Imagine a warden who couldn’t find his way around his own prison.
That’s exactly how the warden looked like. He had personally decided to handle our paperwork even though the superintendent was available. And the poor man couldn’t even concentrate. He was lost in the clouds of glorious oily boobs.
Candy started squirming and exposing her already exposed breasts. I wanted to decorate her cheeks with the back of my palm, but I just eyeballed her instead. Amongst all of us she was the one with the smallest breasts yet she showed it off more often than any of us. If that girl had huge boobs she would place a headgear underneath and carry them like a trophy!!
Besides I couldn’t cut loose anyway. Thanks to two other bimbos who couldn’t wait till we were released before fighting like dogs in heat, we were all cuffed to each other. It was a pathetic sight.
There were about 12 of us. The lighting was dim so I couldn’t really see.
I had been told stories of these random arrests but I always thought I was too smart for them.
Besides I was a high-class worker and Deonne reserved us for high-profile people who prefer sophisticated venues to Deonne’s. But today, luck was clearly not on my side.
I work at Deonne’s Décor and no, we don’t decorate homes and offices; we decorate souls, literally. We rid you of all the tension in your muscles and leave you calm and satisfied. Deonne’s is a sophisticated establishment which offers comprehensive satisfactory services for clients.
At least that’s what it says on the signboard. But what it really was; was a brothel.
Deonne had scheduled a meeting with us earlier that day. She said there were new products from La Senza that she wanted to distribute. The usual was; she calls to inform you of the place, name of client and how much you’re taking and your cut. But this time we met at the brothel, in one of the rooms. Everybody was ooh-ing and aah-ing, La Senza always leaves that effect.
You want to walk around all day in nothing but bra and panties and you feel like your ass and boobs are worth a million bucks because they look so damn good in them.
Deonne shoved a small shopping bag into my hand and asked me to get ready; a client had requested for me. The other girls were tossing their panties off and slipping into the new goods. Deonne was shouting on top of her voice. I peeped into the bag. The panties were gorgeous! There was a black mesh thong with red trimmings at the edge and a bowtie on each side. I slipped my green panties off and put them on. I may have jiggled my ass in excitement.
We were just about to disperse when five (not one, not two, not three, but FIVE!!!) policemen bust into the room as is if it were a scene in NCIS. Next thing I know, we’re locked up in a smelly cell cuffed to each other.
I was sweaty and in need of a long luxurious bath. My left arm was bruised; one of the policemen grabbed and dragged me like I was Tasmanian’s club. I was greatly angered, my bra strap had come off and I looked totally ridiculous trying to strap it on. But none of this was as disturbing as the trauma my ass was going through.
The mesh thong was comfortably residing in the depth of my butt, and the edge of these new panties was tearing my skin apart. My skin was on fire. I wish I could free one finger; just one finger so I could remove this bloody thong out of my ass.
After five minutes of swinging my butt cheeks to and fro on the floor in an attempt to remove the thong, I started praying.
It was much worse. My whole butt area was on fire. The stupid thong was still comfortably ratting my ass out.
“God, I’ll go to church next Sunday, and in a decent dress. Please, just let them take these cuffs off. I promise to rock granny panties henceforth. Please”
The girl sitting next to me was staring hard at me.
If only she knew. If only….