Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Psychology of Slavery

   Solo-F, M/f, F/f, anal, bdsm, bond, collar, preg, nc, mc

   The class was called "The Psychology of Slavery".  It was the last
lecture before finals, given by Professor M.  Emmitt Terpin, PhD.  It was
about as boring as it could be; Katy could still recall Professor Emmitt
droning on, seemingly in love with the sound of his own voice.  "Free will
- what is it really?  To have free will, a person must be conscious that he
or she lacks it, and desires it.  Remove that consciousness, and you have a
slave."

   "Let us now consider the subconscious mind.  It is the fertile womb, is
the subconscious mind of man.  Whatever seeds of thought are inseminated
into the fertile womb will be conceived and made real."

   Midway through the lecture, Katy and Angelina, the Filipina girl who sat
beside her, slipped out the back of the lecture hall as if they were taking
a bathroom break and ended up at a frat party celebrating the end of
school. Consequently they missed the instructions on how they were going to
need to perform volunteer work in the Psychology Lab instead of taking the
final exam.

   Two days later they emerged from the frat house hung over and barely
able to stand, their legs weak and pussies sore from all the fucking. 
Their memories were in an alcohol and marijuana-induced haze; as they did
the walk of shame back to their dorm room for the last time, the final exam
had completely vanished from their minds.

   **************************

   The return address of the envelope was the Office of the Dean, in the
Psychology Department of her former University.  Katy looked at the letter,
not believing what she was reading.  Five years after graduating, she was
being notified a discrepancy had been discovered in her transcripts. 
Apparently, she had somehow not completed the requirements of her last
class as a senior.  The letter indicated that since officially she had not
graduated, the University was now requiring her to return and complete the
last credit hours.

   She was tempted just to throw the letter away, as she had her diploma
and didn't think they could do much about it.  As she read further,
however, she saw that if she did not complete these hours her transcripts
would be amended and sent to her employer, a manufacturer of tractors and
construction equipment.  Katy knew about the company policy requiring
termination of anyone who had used falsified credentials to get hired; it
had happened once already this year to some poor girl in Accounting.



   In addition, the letter stated that if she did not finish the last few
requirements, the $10,653.22 remainder of her student loans would be due
and payable immediately.  Having a weakness for shopping, Katy only had
$570 in the bank.  She'd have to have her wages garnished or even declare
bankruptcy.

   Reluctantly, she picked up the phone and called the number listed in the
letter.  The person that Katy spoke to was very sympathetic.  He explained
how the University wanted to make it easy to correct the situation, that it
would only require 2 days of lab time and Katy didn't need to miss work;
she could request vacation.  She wouldn't need to book a room, as she would
be staying on-campus for the duration of her visit.

   A few days later, Katy drove under the ivy arches that adorned the
entrance of State University.

   Her instructions were to park in one of the faculty garage guest spots
and go straight to the Psychology Department building's main office. 
Erected just prior to the Civil War, it was the oldest building on campus
with a brownstone façade mostly covered with ivy.  From street level it was
four stories, but had several levels that ran deep below ground.  Expensive
to maintain, the University had tried to tear it down until the local
preservationists had the building declared an historical landmark.

   It was Saturday and no one was sitting at the reception area, so Katy
rang the little bell marked "Ring for Service".  When she did so, a man
about her age came out to greet her.  He was tall and thin, with a long but
not unpleasant face; his prematurely gray hair was long and pulled back
into a ponytail.  He looked vaguely familiar.

   "Ah, you've arrived, and earlier than we expected you!  Splendid.  You
may not remember me, but I'm Dr.  Greg Ballard.  I was Dr.  Emmitt's
graduate assistant, then after getting my PhD, I took over his duties a
couple of years back when he retired.  Since I'm still teaching the
Psychology of Slavery, I was asked to take you through the lab sessions so
you could finally earn your credit." He shook Katy's hand.

   Katy remembered him now; some of the other coed students thought he was
a little creepy then, but he seemed normal now.  "Yes, Greg, I remember you
now, its nice to see you gain.  I kind of felt bad for you because Dr. 
Terpin wasn't very nice to you.  I didn't like how he always spoke to you
rather abruptly."

