It felt bizarre to be involved in such an enjoyable if mundane activity, when only a few hours earlier, she’d witnessed a dramatic space battle involving kilometre-long ships duelling each other, with thousands of lives hanging in the balance. She tried to forget about that for the moment though, and put aside her knife, before picking up a peeler to skin the carrots. She dragged the peeler down the orange vegetable, neatly divesting it of its skin in a long, satisfyingly unbroken strip of peel.Now that the carrots were ready to be sliced, she picked up the chef’s knife to continue her preparations. By reflex she picked up the long knife in an entirely different grip, one that felt much more familiar, and was intended for an altogether more sinister purpose. Her mind drifted, and she was suddenly reliving a sharply distinct memory from her past.The wind whistled past her cheeks as she clung to the top of the hover train. Thick smoke was billowing from the first class carriage ahead. With quick work she loosens the ropes and then removes them from my wrists. I resist the urge to rub them. She reaches for me and grabs my ponytail. I squeal as she tugs it forward, pulling me to my knees. She walks around the room, pulling me roughly by my ponytail. I follow, trying to keep up, but just as I feel the release of pressure, she pulls faster, almost dragging me behind her. She leads me to a bench at the foot of our slave bed. I do not have to be told what to do. I crawl over the bench, my belly flat against the soft cushion. My head hangs over one side, my knees on the other. She walks around and grabs my wrists, pulling each one in turn to opposite corners. My hands are secured with soft cuffs that she keep in place for moments I deserve to punished. In this position, there is no need to secure my legs, but the rope is still tied round my ankles. Mistress Chelsea picks the end of the rope up in her hand and I hear it swishing through the air a split.
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