Chapter Ten
At Home With Turk II
In the morning, Denise was awoken by the swinging open of her cell door. The gray haired old lady entered singing to herself contentedly. She carried a bowl of porridge and a glass of milk for her young charge. She placed them on the floor and released the bonds around her ankles and thighs.
Denise had spent a tormented night. She had squirmed and struggled with the straps around her legs. Her ability to adjust her sleeping pose was limited to the shifting of her head from side to side. Her arms, held taut behind her, felt useless, not really part of her anymore. She had cried a while after the old lady had left and then drifted off to fitful sleep. When her natural urge to adjust her body during sleep came, she awoke with a start, frustrated and surpris
