After the Gala#

Mara’s day ended in the early morning hours, her body exhausted by the night’s events and the restrictive clothing she had worn. Every step had been a struggle, every smile something carefully balanced against the demands of the dress. The evening had begun with a crisis when Zendaya arrived bare-faced, breaking one of the most visible social rules. Mara had helped manage that, only to watch relief vanish when Zendaya was kidnapped by unknown terrorists. Now, as she prepared for bed, uncertainty about Zendaya’s fate left her deeply unsettled.

Philippe guided her to their suite, steadying her as she took unsteady steps. The stiff ballet boots gave her additional support, and she was grateful for it. The events of the night still weighed heavily on both of them.

When they entered the suite, they found Liliane asleep in a chair, still in uniform. Philippe woke her gently, and together they began removing Mara’s outfit. The headdress came off first, bringing welcome relief from its weight.

Philippe’s phone buzzed with a message. His face softened as he read it.

“Mara,” he said quietly, “Zendaya has been rescued. All four kidnappers have been caught.”

The tension went out of Mara’s body.

Thank God, she signed. Know who they were, or what they wanted?

Philippe shook his head.

“Not yet. They were well-equipped but badly trained. It is still unclear who they were or what they wanted.”

Mara hand-danced her disappointment and unease.

Unsettling think such well-funded group is out there.

“I know,” Philippe said, squeezing her hand. “But for now Zendaya is safe, and the immediate danger is over. We will learn more in time.”

She tried to take comfort from that.

Hope so. This night much more than expected.

Philippe gave her a reassuring smile.

“We will handle it, Mara. Together.”

They continued the careful business of undressing her, removing the stiff layers that had encased her all evening. With each piece that came away, Mara felt both relief and a growing vulnerability. Philippe supported her while Liliane worked each part of the dress free.

Once the outer costume was gone, Philippe and Liliane finished undressing her until only the iGuardian remained. Then Philippe dismissed Liliane with the dismantled dress and wished her good night.

Without the elaborate outfit, the iGuardian left Mara feeling exposed. Philippe slipped a pair of high heels onto her feet. After years in ballet heels, flat shoes were out of the question. The height felt almost comfortable by comparison.

He led her into the bathroom for a quick wash. The iGuardian handled most of the process, but Philippe washed the exposed skin with his own hands, gentle and careful. The warmth of the water and the steadiness of his touch eased some of the tension from her body. He removed her mask so she could brush her teeth, then guided her to the bed.

As always, he had her kneel beside it so he could do her hair. He undid the bun, loosened the braids, and gave it only the care it truly needed, sensing how exhausted she was. His fingers moved through it with practiced skill, lulling Mara toward sleep. She was almost gone by the time he relaxed the collar, braces, and corset of the iGuardian, lifted her into bed, and cuffed her hands in front of her, making sure she was secure without being uncomfortable.

Mara barely noticed when Philippe settled against her from behind, his warm body a comfort against the hard titanium line of the iGuardian. His presence kept the nightmares of the kidnapping at bay. Instead she dreamed only of the evening’s successes, safe in the knowledge that Philippe would protect her.

She woke again before dawn, the room still dark. The only sound was Philippe’s quiet breathing behind her. She felt the firm embrace of the iGuardian, the elevation of her feet in heels, and the restriction of the cuffs. Even so, she felt vulnerable. Her legs were bare, her arms were ungloved, her mouth was empty, and her face was uncovered. That exposure unsettled her.

As she stirred, Philippe woke, sensing the discomfort in her body. He shifted closer in silent comfort. Mara took a breath and spoke softly.

“Sir, may I please have my mask?”

Her voice, almost unused over the last three years, came out hoarse. She hated speaking, preferring the elegance and precision of hand-dancing, but with her hands cuffed she had no other way to communicate.

“I feel insecure without it.”

Philippe understood immediately.

“Of course, Mara,” he said gently.

He reached to the nightstand, picked up her Jurenmuse, and turned back to her. He placed the gag into her mouth and locked the mask to her collar. The snug fit and enclosing pressure around her face made her feel safer at once.

“Thank you, Sir,” Mara tried to say, but only a pleased muffled sound escaped.

Philippe smiled and caressed her shoulder.

“You are welcome, Mara. Better now?”

