Chase watched helplessly as Delaney's imposing form receded towards the front door, her steps confident and untroubled. The door closed with a definitive click, sealing him inside the quiet house. Alone now, the silence of the room seemed to amplify the stark reality of his captivity. The bars of the hamster cage felt cold and unyielding— a tangible reminder of his confinement and degradation.

With a heavy heart, Chase turned his attention to the frilly maid outfit lying beside him. The outfit, a symbol of his servitude and humiliation, was finely detailed with lace and ribbons, mocking him with its daintiness. Slowly, with trembling hands, he picked it up. The fabric felt soft and alien against his skin, a stark contrast to the harsh metal of his cage.

As Chase began to dress, the process was not only a physical struggle against the sting of his burns and the ache of his bruises but also a profound battle with his own sense of disgust. The tiny maid outfit, designed to demean and belittle, clung uncomfortably to his skin. The skirt was embarrassingly short, barely covering him, and every delicate ruffle felt like a deliberate mockery of his former self, each flutter a sharp jab at his pride.

With trembling hands, he adjusted the apron, tying it at the back. Each pull of the strings tightened not just the fabric but also the noose of humiliation around his neck. A lump formed in his throat as he realized just how complete his degradation was. This was no mere outfit; it was a symbol of his complete subjugation, a tool to reduce him to a caricature of subservience at Delaney’s sadistic whim.

Standing back to look at himself in the kitchen mirror, Chase could hardly recognize the figure staring back at him. The reflection showed a grown man, reduced to wearing a frilly, demeaning costume, his new 'uniform' for a life of servitude. He was not just confined physically in a cage meant for a small animal; he was trapped in a role that stripped him of all dignity and autonomy.

The sight was overwhelmingly humiliating. As Chase observed his new appearance in the mirror, the reality of his situation hit him like a tidal wave. Each piece of the outfit—a lace here, a ribbon there—seemed to erase more of his old identity, layering on Delaney's cruel design for him. He wasn't just dressed in a frilly maid outfit; he was being stripped of his humanity, reduced to an object, a plaything meant to amuse his captor.

The realization was too much to bear. The weight of his degradation settled deep into his bones, a constant, aching reminder of how far he had fallen from the person he used to be. The tears that had been welling up finally spilled over, and he broke down into uncontrollable sobbing. His body shook with the force of his cries, each sob a painful reminder of his new reality.

The humiliation was unbearable, knowing that this was his life now. Every lace and ribbon on the demeaning outfit was a symbol of his submission, his helplessness. The profound sorrow and despair overwhelmed him as he thought about the future— a future filled with endless torment and degradation at the hands of Delaney. The thought of her cruel, sadistic enjoyment of his suffering only made his sobs grow louder. He felt utterly defeated, his spirit crushed under the weight of his new, horrifying existence.

Chase's tears eventually slowed, leaving him with a hollow emptiness as he sat caged and dressed in his degrading outfit. His mind wandered to images of Delaney out with her friends, laughing and enjoying herself, completely unaffected by the cruelty she had inflicted upon him. The contrast between her freedom and his confinement deepened his humiliation, highlighting just how powerless he had become.

The thought of Delaney casually sipping coffee or shopping, sharing jokes with friends while he sat imprisoned in a cage in a maid's outfit, was unbearable. It underscored the absolute control she had over his life—how she could inflict such torment and then simply walk away to enjoy her day. This realization made him feel even smaller, even more insignificant.

Chase felt a bitter, gnawing anger mixed with his despair. He was nothing more than an afterthought, a toy to be played with and then left aside while his captor led a normal, happy life. The disparity in their situations was a sharp sting to his pride and a dark cloud over his sense of self.

As Chase sat there, the silence of the room was only occasionally broken by the faint sounds of normal life carrying on outside—a stark contrast to the stagnation of his own situation. With each passing minute, the weight of his humiliation and powerlessness grew more oppressive. He was ensnared in a relentless cycle of degradation, entirely at the mercy of Delaney's whims, unable to predict or control the forms of humiliation that awaited him. This realization gnawed at him, the helplessness of his position seeping deep into his bones, a constant, oppressive reminder that sapped his spirit.

