Slave school

Your school is fully operational. The morning bell has rung, and the halls are filled with the soft click of heels and the rustle of pleated skirts. Through the window of your office, you can see them—rows of young slave girls walking in disciplined lines, their blouses deliberately unbuttoned to the third or fourth button, most wearing only a scrap of lace beneath. A few have the faint glint of metal at their hips—plugs worn as ordered by their owners.

The teachers have already submitted their "pet requests" for the semester. Miss Harrington wants two for her history class—one under her desk, one on her lap. Mr. Vance requested a redhead to display during anatomy demonstrations. Your personal files are open.