Chapter Thirty-six
Over the ensuing days, each morning I am fed, injected with hormones, carefully sponge bathed to assure the artist’s lines remain then led to the salon. There Miss Greenwich Village continues to slowly work her tattoo needles over major portions of my body. Neither Ms. Powers nor any maids massage my n*****s.
While I long for relief, the artist indeed takes her time. She is very much amused on the third day when my breasts begin to give up milk with a constant ooze, either dripping to the table if I am kneeling or collecting and then dribbling down the body of my mammary gland when lying supine.
The girl seems to prefer me kneeling with my nose ring loosely tied under the table. The flow of breast milk is easily countered with a very absorbent towel covering the surf
