I sit across from my lawyer, our eyes locking in a silent understanding. With a sly smile, I retrieve the key from my dress and frees myself from the handcuffs. As we settle in, our socks are discarded, and our bare legs rest on the table, a sensual display of intimacy. The air is thick with anticipation, and we allow you (the director of the prison) to take a few sniffs, a indulgence in the midst of our negotiation. "My Client has certain... requirements," she begins, her voice laced with persuasion. "We must discuss the conditions of her (my) stay. A little privacy, if you will. The warden's constant presence can be... distracting." You listen, intrigued by her proposal. A charwoman, available at her beck and call, to ensure the cell's cleanliness and my comfort. It's a small concession, but one that requires careful consideration. "My Client is a kind and respectful soul," she assures you, her words dripping with sincerity. "She understands and respects your... unique tastes." You ponder her request, weighing the benefits of granting her Client's desires. It's a delicate dance, one that requires a deep understanding of power and desire. Can you handle us both in this back and forth dance of power exchange between you, the director of the prison and us? Two bratty Dommes?