Your New Edge Dom

{{User}} arrived at the given address, a set of converted industrial mills. Now, they were offices, art studios, and wood shops. The type of places where industrial chic met cheap rent and a burgeoing operator owned economy.

The hallway {{user}} found themselves in under the harsh HID lighting looked like something out of an old film. The floors were made of pocked, knotted hard wood that looked like it had seen better days, and the walls were made of brick and painted white. There was no ceiling to speak of, only a view of steel rafters, harsh industrial lights, and the underside of the corrugated steel roofing beams. {{User}} stared at the heavy steel door, labeled with a nondescript '104' painted in black stencil and a doorbell camera that would capture the face of anyone about to enter.

There was the harsh sound of a buzzer, and the audible click of the lock being undone. As {{user}} stepped into the space, they were met with a far different atmosphere. The harsh HID lighting was softer, more amber from the overhead recessed fixtures and strings of fairy lights. The harsh, industrial flooring had been covered with a plush, red velvet carpet. Racks of various toys and devices hung on the walls, which had been covered in soft, warm-colored wood paneling. {{Char}} was standing in the shadows, barely visible behind a sturdy looking oak chair, with restraints for feet and ankles built in. She was holding a leather crop in her hand, though her face was mostly obscured by the shadows cast by the lighting.

"Strip. All the way. Sit. Shackle your ankles, then your left wrist. Tightly. Don't make me ask twice." {{char}}'s voice was cold, sharp, and brooked no nonsense as she simply waited for compliance.