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’ We moved further into the building no smell, and no sound other than the barely-there hum of cameras and the clicking of foot-falls ‘Carn.’ she pointed me to the security desk, I nodded without a word and walked up to woman behind the desk. ‘Name, rank, and program?’ She eyed me up and down waiting for an answer, thinking that tidy black uniform intimidated me. ‘Carn, rank Alpha, product of the IOA-2 training program.’ Every slave in the military was a product of corporate facility every single one! Methods change from place to place some brutal others subtle ALL designed to turn out a different type of soldier or slave by ripping away the IDEA of freedom. The kids that break don’t go to waste…experiments…shock troops. The mere mention of it brought back the memory of the gunshot……then there were the shock treatments and solitary confinement… stories for another time maybe. ‘Okay Slave, step into the next room, the agent inside will instruct you further.’ They went ahead and showed. Her voice gave me the signal that I needed. So I just pulled her closed to me and I started kissing her neck.Umm… She smelt quite nice. And she didn’t try to stop me just said- Ki korchen? Emon koren na pls.(What are you doing? Please don’t do like this.)But from her voice I got to know that she wants that too. I made her stand because we were sitting on the sofa. I then removed her pallu and started to kiss her cleavage. It was soft like a sponge. She by that time had grabbed my hair and pressing me more to her boobs.So I just removed her jacket (Blouse) and started kissing her boobs and biting her nipples over the bra. She was moaning like hel. So to stop her moan I started to smooch her hardly and she was responding nicely. Actually I like hard sex so I was very happy by her response.Then I told her to be silent as our neighbor may listen. Then I moved her and cupped her boobs from behind while kissing her neck. Then I unhooked her bra and her boobs just started pressing them.
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Unfortunately, there would have to remove her left breast. Six months after the mastectomy and radiotherapy, she returned home to her husband. A year later her husband Stan, ﬁled for divorce and left with a lady down the road. Each time she looked in a mirror, she saw a mutilated lonely forty-year with no future. Over the next four years she fell into a deep depression, and began to cover all the mirrors and shiny surfaces in the house. When she went outside she would wear larger and baggier clothes to hide her body from the people around her. She had had the medical cabernet in her bathroom stocked with razor blades and sleeping tables, for when she could summon up the courage to kill herself. Five years after the divorce, while she was shopping, she heard a male voice calling ‘Suzanne is that you?’ She turned to face a man in his mid thirty. ‘Suzanne that IS you. How are you?’ ‘Oh, okay I guess,’ Sue lied, confused as to who this person was. ‘You don’t remember me, do you?.

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