I turn to my main target. I grab her elbows and lift her to stand. I pick up the small whip attached to my belt.“Strip down to your underwear.”She...freezes until my arm threatens to whip her. With a shriek and the first sign of her lovely tears, she quickly removes her house-dress, takes off her running shoes and socks. I grab her shoulder, turn her facing away from me toward her man, and grab the slave collar from my left pocket. I secure the collar to her lovely neck, attach the six foot. ‘But why me?’ she asked, crossing one shapely leg over the other, and causing her skirt to ride up several inches of silk-stockinged thigh. Hancock’s eyes seemed glued below her waist. He looked up and caught her scornful stare, and blushed, fingering the collar of his shirt. ‘Because of your outstanding record in both the Homicide Department and the Vice Squad!’ he replied, blinking. ‘And your, ah, obvious physical attributes!’ he added, seemingly almost as an afterthought. ‘The FBI want you. More

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