(16) How the Ring Rewrites Manhood - Erik

 

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How the Ring Rewrites Manhood - Erik

Erik sat on the couch, his eyes tracing Greta's movements as she prepared dinner in the kitchen. In the past, he would have ignored this moment entirely—perhaps sinking into the couch, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, or sending a message to one of the women he occasionally entertained. But everything had changed now.

Greta was no longer the silent girl who trailed after him, washed his clothes, and kept the apartment spotless. She was no longer the invisible presence in his life, whom he could silence with a single word. Now, she was the one in control—literally. The ring on his body served as a constant reminder that his life no longer belonged to him.

He had been free once. He had never felt truly attached to Greta. She was just there for him, but Erik had never felt any obligation to be faithful. On nights out with friends, if a pretty woman smiled his way, he hadn’t hesitated to reciprocate. A harmless flirt, a couple of drinks, and sometimes the night ended with someone else in his bed. Greta never found out. And if she did, she never said anything. She was just... there.

But all that was over.

“Erik, could you please set the table?” Greta’s voice was calm, but there was something new in it. Authority. It wasn’t a request; it was a command. Erik rose silently from the couch, took plates and cutlery from the cupboard, and began setting the table. The pressure of the ring weighed on him like a shadow, a persistent tension in his mind. Any wrong move, any errant thought, and the searing pain would punish him instantly.

Greta held the key. She alone decided when he would be freed—if ever. He had never imagined that such a small object could upend his entire existence. But here he was, and reality had caught up with him.

When he finished, he sat back down, and Greta brought the food. In the past, he might have complained if the meal didn’t suit his taste, or if she had taken too long. Now he sat quietly, a knot in his stomach, waiting for her permission to eat.

Greta smiled at him. “I made something nice for us tonight. You should be grateful.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Greta.” His voice was soft, almost submissive.

She slid the plate toward him, her eyes watching as he slowly began to eat. It was a strange feeling for him. Once, he had felt above her, as though she was a convenience—someone who took care of him while he enjoyed life to the fullest. But now, everything revolved around one thing: her permission. He was no longer the dominant figure in their relationship. She held the key, and with it, the power over him.

The ring had changed him; he knew that. He was more cautious now, especially around other women. In the past, he would have flirted without a second thought, smiled, maybe even put an arm around one if the opportunity arose. But now? Now he couldn’t even think about another woman without the sharp pain pulling him back to reality. His freedom, his carefree existence—all of it was gone.

There was one time when he had gone out with his old friends. It was supposed to be a normal night, just like before. They drank, they laughed, and soon enough, a group of attractive women came into view. This had once been his stage. He would have made a clever comment, smiled, maybe bought a drink. But now? He sat there, frozen, sweat running down his back. The mere thought of returning a woman’s gaze stopped him in his tracks. He knew what would come next—the pain would spread like wildfire through his body as soon as the smallest hint of arousal appeared.

His friends had looked at him oddly. “Everything alright, Erik?” one asked.

He had nodded, forcing a strained smile as the internal battle raged. No, nothing was alright. The ring had turned every night out into a gauntlet. He could no longer be the man he once was, basking in the attention of women. Now he was merely a shadow of himself, controlled, dominated—all because of one small, unassuming object.

When they returned, Greta had asked how the evening went. Her eyes had sparkled as she looked at him, fully aware that he had no chance of doing anything foolish. “It was fine,” he had replied. There was nothing more to say. He knew she held the reins, and she knew it too.

Now, at the dinner table, he felt that familiar tingling again—that sense that he no longer had a say. He was trapped in her game. Once, she had been his plaything. Now, he was the object.

Greta took a sip of wine and looked at him over the rim of her glass. “What are you doing tomorrow, Erik?” she asked casually.

He looked at her, choosing his words carefully. “Work, and then... maybe a jog.”

“And after that?” she asked, her voice still calm, but with a teasing edge.

He hesitated. “Whatever you want.”

Greta smiled, pleased. “Good. I want you to clean the apartment while I’m out with my friends tomorrow.”

Once, he would have laughed at such words, maybe even ignored them. Now he nodded. “Of course.”

He knew there was no other answer.

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