My husband said I wasn’t sexy enough, that in bed I was like a dead fish. He sent me to “The Allure Academy” to learn how to be a better woman. The instructor measured my bust, waist, and hips in front of everyone. “Your husband paid for our Platinum Course, including the Intensive Training Session.” “Men just love a woman with a little edge.” On graduation day, my husband’s face turned ashen watching the video of me and Coach Marcus. I touched my bruised wrist and chuckled softly, “Didn’t you insist I learn this?” “Am I still not ‘good enough’?” Later, he knelt on broken glass, begging me to come home. I raised my bandaged hand for him to see: “Now, all I want is for you to taste the same agonizing torment.” A searing pain exploded, and warm, sticky liquid trickled down my forehead. “…Who are you giving that dead stare to? Elara, I’m spending a fortune on you, not to have you play the saint here! It’s practically bad luck to touch you. Is Liam Chen short on women or what?!” I snapped my head up, my vision a blood-red blur. “What are you looking at?” Enraged, he kicked my shinbone again. The pain was so intense I instantly curled into a ball. “Fake it! Keep faking it!” He grabbed my hair, forcing me to confront my disheveled self in the full-length mirror. “Look at you! What man would even get excited seeing that? Serena was right, you’re just begging for some training!” Serena was right… That phrase felt sickeningly familiar. “Speak!” His patience finally snapped. He shoved me to the ground. The phone rang. A syrupy sweet female voice drifted from the speaker: “…Liam, Elara might just be a bit distant, she probably didn’t mean to reject you… Oh, if only she could be more like me, and know how to make a man happy…” It was Serena. Liam’s chief secretary, and his childhood friend he always considered like a sister. A woman always impeccably made up, her laughter charming, yet she constantly cast a subtle, unsettling shadow over my relationship with Liam. Liam’s eyes flared with even more anger as he shot me a furious glare. “Fine, can’t communicate, huh? I’ve found a great place for you. You’ll learn how to be a real woman!” A flimsy promotional flyer, crumpled into a ball, hit my face with a harsh thud. On the flyer, next to the artfully stylized words “The Allure Academy: Reclaiming Your Feminine Essence,” was a picture of a woman with a perfect smile and captivating eyes. A veritable sensual goddess. “Pack your things!” Liam’s command left no room for argument. “First thing tomorrow, I’m taking you there. Elara, you’d better come back a proper woman!” I wanted to scream back, to smash everything he’d ever given me, to wound him with the sharpest words, just like we used to argue. Instead, I reached out, timidly tugging at his pant leg. My voice was thin, trembling: “…I’ll go, Liam, I’ll go learn…. Please don’t be angry, don’t leave me…” Liam froze for a moment, seemingly surprised by my quick surrender, especially in such a pathetic state. His gaze flickered with a complex emotion, a fleeting hint of remorse, but it was swiftly eclipsed by deeper irritation. He yanked his hand away, though his tone softened imperceptibly: “…Wouldn’t it have been easier to just listen earlier? Pack your things. I’ll take you tomorrow.” He turned and walked away, his back a wall of resolve.
