— Alright, I murmured. I will take your audition.
He nodded slightly, satisfied, and rang the bell between his fingers. The crystalline sound immediately invaded my senses, like an invisible thread that gently tightened around my mind. I shivered, unable to look away.
— Perfect, he concluded. We will begin tomorrow.
The next day, I was awakened by a phone call. A female voice, polite but detached, informed me that a driver was waiting for me downstairs to take me to a luxury spa. I was still trying to understand what was happening when I was delivered a perfectly fitted set of clothes: a flowing black dress and matching stilettos.
When I went downstairs, the driver greeted me without a word and opened the door of an impeccable sedan for me. The day was about to begin, and everything about this setup was both tempting and frightening.
The spa was beyond anything I could have imagined. A team took care of me with an attention and precision that was almost unreal. I was guided through a series of indulgent treatments, each more luxurious than the last. A long massage released tensions I didn't even know existed, and I began to feel almost relaxed… almost.
Everything changed when I was led into a room dedicated to manicures and pedicures.
An experienced aesthetician began with my hands. She meticulously filed, polished, and then applied a glossy black polish to my nails. The result was impeccable, and I couldn't help but wonder if Alan had orchestrated everything down to the smallest detail.
Then it was my feet's turn.
As soon as her fingers brushed my skin, I felt a slight jolt run through me. I tried to hide my reaction, but she smiled.
— A bit sensitive, I see, she said in a soft voice, as if it were an ordinary observation.
She continued her work with precise meticulousness, cleaning each nail, massaging my arches with warm oil. It was pleasant, almost too much so. Then she began to work on my toes.
The sensation was both unbearable and strangely captivating. The precise movements of her fingers, the light but persistent contact of her tools… But when her fingers slid slightly between my toes to clean and apply the oil, I let out a small uncontrolled laugh.
— Sorry, I murmured, embarrassed. It's… very sensitive.
She smiled but did not slow down. Her movements were methodical, almost mechanical, but each touch seemed to awaken every nerve, every bit of my skin.
When she applied the glossy black polish to my toenails, I was almost relieved. But that feeling of vulnerability persisted. The treatment finished, I stood up on slightly trembling legs, my feet slipping into the pumps provided for me. They fit perfectly, but I couldn't ignore the increased sensitivity of my feet, each step reawakening a shiver that I tried to hide.
When I left the spa, I knew it wasn't just a simple gift. Alan had wanted this. It was a preparation, a prelude to something much bigger. I didn't know what awaited me at this audition, but one thing was certain: I could no longer back out.
The limousine stopped smoothly in front of an isolated building, imposing but strangely intimidating. The luxurious interior of the car seemed to hold my breath, each beat of my heart resonating like a drum in my chest. I got out, my black pumps clicking softly on the ground. Alan was waiting for me at the entrance, impeccable as always, with that air of confidence and mystery that seemed to hide countless secrets.
— Evelyn, you are ravishing, he declared in a calm tone, his gaze sliding over my elegant dress and my endless legs. Follow me, he added, turning towards the open door.
I followed him, my heartbeat accelerating with each step. The dimly lit corridor inside seemed to amplify the sound of my heels. Alan led me to a large empty room, except for a metallic X-shaped cross in the center: stocks, equipped with wrist and ankle straps. My stomach knotted instantly.
— Here we are, Alan announced, turning to me, his enigmatic smile still in place.
— I… I don't understand, I stammered, feeling a warm discomfort rise to my cheeks.
— Oh, but you do understand, Evelyn, he replied, crossing his arms. You accepted the audition. Consider this an exploration… of your qualities. Brian, you see, has very particular fantasies. And I must ensure that you meet his expectations.
Before I could protest, two masked women entered the room silently. They wore elegant masks that hid their faces, their bodies molded in tight black suits that left no room for imagination. Alan made a gesture with his hand, and one of them approached me while the other stood near the cross.
— Undress her, he ordered, his tone still calm but authoritative.
My protests stuck in my throat as their expert hands began to undo my dress, sliding it off my shoulders. Each movement was methodical, almost ceremonial, until I stood naked before them, trembling, vulnerable. The black pumps remained my only clothing, a detail that seemed amplified by my nudity.
— Perfect, Alan murmured, inviting me to take my place on the cross. Please, get settled.
With hesitation, I let myself be guided. The straps were fastened to my wrists and ankles, leaving me exposed, my arms and legs stretched out in an X. The tension in the air was almost suffocating, and I could feel the weight of the masked women's gazes.
— Let's start gently, Alan said, taking a seat on an armchair nearby. I want to see if Evelyn has the potential to rival Ashley.
At the mention of Ashley, my heart tightened. He knew exactly what to say to destabilize me.
The two women positioned themselves, one to my left, the other to my right. They exchanged a glance, then one began to caress my stomach with her fingertips. The sensation was light, almost imperceptible, but enough to make me shiver. My instinct told me to back away, to protect myself, but the straps holding me in the cross made any movement impossible. A warm diffuse heat rose in my body, mixing tension and anticipation.
The second woman, silent and methodical, took a fine feather that she slid with an exasperating slowness around my navel. The soft, delicate tip seemed to explore every contour, awakening a dull discomfort that made me contract my abdominals despite myself.
— Hm… you are reactive, but not yet at Ashley's level, Alan murmured, his calm and calculated voice resonating in the room. Ashley, she had such sensitivity… Especially here, he continued, pointing to his own chest with a nonchalant gesture.
I furrowed my brows, a wave of anger briefly piercing the confusion of sensations. But before I could reply, the first woman's fingers slid slowly from my stomach to my ribs. Her movements were measured, exploring every space between my ribs with surgical precision.
— Hihihi! Oh… stop… that's nothing, I… hahah! I began to protest, but a laugh escaped my lips. It wasn't unbearable, but enough to make my nerves flare slightly.
The woman with the feather concentrated on my sides, tracing delicate and insidious lines that seemed to run like electric currents under my skin. My hands clenched against my straps, my breath breaking into bursts of involuntary laughter.
— You see, Evelyn, Alan continued with disconcerting nonchalance, sensitivity is not just a matter of nerves. It's a matter of attitude, of openness. Ashley… oh, she was delicious. Her laughs, her reactions… a pure delight. Your reactions, in comparison, remain… modest.
His biting words stung something in me, a mix of defiance and humiliation. Before I could think about it further, the first woman's fingers reached my armpits. The sudden contact triggered a series of more frank laughs.
— Hahaha! No! Not there! Hihihi! I protested, my voice oscillating between laughter and frustration.
Her fingers lingered, exploring the hollows of my armpits with evident expertise. The sensation wasn't unbearable, but annoying enough to make me squirm slightly, seeking in vain an escape. The woman with the feather, meanwhile, was tracing her way towards my chest.
Alan rested his chin on his hand with an expression of calculated curiosity.
— Ah, and this beautiful chest, Evelyn. So different from Ashley's, but just as fascinating. You are more… refined, shall we say? But perhaps it lacks something… a certain sparkle?
The feather glided gently over the curve of my breasts, tracing concentric circles around my nipples without ever touching them directly. A tense warmth rose in my chest, mixed with an electric discomfort. I clenched my jaws, trying to contain a trembling breath.
Then, without warning, the feather brushed the tip of my breast, triggering a shiver that ran through my entire body. I gasped, my muscles contracting involuntarily.
— Hnn… no… hihihi! I murmured, my voice almost broken by the mix of laughter and sighs.
The two women then synchronized their gestures: one using her fingers to tease my ribs and armpits, while the other continued to explore my chest with the feather. The movements were methodical, almost mechanical, but they seemed to awaken every nerve, every bit of my skin.
Alan straightened slightly, a satisfied smile on his lips.
— You are receptive, Evelyn, but there is still that pure vulnerability that I saw in Ashley missing. She laughed to tears, begged… but she enjoyed her abandon. You, Evelyn, you are still resisting.
My face burned with shame and anger. The fingers on my armpits intensified, and the feather traced a final tortuous path to my second nipple, triggering another involuntary shiver.
— Hahaha! I… I beg you… stop that! I stammered, out of breath.
Alan tapped his knees, as if satisfied with a completed first act.
— Well, Evelyn. That will do for now. But the real test… begins now.
A silence fell in the room, heavy with promises, while the two women slowly moved away. Alan's gaze lingered on my feet, still locked in my black pumps, and a cruel smile lit up his face.
Alan rose from his seat, his movements elegant and measured, and slowly approached me. His gaze slid over my restrained body, then stopped at my feet, still encased in my black heels. A smile flickered across his lips.
"You know, Evelyn," he began, "Brian has a particular fascination. A fetish, if you prefer. Feet... your feet, to be precise, could be the key to capturing all his attention."
My breath quickened, but I averted my eyes, refusing to show that his words were affecting me. Yet, the name Brian resonated within me like a bell, awakening memories and feelings I could no longer contain.
"What is fascinating," Alan continued, "is that Ashley categorically refuses to let him near hers. Oh, she protects her feet as if her life depended on it. A pity, really. I often wonder if it irritates Brian to live in such frustration."
