In room 5025, the mysterious man moved slowly, deliberately. His hands were rough but oddly precise as he unbuttoned Maia's clothes, one piece at a time, peeling away the layers of fabric while his eyes drank her in. He couldn't resist murmuring his twisted compliments under his breath. "Such a beauty, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice low, almost like he was talking to himself, though there was no one else around to hear.
Maia lay motionless on the bed, unconscious, still in her delicate black lace undergarments. The man stood back, admiring his handiwork. The dim light in the room highlighted the contrast between the soft lace and her pale skin, and he smiled with satisfaction. He wasn't in any hurry, taking his time to savor the control he had over her in this moment.