Thirty minutes slowly ticked by, each second stretching longer than the last in the absolute boredom and isolation of the cage. The monotony was suffocating. Eventually, overcome by the unrelenting stillness and the mental exhaustion from his emotional turmoil, Chase's eyes grew heavy. Unable to stay awake any longer in the face of such numbing boredom and despair, he finally passed out, slumping against the cold, unforgiving bars of his cage.

Chase jolted awake, his breath catching in his throat as the remnants of a nightmare still clung to his consciousness. For a fleeting moment, enveloped in pitch-black darkness, he was disoriented, his mind briefly tricking him into the comforting illusion that he was waking up in bed next to his wife. The utter absence of light and the silence around him allowed the fantasy to take hold momentarily, giving him the false sense of normalcy and warmth.

As he lay there, his heart racing wildly, he reached out instinctively for the familiar touch of his wife beside him, seeking reassurance in the darkness. But instead of soft sheets and the comforting presence of another human, his hands met the cold, hard bars of the cage. The harsh reality crashed down on him as he remembered where he was and why he was there. The darkness wasn't just the absence of light; it was a symbol of his entrapment and isolation, a stark contrast to the life he once knew.

As Chase's breathing steadied, the comforting blanket of darkness quickly gave way to the oppressive weight of his harsh reality. Initially, the physical discomforts became apparent—the unforgiving hardness of the floor beneath him and the irritating scratch of the maid outfit against his sensitive skin. But soon, the deeper, more torturous mental anguish set in as memories of the day’s brutal events cascaded through his mind with ruthless clarity.

He recalled the sting of the branding iron, Delaney’s cruel laughter echoing in his ears, and the profound helplessness that had sunk deep into his bones. These vivid memories crystalized one by one, shattering the brief peace of his disorientation and plunging him into a profound despair. Chase was starkly reminded that he wasn’t merely in a darkened room but was confined within a cage, humiliatingly attired, and utterly forsaken while Delaney presumably reveled in her freedom.

The stark dichotomy between the fleeting dreams of freedom that had momentarily danced through his mind while asleep and the grim reality of his enduring captivity struck him with devastating force. Realizing that this cramped cage and the relentless humiliation were now his permanent reality sent waves of fresh horror coursing through him.

The subtle click of the lock releasing shattered the oppressive silence, quickly followed by the door swinging open with an ominous creak. Chase's heart thundered in his chest, each thud resonating in his ears like a warning bell, heralding the return of the colossal figure who now dictated his every waking moment. Without a doubt, it was Delaney—the giant bitch who had claimed ownership of his life. The knowledge filled him with a dread so deep it was almost palpable, mixed with a begrudging acceptance of his fate to obey her every cruel whim.

Automatically, Chase dropped into a bow, the action ingrained deeply through Delaney's harsh conditioning. As his forehead made contact with the cold, hard floor of the cage, a piercing pain lanced through the freshly branded 'D' on his skin. This pain was more than physical; it was a brutal reminder of his permanent mark of ownership, a symbol of his utter subservience etched directly into his flesh. The intense stinging sensation was sharp enough to draw a grimace of agony across his face. Despite the discomfort, Chase maintained his position rigidly, his body tensed in fearful anticipation.

The sound of her footsteps approached, each one echoing ominously through the silent room like the foreboding beats of a war drum. With every step closer, Chase's body tensed further, his muscles tightening in anticipation of the oppressive presence that would soon overshadow him. The looming specter of Delaney filled his thoughts with dread, casting a shadow even before she physically appeared in the doorway.

Chase's breathing became shallow and labored, each breath a concerted effort as anxiety clenched his chest tight. The air felt thick, and every inhale was laden with the weight of impending doom. He knew all too well the kind of torment that might follow her entrance, each possible scenario flashing through his mind like a series of nightmarish vignettes. Fear gripped him, a visceral, clawing thing that made his stomach churn and his heart race uncontrollably.

As Delaney rounded the corner and caught sight of Chase bowed low in his frilly maid outfit, her reaction was immediate and filled with scornful delight. A cruel, mocking laugh erupted from her, echoing sharply around the room. "Well, well, look at my pretty little maid, all dolled up and pathetic as hell!" she jeered, her voice oozing mockery and disdain. "Did you miss me while you were playing dress-up?" she taunted, her laughter growing louder as she savored the humiliation she had so meticulously crafted for him. "You look absolutely ridiculous, just how I like you!" Her words were like daggers, each one designed to cut deep, reveling in the discomfort and shame they wrought on Chase.

