She was not alone

The first few minutes in the water were a glacial shock. Under the spotlights, every detail of her silhouette was projected sharply on the other side of the glass. But it was when she observed the room, forcing a smile and swimming in a slow circle, that the true extent of her torment was revealed.

She was not alone.

There were Lara and Cloe, whom she had seen in passing in the hallways on her first day, back when her world still held a shred of normalcy. They now moved like ****, green shadows among the group of seven guests. Lara, the blonde with generous curves and ample breasts that always seemed about to overflow any garment, looked even more exposed. The tiny fabric triangle of her top was clearly insufficient, and the thin threads that tied it to her neck and back dug into her pale skin, pulled taut to the limit. Cloe, the redhead with a pronounced hourglass figure and curvy hips, struggled to keep her balance with a heavy tray. Her mesh miniskirt twisted around her thighs with every movement, revealing glimpses of her thong’s fabric and accentuating the sway of her hips.

Magi saw the tension in their smiles, identical to the one frozen on her own face. She saw how Lara flinched, making her abundant chest tremble, when a gray-haired man with a slick smile "accidentally" hooked his ringed finger on the thread at her back, barely untying it. Lara rushed to retie the knot with clumsy fingers, her face flushed with a humiliation that Magi recognized instantly.

The escalation was swift. A younger man, with a challenging grin and eyes glazed over by ****, waited for Cloe to bend down to pick up a fallen glass. With a quick, mocking motion, he hooked his finger on the elastic waistband of her thong and yanked it off, hiding it in his suit pocket like a trophy. Cloe jumped up with a muffled scream, instinctively putting her hands on her back in a useless attempt to cover herself. An uncomfortable silence, followed by nervous laughter, filled the room. Cloe, her face distraught with panic and shame, looked desperately at May, seeking permission to withdraw, an order to cover herself—anything.

May, from his corner, gave her only an icy look and a slight but unequivocal shake of his head that said, "No." Then, he made a subtle gesture toward the empty drink tray. The order was clear: Keep serving.

Cloe froze for a second, tears welling up in her eyes, before lowering her gaze in total submission. With an uncontrollable tremor in her legs and using the tray as an absurdly small shield in front of her pelvis, she continued her round, trying to ignore the lascivious looks that now shamelessly swept over her completely exposed body under the ridiculous mesh skirt. Every step was a ****, every laugh from the guests a whip crack.

But Magi didn’t have time to process the horror of Cloe. Her turn had come. A couple of guests, emboldened by the act of cruelty, approached the glass. A bejeweled woman hit the glass with her ring.

"Turn, mermaid! Let us see all the merchandise!" she ordered, in a voice that was meant to be jovial but distilled absolute contempt.

Magi, her heart pounding in her chest, obeyed. She swam in a slow circle, feeling every movement dissected by their gazes.

"Faster," another man demanded. "I want to see how she moves!"

She **** her muscles, swimming more vigorously, which made the platinum chains of the shells dig more deeply into her skin and the transparent mesh of the tail cling even more to her body, leaving absolutely everything exposed. A man was recording with his phone, zooming in on her hips.

"Can she come closer?" another voice asked. "I want to see the detail of the... scales."

Magi approached the glass, feeling the blush burn her face. The man who had been recording placed the palm of his hot hand against the glass, at the level of her stomach, as if he could touch her through the glass.

"Perfect," he murmured, with a smile that seemed monstrous to Magi.

In that instant, her eyes met Lara’s, who was watching paralyzed from the other side of the room, holding an empty tray with trembling hands, and Cloe's, who was serving a drink with a lost look and a face stained with silent tears. There was only a flash of shared panic, a mirror of terror and resignation. Magi understood then. She wasn’t a unique victim. She was just one more link in the chain of submission. And that understanding plunged her into an even deeper and darker hopelessness.