The Secret Under the Clothes
After finishing breakfast, Lu Zhian picked up his backpack and prepared to go to school. Before leaving, he glanced indifferently at Xiao Yuan and Xiao Jin at the table, saying nothing, but the meaning in his eyes was self-evident.
Once the rules are established, they must be followed.
Xiao Yuan nodded silently, picked up his suit jacket and put it on, meticulously concealing any trace that might reveal his emotions, before heading to the company. Xiao Jin pursed his lips, but still obediently agreed.
For Xiao Yuan, a full day of company affairs became an extreme test.
He sat behind his large CEO desk, listening to reports from department heads, signing documents, and issuing instructions. He seemed no different from usual, even more composed and aloof than usual, every word clear and calm, every decision precise and decisive.
Only he knew the torment hidden beneath those expensive suit trousers. The smooth silk restraints, originally intended as a symbolic punishment, were magnified infinitely by the constant, subtle friction between the fabric and silk, and between his skin and the restraints, as he shifted his posture and moved around throughout the day.
Especially when he needs to concentrate on complex matters, that presence becomes even more pronounced, like an endless, slightly stinging reminder that he must maintain restraint.
Occasionally, when no one is watching, he would unconsciously clench his fingers while adjusting his posture or getting up to walk towards the filing cabinet, and then quickly relax them, returning to the impeccable CEO Xiao.
No one in the entire company realized the secret and prolonged torment their president, known for his strong self-control, was enduring.
Unlike Xiao Yuan, who needed to maintain a perfect image in front of others, Xiao Jin's so-called "stroll" at the group was really just a symbolic appearance. After handling a few matters that required his approval, he went straight to his private garage.
His garage was filled with his beloved machines and several sleek sports cars. He had originally intended to distract himself by tinkering with these machines.
However……
Bending over to inspect the chassis, turning the wrench forcefully, squatting down to adjust the engine... every movement that requires exertion makes the constraints even clearer.
The silk material is smooth, but it also lacks elasticity. Under his large movements, it was tightly bound, bringing a kind of torment that mixed pain and strange stimulation.
The deafening roar of the motorcycle engine couldn't drown out the even more turbulent restlessness within his body.
He tugged at his collar in frustration, fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead, whether from the stifling heat of the garage or from the pent-up anger within him, it was hard to tell.
He tried to ignore his physical sensations by focusing more intently on disassembling and assembling the machinery, but found that the harder he worked, the more vivid the sensations became, as if they were everywhere.
An afternoon passed, a certain part of the motorcycle was repeatedly disassembled and reassembled, and the hood of the sports car was opened and closed again, but his mood was more irritable and frustrated than when he arrived.
The restlessness in his body and the desire that had been forcibly suppressed were like a wild beast trapped in a cage, running amok and unable to find a way out.
As the last rays of the setting sun began to paint the sky, Xiao Jin, carrying his pent-up frustration, returned to the villa ahead of schedule.
The restlessness in my body and that distinct feeling of constraint, after a day of fermentation, not only did not lessen, but became even more difficult to ignore due to the idleness and continuous physical friction.
He desperately wanted to see Lu Zhian, as if only by seeing that person and feeling his presence could he alleviate the torment that Lu Zhian had inflicted upon him, yet which was irresistible.
With this mix of resentment, longing, and a desire to please, Xiao Jin went into the kitchen. He remembered that Lu Zhian liked some of the dishes he made; although they weren't as good as those of a professional chef, they were made with care.
He tied on an apron and began to carefully process the ingredients, trying to calm his restless heart with this everyday and down-to-earth approach.
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