   He smiled.  "Katy, thank you for that kind thought.  You're correct of
course, he was abrupt but I didn't take it personally.  He was that way
with everyone.  Now first, we have a few housekeeping items.  I'll need
your car keys, please, so we can move your car.  While you're staying with
us it will be parked in off-campus long-term parking.  You know how
department budgets are these days, we have to watch every penny."

   "Oh, sure," she replied, a little wary now, but it seemed to make sense.
She handed them over.

   "Next, lets go into the dressing room." He led her in to a narrow hall
lined with lockers.  Opening one, he pulled out an orange jumpsuit with a
zipper down the front.  "Property of State University" was stenciled on the
back.  "You'll need to strip naked and put these on," he instructed, "then
put your clothes, shoes and purse in the locker."

   Shocked, Katy looked at him wide-eyed.  "Dr.  Ballard, aren't you going
to give me some privacy?" she asked quietly.  He scowled.

   "Miss Stovall, I am a behavioral scientist, and quite serious about my
work.  My interest in you lies only in your brain's processes.  My interest
in your physical form lies only within the parameters of the experiment,
which by the way has now officially begun.  You are merely a subject in the
experiment, nothing more."

   He had been speaking neutrally, but his manner of speaking took on a
harsh tone.  "If you do not wish to participate and would like to leave,
you may do so.  I would only ask that you think about the consequences of
not getting the required credit.  I daresay you would be unemployed and in
debt in the space of a few days.  In a word, you will be destitute.  The
choice is yours."

   Katy lowered her head in defeat and began to undress.  Once her clothes
were off Dr.  Ballard eyed her up and down, a flat expression on his face.
She blushed, knowing that her body was not in the best shape.  Her tits
were 28 B's with large nipples and still perky, but the flat hard stomach
and firm leg muscles she had maintained in college by religious exercise
had become soft pale mounds of flesh.  She had stopped wearing tight shorts
when she realized they highlighted her muffin-top waistline and
cottage-cheese thighs.

   His face still expressionless, he handed her the orange jumpsuit.  She
put it on, and found it to be quite loose and baggy.  "One more thing", he
said.  He opened up another locker and pulled out a black metal collar,
clamping it around her neck and locking it in place with a small padlock.
He clipped a short leash on it, and led Katy out of the locker area.

   In silence they passed through a series of dimly lit hallways,
descending a couple of metal staircases along the way.  Katy became
disoriented as to her location, knowing only that she was deep in the
bowels of the old building.

   Finally, he led Katy into a hallway lined with cells.  Most of them were
damp, with water dripping down their moss-covered walls.  The door of one
stood open, and he pushed her through.

   Katy looked around her temporary home.  Compared to the others it was
relatively dry, and the bars showed no signs of rust like the rest.  A
clean mattress lay on the elevated bedframe attached to the wall.  "Remove
your jumpsuit," he commanded.

   "What?!?!" she replied in horror, "This is SO not cool.  I don't care if
I do lose my job, this is too fucking weird, and I want OUT!""

   Dr.  Ballard's eyes narrowed.  "I regret to inform you, Miss Stovall,
that is no longer an option.  You had your chance before the experiment
began, and you made your choice.  Please give me the jumpsuit , or you will
be punished."

   Katy hadn't seen the riding crop hanging on the wall outside her cell,
but she felt it when Dr.  Ballard began whipping the tops of her feet and
her bare arms.  She dropped and curled up into a ball on her side, covering
her head with her arms to protect herself as his blows rained down.  When
she did that, he switched to whipping the bottoms of her feet for a few
moments before stopping.  "Remove the jumpsuit, slave," he ordered. 
Sobbing, she obeyed, her feet and arms now covered in red marks.



   Taking the jumpsuit, he slammed the door and locked it with a large key.
Katy didn't know that within the hour her personal possessions in the
locker would be incinerated; likewise, by the end of the day her car would
be just another rusting crushed hunk of metal in the local junkyard.  To
the world outside, she had simply vanished.

   *************************************

   Angelina Garcia sat demurely in a large red leather chair, holding her
teacup and saucer in her lap as she looked across the polished oak desk at
Dr.  Greg Ballard.  A beautiful Pinay with waist-length dark hair, she
always turned men's heads when she walked down the street.  Five months
pregnant, she was dressed in a modest flower-print maternity dress with
matching rose-hued kitten heels and a simple pearl necklace.

