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Stacy was kneeling, her body frozen as if sculpted from marble. The white t-shirt clung to her breasts, accentuating their curves, while the gray panties dug into her skin, leaving marks on her ass. Her gaze was fixed on the void, but behind this stillness was a storm of thoughts. She could feel everything. Every touch of air against her skin, every sound from the room. Her mind was working, analyzing, remembering, trying to understand how she ended up here. But her body wouldn’t obey. She just stood there, feeling the cold of the floor and the weight of her breasts.
Two women stood nearby. Margot Luthor, in a beautiful long dress with her head held high and a cold stare, and Anna, in a white medical coat and gloves, wearing a faint smile that seemed both friendly and ominous. Margot cleared her throat, adjusting a strand of hair...