As Chase heard Delaney's cruel laughter and felt a deep sting of humiliation that cut deeper than any physical pain, he instinctively began to rise, hoping perhaps to lessen his embarrassment by standing to face her. However, Delaney's sharp voice cut through the air, halting him in his tracks. "Where do you think you're going?" she snapped viciously, her tone icy and commanding. "Get back down now!" Her words were laced with venom as she added, "Stay in your fucking bow and don't even think about standing until I give you permission, you pathetic little bitch!"

Instead of complying with Delaney's harsh command, something inside Chase snapped. The weight of her authority, once crushing, suddenly felt like a challenge he couldn't ignore any longer. With a surge of defiance, he straightened up, standing as tall as his six-inch stature would allow. He locked eyes with Delaney, who towered over him like a giantess, her face twisted into a smirk of sadistic pleasure.

"No," Chase said, his voice steady despite the tremor of anger and fear that coursed through him. "Fuck off."

As he faced her, the reality of his action began to sink in. He was standing up to Delaney, the same cruel, bitchy sister-in-law he had always known, only now she wielded near-total power over him. Yet, in this moment, he saw her not just as the towering figure of authority she had become but as the same vindictive person he had resisted before his life had been turned upside down.

Delaney's face contorted with rage at Chase's defiance, her eyes narrowing into slits of pure fury. "You just made the biggest fucking mistake of your life," she hissed, her voice seething with anger as she reached to unlatch the cage. The metallic clang of the latch opening echoed ominously in the room, a stark reminder of her physical power over him.

Chase's brief surge of defiance evaporated in an instant, replaced by a cold dread as he watched her hands move with purposeful anger. Realizing the grave error he had made, he quickly dropped back into a bow, his body shaking as he repeatedly muttered, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I'm so sorry," each apology more frantic than the last.

Delaney sneered, pulling open the cage door with a violent jerk. "Sorry doesn't cut it, you little shit," she snapped, her voice dripping with contempt. "You think you can talk back to me? To your owner? You're about to learn what happens when you forget your place." Her hand reached in, grabbing him with a grip that promised nothing but pain.

"As if I'd let your pathetic little outburst slide," Delaney continued, her tone harsh and unforgiving as she yanked him out of the cage. "You’re going to regret ever thinking you could stand up to me. I'm going to make sure this lesson sticks, and trust me, you won't be standing much after I'm done with you."

As Delaney's grip tightened mercilessly, Chase's gaze was locked into her vast, sadistic eyes, which flickered with a disturbing glee at his evident agony. The pressure from her unyielding fingers was unbearable, each squeeze crushing against his fragile ribs, compressing his chest and wrenching painful gasps of air from his lungs. His screams of agony burst forth, raw and piercing, reverberating through the room like a chilling soundtrack to his torment. The sound seemed to ignite a deeper cruelty within Delaney, her eyes sparkling more intensely with each pained shriek, clearly reveling in the control and suffering she was inflicting.

Her hold on him felt like an iron vise, implacable and punishing, each adjustment of her fingers exploring new thresholds of pain. Chase's body contorted in desperation under the relentless pressure, every nerve screaming in distress as he tried futilely to squirm away from the source of his pain. The echo of his own screams within the room underscored the severity of his situation, each cry amplifying Delaney's sadistic satisfaction, her grin broadening as she soaked in the sounds of his suffering.

The more Chase screamed, the brighter the twisted joy in Delaney's eyes shone. "Yeah, scream for me," she taunted, her voice dripping with malice. "Let's hear how much you fucking regret standing up to me." She squeezed harder, not to alleviate his pain but to explore the limits of his agony, each cruel twist of her fingers sending shockwaves of pain through his frail body.

Chase's body contorted in her merciless grip, his every movement a desperate but futile attempt to alleviate the intense pain. His screams, sharp and piercing, filled the room, underscoring the depth of his suffering. Delaney leaned in close, her face mere inches from his, her hot breath brushing against his face as she hissed, "This is just the start. I want you to remember this fucking pain every time you even think about crossing me again."

