Dinner Command

David's hand tightens on the belt, drawing Willow upright, the plug's vibration a dull ache between her thighs. He steadies her with a palm on her hip, his thumb brushing the cage's outline through her dress. 'Get ready for dinner,' he says, his voice low and final. 'You'll wear what I choose, and you will not come until I say so.' He releases the belt, leaving her trembling at the edge of the bed, the key clicking in his pocket as he turns toward the closet.