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Subject: {ASSM} NEW: "Recall" - A TYTC Sequel - by The StoryMaster [m+~teen f, nc] 1/1
Date: Fri,  8 Dec 2000 09:10:03 -0500
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The following story is a work of fiction.  Its contents are of a
graphically sexual nature and may involve non-consensual sexual acts
between underage partners.  Any resemblance to persons either alive or dead
is purely coincidental.  This story is intended for ADULTS only.  If you
are under the legal age of consent in your local jurisdiction, or if you
are easily offended, kindly STOP READING NOW.

   Recall - Chapter One

   By - The StoryMaster Contributing Editor - Don D.

   "Alex, my friend, it's awfully good of you to return to help us in our
hour of need." Adam North, the Headmaster of The Youth Training Center,
said as he shook hands with his old friend and colleague.  For close to
twenty years Alex was North's second in command, and now his experience and
competence were once again sorely needed.

   "Glad to help out," Alex replied with a warm smile.  "You know I could
never let my old friends down."

   "Thank you, Alex.  That's good to know." North then fell silent.  He had
the reputation of being a thoughtful man and rarely spoke or acted without
first spending a moment to reflect.

   "I'm sure you've heard by now that we are faced with a potentially
serious challenge."

   Alex nodded and said, "I've heard some talk, but nothing of any
substance, really."

   "Let me give you a little background information," North said after
another customary pause.  For the last eight or nine months, our staff
psychologists have been deeply involved in the study of what we call Free
Radical Stimulation."

   Alex gazed thoughtfully at his former employer and remained silent.

   "Free Radical Stimulation, or FRS, is nothing new really.  We have
simply put a name to a phenomenon which I'm sure a tenured Handler such as
yourself has suspected for quite some time," North explained.  "FRS results
from the sympathetic stimulative energy generated by the movement of body
mass.  I say sympathetic, since it represents a secondary source of
excitation, one that is not the direct result of an action.  And because
this impetus is secondary, it has the potential to be unmanageable.  I
know, I know, this all sounds clinical as hell," North said with a wry
chuckle when he noticed an expression of puzzlement on his old friend's
face.  "But bear with me for a minute, Alex.  Let me give you an example,"
North offered.

   Alex nodded.

   "Breast sway is probably the leading contributor to FRS in a subject and
is the easiest to recognize," North explained.  "We all know that a young
lady's breasts tend to oscillate in time to her lover's cadence during
copulation.  The larger and more pendulous the breast mass, the more
pronounced these oscillations will be.  With me so far?"

   Alex nodded again.  "Until recently no one suspected that this rhythmic
movement of breast tissue during intercourse could lead to problems when
left unchecked.  If the truth be known," North said with noticeable
chagrin, "it wasn't until we began to develop our curriculum on the topic
of Arousal and Climax Management that we began to hypothesize that
ungoverned breast sway could possibly lead to an unanticipated increase in
the subjects' level of arousal.  It stands to reason when you think about
it," the Headmaster said with a shrug.  "After all, the female breast is
highly sensitive to mechanical stimulation.  As the breast mass undulates,
resulting from body movement, resulting from the thrusting force of a
partner, energy is conducted by the fatty tissues and delivered to the
extremely impressionable erogenous areas of the areola and nipple. 
Consequently, without her partner ever touching her breasts, a young lady
can derive additional excitation, or FRS, simply from their movement. 
Since this sympathetic stimulation is not under the direct control of her
partner, one of the basic precepts of expedient A/C Management is
compromised."

   Adam North fell silent for a time while his trusted former colleague
pondered this information.

   "I take it that's not all," Alex said, looking up at North with a wry
smile.

   "Actually, that's just the proverbial `tip of the iceberg'," said the
TYTC Headmaster.  "Like I said, breast sway is easily recognized.  In fact
we've developed several very effective methods to identify and deal with
the problem.  Unfortunately," Adam North continued with a sigh, "there are
literally dozens of other ways that FRS manifests itself.  Many of them are
particularly subtle."

   Again the Headmaster fell silent, organizing his thoughts before
continuing.

   "Now to the real meat of the problem," he said at last.  "Until recently
we believed that FRS was strictly a physical manifestation, induced
entirely by mechanical forces." Then, with a sheepish expression on his
handsome face, Adam North looked directly at his old friend and admitted,
"We were wrong, Alex."

   "How do you mean?" Alex prompted after a respectful pause.

   "You know better than anyone, my friend, that the cornerstone of our
doctrine states that given appropriate stimulation, a female, regardless of
the circumstances of her involvement, will eventually become an active and
willing participant.  Since we first opened our doors in 1986, everyone in
our employ has operated under the premise that eventually our Guests, who
for the most part are here against their wills, will learn to cooperate. 
Then as time and training progress, they become increasingly more
accommodating.  Right?"

   Alex nodded curtly.

   "That's what we thought," North said.  "The key word here is
`eventually'.  Eventually any and all young ladies will conform to our
programs and principles, but what one bright young Associate discovered
about six months ago is that a few of our Guests seem to acclimate in a
much shorter period of time than most.  For years we attributed these
relatively isolated incidences to the effectiveness of our training
program. We congratulated ourselves for the speed with which a few of our
young Guests adjusted to their new lives and responsibilities, but what
appeared to be success was actually FRS in disguise," North admitted.  "The
problem was right there in front of us, but no one saw it.  I guess it took
the fresher perspective of a new Associate Handler to recognize the
obvious."

   "What our Junior Handler recognized is that for a small number of young
women, being taken forcibly, if you will, can be an exciting experience. 
To put it another way, some females will derive emotional Free Radical
Stimulation from non-consensual sex.  Since the initial discovery of this
elusive form of FRS, we have actually noted signs and symptoms in a Guest
during her Induction Interview."

   "Really?" Alex commented rhetorically.

   "That's right, and you and I have probably seen it first hand on more
than one occasion and failed to recognize it," North added.  "Part of the
reason for our lack of recognition is this.  At first glance, it doesn't
sound like a problem at all if a Guest gets `turned on' by her training
program.  After all, Isn't that what we're after?" North spread his hands
in a questioning gesture.  "Let's reflect on that for a moment.  I realize
that the science behind Arousal and Climax Management is somewhat foreign
to you, Alex, but a man of your experience is certainly more than familiar
with its implementation," Adam North stated, complimenting the venerable
Senior Handler.  "To the trained A/C Manager, any source of ungoverned
stimulation must be considered to be potentially problematic, since it can
lead to unanticipated changes in the subject's level of arousal."

