"Oh God no!" you scream as the sound of a bolt lock slams shut making a prisoner for Circe's blandishments.
Feeling the walls for some possible way of escape your finger nails dig into a sticky slime which covers those darkened walls. A sniff of your hands takes your thoughts back to an odor of a wet dog. The stench makes you snort the odor out your nose as from outside the door comes a voice.
"That sounds very good in time you should have a good bit more force when making that sound!" says the voice of what you think in a mature woman.
The room stands now dark and as you wait for what is to happen a funny sound starts below the floor.
More and more the sound is of a creaking machine working like it's out of grease. Then from the floor comes a light as it's opening and offering no place for your feet to stand.
Steam and the horrid odors of what cover your hands rolls upward and fills the small room. As more light come and the opening gets ever wider your eyes have a look of some tank just below.
The steam suggests that the tank is more than just warm, it's hot and maybe she plans to boil you for lunch.
Your floor is almost rolled back and there is just a few inches to offer a place to stand. You watch as young female satyrs come and pour into the tank bottles of this and powders of that as a long stir stick blends the broth for you their main course!