In the full-length mirror to my left, I can see my short, sheer, pink plastic dress, with matching bonnet and booties. I can see three bags of my past..., drug-sweetened gruel hanging on high wall hooks behind me. I can see the chains the shackle me to my chair. So maybe I'm just a crybaby.After all, I've dreamed of surrendering all control and responsibility to a cruel, impossible-to-please temptress, and my mistress is indeed as mean and cruel as they come. I worship her and live only to obey. Light played along the gold rings piercing her nipples.“What do you think she's doing, Master?” Zanyia asked as she crouched beside me in that cat-like manner she was fond of. Her tawny years twitched and flicked, her tail swishing behind her.“Breaking the stone,” I answered.“I know that,” the lamia said. I could hear the eye roll in her words. “But how? She's just staring at it.”“I'm directing the spirits that neither of you can see,” Aingeal said, her voice strained. “But they are not very. More

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