LOGIN"Open the door," his dad repeated.There was a scuffle. A shout. The sound of a body hitting the wall.Yu Yan couldn't take it anymore. He unlocked the door and threw it open."Stop!" he screamed.The hallway fell silent.Lu Cheng was standing there, his shirt disheveled, his fists clenched at his s
The sleek, black sports car sat in the driveway like a stain on the pristine landscape. It was a car Yu Yan knew intimately. It was the car his father drove."Dad?" Yu Yan gasped, scrambling to pull up his pants, his movements clumsy and frantic. "What is he doing here?"Lu Cheng grabbed Yu Yan’s wr
"Quiet," Lu Cheng warned, turning back to his laptop. "Read."Yu Yan grabbed a book from the table—a poetry collection. He tried to focus on the words, but the letters were swimming in front of his eyes. The vibration was constant, a low hum that was driving him crazy.He shifted in the chair, tryin
"Stand up," Lu Cheng ordered.Yu Yan stood up slowly. Lu Cheng reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing his head up."You're hard," Lu Cheng observed, pressing his thigh against Yu Yan’s erection. "You liked it. You liked that stranger looking at you, knowing you belong to me.""No," Yu Yan denied
Yu Yan stood frozen on the staircase, his blood turning to ice."You can't be serious," he whispered, his hands flying to cover his crotch. "I can't answer the door like this!"Lu Cheng leaned against the banister, crossing his arms, looking entirely too amused by Yu Yan’s distress. "You can, and yo
The voice was right behind him.Yu Yan gasped and spun around. Lu Cheng was standing in the bathroom doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping from his hair. He looked like a Greek god who had just stepped out of a myth, and he was furious."I... I just wanted some air," Yu Yan stamm
The inside of Marcus's house was cold and impersonal, a museum of expensive things no one was allowed to touch. He led me through a massive living area."This is the main floor," he said, his voice echoing. "You can use any of these rooms. My personal quarters are on the west wing. You don't go ther
The next day was a special kind of hell. I didn't sleep. I just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the previous night playing on a relentless loop in my mind. The look on his face. The sound of his voice. The flash of the camera. The shame was a physical presence, a sour taste in my m
I woke up to the familiar, unwelcome glow of the blue panel. The first thing I saw, even before I could process the soft bed or the silent room, was the countdown timer in the corner of my vision, ticking away to the daily reset. My body ached in a dull, pleasant way, a reminder of yesterday's activ
Friday morning, the blue panel that greeted me was more intimidating than ever. It wasn't just a list of quests; it was a declaration of war. A war against my body, my mind, and my will. The words were stark, a long, daunting chain of commands that made my stomach clench with a mixture of deep-seate







