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She swung around the pole, hiked her knee and then paused. Wearing nothing but a leather miniskirt and black high heels, she noticed with pleasure that all of the men in the room were watching, enraptured. The normal club patrons were up front hooting and hollering while the more well-to-do men were sitting in the reclining chairs in the back. She could barely see through the thick cigarette smoke, but she could tell that none of the chairs were reclined; every man, be they in business suit or dirty t-shirt, was watching the beautiful woman with the long dark brown hair, toned legs and arms, slim waist, and large perfect breasts which were heaving from her exertions. She had chosen a long routine, being last, hoping to impress the rich men that may have been more interested in the teenagers that came before her.
She kicked her leg as high as she could, exposing her bare ass and shaved vagina, an action which still made her blush. This was not the Marie her mother raised. This was not the mother of the two year old son which she knew she would never again see. This 22 year old woman was sultry, lithe, and alive as she had never been. She put her leg down, her twenty minute long routine at an end. With sweat dripping off of her nose, hands, and legs, she walked wearily but confidently from the stage. Many of the men were clapping and yelling while a few wrote something down or made voice notes into tape recorders and cell phones. She hoped they were writing good things. She prayed that a rich man would purchase her; not one of these animals that were yelling and screaming and would probably love nothing more than to do horrible things to her. She wanted an owner that would love her. A part of her mind screamed at her to run for the exit, but she knew she wouldn’t get far. After all, she didn’t exist; at least not in the way a normal American woman would.
As she entered the back room, she removed her skirt and heels and threw them in the pile against the wall. That was her costume, and it most likely would not travel with her to her new home. It would be washed and given to the next set of girls that came through this place.
She stepped into the shower, vowing to herself that she would scrub clean every last part of her body so that she would look her best for the coming auction. Once she had locked herself into her cage, there would be no opportunity to do anything but sleep. As she began scrubbing, she thought back to how she had ended up here. Marie, a good Christian woman with a strong familial upbringing, in a strip club washing up after a performance and about to be auctioned to the highest bidder.
Marie was on her way home from work. It was volunteer work at a local politician’s office, as her husband would not allow her to hold a true job so soon after giving birth to their two year old. He had said that she should be with him at least until he was in school. In truth, he probably didn’t trust her to hold a job. After all, she was just a woman. He was not the man she married and although she still thought she loved him, she was getting sick of fearing for her health every time he came home at night, drunk and belligerent.
As soon as she opened the door, she felt something was wrong. None of the lights were on in the house except for the kitchen, which was very much not the norm for her husband. She gasped as she came around the corner. Her husband was lying on the floor, face down in a puddle of his own blood, a male police officer standing over him. The officer was holding a gun. He looked at Marie and told her to stay back. Shocked, she did as she was told. The officer, wearing gloves, approached her and handed her the gun. He asked her to turn the gun over, looking for any marks that would identify it as her husband’s. He told her he suspected suicide. She didn’t realize until too late what she was doing. By then, the officer was grinning at her.
“Marie Dubois, you are under arrest for the murder of Frank Dubois,” he said, to a completely aghast Marie. He finished reading her the Miranda rights as he handcuffed her and escorted her out of her own back door into the alley where a patrol car waited. He threw her violently into the backseat, causing her to hit her head on the opposite window.
She shook her head to try to clear it. She tried to use her hands to move the hair out of her eyes but they were locked uncomfortably tight behind her.
“There must be a mistake…you know I didn’t kill him, you were there,” she stammered. She knew she sounded like a fool and that they were obviously framing her, but she couldn’t think why.
“Lady, we saw you holding the gun. We have a letter that you wrote to your
friend in
She sat in stunned silence. Not only was she being framed; she was being abducted. She realized quickly that there was no escape. How could she, Marie, housewife, escape the police?
Before she had time to think about it, they were arriving at the precinct. As they were booking her, the woman behind the counter looked her over doubtfully. She didn’t look like the type that would normally be arrested, wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt. She saw a glimmer of hope and began pleading with the woman.
“Please, I’ve been framed and these officers want to make me disappear so they can sell me on some sort of auction! You’ve got to believe me! You’ve got to help!” she begged.
“Oh, the crazy husband murderer you were telling me about,” the woman said. “You’re right, she is pretty. Too bad. The women where she’s going do mean things to the pretty ones.”
