Giulia and Ilary were on their way to Spain to be married when the pirates struck. In an instant, their privileged lives are over and men with ropes and whips are in control. Instead of a rich dowry, all they have to offer now is pleasing flesh and the hot blood of a Venetian heritage.

Chained and naked in a coffle, they encounter Titus, a young knight whose life as a crusader has been meticulously planned by his father. Titus has nothing against slavery--it's a common practice of the day--even when it involves innocent European girls.

The nightmares continue--sometimes it’s in the slave market, stripped and hung for buyers; sometimes it’s at the whipping post, writhing, screaming for mercy; sometimes it’s in the collar, reduced to being a man’s pet, kneeling at his feet.

Ilary vows never to leave Venice again. But when her ambitious husband demands that she accompany him to negotiations in North Africa, she doesn’t dare refuse. She should have kept her vow, something she realizes only after the pirates kill the entire delegation and take her hostage...again.

Katarina groaned in pain. The Moors had braced her--tied her shoulders, elbows, and wrists to a wooden club behind her back. It let them steer her more easily, they said. "We are careful with exotics like you, careful about damage ... until we get you on the block, you understand?"

She didn’t. She was just beginning to realize that her old life was over, that she was no longer a person, just property, just someone's beautiful pet.

She didn't know that a Caliph in North Africa had ordered the attack.

Isabella gazed numbly at the chaos of the pirates’ attack. Blood and bodies littered the quarterdeck, small fires burned everywhere. Occasionally a scream cut through the wispy black smoke.

They had stripped her to the waist and tied her arms over the ship’s rail. Another girl, similarly bound and shattered, was crying softly at her side. Two Moors stood guard, preventing others from getting too close. They were exotics, the captain said, too valuable to waste on rabble.

They were early victims in a new round of the Pirate War.

Giulia pulled on the manacles at her wrists. She had been on her toes for hours -- praying, pleading...cursing. Nothing helped. There was no relief from the doge’s hideous tortures, no escape from his dungeon. She was a prisoner of the worst tyrant Venice had ever known. His cruelty was legend even in these most merciless of times. She had no future other than pain.

But she wasn’t alone, thousands were suffering.

Europe’s last line of defense, the Venetian navy, had been defeated at the Battle of Doriak. The gates to the continent were open.