“Well ... What can you do in there?”
“I can’t do anything except what Mistress Babs permits or requires of me!”
“Oh, OK,” she said beginning to look frightened, “I can understand that because you’re her prisoner, but what do you do to keep from going totally crazy?”
“I-I used to have a website.” I replied, thinking regretfully about how long ago it was, and how much I’d enjoyed receiving email and writing it. “Then, I used to have to do work for Master and Mistress, but that has stopped, and now all I do is h-hard labour.” Unstoppable tears slid down my rubber facemask, leaving glistening tracks.
“What?” she asked, astonished.
“Mistress Babs comes every morning and takes me into the Exercise Chamber. You can see the door in the wall behind me.”
“But what kind of hard labour do you do
