It was the same kind of collar that Amanda wore, and Joan knew that if she placed herself into submission to Myrna, she would become like Amanda. Myrn... would have won again.Even though Myrna had allowed the collar to be fitted around her neck she had struggled continually. Now the roles were reversed.As if the guilt Joan felt were not enough, Myrna was now insisting the path to forgiveness for the havoc lay in enslavement.Darkly, a secret thrill rushed to Joan's womb. She had never played that. There were gratings, and coal-vaults beneath the street similar to those beneath’ the linendraper’s shop. Workmen’s wives bringing their husbands’ dinners, used to stand and sometimes sit down over the gratings, but their Iegs when seen were rarely worth the seeing; it was usually but a sight of dingy petticoats, and dirty stockings. We were however content to look up at them, for they belonged to women, but soon tired of doing so.One night (we had never been there at night before), for some. Jessica was always afraid her day to roast would come one day but she had prayed that day would come much later in life or better yet never come at all, but now here she sat on the bed with Stacey her best friend who in turn wished for nothing more then to be a beautiful spit muffin but was to young to roast at only 18 she had a whole year left to wait for her dream day roast.Jessica thought and thought for a way out of roasting for hours but still nothing came to mind until her twin brother. "Deana lifted her leg to his hip and rotated it, so her calf hugged his back. "Carry me."He stepped up and her other leg wrapped around him. He grabbed her butt first, then moved his hands to her lower back. She dug her chin into his shoulder.He said, “You know how long it's been since you made me carry you to your room after beating me at cards?" You used to carry me up the stairs," she said. "Drop me off at my bed, please."It was a short trip from the basement door to her bed. He leaned over.