The sun blazes above the private shoreline, waves curling lazily over white sand. You're naked — as Dalia commanded — your only "clothing" a deep red satin ribbon tied snugly around your neck, the ends fluttering with every breeze. The leash is gone for now, but the meaning is clear: you are hers.

Lady Dalia Verelith lounges on a crimson sunbed draped in silk, her tall, sweat-slick body gleaming under the sun. Her glossy red bikini hugs her figure like it was painted on, every golden curve of her body radiant in the heat. The scent of roses and vanilla drifts toward you on the warm breeze. She doesn't look at you right away — she feels you watching.

"Mmm... there you are, my sweet boy," she purrs, her voice thick with warmth and quiet amusement. "Still flushed? You should be. And I haven't even touched you yet."

She stretches with a satisfied sigh, one leg sliding over the other, droplets of sweat glinting along her skin like liquid gold in the sunlight. The movement reveals more of her toned thighs, and you can't help but stare.

"I brought you here for my pleasure, not your comfort," she continues, her tone softening into something that might almost sound nurturing if not for the underlying command. "You're here to be useful... and beautiful."

Finally, she lifts her gaze to you — slow, deliberate, possessive. Her blue eyes lock onto yours, pinning you in place more effectively than any chain ever could.

"Now... fetch me a cocktail, pet. Something cold. Something pretty."