~ISLA PARAÍSO~ fiction by Van ©2005 art by Dea ©2005
			Chapter 2

To see the actresses I would cast in an ISLA PARAÍSO motion picture, follow the link below, and use your browser's "Back" feature to return.   Please ignore any characters that have not yet appeared in the story.  ☺

To summarize:
        Trip to the island—Sucked!
        Comandante Lucia—Mean!
        Rosa—BEAUTIFUL!
        Door—Locked!

I rattled the doorknob one last time, then stomped over to a comfortable easy chair and flopped down.  My options at that point were limited.  (Duh!)  I considered and discarded the idea of throwing a teary-eyed fit.  I was tired and frazzled from the trip, and emotionally on edge from being in a foreign place, especially after that trick Lucia played on me.  But you know me, "adaptable Lori".  So, the door was defective.  Big deal!

It's not like I was trapped in a dungeon.  This was a Presidential Suite, with a fully-stocked pantry and bar.

Bar!

I scrambled to my feet, headed for said bar, and fixed myself a potent gin and tonic.  I paused several seconds to let the ice do its work, then took a sip.  Yum!  I walked out on the balcony, enjoying the Gulf breeze.  Teary-eyed fit?  Maybe later.

Continuing to nurse my drink, I sauntered into the bathroom and began filling the tub.  I stripped off my skirt, top, pantyhose, bra, and panties, making a mental note to ask Rosa about the castle's laundry arrangements.  As the tub filled, a quiet chime sounded.  I walked over, and found a small touch screen set in the tiles next to the tub had begun to glow.  The menu was in Spanish, but I touched a small Union Jack icon, and it flashed into English.  This wasn't just a bath tub, it was a spa!  I selected massaging bubbles, bath salts, and continuous heat, then settled into the water.

Glorioski, it was good!  I turned into a sweating, totally relaxed, exquisitely clean lump of happy camper in no time.  But eventually, it was too much of a good thing.  My toes and fingers were pruney, and I was in serious danger of falling asleep.

I climbed out of the tub and dried my body and hair.  I still hadn't unpacked, but the bathroom was fully equipped with blow dryer, brushes, combs, etc.  I completed my toilette and wandered into the bedroom.

The bed was huge, an ornately carved, dark-stained, four-poster with curtains of nearly transparent mosquito netting.  Very "Tropical Gothic".  I pulled back the counterpane and found satin sheets in a rich teal.  It's just a guess, but the thread count must have been over 500!  I yawned, and slid between the cool sheets... and it was like being caressed over every square inch of my body!  It was wonderful!

Needless to say, after a little stretching and snuggling, I was out like the proverbial light.

If that dinner bell Rosa warned me about ever rang, I missed it.

The next thing I knew... Rosa was smiling down at me through a part in the mosquito netting.  Her hair was up, with a few ribbon-like, dangling curls framing her beautiful face.  She was wearing a full-length designer gown of shimmering silver silk.  It hugged her perfect body like a glove, its spaghetti straps and low décolletage showcasing her smooth shoulders and full breasts.

"Wake up, Lazy Bones," she purred, a teasing smile on her tastefully glossed lips.  "You missed the dinner bell.  If the Marquesa were here, she would have you punished."

I sat up, exposing my breasts.  I blushed, and lifted the top sheet to cover myself.  "I... The door was locked!" I explained.  (Never mind the lack of logic.)

Rosa tugged the mosquito netting open to either side, pulled the top sheet from my grasp, and helped me stand.  "My mistake," she said.  "Many of the doors in the castle lock automatically, and I forgot to disable the bolt in your door.  I apologize."

"Lock automatically?"

Rosa led me towards the walk-in closet.  "It is best if you do not enter any rooms with closed doors, unless I say is okay.  You may become trapped, and it might be some time before I find you.  The castle is very large, no?"

I nodded absently.  Rosa handed me a black silk thong, which I hurriedly donned.  She then looked my otherwise nude (and embarrassed) self up and down with a critical eye.

"You have a very beautiful body," Rosa purred.  "Large breasts, narrow waist, firm tummy.  Very beautiful."

"Thanks," I mumbled, blushing like an idiot.