His words hit me like a slap. Part of me wanted to ignore what he was saying, but another part... another part couldn't help but imagine it. Brian, that captivating gaze I knew so well, fixed with contained obsession on those thick boots Ashley always wore. A dull tension settled within me, a mix of jealousy and desire. But I shouldn't think about him, not now.
Alan snapped his fingers, and the two masked women began to move. They approached my feet, their movements graceful and precise, as if they were dancing. One of them knelt, sliding her hands along my legs to reach my ankles. She gently placed her fingers on the heel of my shoe, slowly pulling until the leather slipped off, revealing my bare foot, freshly manicured, the nails painted a shiny black.
The other woman mimicked her partner's movements, removing the second heel with the same ceremonial slowness. My feet, freed, shivered slightly at the contact with the air. The tension in the room increased, each movement seeming calculated to maximize my anticipation.
"Let's see," Alan murmured, crossing his arms, "if your feet are as promising as I imagine. You are, after all, meticulous, Evelyn. Those perfect nails, that smooth skin... but are they sensitive?"
I clenched my fists, my toes instinctively curling. I had always known that my feet were a weakness. The slightest caress, the smallest pressure, was enough to awaken uncontrollable sensitivity. Yet, the women carefully avoided my toes for the moment, focusing on the rest.
One of them placed her fingers on my heel, gently massaging, as if exploring the texture of my skin. The sensation was pleasant, but a hint of worry rose. This wouldn't last.
The other woman traced circles with the tips of her nails on the arch of my foot, triggering a slight shiver. I bit my lip, refusing to give in so soon. But when they began to work in unison, one using a feather to brush my heels while the other slid her nails over the arch and sides of my feet, the first wave of uncontrolled laughter escaped my lips.
"Hihihi! Oh... no! Not... not there!" I protested, my voice wavering.
"Ah, interesting," Alan murmured, his smile widening. "Your feet are responding well, Evelyn. Brian would be... captivated, I believe. Continue, ladies."
The two women intensified their movements. One focused her attention on my heels, brushing them with feathers while pressing lightly with her fingers, triggering spasms in my legs. The other traced slow, methodical lines on the arches of my feet, alternating between light pressure and insidious caresses.
"Hahaha! Stop... I... hahaha! I can't!" I stammered, my laughter becoming more frantic.
My feet struggled despite myself, my toes wriggling frantically, curling and uncurling as if trying to escape this methodical assault. The women seemed almost fascinated by their expressiveness, exchanging a complicit glance before continuing.
"You see, Evelyn," Alan continued, unfazed. "You are reactive, indeed. But your toes... ah, they are so expressive. Brian would love to see them like this."
I shook my head, my laughter interspersed with gasps. But his words planted a seed in my mind. Brian. His face. His intense gaze. I could almost see him watching this scene, captivated, fascinated... but I didn't want to think about him now. Not here, not in this position of absolute vulnerability.
One of the women took a soft brush and began to use it on the sides of my feet, slowly sliding it down to my heels. The sensation was more intense than I had imagined, an insidious tickle that grew in strength.
"Hihihi! Please! Not that! Haha!" I exclaimed, pulling on my restraints to no avail.
Alan tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with malice.
"Patience, Evelyn. We are saving the best for last. But I must say... your reactions are already promising. Brian wouldn't be able to look away."
I blushed, my laughter redoubling under the assault of the two women. They continued to explore every inch of my feet, but still carefully avoiding my toes. I knew that moment would come. And, somewhere deep within me, part of me dreaded it as much as it anticipated it.
My breath quickened, but I averted my eyes, refusing to show that his words were affecting me. Yet, that name, that damned name, awakened a flood of memories and feelings I could no longer contain. Brian. This image of him, fascinated, observing my feet as Alan described, made a shiver rise in my body, a shiver that did not come from the tickling.
But I couldn't dwell on these thoughts. The two masked women had intensified their gestures, one now using a small soft brush, which she slid methodically between my toes, while the other applied firmer movements with her fingers. My whole body was caught in a whirlwind of sensations.
— Hahaha! No, I… hahaha! Not between… hahaha! The toes! I pleaded, please! my voice almost broken by laughter.
My toes twitched frantically, but each spasm seemed only to offer them new opportunities for attack. Alan, standing, crossed his arms and smiled, visibly satisfied.
— Yes, Evelyn, he murmured. I believe you are perfect. Absolutely perfect for what I have in mind.
The tickling finally ceased, leaving me panting, my body still shaking with residual shivers. The two masked women moved away, releasing me from the straps that had held me in an X. My wrists were slightly numb, and my legs trembled beneath me as I stepped down from the strange platform. I couldn't believe it was over. Alan observed me, his smug smile leaving no doubt about his satisfaction.
— Congratulations, Evelyn, he announced in a suave, almost solemn tone. You have brilliantly passed this audition. I had doubts, but you have proven that you are exactly what we need.
I swallowed with difficulty, the beats of my heart still irregular. I didn't dare reply to him, contenting myself with picking up the clothes neatly folded on a chair nearby. Putting on my black dress and readjusting my pumps, I noticed that he was still observing me, his piercing eyes seeming to scrutinize my every thought.
— Get dressed. We have another visit to make, he finally said, turning his gaze away to give me a semblance of discretion.
I hope you enjoy it, if there's enough success, I'll post part 2 which is the POV from the chapters 6 and 7.
The poll about what to do with Evelyn is still on, so feel free to vote. As of now, it seems like she's going to be a permanent player of Alan's games. You can vote here :
https://www.deviantart.com/lois33310/poll/How-many-times-does-Brian-ring-the-bell-8569648
My name is Evelyn, and I don't know how life placed me in these stocks facing Brian. Everything seemed so simple once, when I played with the limits, sure of my control, sure of my mastery. Now, my feet are immobilized, my toes adorned with these damned bells that jingle with every spasm, every involuntary shiver. I feel his gaze on me, and I know I am lost.
His fingers slide over the arches of my feet, exploring every curve, every corner with cruel precision. An unbearable heat rises within me, mixing humiliation, pleasure, and an uncontrollable laughter that escapes despite myself. My toes contract, relax, and the bells jingle at a rhythm that seems hypnotic, a treacherous carillon that draws me deeper into this madness. I struggle not to give in, not to lose myself, but each caress amplifies this inner struggle, this unbearable need.
— Do you want me to stop? Brian asks, and his voice carries a gleam of malice, a satisfaction that makes me shiver. Listen to yourself, Evelyn. Listen to these bells. You're the one making them jingle.
His voice seeps into me, breaking my defenses. My protests become incoherent pleas, drowned in the laughter he wrings from me. His hands give me no respite, his thumbs slowly sliding along my oiled arches, his fingers exploring the delicate insufferableness of my heels. My toes, already sensitive, are his favorite playground. They twitch, clench, and each contraction triggers a sharper, more insistent jingle.
— Hahaha! Brian, I… oh no… hahaha! It… it's driving me crazy! I plead, my breath breaking under waves of uncontrolled laughter.
I feel my chest heaving in desperate spasms. My hands let go of the edges of the stocks to close on the bench, seeking an anchor, an escape that does not exist. Each jingle of the bells between my toes seems to resonate directly in my nerves, amplifying that dull, burning heat that consumes me.
— You know, Evelyn, he murmurs in a hoarse voice, I think your bells are more than just jewelry. They reveal you… they unveil you.
His voice, his breath near my feet, makes me lose my footing. Tears stream down my cheeks, mixed with laughter I cannot contain. But beneath the panic, I feel something else: a wave rising, uncontrollable, ready to sweep everything away.
Brian then shifts into high gear. I see his hands grab two electric brushes, their vibrations resonating in the air like a challenge. He guides them carefully, one between my big toe and its neighbor, the other exploring the fineness of the skin between my little toes. I scream with laughter, my whole body trembling under this unbearable torture.
— HAHAHA! Brian! NO! Not there… hahaha! Mercy!
My feet try to escape, but the stocks hold them firmly. My toes bend, spread, and each movement amplifies that infernal jingling. The bells, those damned bells, resonate with an intensity that makes me lose all sense of reality. They have become my prison and my key, their carillon triggering a cascade of sensations I can no longer deny.
His movements intensify, his fingers guiding the brushes with diabolical precision. I feel the vibrations penetrate deeply between my toes, where the skin is finest, most vulnerable. My laughter becomes hysterical, my screams breaking into gasps. The heat within me reaches its peak, each jingle of the bells sending a wave of raw pleasure through my body.
— Brian! I'm going to… I'm going to… oh my god! No… hahaha! I can't!
And then, I give in. My body stiffens, my toes spread in a perfect fan, frozen under the intensity of what I feel. A devastating wave seizes me, overwhelms me entirely. My laughter turns into high-pitched moans, my back arches, and an overwhelming orgasm sweeps through me, shaking every fiber of my being.