She booked Marie and the male officers led her to a holding cell. The cell was empty except for her. Having never been in jail before, Marie wasn’t sure what to do next. She felt cliché holding onto the bars as if she were in a movie, but couldn’t think of anything else. Besides, it gave her something to brace herself against. Everything had happened so fast.
She remembered once attending jury duty. She remembered a man with far less evidence stacked against him being indicted for arson. She herself had been one of the jurors pushing for the guilty vote. Now that she was on the other side of the fence, she wondered if she really stood a chance in court. Her fingerprints on her husband’s gun in her own house with a recent life insurance policy and a letter, even if forged, to someone saying she wanted to kill him? Add to that the only witnesses being a pair of corrupt police officers that were going to say they walked in with her holding the gun? It didn’t look good for her.
She put her head against the cell and moaned as she realized she would most likely never again be free. At least, she thought, her son would never again be hit by her husband.
The trial was quick. She was allowed representation but it was chosen for her. The man was obvious in his attempts to make her story look fake; not that she had much of a defense.
The psychiatrist declared her mentally sane and the experts said these things were common of low income house wives who care more about money then their loving husbands. On the last day of the trial, the prosecution even suggested that she had most likely been sleeping with the senator she was volunteering for. The man was a political enemy of the lawyer and this move erased what few doubts the jurors had left.
The deliberations lasted less than an hour. She was guilty on all charges; murder, infidelity, even child cruelty for doing such heinous acts a mere two years after their son was born.
She listened to the proceedings with a blank look on her face. What could she say? The whole thing was obviously a setup, but a damn good one. Only she and those involved would ever know. Even her family, to which she was not close, would probably believe her capable of this as they had thought she was evil simply for marrying her husband.
The sentencing was just as quick. Her state readily accepted the death penalty, especially for a murdering whore. It was rare to put a woman to death, but it didn’t matter. Although her case was big news for the first few days, certain people made an effort to make sure it disappeared quickly. They had her scheduled for execution as soon as possible.
Marie watched from a closed circuit television in her cell as they led someone else to her death. She couldn’t tell if it was a dummy or another woman. It moved realistically, but the hood on the head kept her from verifying anything. They strapped the thing in, pulled the lever, and called it a day. She slept little that night, wondering about her fate.
She awoke to a jailor entering the cell. He told her to be quiet and still. He placed a hood on her head, disturbingly similar to the one that had been on the executed body. He handcuffed her hands behind her back. She could then hear a rustling in front of her that sounded similar to a large leather knapsack being arranged. He told her to step forward and guided her feet. As soon as she was standing on it, he pulled the large sack up to her neck and tied it.
She did not resist as she did not know where she would go if she did get away. Besides, the past few days of solitary confinement had given her time to think about things. She wasn’t at all sure she missed her old life, even if she was unsure of the future. She hadn’t exactly been free, as her husband had kept her on a pretty tight leash, and at least in jail she hadn’t been physically abused.
The jailor carried her out of the cell and threw her onto a pile of laundry. He then carted her out the back door and placed her in the bed of a pickup instead of the laundry truck. She stayed dutifully still the entire time.
It took the truck a few hours to get to its destination. By then, the rough ride and confined hood had given Marie a terrible headache. Her wrists ached from being bounced against the bed of the truck and she was extremely sweaty from being locked into a leather bag in the summer heat for two hours. She felt herself lifted from the truck bed and carried a bit. A female voice told the person carrying her where to place her and she was stood with a chain wrapped around her still hooded neck to keep her standing.
It didn’t take long for someone to come by and remove the hood. Marie’s blurry eyes took a moment to focus on the more mature woman in front of her. The woman waited patiently for Marie to try to speak. Marie’s throat, however was very parched, and only produced a hoarse grumble.
The woman held up a garden hose with a sprayer and pointed it at Marie’s mouth, a questioning look on her face. Marie gladly opened her mouth and received the cool water. As she drank she looked around. She was in a warehouse chained to the ceiling by her neck. There were a few other women in the room who looked to be near her age, all of them attractive and all of them nude. They were all chained to the ceiling but a few were sitting down on the cement floor while most were standing. Many of them wore leather gags that covered their entire mouth. One poor woman was also pulled by her neck onto the tips of her toes, barely able to breathe. One of the sitting women was reading something.