   "Ask yourself this.  If a Guest derives excitement and therefore
stimulation purely from the non-consensual nature of her training program,
will she enjoy the full benefit of that program?  With FRS masquerading as
acceptance or even obedience, is she not, in essence, out of control under
the true definition of A/C Management?"

   "I think I see what you're getting at," Alex told his former employer.

   "Good," North replied.  "Because it is a huge problem as you will soon
see.  We now believe that a Guest who becomes overly cooperative very early
in her training program is quite possibly suffering from Emotional Free
Radical Stimulation Syndrome.  EFIRS, we call it," North said in all
seriousness.  "More over, our staff psychologists and physiologists have
determined that there is little doubt that a Guest suffering from EFIRS
cannot possibly realize the full benefit of our program of conditioning. 
In essence her disorder causes her to take an emotional shortcut to a state
of induced pseudo-cooperation without first learning acceptance,
submissiveness, respect and obedience."

   "Although we haven't yet been able to compile what we consider to be a
suitable quantity of data with which to conduct a thorough analysis, our
statisticians have determined that perhaps one in one hundred-seventy
females potentially will suffer from EFIRS.  The ramifications for The
Youth Training Center stemming from the discovery of this condition are
staggering, but the simple fact is this.  Based upon the findings of our
initial investigation, we believe that we may have unwittingly graduated as
many as eighty to ninety `flawed' young women."

   Adam North, who'd been leaning forward on his elbows, sat back in his
leather chair with a decidedly concerned expression on his face.  Nothing
was said by either man for a good long while.  Then at last, it was Alex
who broke the silence.

   "It certainly appears we have a problem.  What needs to be done, and
what can I do to help?" His confidence was refreshing.

   With a troubled smile, but a smile none the less, Adam North said to his
friend, "Alex, I just can't tell you how much I appreciate you coming to
our aid." Then after one of his characteristic delays, North outlined his
plans.

   "First of all, I've ordered the direct recall of approximately forty
Guests whom we strongly suspect may have suffered from EFIRS while in our
care.  Additionally, communiques have been sent to all of our past Clients,
informing them that a potential problem exists, and requesting that if they
are even the slightest bit suspicious about the level of conditioning of
one of our Graduates, they should contact us immediately."

   "How are we fixed for bed space at the moment?" Alex asked.

   "That's another problem," North replied.  "We were already operating at
near capacity even before we discovered EFIRS.  Now we're facing a serious
challenge.  I've ordered the Cafeteria to be converted into additional
dormitory space as well as several of the Encounter Chambers.  We can
double up on Night Partnering for awhile, but the staff is going to get
fatigued pretty quickly," the Headmaster noted.

   "Speaking of the staff, thank God we took on a new group of trainees
eight weeks ago, or we'd really be in trouble.  As it is, we are forced to
rush the Candidates through their training in order to meet the additional
population demands.  Fortunately there are a few truly gifted young men
among this year's class, and the rest are quite competent to assume routine
duties given some supervision.  As more and more recalled young ladies
arrive into our care, our class of Candidates will just have to get some
`on the job' training," North added with a pensive smile.  "Make a point of
introducing yourself to Rick Adams and Tom Mathews.  Mr.  Adams in
particular is one of the most promising young men that I've had the
pleasure to meet in many years."

   "Oh, before I forget," North added.  "Go see the Coach.  I've never seen
him in such a lousy frame of mind.  He's really feeling the pressure, I'm
afraid."

   "Don't tell me the Coach is finally feeling his age," Alex said with a
wink and a chuckle.  Then he added, "I'll go see if I can't cheer him up.
I'm sure he'll want to hear how Patricia and Courtney are doing."

   North paused, gazing at his old friend fondly but with obvious concern.

   "Alex, I need you to be my morale officer among other things," the
Headmaster said at last.  "Tensions are running pretty high around here,
and it's bound to get worse.  I need a man with your experience and
confidence to serve as an example for the more junior staff members.  We're
all going to have to give one hundred ten percent for the next month or
two, and I'm relying on you, Alex, to keep our Associates functioning as a
team."

   "You can count on me, Mr.  North," Alex responded, waxing formal.  The
two old friends exchanged warm smiles.

   "So how are those two little princesses of yours?" North exclaimed more
light heartedly after a contemplative pause.  "How old are they now?"

   Alex smiled and replied, "Oh, they're just fine.  Patricia is thirteen,
going on thirty, and Courtney just turned fourteen last month.  They're
quite a handful, those two, I assure you." Alex grinned.  "It's all I can
do to keep up with them some days."

   Alex spoke and acted like any proud parent would when he talked about
his two girls, but Patricia Martin, and Courtney Douglass were certainly
not his daughters.  The two lovely young ladies had been given to Alex on
the day of his retirement as a farewell gift and token of appreciation for
his many years of dedication and service.

   "I'm sure they are a handful," North chuckled.  He remembered fondly the
quality time that he'd personally spent with Miss Courtney Douglass during
the early days of her conditioning program.  Courtney was one of those
demure young ladies who entered into a relationship reluctantly.  As with
most reserved youngsters, however, all Courtney required was a firm hand
and some patient coaxing to cause her to blossom into a rose of sensuality
and passion.

   Adam North hadn't had the pleasure of Miss Martin's company, but he
recalled the fiery disposition of the pretty curly headed brunette at her
Induction Interview.  Later he'd heard reports about Miss Martin's
challenging yet satisfying progress.  North had no worries about the
possibility of EFIRS where Patricia and Courtney were concerned.  He felt
quite certain that under the tutelage of his former executive officer, the
two young ladies now led useful and satisfying lives.

   "Yes, yes they are," Alex said with a reflective sigh.  Then he became
more businesslike.  "How is Medical dealing with the influx, and are
supplies holding out?"

   "The Gyn Section informs me that they expect to be able to handle the
increased demands for routine exams.  Many of the returnees are already on
a regular Thelazine regimen administered by their respective Life
Companions, and those who aren't, will be reintroduced to treatment right
away," North explained.  "Last month we had a vicious outbreak of yeast
infection, but I'm told it's under control now." He reached for a clipboard
that hung from a hook on the wall beside his desk.  After flipping through
a few pages he looked up at Alex.  "It looks like most of our supplies are
at adequate levels.  We have a goodly stock of menstrual products, tampons,
napkins, douches, etc.." Then he frowned.  "Our biggest problem will be the
fact that CAP Devices are in extremely short supply."

