Rich Ladyвђ™s Slave Role... 90%

Her "Master" for these sessions was Julian, a man who, in the real world, was a quiet history professor with a penchant for old books and tea. But here, he was the architect of her temporary cage.

The next morning, Elara was back in her tailored charcoal suit, stepping into a waiting limo. Her assistant was already rattling off the day's crises. Elara listened, her face a mask of professional stoicism. But as she adjusted her silk scarf, her fingers brushed the faint, invisible mark of the collar she had worn the night before. She smiled a small, private smile. The world thought she was the one in control, but she knew the secret power of letting go. Rich Lady’s Slave Role...

When she finished, hours later, Julian walked the length of the hall. He stopped in front of her, lifting her chin with a single finger. "You did well, Elara. You can rest now." Her "Master" for these sessions was Julian, a

"Why do you come here, Elara?" he asked softly. "You have everything." Her assistant was already rattling off the day's crises