The Offer Part 4

Twenty-eight days had passed.

The punishments, the endless corrections, the long hours of walking with heavy books balanced on her head while wearing six-inch heels, the stinging cane across her palms and thighs, the sharp slaps when her posture slipped, the hours of repeating refined sentences until her voice no longer sounded like the girl from the supermarket — all of it was behind her now.

Sana had become exactly what they wanted.

She moved through the mansion like she belonged there. Mornings were for private Pilates in the sunlit gym, followed by long, fragrant baths. Afternoons were spent shopping — driver waiting outside every boutique while she tried on silk dresses and diamond earrings as if they had always been hers. Evenings were for relaxing by the infinity pool with a chilled glass of something expensive, or curled up in the library with a book she now actually understood.

But every single evening, at precisely five o’clock, she sat in the elegant parlor with Ms. Valeria.

They drank tea from delicate bone-china cups. Valeria would ask about her day, and Sana would answer in the soft, cultured voice she had been trained to use. They discussed tomorrow’s schedule the way normal people discussed the weather — calm, civilised, almost friendly.

On this particular evening, Sana set her cup down and spoke with quiet confidence.

“Tomorrow I thought I would start with a light yoga session, then the driver can take me to the new gallery opening at eleven. After that, lunch at Le Jardin, then some time at the atelier for the new evening gowns. I should be back by four so I can prepare for dinner.”

Valeria listened without interrupting, then set her own cup down with a soft click.

“That won’t be necessary, Sana. From tomorrow you will remain at home and stay available at all times. Mr. Edmore returns in the morning. You are to be ready for him whenever he wishes to see you.”

Sana went completely still. For a moment the polished lady vanished and the old, sheepish girl flickered back into her eyes.

“Yes, Ms. Valeria,” she answered, voice small and uncertain again.

Valeria’s expression remained pleasant. “Good. And you will be in the salon room at eleven sharp. Mr. Edmore has instructed that some final changes be made before he arrives.”

The next morning began exactly as every morning now did.

A soft knock sounded on the bedroom door.

Sana, still half-buried in silk sheets, opened her eyes and called out in a clear, lazy voice, “You may enter, Lena.”

Only then did the door open. Lena stepped inside, bowed low with perfect deference, and murmured, “Good morning, Miss Sana.”

She moved to the windows and drew the heavy curtains aside, letting warm sunlight spill across the room. While she worked, Sana remained half-lying against the mountain of pillows, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Draw my bath with the rose oil this morning. And tell the kitchen I’ll have the usual breakfast in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Miss,” Lena answered softly, never once lifting her eyes higher than necessary.

At breakfast Sana sat with perfect posture, back straight, wrists resting lightly on the edge of the table, eating in the precise, elegant manner she had been drilled to use. Valeria watched her every movement.

Between delicate bites, Valeria began the morning checklist in her usual calm tone.

“Workout completed before breakfast?”

Sana nodded.

“Body thoroughly clean? No odour?”

Another nod.

“Body hair managed?”

Sana’s cheeks warmed. “Yes, Ms. Valeria.”

Valeria’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And internally? Have you performed your enema this morning as instructed?”

Sana’s fork paused mid-air. A flush of deep embarrassment crept up her neck. She gave a tiny, shy nod, unable to meet the older woman’s gaze.

Valeria’s face changed instantly. The polite smile vanished. Her voice turned sharp and strict — the same tone from the earliest, harshest days of training.

“You nodded? You actually nodded?” she snapped. “After everything I have taught you, you still cannot be trusted to maintain the most basic standards of cleanliness for Mr. Edmore? Do you think he wants to touch a girl who cannot even keep herself properly prepared? This is not carelessness, Sana. This is disrespect.”

Sana shrank in her chair, fork trembling in her hand. The scolding continued, each word cutting deeper than any cane ever had.

When Valeria finally stopped, she did not even turn her head. “Lena. Prepare the enema. The large bag. Use the special recipe.”

Sana almost choked on the bite still in her mouth. Her eyes flew to Valeria, wide and pleading, silently begging her not to do this.