His fingers slide over the arches of my feet, exploring every curve, every corner with cruel precision. An unbearable heat rises within me, mixing humiliation, pleasure, and an uncontrollable laughter that escapes despite myself. My toes contract, relax, and the bells jingle at a rhythm that seems hypnotic, a treacherous carillon that draws me deeper into this madness. I struggle not to give in, not to lose myself, but each caress amplifies this inner struggle, this unbearable need.
— Do you want me to stop? Brian asks, and his voice carries a gleam of malice, a satisfaction that makes me shiver. Listen to yourself, Evelyn. Listen to these bells. You're the one making them jingle.
His voice seeps into me, breaking my defenses. My protests become incoherent pleas, drowned in the laughter he wrings from me. His hands give me no respite, his thumbs slowly sliding along my oiled arches, his fingers exploring the delicate insufferableness of my heels. My toes, already sensitive, are his favorite playground. They twitch, clench, and each contraction triggers a sharper, more insistent jingle.
— Hahaha! Brian, I… oh no… hahaha! It… it's driving me crazy! I plead, my breath breaking under waves of uncontrolled laughter.
I feel my chest heaving in desperate spasms. My hands let go of the edges of the stocks to close on the bench, seeking an anchor, an escape that does not exist. Each jingle of the bells between my toes seems to resonate directly in my nerves, amplifying that dull, burning heat that consumes me.
— You know, Evelyn, he murmurs in a hoarse voice, I think your bells are more than just jewelry. They reveal you… they unveil you.
His voice, his breath near my feet, makes me lose my footing. Tears stream down my cheeks, mixed with laughter I cannot contain. But beneath the panic, I feel something else: a wave rising, uncontrollable, ready to sweep everything away.
Brian then shifts into high gear. I see his hands grab two electric brushes, their vibrations resonating in the air like a challenge. He guides them carefully, one between my big toe and its neighbor, the other exploring the fineness of the skin between my little toes. I scream with laughter, my whole body trembling under this unbearable torture.
— HAHAHA! Brian! NO! Not there… hahaha! Mercy!
My feet try to escape, but the stocks hold them firmly. My toes bend, spread, and each movement amplifies that infernal jingling. The bells, those damned bells, resonate with an intensity that makes me lose all sense of reality. They have become my prison and my key, their carillon triggering a cascade of sensations I can no longer deny.
His movements intensify, his fingers guiding the brushes with diabolical precision. I feel the vibrations penetrate deeply between my toes, where the skin is finest, most vulnerable. My laughter becomes hysterical, my screams breaking into gasps. The heat within me reaches its peak, each jingle of the bells sending a wave of raw pleasure through my body.
— Brian! I'm going to… I'm going to… oh my god! No… hahaha! I can't!
And then, I give in. My body stiffens, my toes spread in a perfect fan, frozen under the intensity of what I feel. A devastating wave seizes me, overwhelms me entirely. My laughter turns into high-pitched moans, my back arches, and an overwhelming orgasm sweeps through me, shaking every fiber of my being.
I am Evelyn, and I don't know how I ended up here.
My mind drifts off, and brings me back to him, to Brian, to the way it all began. I could blame the circumstances, Alan, or even Ashley, but the truth? The truth is that it all goes back to that moment when our paths first crossed, ten years ago.
I had just joined the company, fresh out of a prestigious business school, full of ambition and fragile confidence. Brian was eight years older than me and already a respected pillar of the company. Charismatic, calm, he seemed to carry the world on his shoulders without ever faltering. I still remember our first exchange: his frank smile, his firm handshake. He looked me straight in the eyes, and in that gaze, there was a warmth, an attention, as if, for a moment, nothing else mattered but that encounter.
Brian quickly became my mentor. He taught me everything: how to navigate the company's political maze, how to turn vague ideas into striking strategies. He never spared his advice or encouragement. When he spoke to me, he made me feel brilliant, capable, indispensable. And me? I loved every second spent by his side. Those stolen moments between meetings, those coffees where he talked about his projects, his ambitions, his vision… I drank in his words as if my career, my life, depended on them.
And then, without even realizing it, I fell in love with him.
Not a naive or burning love, but a deep attachment, rooted in admiration and an unspeakable desire. It was in the details: the way his laughter echoed in the hallways, the way he furrowed his brows while reading a report. Every little thing he did fascinated me. I loved Brian. I loved him with a silent, carefully hidden love under the mask of our professional complicity.
He saw nothing. Or if he saw, he pretended not to understand. Brian was married to Ashley at the time, and although he rarely spoke of her, I knew she existed, that she occupied a place he would never let me touch. But that didn't stop me. If I couldn't be his wife, I could at least be his workwife. And this role, I embraced it with unfailing devotion.
We were inseparable at the office. The other colleagues sometimes murmured about us, but it didn't bother me. I loved being seen by his side, having our connection recognized. The long evenings wrapping up projects together, the shared laughter over a drink after an exhausting day… All of this formed a cocoon that I cherished more than anything. By his side, I felt special.
But Ashley was always there, a shadow I couldn't ignore. I barely knew her, but every time her name surfaced in a conversation, a pang of bitterness pierced me. She was his refuge, his home, what I would never be. Sometimes, I envied her. Other times, I despised her. In my mind, she was just an obstacle, an intruder in our bubble.
And then there was that evening, five years ago. A company evening, seemingly ordinary, but it changed everything. Ashley had come, for once, and I had finally been able to observe her up close. I had imagined so many things about her. In my mind, she was a blurry silhouette, a shadow in Brian's life, someone who existed but whose details mattered little. That evening, however, I saw her for what she truly was.
Ashley overflowed with raw, vibrant energy. She laughed with a clear laugh that filled the room, naturally drawing gazes. Her long blonde hair cascaded around her radiant face, her green eyes sparkling with almost insolent confidence. She wore a fitted white blouse that highlighted her generous chest and jeans that hugged her full, feminine hips. On her feet, thick boots, a detail that immediately struck me: a functional, simple, almost disdainful choice compared to my polished pumps that squeezed me slightly but that I wore like armor.
She was everything I wasn't. Spontaneous, warm, uninhibited. While I mastered every detail, every movement, every word to project a perfect image, Ashley seemed to float in carefree nonchalance. People gravitated around her without her having to make the slightest effort, as if her mere presence was enough to light up the room. But that wasn't what struck me the most. No, it was the way Brian looked at her.
He looked at her with infinite tenderness, a mix of admiration and raw love that was like a slap in the face. It was there, before my eyes, the proof that no matter what I did, I could never rival her. She didn't need to be perfect. She was simply Ashley, and that was enough.
This revelation, though painful, did not break me. On the contrary, it galvanized me. I decided, that evening, to become everything Ashley wasn't. If she was spontaneous, I would be calculating. If she embodied warmth, I would be mystery. If she was rooted in simplicity, I would drape myself in icy sophistication. I decided that if I couldn't be like her, then I would be her absolute antithesis, her opposite. And perhaps, in this opposition, I could find a way to impose myself in Brian's life.
The following months, I transformed. I adopted that impeccable black bob, a cut that framed my face like a mask and accentuated my angular features. My wardrobe became an arsenal of satin dresses and fitted outfits, each carefully chosen to project an aura of elegance and seduction. Where Ashley wore boots, I wore pumps.
With each step, each controlled smile, I felt a growing tension. Because, despite all my efforts, Brian remained obstinately blind. He still saw me as his colleague, his confidante, perhaps even his friend. But nothing more. Worse still, Ashley, she saw everything.
I knew it from the day our gazes crossed during a meeting where she was exceptionally present. She observed me, her green eyes piercing me with disconcerting acuity. She knew. She knew what I was doing, what I wanted, what I felt for her husband. And for the first time, I saw a shadow of doubt cross her perfect face. It was a fleeting victory, but enough to fuel my determination.
Ashley began to appear more often at the office, to insinuate herself into our space. She made sure Brian didn't work too late, that he came home in time for dinner. She became a constant presence, a silent reminder of her place in his life. But that didn't stop me. I got even closer to Brian, playing my role with renewed intensity. I offered him what Ashley couldn't: an intellectual partner, an accomplice in his professional ambitions, someone who understood his frustrations and dreams.
And yet, Ashley had an advantage I couldn't contest. She knew Brian in a way I couldn't equal. She understood him not only as a professional but as a man, with his strengths and weaknesses. No matter how hard I tried to fill that gap, I knew it still existed, like an invisible line I couldn't cross.
Despite that, I couldn't stop. Every look he gave me, every shared laugh, every stolen moment in the office hallways pushed me further. I knew I was playing a dangerous game, that every step I took towards Brian distanced me a little more from the woman I once was. But at that point, it no longer mattered. I didn't want to go back. Not as long as there was a chance, however slim, of making him waver.
Ashley managed to distance Brian from me. It was gradual, subtle. She drew him out of my orbit like gently pulling a thread to undo a seam. At each step, I could feel the space between us growing, but I never found the moment or the words to stop it.