Her words were a venomous whisper, meant to instill a deep, lasting fear, reminding him of his utter helplessness and her complete control over his existence.

Delaney's grip was unyielding and cruel as she marched Chase over to a large mirror, her fingers digging into his delicate frame with painful precision. Each step she took seemed to amplify the discomfort, as her hold adjusted with her movement, causing sharp stabs of pain that made Chase wince and struggle weakly against the iron clutch.

Upon reaching the mirror, she forcefully turned him to face his reflection, maneuvering him as if he were nothing more than a doll. She held him aloft, positioning his body to ensure he had a clear, unavoidable view of the seared 'D' branding his forehead. His arm was twisted awkwardly behind him, exacerbating the soreness of his muscles and joints, while her fingers pressed into his ribs, threatening to crush them with the slightest increase in pressure.

Look at yourself," she commanded, her voice dripping with contempt. "See that brand? That 'D' on your forehead? It means you’re nothing more than property. My property. You’re branded like fucking cattle, marked so everyone knows who you belong to."

She leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear as she continued her cruel tirade. "And let me make one thing crystal clear, you pathetic little shit: if you ever even think about standing up to me again, I might just squeeze these little ribs of yours," she squeezed harder for emphasis, making him wince in pain, "until they snap. I could kill you, and I wouldn’t even blink. And the funniest part?" She chuckled darkly, her voice cold and menacing. "I can legally do it. You’re not human anymore, not in the eyes of the law. You’re just a thing, and I can do whatever I want with my things."

Delaney paused, ensuring Chase was absorbing every word, her face a mask of sadistic pleasure. "So next time you feel like being brave, remember this moment. Remember that I can end you, and there’d be no consequences for me. You’re mine, completely and utterly, and don’t you ever fucking forget it."

Her reflection in the mirror, towering over him with a look of utter domination, reinforced her words, driving home the reality of his complete and total subjugation.

As Delaney released him slightly, easing the immediate pressure but still maintaining a firm hold, Chase caught his breath, each inhale sharp and filled with pain. As he stared at his reflection, branded and broken, he couldn't help but think about the sheer madness and cruelty of the woman who now owned him. Her sadistic enjoyment of his suffering was palpable, and it chilled him to the core.

Internally, he acknowledged the stark reality: he needed to obey her, fully and without hesitation. The risk of inciting her wrath was too great, the potential consequences too severe. Yet, as he contemplated her threats and the intense pain still echoing through his body, a part of him clung to a sliver of understanding about her motives. Delaney thrived on control, on the power she wielded over him, particularly because of their past relationship as in-laws. The dynamics of their previous interactions added a layer of personal satisfaction to her cruelty—one that she would not easily relinquish.

Chase realized that, in a twisted way, his survival was assured by her desire to keep him in this diminished, subservient role. She wouldn’t kill him; to do so would be to lose the unique power she held over him, the complex interplay of past familial tensions and present dominance. This realization didn’t comfort him, but it did offer a slight recalibration of his understanding of their twisted relationship. He was invaluable to her not despite his identity and their history, but because of it.

As Chase grappled with his new understanding, Delaney tightened her grip once more, the pressure causing sharp spikes of pain to shoot through his body. "I'm waiting for an answer, you little shit," she hissed, her voice cold and impatient. "You need to learn not to keep me waiting. Respond now!"

Overwhelmed by pain, Chase couldn't hold back a scream as her fingers constricted even tighter. Gasping for air and struggling to form words, he finally managed to yell out between labored breaths, "Yes, Goddess! It will never happen again. I live to serve you!"

At his declaration, a malicious smirk spread across Delaney's face. "That's more like it," she said, satisfaction dripping from her words as she slightly relaxed her grip. Her eyes gleamed with a dark pleasure, enjoying not just his physical pain but the power she felt in forcing him to verbally affirm his submission.

Delaney strode confidently into the living room, her grip on Chase unyielding as she effortlessly carried him across the room. With a casual flick of her wrist, she released him, sending him tumbling through the air to land with a distinct thud on the coffee table. The impact was jarring; the hard surface of the table met his body with unforgiving solidity, sending waves of pain rippling through him as he tried to catch his breath. Before he could fully recover or reorient himself, Delaney had already sauntered over to the couch, sinking into its cushions with a relaxed sigh, completely indifferent to the discomfort she had just inflicted on him. Her ease and command contrasted sharply with his disheveled and pained state, highlighting the disparity in their power and status.

