The lithe girl sauntered down the hallway checking out the inmates. She peered into one cell and saw the occupant busily brushing her long, fiery-red hair. In another cell, the inmate was sound asleep, snoring slightly. She had just returned from a long session with a man who wanted to go around the world – and did.
The guardian straightened, smoothing her form-fitting fur jacket. The mink was of the finest quality, yet the jacket was tailored in a style vastly different from most. There were no sleeves; alabaster-white arms gleamed in the light of the hallway. The jacket laced up the front, leaving hand-wide sections of skin exposed under the wide, leather-thong lacing.
Snowy melons of unfettered tits bulged out into the valley between the bands of fur in a most enticing and erotic display. With each slight movement, the girl's jugs swayed gently and rubbed against the fur lining in the jacket – the garment had fur inside and out.
Her short skirt barely covered a pert, well fanned ass and exposed long, shapely legs. Her every movement was studied, graceful, a delight to behold. Indeed, the entire costume was designed to attract attention, and it did in a most spectacular fashion.
The only incongruity of the costume was a short whip dangling from a leather wrist strap.
Mindy swept back her golden cascade of hair and continued her [missing text]. It had not been pretty, but it was a triumph of justice if not mercy. She was further heartened by the thought that she had found her niche at The Institute. In Michelle's place.
And Mindy knew that the position of personal secretary to Dr. Hunt would soon be open. Her horizons were now limitless.
Yesterday, inmate.
Today, guardian.
Tomorrow, assistant to the director.
And, one day, possibly even director of The Institute.