He could smell her fear of that very nature she had expressed through her movements but he also could see the fear that she would be purchased and per...aps, even, her fear that she wouldn’t. The auctioneer’s voice pierced the stunned silence of the crowd that had seen her performance and were able to glance into the slave girl she had tried so hard to keep hidden from them. “What am I bid?” came his cry and he was answered by dozens of voices lifting, shouting out prices for the barbarian girl. Discretion was obviously important to him so when I was visiting my school friend, Mr Webster would slip me a little note with a place and time to meet and I would confirm with a nod or a wink if it suited. Typically that would be a quiet corner of town and I would keep low in the passenger seat until he had driven well out of town, then he would find a lonely layby or forest carpark and I would change into one of his preferred outfits. His favourite was my schoolgirl outfit, black pleated. More

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