   "So Angelina, I'm glad you could stop in to ameliorate this little
grading error.  As I indicated in the letter, it will only take a few days
to make up the hours.  Were you able to get time off from the your job at
the bank?"

   "Yes," she replied softly.  To Greg, the sound of her voice was just as
beautiful as the rest of her.  "It was no problem, I just told them it was
a personal matter and they were quite understanding."

   "What about your husband?  What was his reaction?" Angelina rubbed her
baby bump, a look of sadness crossing her face.

   "I hope you don't think badly of me, Dr.  Ballard, but I'm not married.
My baby's father is out of the picture.  While were living together he was
caught robbing a gas station this last December; he ended up going to jail
for five years.  In about four months I'll be a single mom."

   Greg put his cup down, a look of sympathy across his face.  "Oh no,
Angelina, I would never judge you or even think ill of you.  You were such
a good student."

   "Except for that one time, right?" She gave him a small smile.

   Greg smiled back at her.  "Yes, well, let's talk about how we can set
that right.  I'm assuming you read the lecture notes I sent about the
conscious overpowering the subconscious, correct?" Angelina nodded in
affirmation.  "Good.  The experiment we're performing is based on that. 
Over the next few days, you'll be using those principles on our volunteer
for the slave role.  Like you, she's a person who has credit hour
discrepancy on her transcripts, and just as anxious as you are to complete
her transcripts.  To put her in the correct mindset, she's staying in a
room elsewhere on campus, separated separated from us much like the
plantation slaves were the main house in the 1800's.  When you see her,
don't be surprised at how she looks; she's adopted the dress and hygiene of
a slave for the sake of the experiment.  She's even taken a slave name. 
Refer to her only as `Ruby' when you see her."

   Angelina's eyes got wide.  "Wait a minute.  The only other person it
could be is Katy Stovall - she and I both skipped that last lecture."

   Greg clapped his hands in delight.  "Angelina, you have an amazing
memory.  You are correct, it is indeed Miss Stovall.  Since you already
know her, your familiarity with her will enhance your efforts." He glanced
at his watch.  "My goodness, it's late." Handing her a large envelope, he
continued.  "I've arranged for us to use the museum on the upper floor as
the setting for our experiment.  The 1800's-style residence there will be
perfect for our purposes.  I'll take you to your bedroom so you can rest
and read up on what we'd like to accomplish during the experiment.  We'll
start tomorrow morning at breakfast."

   *******************************

   A clanging on the bars of her cell woke Katy and she sat up, feeling
like she had slept only a few minutes.  The lights flickered on and she saw
Dr.  Ballard standing outside her cell with a large envelope, which he
pushed through the bars so it ended on her cell floor.  "Time to wake up,
slave," he said, "You need to study the material in this envelope.  You
have much to accomplish in the next few days.  Failure will be quite
painful for you." He gestured towards a coiled bullwhip hanging from a hook
on the wall opposite her cell.  "Oh, and by the way, for the duration of
the experiment your name is now Ruby.  If you do not play the role well,
you will be severely punished.  Keep in mind that this far underground, no
one will hear you scream when I do punish you." Before he left, he slid a
dog bowl full of cold pureed vegetables and oatmeal through the slot at the
base of the cell door.

   "You'll want to eat this, it will be the only food you get for the next
24 hours.  And put this on." He passed a large burlap sack through the
bars. The sack had holes cut in it for her head and arms.  "Many slaves
wore clothing made from burlap.  It's coarse, so it will rubs uncomfortably
against the skin and serves as a constant reminder of your enslavement. 
Burlap also came in handy when slaves had to work in the rain, as it could
withstand many exposures to dirt and moisture - you may end up dirty and
wet before the experiment is through." Having finished issuing his
instructions, he turned and left.

   Still groggy and disoriented, Katy crawled over to the corner of the
cell, relieving her bladder and bowels into a 12-inch open hole that had
been knocked in the concrete floor, excavated to about 18 inches deep. 
With no toilet paper to cleanse herself, she wasn't sure if the stench that
was developing was from her, or the hole she had to squat over.  After she
had finished, she crawled her way over to the dog dish and lowered her face
to eat...