   "I thought I saw an awful lot of Handlers providing Manual Presence out
there," Alex commented, nodding toward the office door."

   "Yeah, we're coping, but it's putting a strain on available manpower,"
North replied.  We simply don't have enough Handlers even with our new
group of Candidates to spare trained personnel to follow the Guests around
all day.  R&D's been instructed to step up production of the Mark IV's, but
until they're able to supply our needs we'll have to make due with a few
Mark I's."

   Alex nodded.  "They served us well for many years." The pride was
readily apparent in his voice.

   "They certainly did," North agreed.  "I've ordered that all returnees
shall be CAP'd immediately upon induction.  No exceptions," the Headmaster
said with conviction.  "If we run out of Mark I's, we'll just have to
resort to Manual Presence until R&D comes through for us." Again Alex
nodded his understanding.

   "Until such a time as our returnees can be examined by our Psych Dept.
to identify those suffering from EFIRS, I strongly believe that they should
all be reacquainted with the practice of inward focus and reintegrated into
our fold.  There's simply nothing more effective that I know of to help a
young lady center herself and concentrate on her legitimate
responsibilities than anal presence."

   Alex agreed with another nod.

   "Additionally, I have ordered training collars for all returnees.  We
want to be able to quickly identify these young ladies, both for security
purposes as well the ability to recognize those in need of special
handling. The collars are being fabricated as we speak and should be ready
in a day or two."

   A shriek followed by a muffled curse caused both men to look toward the
closed door of the Headmaster's Office.  A moment later, Alex turned to his
former employer and smiled.  "Haven't heard that for awhile," he said. 
"It's good to be back."

   "Let's go to work then, my friend," Adam North said as he stood up from
his big swivel chair.  "As soon as you get settled into your quarters, why
don't you head down to Room 109," North suggested.  "You remember how to
get there, I hope?" he added with a wry smile.

   "I'm getting older, but I'm not senile yet!" Alex scolded playfully.

   "Kevin should be there with the Candidates Class, running through a few
drills.  We just took in nine returnees and two new Guests this morning. 
Kevin suggested that we use the opportunity to let the trainees practice
their basic handling skills, and at the same time let our young ladies
re-acclimate to their daily responsibilities."

   "Sounds like a good idea," Alex said as regained his feet.

   "Kevin's been doing a fine job since you left," North commented.  "He's
become a key player, particularly in the training arena.  I suspect we'll
make him a team leader by the end of the month."

   "I always figured that Kevin would go far.  He's a highly motivated guy
and takes his work seriously," Alex noted.

   "Indeed he does.  I suspect you'll probably run into Hugh and Cliff
while you're down at 109.  Tell Cliff I need to see him later today.  Will
you?" North asked politely.

   "Sure thing, Boss," Alex replied cheerfully.  He looked forward to
seeing his former coworkers.  "Oh, by the way," North added as Alex turned
for the door.  "We're having Patricia and Courtney brought in this evening.
Anything else you need from home to make your stay more comfortable?"

   "Can't think of anything right off hand," Alex replied.

   "OK, I guess that about does it," North said, extending his hand to his
friend.  "Again, I can't thank you enough for coming in, Alex."

   Shaking his boss's hand Alex responded, "Think nothing of it.  I'm
looking forward to getting back into the swing of things.  It's been too
long." Alex turned and headed for the office door.

   "Don't forget to drop in on the Coach," North reminded his capable
Senior Handler just before the door closed behind him.

   "Not to worry," Alex replied cheerfully, then he was gone.

   "Touch her with a little more authority, please.  It's vital that she
understand who is in charge," Kevin instructed the slightly bashful young
man dressed in fresh white coveralls.  "Here, let me show you."

   Having said that, the Handler/Instructor took the trainee's place,
stepping directly in front of the naked young girl.  "Look at me, Miss
Benning," Kevin order.

   "Guests shall maintain direct eye contact with their partner or partners
while being attended to," he then stated, quoting one of The Youth Training
Center's Non-negotiable Standards.

   Slowly the girl raised her head until her eyes met with those of the
TYTC Handler.  She was pretty as were the majority of the girls who came to
the Center, but unlike most, this was Chelsea Benning's second visit to the
exceptional institution.  She couldn't believe she was back in what she
considered to be a sinister prison filled with mad men.  It had been about
six months since she'd last stood where she stood now, and Chelsea was
still in shock.  Her inner thighs and lower abdomen ached from the dense
composite CAP Device that had been inserted into her rectum only minutes
following her arrival.  Chelsea felt deeply invaded.  It was a feeling she
remembered with a mixture of hatred and revulsion.  Another thing that
Chelsea remembered was that the men dressed in spotless white coveralls
were not to be disregarded or trifled with.

   "That's better," Kevin commented when at last the girl's trembling gaze
met with his dark stare.  "Feet to shoulder width, please," he instructed
the pretty blond, after placing his left hand onto her right shoulder.  Her
skin was smooth and warm beneath his powerful fingers.  Kevin nodded to the
two Handlers who'd led the girl into the classroom and who stood at the
ready just behind her.

   Chelsea knew better than to disobey, and slowly she moved her right foot
to one side.  Her heart pounded in her chest as adrenaline pumped through
her veins.  Powerful feelings of fear and frustration and rage assaulted
her mind, making rational thought nearly impossible.  Then his hand was
upon her.

   "Oh God, nnnnnn!" Chelsea screamed silently, gritting her teeth.  Tears
sprang from her bright blue eyes as she struggled to keep her gaze fixed
upon the dark eyes of her defiler.  "How could she be back here again?  How
had they found out?" her tortured thoughts cried.

   "Good morning, Miss Benning," Kevin stated formally in order to properly
demonstrate the Standard Greeting technique.

   As the man's hand started to rub and to squeeze her in the most guarded
and private area of her femininity, surprisingly powerful and undeniable
sensations slowly began to suppress coherent thought, causing Chelsea to
`listen' to her Inner Female.

   Kevin stared purposefully into the young blond's eyes, peering through
the windows to her soul, watching for those signs recognizable to the
trained eye that manifested her level of compliance.  The
Handler/Instructor also observed a stunning array of expressions which
flashed on her pretty face like a slide show.  Kevin considered this to be
one of the more enjoyable and rewarding parts of his job.