Valeria met her gaze without mercy. “If you did not want this, you should have done it yourself this morning like a proper lady. From today until Mr. Edmore is satisfied with you, you will receive the same treatment every single morning. Understood?”

Sana swallowed hard, the lesson from weeks of punishment ringing loud in her mind: arguing only made it worse. Her voice came out small and obedient.

“Yes, Ms. Valeria.”

Lena had already slipped silently from the room to obey.

The rest of breakfast passed in heavy silence. When Valeria took the final sip of her tea, Lena returned and bowed.

“The preparation is complete, Ms. Valeria.”

Valeria glanced at Sana’s plate — spotless — and gave a single nod.

“Lena, clear the table. Then return. The enema will be performed in half an hour. Both of you should be prepared.”

With that, Valeria rose and left the dining room, pausing only long enough to add over her shoulder, “Walk a little in the garden, Sana. A heavy stomach will only make the discomfort worse.”

Sana stood quietly, the weight of the coming procedure already settling in her belly. She turned to Lena, voice steady despite the fear.

“You may find me in the backyard when it is time.”

Lena bowed once more. “Yes, Miss.”

Sana walked out into the sunlit garden, the new mid-back hair swaying gently against her silk robe, every step a reminder that even her body was no longer fully her own.

Lena appeared at the far end of the garden path, her steps quiet and respectful. Sana was still walking slowly among the rose bushes, trying to breathe through the growing discomfort in her belly. When Lena reached her, she bowed her head slightly.

“Miss Sana… it is time.”

Sana stopped. She gave a small, wordless nod, then turned back toward the house. Lena followed two steps behind, silent and obedient, as they walked the long corridor to the private bathroom reserved for these procedures.

Ms. Valeria was already waiting at the open doorway, arms folded, expression calm and unyielding.

Lena hurried ahead, opened the door fully, and stepped aside so Sana could enter first. Valeria followed, then Lena, who closed the heavy door with a soft click that sounded far too final.

“Strip,” Valeria ordered, voice flat and commanding.

Sana’s fingers trembled as she obeyed. She unbelted the silk robe and let it fall, then stepped out of the matching shorts. Within seconds she stood completely naked in the centre of the marble bathroom, arms instinctively trying to cover her breasts and between her legs. The cool air on her freshly waxed skin made her shiver. Shame burned across her face; she could feel both women’s eyes on every inch of her exposed body.

While Sana undressed, Lena moved quickly to help Valeria. She tied a clear plastic apron around the older woman’s waist, then did the same for herself. Both slipped on thin black gloves with practiced efficiency.

“Position,” Valeria said.

Sana knew what was required. She walked to the padded bench, bent forward at the waist, and gripped the edge with both hands. Her legs were spread shoulder-width, back arched, presenting herself fully. The position left nothing hidden. Her face burned with fresh humiliation.

Lena was already preparing the equipment. She filled the large red bag with the special recipe — warm, soapy, and slightly thicker than usual. She picked up the regular nozzle and began lubricating it.

“No,” Valeria interrupted sharply. “Use the punishment plug today.”

Lena froze for half a second, then reached for the other item on the tray: the double-headed plug. It was massive — long, thick, and ridged, designed to stretch both entrances at once to their absolute limit. Sana’s forehead broke out in a cold sweat. She had felt this before during training. The memory alone made her thighs tremble.

Once it was glistening with lube, Valeria gave the order. “Proceed, Lena.”

Lena stepped behind Sana. The blunt tip pressed against her most private opening — then the second head found the other. Sana’s breath hitched as the thick rubber began to push inside, stretching her wider than she thought possible. She whimpered, the sound small and broken.

“Twenty-five minutes,” Valeria told her. “The plug stays in until the timer ends. You will hold every drop. No accidents, or we repeat the entire process tomorrow with a larger bag.”

The warm liquid began to flow — slow at first, then stronger. Sana’s stomach started to swell. The pressure built quickly, turning into deep, cramping pain. By the time the final bag was emptying, her belly was visibly distended, skin tight and shiny. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks. Soft, involuntary whimpers kept escaping her lips no matter how hard she tried to stay quiet.

