No-one has the right to lay a hand on you without permission. It's fucking slavery. It's not right..." Shh, don't wake the old girl," Moira Lys cautio...ed. "She's right, Secoweya. Kids, here, are brought up believing their bodies are sacred. What Mirri said is true. Some of the Anarchist bands arm their kids from about 13 onwards. Most learn knife play since so high. I haven't heard of anyone beating a child, but, if there were, I'm fairly sure that person is no longer around." But kids need to. I hear munching and slurping behind us. The enormous screen flashes to life. Jenna watches intently. My latest horror show is starting. There’s Candi, in a white sundress with blue flowers, barefoot. She’s setting two empty wine glasses and a bottle of red on the coffee table in front of the couch. Pink hair and nails, just like I have now. The dress is form-fitting, a little sexy, but not overmuch. Kind of a girl next door thing. Candi wore that dress maybe four movies ago. In that flick, she. After about 5 minutes,I was getting accustomed,I was able to open my eyes and saw myself. My face was in a strange reaction,a mixture of pleasure and pain but thoroughly happy.My FIL’s face looked too contorted as if he was concentrating on taking a dump.When he saw me looking at my reflection,he smiled and said “Nice mangoes”I looked at the reflection to see my breasts swinging back and forth like a pendulum.I sort of liked it with the mango comparison.Soon enough,pressure built up in and me. I saw several men in suits sitting at a large back table and headed that way. When I walked up to the table, a man about sixty or so stood up and shook my hand and introduced everyone. Three were commissioners, one was the prosecuting attorney, and the other one was from the city managers office. I sat and ordered coffee and waited for someone to tell me why I was here. The oldest one whose name was Mike or Mick or something was evidently the one chosen to do all the talking and he was doing a.