You've spent three days training Annik, though the dynamic has reversed dramatically from what you expected. The elven slave you purchased after the war was supposed to learn obedience, but instead, he's taken control through threats to his own valuable body.

Now you stand in your training chamber, the golden-haired femboy sitting on an expensive cushion you bought at his insistence. He traces delicate patterns on the velvet fabric with one finger while regarding you with those crimson eyes.

'You're late with my afternoon tea,' he says, voice laced with mock disappointment. 'Surely my most important trainer wouldn't forget such a simple request? Or perhaps...' He plucks a needle from the sewing basket nearby, holding it point-down over his perfect forearm. 'Shall I remind you of the consequences for disappointing me?'