Delaney looked down at him, her smile sharp and dripping with condescension. She cocked her head, her eyes glittering with a mix of amusement and barely concealed disdain. "Why don't you ask me about my day?" she taunted, her voice thick with mockery. "I mean, it's not like you've done anything worthwhile stuck in this cage, right? Let me give you a little glimpse of the real world, maybe brighten up your pathetic little existence by sharing what I've been up to."

Her tone was bratty and distinctly bitchy, clearly reveling in not only the power to dictate his actions but also to flaunt her freedom and experiences as a form of psychological torment. Chase, fully aware of the power dynamics at play and the futility of resistance, paused only a moment before responding, his voice tinged with a forced deference that belied his inner turmoil.

"How was your day, Goddess?" he asked, his voice carrying a mixture of resignation and forced interest. The question, while simple, was loaded with the implicit acknowledgment of his own powerless state and her control over even the smallest details of his life.

Delaney's eyes gleamed with a menacing delight as she envisioned her cruel plans. "Just picture it," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Videos of you, my little puppet, scurrying around in that laughable maid outfit, maybe even some live sessions for the whole world to see you break as I come up with new, exquisite ways to fuck with you. It's going to be so goddamn entertaining," she sneered, her satisfaction palpable as she reveled in her own sadism. "And the best part? I'm going to rake in cash by broadcasting just how pitiful you really are. Perfect, isn't it?"

Her laughter, cold and mocking, echoed through the room, a sound that chilled to the bone as she delighted in the distress her words caused Chase. "Who wouldn't pay to see a grown man reduced to absolute shit, groveling at my feet? You're going to be a star, sweetheart—a fucking spectacle on the sickest show on the internet," she taunted, her tone laced with derision and a twisted joy at his impending humiliation.

Delaney pulled her phone out with a flourish, tapping the screen to wake it up as she grinned maliciously at Chase. "Alright, it's showtime," she declared, her voice thick with cruel anticipation. "We're going to film our very first video for the channel right now—an intro to what everyone can expect. I'll start off, give a little spiel to the camera, then I'll flip it around to you, and you’re going to tell the world just how fucking miserable you are."

She laughed heartily, clearly amused by her own plot. "The best part? You won’t even need to act, will you? It’s just perfect. Just be your pathetic, miserable self."

Delaney’s smile widened as she twisted the knife further, "And guess what? I’ll make sure all your old friends and coworkers get a special invite to subscribe. They’ll get front row seats to watch you grovel and squirm at my feet." Her laughter was sharp and mocking, echoing around the room as she savored the humiliation she was about to broadcast.

She positioned her phone, ensuring the camera angle was just right, her movements precise and practiced. "This is going to be gold. Imagine their faces when they see what’s become of you—their once proud colleague now nothing more than a whimpering slave."

Delaney adjusted her phone meticulously, her eyes gleaming with malicious glee as she prepared to capture the moment. She glanced back at Chase, a sinister smile playing across her lips. "Ready to become a star?" she taunted. Her finger lingered over the record button, poised to start filming the humiliating introduction. "Think about it, if this really blows up, I could be making money just for torturing you. I won't even need to leave you in the cage while I go to work. Making your life hell could become my full-time job."

Her laughter filled the room, cruel and mocking, as she reveled in the thought of profiting from his misery. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we? Let’s make sure everyone sees just how low you've sunk." She then pressed the record button, beginning the session that would immortalize Chase's degradation for a potentially vast audience, turning his torment into her lucrative spectacle.

Delaney's face lit up with unbridled excitement as she faced the camera, her demeanor switching to that of a charismatic host. "Hi everyone, I'm Delaney, and welcome to my brand new channel! Now, I've never really thought about owning a 'shrinkee' before—it just wasn’t my thing. But then, as if gifted by the gods, I stumbled upon something incredible on the site. Guess what? It was my sister's absolute piece of shit husband, Chase!" She threw her head back with a loud, mocking laugh, her joy at the situation evident.