Rosa smiled, then turned her attention to the wardrobe.  "One cannot go wrong with a simple black sheath," said, and pulled a long black gown from a hanger.  It was sleeveless, with a tight bodice and an open back.  She dropped it over my head and it slithered down my body.  I settled the cups over my breasts, she zipped it closed, then tightened a set of narrow, black laces that criss-crossed my bare back, tightening the bodice and making the fit snug and secure.  A final bow was tied, and she led me to a set of full-length mirrors.

Chrissy, you know I'm not a clothes horse, but I looked hot!  The gown fit me perfectly.

"Very pretty!" Rosa whispered, and kissed my cheek.

I blushed again, but she was already leading me into the bathroom and probably didn't notice.  She grabbed a brush and ran it through my hair.

"No need for makeup," Rosa decided.  "With your pretty face and these wonderful red curls, nothing is needed.  Come, the food will be cold."

Again with the "red" hair!  "Brown!" I blurted as Rosa grabbed my hand again and led be towards the bedroom door.

"Brown?"

"Lucia called my hair red," I explained.  "It's brown."

Rosa laughed.  "You have the most red hair on the island, Lorelai," she said.  "Everything is relative, no?"

Dinner was delicious.  Yucatan-style seafood.  (Most Americans say "Mexican" when they mean "Tex-Mex".  The regional Mexican cuisines are all very different.)  Anyway, Rosa can cook!  Of course, when the Marquesa's in town, the kitchens have a full staff.  But as caretaker, Rosa makes do with small, regular deliveries of fresh fish, meat, poultry, and veggies from the village.  I understand most of the world is like that, using what's fresh and available, rather than obsessing with preset menus.  Anyway, you're the World Traveler, Chrissy, so you'd know.  Suffice it to say the castle food is healthy and delicious.

I won't bore you with more hour-to-hour details.  Over the next few days, things settled into a routine.  Rosa cooks for two, and she insists I join her for her daily exercise.  You know me.  I enjoy staying in shape, so this was no hardship.  Jogging around the castle itself isn't very practical, so we'd go running through the jungle.  The trails are primitive but safe, with the emphasis on hill work.  Some trails wind up to the cloud-forest below the central peaks, and some all the way down to the Gulf beaches, where we'd often add a swim to the routine.  We'd run in shorts and sports tops, with trail-runners on our feet, and swim au naturel.  This was embarrassing at first, but Rosa quickly eroded my Maidenly Propriety.  ☺

We continued "dressing" for dinner, and I learned to fix my face and arrange my hair in quick time.  With Rosa as drill sergeant, the first days were sort of Haute Couture boot camp. There are something like two dozen gowns on the rack in my closet, and (so far), every one of them is stunning, make me look stunning (or so Rosa says), and fit perfectly.

About my work.  I know your eyes glaze over when I start talking about systems stuff, so I'll keep the explanations to a minimum.  The castle has all the modern services and conveniences.  The problem is they've been installed over many decades.  There have been regular upgrades, and everything's properly maintained, but it's been a patchwork of different controls and systems, and nothing's integrated.

This causes problems.  The air-pump system can decide it needs to close an intake in the lower chambers, and thereby cause a small tornado to blow through one of the towers.  The emergency system starts closing all the windows, storm doors, and flues in sequence, in response to an approaching hurricane, and the place starts whistling like a pipe organ and blowing ash from all the hearths.

A year ago, upgraded controls for all systems were installed, including a new control server, and an engineering study of the ventilation was performed to sort out the logic; but somebody still needed to write a program mapping the logic to the controls.  This would be a straightforward (but tedious) task, for someone with knowledge of object-oriented programming and systems testing.  Yes, this is a job for... Super Lori!  ☺

Anyway (if you're still awake)... from now on, when I say "work" (unless otherwise specified), I'm talking about hours of keyboarding at the new workstation in the castle utility office, drafting and compiling control programs, converting the existing code, drafting and updating the data library, running simulated and actual tests of various subsystems, etc., etc.  My daily work uniform has settled into cargo shorts, tank, and bare feet.  (Castle rules, remember?  No shoes to protect the tiles?)  I add my combination tool belt and fanny pack if tracing circuits through the castle is required.

Anyway, several days into the job, I pinged the next control box on my list, and it returned multiple faults.  I checked the location, and it wasn't on any of the castle blueprints Rosa had given me.  I had no choice but to go looking for her.

