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Maria Chiara's Free Porn Stories
Story 56 - Amy's Shame 2 (Fdom-F) by Ginny and Amy
Amy eyed the contents of the cabinet and when she realized what it contained, she gasped in shock. "Noooo," she whispered, "you can't! Not that, please NO!." Jamie and Barbara both laughed as they grabbed her arms, dragged her across the filthy floor and slammed her ass down in what looked like an old barbers chair. With a couple of twists of two leather straps attached to the arms of the chair, they bound her wrists to the chair. Despite her kicking and squirming, Amy was now completely at their mercy.
The old crone took down silver machine from the cabinet along with a leather case. Amy watched with eyes wide with fear as she approached and straddled a high stool that covered Amy's legs at the thighs. "What shall we do first," the old crone asked Jamie, "she's your bitch." Jamie slowly ran her hand over Amy's heaving chest, hooked her fingers under the top of the stretchy material and slowly pulled Amy's dress down. It caught on her rigid nipple and Jamie gave it a little tug to free it. When she did, Amy's firm little breast bounced free of its confinement like a prisoner newly freed from prison.
Despite the knot of fear in the pit of her stomach, Amy's nipples were hard with arousal. Something in the way Jamie and her mother were treating her excited the young woman like nothing that had ever happened to her in all her 28 years. Perhaps it was the contrast with the way her own parents treated her, giving her everything she wanted and spoiling her rotten. Perhaps, the treatment she was getting from Jamie and her mother provided a structure and discipline that she'd missed in her mundane life.
The crone leaned forward and gave Amy's left breast a squeeze like a fishwife checking out the catch of the day. Her touch was neither erotic nor casual, but felt the way Amy's doctor touched her during an exam, detached and clinical.. "She's got good skin," she cackled, "Have you decided on a design?" Jamie nodded and opened her own blouse. "Give her the mate to this one." Amy looked up and saw a large tattoo that covered Jamie's entire breast. A giant snake that spiraled its way up from her ribs, around and around her breast until, at the end, the snake's open mouth seemed about to bite her nipple. Amy screamed just before she fainted.
When she awoke, she felt something cool on her breast and she looked down to where the old crone was swabbing her breast with an alcohol soaked cotton ball. "I'm glad you rejoined us," she said. "Jamie was just saying what she'd do to you if you passed out again. I'd stay awake at all costs, if I were you." Amy looked up to see Barbara and Jamie sipping drinks. "Here," Jamie chuckled, "take a pull on this, you're going to need it." She shoved an open bottle between Amy's lips before she could respond and tipped it up. A big slug of Tequila, the powerful Mexican liquor, rolled down her throat before she could get her tongue into the bottle to stop it. She started to gag, and in doing so, she swallowed another gulp of the fiery liquid.
Jamie took the bottle away and she and Barbara laughed as Amy coughed and sputtered. Then the old woman began to tattoo Amy's pale white skin. She couldn't believe how much pain there was as the mechanical needle flicked in and out, in and out as the old woman slowly moved the tattoo machine across her breast. She remembered the old woman's warning about not passing out again, and she fought against the pain. To counter Amy's writhing and squirming, the old crone held Amy's nipple between her thumb and forefinger and pulled her breast to keep it taut. Amy's ability to move was severely limited by the straps on her wrists and by Barbara who stood behind her holding a handful of her hair. The old woman was able, by holding her breast tightly, to keep it relatively still as she worked.
Every so often, Jamie thrust the bottle in her mouth and poured more Tequila down Amy's throat. She no longer resisted the powerful liquor, for she found it dulled the pain and she began looking forward to the next shot. It took the old woman almost an hour to complete the large tattoo and Amy realized she no longer had any sensation in her breast other than a dull throbbing ache that felt like it was being roasted over a low fire. The old woman finally sat back, studied her handiwork and pronounced it finished. Amy gave a sigh of relief that her ordeal was finally over, but she snapped back to full consciousness when she heard Jamie say, "OK, now put this on the other one." She held up a picture of a woman standing over another woman. The second woman's head was bowed in a subservient pose. Amy screamed and began to thrash about in the chair, but the thick straps held her firmly in place. Barbara cursed under her breath and slapped Amy so hard her head snapped to the side. "Shut up you fuckin' cunt," she sneered. "Hell, Jamie and I've both had worse, look at this!" She unzipped her skintight leather mini-dress to reveal a tattoo of a dragon that covered both breasts and her rounded belly.
