Nothing was broken but his hand was swollen and purple. That wasn't the only thing that was swollen and purple to say the least. Bob was turned on lik... never before. What sort of woman would do that? What sort of women would show no remorse, not even an ounce of guilt or empathy after doing something so harsh? The woman of his dreams, that's what sort of woman. All his life he'd fantasized about a woman who was unapologetically cruel and sadistic. She was Black, attractive, not quite rich but. Orderly opened a different door and led me into a much largerroom. It, too, was windowless and made of concrete blocks paintedpink. The overhead lights were bright but did not glare.The workroom held two long rows of tables with stools next to them. Onthe stools sat girls wearing old-fashioned dresses with snug bodicesand full, calf-length skirts. Over their dresses they wore frillywhite cotton smocks with big patch pockets. All of them had their hairin pigtails. They lifted their heads to look. More

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