   **************************

   The sun had gone down by the time Greg took Angelina to her bedroom in
the museum on the upper floor.  He explained, "The preservationists
designed the museum as a recreation of a Southern household during the time
of the Confederacy.  It's perfect in every detail, but what the
preservationists hadn't taken into consideration was the interest of the
students and faculty.  It's nonexistent.  The students don't care, and the
faculty considers the idea of commemorating the Confederacy an
embarrassment.  Thus, it's in pristine condition and perfect for staging
the experiment."

   After taking her to her room, Greg bid her a good evening.  Angelina
closed the door, then proceeded to take off her dress, shoes and pearls. 
Although she'd brought it, she didn't put on her nightgown.  Instead, she
stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bra and panties, studying
her pregnant body.



   Reddish stretch marks crossed her 5-month pregnant belly, and a dark
pigment line ran from her navel to her pubic bone.  She considered herself
fortunate that she had managed to avoid unnecessary weight gain.  Her
dancer's legs and arms were long and elegant.  Her face shape had not
become puffy like her older sister's did when she was expecting.  Her boobs
were another story; they had grown two full cup sizes in the past 5 months.
Turning around, she didn't like seeing cellulite dimpling on the upper
parts of her thighs, but felt she could exercise it off once her baby was
born.

   Angelina felt a tingling between her legs.  Her first trimester she had
mostly felt nauseated, not horny, but the second trimester the increased
blood flow to her genitals had lit her pussy up like a candle.  The
smallest things would trigger her lust, like looking at the butt of a
bicycle messenger riding down the street.  She pretty much lost her
self-control and masturbated often, even in the ladies' room at work when
she couldn't make it through the day without an orgasm.

   Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slipped her panties off; they were
wet in the crotch.  Propping herself up with her left arm on the bed behind
her, her right hand slipped down into her moist crack and began massaging
her clit and exploring her inner labia.  Her fingers were soon slick with
her own wetness, and she lay down on her back as she continued to pleasure
herself.  Her left hand reached up under her bra and began massaging her
nipples while the fingers of her right hand penetrated her vagina in search
of her g-spot.  Her breathing quickened, and in a few moments she cried out
sharply in pleasure as she climaxed, then relaxed as her pleasure
contractions eased up.

   After lying there for a few minutes her breathing returned to normal. 
Her baby moved a bit, and then gave a sharp kick.  Angelina chuckled, "You
enjoyed that as much as I did, you horny little lump.  What will mommy do
with you once you're born?" She got up and waddled barefoot down the hall
to the bathroom.  Sure she was alone, she didn't worry about being naked.

   After relieving her bladder and brushing her teeth Angelina came back to
her room.  She fell asleep, her dreams forming from the barely audible
subliminal messages issuing from the speakers hidden beneath her bed.

   Through the remote monitor, Greg watched Angelina sleep.  Eventually he
saw her hands making tiny jerking motions, a sign she was deep in REM sleep
and voyaging through dreams.  He got up from the console and walked softly
to her room.

   ************************

   In her dreams, Angelina was being worshipped as a goddess.  She sat on a
throne in her temple, her long hair, naked swelling breasts and huge belly
as testimony of her fertility.  The line formed, and her priests would
usher them in two at a time, worshippers wishing to receive her blessing.
She would touch the foreheads of each couple, and their faces became
pictures of absolute bliss.  The temple priests would then guide the
blessed couple to the great coupling hall where hundreds of bodies writhed
in passion, their fertile cocks and wombs creating new life for the coming
year.

   At the end of the line was one man, taller and more handsome than the
rest.  He had no woman with him.  She stood to confront him, her body
glowing like the sun.  "Why are you here?" she asked.  "Surely you know a
man cannot be blessed without a woman." He removed his breechcloth,
revealing an erect phallus of immense proportion.

   "I am here for you, my queen," he responded, and taking her by the hand,
led her to the center of the great coupling hall and laid with her.

   ************************

   Greg was overjoyed, as this was going much better than expected.  He
could tell Angelina's dream was deep and vivid by the way she moved and by
her murmured vocalizations.  Gently he moved her onto her left side, then
lay on the bed behind her.  He lifted her right leg slightly, forming an
upside-down "v" with her knee above and heel below so as to expose her wet
pussy; as he did so he caught the scent of her juices.  She gasped slightly
as he entered her with his hardness and he stopped, not wanting to wake
her.