Valeria watched without pity. “Lena, you will stay right here until the bag is completely empty. Only then will you remove the apron and gloves and go straight to the salon room. Elise will be arriving shortly to prepare Sana.”

Lena bowed her head. “Yes, Ms. Valeria.”

Valeria turned back to Sana, voice cold. “When the bag is finished, you will kneel on the floor with your hands behind your head. Lena will return in exactly fifteen minutes to remove the plug and clean you. Until then, you will hold position and reflect on why this is necessary.”

With that, Valeria left the bathroom.

The door closed.

For the next twenty-five minutes the only sounds were the soft drip of the last drops entering Sana and her own shaky breathing. When the bag finally emptied, Lena quietly removed the tubing but left the monstrous plug locked deep inside her.

“You may kneel now, Miss,” Lena whispered.

Sana lowered herself to the cold marble floor on trembling knees, hands clasped behind her head, naked, swollen, and leaking tiny whimpers. The plug stretched her relentlessly. Every tiny shift sent fresh cramps through her belly. Tears continued to fall, splashing onto the marble between her knees.

While Sana cried alone in the luxurious bathroom, the rest of the house moved on as if nothing unusual was happening.

In the kitchen the chef prepared a light lunch for Ms. Valeria. Upstairs, two extra maids polished silver and changed fresh flowers in every vase. Outside, the gardener trimmed the hedges along the driveway. In the salon room Elise had already arrived; she and Valeria were chatting and laughing over coffee while they laid out combs, scissors, and styling products for whatever “changes” Mr. Edmore had ordered. The entire mansion hummed with calm, expensive efficiency — completely unaware, or perhaps simply indifferent, to the naked, crying young woman kneeling in pain on the bathroom floor.

Exactly fifteen minutes later the door opened again.

Lena stepped inside, apron and gloves already removed. Her voice was soft and perfectly respectful.

“It is time, Miss Sana.”

Sana slowly lowered her aching arms. Her legs were jelly; she had to push herself up using the bench. Her whole body shook — from the unbearable pressure inside, from the cramps, and from the deep, burning humiliation of having been left here like this, even in private.

Lena guided her on shaky steps to the special toilet connected to the drainage line. “Please squat over the pot, Miss.”

Sana obeyed, legs trembling as she lowered into the humiliating position. Lena’s gloved hand reached between her cheeks. The thick double-headed plug had swollen inside her from the pressure. Lena gripped it firmly and began to twist and pull.

Sana gasped sharply as the ridges dragged against her overstretched walls, stretching her even wider for one final, agonising moment. Then the plug slid free with a wet, obscene sound.

A violent gush followed instantly — warm, soapy water mixed with everything she had been forced to hold. Sana cried out, half in relief, half in humiliated sobs, struggling to keep her squat while her body emptied in powerful, uncontrollable waves.

When the flow finally slowed, Lena took a soft, warm, moist towel and gently cleaned her most private areas with careful, clinical strokes. The touch was gentle, but the shame of being cleaned like an object made fresh tears spill down Sana’s face.

“Quick shower, Miss,” Lena said softly. “Elise is already waiting in the salon room.”

Sana stepped into the large glass enclosure on unsteady legs. Hot water cascaded over her swollen, aching body. She stood there for the shortest minute possible, letting the spray rinse away the evidence of her punishment, while her mind spun with the knowledge that Mr. Edmore would be here soon — and that every inch of her had just been reminded exactly who now owned her.

Sana stepped out of the shower on shaky legs, skin still flushed from the ordeal. She quickly toweled herself dry, slipped into her usual soft house clothes — a simple cream silk blouse and wide-leg trousers — and wrapped her damp, mid-back hair in a thick white towel. Lena followed two steps behind as always, silent and perfectly obedient, carrying nothing but her quiet presence.

When Sana pushed open the door to the salon room, she was the picture of refined poise. Elise was already setting out her tools, humming softly. Sana smiled warmly, the same gracious smile she had practised for weeks.