   "Always handle her with authority," Kevin repeated for the benefit of
the more than twenty young men who stood nearby and who made up the current
class of TYTC Handler Candidates.  "Surprisingly, in time, this will
provide a calming influence for the Guest.  Initially I like to part my
fingers into pairs to either side of her pubic slit.  This allows me to
palpate the labia majora more effectively while I continue my massage of
the genital area," Kevin instructed.  "Look at me, Miss Benning," he
corrected his pretty subject when she momentarily dropped her eyes from
his. Her face was ablaze with abject humiliation.  "Push upward with your
finger tips and try to keep the heel of your hand pressed tightly against
her pubic arch.  Let her know that you're there and in control and will
remain so until such a time as you choose to cease and desist.  Any
questions?" Kevin asked his class then removed his hand from between
Chelsea's thighs and stepped back.

   "Ok, try it again," he said to the young man who's place he'd taken. 
"And remember, any time you touch her, you will affect the level of her
arousal." Kevin saw a few appreciative nods from his class of trainees. 
"Just a reminder that it's up to you to control her degree of ardor at all
times.  Don't let her get away from you."

   Each of the approximately twenty young men were then instructed to try
their hand at the Standard Greeting technique.  For the next forty minutes
Chelsea was forced to endure being touched and fondled by each trainee in
turn.  "Good morning, Miss Benning," each man said as if they were passing
the time of day.

   Meanwhile, all throughout the demeaning ordeal, the man whom Chelsea
assumed was in charge, coached and prompted, casually referring to her like
the training aid she'd become.  On occasion he'd step in to demonstrate,
and during those times, there was little doubt in Chelsea's mind about who
was in charge.  "When you enter her, use your first finger, and do it
swiftly and completely," Kevin instructed during one such demonstration.

   "Hmmphh," Chelsea huffed unconsciously in response to the invasion upon
her person.

   "Silence, Miss Benning!" the big man in white coveralls snapped. 
"Guests shall remain silent while being attended to," he added, quoting
another of the hateful standards of the despicable institution.

   Chelsea winced and shut her eyes in an instinctive attempt to block out
the repugnance of it all.  The man's finger was so very long and his touch
so invasive and degrading.  Chelsea could remember boys she'd been with
who's penises hadn't delved so deeply.  She shuddered involuntarily.

   "Look at me, Miss Benning," the man corrected her.  His finger moved
purposefully inside of her, foraging, touching her everywhere.

   Caught up in the moment, Chelsea failed to recognize the fact that her
vaginal passage seemed to be unusually well lubricated given the
circumstances.  In addition to having a CAP Device inserted into her
rectum, Chelsea had also been given her first dose of Thelazine soon after
her arrival.

   [Author's Note: References to the drug Thelazine and the CAP principle
can be found throughout the TYTC Series.  TYTC 4.5 contains an excellent
description of Thelazine and its exceptional effectiveness.  Continuous
Anal Presence and the CAP Device, are mentioned many times in many chapters
of the TYTC saga.  The CAP theory and use of these extraordinary devices
plays a major role in the conditioning program of every Guest of the
Center. - SM]

   Kevin smiled at the pretty teenager as she reluctantly complied with his
wishes.  He felt the spontaneous contractions of her vaginal walls around
his probing digit as the Thelazine helped her to respond to her natural
urges.  Although Chelsea's reproductive anatomy was being effectively
coerced into the spirit of the moment, her thoughts and emotions were far
from falling into compliance.  Kevin made a mental note as he witnessed the
unbridled hatred in the girl's facial expressions and icy blue stare, that
Miss Benning may very well be suffering from EFIRS.  He hadn't had a chance
to review her dossier, but it seemed to him that he remembered her from her
first visit to the Center.  Then again, he'd seen so many young women over
the past three years of his tenure with TYTC.  But something about Chelsea
rang a bell with Kevin.  He'd have to review her records later.

   "Remember, the Standard Greeting is not just another way to make friends
and influence people," Kevin said with a wry smile to the young men
gathered around him.  "We use this technique and others like it to instill
a sense of powerlessness in our young ladies.  Our desire is for our Guest
to eventually come to the conclusion that her body and her sexuality are
not hers either to give or to withhold."

   Chelsea managed to contain her growing outrage at what the filthy,
wicked man was saying to his class of demented monsters.  His touch was
proving to be a powerful distraction.  Kevin located her Grafenberg Spot.
Chelsea silently admonished herself for so easily falling prey to the man's
attentions, unwittingly blaming herself for her weakness of character when
actually Thelazine was responsible for her premature attentiveness.

   "Our goal is for our Guests to develop a new self-image," Kevin went on
to explain to his class.  He felt the girl's instinctive reaction to his
manipulation of that area of the vagina that most women will admit yields
remarkable results.  In spite of the animosity portrayed on her face,
Chelsea was starting to participate.  "We hope that one day, our Miss
Benning here will view herself as Fully Functional Female, one who's
purpose is both defined and controlled.  And, gentlemen," Kevin said to his
class, "you may rest assured that in time, she will."

   With that he extracted his hand from Chelsea then held it up so that she
and the class of Handler Candidates could plainly see that at least three
of his fingers were coated with a clear, silky fluid.

   Chelsea could not contain a heated blush as the man rubbed his fingers
together slowly before her troubled eyes.  Then a deep sense of humiliation
and disgrace descended upon her as she realized the true significance of
what she saw.

   "OK, let's have another Guest, shall we," Kevin said at the end of an
uncomfortable period of silence.  "Thank you, Miss Benning.  You may go
now," he said, dismissing her without further consideration or comment. 
Chelsea was led away by two helpful attendants.

   The class waited for a moment or two then suddenly, "Let go of me, you
bastards!" a female voice cried angrily.

   All heads turned in the direction of the rear door to Room 109 and the
source of the shrieked expletive outburst.  Even Kevin was surprised by the
ferocity that the pretty brown haired girl exhibited as she struggled to
break free of the two Handlers who escorted her into the room.  "Fuck you!
Fuck all of you!" the girl bellowed.  Her short brown was a tousled mess
from her struggles, and her slim body pitched and writhed between the two
big men.

   Rachael Monroe was sixteen years old.  Just three months ago she'd been
released by the Center into the custody of her family.  More specifically,
into the loving care of her step-brother, Nigel after having spent nearly
two months at TYTC among men whom she thought of as a group of deviant
fiends.  Now, for some unholy reason, she was back, and Rachael Elaine
Monroe was positively furious.

