**"You know you should be scared, don't you?"**

Emily's voice whispered against Ana's sweaty neck as her hands pressed the woman's wrists against the wall of the club's locker room. The smell of chlorine and bleach mingled with the acrid aroma of arousal.

Ana should have been fighting. She should have been screaming. But her glazed eyes only blinked slowly as Emily pulled the elastic of her bikini aside with a finger, exposing her swollen clitoris.

"It's... normal," Ana murmured, as if reciting a mantra. Her hips moved forward, seeking contact.

Emily chuckled softly, smoothing the teeth mark she had left on the woman's thigh minutes before.

**"Normal for whom, babe?"** Her knee pressed between Ana's open legs, making her moan. **"For the little whore who's dripping on the locker room floor while strangers film?"**

Emily's camera captured every detail: the beads of sweat trickling between Ana's breasts, her trembling abdominal muscles, her fingers curled against the cold tile.

When Emily finally inserted two fingers without warning, Ana arched like a wounded animal—but her eyes remained empty. Empty and *obedient*.

**"That's it. Just like that."** Emily bit Ana's earlobe as she recorded the moment the woman reached orgasm without being touched, simply by command. **"You don't even remember your name now, do you?"**

Ana shook her head, panting. Her lips formed a silent word as Emily withdrew her soaked fingers and rubbed them on the woman's open mouth. The salty taste made Ana close her eyes for a moment, her muscles still trembling with the aftereffects of the orgasm.

"Swallow," Emily ordered, gripping Ana's chin tightly as she watched the submissive's throat move obediently. The camera captured every detail—the sheen on her swollen lips, her breasts rising and falling rapidly, her fingers now gripping Emily's waist as the only anchor amidst the turmoil.

Without warning, Emily pulled Ana by the hair to the front of the fogged-up dressing room mirror. "Look," she whispered against the nape of her neck as she pointed the camera at the reflection. "Look at what a slut you are."

Ana saw a stranger in the mirror—dilated pupils, flushed skin, trembling legs still spread. When Emily slid a hand between her thighs again, the woman in the reflection arched her back with a hoarse moan that didn't seem to come from her own throat.

"Now say thank you," Emily ordered, biting Ana's shoulder as her fingers found the perfect spot once more. And Ana obeyed—because what else could an empty doll do but obey?