Time stopped meaning anything.

Ananya remained bent over the low wooden trunk exactly as he had left her. The ring gag forced her jaw wide open; saliva ran in a continuous thin stream from the corners of her stretched lips, down her chin, and onto the dusty wood beneath her cheek. The leather collar sat snug around her throat, the short chain trailing somewhere in front of her. Her wrists were bound tightly behind her back, the rope biting into her skin every time she shifted even slightly. The blindfold stole every trace of light. In the absolute darkness her other senses sharpened until they hurt — the cool stone under her knees, the rough wood against her bare breasts and stomach, the thick scent of dust and sex and her own arousal, the slow, humiliating trickle of her father’s cum still leaking from her open ass and running down the insides of her thighs.