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of the girls look away, while a couple of
them stare defiantly at the Warden. Once the stage has moved one
full circle, they change their pose again, this time standing up and
bending down to grab their ankles, giving the audience a clear view
of their naked butts. The next pose involves them dropping to all
fours and arching their backs. Finally they kneel again with their
hands behind their heads, their chests thrust forward.
    The Warden nods once, and the
girls grab their clothes and clamber off the stage. The next five
girls move up the stage and repeat the poses. I watch the girls,
committing their poses to memory. There are another five groups
before me, so I have ample time to watch and learn.
    It isn't so hard. It is easier
than that degrading dance that I had to do with the Sirens at the
Palace. We were draped in grapes and desserts, and we were
essentially dancing fruit and dessert platters for the Emperor and
his guests. We had to dance in front of them, without flinching or
whimpering even when they grabbed and pinched, and bit and suckled
us. Here at least there would be no hands and mouths on us while we
are on the stage. I think. I hope.
    The five girls move off the
stage, and I move up the line, closer to the stage. I watch the
girls strike their poses, and by the third batch of girls, I have
fully memorized all the positions. I can do this.
    The Warden's whistle sounds.
    It is my turn.
    I blink against the bright
lights on the stage and stumble up the steps. The girls
instinctively spread out so that we are equidistant apart on the
stage. The spotlight is in my eyes so I can't see the Warden or the
other girls. At the Warden's whistle, I strip quickly and try to
stand tall. My heart is thudding so loudly I can hardly hear my own
labored breathing. I glance to the girl on my right and see that she
has dropped to her knees. I follow suit and clumsily cup my breasts
with my hands. I have to remind myself not to grimace, and just keep
my face blank. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the other girls
moving to change poses and I imitate their movements as best and as
smoothly as I can.
    The stage revolves endlessly and
I have to fight to keep my eyes open. I am growing so dizzy I am
afraid I might just topple off the stage and land face first on the
floor.
    Spreading my legs
self-consciously, I have to close my eyes to stem the rising nausea.
    “ Stop!” The Warden's
voice rings out.
    The stage grinds to a halt, and
I scramble up in a daze.
    “ Remain in position!”
the Warden orders as she marches up the stage. I tense as she stalks
towards me.
    “ You.” She prods my
back with her knee. “Spread your legs wider. This is what
they came to see. Show it off. Put your hands on the inside of your
thighs and stretch your legs wide apart. Wider!”
    “ I...I c-can't,” I
stammer, wincing from the sharp cramp in my leg.
    “ You can't?” the
Warden asks in a dangerous tone. “Or you won't?”
    “ I can't!” I cry,
struggling up. “Really, I'm trying but it hurts...”
    “ You're not trying hard
enough.”
    She pushes my shoulder down with
her knee and pulls out a gun. Pressing the gun to the back of my
head, she says, “Now. Try again.”
    Blinking away the cold sweat
trickling down my forehead, I pull my legs apart, placing my hands on
my thighs. The cramp down my right leg is twisting my muscles into
knots. I just can't move my leg a single inch more. This is killing
me! And if this cramp doesn't kill me, the gun at the back of my
head would finish the job.
    Gritting my teeth, I force my
legs as wide as they would go. The Warden stoops down suddenly and
puts her hands on my knees. She wrenches my legs back, and I scream
in pain. “This,” she hisses into my hair. “This
is how far you have to go.”
    Tears spurt from my eyes as I
nod mutely. She releases my legs and I maintain my position, my
whole body quaking.
    The Warden steps away from me
and strolls down the steps. “Good, very good.”