Sayoko licks her rubbery, artificial lips. "Going to need you to wake up…"

I make no response.

"You there my dear?"

I stir slightly in my sleep.

"Now now, this won't do…" She proceeds to remove my ball gag, drool covering it from when it was placed on me hours, perhaps even days ago. "Why won't you join me, hmm?"

A noise similar to speech escapes my lips, though not particularly coherent. I was strapped to that chair for quite some time, being a bit stiff was to be expected.

"What's that? You'll have to speak up…"

Muttering under my breath, I mention something about the familiarity of this situation. Being in distress was becoming too common for me these days.

"You've kept me waiting some time, my pet. You're hardly in the building anymore these days. A pity, you're such a ripe target." The tall woman grins.

"Ripe?"

"Mm, yes. So confident in her will, so sure that she cannot be broken…" Circling around the rather sturdy chair, she strokes my shoulder with a single latex-covered finger. "A simple delusion, of course."

I strain to look to her, but my head is secured to the back of the tall chair, and only my eyes are free to look around.

"Just allow my words to softly penetrate your soul…"

"Tempting." I give my best imitation of resistance.

The pinkish figure continues. "A seed of an idea,  to 'let go' and allow yourself, body and mind, to be only mine, to use as I see fit."

I shiver from her genuine speech. I at least had a passing familiarity with most of my captors, but I hadn't recognized this one before, even before my infamy.

"And wait, as time allows it to grow, the kudzu spreading through you as slowly you begin to betray yourself, becoming mine for all eternity." She giggles a little, but maintains her serenity.

She abruptly kisses me on my lips, or at least where they are painted on. I blush under the pink, airbrushed-on blush on my 'face'.

"It's a surprisingly delicious concept, isn't it? Simply allowing yourself to be bereft of independence or ego…" She proceeds to lick the cheek of my mask.

"A mask is just a mask," she remarks as she removes my chinadoll mask, revealing my once-hidden face. "it belies your true self, the woman that simply begs to be someone's even if it has to be yourself!"  The little sunlight entering the room makes the black swirls on her shoulders and hips glisten. She looks at my mask, turning it over.

"And yet, it is no replacement for true ownership, is it? In the end, you still obey yourself, your own desires."

I finally begin to speak up. "Perhaps, in a way, we… all want to be… owned."

"Perhaps that is true. Some to ourselves, some to others, but no one wants to be alone."

She strokes the cheeks and chin of my adopted face, admiring its craftsmanship. "This mask, it represents another side of you, does it not?", she queries.

After a moment, I respond. "A… side as something… else?"

"Yes…  that wants to be owned by her ambitions. Dreams of glory and fear, endless opportunity presented to you."

I ponder the thought. "Owned by our ambitions? As something both… more and… uh… less… A pet or toy."

She seems to ignore my clumsy philosophy. "But the face, it longs for simple ownership. Forgoing all things but her own being, submitting her body to her owner."

She circles back around to face me. "If that is truly the case with you…"

"Ownership? Total submission?"

She nods. "Mm. Then it seems you… envy the ability to be one, or the other. Hiding the your true self behind what you want others to see."

She grasps the edges of my mask, lifting it up and placing it over her own face.

"And just maybe that face will remain unrecognized."

The mysterious captor leans in close to me, my breath echoing off the porcelain white face she now bears.

"Now, miss Marina, what is it that you truly belong to?"

---

A new day begins, same as every other. Workers walking(and in other cases, waddling) over to their posts in their pristine, shining latex uniforms, the MCI logo emblazoned on the breast. In the lobby stands a Plexiglas case, where the new recruits are placed for display on their first day for the staff to observe. One of the workers walks by as her eyes pass over a black-haired, green-eyed woman squirming slightly in her size-too-small uniform, as she pauses, recognizing her observer.

Her face unchanging, the worker walks past and enters her office, where she sits on a gently moaning worker while looking at her newly filled inbox.

"It's good to be in control."