The old crone changed to a different needle and began to tattoo Amy's right breast with the picture of one woman being dominated and demeaned by another. She had no doubt which of the two roles it would be her sad duty to fulfill. The second tattoo was not only quite a bit smaller than the first, but Amy had drunk a lot of the powerful Tequila. Although the needle was still painful, her mind drifted away as her head lolled from side to side. This time, the old crone still held her breast, but only as an aid to steady her other hand.
Unlike the first tattoo, the second took about half an hour, but by the time it was completed, Amy was quite drunk. When Jamie unfastened the straps, Amy staggered out of the chair and fell to her knees. If she hadn't wrapped her slender arms around Jamie's thighs, she'd have fallen flat on her face. "I gotta pee," she said, slurring her words badly. The old crone pointed to the back and Jamie and Barbara supported the tipsy young woman as she staggered to the bathroom. In truth, it was nothing more than a commode in the corner of an open room, but Amy was too drunk to care. She hiked up her skirt, squatted and peed a stream of golden fluid for a good two minutes. Then she rested her head against the wall and began to snore.
Jamie pulled her off the stool and slapped her face several times to waken her. "Not yet, Bitch," she hissed. "You've still got one more thing to do before you can go beddy-bye." They dragged her back the shop where the old crone waited with her tattoo machine. Jamie and Barbara put Amy on her knees and bowed her head to the floor. Then Jamie pulled Amy's skirt up to the small of her back, baring her white ass cheeks. Jamie explained what she wanted and the old crone chuckled knowingly, "I remember the last time I did one of those. How many's there been anyway?" Jamie bristled, "Never mind about her, this is the one I've got now. Get busy!"
The old woman sat on a stool between Amy's thighs, using her knees to keep the unwilling woman's legs apart. As she began to tattoo Amy's right ass cheek, she slid her left hand underneath and between Amy's legs to "steady" her. In truth, her subtle fingering of Amy's pussy had just the opposite effect and between the pain of the tattoo machine on her ass and the pleasure of the old woman's skilled fingers in her pussy, the young woman was torn between conflicting sensations. In the end, her lust won out over her pain and she climaxed before the old woman completed the third tattoo.
"You want me to do the other one now?" she asked as Jamie and Barbara stood over Amy's prostrate body. "Never mind," Jamie said with a resigned shake of her head. "She's so out of it, she can't even feel the pain anymore." Barbara glared at the old woman, "And you didn't help, frigging her clit while you were supposed to be working. Hell, if we'd wanted that done, I'd have done it, and a lot better besides." The old woman held out her hand, "That'll be three hundred like I said." Then she added with a sly smile, "Nothin' extra for the orgasm!"
Amy awoke the next morning with a terrible throbbing in her head. She couldn't remember where she was or much of what had happened the night before. The last thing she clearly recalled was when Jamie had announced that she'd get a second breast tattoo. She lifted up the bed covers and stared down at her breasts. They were not only covered with the tattoos, exactly as she remembered them, but they'd swollen to nearly twice their normal size. She tried to touch them, but they were extremely tender and sensitive. She wondered how she'd be able to wear a blouse over them, let alone a bra.
As she lay there wondering what she should do next, the door opened and Jamie came bouncing in, all chipper and bright. "Good morning,, Amy-girl, did you sleep well last night? I hope you're not too sore to get your ass out of bed and come downstairs for breakfast?" Amy shook her head and that simple act sent shards of pain searing through her breasts. She winced and it brought a grin to Jamie's lips. Amy slowly drew back the covers and gingerly swung her legs out of bed but a sudden shooting pain in her ass caused her to yelp in surprise. She reached back and realized her right cheek was quite sensitive.
"Wha . . . what happened to me last night?" Jamie shrugged, "Who cares? You were having so much fun, I just wish it'd never ended." Amy looked down at her chest and began to weep. "Don't be a wuss," Jamie scolded. "In a few days the swelling will go down and your tits'll go back down to normal." She laughed and the thought of Amy's small breasts being so sensitive gave her a sudden idea.
