They built a cage - small, metal, dog-sized. "Your home," Naree said. Locked inside, hands tied to bars, legs folded, I cramped constantly. At night, they'd use me - seat, hanger, massager - then lock me back. Wet clothes hung with me - yoga pants, bras - steaming the cage with my breath, a sweaty prison. They'd spray the drug sometimes, leaving me limp, helpless.