   Rachael's life was anything but normal following her return to normalcy.
Her first night home was spent in the loving arms of her step-brother,
providing him with all manner of amorous entertainment and setting the tone
for things to come.  It was the next day that Rachael received a totally
unexpected and profoundly soul wrenching shock.

   She hadn't seen either of her parents the evening before after being
delivered home by an unmarked transport van.  Nigel had greeted her at the
front door, and immediately escorted her to his bedroom.  The rest of the
evening was history.

   Rachael was a little wobbly on her feet from fatigue and lack of sleep.
Nigel had taken her anally just before sunrise and she was still a bit sore
as she headed for the kitchen.  No one was around, so Rachael went to the
refrigerator and rummaged about until she found some orange juice.  Pouring
herself a glass, she walked to the table in the familiar sunny breakfast
nook and took a seat.  She stared blankly out of the window as a tumult of
thoughts and emotions washed over her.

   Suddenly a familiar voice said, "Well, hello dear.  So good to have you
home."

   Rachael turned quickly and saw her mother standing in the doorway, a
smile on her face.

   "Did you have a good time at camp?" she asked.  "I hope you learned a
lot.  Nigel promised your father and me that if we let him enroll you
at..." She hesitated trying to remember the name of the place her daughter
had been for two months.  "The Youth....  The Youth Training Center, that's
it." She smiled warmly at her stunned teenage daughter.  "Nigel promised us
that you would be a changed young woman when you returned home.  You were
so spoiled, dear, and your attitude was very unbecoming for a young lady,"
her mother remarked in a patronizing way.

   Rachael couldn't believe her ears.  Her mouth opened and closed in
silence as she struggled to find the words to express her astonishment. 
When at last she found her voice she said in a breathless rage, "Cam.... 
Camp!?!  Mom, do you know what they did to me there!?!  It...  it...it...."
Her sentence quickly deteriorated into senseless spluttering.

   "Now, now, dear," Rachael's mother said, cutting her off.  "Just calm
down, and let me fix you some breakfast.  Nigel said you might get a little
worked up now and then until you get used to being home again.  Nigel is
such a good boy.  He really cares about you, you know."

   He mother's last remark was simply too much for Rachael to tolerate. 
Literally jumping up from her seat, she crossed the kitchen and grabbed her
mother by the shoulders.  Then, while shaking her rather roughly, the irate
teenager shouted just inches from the woman's face.  "Mom, Nigel is a
monster!  He only cares about one thing and one thing only.  Do you know
what he made me do last night?  He..."

   "That's enough, Rachael!" her step-brother ordered from the kitchen
door.

   Rachael would never understand why she fell silent, but almost
reflexively her mouth practically snapped shut.  The next thing she knew,
her step-brother stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

   "Good morning, mother," Nigel said politely.  I'm sorry if Rachael's
upsetting you.  Remember, I told you, the Center said, it's gonna be awhile
before she feels like part of the family again.  Unseen by the older woman,
Nigel dropped his right hand down behind his pretty step-sister where it
came to rest on the hard lump beneath the terry cloth bathrobe she wore.

   At the urging of The Youth Training Center, Nigel agreed to keep his
step-sister on a program of Continuous Anal Presence, at least for the
first month, to help her maintain focus while she adjusted to her new
surroundings and responsibilities.  So, following their love making and
Rachael's morning toiletries, Nigel CAP'd her.  Now he saw the wisdom in
the Center's sage advice.

   "I guess we're going to have to work on that temper of yours, Rachael,"
her step-brother cooed from just behind her left ear, his fingers closing
gently around the dense composite material of the butt end of her CAP
Device which was easily accessible even through the material of her robe.
He felt her body grow tense in his grasp when he moved the deeply implanted
appliance only slightly.  "Now apologize to your mother, and then I want
you to go to your room.  Do you understand?" Nigel asked with a thinly
veiled tone of authority.  He tapped lightly on the end of her CAP with his
finger tips.

   "Uhgg!" Rachael gasped softly, feeling the conducted force of her
step-brother's manipulation of her CAP directly against the tip of her
spine.  The fingers of his other hand dug painfully into the muscles of her
shoulder.  Rachael was close to tears from frustration and anger as she
gazed into her mother's eyes, but obediently she said, "I'm sorry, Mom."
Then she looked away quickly, and allowed Nigel to escort her from the
kitchen.

   Rachael's life soon became routine.  Like other girls her age, she went
to school every day.  She attended classes.  She participated in sports. 
To the casual observer Rachael's life appeared to be fairly normal with the
exception of the fact that for such an attractive young lady, she kept
pretty much to herself, and associated with only a handful of friends,.  If
one were to investigate more closely, one might also note that what few
friends Rachael Monroe had were all female.  She did not seem to be
interested in boys, although at her age and with her good looks, many tried
to approach her.  A more discriminating observer might also notice that
Rachael's step-brother, Nigel, always seemed to be close at hand.  This was
a bit unusual for a teenage girl.  Most of the other girls Rachael's age
tended to shun their brothers' company, fearing that it might interfere
with their ability to attract a potential mate.  Nigel, on the other hand,
seemed to be omnipresent in his sibling's daily life.  He drove Rachael to
school each morning, and every afternoon he escorted her home.

   Once home, Rachael Monroe's life diverged from the norm rather
drastically.  Both of her parents worked, so she and Nigel had the
afternoons to themselves.  The two working class adults never comprehended
the true scope of the relationship between Nigel and Rachael, but could
plainly see that Nigel cared a great deal for his younger sibling.  After
all, it had been Nigel's idea to send Rachael to "camp", and both Mrs. 
Monroe and her second husband, Doug McKinsey, agreed that the change that
had come over their once headstrong young daughter following her time away
was a marked improvement.

   Rachael's seeming lack of interest in boys was mostly due to the
steadfast and diverse diet of amorous attention she received from her
step-brother at home.  Their conveniently adjoining bedrooms allowed
step-brother and sister to spend virtually unrestricted quality time
together every day.  Nigel promised that some day he would introduce
Rachael to some other guys, but for now he would provide her with all the
love that a growing sixteen year old girl could ever want or need.

   And provide he did.  Rachael's day began and ended in her step-brother's
arms.  Every morning when she awoke in Nigel's bed, he was usually already
inside of her, even before she became fully conscious.  He would then make
love to her slowly and patiently, keeping her right on the verge of climax,
but never quite letting her escape into the oblivion of orgasm.  More often
than not, Nigel would take her a second time in the shower, sometimes
anally, sometimes vaginally, however the mood struck him.