The woman who had given her water stopped the flow and set the hose down. She untied the bag and slid it down Marie’s body, carefully helping her step out of it. She threw the bag into the middle of the floor and pulled out a pair of scissors. The woman then began cutting Marie’s clothes off; first her t-shirt, then her blue jeans. Marie started to protest when the woman began cutting off her panties and bra, but the woman merely gave her a stern look. Marie could guess by the woman’s domineering manner and the fact that all of the other women were naked that arguing would probably be futile. Even the woman cutting off her clothes was wearing a low cut blouse, tight skirt, stockings and high heels. The woman unlaced Marie’s shoes and took them off, one by one, carefully letting Marie keep her balance since Marie’s hands were still cuffed behind her back. She put all of the clothes and shoes into the bag and deposited it on a stack of similar bags.
Marie, completely nude, stood there as the woman came back and retrieved the water hose. She then soaked Marie completely from head to toe, causing her to shriek from the shock and avert her face. Once Marie was completely drenched the woman applied soap. Starting at her feet, the woman silently and efficiently coated Marie in suds all the way to her neck, paying special attention to Marie’s more sensitive areas. She then coated Marie’s shoulder length brown hair in shampoo. She washed Marie’s face gently with a rag.
Every time Marie would start to speak, the woman would shush her. None of the other women were talking either, though Marie could tell that a few of them were mumbling and screaming into gags. Not wishing to be gagged, Marie let the woman finish bathing her in silence.
After being rinsed, the woman released Marie’s hands. She also released the lock on the chain on Marie’s neck and told her to sit. Marie did as she was told, not wanting to anger the person who was obviously in control. The woman reattached the chain to Marie’s neck and told her she could either sit or stand, her choice. She then handed Marie a small pamphlet.
“Read that and you’ll understand a bit about what’s going on. It’s not as horrible as you might think, but you are no longer a member of society as you knew it. You are now, and forevermore, a slave,” the woman said. “You will refer to me as Mistress because although I am also a slave, I am your superior for the time being.” She then turned away and walked off, pausing only to give the choking, tortured woman a quick slap on the breast.
Marie wondered what was going on with that one poor woman and decided that she had probably upset the mistress lady. She watched the lady leave the room then turned her attention to the small book in her hands. It read:
You are now a slave.
Much care is taken to acquire only the most attractive women, so you may
be proud that you qualified. You are
probably also terrified, which is understandable. You are, for all extents and purposes, no
longer human. You have no rights. To the public and the government, you are
dead. You live only as a slave now.
She read this paragraph a few times, letting it sink in. She realized she was crying as the concept of slavery sunk in. She had read about slavery in school but had never though she would end up with a chain around her own neck. She read on:
The people you will meet that are not slaves are the
people who make a business selling them.
In this facility, we train our slaves to be dancers. You will have three months to prepare before
going on stage. You will be performing
in a strip club, owned by this facility, which is known for having new women
every month. You will have one night,
one performance to make an impression on the crowd. You will compete with five other slaves.
After the show an auction will be held. There will be five buyers, so every slave
will be purchased. In this way we make
sure that every man, no matter how poor, has a chance to own a beautiful
woman. However, the best, most sensual
and attractive dancer will demand the higher bids that only the richer men can
provide. These men tend to be kinder,
looking mainly for a companion that can never leave them and take half their
fortune. Therefore it is in your best
interest to train as hard as possible and perform to the best of your abilities.
You will be responsible for your own routine and picking
your own costume. Pick carefully as the
right clothes and right moves just might grab the right owner.
There will be slaves on hand to help you prepare. Most of these slaves are almost free. They do as they wish as long as it does not
conflict with their Master’s wishes. They
are here as a courtesy from their Master to help you train and learn to attract
the right man. Feel free to talk to them
about the entire system and how they feel.
You will find that most of them prefer their new life to their life as a
free person.
If you are reading this pamphlet it means that you are
one of the few slaves that are manageable from the beginning. The others will learn all of this the hard
way; through pain and punishment. You,
in realizing your own limitations, already have an edge. Use it!
Marie finished the pamphlet and then reread it. She looked around a bit with tears in her eyes. She was officially a slave to be auctioned to the highest bidder. Not only that, she was expected to perform in front of her prospective buyers. She put her head on her arms and drew her knees up into a tight little ball.
