Chapter Thirty-seven
The Rowing Machine
The next morning, all the usual things happened, but this time when I was drawn into the exercise chamber, Babs took me to the Galley Oar Machine. I stared at it with fear while being moved over to it, terrified of what I would be compelled to do.
It was a simple arrangement. There was a wide, metal bench set high above the floor, dished and grooved to accept my buttocks and the crotch plate’s dividing strap. The seat was equipped with chains on each side, while overhead, another hung from the ceiling. Sticking out of a long slot in a steel panel beside the seat was a thick ‘oar’, probably five cm in diameter, located forward and lower. About two cm in from its outer end was a pair of sturdy links; perhaps five cm long, down from a welded staple,
