Images of past captives flitted through his mind. That redhead, Cindy. That first time, after they caught her, they led her off into the woods on horseback. He could still see her sitting erect in the saddle, stark naked, her hands cuffed behind her. She’d said nothing at all on the trip out, and her face never changed its stoic expression, but when he’d lifted her out of the saddle, it had been wet. Then there was that brunette, some business executive. She’d wanted to be captured by white slavers, trained and sold. A very voluptuous woman, and so very eager to please. Sometimes they knew exactly what they wanted when they signed up. Sometimes they were wrong. Well, the full treatment wasn’t for everybody. And sometimes they wanted it all so badly, but just couldn’t let themselves go to g
