Chapter XII: The Path to Acceptance
It had been a few weeks since Anna had planted the thought in Evan's mind. She had let it sit there, burrowing deeper with each passing day, a whisper he couldn't escape. She didn't rush him. She didn't need to.
Real submission--true transformation--was a slow erosion.
And Evan was unraveling beautifully.
She stood in the doorway of his gooning cave, watching him slump in his chair, his body weaker than before, his movements slower, his fingers twitching from withdrawal. He had never realized how much of his willpower had been linked to his physicality. He had been proud of his size, his strength, his stamina.
Now?
Now, he was soft.
Not just in mind, but in body.
The chastity had ensured that.
Weeks locked away, weeks of no touching, no stimulation--his cock, once thick and pulsing with need, had become something pathetic. Shrinking. Fading from his own sense of identity. His muscles had softened too, his body slowly losing definition, weakened by a lack of testosterone, by constant edging with no reward, by the artificial warmth of the blow that filled his veins but never truly satisfied him.
And that was exactly how she wanted him.
Her heels clicked against the floor as she stepped inside, letting him hear the sound before he even lifted his head. His pupils were already dilated--whether from the withdrawal or from the sound of her approach, she couldn't tell. Probably both.
"Evan, love... you look tense."
Her voice was warm, understanding, but there was a knowing sharpness beneath it. She settled onto the edge of the desk, crossing her legs slowly, watching the way his eyes flickered down, drawn to her heels. Good. Even in his daze, his conditioning held firm.
"Tell me, love... what's been on your mind?"
She already knew. She had seen it--the way his body twitched with frustration, the way his eyes lingered too long on certain clips, the way his breathing hitched at certain words.
But she needed him to say it.
Evan hesitated, shifting in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests like he was trying to hold onto something. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
"I just... it's hard, Anna. The waiting. The... the not being able to--"
She chuckled softly, shaking her head.
"Oh, Evan... of course it's hard. That's the point."
She reached into her pocket, pulling out the familiar, pristine baggie--the one thing that could ease him, soften him, keep him from thinking too much. She tapped a small, perfect line onto her heel, tilting her foot toward him.
"Come now, love. I think we both know what you need first."
She didn't command him. She didn't force him.
She just... waited.