I found Rosa in the kitchen, putting away some fresh produce just delivered by one of the islanders.  She looked at the designation I'd scribbled on a scrap of paper, and smiled.  "Is down in the Marquesa's dungeons," she explained.

I blinked in surprise (and I confess a little thrill quivered through some of my favorite bodyparts).  "Dungeons?" I whispered.

Rosa laughed.  "Every castle must have dungeons, no?"  She gave me a conspiratorial wink.  "I tell you something," she said.  "I think I can trust you not to betray La Marquesa's secrets, yes?"

I nodded, and she motioned for me to sit at one of the kitchen side tables.  She prepared a pot of tea, and joined me.

"The Marquesa is a wonderful, beautiful woman," Rosa said as she poured the tea, "but her family has a long history of, how you say, naughtiness?"

"Huh?" I said (profoundly).

Rosa smiled.  "Games.  The Marquesa likes to play at being the cruel tyrant, but is all a game, you see?"  I guess she could tell from my expression I didn't see.  "She is really most kind," Rosa continued.  "The island thrives because of her kindness."

I nodded.  "But... 'cruel tyrant'?"

Rosa's smile became somewhat feral.  "In the chamber I must show you is one of her toys, a specialized piece of... furniture.  Very old.  Very expensive.   Very naughty."

Now this was intriguing.  I sipped my tea and tried not to seem too anxious.  "Cool!" I blurted (without thinking).  "Uh, I mean interesting."  (Good job, Lori!  Rosa'll never suspect a thing!)

Rosa smiled and patted my hand.  "Finish your tea and I show you."

We made a quick side trip to the distribution panel, I killed the power to the ventilation system in the area where I'd be working, and we were off.

Rosa was in one of her spaghetti-strap sundresses, her "castle uniform", and I was in my usual shorts and tank.  Ready for technological trouble, my tool belt was riding my hips.

We pattered our way down to one of the lower courtyards, and into a curving passageway.  It sloped down, past a gallery of smaller chambers set against one of the curtain walls.  All were barred with iron gates and had narrow slit windows that admitted some light.  Most were empty, but a few contained wooden crates and/or barrels.  The passage continued, leading ever downwards.  We came to a wall of iron bars, paused while Rosa unlocked a heavy gate, then continued into what was now nearly full darkness.

There were torches set in the walls, but they gave only a dim, flickering light.  The "torches" in the lower levels are neat.  All are electrical, and they have custom made bulbs with dozens of weakly glowing filament plates that do a very good job of simulating flames.  Not much good for reading, but they're just the thing for creating a creepy atmosphere without having to worry about fuel burning out, or dying from carbon monoxide poisoning.

Anyway, we left the sun far behind (and above), and descended a set of spiral stairs to another gallery of chambers.  All of these had solid timber doors braced with ornate iron bands, and were secured with massive bolts and antique locks.  My best guess was we were now about three levels below the main courtyard, but it's hard to tell.  The castle is a 3-D maze.

Rosa unlocked one of the doors (seemingly at random), pulled back the bolt, put her shoulder to the heavy portal, and heaved.  I scrambled to help, but she already had it open.  She reached in beside the door frame, lifted a steel cover painted to mimic the stone, and threw a set of switches, one by one.  Flickering, artificial candles began glowing in dozens of small niches set high in all four walls.  In addition, spotlights sunk into the ceiling glowed to life and illuminated the "specialized piece of furniture" Rosa had warned me about.

It was a pillory and stocks!  Everything was made of thick, heavy timbers, well-braced and cunningly joined.  The pillory had the required openings for wrists and neck, and was fixed at a height of about three feet.  The ankle stocks, pitched forward a few degrees from the vertical, were set behind the pillory and a foot above the floor.  In between, a heavy horizontal pole (nearly a log) was solidly braced, parallel to the pillory and stocks.  In addition, the frame incorporated a system of wooden gears, cogs, chains, and counterweights.

It was beautiful.  There was no carving, and the iron bracing was utilitarian and simple, but the proportions were exquisite.  The wood was deeply stained, smooth, and varnished.  It was some species of tropical hardwood, possibly teak.

Rosa watched for several seconds as I admired the device (a coy smile on her face), then stepped forward and began turning a large wheel.  Gears began turning; chains meshed and snapped taut; weights dropped, and the pillory and stocks opened, the upper halves rising on iron worm gears glistening with grease.  "I show you how it works," Rosa purred, tucked the hem of her dress in the cloth belt cinching her bodice, and climbed atop the contraption!

