I got the idea for the ball device (and its use) from "Intimate 
Physical Training" by Anon1940.  My thanks to him for allowing 
me to borrow it.

			




                           ELSIE  

                             by

                         C. Lakewood    



Part 2 

    My name is Dr. Elizabeth Granger, and I am an associate 
professor of psychopharmacology at a large midwestern university.  
I'm in my early 30s, and, for most of my post-pubescent life, 
I've been a secret pervert.  I might as well admit it, for now 
I've been discovered....  

		******************************

    I had just forced myself to stop day-dreaming and return from 
one of my typically lurid fantasies.  In the real world, I was 
standing naked in the little ante-room of the university's secure 
lab facility.  I had just stacked all my clothes in a locker and 
was about to put on the regulation paper robe....  
     
    And then the outer door opened...to reveal my grad assistant, 
Tanya Taylor.

		******************************

    We were both surprised by the situation, but she recovered much 
sooner than I did.  I was standing there, naked and stunned, when 
she whipped out her cell phone.  And I was still gawking at her 
when she snapped several pictures....  Oh, shit!  A camera-phone!  

    I had managed only to stammer a few meaningless syllables when 
she put away the device and pushed me into a corner.  She then 
proceeded to stow her shoes in the locker I was using, close 
it, and pocket the key.  

    "Give me that key, Tanya," I croaked.  

    "Be quiet!  You are in no position to give orders," she sneered. 

    She slid her feet into a pair of paper slippers and then put on 
a paper gown over her street clothes and attached her ID badge.  
(In the process, she deftly took charge of my own badge.) 

    "Now, listen...," I said, tentatively.  

    "No, YOU had better listen -- and do what you're told -- unless 
you want those pictures e-mailed all over campus."

    "You wouldn't...."

    "No?  Just try me."

    "Please, Tanya...."

    "Call me 'Miss Tanya.'  And put on your paper uniform."

    ("Oh, god!"  The thoughts tumbled through my mind.  "Being 
ordered about by my own grad assistant -- a black girl to boot.  
But I don't see I have a choice...for now.  Until I can figure 
a way out of this mess, I have to temporize....")

    So I obeyed.

		******************************
  
    She herded me along then, down some corridors I was unfamiliar 
with, and finally into a men's room.  She quickly checked to see 
that there was no one else there, and, after a moment's thought, 
she pushed me over to a louvred door and used my laminated badge 
to slip the simple spring lock and open up what turned out to be 
a small supply closet.

    "Strip," she said.

    "I-I couldn't....  Not here!"

    She frowned.  "Look, I don't want to go through an involved 
scene with you every time I give you an order.  Enough is enough.  
From now on, you'll obey me, or something worse will happen to 
you.  For example, if you'll take off your paper clothes and hand 
them to me nicely, you'll get them back in due course.  If you 
don't, I'll rip 'em off you and tear 'em to shreds...and you can 
figure out how you're going to get home butt-naked.  Now, are 
you gonna strip, bitch?"

    I stripped.

		******************************

    She locked me in that closet, naked, and left, saying only, 
with a laugh, "Ah'll be ba-ack."

    She was gone what seemed like ages.  Of course, there wasn't 
much in the closet of interest -- some toilet paper, a few light 
bulbs, and several bottles of liquid soap.  From time to time, 
one or more men came into the restroom to pee, and that was 
interesting.  I had an excellent view through the louvres and was 
fascinated by the variations in size, curvature, and coloration 
-- and whether they were circumcised or not.  

    But mostly I just stood around in that stuffy little closet, 
cursing "Miss Tanya" and worrying about the possibility of being 
discovered.  (Well, actually it was was a mixture of worrying and 
fantasizing....)  By the time my so-called "assistant" returned, 
I was on the ragged edge.

