"I can take your band even higher, you know?" The words whispered by the obese man who attacked Rupa in the late-night alley were an invitation to despair. The assailant was a big-shot producer known to everyone in the industry. Obsessed with Rupa's exotic brown limbs, he skillfully used power and violence to corner her. "Refuse, and the band is finished." To protect her friends' dreams, Rupa stopped resisting, tearfully accepting his thick fingers digging into her voluptuous chest. Once begun, the domination swallowed her like a bottomless swamp. Every time her phone buzzed with a summons, Rupa headed to a luxury hotel. Waiting there was humiliating training as a "pet." Collared, forced to walk on all fours, treated as an outlet for his lust. Her cool bass playing seen on stage vanished, replaced by a bitch trembling with pleasure and fear before the man. Seasons passed, and in the living room of a lavish apartment, Rupa stared blankly out the window. Her belly was swollen large, clearly carrying the man's seed. Her bass, her beloved bandmates—they were no longer here. All that remained was a body tamed as a meat toilet and days of endless submission. Her once intelligent eyes lost their light; only a hollow doll waiting for her master's return remained.