Archer couldn’t believe it. “Alcina—Sabrina—please…have mercy on me!” he begged. She merely glanced at him with an air of elegant disdain. He was shocked…and strangely aroused.
“I’ll have a limousine waiting out front,” Sabrina said.
The installation of the orgasm controller involved merely a modification to what had already been installed; it didn’t fill him with the same near-hysteria as the first installation—but…no orgasms? Was Alcina—he had to think of her as Sabrina now—only an agent for the Countess? Had she been so all along? Or was Alcina—Sabrina—out for revenge…revenge for being a slave, or revenge for being abandoned? He shivered. Helplessness was new to him, and he didn’t like it at all. And uncertainty, especially with so much at stake, was even worse.
He was given a slave’
