"She'll do very well. Collect her." I giggled at the words, and the man at my back groaned, shoving me to the side, the younger man still catching his breath. "Quickly," the cool voice ordered. "Before she recovers." I was drunk and vulnerable in my satisfaction. My hands were limp as someone covered my face with fabric, thrusting a coarse bag over my head. I scratched weakly at the hand that wrestled my arms behind my back. And still I laughed, cried, trembled in the wake of my traitorous guests' pleasure. I was trapped, though I didn't yet know what kind of cage had fallen down around me in
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