A thought occurred to her as she wiped her blurry eyes with the back of her hand and looked again at the women around her. There were only three women that were sitting; two besides her. They were both sobbing quietly to themselves after having read the pamphlet.
She read the small book a third time, lingering on the final paragraph. She looked around again, tapping her foot and chewing on the inside of her cheek, and realized that she really did have an advantage. While some of the women that were standing were far better endowed then Marie, they were already a step behind. They probably had enjoyed their life too much to just let it slip away. Marie, on the other hand, hadn’t particularly liked her previous life. She had decided while in jail that she didn’t really love her now dead husband anymore, and her son was probably better off with a family that could support him.
Here, however, she could start fresh. She could actually BE something on her own, and she was almost guaranteed a wealthier style of life, as long as she made her purchaser happy.
She was starting to get excited. She didn’t feel she would have to work very hard; her body was already in decent shape. Her husband hadn’t let her breast feed her son, something she was now grateful for, so her body had recovered from birth almost completely. She hadn’t considered herself a dancer, being a rather modest 5’6” and having never really tried, but she supposed she could make up for her shortcomings with enthusiasm.
At some point she had stood up. The chain around her neck was not bothering her anymore and she bore its weight with newfound energy. She was pacing within her limit, trying to think of some sort of routine that would be original, when the mistress woman seemingly materialized in front of her. Marie had been so deep in thought she hadn’t noticed the woman approach, even in her high heels.
“Ready to start training?” she asked Marie with a quirky smile.
“Ok.” Marie said.
“The appropriate response would be ‘Yes, Mistress.’ Don’t be surprised if you get slapped for that with any of the other slaves,” she said in her stern voice. “They enjoy their rank, you understand?”
“Yes Mistress!” Marie quickly amended.
She was then released from her neck chain and told to follow. Without really thinking, Marie followed.
She was quickly introduced to her cage, which would be her home, and some of the other slaves. They were all quite friendly and all very pretty. All of them wore sexy outfits, obviously attempting to stay attractive to their Masters. None of them appeared to be over the age of 30, though Marie wasn’t quite sure.
Her cage was a seven foot tall, seven foot long, four foot wide box that locked automatically when closed. The bottom was lightly padded and there was a small pillow at one end. She was to sleep in it every night and always close the door securely. She would usually be allowed to train as long as she wanted, but must always obey the senior slaves when they told her it was bedtime. Clothing was selected for her and she subsisted entirely off of diet meal shakes, water, and multivitamins.
Within the first few weeks she was already feeling her muscles tone. She had access to all manner of aerobics and dance tapes to exercise to and a full weight room to tone up. She was usually released from her cage only a few hours after she went to sleep with a senior slave poking and prodding her to wake up and continue training, but never forcing.
She only ever saw two other women in training. She recognized them as the two women who had been sitting in the warehouse room, but they were far behind her in progress. By the time they had their bodies in shape, Marie was practicing dance routines for the final night. With the guidance of the other slaves, she learned that if she was going to dance in heels, she should practice in higher heels. With that in mind, she chose a pair of 6” stilettos. Many of the trainer slaves stopped and admired her toned body as she danced for hours wearing only those shoes. The heels would break almost weekly from the constant stress, but there was always someone willing to drive them down to the local shoe repair shop while Marie got a few hours of sleep. She busted her knees and elbows more than once but eventually got the entire routine down.
At the beginning of the third month, the other two girls had finally gotten to choosing a routine while Marie had already perfected hers. She was allowed access to a tanning bed and allowed to pick her outfit.
She had always liked her legs and feet and decided to accentuate those parts of her body. She wore a very tight leather skirt with a slit up to her waist and a white dress shirt that she fully intended to rip off very early in her routine. She wore no panties or bra, hoping to show her beautiful, toned body early and often. She got only a light tan in order to mask some of the scars on her arms from her previous life.
The night before the routine, Marie practiced in the 5” black stilettos she planned to perform in. After using the 6” heels for so long, the 5” ones felt like bare feet while dancing. She added a few impromptu moves which lengthened the routine by almost five minutes. She hoped that the kinder, wealthier men would recognize her enthusiasm and consider her one of the better purchases. As she locked herself in her cage for the night, fully aware that she would not be released until the performances began, she reflected on the past three months. Never had she accomplished so much in so little time. She was terrified of what the morning would bring, but excited as well. It would either be the best or worst day of her life. In comparison, her wedding night seemed inconsequential. She knew her life depended on her performance yet was confident in her abilities. She found it ironic that slavery could make one more confident; but in this case, it did. She found herself considering the fact that she would never sleep, excited as she was.
