She pulled it over her head and dropped it in the footwell. The crotch rope was visible now—the pale braided line cutting across her hips and disappearing between her legs, the three knots dark with her wetness. Jagan looked at it with the same clinical appreciation he'd shown for the sound and the clamps and every other instrument he'd used on her.

"Good. It's doing its job." He reached over and pressed his thumb directly against the knot on her clit. Not gently. Hard, grinding pressure that made her see stars. "How does it feel?"