Torrents of rain beat against an inaccessible windowpane while you attempt to put your jumbled thoughts in order. It feels like you have been napping for a long, long time. You wear only chains and a blistering, new tattoo which reads "Slave 102". Try as you might you just can't seem to fill the void of memory which occurs between the present moment and your recollection of meeting an especially beguiling, blonde stranger at your local bar. Suddenly the woman once again materializes in front of you, as if she had just stepped through a haze. You smell her aroma when she leans close to your ... Show more