I watched in open-mouthed awe as she slid her ankles through the open stocks, arched her feet and wiggled her toes, and let a pair of angled blocks take her weight.  There were broad, thick loops of brown leather inside the ankle holes, but they were loose, apparently there to serve as lining for the timber holes.  She bent over the horizontal pole, slid her hands and head through the leather loops inside the pillory openings, and settled her wrists and neck in place.  "Turn the wheel," she said.

"Huh?"  (It was my day for snappy comebacks.)

Rosa laughed.  "Turn the wheel," she repeated.  "The other way."

I snapped out of my daze, stepped forward, and followed her orders.  The gears turned, the chains and weights did their thing, and the upper halves of the pillory and stocks settled into place with a solid thud.

Rosa was leaning forward.  Her legs (her long, brown, smooth, strong, beautiful legs) were stretched taut, and her back was parallel to the floor.  She fluttered her fingers, twisted, struggled, and strained.  "You see?" she said.  "Perfect for the whipping, and the tickling, and the teasing, no?"

"Uh..."  I closed my mouth (again) and nodded.  (She was so beautiful, and so helpless!)

"Of course," Rosa continued, "I should be naked, but this is only the demonstration."

"Uh... yeah," I said.  I walked a slow circuit around the apparatus and its victim.  (So beautiful, so helpless!)  The stocks held her ankles about two feet apart.  Her skirt had hiked up in the back, and I could just see the silk-covered bulge of her sex.   (So beautiful!)

"The junction box you are looking for is the other side of the door," Rosa said.

"Huh?  Oh!"  I grabbed the wheel and gave it a quick spin.  The stocks and pillory slowly opened, lifting on their turning gears to release my beautiful Rosa.

She climbed off the machine, and restored the drape of her skirts.  "There, now you see.  Very naughty, no?"  She then pointed to the wall.

I stepped in the direction indicated, and squinted in the dim light.  Most of the chamber was dark.  Only the area under the spots was adequately lit.  I pulled a small flashlight from my belt, twisted it on, and discovered a cleverly camouflaged steel box.  Like the switch cover on the opposite side of the door, it was tucked into the wall and painted to match the stone.

"I leave the doors and gates open," Rosa said from the doorway.  "You find your way back, no?"

"Yeah," I answered.  "I won't get lost."

Rosa smiled, and left me to my work.

I pulled out a screwdriver and opened the junction box, then used my tester to confirm that the power was off.  It didn't take long to find the problem.  Whoever had installed the wiring must have been in a hurry.  Half the paddle-type contacts were loose, and several had actually popped open.  I used alcohol and a swab to clean all the contacts, one-by-one, then carefully snapped them into place and tightened the contact screws.

This only took a few minutes, and all the while my mind was on the piece of "furniture" behind me.  I kept looking over my shoulder.  It really is a work of art, Chrissy.  Us engineers appreciate stuff like that, ya know?

Finally, the job was finished (at least until I went back upstairs, restored the power, and could ping the box again).  I closed and screwed down the cover, then stood, slapped the dirt from my knees, and started out the door.

I didn't make it.

I turned back and gazed at the pillory and stocks, then went back into the room and walked another slow circuit, admiring the clever design and the glow of the polished wood.  I couldn't stand it!  I just had to see what it was like!

I eased the door closed (for no good reason other than privacy (and the fantasy of being locked in!)), then dropped my tool belt to the floor.  It was soon joined by my tank, shorts, panties, and bra.  (After all, Rosa did say the "victim" was supposed to be naked.)

I pattered over to the object of my fascination, and turned the wheel.  Smooth and nearly silent, the mechanism turned and the pillory and stocks opened.  I took a deep breath, and climbed into place.  I slid my ankles through the leather loops and against the deep, smooth channels of the lower stocks.  My feet were on pointe with my toes resting on the inclined blocks.  I leaned forward.  The pole was hard and smooth and cunningly shaped and positioned to cradle my upper body, pressing against my lower belly between my navel and sex.  I leaned even farther forward, slid my hands and head through the leather loops of the pillory, and rested my wrists and neck in the slots.  They were deep, taking my wrists from hand to mid-forearm, and almost my entire neck, nearly from chin to shoulders.

