Saturday arrived like a verdict.

I woke on the mattress already full. Someone had taken me while I slept again—slow, deep thrusts that left a fresh load leaking out of me when I tried to move. The collar was still locked. The leash was still clipped to the wall. The clamps had been removed sometime in the night, but the faint purple marks on my nipples remained.

They didn’t speak much that morning.

The regulars moved around the apartment with quiet purpose, clearing space, ordering food, checking phones. I stayed exactly where they had left me—legs open, body used, waiting. When one of them walked past he would stop, push...