“Good morning, Elise. So lovely to see you again,” she said, voice smooth and cultured, giving no hint whatsoever of the tears, the cramps, or the double-headed plug that had just been removed from her body. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting — I was in the shower and lost track of time.”

Elise returned the smile, professional and friendly. “No trouble at all, Miss Sana. You’re the lady of the house. We work on your schedule.”

Sana lowered herself into the hydraulic chair with practised elegance. The moment her back touched the leather, Elise moved behind her without another word. She shook out the new cape — thick, black, heavy rubber instead of the usual lightweight fabric — and draped it over Sana’s shoulders. Then she pulled it tight around her neck, much tighter than ever before, snapping the closure with a loud *click*. She tucked a thick absorbent towel deep into the collar all the way around, sealing every gap.

The weight hit Sana instantly. The rubber was dense, glossy, and completely non-breathable. Within seconds the heat from her own body began to build underneath it like a greenhouse. She could already feel a thin layer of sweat forming on her chest and back.

Valeria stepped into the doorway just as Elise finished. She glanced at the heavy rubber cape and gave a small, satisfied nod.

“Lena, you will stay in the room the entire time. Today’s session will be long — several hours at least. Miss Sana will not be able to use her hands once we begin, so be ready to feed her lunch in the chair if needed.”

Lena bowed deeply. “Yes, Ms. Valeria.”

Valeria turned to Elise with a friendly, almost casual tone. “Start whenever you’re ready, Elise. If you need anything at all, the maid is here. And if you need my help, just call.” With that she walked out, closing the door softly behind her.

Elise stepped in front of Sana, smiling brightly as if they were two girlfriends about to enjoy a fun beauty day.

“Alright, beautiful. First we’re going to give you a fresh trim — just cleaning up the ends for healthy growth. Then we’ll move on to colour. We’re going to take you to a gorgeous platinum shade. It’ll be stunning with your skin tone and those green eyes. After that we’ll do a deep conditioning hair spray treatment to keep everything strong and shiny. And finally I’ll set you in rollers for some soft, elegant curls. No harsh chemicals on the curls — we’ll let them set naturally, so you’ll sleep in the rollers tonight and I’ll come back tomorrow morning to finish the look and style it for Mr. Edmore’s return.”

She gave a little playful wink. “Don’t worry, the rollers are the comfy big ones. You’ll wake up looking like a movie star instead of someone who just rolled out of bed. Though if Mr. Edmore walks in while you still have them in, he might decide he likes the ‘just been thoroughly handled’ look.”

Elise laughed lightly at her own joke — the kind of harmless teasing that would have been funny if Sana had chosen any of this.

But Sana wasn’t laughing.

The heavy rubber cape was already trapping heat like an oven. Sweat prickled along her hairline. The towel around her neck was already damp. Every breath felt thicker, warmer. She sat perfectly still, hands resting in her lap under the cape, while Elise picked up her scissors.

“Chin up just a little, darling,” Elise said cheerfully, combing through the damp length. “We’ll take off about two inches to keep it fresh and strong. Can’t have split ends when Mr. Edmore gets back, can we?”

*Snip. Snip. Snip.*

Tiny, glossy black clippings fell onto the heavy black rubber, sliding down the glossy surface before dropping to the floor. Each cut felt like another small piece of control being taken. Elise kept chatting, light and breezy.

“You know, some girls pay thousands for this exact colour process. You’re getting it done in the comfort of your own home — lucky you!”

Sana forced a small smile, but inside she was already sweating harder. The rubber cape clung to her back like a second skin. The heat was building fast, and they hadn’t even started the bleach yet.

Elise finished the trim, then sectioned the hair with clips. She mixed the first batch of bleach, the sharp chemical smell filling the room.

“First round of lightening,” she announced happily. “We’ll do a few rounds today — your hair is so dark it’s going to fight us a little, but don’t worry, I’m a pro. You just sit back and… well, sweat it out, I suppose.”

She laughed again at her own joke.

Sana didn’t.

