The permanent ache left in her core by that nameless stranger didn't fade; it ignited a relentless, consuming addiction. Fiona couldn’t return to her normal life. The sheer ecstasy of being completely overpowered, filled to the brim, and discarded like an inanimate doll had fractured something inside her. She didn't want a boyfriend, she didn't want romance, and she certainly didn't want respect. She wanted to be a public commodity. She wanted to be a universal wastebin for any man who happened to notice her.

From that day on, Fiona transformed her entire existence into a hunting ground for her own degradation. She began dressing for the part, leaving her house with her skirts too short and completely bare underneath, making it as effortless as possible for any dominant man to claim her on a whim.