She makes a request

“That was so much better than my fingers.” Alison is laying under me, her hands still tied above her head, as my fingers softly stroke the expanse of soft flesh before me.

“Do you think a newly captured Earth girl like me would make a hot ****? Or would you rather have some other captive to ravish. A proud, freewomen of Gor who owns her own slaves or maybe one of Sparrowhawk's sheltered Imperial debutants taken from the star-liner with their elitist attitudes and pure untouched bodies?”

“I'd be pretty satisfied with a raw Earthgirl as hot as you.” You brush away a strand of damp hair that has fallen across her face before adding a warning with a teasing grin. “Of course, ravaging one of those Imperial maidens as we travel through space sounds pretty good too; I'd have to break her in, so she's nicely trained for when she and the others are eventually auctioned off.”

“Oh my...” one of the things I've always liked about Alison is how easy it is to read her expressive face. “Those pampered noblewomen are so sheltered; your prize would know nothing about pleasing a man.” Alison licks her lips as her imagination starts to work overtime. “You'd have to teach her everything. Taking her innocent body again and again, Mr. P, wouldn't you?” Her breasts lift to push up into my palm, “You could make her do all sorts of nasty things, and if she didn't learn fast enough, you'd have to punish her.”

“I doubt that would be necessary-” I do my best to guide the conversation back to safer ground, but Alison is already leaping ahead on me. “You'd have keep her tied up and show her who's in charge. Smack her delicate flesh until she begs you for mercy, otherwise she'd be just another haughty Imperium bitch - who would pay top dollar for that?” I'm not really sure what to say, and there is a brief pause in the conversation as I untie her hands. Once she's free I try to take a neutral stance.

“Well, maybe we can try that this weekend. Unless you want tonight to count for my weekly visit?” For a second, I can see the confusion of her face before she remembers our arrangement, but she smiles sweetly before sitting up and kissing me sweetly on the cheek.

“No, Mr. P,” She shakes her head shyly, “that wouldn't be fair. After all,” she seems to be searching for any justification, “I haven't finished reading all three books.” We lie in silence for almost a minute, and I can tell she's still thinking. “You do have chains though, right Mr. P? I mean you've got everything down in that workshop of yours.” When I nod silently, she bites at her lip and bats her eyes sweetly. “You could lock me in manacles and put a collar around my neck, Mr. P.” With the initial request out of the way, Alison's words come spilling out like milk from an overturned bottle. “Chain my arms behind my back so I'm completely helpless, and then take me and make me yours.” It is impossible to miss the excitement in her eyes or the way her pelvis is slowly rubbing against my leg.

“Where would a sweet sheltered young woman like you get an idea like this?” I ask, and, trying to stall for time, I start slowly untying her wrists.

“I'm not that sheltered Mr. P,” Alison's exasperated sigh remind me of some of my old students and I have to hide a smile as she explains, “In one of the MAGA rallies my youth group went to I was given a pamphlet describing how MS-13 invaded a small town in Texas and took a dozen American girls from their high school.” I've seen more than enough of this type of porn to be able picture the scene easily.

I shake my head in amazement that something like that could be accepted as fact by anyone, but Alison doesn't seem to notice as she describes what she saw. “The cover of the pamphlet had an illustration of two blonde sisters being led away by a trio of tattooed Latino gang members. The girl's hands were handcuffed behind their backs, Mr. P, and one of them had her blouse was torn open so you could see her bra.”

“You know that never happened, right?” Alison just shrugs her shoulders and rubs her wrists where the rope had chafed her delicate skin.

“That's not the point, Mr. P.” Alison sighs softly, refusing to get caught up in one of our arguments about fact versus fiction. “That night I read and reread the three-page brochure; I started to imagine all the atrocities that those gang members would have done to those poor sisters.”

“Did you finger yourself?” I ask knowing the answer before I even asked. Her eyes flicker but I hear her soft 'yes'. “Did you cum?”

“No, Mr. P. I told you, until last week with you I haven't been able to have an orgasm, no matter how depraved and wicked I was.” She takes a deep breath and then goes on in a rush. “But I wanted to so badly. I lay on my bed picturing those poor handcuffed girls passed around like cheap whores from one man to another.” Her breathing is even more rapid than before as she remembers the frustrating night. “I was so wicked, so sinful. I knew I should be horrified at what those gang members would do to those innocent schoolgirls, but all I could think of was how much I wanted to feel their rough hands on my helpless virgin body.”

The irony of the situation is not lost on me. I doubt very much that this was the response that the PR people who put together the fear-mongering pamphlet were anticipating.

“Please, Mr. P,” Alison's fingers tighten once again on my arm. “I want you to chain and collar me. I want to be groped and fingered and then, when I can't stand it anymore, I want you to fuck me and break me in.”

More than ever, I wish I had taken one of those miracle pills before coming upstairs to check on my tenant. I still could. I could leave Alison tied helplessly to her bed and go take a couple. Then, while I waited for the pills to start working, I could finger her back up into a **** lather. On the other hand, if I wait until this weekend, I could do it right and capture and collar her myself.

Perhaps sensing my uncertainty, Alison licks her lips nervously. “Is that OK, Mr. P? I don't want you to think I'm some kind of weirdo ... please?”