“I’m glad you had a good time.”Oh, I had. But I was going to pay for it.“Thanks,” I said. “Let’s take our tea in the other room.”“To...day is the last race of the season, isn’t it?” Kara asked.“Yeah,” I sighed. “In Atlanta. Stephie got married there about a year ago.”“It’s kind of hard to believe,” Elyse said.“No, it’s too fucking easy to believe,” I said. “She got married and died before she had her first wedding anniversary! I miss her.”“You’ve been doing OK,” Kara said. “What happened?”“I think. I walked away, visibly turned on when I heard:“Chad?”“Yeah, Jazz?” I said, trying to regain composure.“Were you looking at me during class?”I looked at her.“Like?” I said, with my hand out.“Like you wanted these again,” She said, using her hands as visual aids for her breasts. “You won’t be the last, Chad…”“Yes. I was,” I said being truthful.“Ha. At least you’re honest. Come with me.”I got my bag and followed her outside the room, where all of a sudden she plants a passionate kiss on me. I kiss. Time was spent conditioning her so as to react with arousal to thoughts and experiences of slavery. I had to break everything that once was the woman and rebuild a painslut in it's place. Tracy needs to be different.Fuckslit, the slave Tracy is being trained to replace, had been my personal slave. The one I used most regularly for sexual gratification and as a vent for frustrations. My personal slave needs to be special in a number of ways. They have to be broken, but not destroyed. Resigned. And for her part, Jessica knew now never to let herself be suckered into anything again, no matter what the odds. There could never be another Marty Felder in her life, for Jessica Richards the kid grew up that night. And no man would ever pull the wool over her eyes again. Not that she had to worry with Phillip--he wasn't the sort. Wild perhaps, like all artists are, in some way or another, but sweet and warm and gentle. Not like so many men she'd met since embarking on this career. Not like.