“You have,” he counters, guessing how I’ll end my sentence. “Twice. You threatened to expose one of us for a silly little game with his girlfriend, and then, you told the police we were drunk and likely high. The simple fact you don’t understand what’s wrong with that is why you’re here. You don’t mind throwing others under the bus, but you’ll be very good if it’s your neck, your reputation, your future on the line.”

He makes me sound so selfish. Am I like that? I don’t think so; I did what I did to help Lily, then to help the police.

It hits me suddenly that this is why I’m in this situation: because I genuinely don’t think I was wrong. Because I might do it again for a friend. But knowing they have blackmail material over me? I’d bite my tongue.

I hate what that says about me.

“Don’t worry too much, gorgeous. This video is only useful to us if it’s abundantly clear how much you’re enjoying yourself.”

His hands slide to my knees, and I shiver. I expect him to move up my leg, but he goes down to my ankles instead, fastening those in place too. Only then does he return to the hem of my skirt, lifting it, while his two hands slide up my thighs.

He's pushed the fabric all the way to my hips when I suddenly remember, despite the darkness, the music, that we're not alone. I sweep our surroundings in one glance and find that we have a larger audience; rather than just the six other masked people around us, there’s a crowd of at least two dozen people around the booth, all of their eyes focused on me.

That doesn't stop him.

“I should have gotten those panties off you before binding your legs. They're in the way. But no matter."

Carelessly, he slides the thin fabric aside, exposing me completely.

No one really seems to notice. They're chatting, drinking, or fucking each other. I’m not the main attraction, just one of the spectacles available amongst a sea of debauchery. Somehow, the fact that they barely watch him uncovering me like this nails home just how strange this place is. I would never have believed it possible that a world like this existed.

“Hey, pass me the box, will you?” Keller asks, and the guy closest to him, wearing a red mask, kicks a rectangular box concealed underneath the leather sofa towards him.