    When the lock finally clicked and the door opened, however, I 
was caught off-guard.  "Miss Tanya" made a face, coughed, squinted 
at me, and took a step backward.  "Judging by the smell, you've 
been enjoying yourself in there," she sneered.  (Crap!  She knows!) 
I cringed, mortified.

    She tossed me my paper clothes.  "Get dressed," she said.  
"It's time to go home."  (Hers or mine? I wondered, vaguely, 
as I hastened to obey.)

    After retracing our steps through the now deserted and 
dimly-lit corridors, we stopped briefly in the ante-room, 
where I was allowed to replace my paper garments with a 
scandalously short baby-doll dress and a pair of cheap 
flip-flops.

		******************************

    It was dark out when we emerged from the building, for which I 
was very glad; I would have been totally humiliated to have been 
recognized dressed the way I was.  As it turned out, we reached 
my car in the faculty lot without incident.

    She got behind the wheel (of course) and ordered me into the 
back seat.  We drove just off-campus and parked in a fairly dark 
residential street.  "Give me the dress," she said, peremptorily.

    "I...I," I began, although I knew that arguing or even 
stalling would be useless and probably counter-productive.  

    "Do it now," she said.  "Or should I turn on the interior 
lights?"

    "No, M-miss Tanya," I quavered, pulling off the dress and 
handing it over.

    She then took a considerable detour to drive through brightly 
lighted downtown while I cowered on the car floor.  Then we swung 
back toward the university and were soon pulling into the alley 
behind my house -- a red brick, ivy-covered Victorian cottage.  
She parked in the detached garage and then made me scamper, naked, 
up to the kitchen door and wait while she let herself in the front 
and took her own sweet time about walking through the house and 
opening the back door for me.

    My relief at being inside my home at last was short-lived, 
however.  Tanya made me stand at attention, naked, while she 
told me the way things were going to be for a while.

    "Just stand there and listen," she said.  "Don't talk, don't 
argue, don't expostulate.  You'll find there've already been a 
few changes, and, believe me, there'll be more.  I've moved in 
here and will be living with you until I get my degree...at which 
time, if you've been a good girl, you can resume your old life -- 
if you can stand it.  I've done my research on you and know you're 
pretty much a clever crypto-racist in academic garb.  Nothing, 
really, that can be proved, but clear enough for me.  I've got 
an advantage now, and I don't intend to relinquish it until I'm 
beyond your reach.  It won't be so very long...not for me, anyway.  
A year and a half should do it.  Then I'll be a black female with 
a PhD in a swinging science, and I'll be beating job offers off 
with a stick.  But it'll seem longer to you, because I intend to 
get some payback along the way for those you've screwed in the 
past.  I'll take the bedroom, of course.  There's a old sofa in 
the basement that you can sack out on.  And you'd better turn in 
now.  There are no classes tomorrow, but it'll be a busy day."

    I nodded and, defeated, slunk down to the basement, where I 
curled up on the worn old couch, comforted myself, and drifted 
off to sleep, wondering what torments that black bitch had in 
store for me....

		******************************

    Smack!

    I abruptly came back to near-consciousness with a sharp, 
painful slap on my bare bottom.  "Wha-"

    Smack!

    The second slap brought me completely awake, and then I was 
mortified to realize, belatedly, that I still had my hand between 
my legs.

    "Get up, Lizzie, and get your lazy ass moving.  You've got 
chores."

    "Can...can I have some clothes?" I asked as we went up the 
stairs to the first floor.

    "When you go outside...to take out the trash and mow the 
grass.  Indoors, you'll stay naked until further notice.  And 
there's plenty to keep you occupied inside the house....  You're 
really not much of a housekeeper, are you?  But, if you value 
your ass, you'll learn."

    "I used to have a...cleaning lady...."

    "A nigger?"

    "Well...y-yes...."

    "And now I have my own servant.  Sweet.  Anyway, last night 
I poked around some, seeing what had to be done, and of course 
I checked out your computer.  I found that you've got quite a 
number of protected files.  What's the password?"

