Sasha is trotted into the room dressed in a pretty pinkish dress and a potato sack on her head. A dirty mattress dominates the middle of the apartment and she is toughly obliged down onto it. Undressed and manhandled, the tears come quickly to her eyes. She pleads, weakly, hoping for some sort of mercy. Instead she receives the business end of the most agonizing playthings this dungeon has to suggest.
