She is apprehensive

“Mr. P!” Alison's voice rises almost to a squeak. “You want me to be your sex-****?” Without waiting for my answer she returns the books to the bag and pushes it away. “I don't think I could do that.”

“Do what, Angel?” After what she told me last night, I hoped to see a little more excitement from my young tenant; this looks more like apprehension bordering on outright fear.

“You could do anything to me...” Her hushed voice is low and throaty.

“That's right.” I love the way she is squirming in her seat. Her eyes are fixed on the hands clenched together on the table just in front of her desert plate. “This weekend,” I tell her firmly, “I want nothing less than complete ownership of your sweet young body.”

“Owning another human being is a sin.” Alison looks up, meeting my calm gaze for just a fraction of a second before returning to focus on her trembling hands. Her cheeks blush fiercely, and I see the bodice of the tight black dress stretch as her breasts seem to swell dangerously.

“Is it?” I ask conversationally, “It certainly widely accepted in the Old Testament. In fact, the enslavement of pretty young women like you used to be quite common all over the world. It decreased in some parts of the Western world by the 17th century,” once a teacher, always a teacher I guess as I ramble on, “but I'm sure you learned about the Ottoman Empire and the Far East that had a very different view on the matter until only a little more than a hundred years ago.”

“Yes, I know, Sir.” Alison's voice trembles as she replies, “Dr. Lark explains that it still happens today, Mr. P. Young girls like me are snatched from the streets and **** into sex-work, but that doesn't make it right.”

“That may be true in our reality,” I concede, “but imagine a world in which slavery is not only legal, but commonplace, and where public auction houses are always in need of more pretty young female bodies to sell.” Her head lifts again and her doe-eyes widen as she shakes her head slowly. In spite of her reservations, I see a tremor travel down her arms and dimples appear in her dress where her nipples are now lifting the tight fabric. “A world where when wars are fought, the most beautiful young women of defeated countries are routinely taken as tribute by the victors; or where a patriarch who falls into debt can sell off attractive young women in his family to creditors to avoid prison himself.” Alison's soft moan tells me all I need to know. “Worst of all in this alternative reality, are the girl-hunters who prowl both city streets and country villages in search of beautiful young females to abduct to feed the insatiable demand of the **** markets.”

“Oh my God, Mr. P, please.” Alison's legs are now rocking together in a slow steady rhythm and her breathing is becoming more ragged. “Please stop. Don't make me do this.” In spite of her protest, I have no doubt that this is exactly what my submissive young tenant both needs and wants. I continue without mercy pointing to the top book on the stack.

“In that Gor world, slavers have even found a way to come here to modern day Earth and extend their hunting grounds to our high schools, shopping malls and elite colleges teaming with ripe young prizes.” I chuckle cruelly, “a small college town like this would be a rich hunting ground indeed.” This last comment seems to break Alison's weakening resolve.

“Those hunters would be looking for the sexiest and most beautiful girls to take,” she whispers, “or maybe they'd want innocent young virgins to capture and sell?” I smile at her wolfishly, and reach across the table to take her hands in mine as I answer her.

“I suspect the men of that counter-planet would have a wide variety of tastes, so no one would be safe from their hunters.” Her hands tighten around my fingers with a strength that I wasn't expecting from someone as slight as her.

“But you wouldn't want a **** like that, Sir?” She studies my face nervously, “You're not the kind of man who would hunt for an unsuspecting victim here on Earth or **** a bankrupted rival to sign over his pretty young daughter for your pleasure?” In spite of her obvious angst, I get the impression that this conflicted coed is struggling to keep her composure and I hesitate as I try to put together the right words. “Mr. P?” Alison prompts me when I don't answer right away, “Would you take a **** to use like that?”