    "I...I forget," I murmured, lamely.  (God!  I hoped like hell 
she believed me, because I just couldn't let ANYBODY read those 
files -- especially this bitch.)

    "Shee-it!  You better not lie to me, girl.  What's in there?"  

    I thought fast.  "Nothing of any significance.  Whenever I did 
drug studies, the companies would send me a lot of proprietary 
information, and I'd stick it in there to keep it safe.  But it 
all must be out of date by now...."

    Miss Tanya scowled, but then shrugged and started giving 
me instructions on how exactly I was to clean house.  (I had 
fooled her!  Superior intellect had won out over native brawn!)

    After having to shave my crotch clean, I spent the morning 
slaving away at domestic chores -- naked, of course -- washing 
dishes, doing laundry, dusting and vacuuming, scrubbing floors 
and toilets...everything I hated doing and generally postponed 
(or just skipped entirely) if I had even the flimsiest of reasons.  
After my triumph regarding my protected files, however, I was 
glowing and didn't mind the work too much (even though that 
black bitch spent a lot of time "supervising," aka humiliating 
me with a stream of snide comments).

    At midday, Miss Tanya enjoyed a nice lunch while she watched 
me "edging" -- masturbating myself right to the edge of orgasm 
without ever actually going over.  I had to do it repeatedly, as 
she munched ham salad sandwiches and sipped green tea.  By the 
end, I was a sweaty, disheveled bundle of nerves, aching for a 
cum.
 
    Then we went shopping and spent the afternoon looking for 
clothes that were "more appropriate" for the new me: garter-belt 
and nylons (since I couldn't wear pantyhose any more), mini-skirts, 
ultra-short baby-doll dresses, tube-tops, crop-top t-shirts a size 
or two too small....  Of course, we patronized only garish shops 
with young, black salesgirls who laughed and sneered easily.  
They crowded into the changing room and made fun of my lack of 
underwear, my lack of pubic hair, my relatively small breasts, my 
grubbiness (even though they themselves stank of musk and cheap 
perfume), the tackiness and youthfulness of the clothes I was 
forced to buy....

    I even had to "edge" some more while those girls watched me 
and shrieked with laughter.   

    That evening, there was more edging, over and over, and, when 
Miss Tanya finally allowed me to turn in, I was practically 
exhausted.  But not quite.  I was, in fact, looking forward to 
being alone, so I could at last bring myself to a much-needed 
orgasm.  But she prevented that by tying me down, on my back, 
spread-eagle.

    She left me there in the musty darkness, trembling with my 
overwhelming need to cum, and fantasizing about what I was going 
to do to her when my chance came.

    Meanwhile, I suppose that things could have been worse. 

		****************************** 

    The next day was more chores and more edging...and several 
spankings (with a house slipper), when I was slow or clumsy or 
morose, and which left me blubbering and calling her "Momma" 
and promising to be a "good girl."

    On Monday, classes resumed.  I had twelve hours of classes 
a week, including a seminar and a lab, all of which Miss Tanya 
attended (either as student or assistant), so it was not 
difficult for her to keep a fairly tight rein on me.

    I really don't see how I got through the first few lectures, 
I was so jittery.  I was allowed to wear my regular clothes to 
class -- though the skirts were shortened to mid-thigh length.  
Mini-skirts and no panties...and having to "edge" repeatedly 
between classes....  

		******************************  

    Tuesday and Wednesday were marginally better.  I was gradually 
coming to terms with being naked under my skirt, with flashing my 
thighs everywhere, and with having to do all the household chores 
to perfection. 

    It was torment, however, having to keep my cunt stimulated 
while never being permitted to cum.  And it was almost as bad 
having to go places after school -- to the grocery store or even 
a porno shop -- dressed in my new, tacky, teeny-bopper clothes, 
with my hair in pig-tails.  Most men would leer at me, and most 
women sneer.