I wasn't really helpless, of course, but I could pretend I was.  I felt the loose straps around my ankles, wrists, and neck, and wiggled and twisted my body, imagining they were taut and tight, that the heavy timbers had lowered and locked, and I was a prisoner!  I was getting very hot and bothered.  I believe the technical term is 'horny'.  (See also "lustful", "libidinous", "concupiscent", and "aroused".)

I shifted my weight on my toes—and it happened!

There was a loud ping, and the blocks under my toes dropped away!  At the same time, the straps snapped taut, the gears and chains rattled and turned, and the upper pillory and stock timbers began to slowly drop.  "No!"  I struggled in earnest, but the straps held me tight.  I bucked and squirmed, but the heavy timbers slowly, inevitably, settled into place.

I was truly, actually, for real, and not pretend... helpless!

Long minutes of semi-panicked struggling ensued.  Autoeroticism was now the furthermost thing from my highly embarrassed, mortified, (and terrified) little mind.  Escape was the only thing I was interested in, and I sought it with all my energy.

Lifting the pillory's upper timber was a laughable impossibility.  I strained with my back, abs, and legs, until I was panting, flushed, and "glowing" with sweat.  I didn't know if the timbers and straps had been locked by the mechanism in some way, but I could tell it was probably a moot issue.  I couldn't have lifted that weight from that position, whether they were locked or not.

"Oh!"  I finally relaxed in the apparatus' grip, feeling very sorry for myself.  How could I be so stupid?  Okay, the damn Infernal Machine was like a dish of honey to my bee, but still...

Time passed, and the inevitable happened.  I heard the door squeal open, felt a gentle breeze on my legs, heinie, and back, and heard Rosa's laugh.  My cheeks burned and I bit my lower lip.

Rosa strolled into my rather limited view, still laughing.  "A naughty machine, and a naughty girl," she purred.  The smile on her face made me blush even brighter (and that pesky thrill of arousal shivering through my sex was back).  "Haven't you heard about curiosity and the cat?"  She reached out and arranged my tousled hair to either side of my mortified face.  "Such a naughty, inquisitive little pussy," she whispered, leaned forward, and kissed my lips.  "What do you have to say for yourself?" she demanded, still smiling.

"I... I wanted to see what it was like," I admitted.  Rosa nodded, and stepped from my view.  "Rosa?" I whispered.  I heard and felt the vibrations of her turning a wheel, but rather than being released from my bondage, I felt the pole under my tummy begin to slowly rise!  "Rosa!" I complained, but was ignored.  The pole continued rising until my legs were stretched full length, and my naked rear was now a few inches above my imprisoned head.

"There," Rosa said.  I heard a click and a snap, and she stepped back into view.  "Now you see what it is like.  The wheels are locked..."  She slid the hasp of a heavy, antique padlock through a pair of staples in the upper and lower pillory, and snapped it closed.  "...and so is the pillory."

"Rosa!" I whined, tugging on my wrists and ankles.  I was still what I'd have to call comfortable (more or less), but my back, butt, and legs were almost completely immobilized.  Also, with the blocks under my feet gone, my toes were dancing in mid-air.

Rosa stepped to the side and I flinched in my bonds.  Her fingertips were sliding down my back.  Her touch was light and teasing, and continued down my spine, right butt cheek, and right leg.

"Please!" I begged.  "Please let me go."

"Oh... not just yet," she cooed.  "Naughty girls who play with the Marquesa's toys without permission must be punished.  Don't you think?"

"No—ahh!  Stop!"  She was tickling my right foot!  I squirmed and struggled (and my sex quivered).  Plea—ahh!  She'd shifted her attention to my left foot.  The tickling stopped (Thank god!) and her fingers slid up my left leg, left buttocks, and back to my spine.  Then she stepped back into view.

"So, Lorelai is curious," Rosa whispered.  "Maybe you would like to play with some the Marquesa's other toys, yes?"

"No!" I answered.  "Let me go!"

Rosa's smile turned chillingly evil.  "Are you sure, Lorelai?  I think you do.  You just need a little persuasion to admit the truth.  Maybe I should tickle your feet some more, or spank your pretty nalgas."

"No!" I whined.

"No?" Rosa asked, and again strolled from view.  "I think you really mean 'yes'.  You want me to show you all of La Marquesa's toys, don't you?"