   She did not wake up, but he could feel her pelvic muscles clenching at
him, urging him on.  Ever so slowly he began to move in and out...

   ************************

   Katy was awakened by the clanging of her cell door.  Her eyes opened,
and in the dim light Greg stood there naked, his cock hanging and
semi-rigid.  Dazed, she began to rise but he roughly pushed her back down
onto the mattress and straddled her, pressing his ass into her chest with
his knees on either side of her head.  Forcing her mouth open, he put his
cock in.

   "Clean me, Ruby," he ordered, and she began to suck, the mixed taste of
sperm and cunt juice filling her mouth.

   ************************

   Angelina awoke refreshed and energized.  Her dreams had been so vivid,
filled with sex and passion.  She shivered with delight at the
recollection. Sitting up, she reached down between her legs found herself
nearly overflowing with fluids.  The substance on her fingers looked like
cum, but that was impossible, so it must have been some kind of vaginal
discharge due to pregnancy.  The memories of her dreams were so strong her
pussy began to tingle; laying back down, she pleasured herself again.

   After a quick orgasm, the weak-kneed girl slowly got up and opened the
closet door.  The flower-print maternity dress and other accessories were
gone; in their place was a period dress straight out of the Antebellum
South, minus the undergarments and corsets.  On it a note read, "Breakfast
is served at 9." The clock on the wall said 8:45, so she hurriedly dressed
and brushed her hair, put on some light makeup and went to the dining room.

   ************************

   Katy awoke on her own.  "My name is Ruby," she reminded herself as her
head cleared, "Dr.  Ballard is Master, and the other woman is Mistress."
She desperately wanted some water, but there was none.  Her mouth tasted
awful.  She remembered Master became hard as she cleaned him, and soon
fucked her mouth and filled it with his seed.  Spermy crust had formed at
the corners but she had no way to clean herself.  Getting uneasily to her
feet, she stumbled to the toilet hole.

   As she squatted, the soreness in her hole reminded her that after
cumming in her mouth, Master had pushed her face down on the mattress and
taken her anally.  He told her if he got her pregnant it would lower her
value on the slave market.  With his balls so recently emptied, it took him
a long time to finally release in her; as a final humiliation she had to
taste her own ass when he made her clean him again.

   ************************

   Angelina sat at the breakfast table and rang the little bell to her
right.  The kitchen door opened and Ruby emerged carrying a plate of
pancakes, sausage, and a glass of orange juice.  "Your breakfast,
Mistress," she said.  Her eyes got wide as she realized her Mistress was
none other than Angelina Garcia, with who she had skipped class that
fateful day.

   Angelina was incredulous as well; it was true, Ruby the slave was her
old party pal Debra, dressed in a dirty burlap sack, her face soiled with
dirt and her hair a rat's nest.  She was also wearing a metal slave collar
and smelled like an outhouse.  After she set the meal on the table,
Angelina waved her over into the corner.  "Go away, slave.  You're going to
ruin my appetite if you stand too close."

   Ruby did as she was told.  "I'm sorry Mistress," she replied, not daring
to look Angelina in the eye.  Her mouth was watering at the smell of the
food.  She was very hungry, it felt like forever since she had something to
eat, and her stomach growled loudly.

   Looking in Ruby's direction, Angelina tossed a half-eaten sausage link
towards the corner.  It landed on the floor a foot short of Ruby, who stood
there trembling.  "You may have it, slave," she said and Ruby pounced on
it, devouring it in seconds.

   ************************

   Greg was pleased as he watched the activity in the dining area from his
remote monitor.  Ruby was acting according to plan.  He watched as Angelina
threw scraps of food on the floor in front of Ruby, making the slave wait
hungrily until she had permission to eat.  He pressed a button that
activated a second set of hidden speakers to play quiet music laced with
more subliminal suggestions

   ************************

   Soft classical music began playing as Angelina finished her breakfast.
Her good mood took a dark turn.