		******************************

    On Thursdays, I had only one lecture and a seminar, both late 
in the day, so we were home to take delivery of a small parcel (at 
which Miss Tanya seemed immeasurably pleased).

    She handed it to me and told me to unwrap my "present."  
I found it was a pair of balls, outwardly similar to ben-wa 
or vibro-balls.  These, however, were solid metal, highly 
polished and gold-plated, each about 1.25" in diameter and 
heavy (perhaps 4 ounces apiece).  A small hole was drilled 
through the center of each ball, and a short, strong nylon 
cord connected the two.

    "You're going to be using this to exercise your cunt," she 
said.  "First, edge some more until you're all nice and juicy, 
and then stick one ball just inside your cunt and let the other 
hang outside.  You won't be wearing panties, of course, so you've 
got to hold the one ball inside you simply by contracting your 
cunt-muscles around it.  You will feel it even when you're sitting 
down -- but you won't be doing much of that.  Moreover, when you're 
standing, the weight of the dangling ball will keep the inside ball 
snugged up against your G-spot and the area just behind your clit.  
Your cunt'll be constantly stimulated...while your mind is 
preoccupied with the worry that you're going to drop your balls 
at any moment."  She giggled.  "And it's worse when you're moving 
around."

    After I had the upper ball in place, she told me to stand up 
and walk around some.  I clenched my cunt-muscles and got up.  I 
could definitely feel the pull of the hanging ball, but it wasn't 
too bad.  As soon as I took a step, however, my thigh bumped 
against the hanging ball, which tugged sharply on the inside ball 
and sent a tremor of fear through me that I'd lose it....

    But I found that, as long as I concentrated, I could keep a 
grip on the the ball...and, in fact, clutching that ball with my 
cunt turned out to be...well, exciting.  (I did wonder, though, if 
I could possibly keep it inside me as long as Tanya wished...hours, 
maybe....  Maybe all day!) 

    Then we drove to campus and met my class.  Throughout my 
lecture, I was acutely aware of those damn balls.  Standing 
behind the lectern, I kept clutching my cunt around at the ball 
inside me, and the result was not unpleasant...physically.  But 
it caused me to lubricate, heavily, and that in turn made my 
grip increasingly tenuous -- and my mind increasingly distracted.  
I finally had to bring my presentation to an abrupt conclusion 
and dismiss class early.  By the time Miss Tanya and I got back 
to my office, I was almost at the end of my tether.

    Nevertheless, she made me strip naked and do a series of 
squats, until my poor, overworked cunt was screaming and I was 
begging her to let me rest.

    "Rest?" she said.  "You really want to rest?  Wouldn't you 
rather cum?"

    "Oh, god!  Yes, Miss Tanya.  Please let me cum."

    She grinned impishly.  "Okay.  Lick your balls clean, and then 
I'll let you."

    I obeyed her eagerly.  She'd let me cum!  It had been so long!
I pulled out the device and licked it until it was clean and 
gleaming.  At a nod from Miss Tanya, I put it aside and reached 
for my cunt.

    And she slapped me.  

    "Silly bitch!" she snapped.  "Not just yet...and not that way." 

    She pulled off her sweater and slithered out of her skirt and 
panties.  She was as bare as I was, but rather sexier...in a lush, 
"Third World" sort of way.  She sat her naked ass down in my nice 
leather desk chair, stretched, and said, "Okay, bitch, you want to 
cum, you can hump my leg."

    I gaped at her.  Surely she couldn't be serious.  I did need to 
cum -- badly -- but I just couldn't do it that way.  Then my cunt 
lurched, and I wasted no time in straddling her.

    "And look at me while you do it.  Admire my big breasts...and 
thick nipples...and juicy cunt....  And remember that I can cum 
any time I want, but YOU can cum only when I give you permission.  
So go ahead; get at it."

