The sensation of waking was, unpleasant.  She came awake all at once but, instead of light, there was only darkness.  She groaned as she briefly wondered whether or not she was dead, then the more terrifying thought that she had been buried alive.  No.  She quickly realized as she tried to move.  She wouldn't be bound so strangely if so.  She wasn't sure if that was a relief, or made the whole thing worse.<br/><br/>The sound of a voice caused Irina's head to jerk up and twist, trying to identify the location and, more importantly, the owner.  It didn't take long for her to figure out that it was the bastard from the shoot.  It had been a set up.  She felt a cold rage begin to build within her, enough to give her strength.  She forced the hand wandering her body out of her mind as she focused on gathering as much information about her situation as she could.  She carefully moved various muscles, testing the exact limits of her prison.  Her wrists and ankles seemed to be bound by heavy metal, spread wide in the most exposed position possible.  She couldn't even imagine what she looked like, or the sight that the bastard Orell had of her body.<br/><br/><strong>"I am happy to please."</strong>Irina answered to his comment about her being flexible, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  She was amazingly so, probably the match of any gymnast.  Her toes curled as the plastic tapped against her sole, and a shiver ran up her spine.  This, she knew, was going to get very bad, very fast.<strong>"Vori?  What the fuck is a Vori?  Isn't it voyeur?  I told you, Irina Sarkova, and I was hoping to work for your, I'm guessing imaginary, employers."</strong>