He had never seen a person so badly beaten in his life and from what I can see, he wasn't kidding."She looked up at Cindy's face and for the first time smiled warmly saying, "Cindy, you better get your clothes back on or you'll catch your death."The girl quickly got dressed and was then startled when Ali proceeded carefully to brush her hair and then comb it out. When she finished she said with a grin, "Jan, I see what you mean. Slave Cindy does cheat. She uses two bobby-pins in her hair. That's almost the same as wearing tons of makeup, isn't it."Cindy returned to her seat while Jan used the telephone intercom. A few moments later one of the slave girls appeared with a tray and three cups of egg nog. As she entered the room, she squared her shoulders and straightened her back causing her breasts to thrust upward. The girl was one of the newest hires in the bank and didn't yet have her slave collar. Like Kelly, she was just wearing a big red bow in her hair and a small one pinned to. The space was empty. Solid beams supported the structure and were the only things disturbing the cleanly swept floor. But the walls were covered. Covered with photographs. Thousands upon thousands of photographs, lined side by side. They formed an enormous mural of images. There were portraits and snapshots, black and white stills, daguerreotypes and miniatures. There were wedding pictures and pictures of casual affairs. There were women and men, children and babies, and couples and families. Every emotion was characterized. A mother, with an infant on her lap, beamed with pride. A couple stared at each other dreamily. A soldier stood stiffly with a stolid expression. A bride smiled with hope filling her eyes. A family hugged with the joy of togetherness. There were so many I was overwhelmed. I reverently walked around, trying to see as many as I could. A child with a toothy grin sat waist high in scattered wrapping paper, holding up a toy train. A woman in black, with.
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