Steamy Dreams
Jasmine stared at her reflection in the mirror, her stomach tightening with shame. The all-white uniform the captured women were forced to wear was nothing like the modest dresses of her old life. The cropped top clung tightly to her chest, and the princess neckline made it so that any form of bending would expose the tops of her bosoms. The skirt, though long, was thin, hugging her from behind, and sat low on her hips, revealing her navel. Every inch of the outfit seemed designed to humiliate. Around her, the other women dressed in silence, each avoiding the mirror, each lost in her own quiet despair.