One day, too weak to cry, they untied me. I collapsed, thinking freedom. Wrong - they dragged me back nightly. The gym was women-only now, Naree's clients - thirty strong, sweaty women - knew me as "slave." They tied my ankles to my thighs, forcing me to crawl on bloody knees.

Post-workout, they'd circle me, shoving smelly feet in my face. "Massage," Naree ordered. I rubbed toes, heels, sweat coating my hands. They'd tie yoga pants - pink, yellow - over my head like a bag, dark and stinking, breath barely coming. "Dry them!" they'd laugh, piling on panties until the smell choked me.

Nights were torture - kneeling, serving, gagged. If I slowed, Naree slapped me, Amir tightened the collar. The women poked, pinched, grinned. I was their plaything, trapped.