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Then, of course, the new clothes helped too. It was a fairly vicious satire of her office "uniform" in that it was an ultra-tight, ultra-short miniskirt-suit with thigh-high stockings and five-inch ankle-strap high heels. Her ankles were crossed and strapped together, as were her knees. Her arms were behind her, her wrists and elbows strapped together thrusting out her chest, which was barely contained by a tight white shirt, open to her stomach. The cop's swollen, bruise-covered lower face was swathed with duct tape in a big asterisk shape. "We're not gonna find broken teeth under there, are we?" the sibling asked pointedly. Butch held up his hands innocently. "No way, man. I ain't gonna mess with your bro, in or out of stir. Don't worry, I followed orders." "Nothing broken?" Aggie repeated. Butch seemed to think about it. "Maybe a split lip," he admitted as Kirkorian seemed to blubber, body shaking, cheeks fluttering. "But that's all, I swear! She'll recover good as new...." He looked at the blond, savoring the memory of her assault. "Maybe better...." She wore only a dark suit jacket, buttoned at the stomach, barely covering her bulging breasts and blond tuft. Her ankles, too, were crossed and affixed with black industrial tape (the kind strengthened with inner wire); her feet in five-inch, black, ankle-strap high heels. Her arms were behind her, wrists also crossed and wrapped with the industrial tape. Her NYPD badge was clipped to the jacket's breast pocket in a mocking salute. The sibling looked carefully at the two firmly seat belted in place. "Yeah," he agreed, straightening. "They'll fetch a good price, even in this condition." "They sure will," Aggie said with obvious anticipation. "A cop and a d.a.? Ones who look like they do? They'll be a gold mine for some industrious long as he...or she...keeps them hidden away for special clients...the ones who were "wronged" by the system." "Shit," the sibling drawled. "As soon as the skels they put away hear about it, there'll be a line...with many, many 'repeat offenders....'" "Hey, don't worry," Butch said. "Everybody at this sale'll be discreet. They know it would be a slow, torturing death from the sellers if they fuck up. These guys are pros. Where do you think my stepdaughter and her friends went? They know what to do with such prime product...!' Aggie leaned down in the opening of the car's back door. "You hear that, girls? Today's the first day of the rest of your sex slaves. Got any questions?" The brunette and blond just stared at her in horror from over their gags. "Ah...oh yes," Aggie continued, ignoring their reactions. "I'll bet you'd like to know why all your attempts to fry my incarcerated soul mate won't work...why, in a few short months, the man you worked so hard to convict for killing a sweet, innocent, little nurse will be paying his money and waiting on line to fuck you again... just like every other scumbag skel in New York...." Jule just seemed to collapse, her head thunking on the shelf under the rear window, and Chloe started to sob hysterically.

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