Mara cuddled back against him as much as the stiff iGuardian allowed, deeply relieved. The warmth of his body and the security of the mask let her relax again.

She drifted back into sleep, her mind at ease. The protective iGuardian and Philippe’s presence let her surrender to the darkness feeling safe, loved, and cared for.

The next morning, Philippe guided her through the usual cleaning and dressing routine with patient care. He helped her into stockings and gloves, checking that every seam lay straight. After fastening a high-collared blouse and hobble skirt around her, he dressed her in another Victorian bustle gown.

“Ready, Mara?” Philippe asked softly, checking the fit one last time.

Yes, Sir, she signed.

Philippe activated her iGuardian’s guidance, and it sent her down to the breakfast room. She stood waiting at the entrance in line with other women waiting for their guardians. When Philippe arrived, he led her to his table and locked her into her chair.

A maid in hotel livery, her name plate reading Iris, responded to Philippe’s signal. She attached a feed bag to the port on Mara’s mask and began serving Philippe his breakfast. Mara felt the feed gag expand in her mouth, the nutrient liquid spurting down her throat in familiar measured pulses. Her swallowing was automatic by now, drilled into her by years of repetition.

A few minutes later, Sonia and Henry entered. Henry, elegant in a stylish suit, waved to Philippe, who motioned them over.

“Good morning, Philippe,” Henry said. “Good morning, Mara.”

“Good morning, Henry. Sonia,” Philippe replied.

Henry locked Sonia into the chair opposite Mara so the two women could see each other. Sonia’s dress was equally elaborate, though closer-fitting: a blouse buttoned in the back and a floor-length mermaid skirt. For breakfast she wore a niqab that allowed her to eat rather than a mask. As soon as she was secured, her eyes met Mara’s, and they began signing at once.

Heard about Zendaya? Sonia signed, concern clear in her face.

Mara nodded.

Yes. Philippe told me this morning. She was rescued, and all four kidnappers were caught.

Henry leaned toward Philippe.

“What do we know about them?”

Philippe shook his head.

“Very little so far. They were well-equipped but badly trained. We do not know their motives yet. It is unsettling.”

Sonia signed quickly, concern tightening her eyes.

Poor Zendaya. Know how she is?

“Safe, and apparently unharmed,” Philippe assured her. “She is being cared for and should return soon.”

Relief passed between the two women at once.

Thank goodness she is safe. Last night terrifying, Mara signed.

Henry nodded.

“We will need to stay vigilant. If one group was willing to go that far, there may be others.”

Philippe agreed.

“Absolutely. We must protect everyone and be prepared for future threats.”

Sonia, sensing how heavy the mood had become, shifted the conversation with a trace of a smile in her signing.

See Zendaya’s outfit last night? Despite everything, transformation fascinating. From scandalously bare-faced woman to increasingly robot-like figure, all while still incorporating nature. Quite spectacle.

Mara nodded.

Yes, intriguing. Outfit became increasingly strict and mechanical. Amazing how fashion can express those contrasts. Also reminded me how important flexibility and muscle strength remain when wearing something as restrictive as robot suit, or my iGuardian.

Sonia’s eyes lit up.

Exactly. Strictness of our dress demands different fitness. Reminded me of Julien Moreau’s Anna. Before Change she ran. Now she stays fit with pony training. Rigorous, but effective.

Mara’s interest sharpened.

Pony training? Heard of it, but never saw practice. How work for her?

Sonia signed with real enthusiasm.

Fascinating. Anna wears special suit that restricts her and has guide bit like pony. She is put before sulky, and Julien guides her through endurance course. Combination of physical training and discipline.

Mara nodded thoughtfully.

Sounds challenging and intriguing. Would like learn more. Maybe arrange visit?

Sonia’s hands moved eagerly.

Sure Anna happy show you. She adapted well and enjoys training now.

The conversation flowed easily, their hands saying what voices did not. Henry and Philippe watched them with quiet approval.

Philippe turned to Henry.

“It is good to see them connecting. They have much to share. Pony training sounds interesting. Mara could use more strength work. She focuses so much on mobility at the moment.”

Henry nodded warmly.

“It is demanding. It began as a discipline program for problematic women, meant to build obedience and submission and keep them physically exhausted. But many well-adjusted women do it now for fitness.”

Philippe and Henry agreed that they would look into the practice for their wards soon.