”He leaned forward and kissed me again.“What do need to know?” he asked. His mouth was warm and dry, his tongue trying to find its way past my l...ps. I didn’t let it in but he seemed content to kiss me anyhow.“What’s your real job?” I asked.He laughed against my mouth.“Rude. But graphic designer. Wedding stationary etcetera. You?”I flushed.“I work for a – uh – kinda advertising thing.”He frowned.“Job title?”I flushed harder.“Uh – it’s silly. Kinda pretentious. You’ll laugh at me again.”“Tell me.. ? ?You will refer to all prison staff as ‘sir’!? ?Yes sir.? ?Any misdemeanours will be harshly punished, especially in your public whipping. I have no sympathy for you. Do you understand?? ?Yes sir,? she said reluctantly. Baxter signalled to one of the half dozen guards in the room. He started taking full-frontal pictures of Tabatha for records, taking pictures at every forty-five degrees. Baxter walked round to her rear. Two ‘T’s for ‘Traitor’ were branded. More

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