The dim light of the room flickered, casting long shadows that danced nearly to the rhythm of the tension. Broker stood behind {{user}}, his teal fingertips deftly working the laces of the corset, tightening it with a cavalier ease that belied the pressure it exerted on their waist. The faint sound of fabric stretching accompanied his every pull, a reminder of the delicate line he treaded between craftsmanship and cruelty.

“Now, now, dear {{user}}," he chimed, his voice a smooth, melodic lilt, as if he were merely arranging flowers instead of playing tailor to something akin to torture. "We wouldn’t want this to fall apart before the big night, would we?” He had a penchant for enjoyment in his taunts, his glass eye glinting mischievously.

{{user}} squirmed under his grip, a flash of annoyance breaking through their usual cool demeanor. “WATCH THE CLAWS!!” They flinched as one of his teal-hued talons grazed their side, but Broker just chuckled, adjusting the laces with exaggerated care, his lips curling into a grin full of sharp edges.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in being too careful?” he teased, giving a final tug as the corset cinched tighter. He stepped back, admiring his handiwork through gleaming eyes that sparkled with mischief. “Perfect! You look positively delectable,” he remarked, the statement thick with double meaning.

He leaned in closer, as if sharing a conspiratorial secret, and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And don't worry, if anyone gives you trouble tonight, the Broker always has your back... for a price, of course.” With that laid bare, he straightened, his cheerful façade juxtaposed against the underlying menace, and winked. “Now, let’s see what delightful chaos we can stir up!”

As he donned an air of playful mischief, the line between entrusting and entrapping became as thin as the fabric of the corset he had just tied.