My body was in a hogtie and hung in midair just 3ft off the ground. A sturdy chain from the ceiling carried my weight, while rough stone floors and windowless walls surrounded me. A plush red armchair had been placed just a few feet in front, and sitting on it was the man whom I had seen the other day, the man who had bought me.

Instead of a formal shirt and tie, he wore tight denim trousers and an unbuttoned silk shirt. It revealed his broad-shouldered, lean build, with toned arms and the faint ripples of abdominal muscles. Though nothing comparable to the male body-builders the media kept glorifying,...