The first cold bleach was painted onto the roots, then the lengths. Elise worked quickly and efficiently, chatting the whole time about celebrity hair trends and how platinum would make Sana look “expensive and untouchable.” When every strand was saturated, she lowered the large hood dryer over Sana’s head and turned it on full blast.

Hot air roared around her scalp.

The rubber cape turned into a sauna. Sweat rolled down Sana’s neck, soaked into the towel, trickled between her breasts. Her hands stayed trapped beneath the heavy black material, useless. She could only sit there, breathing the humid, chemical-filled air, feeling the heat and the dominance of every second.

Elise patted her shoulder cheerfully. “Twenty-five minutes under the dryer, darling. Try to relax. Think of how gorgeous you’ll look for Mr. Edmore tomorrow.”

She winked again.

Sana stared straight ahead at her own reflection — flushed face, damp hair wrapped in foil, heavy black rubber cape gleaming under the lights — and felt the slow, humiliating truth settle deeper than any punishment ever had.

She wasn’t choosing any of this.

She was simply being prepared.

And every second under that scorching hood, inside that suffocating cape, reminded her exactly who she now belonged to.

The first round under the hood dryer was already hell.

Elise had painted the strong bleach mixture onto every strand with quick, clinical strokes, the sharp chemical smell burning Sana’s nostrils. The moment the heavy hood slammed down over her head, the full-blast heat roared to life. Within thirty seconds the thick black rubber cape turned into a portable oven. Sweat immediately beaded on Sana’s forehead, then rolled down her temples in fat droplets, soaking into the towel tucked at her neck.

She tried to speak. “Elise… please… can I have some water?”

The dryer’s deafening roar swallowed her voice completely. Elise was already scrolling on her phone, humming to herself, completely unaware.

Twenty-five long, sweltering minutes passed. Sana’s back was drenched. The silk blouse underneath the cape clung to her skin like wet paper. Her thighs stuck to the leather seat. When the hood finally lifted, her face was beet-red and glistening.

Elise smiled cheerfully. “Round one complete! You’re already lifting. Looking a little… toasty there, darling.”

Before Sana could beg for water, Elise mixed the second, much stronger batch of bleach. “This one’s going to tingle a bit more,” she said lightly, as if chatting about the weather. “Your hair is fighting us, but we’ll win.”

The brush strokes felt colder this time, then immediately hotter as the chemicals activated. The hood came down again. The heat was noticeably more intense. Sweat now poured freely down Sana’s spine, pooling at the base of the cape. Her bladder — already full from the earlier enema and the endless heat — began to throb with urgent pressure.

She tried again, louder, desperate. “Water… I need water…”

Nothing. The dryer roared on.

Halfway through the second round, Ms. Valeria strolled in carrying a tall, ice-cold glass of water. She stopped right in front of Sana, took a slow, deliberate sip, then held the glass just out of reach.

“My, you do look warm under there, Sana,” she said sweetly. “Thirsty?”

Sana’s eyes widened with frantic pleading. Her lips moved, forming silent words. Valeria watched her struggle for ten full seconds, then placed the untouched glass on the counter and walked out without another word.

By the time the second hood session ended, Sana was panting. Her platinum-blonde roots were now visible, but her face was shiny with sweat and her body was trembling.

Elise clapped. “Lunch time! Lena, come feed Miss Sana. She can’t use her hands with the cape on like this.”

Lena stepped forward with a tray. Elise lowered the hood just enough to expose Sana’s flushed face. The maid carefully lifted a forkful of salad to Sana’s lips.

Elise couldn’t resist a little joke. “Look at our elegant lady — sitting so perfectly still in her big locked chair while the maid spoon-feeds her like a naughty child who can’t be trusted with her own hands. If Mr. Edmore saw this he’d think we were babysitting instead of preparing his perfect doll.”

Sana’s cheeks burned with fresh humiliation. She was the lady of the house… yet here she was, mouth open like a helpless toddler while Lena fed her tiny bites.

The third round began immediately. Stronger bleach. Sharper sting on the scalp. The hood came down again. The heat was brutal now. Sana’s bladder screamed. She squirmed violently in the chair, trying to signal her desperate need.