She leaned closer to the camera, her eyes sparkling with malice. "I snatched up the opportunity, and now, here we are! I’m starting this channel because I want women around the world to feel empowered by what I’m about to do. It’s more than just personal—it’s a spectacle, a statement!" Her voice was filled with enthusiasm, but a sharp, cruel undertone was unmistakable.

Delaney smirked wickedly at the camera, her tone dripping with a cruel delight as she gestured dismissively towards Chase. "Each episode is going to be a real treat, showing you all how I've completely broken Chase here, transforming him into the perfect little slave. And let's be real—it’s not just about the humiliation, though that’s a big part of the fun," she said, her voice sharp and gleeful.

She leaned closer to the camera, her expression intense and slightly malicious. "I want everyone to see the process, how I take control and exert power. I want you to see the joy it brings me to break him down, to watch him lose all hope and accept his fate," she continued, her laughter now darker, more sinister. "It’s about empowering you to realize that with the right approach, you too can turn a despised individual into an obedient, submissive pet."

Her eyes gleamed with a sadistic pleasure as she imagined her audience relishing Chase’s downfall as much as she did. "So stick around, watch how a real bitch handles her business and maybe learn a thing or two about breaking and remaking someone into your ideal slave," Delaney concluded with a cruel smile, clearly reveling in the power and control she wielded.

As Delaney smoothly flipped the camera to focus on Chase, his sense of exposure intensified, feeling as if countless eyes were suddenly scrutinizing every detail of his diminutive form. Delaney’s voice, filled with cruel glee, continued to narrate over the scene, enhancing his humiliation.

"And here’s the star of our show," she declared, her tone taunting as the camera zoomed in on Chase, capturing his visible distress. "See this brand on his forehead? I made sure to mark him permanently, so he always remembers he’s nothing more than my property. This, ladies and gents, is literally a dream come true for me."

As Chase's eyes began to water from embarrassment and helplessness, Delaney pointed out his outfit, her voice thick with mockery. "And look at this adorable maid outfit he’s wearing. Isn’t it just perfect? I’ll be dressing him up in all sorts of embarrassing, girly outfits just to humiliate him. Because why? Because I can, and because it’s just so much fun to watch him squirm."

She laughed heartily, her enjoyment of his discomfort palpable. "So, everyone watching, get used to seeing Chase like this. Degraded, dressed up, and completely under my thumb. It’s going to be quite the ride, and you’ll get to see it all unfold right here," she concluded, reveling in the power she held to broadcast his humiliation to a potentially vast audience.

As Delaney wrapped up her introductory remarks with a flourish, she shifted the camera’s focus directly onto Chase, her expression twisting into a wicked grin as she announced, "Now let's hear from the star of the show himself." She paused, the silence hanging heavy as she awaited his response. But under the sudden spotlight and crushing pressure, Chase found himself completely speechless. Panic surged through him, his mind a blank slate of fear and confusion.

Observing his paralysis, impatience quickly marred Delaney's features. Her voice, previously smug and controlled, now snapped through the air like a whip. "Speak now, you little shit!" she commanded sharply, the edge in her voice slicing through the tense air. The harshness of her rebuke was enough to break the dam of emotions within Chase. Tears, previously held at bay, now streamed down his face as his body began to shake uncontrollably with fear. Each breath he took was shaky and labored, reflecting the overwhelming terror that gripped him under the weight of her gaze and the unforgiving eye of the camera.

Struggling to form words, Chase's voice quivered as he managed a shaky introduction. "Hi... I-I'm Chase," he stammered, his eyes darting nervously as he tried to hold back tears. "And as of today, I belong to Delaney..." His voice dwindled into a whisper, drowned out by the pounding fear and deep humiliation coursing through him.

Delaney, sensing his falter and eager to reinforce her control, snapped aggressively. "Who do you belong to?" she demanded, her voice booming and authoritative, each word laced with an implicit threat.

Chase's heart raced, and his voice cracked as he hurriedly corrected himself, the fear evident in his trembling words. "I... I belong to Goddess..." he stuttered, his volume barely audible, a stark contrast to the bold assertion Delaney expected.

