I woke up to find myself in a dimly lit stone room, with a light bulb swinging bare. A dank odour of sweat, semen and blood assaulted my nostrils, turning my stomach. My long, unkempt hair dripped sweat into my eyes, burning them. As I try to clear my face of the hair, I realise that I am separately bound by my arms and legs, leaving me open. I am also completely exposed, and a cold draught runs through a hole in the upper corner of the room.

A crackle emerges from a speaker system behind me, coldly saying: “Room 249, detainee number 58. Prepare for first session.”

And with that, an old iron lock clunked open and I heard the creak of a door, and several paced, methodical steps of heels on stone. Her breath warmed the back of my neck. Resting her head on my shoulders, I heard her almost sultry voice echo across the room as she dictated: “Well, well, well. Looks like I’ve got another toy to play with. I was getting ever so-” I interrupted.

“T-toy? Who are you, what is this place?” That was the first of many mistakes I would make that night. She slapped me hard across the face, her long, sharp, polished nails digging in to my cheeks.

“You will learn, toy, not to interrupt me. Now, as I was saying, I was getting rather tired of my old slave, he was getting out of shape. So useless he was. I, as you may have guessed if you have anything between your ears, am your new owner. You will refer to me as ‘mistress’. I will refer to you as whatever I please. Got it, bitch?”

“What is this place? Who are you? Why am I here?” She sighed, replying,

“This, my little pet, is a dungeon. It’s your new home, you’d better get used to it.