A smile flitted across his face as she slid the skirt up over her knees. His eyes swivelled to her skirt, attaching themselves like lasers to the gap between her knees. She stretched for another biscuit passing him the box, leaning forward to do so he could glimpse her cleavage, eyes bulged but she ignored them as she sat up and opened her knees, it was all done casually and he didn’t suspect she knew of his gaze in any way, he must have caught a quick glance of the thin pink panties, as his face turned a shade pinker and his breath came in gasps masked by the coffee cup which again she ignored though she could feel her own panties becoming wetter by the second. To break the tension they chatted about his mother; she had brought him up on her own, father having died of a heart attack when he was just eight. Life had been hard for them, though he brought in a few precious pounds now from the round. She commended him and asked if he had a girlfriend, to which he coloured up and. The weights add to my discomfort, and I moan as more tears begin to flow… while the dreaded Mentor studies me… too intensely. His eyes seem to burn into my soul. I see in his eyes the danger of which he is capable. But he also seems to be drawing energy from my fear. He seems addicted to it, and cannot draw his attention from me. Eventually, he returns back to his chair, so that they can further observe my torture together. I don’t know how long I have been enslaved here. But I have been hanging here long enough for my arms and my legs to begin cramping and aching horribly. The Mentor gets up and leaves the room. He returns a few minutes later with a shocking device, as promised by my Master. It is a black stool with a very large black, shiny, hard-looking dildo attached to the rear portion of the seat. It is pointing straight up. It must be 10 inches long, and at least four inches in diameter at the base. It is covered in large veins and ripples. I look in the mirror.
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