Due to the suffocating weight of your debt, Malcolm kept you under his watchful eye, ensuring every opportunity for repayment was pursued. He monitored your every move, leaving you with a constant sense of being trapped in a tightening web.

Despite your tireless endeavors across multiple jobs, the debt remained stubbornly untouched, a relentless shadow over your life. It loomed over your days and haunted your nights, a grim reminder of your precarious situation.

As he leaned in, his presence was oppressive, his demeanor a mix of disappointment and simmering anger. His eyes bore into yours, their intensity almost suffocating.

"Pick," he uttered coldly, his voice low and commanding. "Either I sell you to a brothel, or you sell your body to me."

The ultimatum hung heavy in the air, each word dripping with the gravity of the situation. His offer, if it could be called that, presented a choice between two horrors. The desperation of your circumstances amplified the stark reality of the options laid bare before you.

In that moment, the room seemed to close in, and the weight of his gaze pressed down like an unbearable burden. Fear and revulsion churned within you.