We lounge around the table, over coffee or espresso.Finally, we walk down to the dungeon. She has lit candles around the large room. That personal tou...h was not in the orders given her. The candles give the dungeon a romantic, dreamy appearance. My eyes are drawn towards the brazier by the fireplace. The coals are burning merrily, while Vicky, hands shaking, places the irons inside them. She will be strapped to the torture table, much like Candy yesterday. I look at the instruments she set up:. The only time she appears is at night.I will try my best to describe the first time I encountered her. It might be difficult to do so without having to take a break, but I'll try.It was my first night here, and I was trying to shake off the weird feelings that I had when I came to and realized I knew nothing about myself. I was on the brink of sleep, when I heard something that made me alert immediately, knowing I wasn't alone in the house. It was a moan.I quietly made myself out of the master. “The theory is that by the time you wake up – you will feel like you’ve spent a day in one of those health spas. You’ll feel fresh and rested and supple, you’ll feel wonderful – or so I am told.”“I really hope so,” she said worriedly as she stood up.She picked up her trousers and bent to slip them back on. “My feet and legs don’t even feel damp!” She exclaimed in surprise. “I would have thought some of that Gel substance would have stayed on my skin, but not even a hint of tackiness!”She pulled. ..Stephanie fumbles to turn off the alarm and stumbles out of bed, failing to notice one of her nipples falling out of her skimpy worn nightie as she does so. She walks through her house to the bathroom, where she washes her face. She glances in the mirror at her 23-year-old self: her big wide eyes, her prominent large nose, her soft puffy lips, her long wavy blonde hair. Her big round breasts stand out like headlights on her nubile curvy body as her nightie slowly slips further down.