PD doesn’t bother to explain to Iona Grace why she is enduring such torment. He has company coming, and she must be ready for them. If they wish to inflict pain, she must learn to endure it. If they desire her body, she must be able to satisfy their every need. PD is determined to prepare her in the only way he knows—by using her as thoroughly as his guests will. Iona’s heart pounds with fear and anticipation as she contemplates her fate. PD’s cold, unyielding demeanor offers no solace, only a chilling reminder of what is to come. He begins her preparation with ruthless efficiency, pushing her limits with every touch, every command. The sting of his hand, the bite of his tools, all blend into a symphony of agony and surrender. Each moment feels eternal as she learns to submit, to relinquish control completely. Her body and mind are shaped by his exacting standards, her protests silenced, her pleas ignored. PD’s rigorous training is harsh but effective, molding her into the perfect vessel for his guests’ desires. As the night approaches, Iona trembles, knowing she is ready to face whatever awaits her. As Iona's screams harmonize with the darkness, I, PD, find solace in the shadows. In this abyss, I've discovered a twisted spirituality - a oneness with the pain and submission. The sting of my hand, the bite of my tools, are mere extensions of my will, shaping Iona into a masterpiece of surrender. In her brokenness, I find enlightenment, a sense of purpose that transcends the flesh. The night's darkness is my cathedral, and Iona's agony, my prayer.