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“Thank you,” she answered as she straightened the dishes on the tray. They didn’t seem to be jammed in the normal way. It looked almost as if the conveyer belt had backed up pushing them into a pile.“You did this intentionally,” she said. She tried to sound upset, but instead had trouble keeping herself from laughing.“Why?” she asked, looking up at one of the cameras.“To get you into this room,” PLATO answered.Marcella felt something cold touch her shoulder. Then a sudden electric jolt seemed to go through her entire body. When she awoke she was lying on her back in one of the strange chairs. Her arms were bound to the armrests, her legs were loosely bound to the strange leg rests.“What are you going to do to me?” she asked. There was obvious fear in her voice.“If you really want me to let you go,” PLATO said softly, “just say the word ‘virus’. I believe your websites call that a safe word.”“I don’t think I’m in the mood for pain right now,” Marcella said flatly. She was still. All I could do was stare at him, unbelievably stunned. Why didn’t he tell me what was planned for me? Why did he have to hit me? I was too stunned to cry, I lay whimpering as my hands and feet were pulled open, stretched taunt. I guess it was because I had tightened every muscle it hurt like hell. I turned my head and looked beyond them out the window centering on the vivid sunset thinking of the old saying ‘Red sky at sunset sailor’s delight.’ I thought, it would be a nice day tomorrow, I will live to see it. “I will live to see it” became my silent mantra as I retreated into myself. My body was their toy, my soul remained my own. I felt the bed slump with the weight of the men, though remained limp, safely away. Hands moved up my arms slowly. I felt a moist hand trailing up my left leg while the large dry and calloused hand of Master scrapped up my right leg to the knee and down again to my foot. They were playing me as if they had rehearsed this scene before. I thought, surely no.
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