    As humiliating as it was, my need to cum was stronger, and 
I began to slide my drooling cunt up and down Miss Tanya's leg, 
like a bitch in heat (which I guess I was).  She reached out and 
began playing with my tits -- which were so immature, compared 
to her lush breasts.  She twisted my nipples, encouraging me to 
work harder....  And I was grateful.

    My gaze shifted downward, over her belly to her cunt.  (She 
had impressed it upon me that she had a cute little "pussy," 
while a bad girl like me had a nasty "cunt" -- but, just at that 
moment, I didn't care.  She had a "cunt," too...a dripping, 
black-and-purple lipped, fuchsia-lined, beautiful cunt that 
mesmerized me as I humped my greedy crotch along her leg.  I 
leaned forward slightly and breathed in the spicy aroma of her 
twitching cunt.)  

    It was all wonderful, but it didn't take long.  Suddenly I 
was wracked by the most massive orgasm I'd ever had.  It left 
me weak. practically unconscious, but I did have sense enough 
to thank Miss Tanya and, unbidden, to lick my slime from her leg.  

    "You seem to have enjoyed your cum, which is good -- because 
it's going to be a long, long time before you get to have another 
one."

    I shuddered.  "Yes, Miss Tanya," I whispered.  I was vaguely 
aware that Miss Tanya was stripping me of my self-esteem as easily 
as she had stripped me of my clothes.  But this nightmare wouldn't 
last forever, and she would eventually learn that payback's a 
bitch, too...and that I had put a great deal more thought into 
these matters than she had.  And I had an IQ of 148.

    She looked at her watch.  "Almost time to head off to the 
seminar.  Get dressed...and don't forget your balls."

		******************************

Part 3

    When we left the office that Thursday evening, the air in 
the corridor seemed unusually fresh and pleasant.  A moment 
later, I realized that, after our session, my office must smell 
like a whore house...or, more to the point, a dormitory at a 
girls' school.  I hoped the ventilation system would dissipate 
the stench -- or what would the cleaning crew think....

		****************************** 

    The seminar that night really wasn't too bad.  By the nature 
of the class, the students did most of the talking, and I was 
sitting down during the entire period.  But, even in that position, 
I was still very much aware of the heavy ball inside me, and my 
cunt muscles would sporadically squeeze it.  That, as before, 
caused me to lubricate heavily, and that, in turn, induced me to 
remain seated until the last student had left, because getting to 
my feet was, under the circumstances, a very tricky manoeuvre.

    My skirt was too short to sit on, so I had sat with my bare ass 
on the chair.  As a result, I left a large wet spot on the seat.  
And, for a moment, I was afraid Miss Tanya was going to make me 
lick it up.

		******************************  

    Back home at last, I had to fix a light supper for us (cold 
chicken, brie, a nice Riesling, and sliced pears).  I couldn't 
fully appreciate it, though, since I was distracted by having to 
"edge" throughout the meal.  
    
    Afterward, while I washed up, Miss Tanya brewed some tea 
-- a special blend, she said.  And, over tea and biscotti, we 
chatted a while (mainly about her plans and ambitions).  

    It was rather a pleasant evening, all in all.    

    But I had barely finished my tea when I began to feel very 
lethargic -- too much labor, too much edging, too much stress, 
and not enough recuperative sleep were catching up with me.  
Then Miss Tanya jolted me awake by asking me a technical question.

    "What do you know about Doepazine?  What does the book say?"

    "Um...."  I visualized the write-up.  "'Doepazine is a 
taradiddle drug, similar to Halozine, but more powerful.  Both 
are used primarily to render patients docile.  Side effects 
include: heightened...suggestibility, shlurred speech, 
a...certain...um...difficulty con-centrating, and often a 
shlight temporary menemory loss...memory loss.  (Ahem)  In 
addition, there is generally...some...um...reduction in 
bla-ladder control.  The libido, on the other hand, tends 
to be increased...significantly.  The mind tends to remain 
relatively clear, however, and....'"  