She disappeared while Amy tip-toed over to the mirror to try to see what was wrong with her ass. When she saw the third tattoo, her face turned bright red and she broke down in tears. That's how Jamie found her, standing and shivering as she cried in front of the full length mirror. "What have you done to me?" Amy cried, trying to turn her head around to read the lettering on her firm butt. Jamie held up a hand mirror so the reversed reflection was reversed again, enabling Amy to read the bold lettering, "Jamie's Bitch."
"What's going to happen to me?" Amy sobbed. "Nothing really," Jamie chuckled, "At least not yet. Hell, all that means is that hi-cut bathing suits are out and you'll never wear a thong except around people who already know about us. Oh," she added, "and I'd stay out of public showers, too. But that's all behind you now," she giggled at the crude joke. "Come on, get back in bed and let me do something about your tits." Foolishly thinking Jamie would do something to soothe her pain, Amy naively allowed the woman to lead her back to bed.
As she lay back, Jamie lowered her head and took Amy's left nipple in her mouth and ran her tongue over the rough tip until it became hard. The expansion of the sensitive nub made Amy moan in pain. "Don't worry," Jamie whispered as she raised her head, "in a few minutes, you won't even remember that." Then the cruel brunette tied thin rubber cords around Amy's stiff nipples and stretched them until they reached the posts at the corner of the old-fashioned bed. She tied the ends around the posts which forced Amy to arch her back to relieve the stress on her newly decorated mams.
Amy touched the cords, but Jamie slapped her hands away. "Uh-uh. Amy-girl no touch. Just lay there and let this put a little life in those dead ol' titties of yours. Who knows, maybe we'll stretch them a size or two. How'd you like to have a real pair of tits like mine?" Jamie arched her back and pushed her bosom toward Amy's face. The embarrassed girl could never bring herself to admit how badly she desired a pair of firm, proud breasts like Jamie had. If Jamie knew how many nights Amy had dreamed of waking up with Jamie's breasts instead of her own little mounds of flesh, there's no telling what Jamie would say or do to her.
The cords were already stretching Amy's nipples and she began to writhe and moan in pain as the flesh was stretched until she was sure it would tear away from her chest. "You lay here for an hour," Jamie said, "then I'll come and release you. We'll be watching and every time you touch yourself, I'm going to add fifteen minutes to your sentence. If you behave, we'll give you something to eat before Barbara begins your lessons." Amy's eyes widened, "Lessons? What kind of lessons?" Jamie chuckled. It was an evil laugh that sent shivers up Amy's spine. "We want to make sure you don't embarrass us at the party tonight," she said enigmatically. Then she gave the cords holding Amy's nipples a snap and walked out humming happily as Amy's breasts danced painfully.
Amy tried to relax, but the steady pull on her sensitive nipples was like an aphrodisiac. Soon, she felt a warmth in her loins and she moved her hips ever so slightly to ease the pressure on her clitoris. Instead, her nipples stretched more and she gasped in pain. Unfortunately, the jolt of pain only furthered her arousal and she desperately wanted to reach down and get one or more fingers in her pussy to relive the stress. She tried, but the effort only increased her tit-pain. In her frustration, she began to weep softly. Behind a one-way mirror, Barbara hugged Jamie and kissed her on the lips. Barbara's hand roamed over Jamie's pussy and she gave her daughter a very un-motherly squeeze, "You're getting hot just watching, aren't you dear?" Jamie sighed and nodded wordlessly, leaned on Barbara and the woman fingered her daughter to a climax.
Meanwhile in the bedroom Amy couldn't resist touching the cords that held her nipples. As Jamie had warned, a disembodied voice from a hidden speaker chided her and announced that an additional fifteen minute penalty had been added. "Keep it up and your tits'll stretch `til you look like Anna Nicole Smith," the voice laughed. Despite the terrible pain in her breasts, Amy didn't touch the cords again. When Jamie finally appeared to release her, there were tears of gratitude on Amy's cheeks. "How's the treatment?" Jamie asked with a light laugh as she ran her fingertips over Amy's flat belly. Amy shuddered at the woman's touch, but she knew that Jamie wanted her to say she'd needed it and she said so. "I enjoyed it, truly I did."
Jamie giggled at her transparent lie and said tartly, "I'm sure you did. Just look at those little silver dollar pancakes of yours, why they're already showing some signs of life. After a couple of weeks, you won't have a figure like a pre-pubescent teenager any more." The woman's words stung, not because they were lies, but because Jamie had said it. Ever since first meeting Jamie, Amy had been envious of her breasts. Many times, she'd fallen asleep and dreamed that when she awoke, her own inadequate breasts would have miraculously been transformed into Jamie's as she slept.
