What happened?  Where am I?  Princess Daphne had just regained consciousness.  The last thing she remembered, her carriage had been ambushed.  Her husband, Dirk the Daring, valiantly fought to defend her from their attackers, but there were too many of them.  One of the goons had fought past Dirk, grabbed her, and knocked her out.  And here she was, kidnapped…again.  Only she had no idea where "here" was, since she was blindfolded and couldn't see anything.  She was locked in a set of stocks with her wrists shackled over her head.  As frightened and uncomfortable as she was, what worried her most was not knowing what happened to Dirk.  Had he survived?
     "Ah, the beautiful Princess Daphne.  It has been too long."  
     Daphne recognized that smarmy voice.  "Count Malthius?" She hadn't seen him since his failed coup against her father three years before.  "You won't get away with this you traitor!  Dirk will save me!"  
     Malthius erupted into derisive laughter.  "I very much doubt that, your Highness.  Dirk the Daring is dead."
     "No! I don't believe you!"  cried Daphne, choking back tears.  
     "Believe what you like Princess," taunted Malthius.  "But even if that bumbling twit somehow managed to survive, he'd never find you in time.  Have a look."
     Malthius removed Daphne's blindfold, revealing the grim truth of her predicament.  She was in a dimly lit dungeon, surrounded by the most horrific looking devices she had ever seen.  She was in a torture chamber, and she was helpless to do anything about it.
     "You've been kidnapped before, I know that blondie," Malthius growled.  "But have you ever been tortured?"
     Daphne's eyes went wild with terror. "N-no.  And I don't see any reason to start now."
     Malthius let out a hearty laugh.  "Oh Daphne, you're far more clever than people give you credit.  All right, I'll try to make this as easy on you as possible," he lied.  "All you have to do is answer my questions fully and honestly, and I'll have no reason to hurt you."
     "You're right.  I'm not as stupid as people think.  You're going to hurt me no matter what I say or do.  So go ahead and ask your questions.  I'll decide whether or not I'll answer them."
     "I did not expect such a dignified response from you!" said Malthius with genuine admiration.   "All right then, let's get to it.  I have spies in the castle and I happen to know Dirk has…or had…a foot fetish."  Malthius relished the shocked look in the Princess's eyes.  "My first question is: did he ever indulge his desire with you?"
     "Frankly, it's none of your business!  But since you somehow clearly know the answer anyway, then, yes, he indulged his desire with me."
     Malthius smiled.  This was going better than expected.  "So he massaged your feet."
     "Yes, of course."
     "Did he suck your toes; lick your soles?"
     Daphne blushed.  "What is your point?"
     "The point is you enjoyed it, didn't you?  You loved the attention he paid to your feet."
     "Yes!  So what?!" she exclaimed.  "I still don't know where you're going with this!"
     "Did he ever torture your feet?"
     "Well," she began sheepishly, "he did tickle them occasionally."
     "But did he ever inflict any kind of pain on them?"
     "No, of course not!  Dirk would never hurt me!"
     Malthius smiled again.  That was exactly what he wanted to hear.  "Well, then, I guess it's time to begin,"  he said as he walked over to a cloth covered table.   Daphne gasped in horror when he removed the cloth to reveal an assortment of shiny, evil-looking instruments.  This is going to be fun, he thought.  "Let the games begin."