***Content Warning / Disclaimer: This chapter contains mature themes, including psychological manipulation, violence, and adult content that may be disturbing or triggering to some readers. It is intended for audiences 18 years and older. Reader discretion is strongly advised. If you are sensitive to themes involving coercion or emotional distress, please proceed with caution or consider skipping this chapter. ***
Every day since he handed a paper with his number on it to Lily, he always checked his phone and every single day he sent her luxurious gifts. Rue de Rêve branded clothes, bags, jewelries, flowers and the event sent a bag full of money once with a letter that says:
"Please accept my offer. It has to be you" But none of those worked and Lily gave back everything he gave and left it to Chester's address and mail. She refuses everything and wants nothing to do with fashion. She doesn't have time for it.
Cameron stood in the middle of his secret studio; rolls of luxurious fabric draped over mannequins like ghosts watching him. The sketches that once flowed with imagination now mocked him in silence. Two weeks. Only two weeks until the Met Gala. And his muse, his perfect vision, still refused to accept her fate.
He threw his pencil across the room out of frustration.
"I can't believe this,"he muttered through clenched teeth. "I want her. I need her. How can I make her join me? It has to be her; I need this to be perfect."
His chest rose and fell in rapid, ragged breaths. Then a spark, no, a storm - ignited behind his eyes. Slowly, his lips curled into a devilish smile.
"If she won't come willingly," he whispered, "then I'll make sure she can't say no. She'll see. She was meant to wear my creation. She just doesn't understand it yet."
That night, Lily was walking home from the campus workshop, arms sore from hauling model boards and her ever-heavy drafting case. It was late, the city lights flickering like tired stars. She didn't notice the sleek black van pull up behind her until it was too late.
A cloth. A sudden pressure. A bitter, chemical smell.
Darkness.
Dim chandeliers flickered above, their light dancing across the cold cement walls of what looked like an underground wine cellar turned luxury dungeon. Lily woke up in complete darkness, she can't open her eyes, she was lying on a velvet chaise lounge. She was bound, her hands and legs tied, and a blindfold covered her eyes. She couldn't move.
Her head throbbed.
"W-Where am I?" Her voice cracked as panic gripped her chest. "Hello?!" Tears started to come out soaking the cloth covering her eyes.
The door creaked open.
Cameron and Chester entered the room. Cameron leaned against the door, staying there, while Chester approached Lily, stopping just close enough for her to hear him speak.
"You're safe," he said, locking the door behind him. "No need to cry. Really."
"What is this? What the hell are you doing? Please let me go" She sobbed as she demanded.
"Cameron didn't want it to come to this. But you gave him no choice. You're… the idea, the one we need, Lily. He sees something in you that no one else does. He just wants you to realize it too." Chester calmly explained to her.
"This is insane. Let me go. Please"
But Cameron's gaze turned cold as he stepped closer to her. "Let me make something clear. We'll let you go but you need to agree to my terms. Now if You try to escape, we erase you. You disappear — poof — and no one will even ask where you went. Architecture student vanishes? It'll be a headline for a day. Tops."
Lily's stomach twisted. Her breath caught in her throat. She recognizes his voice. "It's Cameron. Oh my god!" she thought. She started to cry even more, begged him to let her go and as she continues to cry and ask for their mercy.
"Please Cameron, I know that's you. I know you're a good person. You don't have to do this! Please! I really don't wanna do it. I have my own life. Please Let me go..."
Cameron froze. He started to feel something inside him, looking at her made him hot and he started sweating. He couldn't take it anymore and he ran out of the room.
Chester could only watch as Cameron rushed out of the room. Worry was written all over his face, but he understood what it meant. Or so he thought. He remained in the room, continuing his conversation with Lily, trying to persuade her.
"You can fight it," he said. "Or… you can step into your destiny. Wear the gown. Be the muse. And walk away with everything you've ever dreamed of — fame, money, your tuition paid, a future. You don't have to do anything else. Just play the part. We can take care of everything for you to focus on modeling for us."
Upstairs Cameron sat on the edge of the bathroom, shoulders tense, jaw locked. It's weird, this isn't the first time he had seem a woman cry, or beg, or even girls being tied up. But Her tears did something to him. Not pity, not empathy, not power — but something raw and chaotic.
He felt hot. He looks down between his legs, he could feel his member throbbing. His face is bright red and is breaths are heavy and hot.
This is the first time that this happened to him. His heart started racing. The image of her is stuck in his head, it keeps repeating, it's on loop. He couldn't understand. Is it a new kink he's just now discovering? But that couldn't be. It's not like he's virgin anymore, or that he hasn't tried BDSM before. He had. He thought to himself that he had experienced it all already.
But why did that scene make him this way.
Is it possible that she's the only one who made him this way? Her?
He wasn't sure, but one thing was certain, he couldn't control himself in this moment.
"Why am I being turned on with that scene?" He thought as he put his hand in his mouth looking at his member. Tempted.
He couldn't take it anymore and without any second thought he lets out his excited member and played with it. He had to face the wall, planting his left hand firmly against the wall for balance support. His head hung low between his shoulders, forehead nearly touching the wall as he strokes his member sliding up and down. HARD.
Imagining the scene he had seen, repeatedly playing in his head. And as he about to reach his climax, all he could think of was her face. Her blindfolded, wet of tears face, begging him to let go.
He strokes it harder, faster, overwhelmed by a feeling he'd never experienced before. Closing his eyes, He imagines her image more clearly—the curve of her lips, her tear-streaked rosy cheeks. Her body rests gracefully on the velvet chaise lounge, and he traces the curves of her form, noting how perfectly they align with the contours of the chair.
"fuckkkk." he screamed in his mind as he climaxes.
"What's wrong with me? What just happened" he said as he looks at the white goo dripping in his hands.
It wasn't how he imagined their union would begin. But it had begun.
He pressed his forehead to the cool wall of the bathroom
"She's here," he whispered. "And I'll show her. Not with threats. Not with pain. With beauty. With everything I've made — for her."