She awoke soon after to one of the trainer slaves opening her cage and letting her out. She dressed in her chosen outfit and allowed herself to be led to the side of the stage where she would be allowed to watch the performance of the other girls. She was told she was to be last, but did not ask why. She had seen the other two girls get slapped repeatedly for asking questions out of turn. As she was a naturally quiet person, Marie simply asked no questions, doing as she was told and practicing as hard as she could.
Marie was astonished at the size of the crowd. She was expecting five men, but there were close to a hundred in attendance. It occurred to her that this was probably to keep the women from playing to a particular customer. She was confident enough in her abilities that she was no more nervous. In fact, the anonymity comforted her slightly. There was no way she could possibly know which person was going to purchase her, so she simply had to perform her best.
The first performance was obviously forced. It was brief and heartless and the tallish brunette looked as if she still had not accepted her new fate. She was nude from the beginning and Marie assumed she must have refused to choose an outfit. She cried through most of her brief routine and although Marie felt sorry for her, she did not understand why after three months the woman still could not adjust. The men in the front did not seem to care. Seeing a helpless, sobbing naked woman was enough to make them hoot and holler, grabbing and reaching for her any time she came to close to the edge of the stage. The two girls that were sitting in the warehouse came next, a little brunette and a redhead. They were obviously trying but didn’t seem to have the heart for it. The redhead never even stripped all of her clothes off, causing all of the men in the front to boo her.
The fourth performance shocked Marie and shook her confidence. The black haired woman that had been chained standing strutted out onto the stage, looking angrier than ever. Marie watched the woman do her routine with vicious energy, ripping every piece of clothing off her muscular body and violently tossing it to the crowd in a strange, enraged version of a typical strip tease. She had apparently decided to spend all of her time on the weight tables as she looked like a body builder with long black hair and a dark tan. Marie knew she couldn’t hope to match this woman’s energy and strength, but she could probably outlast her considering her routine was based more on sensual stares and slinks than raw power.
At the end of the performance, the woman did two swings around the pole to build momentum and then launched herself into the crowd. Much of the crowd parted as this monster of a woman attempted to tank her way out of the club. As she was reaching the door, a much larger man grabbed her wrist, yanked it behind her toned back up to her shoulder blades, and forced the strong woman to the ground. She tried kicking at him with her heeled feet, but he was equipped with thick rope which he used to quickly hogtie her. As he picked her up by her wrists and ankles and deposited her back on the stage, Marie made eye contact and shivered at the insanity she saw there. The woman was screaming and thrashing around and it took six slaves to drag her off into the back. Marie heard one last, long shriek followed by a loud clang as the woman was locked in her cage and Marie watched the huge man walk back into the cloud of smoke and take a seat with the other well dressed gentlemen there.
Then it was Marie’s turn. She approached the pole with well practiced temerity. She made quick eye contact with every man in the room that looked even partially suitable. She then looked down at her shoes, causing one of the men in the front to start to holler at her for being “just as chicken-shit as that other girl.” Then, in one quick motion, she ripped her dress shirt off at the buttons, revealing her ample breasts and slim waist. As agreed upon by the DJ, the music started exactly two seconds after, before the stunned silence could end. The loud bass and fast electronic music beat in her ears as she followed her well rehearsed routine completely by memory. The music she had chose was punctuated with softer moments which would find her making love to the pole while staring longingly at the richest looking men in the crowd. Her final move gave the audience what it had so desperately waited for; a full view of her most sensitive parts. Although she blushed, she knew full well her routine had had the desired effect.
Marie awoke in her cage unaware that she had fallen asleep. The mistress that Marie had first encountered was urging her to come out. She turned Marie around and gave her a gentle shove toward a door leading to another room. Inside, Marie saw five stands with manacles high above them. All of them were empty except for the one which was occupied by the large muscular woman. She was pulled by her wrists at least a foot off of the ground and was lurching and kicking her legs which were spread apart by a wooden spreader.
The other slaves who had performed were being attached by their wrists to the other stands, but none of the others were actually lifted off their feet. Marie was attached and the manacles were drawn up so that her arms were held fully extended above her head, but very little stress was placed on her beautiful body.
