Clarissa meets her trainer

At the start of the fourth day a woman stopped in front of the cell. She was tall, with brown hair, brown eyes, wearing a yellow catsuit and boots with six inch stilettos. She held a crop in her hand, a large one, but even without it, Clarissa would have known that she was one of the trainers.

"On your knees, **** 67," the woman said in a demanding tone.

Clarissa looked the woman in the eyes, took a deep breath, then she got on her knees. By now she had no illusions. The zetans could keep her in the cell as long as they wanted. Weeks or even months. In order to win her race with time she needed to get to the point when she is regularly let out of here. So she opted to play the obedient one.

"From now on, you are forbidden to look people in the eye. From now on you are a thing. An object. If you see a woman, you look at her boots. If you see a man, you look at his cock."

The woman raised the crop in her hand. Clarissa looked up, then she realized her mistake, and adjusted her glance to the woman's boots.

"What did I say thirty seconds ago, worm?" the woman asked, and she started hitting Clarissa's slender breasts with the crop.

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

Finally the cropping stopped, and Clarissa was surprised to see a pair of fingers latched onto her collar.

"Get up, worm," the woman said. Clarissa chose to obey, and with her eyes kept on the woman's stilettos, she started heading towards what she suspected as the training area.