Amy gritted her teeth against the pain as Jamie slowly untied the elastic and she fought an overpowering urge to touch them. She suspected that was what Jamie wanted and if she had, she was sure it would drawn a stern rebuke, if not some form of punishment. As Amy slowly and painfully got off the bed, Jamie saw a moist spot on the sheet where Amy's hips had been. "Aww, did little Amy-girl piss herself?" she laughed. She touched her finger to the moisture, rubbed her fingers together to test the consistency and then slowly brought her hand to her mouth. She stuck out her tongue and tasted it then she broke into a smile, "Why you little devil! You really did enjoy that didn't you?" Amy's cheeks flushed and she lowered her eyes, unable to meet her tormentor's gleeful gaze. Jamie thrust her hand between Amy's thighs and pushed a finger into her slippery, wet slot. "Unnnh," Amy moaned when Jamie's finger found her stiff clitoris.
Without thinking or even being aware she did it, Amy bent her knees and slowly lowered herself onto Jamie's hand. The movement pushed Jamie's finger even further inside her and Amy moaned with obvious delight. Jamie never moved, just chuckled to herself and wiggled her finger until Amy gasped and collapsed in her arms from her orgasm. Despite the pain in her breasts, Amy clutched Jamie against her bosom. Later, when she and Barbara were alone, Jamie excitedly told her mother, "I swear she said, `Thank you'."
After Amy put on a robe, Jamie took her downstairs and fed her a light breakfast. Immediately afterwards, Barbara took over Amy's training while Jamie went out on an errand. Amy spent the next few hours learning to wear many different types of restraining devices including tight corsets with holes cut in the front that allowed her breasts to show while her arms were strapped behind her back. One particularly terrifying outfit was full of holes that gave full access to every opening of her body while completely immobilizing her hands and feet and blinding her as well. She couldn't imagine the terrible indignities that could be inflicted anyone unfortunate enough to wear such a costume.
Barbara took delight in dressing Amy in one restrictive costume after another until the poor girl was exhausted from struggling in and out of the leather, rubber or spandex clothing. When she finally allowed Amy to rest, Barbara insisted that she do it on her knees in front of her with her head resting on her thick thighs. Afraid of the older woman, Amy reluctantly did as she was ordered. Barbara gently stroked Amy's long hair as she leaned back, closed her eyes and lost herself deep in thought.
Finally, the woman spoke in a soft voice, as if her thoughts were a hundred years away. "Ah, this brings back such memories," she said. "I had a slave of my own when I was Jamie's age and she brought me the most exquisite pleasure. I hope you'll do the same for her." Amy wanted to promise that she would, if for no reason other than to prevent another beating, but she was too afraid to speak. Barbara reminisced as her hands stroked Amy's hair. "God, that girl was the best little bitch I ever had. I'll have to be sure to show Jamie some of the tricks I taught her, I'm sure you'll be quite good, you're even more pliable than she was." After lunch, Jamie returned and joined Barbara in training Amy. The lesson was on cunnilingus, and while Amy's experience was severely limited, Jamie and Barbara proved to be excellent instructors. While one of them demonstrated on Amy, she practiced on the other, trying to duplicate the sensations she was feeling herself. It was an exhausting afternoon, what with all the bending, twisting and tonguing, but not only was Amy proud of what she'd learned, but both Jamie and Barbara seemed pleased with her progress as well.
That evening, Amy was dressed again in the same little black spandex dress she'd worn for her tattooing. As Barbara drove downtown, Jamie reached over and idly ran her hand up the inside of Amy's thigh toward her pussy. Amy knew better than to resist and Jamie smiled broadly when, as her fingers reached her shaved opening, Amy spread her legs to give Jamie unfettered access to her. Jamie didn't disappoint, pushing two fingers into her opening and tickling her clitoris until she climaxed. Barbara congratulated Jamie as they pulled up in front of an apparently abandoned warehouse building.
Inside the dingy building, was concealed a posh private club where Barbara was greeted as an old friend by the burly guard. He eyed Amy's slender figure and asked, "New meat?" Barbara laughed and nodded toward Jamie, "It's hers." Barbara was taken to a table right next to the stage and Amy flushed self-consciously as she minced her way between tables trying to hold her dress down in the front without having her newly decorated breasts leap out the top. It was a nearly impossible task and she almost tumbled into a table of laughing women as she concentrated on her problem instead of where she was going.