One day, he started refusing my invitations for lunches, citing obligations with Ashley. Another time, he declined a project we would normally have piloted together, telling me he wanted to "slow down." What struck me the most was his tone: detached, almost mechanical, as if he were following a resolution he hadn't entirely chosen but respected nonetheless. It wasn't Brian. It was Ashley.
The last time we shared a sincere moment was during a late evening at the office. Everyone had left except us. We talked, laughed, and for a second, everything seemed to return to what it was before. But that illusion shattered when he mentioned that Ashley was waiting for him at home. The guilt in his voice was clear proof: he felt guilty about me, about what we had, or what it might seem to be. It broke me more than I want to admit.
And then, he left the company.
It should have been a shock, but it was predictable. The tension Ashley had built, combined with my efforts to cling to him, had become unbearable. When I learned of his departure, I understood that I had lost him. Not just as a colleague, but as a friend, as a pillar. He had evaporated from my life, and with him, the last anchor that kept me standing.
It was during this period that my father's health began to decline. He was all I had left. My mother had left long ago, too soon, leaving me alone with him. He had given everything to raise me, to offer me a chance to succeed. And now, it was my turn to take care of him. But the treatment cost a fortune. Each visit to the hospital, each medication, each consultation… it all added up to a mountain of debt I could no longer ignore.
I worked harder than ever, taking on extra hours, accepting impossible missions. But nothing was enough. The bills kept coming, relentless, indifferent to my efforts. I started borrowing money. First from the bank, then from less scrupulous lenders. Each time I signed a new loan, I told myself it would be the last. But it was a lie. Each penny I earned went straight to that downward spiral.
I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. My father saw nothing. I did my best to keep smiling in front of him, to hide the dark circles under my eyes, to pretend everything was fine. But inside, I was crumbling.
And throughout all this, Brian's absence was cruelly felt. I needed him. Not as a mentor, not as an illusion of lost romance, but as someone who understood me. But he was no longer there. I knew he was with Ashley, that she had brought him back into their cocoon, that she was making sure he didn't stray again. Maybe he didn't even think about me anymore.
The days passed, and I continued to fight, alone. But each battle left me a little more marked, a little more empty.
The debt had become a constant shadow in my life. Each morning, I woke up with a knot in my stomach, each call was a veiled threat, each letter a blade driven deeper. I had passed the point where hope could still soothe me. My father needed me, and all I could offer was a growing void.
It was at this moment that Alan appeared. He was nothing like a savior, and yet, from the first glance, he seemed to carry the solution to all my problems. He was impeccably dressed, his appearance almost too perfect to be real. His eyes, a metallic gray, seemed to see beyond my facade. He knew. He knew everything.
He approached me one evening as I left the hospital, a pile of bills clutched to my chest. His smile was calm, almost reassuring. He didn't waste time asking me questions or letting me speak. He already knew my answers.
— Evelyn, he began, his voice soft but firm. I know what you're going through. And I can help you.
I wanted to refuse, to tell him I didn't need his help, that I could manage alone. But the words stuck in my throat. There was something in his voice, an invisible authority that prevented me from looking away.
— I will take care of all the expenses, he continued. The treatments, the debts, everything that weighs on you. You won't have to worry anymore. Never again.
It was a promise too good to be true. Part of me knew it had to be illegal, that nothing was free, especially not on such a scale. And yet, I found myself listening to him, letting him place a contract in front of me. The terms were clear: he would take care of everything in exchange for my obedience "within reasonable limits." If I broke the contract, the consequences would be disastrous. Not only would I lose everything, but I would be ruined, plunged into even deeper misery.
I wanted to protest, to ask for explanations. But Alan took out a small golden bell from his pocket. It hung from a fine chain, simple but captivating. He shook it gently, and the sound it produced swept away all my doubts.
A clear, crystalline sound that seemed to resonate directly in my mind. The world around me faded, reduced to that pure, hypnotic sound. My thoughts blurred, and a strange warmth spread through me.
— This is nothing complicated, Evelyn, he murmured. This contract is just… a formality. You know it's the right thing to do. For you. For your father.
He was right. Why had I hesitated? It was obvious. It was normal, after all. I had to sign. For my father. For our future. My hands, trembling moments before, calmed down. I took the pen and signed my name at the bottom of the contract. Once done, a wave of relief washed over me, as if the weight of the debt had already disappeared.
Alan took back the bell and slipped it into his pocket, his smile widening.
— Welcome to a new life, Evelyn, he said simply before walking away.
It was only after his departure that I felt a shiver run through me. A small voice deep within tried to protest, to understand what had just happened. But each time I tried to focus on that feeling, an echo of the ringing returned to my mind, muffling my thoughts. All of this seemed so… normal, after all.
Alan had established a precise ritual: once a month, always at the same time, I found myself facing him. We would sit in a softly lit room, a place that breathed luxury without ever being ostentatious. A dim light bathed the place, creating an atmosphere conducive to confession. A low table separated our armchairs, and on that table, as always, stood a silver bell.
I never really knew why I went there. Yet, as soon as I received his call or his laconic message—"I'm waiting for you"—I didn't hesitate for a second. It had become a habit, an unspoken obligation that I no longer questioned.
Alan didn't intimidate me, not really. His soft but authoritative voice, his measured gestures, everything about him seemed designed to make you feel at ease and under control at the same time. And then there was that bell. At each meeting, he would ring it in the first few minutes, a crystalline sound that resonated in the air like a suspended note.
I didn't understand why, but that ringing had a strange effect on me. It soothed my doubts, loosened my tongue. What should have been a simple update on my obligations became a confession, an intimate exchange. I told him everything. About my father, my doubts, my memories. About Brian.
I didn't want to, at first. It was a shameful secret, this lingering bond with a man who had ignored me. Yet, each time the sound of that bell resonated, my words seemed to pour out on their own.
— Alan, I think about it constantly, I would say, my voice barely more than a whisper. Why? Why can't I forget him?
Alan would simply smile, as if he knew something I didn't. He never insisted, never asked unnecessary questions. But he listened, and with each ring of the bell, I opened up a little more.
One day, after I had spoken to him at length about Brian and Ashley, he dropped the information as if it were an unimportant detail.
— You know, Evelyn, their little business is not doing well. In fact, it's in great difficulty. Brian and Ashley are not far from ruin.
I froze. This image I had built of them, this perfect couple, this dazzling success… It all seemed to crumble in an instant. I didn't know what to feel. Satisfaction? Pity? An uncomfortable mix of emotions that I couldn't sort out rose in my chest.
— Ruined, I murmured, almost to myself.
Alan nodded with that enigmatic smile before ringing the bell again. The sound, light and familiar, swept away my thoughts like a breeze on a flickering flame. My emotions, as complex as they were, vanished in a hazy blur. It was normal that I felt this way, wasn't it? Alan was right to tell me. He was always right.
But after each meeting, when I returned home, I felt a weight that wouldn't leave me. Brian haunted my nights. I dreamed of him, of his smile, of that complicity we once had. Sometimes, I would see Ashley by his side again, an insurmountable obstacle, a cruel reminder of what I could never have. Other times, he was alone, and I would wake up with that empty feeling, that painful longing.
I didn't understand. Why now? Why him? Alan only reinforced this turmoil, with his subtle remarks, his eloquent silences. And always, that bell. That sound.
That day, Alan was different. Usually, he had that impassive look, his enigmatic smile that never revealed anything. But this time, something shone in his eyes: a brighter, almost dangerous gleam. I felt it as soon as I entered the room. He was sitting, legs crossed, and the bell was not waiting on the table as usual. It hung between his fingers, swaying gently with his movements.
— Evelyn, he began, his voice deeper than usual. We have shared many things, you and I. Secrets, fears… But it is time to lay down some cards.
I remained silent, my heart pounding. He placed the bell on the table with a clear ring, which resonated in my ears like an insidious caress.
— You know already that I am not an ordinary businessman, don't you? he said, tilting his head slightly. What I do goes far beyond finance. You must have felt it, over our meetings.
I swallowed, my hands damp on my knees. He was right, of course. There had always been something… different about him. But I had never imagined what he was about to reveal.
— Evelyn, I am a hypnotist, he declared calmly. And long before our first meeting, I had already started working with you.
My breath caught. A hypnotist? That explained so much. My words escaping uncontrollably, my decisions made without really understanding them, this inexplicable dependence on his meetings… I stared at him, incredulous, but unable to reply.
He continued, his tone almost benevolent again:
— You see, Evelyn, you are a fascinating woman. Strong, beautiful, intelligent… But like everyone, you have flaws. And it is in these flaws that I found my place.
I straightened slightly, a gleam of defiance in my eyes.
— Why? Why me? I asked, my voice trembling.
He smiled, as if my question amused him.
— Because you are perfect for what I have in mind. You see, Evelyn, Brian and Ashley are at a critical turning point in their lives. Their business is ruined, their debts are insurmountable… just like yours once were. And I have bought all of that. I hold their destinies in my hands, just as I hold yours.