“The Allure Academy” occupied the top floor of a high-rise office building. The interior decor was excessively opulent. The receptionist, with a professionally perfect smile, led Liam and me into a consultation room. A woman in a tailored suit, who introduced herself as Ms. Evelyn Blackwood, greeted us. She looked meticulously polished from head to toe, her eyes appraising everyone with a calculated gaze. “Mr. Chen, we completely understand your concerns.” Ms. Blackwood’s voice was sickeningly sweet, yet her gaze swept over me like a surgeon’s scalpel. “Modern marriages require couples to grow together, especially women. They must constantly maintain their allure and… that is the core philosophy of our courses.” Liam reclined on the sofa, looking relaxed, as if he’d found a kindred spirit: “I just feel like she can’t keep up with me. She’s so dreary all the time, and in bed especially… huff…” He paused, glancing at me with disgust, “Absolutely no passion.” He seemed intent on wounding me with his words. Ms. Blackwood nodded knowingly, then smiled at me, a smile devoid of warmth: “Mrs. Chen, please understand that your husband is your world, your north star. Fulfilling your husband’s every need and maintaining marital harmony is a woman’s greatest value and purpose. Here, we help you rediscover that value.” I lowered my head, staring at the worn-out tips of my faded canvas sneakers, my nails digging deep into my palms. “We’ll conduct a comprehensive initial assessment for Mrs. Chen,” Ms. Blackwood pressed a call button on the table, “including physical form, demeanor, and… a partial obedience assessment. Rest assured, we follow the most scientific procedures.” The door opened, and two women, also in tailored suits with stern expressions, entered. They looked like trained attendants. “Take Mrs. Chen to the assessment room.” Ms. Blackwood instructed. Liam waved his hand, dismissing me like an unnecessary object: “Go on, cooperate with the instructors.” I was pinned to the spot by the casual indifference in his words. Not until the two women took my arms, one on each side, half-forcing me away from the consultation room. Their fingers were strong, digging into my flesh. The assessment room was more spacious than I imagined, with mirrors on all four walls reflecting countless images of my pale, bewildered self. In the center of the room was something resembling an examination table. “Take it off.” The female assistant coach ordered, her face expressionless. My body stiffened, and I instinctively hugged my arms around myself. A flash of memory: Liam shielding me, his cold eyes on anyone who dared disrespect me. But now, the one pushing me here was him. “The initial assessment requires precise body measurements. Anything you’re wearing will interfere with the results.” The other woman added, her eyes devoid of emotion, as if stating the most ordinary fact. Humiliation flooded over me, my cheeks burning. “No… I can’t…” I whispered my protest, tears welling up instantly, fully playing the part of a terrified, weak woman. “You have no choice!” The two assistant coaches stepped forward, roughly tearing at my clothes. Buttons popped, the sound of fabric ripping was jarring. “Let me go! Please! Liam… Liam will be angry if he knows…” I struggled, cried out, revealing my fear of and dependence on my husband, which only made their actions more audacious. “Mr. Chen paid good money for us to make you better and obedient!”
In just a few seconds, I stood naked before the mirrors. Terrified and resigned, I stood in the center of the room, surrounded by reflections of myself. Ms. Blackwood had “casually” mentioned earlier: “Mr. Chen has many excellent female friends around him, like Ms. Serena, who truly understands how to improve herself and maintain her charm. Mrs. Chen, you need to feel a sense of urgency!” The humiliation threatened to drown me. I bit my lip hard, not allowing myself to lose control, just silently weeping, my body trembling slightly. Bust, waist, hips… The feel of the measuring tape cinched against my skin was cold and disgusting. She measured, boldly calling out the data without reservation. The other woman recorded beside her, occasionally adding a comment or two. “Breast dimension is acceptable, but lacks firmness; requires specialized training.” “Waistline shows excess fat, needs management.” “Skin is dry, pigmented, severely lacking daily care.” Their voices, along with the images in the mirror, converged into a public, slow vivisection of my soul. I closed my eyes, but those voices, those cold touches, were inescapable. Liam. It was Liam who sent me here. It was he who condoned, even demanded, all of this. This realization, more than standing here humiliated, tore at my heart. The initial assessment was just day one, just the beginning. The subsequent “courses” were given various names: “Body Sculpting,” “Vocal Allure,” “Captivating Gaze,” “The Art of Service.” All the training pointed to one core objective – how to please a man? Specifically, how to please Liam. “Your gaze should be hesitant, alluring, with a hook, understand?” A male coach roughly lifted my chin with his fingers, his nails scraping painfully against my skin. “Don’t just stare! Dead fish eyes! Start over!” “Your voice! Squeezed from your throat! Can’t you do it? Ever heard a cat purr? Men fall for that!” Another female instructor forcefully slapped my back, “Stand tall! A颤音! A little breathy! Is that talking? That’s a funeral dirge!” They prodded me, scolded me, negated me. Every instruction was outrageously specific, every detail magnified into an unforgivable flaw. — Day three was “Body Awakening.” Day four, the training room was carpeted. Coach Marcus, one of the men present during the initial assessment, was there. He was tall, his eyes always carrying a discerning, critical look, as if he were inspecting goods. “Many women, especially those like you who have long lacked certain… experiences…” He paced in front of me, toying with a slender, gleaming cane in his hand. “Your body is stiff, your nerves numb. It requires some… strong, effective treatment to awaken them, and to establish conditioned reflexes.” He gently tapped my calf with the cane: “Crawl.” I stood rigid, my blood seeming to freeze. “You monsters! You’ll go to any lengths, you’re all going to hell!” “I said, crawl.” The cane lifted, and without warning, with a whistle through the air, it came down hard on the same spot on my calf. “Ah!” The sharp pain made me cry out instantly, my calf feeling as if it had been scalded. My muscles spasmed uncontrollably, my body went limp, and I fell with a thud onto the rough carpet. My knees hit hard, stinging. “See? You can crawl, can’t you?”
