The cool metal of the medical table bit into Tara’s skin as she was lifted onto it. The two clients, both in their late thirties, worked in tandem, securing her wrists and ankles to the leather restraints with practiced efficiency. Veer stood nearby, watching with a proprietary gaze that made Tara’s stomach churn.

“You’re such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” one of the clients said, his fingers trailing up her inner thigh. His voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, and Tara found herself unable to look away. “All tied up for us, just waiting to be played with.”