It is obvious?her arms are secured in some way for?she makes no attempt to save herself and her?smothered face hits the pavement.?The other?is jerked ...suddenly to her knees?head half turning, blind and unaware of the reason for the?halt." Up object! " He yanks at the woman's leash and she tries to rise, legs struggling to find some leverage. He kicks at her legs and they both hear a muffled yelp. They see her struggle to rise, hampered by her companion." Walk on Nikki " whispers Estelle, guiding. “You speak English?” I demanded. He affirmed, with a little bow of his head. “Who is she, and where’s she from?”“Senor, I do not know her name, she is from North Africa, the desert regions far inland from the coast, I believe that her people are called the Wodaabe or possibly the Fulani.Later I would learn from our doctor, that the Wodaabe were a nomadic tribe living along the southern edges of the Sahara, they were not Negro, some thought they originated centuries ago from Egypt. Their. After a few more keystrokes Sam said a Dark Web history with the designator “David Barnes, Esquire, Los Angeles” attached went to Pune, India and took up residence on a private server there.Barnes recalled a guy who looked like a desi (a person of Indian, Pakistani, or Bangladeshi birth or ancestry) on the tech installation team - a quiet guy who rarely spoke but delivered some devastating quips.Sam knew the guy. “Last week he got picked up as a writer on the pilot for a TV comedy, I think it. The woman pulls my leash. I know from being trained that I am to fall to my knees without argument. I think maybe she is my new owner, but then I realize she is wearing a collar as well. She must be a slave, but a higher ranking one than me. Still, I know my place. I hit the ground and I spread my legs, wide as they can go."A slave must always be spread for her owner," my trainer taught me. "Her valuable parts must always be accessible. Her owner must be able to get to them. Whenever you can,.