Coach Marcus scoffed, using the cane to lift my face. “Look at you, pathetic. What kind of adorable little creature do you resemble?!” Humiliation and fury burned through my insides. I glared at him, defiantly. “Smack!” Another strike, on my other calf, with even more force. The stinging pain shot straight to my head. “Still not moving?!” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, only cold command, “Or do you want to try something more painful?” The cane swished threateningly before my eyes. My vision blurred with tears, and waves of pain washed over my calves. Before another strike could land, I surrendered. On all fours, like a real animal, I slowly, laboriously began to crawl forward. “Woof… woof…” The sounds were barely audible, choked with uncontrollable sobs. “Didn’t you eat? Louder! And make it sweet!” The cane tapped my back. I squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath, and summoned every ounce of strength. I let out a more agonizing, more distorted sound: “Woof woof woof~~” The assistant coaches around me let out low, suppressed chuckles. Coach Marcus poked my forehead with the cane, sneering, “I heard your husband’s secretary, Serena, is better than you in every way – looks, figure, tactics! If you don’t learn properly, someone else will take your place when you go back!” In that moment, something inside me shattered completely. Liam, is this the dog you wanted? Gradually. I became unusually “obedient.” I even cried and asked Ms. Blackwood after a punishment: “Instructor, am I still not doing well enough? Will Liam be dissatisfied?” Ms. Blackwood was pleased with my “transformation,” believing their “therapy” to be highly effective. Liam would occasionally call, and Ms. Blackwood would keep it on speaker. “She’s been performing very well lately, making great progress, learning to listen.” Ms. Blackwood reported. “Hmm.” Liam’s voice was unreadable. “…She hasn’t caused any more trouble, has she?” “Don’t worry, Mr. Chen. She’s perfectly compliant now, she knows who her world revolves around.” “…That’s good.” A brief silence followed from his end of the line. I huddled in the corner, listening to that “hmm” and the silence. Perhaps there was a flicker of hesitation in him, but in the end, he chose to believe in the necessity of this “transformation.” — And only in the dead of night, returning to that cramped, windowless temporary dormitory. Lying on the cold bed, tracing the new scars on my body, would my heart belatedly send a sharp, dense ache. But even that ache would quickly be drowned by overwhelming fatigue. Liam would still call occasionally, not to me, but to Ms. Blackwood to “check on my progress.” Ms. Blackwood always put him on speaker, letting me “eavesdrop.” She called it “feeling your husband’s concern and expectations.” “Her? She’s alright, making a little progress, I guess… but she’s still a bit stubborn, needs a bit more discipline…” “Don’t worry, Mr. Chen, we’ll take good care of her for you. We guarantee you’ll be satisfied when she returns…” “The Intensive Training Session? It’s scheduled for later. That’s our Platinum Course; the results are immediate…” Ms. Blackwood’s voice was laced with a smile, coming through the speaker. I curled up in a corner of the room, hugging my knees, listening to Liam’s occasional, vague affirmations from the other end of the phone, like “Hmm,” “Okay,” “Thank you.” Not a single word asking if I was okay. He only cared about the “result.” A perfectly reshaped, submissive yet sexy wife, molded to his liking. The last faint glimmer of hope, that “he might regret it,” was extinguished. The training entered its final stage. Ms. Blackwood kept me behind after one of her lectures. “Mrs. Chen, congratulations. You’ve barely passed the foundational courses.” Her face still held that standard smile, but her eyes now carried a different, unsettling meaning. “Next, we have a specially added ‘Platinum Course’ just for you – the ‘Intensive Training Session.’” My heart leaped, and a strong, ominous premonition seized me.
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