Hudson swore he had never been in such an awkward situation in his entire life.He lived one floor below Carlo Ferretti and came over every morning at the same time to help manage his daily affairs. Naturally, he wouldn’t disturb his master so early by going straight to his bedroom. Instead, he headed to the studio, the only other place that required daily cleaning.As he pushed the door open, he saw a girl lying on top of his master, and they seemed to be kissing. Carlo had never brought a girl to this penthouse before, so this was a scene Hudson had not expected in the slightest.Thankfully, his quick instincts kicked in. He immediately took two steps back, trying to close the door quietly, but the girl on top of Carlo must have heard something. She turned around, startled like a frightened bunny. Hudson got a good look at her face and realized it was the same girl Carlo had taken to the hotel a few weeks ago!Lyla’s face was flushed with embarrassment, as red as a tomato. From the
Lyla returned to her dorm and slept soundly. When she woke up, it was already afternoon. She plugged in her phone, and as it powered on, she noticed two or three missed calls, all from the same unknown number.Thinking it might be important, she called back, and the person on the other end answered quickly."Not answering my calls? I thought that crazy woman might've killed you in the lab," came the all-too-familiar mocking tone. There was no doubt—it was Carlo.Despite the teasing, his words carried a hint of concern. A warm feeling spread through Lyla’s chest. She replied awkwardly, “I... I was too exhausted and fell asleep.”“Your stuff’s fixed. When are you picking them up?” His tone was casual, as if both of them were purposefully avoiding the awkward kiss from earlier that morning.Lyla glanced at the time. It was already 4 PM. Even if she got up, washed, ate, and took the subway to his place, it would be nighttime by the time she arrived. Just thinking about last night made her
Lyla’s fingers tightened around her phone as she read Carlo’s message. She knew his words were meant to be a warning, but she couldn't wait any longer.Considering the dinner tonight, she quickly freshened up and chose a decent dress, then headed to the lab. There, she used a public computer to write a detailed email to the department chair and her advisor, explaining the events of the previous night and attaching the screenshot as evidence.By the time she finished, it was almost 6 p.m., yet her phone had no messages or calls from Carlo. What happened to dinner? Lyla huffed in annoyance. The wave of relief she'd felt earlier had given way to hunger, and her stomach growled as if on cue.Not one to let a man’s delay ruin her plans, she texted Carlo, "I'm at the lab. When are you coming?"*After five minutes, Carlo responded with a simple, "Busy. Grab something to eat and wait for me." The tone was casual, like she was some secret lover waiting on him to finish up his work.Lyla rolle
Lyla felt a surge of energy as she struggled to open her eyes. Through her blurred vision, she could make out Carlo’s familiar figure running toward her. A few meters away, he leaped into the air and delivered a powerful kick, sending Jessica flying.The pressure on her throat vanished instantly, and Lyla could finally breathe again. She lay on the ground, gasping for air as her vision cleared. For the first time, she saw an expression on Carlo's face that wasn’t his usual mockery or anger—it was fear, as if he was terrified of losing something precious. He grabbed her hand tightly and helped her sit up."Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.Lyla shook her head. She still couldn’t speak, her body trembling from the shock and fear. Carlo didn’t say anything further. He examined her, pressing gently on her limbs and torso to make sure she hadn’t broken any bones. Satisfied she wasn’t seriously hurt, he scooped her up effortlessly in his arms and carried her tow
Lyla grabbed her phone from Carlo’s car and picked up her bag from the ground, signaling for Carlo to follow.Carlo didn’t refuse, but instead of taking the elevator, he motioned for Lyla to lead him up the stairs. As they ascended, he trailed behind her, speaking in Italian on the phone, a language Lyla couldn’t understand. Concern crept over her—what if he was planning something dangerous against Jessica? At every landing, she turned her head slightly to observe his expression, searching for any sign of malice.Carlo, noticing her subtle movements, paused just before the next stairwell. He temporarily put his phone aside and, still in Italian, called out, "Hey, Lyla, will you be my girlfriend?"“Huh?” Lyla stopped and turned around, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you talking to me?"Seeing the confusion in her expression, Carlo realized she hadn’t understood. His lips curled into a mischievous smile as he switched to English, “Oh, I was just ordering food. Authentic Italian. I
Lyla immediately stopped what she was doing, concern flashing across her face. "Did I hurt you?" she asked. She realized she had tied the bandage a bit too tight, and now blood was seeping through, staining the gauze.Carlo furrowed his brows, his expression a mix of pain and innocence. "Lyla, do you hate me that much?"Lyla knew he was faking it—Carlo was a master at twisting words—but guilt still crept in. After all, he had gotten hurt because of her. She carefully unwrapped the bloodied bandage and replaced it with a fresh roll, this time working more gently.Carlo remained silent, his eyes fixated on the equipment in the lab.Lyla followed his gaze before explaining, "That's our lab’s newest piece of equipment. It measures endorphin levels.""Endorphins?" Carlo inquired, intrigued."Yes," she continued, "endorphins are chemicals produced in the brain that act like morphine, providing pain relief and pleasure. Our study explores the relationship between pain and stress relief. One
"Bend over."The man's voice echoed behind her, magnetic and irresistible.Lyla Sinclair trembled, feeling the coarse texture of the small leather whip grazing across her hips, again and again, each stroke both a threat and a tease.She instinctively leaned forward, her hands pressed against the couch. Her underwear and skirt had somehow been removed, leaving her in a shameful, exposed position.The man’s broad hand caressed her buttocks, gently patting her as if calming a prized mare, a mix of punishment and reward.In this intoxicating caress, Lyla gradually abandoned her shame. Summoning her courage, she leaned back and, with a trembling voice, said, “Let me see you.”The next second, the whip landed hard on her skin, making her gasp in pain.“Watch your tone,” the man said coolly, “What should you call me?”The pain sharpened her mind. Lyla knew the rules of this game well—she should address him as Master. But her innate pride and shame kept her from uttering the word.The whip lin
Three years ago, at the age of 23, Lyla was accepted into Stonemont University’s psychology department due to her exceptional academic achievements. Skipping the master’s program, she became the youngest fully-funded PhD student, studying under an advisor renowned in academic circles. Her future looked promising, yet she was anxious—her advisor's primary research focus was on BD/SM psychology.Growing up in a traditional Christian family, Lyla had always received a conservative education about sex. She had never encountered anything related to BD/SM, and she found it difficult to understand.She once asked her advisor why, during the interview, he chose her despite knowing that her background didn’t quite align with his research.Her advisor gazed into her pale blue eyes, as clear as a river, and said sincerely, "You’re a girl with a strong curiosity, and you’re brave and persistent in your pursuit of answers. You’re a natural researcher—that’s why I chose you."Becoming a research sc