As soon as all of the dancers were secured on their stands, the muscular girl followed by the little redhead then the brunette, followed by Marie then the sobbing girl; the bidders were allowed to enter. They all passed in front of the soon to be slaves, and they all touched, felt, and examined the merchandise. The first two had been in the front of the auction yelling and carrying on. They both vowed that they would purchase Marie and almost got into a fight about it. They both viciously tweaked her nipples and pulled on her vaginal lips, bringing tears to Marie’s eyes. She did not openly cry, however, as they had promised the same thing to all the other women in line, albeit from a distance with the first one. She hoped and believed that she had performed well enough to be beyond such bids.
The next was an older gentleman. He also felt each woman, albeit much more gently, and paused at both Marie and the girl who was still sobbing and had not really performed. He was very tender with the crying girl though, and looked anxiously at her wrists where she was bound. Marie guessed the man felt sorry for the girl and would probably bid on her. This worried her.
Next through the door was a tall blonde man who couldn’t have been much older than Marie. He was well dressed and walked with confidence. He did not look mean but had a sort of hard look to his brown eyes. He gave the struggling muscular woman an odd look and skipped her completely. He touched and felt on the two girls and looked them in the eyes. They both looked shyly away. Marie flushed but held his gaze. He smiled at her and only lightly brushed the last woman.
The last man to walk through the door was the man who had caught the muscular woman. He spent the most time with the first girl, roughly squeezing and pulling on her most private parts. He grabbed at the woman’s cheek, but she turned her head and bit his hand. Outraged, the man punched her directly in the stomach, knocking the breath from the muscle-bound girl. Some of the trainer slaves approached the man but he calmly sidestepped them and took his seat. As he sat, he pointed at the woman still trying to catch her breath. She looked beseechingly at the trainer slaves but they merely shrugged, considering the matter settled.
The auction rules were explained to the seated men. They were going to bid on the muscular woman first then go down the line. Each man would be given time to gather their slave and exit the room before the next one was bid upon. This would keep fighting to a minimum. The bidding for the muscular woman started at one hundred thousand dollars. The last girl would be sold for an average of what the other girls went for.
The muscular man immediately bid two hundred thousand. No one contested this offer, as no one wanted to tame a woman bigger than they.
There was some drama getting her disconnected from her bonds as she attempted to fight her way free yet again. The big man eventually knocked her out with his fist and carried her over his shoulder out of the room.
A small bidding war occurred over the little redheaded girl, and she began to cry as she realized that one of the drunken men the front row was going to win her. The older gentleman and the blonde man both made a token effort, but in the end the winning bid was $150,000 to the loudest, most obnoxious man that had been in the crowd. One of the training slaves hobbled her feet with a chain, pulled her hands down behind her back, secured them there with handcuffs, and attached a leash and collar to her neck. The drunken man was almost drooling by the time he took the leash, and pulled her quickly out the back door. Marie watched her go, pitying her but thankful that one of the dangerous men were gone.
The brunette went in similar fashion to the other loud man. Instead of crying, she stiffened up, as if she could protest her way out of the situation. She ended up being dragged by one of her breasts out the back door. As the door was opened, Marie could hear the little redhead screaming as she was being raped by her new owner.
The older man and the blonde man both bid on Marie. The bidding was well over half a million dollars before the blonde man finally won. Her final price was $767,000. She never felt like she was worth so much in her life. The mistress did not bind her hands or her feet, eliciting a strange look from Marie.
“I’ll see you at home!” she said. “No one ever said that a man couldn’t attend more than one auction. I put in a good word for you and your performance was better than mine was when Master Jerint bought me. It put him over the top! We’re basically sisters now! You can call me Sarah now that we’re living together.”
She was holding Marie’s hands looking very happy. She looked over at Jerint and quickly looked subdued. Marie looked at him and realized he was not-so-patiently waiting for her. She said goodbye to Sarah and followed her new master out the door.
He placed a cloak over her bare shoulders and led her outside to a waiting limo. Her bare feet touched the cold cement and she immediately began to shiver; she had forgotten it was now winter as this was the first time she had been outdoors since she was bought here. Once she was in the warm limo, Jerint slid in beside her and had her remove the cloak.
He held her as he would hold a lover as the limo took them to Marie’s new home.
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