   Angelina drank some of her orange juice, then got up and walked over to
the corner where Ruby stood, eyes downward.  "Look at me," she commanded.
Ruby looked up, and Angelina took another sip of juice.  She held the glass
inches away from the slave's mouth.  "Would you like some?"



   "Yes, please, Mistress." Angelina brought the glass closer to Ruby's
lips, then deliberately dumped it on her.  Tears brimmed in Ruby's eyes.

   "Too bad." She laughed cruelly.  "So Ruby, or should I call you Katy,
you're in quite a mess, aren't you?  You were always so smart, skipping
classes and still getting good grades while some of us had to work hard for
what we got.  Now look at you.  You're disgusting.  What kind of a job did
you get after graduation?"

   "I got hired as an apprentice at a tractor assembly plant, Mistress.  I
still work there putting in wiring harnesses."

   "Well, that's not very impressive, is it?  I was hired by the IT
department at a major bank, and worked my way up to a senior position in IT
Security.  Admit it; I've done far better than you."

   Ruby cast her eyes down, ashamed.  "Yes, Mistress, I'm a failure. 
You're far smarter than I am.  You have so much more to offer the Master."

   Angelina grinned, in complete agreement.  "Yes, yes I do.  I'm smarter,
prettier, and more desirable than you, you filthy pig.  I can tell by his
eyes he wants me."

   "Yes, Mistress, he wants you, that's obvious.  I'm too disgusting for
him to want me - to him I'm just a slave.  When we were in class I used to
see him as he watched you from the back of the classroom.  You're
everything he wants in a woman, there's nothing more he could expect from
you.  Unless..."

   Angelina angrily grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head backwards.
"Unless WHAT, you stupid bitch?"

   "Unless you could somehow make him wealthy.  I was thinking since you
work for a major bank, you could..." Ruby stopped suddenly and shook her
head as if in denial.  "I'm sorry Mistress, I shouldn't have mentioned it.
You would never do such a thing.  That's why the bank values you."

   Angelina's eyes narrowed.  "That's bullshit.  They don't value me; I
just make them look good because I'm a woman and a minority.  They won't
ever promote me higher than I am now.  Every time I get passed over by some
white boy, they just tell me to be patient and my turn will come.  Those
bastards."

   Seeing her chance, the slave whispered, "Please, Angelina, you've got to
help me escape!"

   "Why should I?  I'm quite enjoying this." She slapped Ruby's face.  "And
you forget your place, slave.  Don't ever speak unless told to," she
warned. "Bad slaves get whipped, and maybe even sold.  Now get down on your
knees and face the wall."

   Ruby obeyed, and Angelina roughly pulled the burlap sack dress off of
her, throwing it to the floor in disgust.  With her face to the wall Ruby
didn't see Angelina open a drawer and remove a multi-tailed flogger.

   "Lace your fingers behind the back of your head." Ruby obeyed, and then
cried out in pain as Angelina stuck her.  Venting her rage towards the
bank, she began to whip the flogger across Ruby's back, butt cheeks, and
the bottoms of her feet.  She struck again and again until Ruby lay on the
floor sobbing, curled into a fetal position.



   "I'll show you what I can do.  I saw a laptop sitting in the museum
office.  Bring it to me, and make it quick."

   Ruby obeyed, and limped away.  Within a few minutes she brought the
laptop Angelina had requested.  As soon as it had booted up, Angelina's
fingers began to fly over the keyboard.  It didn't take long.  As a senior
member of the bank's IT department, Angelina was easily able to tap into
the servers.  Avoiding the security protocols was not an issue; she was the
one who had designed them.

   After calling up the list of 558,632 account numbers, she created an
algorithm that transferred random amounts ranging from $1.13 to $9.32 out
of each account and into a buffer account.  These random small amounts
would not even be noticed by most of the bank's customers.  (From her time
working in the bank, Angelina suspected at least 85% of their customers
were too stupid to even notice the small withdrawals; most couldn't even
balance their checkbooks.) Within 15 minutes, the balance in the buffer
account showed $5,678,231.22.

   Angelina typed a few more instructions, and the contents of the buffer
account were then forwarded to a switchback account in the Cayman Islands,
then dispersed to multiple pseduonym Cayman accounts.  The instructions
Greg had given her for the experiment said once the experiement was over he
would dump the stupid slave cunt; he'd use electroshock to wipe her memory
so the world would think she was just another homeless and mentally ill
street person.  While he did this Angelina should go to the Psych office
and wait for him there.

