“Mika,” I answered. We never married, but we were as close as any husband and wife. Black porn I strapped on my sword around my waist, looking to Tom for his orders. For forty-three years I had been Tom’s first slave, the mistress of his harem, and the mother of his daughter. I needed to survive—to protect Tom, my daughter, all the other slaves. He was afraid of being attacked and wanted the three of us who knew how to fight to be free tonight. He must be stressed if he feels the need to discipline another slave. Somehow, Mark and Mary’s control over the world was slipping. “There was another protest in Beijing,” I told him. Everyday, my master Tom would select one of a dozen different outfits for his slaves to wear from traditional Japanese school girl uniforms—the fuku—to nurse uniforms, waitresses, goth-lolita, gym clothes, swim wear, and more. Many of the girls were lovers. Yurika failed to parry a crowbar, her ribs breaking, and she dropped in a heap.