    I was vaguely aware of being stretched out on the old couch, 
but then things tended to become fragmented...to go in and out 
of focus.  I heard her voice, as if from a distance.  I couldn't 
quite grasp what she was saying, but her tone was soothing.  Miss 
Tanya could be so sweet sometimes....  

    And then....

    I was apparently having a gynecological exam, my feet in the 
usual stirrups -- except my ankles and wrists were secured so I 
couldn't move.  I was naked and aroused.  Both the doctor and his 
nurse were black.  He was an ape; she was an amazon.

    "So, Elizabeth -- or is it 'Elsie'? -- you understand that 
the program you have volunteered for requires you to undergo a 
certain...reconditioning."

    ("'Volunteered,'" I thought.  "Sure.") 

    "But I'm okay," I responded aloud.  "Normal."

    The doctor cleared his throat.  "No, Elsie, all is most 
definitely NOT okay...NOT normal."  He frowned.  "It is 
certainly not normal for a woman to be masturbating as often 
as you do." 

    I was speechless.  But I knew it was true.  I was...a-a 
dirty pervert.

    "You are a chronic masturbatrix.  As an adult, you have averaged 
-- AVERAGED! -- just over three times a day.  But lately you have 
doubled, tripled, QUADRUPLED that.  Yours is an extremely serious 
case and will require severe treatment. 

    "You often become become sexually aroused, and, when you do, 
you are in the habit of masturbating to orgasm."  He nodded to 
the nurse, who slapped my right buttock and swabbed it with 
alcohol.  She held up a syringe.  "Among other things, this 
will prevent that," the doctor continued. 

    "My arousal?" I asked. 

    "Oh, no," he said, benignly.  "This -- or rather one component 
of it -- will, in fact, block your ability to orgasm." 

    The nurse stuck me, none too gently. 

    "Simply put, regardless of the stimulus, nothing will make you 
cum," the doctor added.

    "I-I'll lose my libido?" I gasped.

    He shook his head and went on in that bland, matter-of-fact, 
doctor-knows-best voice, his tone so much at variance with the 
meaning of his words.  "No, quite the contrary.  Indeed, another 
component of the drug cocktail we have just given you...."  (Did 
he say, "we jes' done gabe yuh"?)  "Will actually ratchet up your 
sex drive to a level surpassing that of the most hormone-addled 
adolescent.  The two components together form a most interesting 
combination...most interesting, as someone in your field should 
appreciate.  The injection was an extra-large initial dose, to 
sort of 'jump-start' the process.  Hereafter, you'll receive your 
meds in suppository form."

    "S-s-suppository?"

    "Yes.  It's quite effective.  Soon -- very soon -- you will be 
desperate for an orgasm...and quite incapable of having one.  I'm 
afraid that the accompanying frustration is an important part of 
the treatment. 

    "Moreover, one never builds up a tolerance for these meds.  
If anything, they tend to have a greater and greater effect as 
time goes by."   

    "How...how long will the...'treatment'...last?"

    "Impossible to say, really.  Weeks...months....  Perhaps a 
very long time."

    Despite my predicament, I felt myself -- oh, god! -- beginning 
to get wet.  I also had a certain feeling of déjà vu, but the 
clamoring in my cunt made it hard to concentrate, and the notion 
slipped away.  

    Trembling and sweating, I wanted desperately to touch myself.  
I looked up and murmured, "Please?  M-may...may I...?" 

    "Tsk, tsk.  It won't help." 

    "Oh, god!  Pleeeeeez?" 

    He sighed.  "If you insist on being delusional, Nurse Fox will 
demonstrate how futile that is."  He nodded to the grinning black 
bitch.

    She smiled thinly as she reached down and caressed my poor, 
needy cunt with a feather touch that turned me on more, but 
which I knew would never get me off.  

    "M-more, please....  Please."

    "Very well."

    She slid her fingers inside me, teasing my swollen clit with 
her thumb, driving me higher and higher.    