Delaney's laughter filled the room, sharp and derisive. She revelled in his discomfort, her delight in his submission palpable as she kept the camera trained on him. "That's better. Always remember that, Chase," she taunted, her voice cruel and enjoying every moment of his struggle. "Tell everyone watching how you feel about belonging to your Goddess."

Delaney’s eyes glinted with a new idea, her sadistic creativity never ceasing. "Actually, let's show everyone how quickly I've broken you," she said with a wicked smirk, her tone gleeful as she reveled in her power. Turning back to Chase, she commanded, "Tell the camera what you want to do more than anything right now." Her laughter was mocking, filling the space with her disdain.

Chase hesitated, his mind racing to find the answer that Delaney wanted, the answer that might please her and potentially lessen his suffering. Swallowing hard, he stuttered out his response, his voice barely above a whisper, "I... I want to rub Goddess’s feet for her."

Delaney burst into uproarious laughter, delighted by his submission and the ease with which she could manipulate him. Satisfied with his answer, she turned the camera back to herself, her face beaming with triumph. "There you have it, folks," she announced cheerfully to her audience. "Not even a full day into his new life and he’s already begging to serve me. This is just a taste of what’s to come."

She winked at the camera, her demeanor confident and in control. "Stay tuned because this is only the beginning," she continued, her voice filled with promise and threat. "Subscribe to the channel if you want to see just how miserable I can make Chase's life. Trust me, you won't want to miss the fun we're going to have."

With that, Delaney ended the video, her laughter still echoing in the room as she looked down at Chase, her expression one of absolute authority, already planning her next steps in what was sure to be a relentless campaign of domination and degradation.

Delaney's satisfaction was palpable as she glanced down at Chase, her expression a mix of approval and anticipation. "That was perfect," she commended, her voice tinged with a cruel kind of pride. "I think we're really onto something here. If we can get this to go viral, it'll be a hit." Her laughter echoed through the room, a sound that seemed to underline Chase's misery and despair.

Delaney nonchalantly propped her feet up on the coffee table, directly in front of Chase. Her size 9 soles loomed large in front of his diminutive 6-inch frame, presenting a daunting task given their vast proportion to his tiny stature. The feet before him, massive and overwhelming, stretched out casually as if Delaney were merely settling in for a leisurely evening. Her soles, slightly arched and distinctly defined, bore the marks of someone who was always on the move—powerful, yet with a softness that belied their strength.

"Well, you can get started on that foot rub you wanted so badly," she said, her voice dripping with a dismissive expectancy that underscored her complete control over the situation. As she casually flicked out her phone from her pocket, she continued, "I'm going to upload the video to YouTube and blast it out everywhere I can to drive some traffic to our new channel. This is going to be fun." Her words were light, almost conversational, but to Chase, they carried the weight of a thousand bricks, each one a reminder of his helplessness and her sheer domination.

Chase approached Delaney's outstretched feet with a mixture of dread and resignation. His tiny hands trembled slightly as he reached out to touch the expansive surface of her size 9 soles. The slight musk of her feet hit him—a potent mixture of her day’s activities, not unpleasant but overwhelmingly strong given his proximity and size. It was a stark reminder of his new reality, one where even the act of breathing brought him into closer contact with his servitude.

He began massaging, starting from the heels, working his way up through the arches to the balls of her feet, and finally to each toe. His fingers pressed into the soft, slightly damp skin, the task daunting due to the scale of his efforts compared to his own small form. Delaney’s feet were warm and slightly sticky, a testament to her active lifestyle and perhaps a lack of concern for the finer details of hygiene before subjecting Chase to this intimate chore.

As Chase worked, Delaney seemed absorbed in her phone, her fingers tapping away as she presumably managed the settings of their new YouTube channel, uploading content, and perhaps even sharing the freshly recorded video of Chase’s degradation. She occasionally shifted her feet, unintentionally making his task harder as he struggled to keep up with her movements, each shift a new challenge to his balance and his ability to continue his task.

Delaney adjusted her position on the couch, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she kept her soles prominently displayed on the coffee table in front of Chase. She switched her phone to video mode again and began recording. "Hey everyone, back so soon! I've got a special surprise for Chase today," she announced with a gleeful chuckle, her voice brimming with anticipation.

