In the middle of the small room was a chair that looked kind of like a barber chair except with bigger and wider arms.There was also a small table lik... a massage table. The walls were the only real indication of what the place really was. The walls were covered with tattoo designs of all kinds and colors. There were tribal designs, skulls, flowers, hearts, and different fonts for lettering ideas.On one side of the main room was a display case with contained hundreds of different type and styles. And Henrietta had listened. Obeyed, listened some more. Slut had been so grateful, when rescued from the desperate scene that She, Chantel, herself, had created. And slut wasn't kinky, not really, no more than she had been made to be. Chantel felt irony at that. I should get away. Get away from this. Get away now! Suddenly it had an urgentness to it. Suddenly things felt closing in. And now suddenly, Chantel realized she had made a terrible mistake. Desiree. Desiree. Desiree. Desiree was only. More

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