Valeria returned, noticed the frantic shifting, and raised an eyebrow. “Do you need the toilet, Sana?”

Sana nodded desperately, tears of humiliation already forming.

Valeria shook her head. “Impossible. Removing the cape would ruin the entire colour process and create a mess on my clean floor. You will hold it. A lady controls her body at all times. Mr. Edmore will not accept anything less.”

The fourth and final bleaching round pushed her past the edge. The mixture stung like fire on her scalp. The hood roared louder than ever. Sweat streamed down her face in rivers. The pressure in her bladder became unbearable.

She lost control.

A hot, humiliating spurt escaped, then another, soaking into her silk trousers beneath the heavy rubber cape. The wet warmth spread across her lap and thighs. Sana’s eyes filled with tears of pure shame as she felt the accident happening in real time, unable to stop it, unable to hide it, trapped and helpless in the chair.

Neither Elise nor Lena commented. They simply continued working, as if a grown woman wetting herself in the salon chair was completely normal.

When the final hood finally lifted, Sana’s hair was a pale, ashy yellow. Elise smiled brightly. “Perfect base! Now the toner for that gorgeous icy platinum Mr. Edmore requested.”

After the toner and a deep conditioning spray, Elise began rolling the wet platinum hair onto large, heavy velcro rollers.

“Big, soft rollers for those beautiful bouncy curls he loves,” she explained. “No chemicals — we’ll let them set naturally. But to make sure they hold perfectly overnight…”

Valeria stepped in again. “Leave the cape on. And bring the portable sauna wrap.”

Lena fetched the sleek black infrared sauna blanket. They opened it, wrapped it tightly around Sana’s torso and thighs like a heated straightjacket, then sealed the heavy rubber cape back over everything and tightened the neck collar even more.

The sauna clicked on. Relentless infrared heat began baking her body from the inside out while the rollers sat heavy and awkward on her head.

Elise patted Sana’s shoulder. “It’s best if you stay right here in the chair until tomorrow morning, darling. Moving will loosen the rollers and ruin everything. The cape stays tied tight so nothing shifts. Lena will feed you dinner right here, and you’ll sleep sitting up — we’ll tilt the back slightly for you.”

Valeria added with a satisfied smile, “The sauna will help slim your waist even further. Consider it extra elegance training while you wait for your owner.”

Sana sat there — platinum hair locked in massive rollers, body baking inside two layers of suffocating heat, lap still damp with her own accident, hands trapped uselessly under the cape — completely helpless.

Lena brought dinner on a tray and began feeding her tiny spoonfuls of soup while Elise and Valeria chatted happily about tomorrow’s final styling.

Every second stretched into pure, burning humiliation.

The lady of the house had vanished.

Only a sweating, platinum-haired, roller-covered doll remained — locked in the salon chair, marinating in her own shame and heat, waiting for Mr. Edmore to return and inspect his finished product.

The night stretched on like a slow, deliberate punishment.

The salon chair had been tilted back just enough for Sana to “sleep,” but the heavy rubber cape, the infrared sauna wrap, and the dozens of large velcro rollers locked in her platinum hair made any real rest impossible. The sauna clicked and hummed quietly all night, baking her body in relentless dry heat. Sweat never stopped flowing. It pooled under the cape, soaked her silk clothes, and made the seat beneath her slick and uncomfortable.

Every hour or so, Elise or Valeria would return for “extra setting time.” The hood would come down again, full blast, for another twenty to thirty minutes. The hot air roared against the rollers, turning the inside of the cape into a steam box. Sana lost count of how many times it happened.

Around 2 a.m. the urge to use the toilet became unbearable. Her bladder, already punished from the day, screamed for relief.

“Ms. Valeria… please… I need the bathroom,” she whispered hoarsely into the darkness.

Valeria, who had come in to check the rollers, simply shook her head. “No, Sana. You are not to be removed from that chair until morning. Holding it is part of your training. A lady must learn control in any situation.”

