Who am I? No one can tell me. Not the doctors at the New York hospital where I woke up, not the party clothes I wear, not the thousand dollars in my clutch purse or even the burner phone stuffed there too. But I get these text messages, luring me to a subbasement in the village where I am stripped, whipped and brought to mind blowing ecstasy by mysterious, darkened figures. When I dream I see women's faces, not unlike my own, full of fear, terror and desire. From the too few clues I discover a name – Conover – …
Who am I? No one can tell me. Not the doctors at the New York hospital where I woke up, not the party clothes I wear, not the thousand dollars in my clutch purse or even the burner phone stuffed there too. But I get these text messages, luring me to a subbasement in the village where I am stripped, whipped and brought to mind blowing ecstasy by mysterious, darkened figures. When I dream I see women's faces, not unlike my own, full of fear, terror and desire. From the too few clues I discover a name – Conover – the name of a Dom who is somehow involved with my amnesia. Slowly but surely, I follow a trail to a private SM club and a kinky restaurant, encountering familiar faces, though they’re strangers to me. All the while, my latent slave persona manifests more and more and I realize it’s Conover who has set me on this path of torture and bliss. My overwhelming obsession to be used as a slave will take a back seat to nothing – possibly not even the truth of my own identity.
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