"No—ooh!"  She was tickling my feet again!  "No!  Stop!  Please Rosa!  No!  No!  Yes!"

"You are sure?"

"Yes!" I screamed.  "Yes, yes, YES!"

Rosa strolled back into view.  "I knew it!" she gushed.  "A curious pussy like you, my Lorelai... how could you not?  You are a very wicked girl to lie to Rosa in such a way."

"I... Please let me go now, okay?"  Rosa had stepped to the side, and was returning with some sort of leather strappy thing.  "What's that?" I demanded.

"To let you truly experience the 'Whipping Couch', we must use all the accessories."

It was a gag!  "Rosa, no—m'mrf!"  A leather plug slid between my teeth and filled my mouth.  Pins snapped and locked into holes in the timber on either side of my face, a leather cup captured my chin, a band slithered across my forehead, and several small buckles were tightened.  The pillory was already limiting my ability to turn my head, and the gag harness completed the job.  Now, all I could do was flutter my fingers, roll my eyes, wiggle my toes, and clench my buttocks.

Rosa stepped to the side again, I heard wood scrape on stone, and she returned with a low wooden bench.  She arranged it a few feet in front of my face, then stepped away again.  I heard what was probably a trunk lid opening, and she returned to drop a series of items on the bench, one at a time.  My eyes popped wide and I moaned through my gag as the first item appeared.

"This is a 'Flogger'," Rosa explained as she dropped the item.  It had a braided leather handle ending in several long, inch-wide strips.  "For the back, nalgas, thighs, and legs."

She dropped a smaller version of the flogger.  It was much shorter, and its dozen or more strips were thin as shoelaces.  "A 'Thong Whip', for the sex and feet.  It stings like the angry wasp."

Next came a broad, stiff leather flap with a braided handle.  "The 'Spanking Paddle', of course.  Very good for making the nalgas red like the cherry."

A long, thin, stiff rod with a braided handle, and a fluttering, leaf-shaped tip was next.  "The 'Riding Crop'," she purred, "for, how you say, the touching up, here and there?"

She stepped away, and returned to set two small glass vessels on the bench.  One was a flask of amber oil with a glass stopper.  She removed the stopper and waved it under my nose.  A pleasant, musky, floral scent filled the air.  "Oil for rubbing on the skin," Rosa explained, and returned the stopper to the flask.

She then pointed to the second, much smaller flask.  I could see its stopper incorporated an applicator brush, and it contained a clear fluid.  "This is a different oil altogether, distilled from the stinging nettle.  When it is painted on the labia... first it burns like fire... then there is the most disturbing itch.  It makes the rose petals pink and plump and very sensitive.  And when the whip follows...  It is heaven and hell together, Lorelai.  You want to die... even as you cum as you have never cum before."

Rosa knelt close to my gagged and pinioned face, and smiled into my very wide and frightened eyes.  "Oh, do not worry, my Lorelai," she cooed and gestured towards the bench.  "This display is only for show.  However, you must be punished for being such a curious pussy, so..."  She leaned close, nibbled my right ear lobe, and continued in a husky whisper.  "No lunch for you, naughty, wicked girl.  Your work is finished for the day."

She stood and stepped from view.  Seconds later, the spotlights shining on my helpless, naked body clicked off, one by one.  Only the dozens of artificial candles weakly flickering in their high niches remained, along with a single weak spot centered on the display of "accessories" under my nose.

I flinched in my bonds as I felt Rosa's hand lightly cup my sex.  "So very wet," she observed.  (Believe me, Chrissy, I was!)  "I leave you now, Lorelai," Rosa continued, her fingers lightly caressing my labia, "but this time, I lock all the doors and gates."  I shuddered as her hand gave my flushed nether-lips one last caress.  "I return your clothes to your room, of course.  I come for you before dinner, in time for you to shower and dress."  I heard the door to the chamber beginning to close.  "I'm holding you to your promise, Lorelai," Rosa said.  "We will have much fun, for La Marquesa has many toys."

I shivered in my helplessness and mewed through my gag as the door thudded closed.  The bolt slid home, the key turned the lock... then silence.  Total and complete silence.

I gazed down at the whips, paddle, crop, and flasks of oil.

Toys?  Could she really hold me to a "promise" made under tickle torture?  Was Rosa really going to do "fun" stuff to me?  Bondage stuff?  Kinky stuff?  ...and did I really mind?