Missing her flight, Becky had to reschedule, giving us easily a week to further destroy her. In that time, immediately, her photos were released on the internet, posters were put up in the hallways, and saw to it that she was an embarrassment of the college– forcing the board of the college to discharge her swimming scores out of embarrassment for her lewd behaviors. All her trophies and successes disappeared over night. In the morning, Becky was so traumatized, she went to her swimming coach, a big fat old man but kind and nice, little did she know he was just nice to her because he wanted to fuck her and now with, well, everything, he had all the reason to. Pleading for help, Becky listened to the ultimatum he offered. He would take down the poster boards with her sexual pictures on it that circulated the school before other teachers saw if she sucked him off. It was second nature as she sobbingly got onto the ground, desperately trying to dig her out of this hole she’d dug. Perhaps a neighbor had seen her stash the key and had come to look for his own amusement. She knelt, nearly naked in the center of her hall, feeling the big man enter behind her.Then her heart smiled inside of her as her nostrils detected Drakkar and . . . was it jasmine?“Good evening slave,” He said. Her racing heart jumped into her mouth. It was His voice! Shorn of the usual hiss and static of a telephone line it was smoother than she’d dreamed. It wasn’t quite as deep. He seemed younger, more vital, in real life.The slave heard a heavy bag drop on the floor. There was a jingling of chains. Two firm hands (O enormous hands!) grasped her shoulders. Hot breath on her neck. His fingers stroked down her body—she felt the heat building inside of her at his touch, the touch she’d so desperately wanted for so long. She moaned slightly.“You may stand.” He said. Phrased as permission, it was His first real-time order to His slave. Carefully, slightly dizzily, she stood up. The blindfold.
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