Jessica stalked around the bulky, muscled slave. Her boot heels echoed off the hardwood floor of Francis’ former study. She’d had the office conve...ted into a mini dungeon; a personal play room she used with Francis and any other slaves that caught her eye.Francis knelt near the wall, sealed in his latex gimp suit. His mouth was gagged and his arms and legs were locked behind him. Adam, on the other hand, was naked in his prison of metal. Jessica had decided he didn’t deserve the sensual touch. The stark clapboard sided homes here – even the nicer ones – couldn’t hold a candle to the beautiful Antebellum homes and mansions of the south. There were few if any flowering trees here whereas back home the scents of Magnolias, Crepe Myrtles and other flora sweetened the air. The people were different too. Back home, even the toughest shipbuilders in Pascagoula addressed people as “sir or ma’am.” Up north, women Susan’s age tended to bristle if called ma’am, as though if they were being. More

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