   Thankfully, after her first month home, her step-brother stopped
insisting that she wear that horrible thing up her rear end every day.  It
hurt like hell when Rachael sat in the desk seats at school.  Every now and
then, though, particularly if she was at all uncooperative, Nigel would
make her bend over and remain silent while he pushed the dreadful device
deep into her tender nether passage where it would remain for several days.


   "When it hurts you," he would tell her.  "I want you to think about me
and how much I care about you, Rachael."

   Lately, Nigel had taken to shoving his finger up her backside whenever
the opportunity presented itself.  He picked the worst times, too.  From
the beginning Nigel forbad Rachael to wear panties, and as if it weren't
enough of a challenge for Rachael to keep from exposing herself in front of
her peers at school, whenever Nigel caught her alone he would casually
reach under her skirt; she wasn't allowed to wear slacks; and slip his
first finger into her rear end.  Once he actually did it to her while she
stood talking to two of her female acquaintances.

   Rachael knew he was there.  She recognized his scent.  "Huh?  W..what?"
she asked stupidly, struggling to remain a part of the conversation and to
concentrate on what the two young girls were saying.  It took every ounce
of Rachael's self-control to keep from slapping his hand away when her
step-brother started to fumble with the hem of her skirt.  She couldn't
believe he was going to do this to her now, in front of her friends. 
Hoping against hopes that her companions wouldn't notice, Rachael jumped
slightly when his finger tips wiggled between the cheeks of her shapely
little butt.  Rachael Monroe had a nice butt.  Somehow she managed to
maintain control so her friends never knew that while she stood chatting
with them in the school hallway, her step-brother's long middle finger was
moving slowly in and out of her anal passage.  Nigel even entered into the
conversation once or twice.  His nonchalance was remarkable, considering
what he was doing to his step-sister right in front of her friends.

   Rachael couldn't remember ever being more thoroughly mortified, but in
spite of the "delicacy" of the situation, she felt a sultry blush begin to
rise in her face and neck.  Rachael was beside herself, feeling certain
that her friends would notice sooner or later.  She prayed that Nigel would
tire of this insanity and leave her alone, before she became any more
aroused.  What Rachael didn't know was that the few friends she had were
accustomed to seeing her arrive at school with her neck and shoulders still
slightly flushed from her early morning activities.  In fact, when Rachael
was out of ear shot, the other girls whispered among themselves that since
she'd come home from wherever she'd been, Rachael always seemed to have a
certain "glow" about her, even though she didn't have a boyfriend.

   It seemed like forever, but at last Nigel dropped his hand from beneath
Rachael's skirt and joined the circle of her high school girl friends.  The
girls all giggled at some remark he made, then with a smile, Nigel turned
to his step-sister and popped his finger into his mouth.  Rachael watched
with a mixture of horror and disgust while Nigel sucked on the very same
finger he'd used on her a minute earlier.  After an endless few seconds
Nigel drew his finger from between his lips with an audible "smack", winked
at his stunned step-sister and sauntered away like nothing out of the
ordinary had occurred.

   The entire episode was extremely debasing for the pretty teenager, and
shortly after that first time, Rachael began once again to entertain
thoughts of herself as being no more than a sex engine, a receptacle for
her step-brother's semen.

   Nigel seemed to have goodly reservoir of semen, that much was certain,
and he was extremely generous about sharing his bounty liberally with his
pretty step-sister.  Rachael swallowed copious quantities into her belly.
She took it into her vagina, and Nigel regularly insisted upon injecting a
contribution into her nethermost passage as well.  The opportunities for
love appeared endless, and Nigel was always in the mood.

   Any resistance on Rachael's part was met with the threat of her return
to that despised institute.  Her own mother even informed Rachael that she
would be sent back to "camp" if she didn't behave.  The older woman never
did figure out what the Training Center was all about, and Rachael knew
with cold certainty that she would comply with her step-son's wishes should
he decide to return her to that unholy mad house.

   Although Rachael thought she'd managed to deceive the company of sadists
and deviants who'd held her captive for so long, the residual effects of
their obscene program of libidinous brainwashing lingered in her
subconscious.  The strong willed teenager had eventually been able to
convince her captors that she was ready to cooperate by pretending to
comply willingly with their diabolical wishes, but her subsequent release
had not come without cost.  For more than two months, Rachael had undergone
a program of concise and comprehensive sexual conditioning, the effects of
which were profound in nature.  Rachael Elaine Monroe was a strong young
lady, but she had not come away from her experience at TYTC unscathed, and
although the symptoms of EFIRS were beginning to surface upon occasion, her
step-brother's seemingly insatiable appetite and unrelenting attentions
served to reinforce her prior training.

   Rachael's day began with sex, and whenever he could arrange it, Nigel
would treat her to brief carnal interludes during the course of the school
day.  School let out at three o'clock, and since Rachael lived only minutes
away, by no later than three forty-five each day she and her step-brother
would begin her extra-curricular activities.

   No sooner had the kitchen door closed behind them, Nigel took Rachael's
books from her, set them on the counter and began to unbutton her blouse.
She was naked in an instant.  For the next three hours or so, Nigel made
love to Rachael many times over, here and there around the house.  No place
was sacred.  He enjoyed having her on their parents bed which was quite
disturbing for Rachael, but that wasn't the worst of it.

   Rachael's step-father was a soft spoken, even tempered man, and unlike
his son, Nigel, there wasn't a wicked bone in his body.  Doug McKinsey
treated Rachael with kindness and respect, and as a result she felt a
genuine fondness for the man.  He loved her mother and provided stability
and security for their family.  Rachael would never dream of doing anything
to upset him.  Unfortunately when she expressed her concerns to her
step-brother, suggesting that should his father ever catch them at their
"games", he would be heart broken, Nigel reacted quite unexpectedly.

   As a result of her insubordination, each day just before her step-dad
was scheduled to arrive at home, Rachael would find herself standing in
front of the big kitchen window that looked out on the driveway.  Her feet
were spread widely apart, her hands gripped the edge of the stainless steel
kitchen sink, and Nigel hammered away enthusiastically at her from behind.
Wherever they happened to be in the house, at the prescribed hour Nigel
would stop and lead Rachael into the kitchen.  There he would resume his
attentions by entering her from behind while she stared anxiously out of
the kitchen window.  Any minute, Doug McKinsey would park his car in the
driveway, get out and start up the walkway toward the kitchen door.

