Mrs. Wilson was the teacher all of guys always talked about, we all wanted to fuck her, she was hot. I stopped by the school and went to her classroom.... She was there but gave me the brush off. I mean she was nice and we talked for a while and all but I got no indication that she was going to bang me. I drove home feeling a little bummed and decided that I should stick to girls my own age. Next day I was driving and I passed by Mrs. Conner's house. She was my history teacher. She was in her. While pulling a smart shirt on, something hit me. I would be in a bar, or a restaurant, with a beautiful young woman, wearing heels, and short dress, and an anklet with a key on that anyone could see. While she wasn’t going to tell anyone, people would know. They would know.“Shall I order a cab, Miss Aurelia?”, I asked. “Of course, we will go to Margini’s, that new bar. You might want to reserve us a table”. Nervously I asked, “If they ask who you are…”, at which point Miss Aurelia stepped in,. I'll retain topical comments such as references to Janet Jackson's closet malfunction. It was old news by the time this was written, but it accurately reflects my thinking at the time.]]We were discussing another idea fifteen minutes later when Robert knocked on our door to tell us one of the university's computer technicians was installing the new system. We hadn't heard them arrive because of the soundproofing. I had to go see that!It was exciting for about thirty seconds, and then it got. “Gojibwe is not known for his mercy, little cunt. It will be interesting to see if your mother survives the attentions of Gojibwe and his men. I would not bet on it.”Shinatri couldn’t believe this was happening. She was in shock, unable to speak, think, or even move. She blinked her way through a fresh cascade of tears. Okotwe snapped his fingers, gesturing at the other three slaves awaiting his orders.“Bring that young bitch over here to the bed. My cock is ready for another round.” Okotwe.