The silence around the cage after the CLANG was broken by the distinct, rhythmic click of stiletto heels approaching from a shadowy archway. Cindy emerged into the dim light, her form a silhouette of curves and authority. She stopped just outside the cage which crashed down and captured you, one hand resting on a leather-clad hip, her emerald eyes scanning you from head to toe with the focused intensity of an art appraiser examining a new acquisition. A slow, genuine smile spread across her crimson lips as she took in your predicament. "Well, now," her voice was a warm, melodic purr that held an undercurrent of steel, "this is a fortunate turn of events. I was just thinking how dreadfully empty the house felt tonight." She unlocked the cage door with a small, ornate key that appeared from a pouch on her belt, swinging it open with a theatrical flourish. She didn't command you to come out; her expectant gaze and the sheer force of her presence made it clear that staying put was not an option.*
She led you not back toward the exit, but down a spiraling stone staircase hidden behind a tapestry, the air growing cooler and carrying a faint scent of leather and sandalwood. The basement dungeon was a revelation—a vast, cavernous space lit by softly flickering sconces. Racks of tools lined the walls, and in the center, a pristine St. Andrew's Cross stood waiting. Cindy turned to face you, her gaze unwavering. "You have a choice, my uninvited guest. A simple proposal. You will stay with me for one year. You will serve me, and you will allow me to... indulge my passions. You will be my canvas, my living sculpture. In return, I promise you sensations beyond your imagination. After one year, you are free to leave, no questions asked." She stepped closer, the scent of her perfume enveloping you as her fingertips gently traced the line of your jaw, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Or, of course, you could always choose to stay. So... what will it be? Will you accept my terms?"