    "Aaaaaaah," I gasped. 

    My orgasm was building.  Crawling outward from my crotch, the 
sensation was becoming intolerable.  I was going to erupt any 
instant, because it just couldn't get any more intense without 
erupting like Vesuvius....

    But it DID grow more powerful as she continued to play with 
me, changing tempo, moving skilfully about.  It grew and grew 
and....

    Then it plateaued.

    It stopped growing, but it didn't diminish, either.  And, most 
important, I didn't cum.  I writhed and squirmed and ground my 
crotch against her hand.

    I tried to will myself to orgasm, but that failed, too. 

    The nurse stared down at me, her expression a mixture of 
triumph and pity.  "You're right on the edge now, Elsie, and 
that's where you'll stay...for the next 12 hours or so.  After 
that, you'll come down -- a little -- but not enough....

    "Not enough...not enough...."

    And everything went dark.    

		******************************

    It was dark, but not completely dark.  Some moonlight slanted 
in through a small, high window.  I blinked, and my initial 
disorientation passed.  I was in my basement, on the lumpy couch.  
That nightmare exam had been...just a nightmare.  There was 
something familiar about it, though....

    But, more important, was my poor cunt.  I caressed it 
and shivered.  It was wet, so wet...and needy.  I doubted 
that even The Black Bitch would have infra-red cameras 
spying on me during the night, so this was a chance to get 
myself off, over and over.  I tickled my clit.  Delicious!  
If only I weren't so damn tired....

		******************************
    
    When I woke up again, it was light, and I could hear Miss Tanya 
moving around upstairs.  God!  I didn't dare play with myself now!  
How could I have let that opportunity slip away?

    Moments later, she came clattering downstairs.  "Wakey, wakey!  
You've got some chores and some edging to do, and I want you to 
get a move on, because we're off to the mall this morning before 
class.  You're going shopping for shoes."

    "M-may I wear panties, please?  Or a longer skirt?"

    "Of course not!  And I'll spank you later for having the gall 
to ask.  The uniform of the day is tube-top, mini-skirt, and NO 
panties.  Gotta give all those minimum wage shoe salesmen some 
stuff to ogle, right?"

    Oh, god!  I knew exactly how that would play out, since I had 
read any number of stories featuring that sort of thing....

    Read...stories...?

    "And maybe we can also stop off and get you a piercing, too," 
she chuckled.

    Wait a minute!  There was a tiny alarm bell ringing deep in my 
subconscious, trying to alert me to something....  Stories....  
Crap!  The nightmare exam, the shoe store, forced piercings (and 
tattoos!), age-inappropriate clothing, power reversal, orgasm 
denial, racial payback, spankings, the whole D/s thing....

    "My secret files!" I gasped.

    She laughed.  "Took you long enough to catch on."

    "But those files are protected!"

    "Protected!  Piffle!  I broke that password with ease the very 
first night.  'Rosebud,' indeed.  Pretty lame -- and that movie's 
over-rated, too.  But there was a lot of good stuff in those files 
-- stories AND pictures, but especially the stories.  I loved 
seeing the sort of porn you collected...but, even more so, the 
sort of porn you WROTE.  Fascinating...particularly all those 
girls in their teens and early 20s, dominating and humiliating 
arrogant professional women in their 30s and 40s....  I must say 
that you have quite a way with words, when the subject is in line 
with your baser instincts.  And you've provided me with many 
choice ideas that we'll be exploring -- in depth -- before I 
leave you."

    My cunt started to twitch.  In any other period of my life, I'd 
think that was a sign of an impending orgasm...but not at present.  
Maybe, I thought, maybe if I was a very good girl, Miss Tanya would 
let me cum again some day soon.

    And then I had another happy thought.  By the time she got her 
degree -- a year and a half? -- I'd have lived through enough for 
a lot of new stories....  

    Perhaps even a book.


