Red Chair

Through teeth almost clamped shut in tension you manage to indicate the red crystal. The Jester gives only the tiniest grunt. Surprise? Satisfaction? You can't tell. And you barely have time to think about it before he reaches down to move a large pin from one hole in the mechanics beneath you to another. Immediately the spin of the bench slows and stops, and it slips from the rotating section smoothly along the track leading away beneath the chair design. As you pass, the light changes from a deep red to a lighter shade, and by the time you are through the curtain and once again up to a quick a walking speed, the light around you is more pink than red. It Whitens and fades even beyond that with each globe studding the surface above you leaving you wishing you could shade your eyes. The floor beneath is wooden, and the walls around you quickly begin to match it, becoming panelled and solid. The floor rises in a slope which you ascend without any discernible difficulty, a set of stairs alongside allowing the Jester to follow without apparent effort. It's eyes watch your naked body hungrily it seems to you. The floating orb buzzes it’s way around you, seemingly impossible to shake.

You reach the end of the slope and go around a corner into a mostly bare and yet well presented room. The wooden panels continue around the lower half of the walls, painted plaster above separated by a shallow shelf which runs around the room. A door is set in the far corner. Globes on the high ceiling and clusters of candles at intervals along the shelf produce plenty of flickering light. The most eye catching detail is the high backed red leather chair near the centre of the room. It faces toward you, sitting on the edge of a large rug over polished floorboards. Several cushions are scattered on the rug. The room is warm at least.

The bench drifts to a halt and locks into place at the end of the track with a click. The Jester shows no sign of fatigue from the climb and quickly reaches down to do something unseen to the mechanism beneath you. Almost immediately the bonds holding you retract smoothly into the bench, leaving you free to move.

You sit up unsteadily, stretching gingerly. Everything aches and your head spins after lying flat for so long. You are given little time to rest though, a leather glove on your arm ushering you in shaky steps over to the chair. You study it apprehensively, given its image as your earlier choice. It seems normal enough at first glance, a thick mahogany frame and back, padded across the arms and seat with thick horizontal rolls of red leather about the width of your wrist. It has metallic foot rests and a hint of some kind of mechanism beneath it however, and it comes as little surprise when, upon sitting, your ankles are bound securely to the foot rests by the Jester. Your seat is comfortable enough however as you nestle your naked self into the pads, and no other bonds secure you. You keep your knees pressed together chastely and cross your arms across your breasts, You are, if not quite relaxed, then at least less fearful than almost any point since you woke. You remind yourself to remain on your guard, and that no doubt your enemies have Plans for you.