When Daniel got my clothes off, he almost didn’t let me use the bathroom. I had to fight him off, or risk an accident. He finally got the message an... let me go.” Abby’s story ground to a halt for a few minutes. I was hanging on her every word, so the delay really got my attention. Mr. Johnson was almost as rapt with her story as I was, so we both waited impatiently for her to organize her thoughts and deal with the sadness those memories evoked.She took a deep breath, looked at me as if she was. I rather enjoyed looking at myself, in the arms of a handsome and wealthy white man, dressed and appearing as a beautiful woman, and knowing I was a slave. Or more precisely, knowing that I was beyond the limits of a mere slave. I'd become something else and that was the source of my pride as much as anything else, that sense of worth I felt at being owned precisely because I was loved. It was the only way the man could have me and elevated me above everyone else. A romantic notion, certainly,. More

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