Chapter Thirty-Three
128 kneels on all fours. She has been caged. The enclosure low, she cannot stand and with wrist and ankle bands secured to the bars, such is assured. A short chain clipping to her neck collar to the bars below also assures she must keep her head down. And with space limited, her back is arched, mandating her buttocks be perched high, her branding prominent.
“I’ve always been intrigued with the permanency of Nusquam’s indoctrination,” Miss Florence muses, her right hand slipping through the bars, fingers smoothing over the engorged flesh of the bright red letter ‘N’. “I suppose it’s possible to shuck your steel bands, grow back your hair. But the tattooed number on your forehead, and the branding... highlighted by the dye introduced to your open wounds... make it impo