At 4 a.m. the plea became desperate. “Please… I can’t hold it anymore… I’m begging you…”

Valeria’s voice was calm and final. “You will hold it until morning routine. The cape and sauna stay on. If you have an accident, you will sit in it until Elise arrives. Understood?”

Sana’s lips trembled. Fresh tears slipped down her flushed cheeks. She had never imagined this level of helplessness — trapped like furniture, forced to hold every bodily need while her body baked and her hair was forcibly curled for a man she now belonged to.

By 7 a.m. she had lost control again — a slow, humiliating leak that soaked further into her already damp clothes. The shame was worse than the heat. She sat in silent, defeated tears until the morning light finally crept into the salon.

At exactly 8 a.m. the door opened.

“Morning routine time,” Valeria announced. “You may be removed for bathing and dressing only. Then you will return to this exact chair and be wrapped again exactly as you are now.”

Lena and a second maid helped peel the sauna wrap and rubber cape off Sana’s sweat-drenched body. She was led on jelly legs to the bathroom, bathed quickly but thoroughly, dried, and dressed in fresh silk house clothes. The moment the bath was over, she was walked straight back to the salon chair.

The sauna wrap went on first — still warm from the night. Then the heavy black rubber cape was draped over her once more and cinched brutally tight at the neck. Because her hair and skin were still slightly damp from the bath, Valeria attached a special metal plate that slid under Sana’s chin and locked into the hood frame, completely sealing her head and face inside the dryer.

Elise lowered the hood.

The hot air blasted mercilessly — longer and hotter than any session yesterday. Sana’s world became nothing but roaring heat and the smell of her own sweat. The metal plate kept her head perfectly still, face trapped in the merciless stream. She couldn’t even turn away.

Forty-five minutes later the hood finally lifted.

Sana’s face was scarlet, hairline dripping, lips parted in exhausted gasps. The cool salon air felt like heaven against her burning skin, even though the rest of her body remained sealed inside the suffocating cape and sauna.

Lena stepped forward, voice soft and respectful. “Miss Sana… is there anything you would like?”

Sana swallowed, trying to sound like the sophisticated lady she was supposed to be. “Yes, Lena… some water would be wonderful. And… if it isn’t too much trouble… I would greatly appreciate breakfast as well.”

Lena bowed. “Of course, Miss. Right away.”

The moment Lena left the room, Ms. Valeria walked in, posture perfect as always.

“Good morning, Sana. Have you completed your full morning routine?”

“Yes, Ms. Valeria,” Sana answered quietly, voice hoarse from the long night.

“Workout? Cleanliness? Internal preparation?”

“Yes, Ms. Valeria.”

Valeria gave a satisfied nod.

Lena returned pushing a silver trolley with three full breakfast settings. At the same moment Elise breezed in, bright and cheerful.

“Good morning, everyone!” she sang, then grinned at Sana’s trapped, sweating form. “Well, well… look who’s still in her little salon prison. You look like a very expensive tomato, darling. Did the sauna give you that lovely glow or did you just miss us that much?”

Elise laughed at her own joke and moved behind Sana, checking the rollers. “These look perfect already, but let’s warm them up just a tiny bit more so the curls settle even deeper.”

She reached for the hood.

Valeria raised a hand. “Actually, Elise, this reminds me — Sana has lunch at The Sapphire Royale Hotel today. The boutique staff will be here shortly with her new dress and accessories. You’ll need to wait to release the curls.”

While Valeria was still speaking, Elise had already lowered the hood again and turned it to full blast. The roar filled Sana’s sealed world once more. She had no idea about the lunch, the boutique, or the hotel. She only knew the heat had returned, merciless and endless.

Valeria turned to Elise with a pleasant smile. “Have a seat, Elise. Lena, feed Sana her breakfast while we eat ours.”

Lena obediently lifted the first forkful toward Sana’s trapped, hooded face while the two women sat down comfortably at the small table nearby, chatting and enjoying their meal as if the platinum-haired, rubber-caped doll in the chair was simply part of the furniture.

Sana sat there — head locked, body baking, curls being forcibly set — completely helpless, listening to their light laughter and the clink of silverware, while another long, humiliating day of preparation began.