   ************************

   Greg watched the balance on his accounts suddenly increase - he was now
a rich man.  He turned to his slave.  "Are you almost done?" She ran to his
side, her hands and face smudged with dirt, her skin shiny with sweat.

   "Yes, Master.  The furniture has been taken away, and I've wiped all the
surfaces down." Greg felt a surge in his loins as he looked at her dirty
face.  He loved it when she was filthy, and would have bent her over a
chair and fucked her right there if they had the time.



   Instead, he handed her a small duffel bag.  "Katy, the experiment is
over," he told her.  "You played your part well, and helped make us both
rich.  Go to the locker room, shower quickly, then put these clothes on and
meet me out front.  I'll bring the car around." She turned to go, and he
impulsively pulled her back to him and kissed her deeply, running his hands
up and down her body.  "Don't be late," he whispered.  Katy smiled, her
future suddenly filled with promise.  They'd run away together, be filthy
rich, and her ordeal would have all been worth it.  She was truly happy for
the first time since she had begun the experiment.

   ************************

   The front door to the Psych department office was locked, the inside of
the glass papered over.  Angelina looked around frantically, and spotted a
elderly maintenance man changing a light bulb in the hallway ceiling, and
ran up to him.  "Excuse me", she asked, trying to control her rising panic,
"What time does the Psychology Department open?"

   "It opens at 9:00am, same as always," he replied, "but you're looking in
the wrong place.  The department moved across campus into Whittaker Hall
two years ago.  There's nothing in those offices but dust, and maybe a
ghost or two." He smiled and winked at her.

   Angelina walked as fast as she could to the new Psychology Department
office, and asked to see Dr.  Ballard.  The young receptionist blinked. 
"I've never heard of him.  " She turned and called over the cubicle wall
behind her, "Hey, Mary.  Is there a Dr.  Greg Ballard in the department?"

   A tall older woman came around the wall.  "Greg Ballard?  He's on
sabbatical in England, and won't be back for 6 months."



   Panicking, Angelina walked quickly back to her car unsure of what to do
next.  As she fumbled with her keys, a black sedan drove up and a man in a
black suit emerged, badge in hand.  "Angelina Garcia?" he asked. 
Speechless, she nodded yes.  "Miss Garcia, I'm Agent Adams from the fraud
division of the FBI.  We're investigating what we believe to be
embezzlement of a large amount of funds from your employer, and would like
to ask you a few questions."

   ************************

   Sitting in his beach house on Cayman Brac, Greg turned on the
television. On CNN there was a story about an arrest being made during an
investigation into embezzlement of a large sum of money from a large
national bank.  The screen showed the name and a mug shot of Angelina
Garcia, eyes red from crying and her hair disheveled.  The next image was a
video of her in a bright orange jumpsuit, being moved from a police car
into the county jail where she would be held for trial.  The jumpsuit was
baggy on the rest of her, but stretched tight across her pregnant belly.

   Greg watched as the camera panned in on Angelina's crying face.  He
relished the sound of her voice as she kept repeating, "It wasn't my idea,
they tricked me!" she was saying to the reporters as she was whisked
inside. The camera cut back to the news anchor, who explained how Angelina
was claiming a woman named Ruby had tricked her into doing it, but the FBI
said there was no evidence of co-conspirators.

   "I kind of feel sorry that she'll be giving birth in jail," he said
aloud "but that won't keep me from enjoying her money." Behind a ball gag
Ruby made small mewling noises as tears flowed down her cheeks.  She was
naked, kneeling beside him with her wrists and ankles cuffed.  Greg dropped
his hand down distractedly, his fingertips tracing the fresh red whip marks
on her back.

   Earlier, he had listed his little captive for sale on an internet slave
auction site; he had quickly discovered that a white college-educated
female slave could commanded premium prices.  He had received multiple
generous bids from Middle Eastern bidders almost immediately, and more were
pouring in.

   As the warm sea breeze wafted through the open windows, he sipped his
beer and paged through an old printout of the class list of names from the
Psychology of Slavery.  Ah!  Here was another one...