He paused, letting me digest his words. I felt my throat tighten.
— Brian, he resumed, is a… complex man. You know that better than anyone, don't you? You were his confidante. And yet, he never saw you as you wanted. He escaped you, Evelyn.
He leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret.
— But did you know he has particular tastes? Fetishes? Desires buried deep that he hides carefully, even from his dear Ashley? A fascination for feet, for tickling… and perhaps more. Desires I have come to know.
My cheeks flushed. Brian? Fetishes? The idea troubled me more than I wanted to admit. I lowered my eyes, unable to meet Alan's piercing gaze.
— I see that interests you, he murmured with a satisfied smile. So listen carefully, Evelyn. I am going to make you an offer.
My heart raced.
— An offer? I repeated, uncertain.
— Yes, he said, leaning back in his armchair. I can free you. From everything. Your debt, your obligations to me… All of that will disappear. You can take back your life, without me asking anything more of you. And… if you play your cards right, Evelyn, Brian could even be yours. For good.
My eyes widened. The promise was irresistible, almost too good to be true. But Alan was not a generous man without reason.
— What is the price? I asked, wary.
He laughed softly, a warm but malicious laugh.
— An audition, Evelyn. A simple audition. Nothing terrible, I assure you, Alan murmured, his tone soft, almost soothing, contrasting with the weight of his words. His fingers absently caressed the bell on the table, as if conferring a power it did not deserve.
I looked at him, my eyebrows slightly furrowed. He was always like that: vague, elusive. An audition? There was no doubt there was a catch. But at the same time, I knew I had no other choice. The void of debt, the weight of a broken life, all of that prevented me from turning away from what he was offering me.
— And if I succeed? I asked, trying to maintain my composure.
Alan smiled, that insufferably calm and triumphant smile that always made me want to scream.
— Then, Evelyn, you will have your chance. Your freedom. Brian, perhaps. But that, of course, depends entirely on you. I am offering you an opportunity. It is up to you to seize it.
The words floated in the air, weaving a web around me. I clenched my fists on my knees, swallowed with difficulty, then nodded.
— Alright, I murmured. I will take your audition.
He nodded slightly, satisfied, and rang the bell between his fingers. The crystalline sound immediately invaded my senses, like an invisible thread that gently tightened around my mind. I shivered, unable to look away.
— Perfect, he concluded. We will begin tomorrow.
The next day, I was awakened by a phone call. A female voice, polite but detached, informed me that a driver was waiting for me downstairs to take me to a luxury spa. I was still trying to understand what was happening when I was delivered a perfectly fitted set of clothes: a flowing black dress and matching stilettos.
When I went downstairs, the driver greeted me without a word and opened the door of an impeccable sedan for me. The day was about to begin, and everything about this setup was both tempting and frightening.
The spa was beyond anything I could have imagined. A team took care of me with an attention and precision that was almost unreal. I was guided through a series of indulgent treatments, each more luxurious than the last. A long massage released tensions I didn't even know existed, and I began to feel almost relaxed… almost.
Everything changed when I was led into a room dedicated to manicures and pedicures.
An experienced aesthetician began with my hands. She meticulously filed, polished, and then applied a glossy black polish to my nails. The result was impeccable, and I couldn't help but wonder if Alan had orchestrated everything down to the smallest detail.
Then it was my feet's turn.
As soon as her fingers brushed my skin, I felt a slight jolt run through me. I tried to hide my reaction, but she smiled.
— A bit sensitive, I see, she said in a soft voice, as if it were an ordinary observation.
She continued her work with precise meticulousness, cleaning each nail, massaging my arches with warm oil. It was pleasant, almost too much so. Then she began to work on my toes.
The sensation was both unbearable and strangely captivating. The precise movements of her fingers, the light but persistent contact of her tools… But when her fingers slid slightly between my toes to clean and apply the oil, I let out a small uncontrolled laugh.
— Sorry, I murmured, embarrassed. It's… very sensitive.
She smiled but did not slow down. Her movements were methodical, almost mechanical, but each touch seemed to awaken every nerve, every bit of my skin.
When she applied the glossy black polish to my toenails, I was almost relieved. But that feeling of vulnerability persisted. The treatment finished, I stood up on slightly trembling legs, my feet slipping into the pumps provided for me. They fit perfectly, but I couldn't ignore the increased sensitivity of my feet, each step reawakening a shiver that I tried to hide.
When I left the spa, I knew it wasn't just a simple gift. Alan had wanted this. It was a preparation, a prelude to something much bigger. I didn't know what awaited me at this audition, but one thing was certain: I could no longer back out.
The limousine stopped smoothly in front of an isolated building, imposing but strangely intimidating. The luxurious interior of the car seemed to hold my breath, each beat of my heart resonating like a drum in my chest. I got out, my black pumps clicking softly on the ground. Alan was waiting for me at the entrance, impeccable as always, with that air of confidence and mystery that seemed to hide countless secrets.
— Evelyn, you are ravishing, he declared in a calm tone, his gaze sliding over my elegant dress and my endless legs. Follow me, he added, turning towards the open door.
I followed him, my heartbeat accelerating with each step. The dimly lit corridor inside seemed to amplify the sound of my heels. Alan led me to a large empty room, except for a metallic X-shaped cross in the center: stocks, equipped with wrist and ankle straps. My stomach knotted instantly.
— Here we are, Alan announced, turning to me, his enigmatic smile still in place.
— I… I don't understand, I stammered, feeling a warm discomfort rise to my cheeks.
— Oh, but you do understand, Evelyn, he replied, crossing his arms. You accepted the audition. Consider this an exploration… of your qualities. Brian, you see, has very particular fantasies. And I must ensure that you meet his expectations.
Before I could protest, two masked women entered the room silently. They wore elegant masks that hid their faces, their bodies molded in tight black suits that left no room for imagination. Alan made a gesture with his hand, and one of them approached me while the other stood near the cross.
— Undress her, he ordered, his tone still calm but authoritative.
My protests stuck in my throat as their expert hands began to undo my dress, sliding it off my shoulders. Each movement was methodical, almost ceremonial, until I stood naked before them, trembling, vulnerable. The black pumps remained my only clothing, a detail that seemed amplified by my nudity.
— Perfect, Alan murmured, inviting me to take my place on the cross. Please, get settled.
With hesitation, I let myself be guided. The straps were fastened to my wrists and ankles, leaving me exposed, my arms and legs stretched out in an X. The tension in the air was almost suffocating, and I could feel the weight of the masked women's gazes.
— Let's start gently, Alan said, taking a seat on an armchair nearby. I want to see if Evelyn has the potential to rival Ashley.
At the mention of Ashley, my heart tightened. He knew exactly what to say to destabilize me.
The two women positioned themselves, one to my left, the other to my right. They exchanged a glance, then one began to caress my stomach with her fingertips. The sensation was light, almost imperceptible, but enough to make me shiver. My instinct told me to back away, to protect myself, but the straps holding me in the cross made any movement impossible. A warm diffuse heat rose in my body, mixing tension and anticipation.
The second woman, silent and methodical, took a fine feather that she slid with an exasperating slowness around my navel. The soft, delicate tip seemed to explore every contour, awakening a dull discomfort that made me contract my abdominals despite myself.
— Hm… you are reactive, but not yet at Ashley's level, Alan murmured, his calm and calculated voice resonating in the room. Ashley, she had such sensitivity… Especially here, he continued, pointing to his own chest with a nonchalant gesture.
I furrowed my brows, a wave of anger briefly piercing the confusion of sensations. But before I could reply, the first woman's fingers slid slowly from my stomach to my ribs. Her movements were measured, exploring every space between my ribs with surgical precision.
— Hihihi! Oh… stop… that's nothing, I… hahah! I began to protest, but a laugh escaped my lips. It wasn't unbearable, but enough to make my nerves flare slightly.
The woman with the feather concentrated on my sides, tracing delicate and insidious lines that seemed to run like electric currents under my skin. My hands clenched against my straps, my breath breaking into bursts of involuntary laughter.
— You see, Evelyn, Alan continued with disconcerting nonchalance, sensitivity is not just a matter of nerves. It's a matter of attitude, of openness. Ashley… oh, she was delicious. Her laughs, her reactions… a pure delight. Your reactions, in comparison, remain… modest.
His biting words stung something in me, a mix of defiance and humiliation. Before I could think about it further, the first woman's fingers reached my armpits. The sudden contact triggered a series of more frank laughs.
— Hahaha! No! Not there! Hihihi! I protested, my voice oscillating between laughter and frustration.
Her fingers lingered, exploring the hollows of my armpits with evident expertise. The sensation wasn't unbearable, but annoying enough to make me squirm slightly, seeking in vain an escape. The woman with the feather, meanwhile, was tracing her way towards my chest.
Alan rested his chin on his hand with an expression of calculated curiosity.
— Ah, and this beautiful chest, Evelyn. So different from Ashley's, but just as fascinating. You are more… refined, shall we say? But perhaps it lacks something… a certain sparkle?
