7:50 a.m. Lin Wan had just finished the morning kneel and was halfway to the bathroom when the message came in.

“Stockings today. Black. The sheer pair. Skirt past the knees. Underneath is your call — but the stockings stay on till you’re home.”

Her ears went hot. Fingertips tingly. “Yes, Master. Got it.”

Bottom drawer. The black sheers — they felt like nothing in her hands, like holding smoke. She sat on the bed edge, rolled one into a donut, worked it over her toes. Up over the arch — she curled her toes without meaning to — up the calf, the band settling on her thigh with a little grip. She breathed out. Her whole leg felt wrapped. Like armor you could breathe through.

Mirror check: same office outfit as always. White shirt, low ponytail. Only the legs were different — this faint sheen. She turned; the skirt swung; the stockings caught the light. She knelt, photographed below the knees, sent it.

“Master, your pup is dressed. Pass inspection?”

“Pass. Good pup.” Fast reply. “That layer is my stamp today. Don’t snag it. Snag it and you’re kneeling for punishment tonight.”

“Your pup will be careful.” She held the phone to her chest. Heart going too fast for 7:50 a.m.

She went down the stairs like she was defusing something. Moved her bag to the other shoulder — strap near stockings, bad idea. The stair railing had that rough patch; she gave it a wide berth. Subway: stood the whole way, checking her legs every few minutes like a paranoid person. Nobody was looking. She checked anyway.