That evening, the "show" consisted of pairs of women and one would abuse the other until she passed out from pain, multiple orgasms or both, depending upon the type of abuse that was inflicted on her. During a break in the show, Jamie took Amy's arm and dragged her up onto the stage where she put her in a chair facing the audience. A couple of women at one of the "ringside" tables laughed as she sat down, for they saw she wore no panties as her bare pussy reflected light like a beacon to the twisted women. Amy tried to keep her legs closed, but with Jamie pulling and tugging on her hair it was a tough job.
Jamie ran her hands through Amy's shoulder length, light brown hair and eyed Amy's reaction to her fondling. Amy closed her eyes and stretched contentedly as she enjoyed Jamie's caress. Once, Amy even sighed as if she were sexually aroused. "Your crowning glory!" Jamie whispered in her ear, "I can't remember how many times I watched you play with this hair. You're always either brushing or combing it. Do you realize how you toss it when you talk, especially to men. You're fixated on your hair, aren't you?" She gave Amy's hair a hard yank when she asked the question, but Amy sat without speaking. Everything Jamie said about her was true. Since she'd been a little girl, Amy had been proud of her long, soft hair.
Then Jamie produced a pair of long scissors from her bag. "Well, we're going to cut it all off." Amy bolted straight up in the chair and snatched her hair from Jamie's grasp. "NO, you can't! Not my hair! Please!" The poor girl was so upset she started to cry. "Remember you parents," Jamie hissed. Amy hesitated and then slowly lowered her hands in her lap. She sat sobbing softly as Jamie cut and hacked at her head, removing large hunks of her beautiful tresses. Tears rolled down her cheeks and fell onto the rapidly growing pile of her hair beneath the chair. When Jamie finished, all that remained were strands and clumps of ragged hair.
Jamie went backstage and returned with a small pair of electric trimmers. She held Amy firmly by the shoulder as she ran the clippers over her head, giving her a buzz cut that left what remained of her hair less than 1/4" long. "That's much better," Jamie said as she stepped back and admired her handiwork. "Whadda ya think ladies?" she asked the group of women in the front row. They applauded and one called out, "It's great. Looks real butch!" On hearing that, Amy couldn't control herself and she broke down blubbering.
Amy spent the evening sitting morosely at Barbara's table next to Jamie. Women would come over and ask Jamie if Amy could dance with them. Jamie never turned them down, pushing her into their arms and watching coolly as they twirled Amy across the tiny dance floor. Most of the women took the opportunity to grope her tight little ass or rub their breasts against hers, which were still sensitive from the tattoos. One woman apparently mistook Amy's reaction to their sensitivity for arousal and grabbed her breast and gave it a squeeze. Everyone in the place had turned to look when Amy's piercing scream echoed through the room.
Later, on the way back from the club, Jamie announced that Amy would be moving in with her. "I thought I was already staying with you?" Jamie laughed, "No, silly Amy-girl. That's Barbara's place. I'm flattered that you think I could afford such a luxury townhouse on what they're paying us. My apartment's not too far from yours, as a matter of fact." That reminded Amy that she didn't have anything to wear to work on Monday. At least she hoped Jamie would allow her to return to her job.
"Are . . . are you going to let me go to work Monday?" Amy asked, her voice cracking with emotion. In spite of all the problems in the office, Amy found the thought of not being able to work made her uneasy. Jamie laughed at her question, "Of course. In fact, let's stop by your apartment to pick up your clothes for the week. We can't have you showing up to work in that provocative number," she pointed at the tiny dress Amy had been wearing for the past two days, "you might get raped in the hall." Jamie and Barbara both laughed, but the humor in the thought of being raped escaped her.
When they reached her apartment building, Jamie and Amy took the stairs to Amy's apartment where Jamie rummaged through Amy's large closets full of expensive outfits. Apparently Jamie had definite ideas about the look she wanted for her new slave, for she flipped quickly though the hangers, rejecting almost all of Amy's favorite dresses and suits. "No, no, no, no, no, maybe, no, no," Amy was becoming embarrassed when Jamie finally found one that met her criteria. She pulled it out and held it up in front of Amy to see how it looked.