The feather glided gently over the curve of my breasts, tracing concentric circles around my nipples without ever touching them directly. A tense warmth rose in my chest, mixed with an electric discomfort. I clenched my jaws, trying to contain a trembling breath.
Then, without warning, the feather brushed the tip of my breast, triggering a shiver that ran through my entire body. I gasped, my muscles contracting involuntarily.
— Hnn… no… hihihi! I murmured, my voice almost broken by the mix of laughter and sighs.
The two women then synchronized their gestures: one using her fingers to tease my ribs and armpits, while the other continued to explore my chest with the feather. The movements were methodical, almost mechanical, but they seemed to awaken every nerve, every bit of my skin.
Alan straightened slightly, a satisfied smile on his lips.
— You are receptive, Evelyn, but there is still that pure vulnerability that I saw in Ashley missing. She laughed to tears, begged… but she enjoyed her abandon. You, Evelyn, you are still resisting.
My face burned with shame and anger. The fingers on my armpits intensified, and the feather traced a final tortuous path to my second nipple, triggering another involuntary shiver.
— Hahaha! I… I beg you… stop that! I stammered, out of breath.
Alan tapped his knees, as if satisfied with a completed first act.
— Well, Evelyn. That will do for now. But the real test… begins now.
A silence fell in the room, heavy with promises, while the two women slowly moved away. Alan's gaze lingered on my feet, still locked in my black pumps, and a cruel smile lit up his face.
Alan rose from his seat, his movements elegant and measured, and slowly approached me. His gaze slid over my restrained body, then stopped at my feet, still encased in my black heels. A smile flickered across his lips.
"You know, Evelyn," he began, "Brian has a particular fascination. A fetish, if you prefer. Feet... your feet, to be precise, could be the key to capturing all his attention."
My breath quickened, but I averted my eyes, refusing to show that his words were affecting me. Yet, the name Brian resonated within me like a bell, awakening memories and feelings I could no longer contain.
"What is fascinating," Alan continued, "is that Ashley categorically refuses to let him near hers. Oh, she protects her feet as if her life depended on it. A pity, really. I often wonder if it irritates Brian to live in such frustration."
His words hit me like a slap. Part of me wanted to ignore what he was saying, but another part... another part couldn't help but imagine it. Brian, that captivating gaze I knew so well, fixed with contained obsession on those thick boots Ashley always wore. A dull tension settled within me, a mix of jealousy and desire. But I shouldn't think about him, not now.
Alan snapped his fingers, and the two masked women began to move. They approached my feet, their movements graceful and precise, as if they were dancing. One of them knelt, sliding her hands along my legs to reach my ankles. She gently placed her fingers on the heel of my shoe, slowly pulling until the leather slipped off, revealing my bare foot, freshly manicured, the nails painted a shiny black.
The other woman mimicked her partner's movements, removing the second heel with the same ceremonial slowness. My feet, freed, shivered slightly at the contact with the air. The tension in the room increased, each movement seeming calculated to maximize my anticipation.
"Let's see," Alan murmured, crossing his arms, "if your feet are as promising as I imagine. You are, after all, meticulous, Evelyn. Those perfect nails, that smooth skin... but are they sensitive?"
I clenched my fists, my toes instinctively curling. I had always known that my feet were a weakness. The slightest caress, the smallest pressure, was enough to awaken uncontrollable sensitivity. Yet, the women carefully avoided my toes for the moment, focusing on the rest.
One of them placed her fingers on my heel, gently massaging, as if exploring the texture of my skin. The sensation was pleasant, but a hint of worry rose. This wouldn't last.
The other woman traced circles with the tips of her nails on the arch of my foot, triggering a slight shiver. I bit my lip, refusing to give in so soon. But when they began to work in unison, one using a feather to brush my heels while the other slid her nails over the arch and sides of my feet, the first wave of uncontrolled laughter escaped my lips.
"Hihihi! Oh... no! Not... not there!" I protested, my voice wavering.
"Ah, interesting," Alan murmured, his smile widening. "Your feet are responding well, Evelyn. Brian would be... captivated, I believe. Continue, ladies."
The two women intensified their movements. One focused her attention on my heels, brushing them with feathers while pressing lightly with her fingers, triggering spasms in my legs. The other traced slow, methodical lines on the arches of my feet, alternating between light pressure and insidious caresses.
"Hahaha! Stop... I... hahaha! I can't!" I stammered, my laughter becoming more frantic.
My feet struggled despite myself, my toes wriggling frantically, curling and uncurling as if trying to escape this methodical assault. The women seemed almost fascinated by their expressiveness, exchanging a complicit glance before continuing.
"You see, Evelyn," Alan continued, unfazed. "You are reactive, indeed. But your toes... ah, they are so expressive. Brian would love to see them like this."
I shook my head, my laughter interspersed with gasps. But his words planted a seed in my mind. Brian. His face. His intense gaze. I could almost see him watching this scene, captivated, fascinated... but I didn't want to think about him now. Not here, not in this position of absolute vulnerability.
One of the women took a soft brush and began to use it on the sides of my feet, slowly sliding it down to my heels. The sensation was more intense than I had imagined, an insidious tickle that grew in strength.
"Hihihi! Please! Not that! Haha!" I exclaimed, pulling on my restraints to no avail.
Alan tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with malice.
"Patience, Evelyn. We are saving the best for last. But I must say... your reactions are already promising. Brian wouldn't be able to look away."
I blushed, my laughter redoubling under the assault of the two women. They continued to explore every inch of my feet, but still carefully avoiding my toes. I knew that moment would come. And, somewhere deep within me, part of me dreaded it as much as it anticipated it.
My breath quickened, but I averted my eyes, refusing to show that his words were affecting me. Yet, that name, that damned name, awakened a flood of memories and feelings I could no longer contain. Brian. This image of him, fascinated, observing my feet as Alan described, made a shiver rise in my body, a shiver that did not come from the tickling.
But I couldn't dwell on these thoughts. The two masked women had intensified their gestures, one now using a small soft brush, which she slid methodically between my toes, while the other applied firmer movements with her fingers. My whole body was caught in a whirlwind of sensations.
— Hahaha! No, I… hahaha! Not between… hahaha! The toes! I pleaded, please! my voice almost broken by laughter.
My toes twitched frantically, but each spasm seemed only to offer them new opportunities for attack. Alan, standing, crossed his arms and smiled, visibly satisfied.
— Yes, Evelyn, he murmured. I believe you are perfect. Absolutely perfect for what I have in mind.
The tickling finally ceased, leaving me panting, my body still shaking with residual shivers. The two masked women moved away, releasing me from the straps that had held me in an X. My wrists were slightly numb, and my legs trembled beneath me as I stepped down from the strange platform. I couldn't believe it was over. Alan observed me, his smug smile leaving no doubt about his satisfaction.
— Congratulations, Evelyn, he announced in a suave, almost solemn tone. You have brilliantly passed this audition. I had doubts, but you have proven that you are exactly what we need.
I swallowed with difficulty, the beats of my heart still irregular. I didn't dare reply to him, contenting myself with picking up the clothes neatly folded on a chair nearby. Putting on my black dress and readjusting my pumps, I noticed that he was still observing me, his piercing eyes seeming to scrutinize my every thought.
— Get dressed. We have another visit to make, he finally said, turning his gaze away to give me a semblance of discretion.
Once ready, I followed him silently out of the room. A black limousine was waiting for us, always impeccable, like everything surrounding Alan. Inside, the silence was only broken by the muffled sound of the wheels on the asphalt. He seemed lost in his thoughts, and I tried to gather mine. What I had just experienced was only a prelude. The audition. A test, he had said. But for what exactly?
The journey stopped in front of an imposing warehouse, its austere architecture hidden in an isolated corner of the city. Alan invited me to follow him, his steps resonating slightly on the concrete floor. A large metal door opened before us, revealing a surprisingly amenable space. The interior, though vast and industrial, exuded a strange warmth. The dim lights and the subtle scent of essential oil and polished wood gave the place an almost welcoming air.
Alan gestured for me to follow him down a narrow corridor. He opened a door, and I discovered a room at the center of which stood a chair, solidly fixed to the floor. The atmosphere was different here: every detail seemed designed to intensify intimacy and tension. A low table, carefully arranged, stood next to the chair. On this table, a silver bell, small but beautifully crafted, seemed to be waiting for me.
— Here is the scene, Evelyn, Alan said, positioning himself in the center of the room. Brian will be here, on this chair. He will be hypnotized, frozen, unable to move, unable to come, despite what he feels. As for you… your role will be simple. Make him crack. Make him beg you to touch him, and finally, ring this bell to lift his hypnosis.
I froze, my gaze alternating between the chair and the bell. My mind raced. What he was proposing to me was both strange and troubling.
— If you succeed, Evelyn, he continued, your debt will be erased. Your freedom regained. And your father will receive the care he needs, without limit, for the rest of his life.
— And if he… refuses? I murmured, barely audible.