She reached into her purse, keeping her hand obscured from Chase's view, building suspense for both him and her growing audience. "As part of his transition from a boring human to my absolute property, our little Chase here had to divorce my sister," she explained to the camera, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. With a dramatic flourish, she pulled her hand out of the purse, revealing two glittering rings—Alexis's wedding ring and engagement ring.

Delaney’s laughter filled the room, each note sharp and mocking as she held up the transformed jewelry. "Since Alexis clearly doesn’t need these anymore," she said with a twisted smile, her voice dripping with malice, "I’ve had them resized into toe rings." She flaunted the rings before the camera, her delight in Chase's humiliation palpable. "After all, the only intimacy Chase will experience for the rest of his pathetic life will be with these feet." She slid the rings onto her second toe, her laughter growing louder and more cruel with each movement.

The camera zoomed in, focusing on the gleaming bands now adorning her toes—symbols of Chase’s demolished marital commitment now reduced to mere trinkets on the feet of his tormentor. Chase watched, a visceral mix of rage and heartbreak coursing through him as he saw these poignant reminders of his past love trivialized so callously. His face contorted with anguish, a stark portrayal of a man seeing the remnants of his former life desecrated.

With a cruel glint in her eye, Delaney then raised her foot closer to Chase and the camera, pointing her big toe at him while the wedding and engagement rings on her second toe sparkled mockingly. "Come here, Chase, and give your new bride a nice, sloppy wedding night kiss," she commanded, her laughter dark and derisive.

She maneuvered her foot to ensure the camera captured everything, zooming in on her toes. "Let's see that kiss, make it good," she taunted, her voice loud and commanding, filled with a sadistic pleasure that chilled the air.

Chase’s face, a canvas of humiliation and pain, betrayed his inner turmoil. Forced to partake in this twisted charade, he moved closer, his movements hesitant and filled with dread. The embarrassment was palpable, his cheeks flushed with shame as he leaned forward to place a kiss on the toe Delaney had mockingly referred to as his 'new bride.'

Chase hesitantly pressed his lips against Delaney’s big toe, the initial contact light and reluctant. Delaney's face twisted into a look of displeasure, her expectations not met. “No, no, no,” she chastised sharply, her voice ringing with mock disappointment. “That’s not nearly good enough. I said a nice, sloppy wedding night kiss. Make out with it, like you mean it!”

With the camera still rolling, capturing every humiliating second, Chase’s humiliation deepened. He swallowed hard, the taste of fear mingling with the salty residue on her skin. Forced to comply under Delaney’s mocking gaze, he leaned in once more, this time enveloping her big toe with his mouth, giving it exaggerated, wet kisses. His actions were deliberate and over the top, mimicking the intimacy she demanded in a grotesque parody of affection.

Delaney burst into raucous laughter, clearly entertained by his misery. “There you go! That’s more like it!” she exclaimed, her voice loud and filled with a triumphant cruelty. She continued to hold her toe out, enjoying the control and the obvious discomfort it caused him.

The camera captured every moment of Chase’s degradation, Delaney ensuring that this twisted interaction would be seen by anyone who tuned into her channel.

Delaney, still chuckling from the spectacle she had orchestrated, turned the camera back to face herself. Her face beamed with cruel satisfaction as she addressed her growing audience with a gleeful energy.

"Alright, everyone, if you enjoyed that little display of marital bliss," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "make sure to hit that like button and subscribe for more! There’s plenty more where that came from in Chase’s new life with his 'new wife'." She let out another laugh, the sound sharp and mocking.

She raised her foot slightly into the frame, wiggling her toes adorned with the wedding and engagement rings-turned-toe rings. "And trust me, you don’t want to miss out on all the fun we’re going to have with this one," Delaney continued, her tone teasing yet sinister. "Chase here is going to be very busy keeping his new wife happy."

With a final, exaggerated wink to the camera, she added, "Stay tuned for more episodes, and watch how I keep my little househusband in line. It’s going to be wildly entertaining!" Her voice was filled with excitement at the prospect of showcasing further degradation and control, emphasizing her total domination over Chase.

Delaney then ended the video, her last look at the camera one of victorious malice, promising more torment and humiliation for Chase and more twisted entertainment for her viewers. Her laughter faded as she put the camera away, the echo of her joy at his expense lingering in the air.