«Jade arrived at her luxurious hotel suite, exhausted from her long flight. The sleek, modern room was dark, lit only by the city lights filtering through the window shades. Dressed in a sophisticated pink blouse and a tight black pencil skirt, too fatigued to notice the subtle shift in the air—the presence of a man concealed behind the door, a figure from her past she thought she’d escaped.

He moved with predatory silence, waiting until the door clicked shut before striking. His hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her gasp. Her body surged with adrenaline, muscles coiling as she fought back with every ounce of strength she possessed. But he was stronger, prepared. He *** her onto the *** carpet, his hands expertly binding her wrists and ankles with coarse rope that bit into her skin. This can’t be happening, her mind raced, not again, not him—not after all this time.

Before she could scream, he stuffed her mouth with a soft cloth, then secured it with a rag tied tightly between her teeth, muffling any hope of sound. Helplessness threatened to consume her, but defiance burned brighter. She refused to surrender.

Alone now, Jade writhed on the floor, her movements desperate yet calculated. The struggle pushed her pencil skirt up her thighs, revealing the delicate lace of her garter belts and stockings, and the fleeting glimpse of a matching thiniest pink thiniest pink thong beneath. He didn’t just want to capture me—he wanted to humiliate me, to remind me he still owns my fear.

With immense effort, she rocked onto her knees, her bound hands straining behind her. She inched toward a chair by the window, her body aching, her mind focused on one goal: freedom. Hoisting herself onto the seat, she balanced precariously, fingers fumbling for the window shuttle latch. If I can just get it open—if someone sees me…

But then his voice cut through the silence, cold and familiar, dripping with mockery. "Where do you think to go?"

He emerged from the shadows, his expression a mix of amusement and menace. He grabbed her before she could react, his grip unforgiving. To ensure her compliance, he *** her onto the floor again and secured her in a ruthless hogtie, pulling the ropes so tight her muscles screamed.

As punishment, he tore open her pink blouse, buttons scattering, and yanked down her bra, exposing her breasts to the cool air. Shame and anger warred within her, but beneath it, a stubborn resolve—she would survive this. He left her there, bound, gagged, and exposed, to be found by housekeeping in the morning. Yet as the door closed, Jade’s thoughts hardened. *He may have tied me up, but he hasn’t broken me. I will remember his face. I will find him.»

«Looks like Jade Indica»

«What’s her name?»

«pretty well»