Page 5

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow across the room.

Olivia woke with a start, the events of the previous day flooding back to her.

She lay still for a moment, her body aching from the punishments, the silver collar a constant reminder of her new reality.

Today was a dance practice day, and she dreaded the thought of facing her team under Jessica's new rules.

Gathering her courage, Olivia got out of bed and made her way to Jessica's apartment, her heart pounding with anxiety. She knocked on the door, her hands trembling slightly. Jessica opened it, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp.

"Mistress," Olivia began hesitantly, "I have dance practice today. I need to go, but... I don't know what to wear."

Jessica raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Oh, you need to go, do you? Well, you have two choices: dress appropriately as you now must, or quit the team. It's your decision, Olivia."

Olivia's heart sank, but she nodded, her resolve hardening. "I'll go dressed properly, Mistress."

"Good," Jessica said, her smile widening. "First, you'll do your makeup. Let's see if you've learned anything from yesterday."

Olivia sat at the vanity, her hands steadier this time as she applied the foundation, blended the eyeshadow, and carefully lined her eyes.

She worked meticulously, recalling Jessica's instructions. When she finished, she glanced at her reflection, surprised by the decent job she had done. The face staring back at her was more polished, more feminine than she had ever seen herself.

Jessica inspected her work, nodding approvingly. "Not bad, Olivia. You're getting better. Now, let's pick out your outfit."

Jessica led her to the closet and pulled out a set of athleisure wear—tight leggings and a fitted top that would allow ease of movement for dance practice. Olivia took the clothes, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination. She changed quickly, the snug fabric accentuating her form.

"We'll go shopping later. You're in desperate need of actual clothes."

Olivia nodded, swallowing her nerves as she prepared to face her team.

The walk to the dance studio felt interminable, her heart pounding with every step.

She could feel the stares of passersby, their curious glances burning into her skin.

By the time she reached the studio, she was a bundle of nerves.

This was her home, her sanctuary. She was far from the best dancer, but she'd been dancing since...forever. Urban movement, ballet, salsa, everything––but her height, his stature, she'd fallen out of male roles as she'd grown up. Maybe this would be something new, or something.

The team was already warming up when she entered, and the room fell silent as they turned to look at her. Olivia took a deep breath, standing tall despite the weight of their gazes. She walked to her spot, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

The dance studio was filled with the familiar hum of warming up bodies and the rhythmic beats of the music pulsing through the speakers.

Olivia found her place at the barre, her hands gripping the cool metal as she began her stretches.

The tight leggings and fitted top accentuated her movements, and she couldn't help but feel every eye in the room on her. The initial embarrassment was intense, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand, determined not to let her nerves show.

"Hey, Oliver," Ian, one of her teammates, said hesitantly. "New look today."

She paused. "Can we go with Olivia, from here on out?

She expected mortification, laughter, embarrassment, but there were only nods, and a few smiles. Ian smiled, saying, "Of course."

During a break, Olivia found herself stretching alongside Ian, the team's star performer. Ian was the pinnacle of masculinity—tall, with a body sculpted by years of rigorous training. His muscles rippled with every movement, and his long, dark black hair, tousled and wild, framed his chiseled face perfectly. His sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes could have made him a model, but his true passion lay in ballet and aerial arts. He was a master, the one to lift any of the multitude of beautiful women in any number, to support and catch and add to any performance.

He was captivating, in every way. And he was everything Oliver had wished to be. He'd made him question everything about his sexuality since the day he joined the team.

There were at least a dozen beautiful women on the team, ones Oliver had fantasized about on occasion. And now, here she was, a cruel mockery of them.

"You're doing great, Olivia," Ian said, his voice deep and smooth, offering her a warm smile. There was no hint of malignance or mockery in his words. "That outfit suits you."

"Thanks," Olivia replied, her voice shy but grateful. Something in his voice, the normalcy, from Ian quieted her frazzled nerves. The practice resumed, and Olivia felt a renewed determination to prove herself, not just to Jessica, but to Ian and the rest of her team as well.

Olivia lost herself in the flow of the routine.

The music's beat guided her movements, each step and stretch syncing perfectly with the rhythm. She could feel the fabric of her outfit moving with her, hugging her body in a way that was both entirely new, constricting and liberating in one. The discomfort of the stolen glances began to fade as she immersed herself in the dance, her body moving with a grace and fluidity that surprised even her.

The practice moved into more complex choreography, the team working together to perfect their routine for their next performance.

Olivia's muscles burned with the effort, but the pain was a welcome distraction from the lingering anxiety. She focused on the precise movements, the spins, and the jumps, her mind and body becoming one with the dance.

The final part of the practice was a full run-through of the routine.

The music blared, the beat thundering through the room as they moved in perfect synchrony.

Olivia's breath came in sharp bursts, her body a whirl of motion and energy. She felt the eyes of her teammates on her, but this time, it wasn't with judgment or curiosity—it was with respect.

As the routine came to an end, the studio echoed with the sound of their heavy breathing and the satisfaction of a job well done.

Olivia stood there, her chest heaving, a smile tugging at her lips.