Indian Lovers Try To Learn

"Good morning, darlin'," he said, and "darlin'," complete with the dropped"g," still sounded funny with a Tanzaninan accent."Hey, big boy," I chuckled, "what are you making me for breakfast?"Without any awkwardness or hesitation, he wrapped his arms around me andwe kissed again, his hands lingering on my pantied bottom, and I felt hiserection making itself known again. I don't know where he had learned tocook, but it was a Southern feast: bacon, fried eggs, buttered biscuitsand honey, strong black coffee and orange juice, and I discovered that Iwas ravenous. "I really enjoyed last night," he said, "I wish I had known earlier. Iwould have made you my girlfriend a long time ago."His girlfriend? Is that what I was? I mean...I was sitting in hisapartment wearing nothing but a pair of lacy little nylon panties afterhaving spent the previous night with his cock in my mouth and the rest ofthe night cuddled next to him, but...his girlfriend? I guess I sorta was, come to think of. Newly enslaved, former boys, however, took a different ride on the same trains. In a storage car near the middle of the train, four fresh slaves waited at attention in a row. Each slave held a blank expression as if having been turned "off" for the time being. Their names and identities had been brainwashed out of them at the end of the semester. All four would only react to the "slave" name attached to their collars. The will-less slaves existed for only one purpose: to obey their male superiors.As the train stopped in various cities, each of the new slaves, one in each city, blinked back to life and swiftly swayed out of the storage car. After the first three stops, all that was left was the slave formerly known as Chrissie. The chrissie-slave blankly waited for another hour until the city it was destined for was arrived at by the train. A tingle went up the slave as it began moving, automatically just knowing where it was supposed to be. It swayed down a few cars, sighing happily.
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