..Where in God's name am I? Rolling my head to the left andright to see where I am, and then raising my head as far up as I can to seeas far down as I could--over the top of those damn ruffles--I saw I was inwhat looked to be a master bedroom-sized, windowless room. Of course thewalls were pink...some kind of patterned wallpaper. What little furniturethere was in the room all was two-toned pink, with the exception of thewhite floor lamps...somebody really liked pink!I would have to guess that this was a room in some renovated basement,although there was no way of knowing for sure. The lack of windows told methat...well...where else would you have a room in a house with no windows? Assuming this was a house...God, I had no idea. Wherever it was, it lookedlike there is no point of yelling or screaming anymore...obviously, no onewas going to hear my muffled yelling here. The room itself was too wellpremeditated for the designer not to have thought about noise suppression.I just lay. He arranged to call the man for the return trip in the wee small hours, and then they climbed the staircase to the main door. A liveried butler answered and the great doors closed effortlessly behind them as they stood in the front hall of the biggest mansion she had been in so far in her life. A secretary greeted him, took her lead and led them into an anteroom, without much more than glancing at her he said; “Remove her tracksuit, then toilet her,” pointing at a cloakroom hidden discretely in the corner “and be ready in ten minutes” he left them to prepare, and in short order her would be pimp, ensured she was empty, and standing in high heels, her lacy knickers and matching bra (with at his insistence its straps off her shoulders,) the deep collar and cuffs her hands re-secured behind her. She told him “she thought he had been joking!”His reply that this was on her wish list and to go with the flow; did little to ease her butterfly stomach. It was a long ten minutes,.
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