Umm... You've been summoned by committee...err... to the conference room..." she stumbled through the cryptic sentence with a bizarre tone before tu...ning around and jogging away. I didn't even say one word to her before she disappeared from my office. She almost sounded sarcastic, but I simply chalked that up to the tension of the impending meeting with company management. I walked through the office, completely deserted once the clock hit 5, like a man on death row. I knew this would be. “Thank you Master.”“Come here and kneel before your Master.” Briana complied. To her horror, Brianna saw her Master bring out a collar, a slave collar! Brianna had seen Negro slaves at her Aunt Jocasta’s plantation wearing collars. She was horrified by it. And now her Master was going to put one on her and there was nothing that she could do about that!“One of the previous passengers on this ship used this collar. I think that it will fit you. Pull your hair back out of the way so that I can. Tell the court, in my own words, what happened on the day in question. The trouble really started when I was asked to take the Upper Sixth on a school trip to visit H.M.S. Victory, the famous Royal Navy warship, which was Admiral Lord Nelson‘s flagship at the Battle of Trafalgar. I had better introduce myself. I am Miss Jane, the art teacher at the Saint Cecilia’s School for Girls, a private school for those who can afford our outrageous fees. And yes, I admit that many of the girls have a few. There was no time to recover, as you lifted me from the table and pushed me towards an open door that led to your bedroom. As we ascended the four steps from the hallway. A pause against the wall and two sets of wandering hands was all that was needed. Your hands were under my top, playing over my bare skin, slipping under the underwire of my bra. I whimpered as your thumbs skated over the underside of my breasts, arching my back towards you, asking wordlessly for more as you pushed up the bra.
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