“Do you know,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, “what the most appalling part of a collared slave’s torture is? It is not knowing that another claims to own you. It is not that they control you with pain. It is not even the knowledge that with the push of a button they can annihilate you at will, and you would never even see their face.” He said nothing, but she knew he was listening. And she guessed he was watching, warily, to see what she would do. “I look at this device now and shudder. Yet I used it, to force a slave’s will to my own. Or gave it to others, whose desires were often
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