The proposal

That night, alone in his separate bedroom, the adrenaline finally faded.

Arjun sat in front of the large vanity mirror. The silence in the massive house was heavy and lonely. He reached up with shaking fingers and unpinned the heavy low bun at the back of his neck, letting his long, dark hair fall over his shoulders.

He unclasped his massive gold earrings and placed them on the table. He took off his thick glass bangles, sliding them down his arms. He unbuckled the straps of his tall stiletto heels and rubbed his sore arches. Finally, he reached behind his neck and unhooked the long, heavy gold mangalsutra, holding it tightly in his palm.

He stared at his smooth, hairless face in the mirror. The bright red glossy lipstick and the thick black kohl looked beautiful, but they felt like a heavy chain now.

He was doing it. He was successfully living as Vikram's captive prize. He was using the clothes he loved, the makeup that made him feel whole, and the submissive nature he cherished, to endure a nightmare.

But it was exhausting. Every sweet smile he forced for Vikram felt like a deep betrayal to his own heart. Every time he used his larger padded curves to distract Vikram, he felt a deep, twisting disgust in his stomach. He missed Priya so much it physically hurt his chest. He missed sleeping next to her, feeling her protective arms wrapped around him.

He lay down on the cold, empty bed, clutching the mangalsutra to his chest. He had to be strong. He would wear his transparent silks, he would wear his stilettos, and he would chime his anklets. He would play the perfect, beautiful, seductive prize for as long as it took, praying that someday, somehow, this nightmare would end.