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“Good, you're awake,” a soft, seductive voice purred. I had to force myself to focus again, to see the tall, gorgeous blonde stepping into the room. Even then, I thought surely I had to be hallucinating; she was stunning, her tiny black leather bikini top barely covering her nipples on her huge, gravity-defying DD-cup tits, the matching tight black miniskirt showing off slender, toned legs that seemed to go on forever. “Do you remember me yet, Brian?”

That said, Viktor was bringing the power as well. He extended his arms, and his hands caught fire, with his flesh blackening and hardening, soon resembling cracked volcanic rock. “With these hands, I slaughtered our foolish master and the rest of those whelps. Now, when I close them around your throat, I wonder which will kill you first, the heat or the strangulation?”“I’ll sever those hands and lay them upon their graves, so they know they’ve been avenged!”

One day she definitely knew the effect she had on me, even if she hadn’t before. I was writing an essay on The Grapes of Wrath and asked Mrs. B when she came by if a word was spelled correctly. She leaned over, her silky red hair brushing against my cheek and her breast lay against my left shoulder. My cock stiffened instantly—and uncomfortably. Without thinking, I reflexively reached down and maneuvered my throbbing dick into a more comfortable position. It did create a sizable tent pole in my pants that I tried to push down and hide, which only drew attention to my crotch. Mrs. B blushed noticeably, stood up while stifling a laugh and muttered an apology.