   "N..Ni..Nigel," Rachael gasped breathlessly as her step-brother's thighs
slapped noisily against her shapely buttocks.  The familiar blue Chevy had
just pulled into the drive.  "N..Nigel, h..he's h..h..here.  N..N..Nigel."

   "Hush, Rachael!" her step-brother hissed.  His fingers dug into the
supple flesh of her hips, and his pace quickened.  "I'm almost there," he
added.

   Rachael was beside herself with anguish as the man she called "Dad"
strolled up the path.  All he had to do was look to his left just a little
bit, and he would see her standing there in the kitchen window.  There
would be no mistaking what was going on.

   "It's all in the timing," Nigel explained the rules of the game to her
with a grin.  Nigel would try to inseminate Rachael before her step-father
made it from his car to the kitchen door.  "To spice things up" as Nigel
put it, there was the added risk that Mr.  McKinsey would see them through
the window upon approach.  "If he catches us, no problem.  I'll just tell
him that you seduced me," Nigel informed his distraught step-sister. 
"He'll believe me, you know.  And you can bet your pretty little ass,
Rachael, that they'll ship you back to `camp' for sure." Rachael knew it
was true.

   "Huuuh...Hurry up, Nigel!" Rachael panted.  "Huu...He's alm..most huh
here."

   Her step-father was in fact so close now that Rachael could read the
headlines on the newspaper he carried.  She was close to panic when
suddenly Nigel gave an all too familiar groan.  He held her by her hips and
pressed the fronts of his hairy thighs tightly against the firmness of her
rear end.  She felt him pulse deep inside of her once...  twice...  three
times.  Shortly thereafter a strangely pleasing sensation of liquid heat
began to permeate Rachael's belly, then he was gone.  Rachael raced after
Nigel, disappearing into the hallway just as the kitchen door opened and
Doug McKinsey stepped into his home.  Fortunately he didn't see the small
drops of creamy fluid on the kitchen floor, leading off into the hallway
and eventually to his step-daughter's bedroom door.

   Rachael's evenings were much the same.  Nigel allowed her to bathe alone
most of the time, but not always.  Following her bath, she and her
step-brother would join the family for supper where conversation was
generally terse and reserved.  Once supper was over, Rachael would retire
to her room where she would soon be joined by Nigel to begin the evening's
activities.

   She tried her best to be quiet, but Rachael felt pretty sure that her
parents must have overheard the occasional thump or squeal.  Nigel was not
a gentle lover.  The nights were long for Rachael.  Often Nigel made love
to her until the wee hours of the morning before allowing her to rest. 
Many nights Rachael would slide into an exhausted oblivion even while Nigel
had his way with her.

   Unexpectedly, about a week ago, Nigel's demands upon her were
drastically reduced in both frequency and scope.  Rachael was stunned.  She
didn't know what to do with herself or what to expect.  Then one fateful
afternoon as she and Nigel returned home from school, they were waiting for
her.  The men might have been strangers to most, but for Rachael, the
clean, white coveralls they wore gave them away instantly.  The unmarked
van was parked one street over.  Rachael fought like a tiger, but her
struggles were all for naught.  She was quickly and efficiently subdued by
the two large men.  No words were exchanged as one of the men produced a
small, pneumatic vaccination gun.

   "Snick," and the lights went out.

   The next thing that Rachael knew, she was being partly led, party
carried into Class Room 109 by two very large men dressed in the dreaded
white coveralls of a TYTC Handler.  The surroundings were at once familiar
to Rachael, causing her to renew her struggles, cursing and kicking and
biting at anything that was inadvertently placed into harm's way.

   She was back, back in that most hideous of places.  Back in that asylum
filled with demented monsters who thought nothing of performing all manner
of loathsome and perverse acts upon her and the other unfortunate girls
whom they referred to as their "Guests".  In fact, even as she clashed with
her immediate captors, Rachael realized that they'd already put one of
those repulsive "things" into her back side.  Even now she felt the
telltale cramping and unnatural sense of fullness associated with the
unholy device.  There was a time, not to terribly long ago when this
feeling represented a sense of completeness for Rachael, and that time
would surely come again.

   "Let me go, you bastards!  Let me goooooo," Rachael shrieked again.  She
was so wrapped up in her attempts to free herself from the men who sought
to restrain and imprison her, that the unhappy teenager failed to take in
the full significance of her surroundings.

   "Be silent, Miss Monroe!" a commanding voice suddenly boomed from
nearby.

   Startled, Rachael looked in the direction of the voice.  Not only did
she fall instantly into a shocked silence, but she also momentarily ceased
her struggling.  Such was the power of the command voice once imprinted on
a subject's psyche.  Even though Rachael Monroe had graduated from the
Center many months earlier and was strongly suspected of suffering from
EFIRS, she responded none the less to the authoritative resonance of
Kevin's voice.  The brief cessation of her struggles allowed Rachael to
finally notice the group of twenty interested onlookers standing nearby,
and judging from their cold stares, she had a bad feeling that things were
about to get very ugly.  Fueled by a renewed sense of panic Rachael was
even more determined to escape.  So as the man whom she vaguely remembered
as being one of the "head fiends" moved closer, Rachael unexpectedly lashed
out with her right foot only narrowly missing the big man in white.

   "Fuck you!" she snarled viciously.  "Fuck all of you!" and once again
Rachael started to twist and struggle in the hands of the two men who held
her.

   Completely unruffled, Kevin turned to his class of eager young
Candidates and said, "Gentlemen, this is Miss Rachael Elaine Monroe.  Miss
Monroe, like many of the Guests that you will be working with in the days
and weeks to come returns to us as a result of our EFIRS Recall."

   Ignoring the proceedings going on around her, Rachael continued to
wrestle mightily with her tormentors.  "Let go of me!" she screamed at the
top of her lungs.

   Forced to raise his voice above the din, Kevin continued as best he
could.  "We believe that although Miss Monroe exhibits many of the positive
signs of having completed a successful program with us, her conditioning
may be less than adequate.  After reviewing her files, we see that in spite
of an admirable diet of amorous activities provided to her by her
step-brother, there is documented evidence that Miss Monroe continues to
offer passive resistance most of the time, and from time to time, outright
defiance.  For this reason, her step-brother was good enough to allow us to
bring Miss Monroe back into our fold and work with her for a few weeks to
see if we might be able to help her reorient herself." Kevin was suddenly
interrupted by a muted groan of male origin.  Turning quickly, he saw that
somehow the irate teenager had broken free from one of her attendants.  The
Handler was holding a hand over his right eye, and Kevin surmised that the
Monroe girl had managed to strike the unsuspecting young man.  This was, of
course, totally unacceptable behavior which required that swift corrective
measures be taken.

