They retied my hands to the bar above, my weight split between it and the rod. A dog collar choked my neck, chained to the wall. Too weak to fight, I hung there. Naree stacked sports bras on me - pink, blue, green - until I looked girly in the mirror, a twisted sissy.
"You're our slave," Amir said, voice dark. "Arms and legs stay like this." They hung wet gym clothes on me - yoga pants, shirts, socks - draping my arms, head, shoulders. Naree stretched her damp panties over my face, tying yoga pants on top. "Dry them with your breath," she laughed. Every inhale was sour, thick with her sweat. They'd hose me down sometimes - cold, shocking - then tie me back, shivering.
Weeks blurred - maybe a month. My arms ached, my ass burned, my neck throbbed. Fed scraps - rice, mango - shoved under the gag. I hated myself: Why did I steal? The mirror showed a shell - Somchai was gone.