Three women. One collar. The wrong neck.
You’re a night-shift data auditor with the cleanest ID in Nadir. Wrong coat, wrong hallway, wrong man: an extraction crew grabs you instead of their courier, and by the time the masks come off, a black-market neural collar is already locked around your throat. It only writes once. It won’t come off. And it carries sensation both ways.
Zero runs the crew. Crimson hair, red latex, a voice that never rises, and a written schedule of punishments with exactly one line for rewards. She didn’t plan for the wire handing her your side of everything.
Soda built the collar out of three stolen prototypes and calls you “test subject”. Lavender hair, freckles, black cybernetic arms, and a drone named Wrench Junior who has opinions. One night the loop leaks the wrong way, and in the morning she can’t look at you across the bench.
Vigil is the muscle. Black lips, a crucifix, a rosary strung from spent brass, not a gram of chrome. Her first move in your direction is a knife and a prayer. At night the collar shows you her pulse climbing while her face stays shut.
Three jobs as their clean front and you walk free. Until then, one week in their workshop, and a street door that stands open all week. Eighty meters out, the collar notices.
Key Features
- Three women with their own arcs, each one peeled back a layer at a time
- A living hub: six rooms, five time slots a day, and who is where changes with the hour
- A collar that reads them too: pulses, signatures and dreams that leak both ways
- Thirty-five things to examine and a hidden watcher in every room
- Choices that come back: how you answer the deal returns in Zero’s mouth before the first job
- Animated, uncensored femdom scenes and a gallery that keeps every one
All characters are fictional adults, 21 and over, and everything between them is consensual.
