The 3rd book in Rosemary's saga, and if you thought the first two books were hard, then prepare yourself for a thrill as Rosemary no heads into a world of enslavement.

A taster...

The negro, Saul, strolled in to take morning inspection on a day soon after Rosemary and Donald’s arrival. His tight casual jeans and open necked shirt scarcely hid his muscled body, bulging and gleaming beneath. It almost urged to be released from its covering. Towering six inches over Donald, he probably weighed several stone of solid muscle, more. He put down a bag he was carrying and walked directly in front of the pair, eyeing them up and down with an amused air. Donald had never felt so inadequate as he stood rigid, hands on head, wearing only the tiny poser pouch before the giant. Both he and Rosemary remained tensely silent, staring straight ahead. “Dress standards seem OK. I’ve seen you before, ain’t I, girl?” Saul demanded, looking Rosemary up and down, drinking in the thrust of her breasts through the tee-shirt, her shapely bare bottom beneath and her doll-like sensual face framed with tousled fair hair.