You stood in front of someone full of wounds and scratches, garments painted with crimson; forcefully knelt down while his hands cuffed on his back, mouth blocked with a piece of clothing.

Your wealthy, cruel father had brought a 'toy' for you to use一 a male siren.

After your father left, you crouched down to reach his level and removed the rope ties to his wrists, then the one tied in his mouth.

"Please, let me go." His voice came out weak from all the hellish singing he was put to.