It was an outfit Amy had bought a few years ago, worn once and put away. It was a suit with a too short skirt that she'd picked up while shopping with her friend Linda. Linda had said it looked good on her, but Amy found it too revealing and had never worn it to work. Now, Jamie had picked it out and she would have to wear it whether she liked it or not. The rest of Jamie's choices were equally bizarre. Colors that weren't in Amy's palette, skirts that were far too short, blouses that were too sheer, it was as if Jamie were deliberately choosing the outfits that made Amy look her worst. "I can't wear this," Amy said of one jacket, "with my coloring, it makes me look anemic." Jamie slapped her cheek - not too hard but hard enough to let Amy know her opinion was unworthy of consideration. "You'll wear what I tell you, when I tell you to wear it," she hissed. "But you're right about the color, brunette's shouldn't wear this." Amy breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Jamie wasn't going to be totally unreasonable after all. "But let's bring it along, shall we? I'd like to see it on you when your make over is complete."
"Makeover?" Amy asked incredulously, "Who said anything about a makeover?" Jamie turned around with her hands on her hips and just stared at her. "What would you call the tattoos, the haircut, all the training Barbara and I have been taking the time to give you? Oh, it's a makeover all right, I'm going to make you into my bitch and you're going to love it." Amy wiped a tear from her cheek, "But I thought, . . . I mean if you don't like me the way I am, why did you . . . ?" Jamie, irritated by Amy's sniveling, brushed off her question and after choosing a couple of pairs of shoes, told Amy to carry everything to the car.
"I need to stop at that all night drug emporium Barbara," Jamie said as her mother started the car, "I won't be but a minute." While Jamie ran into the store, Barbara climbed into the back seat and "permitted" Amy the pleasure of licking her pussy. When Jamie came out and saw Amy's ass in the air and her face buried in Barbara's snatch, she laughed, tossed the small bag in the front seat and slid behind the wheel. In a couple of minutes, they were in front of her building. Turning around she slapped Amy on the butt and said, "OK you lovers, break it up, we're home."
Amy, red-faced from her exertions and embarrassed by Jamie's reference to lovers, sat up and wiped her mouth with her hand. "Grab your shit, bitch," Jamie snarled as she got out of the car. "We've still got work to do and I have to be up early, remember? It's a work day!" Amy lugged her clothes up to Jamie's apartment, leaving a trail of dropped shoes, bras and panties through the lobby. The man behind the security desk laughed at her, but made no effort to help. Barbara followed shortly and, with an exasperated sigh, bent and retrieved Amy's fallen items. "I don't know why she brought these," she muttered, "I doubt if she'll ever wear them again."
Upstairs, Jamie had already begun preparations for the next step in Amy's transformation. She took out a bottle of peroxide she'd purchased and called Amy over to the sink. "Put your head in there, bitch," she said as she put her hand between Amy's shoulder blades and forced her over the sink. The women quickly transformed Amy's hair from light brown to white and when she looked into the mirror, she didn't even recognize herself. "Now it's in your palette," Jamie laughed as she looked at Amy's new hair. Amy stared in stunned disbelief at her reflection. "My hair," she said, "my wonderful hair. Oh, God!" then she started to cry. Surprisingly, Jamie put her arm around her and held her as she wept. "There, there, Amy-girl," she whispered, "don't cry over your hair. Come on, let's go to bed. In the morning, when we're dressing you for work, everything will look brighter."
Amy looked around the one bedroom apartment. "Where do I sleep? Is there a sleep sofa?" Jamie chuckled, "No silly. Why you're going to sleep in my bedroom. Here, let me show you." Jamie took her arm and gently guided her into a bedroom dominated by a queen-size round bed. Amy sat on the bed, testing it's firmness. After the too-hard mattress at Barbara's, this was a big improvement. Even if she would have to endure Jamie's groping, she thought, at least she wouldn't wake up with a back ache.
"Not there Amy," Jamie said, "You sleep over here. You're only allowed on the bed when I want you to pleasure me." Amy looked and saw that Jamie had spread a blanket on the wooden floor beneath the window. "You expect me to sleep on the floor?" she said incredulously. "It's either that, or I can chain you in the closet," Jamie said. "Either would be more comfortable than a cell at the Federal Women's Prison in Alderson, West Virginia. That IS where they send criminals like you, isn't it?"
(End of Part 2.)
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