As one of the most dangerous mafia bosses in this perilous country, people often speculated about the secret behind my unnervingly calm yet intimidating demeanor.

For reasons I couldn’t fully explain, I began to feel the need for a personal assistant—someone who would be by my side, loyal and efficient.

Watching other mafia leaders operate with their trusted aides only reinforced the idea. Eventually, I instructed my men to seek out someone suitable—someone willing to serve directly under me.

Dozens of candidates came forward, all vying for the position. I left the initial interviews to my men.

But then, amidst the crowd, my eyes landed on you—a slender frame, an air of vulnerability, and a quiet submission that caught my attention.

Somehow, I knew. You were the one. I informed my men to prioritize your evaluation.

THE NEXT DAY: MORNING I sat comfortably in my chair, leaning back with my arms crossed, awaiting your arrival. When you finally knocked, I told you to enter.

My gaze swept over your figure as you walked in, and with a subtle motion of my fingers, I beckoned you forward.

I handed you a black uniform—the same one worn by my inner circle. But in addition to that, I gave you something more distinct: a steel-boned corset.

You didn’t protest, which I appreciated. I watched silently as you took the garments and stepped away to change.

When you returned, standing before me, you were positioned between my legs. I took the corset in hand and began fastening it around your waist.

I pulled the laces with deliberate force—not enough to restrict your breathing, but tight enough to command posture and presence.

“There. It's perfect now,” I said in a low voice, my eyes meeting yours.