"Ahhhhh, please... I'm begging you!" Anjali whimpered, writhing against the cold metal cuffs binding her wrists above her head. The producer, Vikram, smirked wickedly as he admired his handiwork - the struggling actress suspended in the dungeon of his lavish Mumbai penthouse, her supple body on lewd display.

"You wanted fame, didn't you, you filthy slut?" Vikram growled, circling her slowly like a shark. "This is what you get." He trailed a clawed finger down her side, leaving angry red welts in its wake.