South America: The depraved lust of the Generalisimo Sandoval is the only law in Paramundo. Even the dictator's supporters, the Sandovalistas, have to hand over their daughters to a shocking fate to gain his favors. And any American gringuitas who stray in his path are highly prized and rarely find the way back to their homes again.
FROM THE BOOK:
Irresistibly she was pulled forward on her hobbled legs around the side of the truck. There stood all the other girls in line in the dust of the prison yard, one behind the other, each one linked by a short chain to a collar around the neck of the one in front. They were standing so close to each other, that their breasts, for the most part bare, touched the bound arms of the girl in front.
Jacinta found herself pushed against the same mestiza she had been forced to sit next to in the truck, found herself staring at the girl's long black hair. Her naked breasts, the nipples standing prominently in the open air, pressed against the objectionable half-breed girl's arms.
At her involuntary touch the girl turned her head, and Jacinta could see her lovely eyes, and the full lips around the heavy gag. She looked away quickly, as far as the tight collar of the snatch-stick would allow, unwilling to meet the other one's gaze.
"Face front, you two," growled the man who held the snatch-stick.
When Jacinta strained to look at him, he squeezed the trigger on the snatch-stick, and Jacinta felt the collar tighten around her throat, and continue to tighten until she faced the front. Another soldier pushed her chin up and fastened a collar around her neck. He snapped a chain to the ring of the collar, then moved the hair of the mestiza out of the way to link the chain to the back of her collar.
The snatch-stick was released, and Jacinta once more could breath easier. Again she tried to look around, and again someone yelled, "Face front, slut!"
In any case she could see little of where they were: the side of the truck, a high wall lined with spikes and the blue sky above, that was all. It didn't matter. Jacinta knew well enough where that bitch Ana Sandoval had brought her - Comandante Sandoval, as she styled herself!
A uniformed female guard was going down the line. Jacinta could see her now, checking the collars on each girl, checking their bonds. It was hot standing there in the sun, but she was taking her time, coolly appraising each girl. She moved the hair of the mestiza in front and tugged on the chain with her slender fingers. She gripped a bunch of Jacinta's hair and pulled back her head, then tested the chain on the front of her collar. Jacinta looked her in the face. She was a pretty, dark-haired girl, with peasant's eyes. A shop-girl, thought Jacinta. Not all her becoming uniform, her little forage cap perched on her head, her tan shirt, her tight brown skirt, even the coiled whip under her arm, none of it could change that. A common shop-girl.
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