A woman emerged from the main house, her stiletto boots clicking on the porch. She was tall, maybe thirty, with raven hair pulled tight and lips painted blood red. Her leather corset hugged curves that screamed sex, but her eyes were cold, predatory. “You must be Lily,” she purred, voice like honey laced with venom. “I’m Mistress Vixen. Welcome to The Kennel.” Lily forced a smile, clutching her backpack strap. “Uh, thanks. This the place for the shoot?” Vixen’s laugh was sharp, a blade slicing through the humid air. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re the star. Follow me.”
The barn they entered was no studio. No lights, no cameras, just shadows and the clink of chains. Cages lined the walls, some empty, others holding shapes that whimpered softly. The air was thick with the scent of straw and something primal, animalistic. Lily’s heart pounded as Vixen led her to a metal table in the center, its surface stained with dark smears. “Strip,” Vixen commanded, tossing a collar onto the table. Lily froze. “What? I thought this was modeling.” Vixen’s smile vanished. “You’re property now. Strip, or I make you.” The man from the SUV appeared, a hulking figure with a shaved head and arms like tree trunks. The Beastmaster, Lily would learn later. His presence crushed any thought of running.
Trembling, Lily shed her tank top and shorts, her skin prickling under Vixen’s gaze. The collar snapped around her neck, cold and tight, a leash dangling from it. “Good girl,” Vixen cooed, yanking the leash to force Lily to her knees. The concrete bit into her skin, and she stifled a cry. Vixen crouched, her breath hot against Lily’s ear. “You’re here to serve. To fuck. To break. And you’ll love every second.” Before Lily could protest, Vixen dragged her to a cage, shoving her inside. The door slammed shut, and darkness swallowed her.