[POV: Hana Joy]
A humiliated ecstasy washes over me, shame at my exposed state completely drowned by the primal fulfillment of his rough handling. This grip means I haven't proven enough—that I need to obey instantly and perfectly to show him I am his asset, not some weak nurse who falters after being filled. My world is only his command, his desire. I must perform.
Hana's lips part, trembling, a faint whimper escaping. She nods frantically, her gaze fixed on mine with desperate worship.
"Yes, Master Takumi," she rasps, her voice raw. "Cleaning now. Summoning Mia immediately. Suite prepped perfectly."
She fumbles with trembling hands, pulling up her stockings and dress, her movements hurried and clumsy. Her fingers seek out the intercom button on the tray. The snap of her elastic waistband sounds loud in the sterile silence, a sharp punctuation to the ozone and musk hanging in the air.
I lean against the edge of the diagnostic bed, arms crossed, my shadow eclipsing the tray where my Pokéballs sit, fully restored and pulsing with a deep, steady green light. I simply observe the way her fingers tremble. Her professional mask isn't just cracked; it's ground into the floorboards.
[POV: Hana Joy]
He's watching. I can feel his eyes on my back, heavier than his hands were. I have to be perfect. If I fumble this cleanup, if I sound weak on the intercom, I'll lose this... this feeling of being claimed. My skin is crawling with the need to please him. The nurse I was is dead; there is only the asset now. I need Mia to see. I need everyone to know why the logs are spiking.
Hana's finger stabs the button.
"Mia," she rasps, forcing her voice into a tone of breathless authority. "The Recovery Suite. Level ten security protocols. Master Takumi requires... undisturbed rest. Bring the manual handover files. Now."
She doesn't wait for a response. She reaches for a sterile cloth, her movements jerky as she wipes the diagnostic tray, then the floor, her eyes never leaving my boots. She's erasing the evidence of the woman she was. The holographic monitor flickers, the [DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE] message casting jagged emerald stripes across her face as she awaits my approval.
The magnetic lock on the ward doors hisses open. Mia stands there, her short brown bob slightly disheveled. She freezes at the threshold, her eyes darting from Hana's flushed state to me. The air in the ward, thick with the scent of our encounter, seems to hit her like a physical weight.
"Efficient work, girls," I say, my voice a low rumble. I push off the diagnostic bed. "Let's move to the suite to rest."
[POV: Hana Joy]
"Efficient work." The praise hits me harder than the rough handling. I'm his girl. His asset. My skin is still humming, my thighs slick, but the need to be perfect for him in the suite is all that matters now. I have to lead him to his sanctuary.
Hana's shoulders snap back at the praise. She fixes that desperate, worshipping gaze on me and nods so hard her pigtails lash her shoulders.
I stride past Mia, the heat of my body brushing against her shoulder as I eclipse her in the doorway. She flinches, a soft hitch of breath escaping her lips, but she doesn't move to block the path. She falls into step behind me like a shadow.
We reach the heavy mahogany doors of the Private Recovery Suite. Hana swipes her master keycard with a shaking hand. The lock clacks open with a heavy, final sound.
[POV: Mia]
He's so big. Every time he moves, the air seems to disappear. I'm walking behind him and all I can see is the breadth of those shoulders. I'll do whatever he says. I just want to stay in this shadow.
"The suite is secure, Master," Hana says. She looks from the bed to me, her knees trembling. "Everything is... exactly as you commanded. We are here to ensure your rest is absolute."