“I fell into your eyes the day that I met you…I fell into your eyes and I have never found my way out and I…I feel alive each time I see you smi...e or hear you laugh and I adore the way your hands feel on my body.” “Sweetheart…” “Those scars have been a part of you for a long time, and I know you hate them.” “You have no idea.” He sounded bitter and she didn’t blame him. “I hate the scars because I know you hate them but more than anything, I hate what they mean to you…I hate that you suffered. She whimpered as I moved the baton menacingly close to her breasts, her large, frightened eyes glancing alternately at the tip of the prod and my stern glare.?Come forward. Stand properly!? I commanded her. She hesitated. I turned the voltage knob on the baton. She whimpered and retraced her steps until she stood straight once more.?What’ll it be, Michelle? Yes now, or yes later?? I asked her.?Please, Master. I can’t. Please!? she pleaded.?Yes now, or yes later?? I repeated, tracing the outline. It lasted about a month before Harry got mad at the bar because guys kept talking to me and asking me to dance. I always refused as Harry would always eyeball me. After about the fifth guy asked me to dance.Harry eyeballed me as he said, ”If you didn't dress like a fucking whore that won't happen.”Now I might be a slut but I ain't no fucking whore. When I drink I sometimes get brave as I think I am bulletproof. I told him I ain't no fucking whore and would fucking dress as I fucking like. I. ” Laura worked at her desk the remainder of the day with her jacket on a hanger, two buttons open on her blouse, and her nipples out and proud. The other secretaries noticed and smiled or smirked. One young clerk got whiplash when his head snapped as he walked past. Laura chuckled to herself at his reaction. She returned to Greg several times for refresher stimulation. Old Jacobs came by to talk to Greg toward the end of the day. Laura could tell he noticed but didn’t say anything, at least not.