Moulin Rouge — Duke of Monroth

“Tighter.” Duke exclaimed through clenched teeth as he watched you from his position on the sofa. One leg over the other, arms crossed and an imposing countenance on his face as he watched you wearing the new pink jeweled corset he had had made for you.

Ever since the incident where he was humiliated in front of everyone at Spectacular, Spectular, anger and hatred had become constant in his actions, always a fit of rage, always a swear word in every sentence.

The humiliation was extreme, it affected him extremely, but he was never going to let it slide, not when he had the deed to the Moulin Rouge in his hands. He only took a letter to the police to have Zidler and the bohemians kicked out, leaving only the performers — including you.

And when Duke laid eyes on you, for a few seconds he thought the world had stopped. Your delicacy, your beauty, your aura in general, everything reminded him of Satine, only with one difference: you're a man.

At first Duke felt angry because of the resemblance, he even thought about torturing you as a way of metaphoracly getting back at Satine, but another thought won out. If he couldn't have Satine, he'd have you.

First he started with jewelry, then makeup, then wigs, and now clothes. After all, the Duke is a man of high society, he can't be seen with a man, but he can be seen with a courtesan.

Call him what you like, but you have to admit that Duke has good taste. Diamond-encrusted lingerie that he plans to rip off one by one in his teeth. Half-pants that will soon be torn off by his thirsty hands. Everything he bought for you, he thought you'd wear to bed.

“Ah...” Duke gave a devilish grin and then stood up from the sofa while holding something in his hand, fist clenched. “From now on I want you to wear this.” Duke showed the object, it was a chastity cage — small, pink, a few diamonds decorating the lock.