She walked over to the TV again. Hit play.

Me. Bent. Moaning. Getting railed.

She hit pause.

"That's not how a respectable woman looks," she said.

I turned to her slowly.

"Strip. Everything. And wear this."

From her bag, she pulled a ridiculous velvet choker. A black bowtie. She stepped behind me and tied it carefully around my neck.

"There," she said sweetly. "Now you're ready."

I stood there, naked, collar tight against my throat, cheeks burning.

"You may begin."

I turned, shaking, and walked toward the broom.

Her voice followed me. "Remember, Vanessa--forty-five minutes left."

And the faintest sound behind me: the video playing again.

My moans echoed down...