Alan smiled softly, but his expression was heavy with implications.
— That won't happen, he assured me. You already know enough about him. His tastes. His weaknesses. His fantasies. I am certain you will know how to use that.
My mind blurred. Alan was right. Between the confidences he had made to me and my own experience with Brian, I knew how to excite him. How to play on his deepest desires. But the idea of manipulating him like this, of using this situation to achieve my own goals, left a bitter taste in my mouth.
— However, Alan resumed, glancing towards a closed door at the back of the room, there is a detail you should know.
I followed his gaze. The door, discreet but imposing, seemed to vibrate with an invisible presence.
— This door, Evelyn, is linked to the results of Ashley's trials. If it opens, it means she has failed, just as you could have today. And behind this door… is a very special space.
His voice had taken on a deeper, almost hypnotic tone.
— A space where the light is dimmed, where the air is charged with promises. A space where other truths, other desires, can be expressed.
I shivered, unable to look away from that door.
The room I entered was very different from the one I had just left. The light there was dim, soft and diffuse, creating an intimate and almost soothing atmosphere. A subtle scent floated in the air, a mix of essential oils and warm wood, enhanced by a diffuse warmth that seemed to cling to the skin. Yet, this apparent serenity was troubled by the precise details of the layout, designed for a very different function.
My gaze was immediately drawn to a slightly inclined bench placed in the center of the room. Right in front of it were stocks, made of dark, perfectly polished wood, framing the space intended for the feet. They were small but imposing in their design, each detail exuding an impression of mastery and discreet power. Next to the stocks was a low table, its surfaces carefully ordered. Various objects were arranged on it: a bottle of oil with tinted glass, a pristine white feather, a soft brush with delicate bristles, and other tools carefully aligned. These instruments seemed to be waiting, their promises inscribed in their calculated simplicity.
Alan advanced to the stocks, giving me a knowing look.
— Evelyn, please, take your place there.
I knew what he meant. With measured steps, I approached the bench and settled in, sliding my ankles into the stocks. The sensation of the smooth wood against my bare skin sent a involuntary shiver through me. Alan crouched down and closed the stocks with careful attention, but I noticed that he did not lock them. The mechanism remained voluntarily open, a factitious freedom that seemed to have a meaning he kept to himself.
I looked up at him, troubled by this setup, but before I could speak, he took out a fine silver chain, adorned with a delicately crafted small bell, from an inner pocket. He let the bell ring softly, producing a high, clear, and hypnotic sound.
— Ashley wears exactly the same one, he said with a sly smile. It's fascinating, really. Brian is… obsessed with this sound. This ringing disconcerts him, consumes him, devours him. And believe me, Evelyn, it could become your most effective weapon to make him crack.
I remained silent, my eyes fixed on the bracelet. Alan walked around the bench to attach the chain to my ankle, his gestures precise and measured. The bell rang softly, emitting a small ringing that seemed to fill the entire space, resonating in my mind like an inescapable truth.
— You will also have another freedom, Alan continued. You can choose not to lift the hypnosis that prevents Brian from moving. You can keep him frozen, vulnerable. At least… as long as that door doesn't open.
He pointed to the door I had noticed earlier, the one that exuded a almost palpable presence. My thoughts raced, trying to understand all the implications of his words. I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised a hand, gently cutting me off.
— I know what you're wondering, Evelyn. And for that, you need to know one thing.
He took out a bell from his pocket, very different from the one attached to my ankle. I recognized it instantly, my heart tightening slightly. That one, I knew. The sound it emitted when Alan rang it infiltrated my mind, numbing my thoughts in an instant. My body became heavy and malleable, but my consciousness remained strangely alert.
— Listen to me carefully, Evelyn, he said, his voice wrapping around me like an inescapable embrace. As soon as that door opens, you will come here. You will slide your ankles into these stocks and take this exact position. You will not be able to remove yourself, even if they remain unlocked, unless Brian himself invites you to do so. And if Brian is unable to move, you will then lift his hypnosis.
His words resonated in my head, inscribing themselves like an immutable rule. I could neither resist nor refuse. When the ringing stopped, I gradually regained my senses, the bell at my ankle emitting a slight noise as I stirred my feet.
Alan straightened up, a calculated smile playing on his lips, while his words resonated in the enclosed space.
— Listen to me well, Evelyn. If you find yourself in this position, then everything will change. It will no longer be a simple test of endurance or control. It will become a race against time. If Brian manages to make you come before you convince him to lift his hypnoses and before you make him come, it will be you who has lost.
I looked at him, stunned, my mind buzzing with questions and doubts. He spoke with an inescapable certainty, as if the scenario he described was inevitable.
— Lose? I breathed, my voice trembling despite myself. But… why?
Alan nodded, his piercing eyes fixed on mine.
— Evelyn, a chance is being offered to you to be free. It is not a due. It is a game, an opportunity. If you waste it… well, naturally, there are consequences.
My gaze slid to the stocks, that dark, polished wood that seemed to almost call to me, challenge me. The image of myself in that position, immobilized, vulnerable, appeared in my mind. And Brian, seeing me like this… what would he think? What would he feel?
As if reading my thoughts, Alan resumed, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips.
— Yes, Evelyn. You will very probably be tickled. And that will excite Brian. But it will be up to you to convince him. Up to you to play.
A wave of heat washed over me, mingled with fear and frustration. How could he believe I could lose like this? How could he imagine I could come before Brian? This idea seemed absurd to me, until Alan took the initiative, as if he had anticipated my doubts.
From his pocket, he took out two delicately crafted toe rings, each framing a finely engraved small silver bell. My breath caught when I saw them, my attention immediately drawn to these jewels, simple in appearance, but bearing a heavy significance.
— You see, Evelyn, I noticed how expressive your toes are. You move a lot, don't you? And I think we both know that this is your sensitive spot.
Before I could respond, he rang one of the bells with a delicate gesture. The crystalline sound rose, resonating in the room and finding an echo in my mind. A shiver ran through me, subtle but intense, like a vibration that seemed to wrap around me.
— From now on, Alan continued, this sound will have a particular effect on you. Each ringing of the bells on your toes will irresistibly excite you. And here, in this room… this effect will be amplified, until you reach orgasm.
When he rang them for the first time, a wave of heat immediately rose in me, stronger than I would have thought possible. My breath quickened, and I looked away, troubled by the power of this simple reaction.
— It's fascinating, Alan murmured, almost to himself. Although I must admit that I would have preferred to go further. But, alas, hypnosis has its limits. You are not yet entirely under my control.
I looked up at him, a silent question in my eyes. He simply smiled, his gaze fixed on the bells that rang softly with each involuntary movement of my feet.
— Now, Alan concluded, all of this depends on you, Evelyn. Brian, Ashley, you… and what you are willing to do to win. If you lose, then it is time for you to pay your debt. Perhaps through my games. Perhaps through something else.
He took a step back, letting me regain my composure.
— Go ahead. Seduce or constrain Brian, it doesn't matter how. As long as you win.
The journey stopped in front of an imposing warehouse, its austere architecture hidden in an isolated corner of the city. Alan invited me to follow him, his steps resonating slightly on the concrete floor. A large metal door opened before us, revealing a surprisingly amenable space. The interior, though vast and industrial, exuded a strange warmth. The dim lights and the subtle scent of essential oil and polished wood gave the place an almost welcoming air.
Alan gestured for me to follow him down a narrow corridor. He opened a door, and I discovered a room at the center of which stood a chair, solidly fixed to the floor. The atmosphere was different here: every detail seemed designed to intensify intimacy and tension. A low table, carefully arranged, stood next to the chair. On this table, a silver bell, small but beautifully crafted, seemed to be waiting for me.
— Here is the scene, Evelyn, Alan said, positioning himself in the center of the room. Brian will be here, on this chair. He will be hypnotized, frozen, unable to move, unable to come, despite what he feels. As for you… your role will be simple. Make him crack. Make him beg you to touch him, and finally, ring this bell to lift his hypnosis.
I froze, my gaze alternating between the chair and the bell. My mind raced. What he was proposing to me was both strange and troubling.
— If you succeed, Evelyn, he continued, your debt will be erased. Your freedom regained. And your father will receive the care he needs, without limit, for the rest of his life.
— And if he… refuses? I murmured, barely audible.
Alan smiled softly, but his expression was heavy with implications.
— That won't happen, he assured me. You already know enough about him. His tastes. His weaknesses. His fantasies. I am certain you will know how to use that.
My mind blurred. Alan was right. Between the confidences he had made to me and my own experience with Brian, I knew how to excite him. How to play on his deepest desires. But the idea of manipulating him like this, of using this situation to achieve my own goals, left a bitter taste in my mouth.
— However, Alan resumed, glancing towards a closed door at the back of the room, there is a detail you should know.
I followed his gaze. The door, discreet but imposing, seemed to vibrate with an invisible presence.
— This door, Evelyn, is linked to the results of Ashley's trials. If it opens, it means she has failed, just as you could have today. And behind this door… is a very special space.
