I wake up in what I can only refer to as The Pinkest Room in the World. The room is so pink that the first thing I do after opening my eyes is close them. The ceiling is pink. The walls are pink. The chandelier is pink. The bedsheet is pink. Argh. My head hurts. I want to massage my temples but something is stopping my hands from moving. What in the wor—why are my wrists strapped to the bed? And my legs. Lifting my head from the pillow, I see equally pink straps locking my ankles to the posts of the bed too. What is this? And where am I?

The sense of panic is slow to rise but when it does, it comes in a rush and I scream, “Help! Somebody, help!”

“Shut up, noisy and stupid human.”

“Ms Pink! Why am I strapped down? Please let me go.”

Ms Pink leans over me, her nose hovering a whisker from my face. She sniffs, frowns, and sticks her nose into the crook of my neck.

“W-What are you doing?”

Ms Pink looks up and I really want to lean away from her but I can’t. “Keep still.”

My nerves are too shot to obey and I squirm. “Please tell me what’s going on. Where am I?”

The only answer I get is the tip of her nose tracing a line down the side of my neck as she sniffs her way down to my chest. She hovers a little longer over my heart and I can’t help jerking when her palm presses on my stomach.

Ms Pink frowns again. “Stop moving or I’ll punish you.”

Punish me? Why does it sound so scary? Oh my God, somebody please help me! My worrying thoughts unsettle me and I fidget, unable to hold still. Holy creeps, Ms Pink is sniffing lower and lower…

A sigh of relief escapes me when she stops just before it gets too personal. I mean, the last thing I want is someone sniffing around…there.

“Can I be freed now? Please?” Instead of answering me, Ms Pink leans over me again and proceeds to push my blouse up. Now this situation is beginning to look very, very¸ wrong. “Stop. Stop! What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, no! Please, don’t!”

My pleas might as well be vapour—as ‘effective’ as they are, and I freeze up when Ms Pink pushes my not-meant-for-viewing bra out of the way. Oh my God. Is she going to…to…I can’t even bring myself to think those words. Fingers glide down my skin, collarbone to the valley between my…bosom, before circling my navel. This is confusing. Is she not going to…violate me? Or is she already violating me?

I have never gone out of the way to get myself laid but now I wish I had. If only I had some prior experience to fall back on. But I don’t, and I am confused. Am I supposed to feel a fluttering in my chest when an attractive but scary woman is running her fingers all over my body after strapping me to a bed and stripping me? Or am I supposed to be screaming bloody murder and trying my best to get away? Why am I not repulsed? My mind seems to be detached, floating weightlessly in space.

Those fingers come to a stop just above my hips and Ms Pink leans closer, her warm breath hitting my skin, activating the goosebump production line. Is this the cold or fear or excitement talking?

“Were you born with this?”

I look at the spot Ms Pink is pressing on and nod. “Yes, I’ve had that mole since birth.”

“Stupid human. It’s not a mole.”

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