They stopped counting the days.

Wednesday blurred into Thursday and I stopped trying to keep track. The collar never came off. The leash stayed clipped except when they wanted both hands free to hold me open. My phone stayed locked in the drawer. My old clothes stayed folded and forgotten. The apartment had become the only place that existed.

They treated me like furniture that happened to get wet.

Morning started the same way every time—someone already inside me when I woke, slow lazy thrusts while the rest of the house woke up around us. I came before I was fully conscious, shaking under whoever had claimed the first turn....