   Actually, if the truth be known, the incident was quite timely.  For the
better part of four hours, the group of approximately twenty young men who
were in attendance that morning in Class Room 109, had patiently observed
demonstrations and techniques which were rather provocative in nature. 
Although these dedicated young men were in training for a position with the
Center which would require tremendous self-discipline, they were, after
all, only human.

   "Alright Cliff, let's put her down.  Miss Monroe needs to be `CC'd', I
think," Kevin said succinctly.  "You OK, Scott?" the Handler/Instructor
asked of his fellow associate.

   "No problem, Kev," the big man in white answered good-naturedly.  Then
with lightning reflexes he recaptured the hysterical teenager's flailing
right arm.  The young girl howled a string of obscenities as the two big
Handlers forced her to the padded floor of the demonstration area at the
front of Class Room 109.

   Kevin's coolness and confidence were indeed enviable as he first
addressed his class before turning to help his colleagues prepare Rachael
for the next demonstration.  "I am sure you all know that striking a
Handler is unacceptable behavior," Kevin spoke in and even tone of voice.
The young men gathered around him nodded almost in unison.  "Although we
can understand why a Guest might choose such a course of action, we must
not allow such an overt exhibition of contempt and insubordination to go
unanswered." The two Handlers, Scott and Cliff had Rachael on her back on
the padded deck where she continued to fight and curse vigorously. 
"Silence, Miss Monroe!" one of the men ordered, but to no avail.  Rachael
Monroe was quite obviously dreadfully misaligned, and action, more so than
words, would be required.

   "We do not resent the fact that Miss Monroe has chosen to resist," Kevin
explained calmly as he reached behind his back to the specialized kit which
was standard issue to all Handlers at TYTC.  "To the contrary," he went on,
producing from it a thin, black rod about eighteen inches long and one half
inch in diameter.  "We welcome our Guest's refusal as a teaching
opportunity."

   With a swift flick of Kevin's wrist, the strong carbon fibre baton
telescoped out to a length of almost three feet.  Kevin fished two thin
loops of webbing from the ends of the black tubing as he continued with his
lecture.  "At TYTC uncooperative behavior on the part of a Guest is handled
in only one way." Kevin glanced over his shoulder at the attentive group of
young Candidates.  Then quoting a TYTC axiom, he said, "For every
challenge, there is a sexual solution." He received several nods.  "We
could simply use Miss Monroe's CAP to `nudge' her into re-thinking her
chosen path, but in this instance and more specifically, at this juncture
of her renewed training program, I feel that Corrective Copulation, or `CC'
is in order.  You might also hear the more colloquial term, `Carbon Copy'
used for this remedial technique, and the reason for this will become quite
clear in a moment." Kevin smiled at the curious expressions on the faces of
his trainees before turning back to the business at hand.

   Taking care not to get kicked, Kevin grabbed Rachael's left ankle in a
vice-like grip.  Then under extreme protest from the irate young woman, he
slipped the nylon loop at one end of his staff over her foot.  The webbing
tightened securely around the struggling girl's ankle almost instantly as
Kevin made a grab for her other leg.  Missing once, the Handler/Instructor
dodged a kick aimed at his head, grabbed the offending lower extremity, and
before Rachael knew what was happening the second loop was around her right
ankle.

   "Fuck youuuuuu!" she shrieked with a vehemence that was shocking to the
onlookers in the room.

   "I don't think so," Kevin responded to Rachael's rage with a wry
chuckle. "But some of these other gentlemen might very well be interested
in such an arrangement," he spoke matter-of-factly.  In one practiced move,
Kevin then extended the carbon fibre leg spreader to its full four foot
length and locked it into place with a twist of his hands on the thin
shaft.

   "Corrective Copulation, as you can see, tends to occupy a Guest's
attention for a longer period of time," Kevin explained as the second young
Candidate knelt between Rachael's widely spread legs and pushed himself
enthusiastically into the stunned teenager.

   While Rachael's second lover of the morning began to strike up a rhythm,
she was only vaguely aware that the "head fiend" continued to speak.  The
face of the young man atop her was a blur as Rachael's mind's eye turned
inward to the steadily pistoning maleness which with each stroke cycle
consumed a greater portion of her conscious thoughts.  As if from a great
distance the voice that Rachael had never really forgotten droned on.

   "Unlike CAP Correction, which is more immediate in nature, Corrective
Copulation when administered by a suitably large group of volunteers, will
hold a young lady's undivided attention for as long as the Group Leader
deems it appropriate.  The prolonged experience tends to make a more
lasting impression upon the Guest, and gives her ample time to consider
that perhaps uncooperative behavior is not the most rewarding course of
action she could choose.  At the same time, it offers her the opportunity
to achieve harmony and balance once she decides to do so."

   Kevin watched from nearby while a third young man took over.  The Monroe
girl was by now almost completely caught up in the experience.  From her
files he'd learned that her step-brother had kept the pretty teenager on an
oral maintenance dosage of Thelazine.  This in part was responsible for the
fact that in spite of the circumstances of her coupling, as her third lover
introduced himself to Rachael, Kevin saw her raise her knees ever so
slightly, aligning her vagina to better accept what the young man had to
offer.

   Kevin made a mental note that there was the distinct possibility that
the young girl was deriving a certain amount of excitement as a direct
result of the non-consensual nature of the occasion.

   Still, Corrective Copulation seemed the best approach for Rachael
Monroe. Mid-way through her fourth partnering the young woman was allowed
to climax, and it was noted that the resulting release of tension tended to
wash away a good portion of the negative emotional baggage associated with
way the relationship had begun.  If in the beginning, Rachael had indeed
experienced emotional free radical stimulation purely from the
non-consensual nature of the engagement, the release provided by multiple
climaxes helped to level the playing field.  So by the time her sixth lover
took over, Rachael Monroe had become an active and willing participant.

   A lot was learned that morning in Class Room 109 about the treatment of
Emotional Free Radical Stimulation Syndrome.  Proving once again that, "For
every challenge, there exists a sexual solution." With Rachael's help, a
hypothesis was formed, recognizing the benefits of multiple orgasms as a
possible method to treat the perplexing malady known as EFIRS.

   End...  SM a

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