His voice had taken on a deeper, almost hypnotic tone.
— A space where the light is dimmed, where the air is charged with promises. A space where other truths, other desires, can be expressed.
I shivered, unable to look away from that door.
The room I entered was very different from the one I had just left. The light there was dim, soft and diffuse, creating an intimate and almost soothing atmosphere. A subtle scent floated in the air, a mix of essential oils and warm wood, enhanced by a diffuse warmth that seemed to cling to the skin. Yet, this apparent serenity was troubled by the precise details of the layout, designed for a very different function.
My gaze was immediately drawn to a slightly inclined bench placed in the center of the room. Right in front of it were stocks, made of dark, perfectly polished wood, framing the space intended for the feet. They were small but imposing in their design, each detail exuding an impression of mastery and discreet power. Next to the stocks was a low table, its surfaces carefully ordered. Various objects were arranged on it: a bottle of oil with tinted glass, a pristine white feather, a soft brush with delicate bristles, and other tools carefully aligned. These instruments seemed to be waiting, their promises inscribed in their calculated simplicity.
Alan advanced to the stocks, giving me a knowing look.
— Evelyn, please, take your place there.
I knew what he meant. With measured steps, I approached the bench and settled in, sliding my ankles into the stocks. The sensation of the smooth wood against my bare skin sent a involuntary shiver through me. Alan crouched down and closed the stocks with careful attention, but I noticed that he did not lock them. The mechanism remained voluntarily open, a factitious freedom that seemed to have a meaning he kept to himself.
I looked up at him, troubled by this setup, but before I could speak, he took out a fine silver chain, adorned with a delicately crafted small bell, from an inner pocket. He let the bell ring softly, producing a high, clear, and hypnotic sound.
— Ashley wears exactly the same one, he said with a sly smile. It's fascinating, really. Brian is… obsessed with this sound. This ringing disconcerts him, consumes him, devours him. And believe me, Evelyn, it could become your most effective weapon to make him crack.
I remained silent, my eyes fixed on the bracelet. Alan walked around the bench to attach the chain to my ankle, his gestures precise and measured. The bell rang softly, emitting a small ringing that seemed to fill the entire space, resonating in my mind like an inescapable truth.
— You will also have another freedom, Alan continued. You can choose not to lift the hypnosis that prevents Brian from moving. You can keep him frozen, vulnerable. At least… as long as that door doesn't open.
He pointed to the door I had noticed earlier, the one that exuded a almost palpable presence. My thoughts raced, trying to understand all the implications of his words. I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised a hand, gently cutting me off.
— I know what you're wondering, Evelyn. And for that, you need to know one thing.
He took out a bell from his pocket, very different from the one attached to my ankle. I recognized it instantly, my heart tightening slightly. That one, I knew. The sound it emitted when Alan rang it infiltrated my mind, numbing my thoughts in an instant. My body became heavy and malleable, but my consciousness remained strangely alert.
— Listen to me carefully, Evelyn, he said, his voice wrapping around me like an inescapable embrace. As soon as that door opens, you will come here. You will slide your ankles into these stocks and take this exact position. You will not be able to remove yourself, even if they remain unlocked, unless Brian himself invites you to do so. And if Brian is unable to move, you will then lift his hypnosis.
His words resonated in my head, inscribing themselves like an immutable rule. I could neither resist nor refuse. When the ringing stopped, I gradually regained my senses, the bell at my ankle emitting a slight noise as I stirred my feet.
Alan straightened up, a calculated smile playing on his lips, while his words resonated in the enclosed space.
— Listen to me well, Evelyn. If you find yourself in this position, then everything will change. It will no longer be a simple test of endurance or control. It will become a race against time. If Brian manages to make you come before you convince him to lift his hypnoses and before you make him come, it will be you who has lost.
I looked at him, stunned, my mind buzzing with questions and doubts. He spoke with an inescapable certainty, as if the scenario he described was inevitable.
— Lose? I breathed, my voice trembling despite myself. But… why?
Alan nodded, his piercing eyes fixed on mine.
— Evelyn, a chance is being offered to you to be free. It is not a due. It is a game, an opportunity. If you waste it… well, naturally, there are consequences.
My gaze slid to the stocks, that dark, polished wood that seemed to almost call to me, challenge me. The image of myself in that position, immobilized, vulnerable, appeared in my mind. And Brian, seeing me like this… what would he think? What would he feel?
As if reading my thoughts, Alan resumed, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips.
— Yes, Evelyn. You will very probably be tickled. And that will excite Brian. But it will be up to you to convince him. Up to you to play.
A wave of heat washed over me, mingled with fear and frustration. How could he believe I could lose like this? How could he imagine I could come before Brian? This idea seemed absurd to me, until Alan took the initiative, as if he had anticipated my doubts.
From his pocket, he took out two delicately crafted toe rings, each framing a finely engraved small silver bell. My breath caught when I saw them, my attention immediately drawn to these jewels, simple in appearance, but bearing a heavy significance.
— You see, Evelyn, I noticed how expressive your toes are. You move a lot, don't you? And I think we both know that this is your sensitive spot.
Before I could respond, he rang one of the bells with a delicate gesture. The crystalline sound rose, resonating in the room and finding an echo in my mind. A shiver ran through me, subtle but intense, like a vibration that seemed to wrap around me.
— From now on, Alan continued, this sound will have a particular effect on you. Each ringing of the bells on your toes will irresistibly excite you. And here, in this room… this effect will be amplified, until you reach orgasm.
When he rang them for the first time, a wave of heat immediately rose in me, stronger than I would have thought possible. My breath quickened, and I looked away, troubled by the power of this simple reaction.
— It's fascinating, Alan murmured, almost to himself. Although I must admit that I would have preferred to go further. But, alas, hypnosis has its limits. You are not yet entirely under my control.
I looked up at him, a silent question in my eyes. He simply smiled, his gaze fixed on the bells that rang softly with each involuntary movement of my feet.
— Now, Alan concluded, all of this depends on you, Evelyn. Brian, Ashley, you… and what you are willing to do to win. If you lose, then it is time for you to pay your debt. Perhaps through my games. Perhaps through something else.
He took a step back, letting me regain my composure.
— Go ahead. Seduce or constrain Brian, it doesn't matter how. As long as you win.
The next day, I woke up with a weight on my chest, a mix of anticipation and fear. The bells, as small and innocuous as they seemed, weighed heavily in my mind. The delicate ringing they emitted the day before, even through my pumps, continued to resonate in my thoughts, like an insidious echo that refused to fade.
I knew Alan hadn't lied to me about their effects. Just that simple contact, that slight tremor, had been enough to awaken a heat I couldn't control. I couldn't afford to show the slightest weakness in front of Brian, let alone let these bells betray my intentions before the game even began.
After a quick shower and a cup of coffee I didn't finish, I stood in front of my mirror, barefoot, the rings still in place. Their silver gleam caught the morning light, as if they were mocking me. Each slight movement of my toes made the bells ring, a sound I felt more than I heard.
— Not a chance, I murmured, more to myself than to anyone else.
I bent down and grabbed a roll of fine, almost invisible tape that I had taken out in anticipation. My fingers trembled slightly as I wrapped it around my toes, immobilizing the bells. I tested a slight movement: no ringing. A relieved smile briefly appeared on my lips.
I repeated the operation for my other foot, taking care to secure the tape while ensuring my movements remained fluid. I then slipped my feet into my black polished pumps, their shiny leather reminding me of the calculated elegance I always displayed. I took a deep breath and straightened up, adjusting my satin dress before leaving my apartment.
The limousine was already waiting for me downstairs, luxurious and imposing, like an extension of the absolute control Alan liked to project. I got in without a word, my thoughts turned towards what awaited me.
I knew Alan hadn't lied to me about their effects. Just that simple contact, that slight tremor, had been enough to awaken a heat I couldn't control. I couldn't afford to show the slightest weakness in front of Brian, let alone let these bells betray my intentions before the game even began.
After a quick shower and a cup of coffee I didn't finish, I stood in front of my mirror, barefoot, the rings still in place. Their silver gleam caught the morning light, as if they were mocking me. Each slight movement of my toes made the bells ring, a sound I felt more than I heard.
— Not a chance, I murmured, more to myself than to anyone else.
I bent down and grabbed a roll of fine, almost invisible tape that I had taken out in anticipation. My fingers trembled slightly as I wrapped it around my toes, immobilizing the bells. I tested a slight movement: no ringing. A relieved smile briefly appeared on my lips.
I repeated the operation for my other foot, taking care to secure the tape while ensuring my movements remained fluid. I then slipped my feet into my black polished pumps, their shiny leather reminding me of the calculated elegance I always displayed. I took a deep breath and straightened up, adjusting my satin dress before leaving my apartment.
The limousine was already waiting for me downstairs, luxurious and imposing, like an extension of the absolute control Alan liked to project. I got in without a word, my thoughts turned towards what awaited me.
