"Sometimes I just like to see my slaves displayed. Take this redheaded beauty, for example. What's that? No, you can't have her. She's here exclusively for my use. If you want the slave markets, go downstairs. The house of Honest Omar only takes the very creme-de-la-creme for our own uses, you know. No, old chap, I know you run a whisky company, you still couldn't afford her, trust me."

"Now, where was I? Oh yes, displays. This A-frame contraption is a variation of Skeffington's gyves or the Scavenger's daughter. The collar, you see, forms and anchoring point. The triangle of spreader bars constrain her movement almost completely, but not destructively in the way the original torture device was designed to do. That hint of articulation at the corners converts this into a restrictive, even punitive, experience for the slave girl but not a harmful one. It also adds an element of challenge- can you see how subtly, how sublimely she moves to position herself to good effect? Try doing that in the Scavenger's daughter."

He pauses to pat the elegant redhead on the head. "Exquisite. You are a credit to this establishment. I will have the staff bring you to dinner this evening. Scarlett, isn't it?" She is too well-trained to raise her eyes without permission. She nods her assent. "Well, Scarlett, I look forward to the pleasure."