Elizabeth Hurly, the Martian's latest conquest, is trussed up in a chair, her mouth stuffed with a pink scarf, her wrists and ankles secured with expert knots. The Martian, dressed in a form-fitting leather suit, paces around her, his eyes gleaming with lust. He traces the edge of the gag with a gloved finger, making Elizabeth squirm. He runs a hand over her chest, pausing to tweak her nipples through her blouse. Elizabeth's breath comes in ragged gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. The Martian leans in, his lips brushing against her ear, "You're mine now, Elizabeth. Time to learn the pleasures of the pink."