He’d drugged her. Natasha does not act like that. She doesn’t like ME that much, let alone a stranger. We approached directly and without hesitati...n.“Natasha, my sister, how you are doing in this day? You are OK, no??”She looked at me, dazed. “Chuck? You are here?”“Yes, my precious sister. Mama has died, I must take you home. Sir, I am sorry, I must take her home to see papa. Mama has died.” The guy was dumbfounded. We caught him off guard. Walking Natasha out was Eddie and Shirley’s job. Julie. He complimented and asked about my experiences and some suggestions. These multiple conversations made him feel comfortable. He started to share his details and the actual reason for contacting me.His age is 35, working for a software company. His wife Neetu (name changed), aged 33, is a teacher. His wife is very committed to him, and they have sex regularly. They are leading a happy family life. They have not planned kids so far. He initially started that the couple is planning to swap. Her stare now much deeper than before, she has involuntarily started to rotate her hips, her true nature starting to overcome her meager willpower. Her breathing is faster and lower, and the flush across her chest has spread. Her tongue licks her lip slightly in anticipation.His voice is low, but audible. Some sort of distortion filter has been applied to the recording to make it unidentifiable."Tell me what you are, slave."Her face twitches a bit as she struggles to contain the orgasm she just. But still... "Torch!"George turned his head away from the 2 x 4 he was supposed to be cutting."What's the matter, Torch?" his short, squat little shit of a supervisor demanded as he waddled toward him. "What the fuck are you doing just standing there?!" Sorry, boss," George said tightly. He hated this man passionately. He was a miserable little shit, with his white shirt and cheap tie and ornamental hard-hat—he was one of those middle-class failures who somehow found jobs bossing grunts like.