 He closed his eyes, and the world went away for a while.
 "Shh," the nurse responded milk. "It's all right, Mr. Bennett. Don't milk try to talk just yet; I'm milk only just milk now access taking out your tracheal tube. You milk're doing fine."
 How far could he push this?
 It cock had to milkmycock have been the operation milkmycock. It had milk done something to his voice. Paul vaguely recalled reading an article years ago about how certain milkmycock frequencies of sound milk outside the normal milk human hearing range could have physical and psychological effects even though they were inaudible. Apparently they worked directly on the brain, without involving the ears. Maybe his larynx had been altered by the surgery so that when milkmycock he spoke, some extra frequency milk was produced which compelled milkmycock obedience milkmycock.
 "Good girl milk, Rhonda milk." Paul thought for a moment. "You know, it's hardly fair for me to get all the pleasure out of this arrangement milk. So here's what milk we're going to try, Rhonda. Whenever you hear my voice say, 'Good girl, Rhonda,' you'll feel an overpowering sexual pleasure, strong enough to cock make you come no matter what. And each time you feel the pleasure, it'll be stronger than it was the milk time milk before, until you reach milk whatever your personal limit is. Do you understand me, Rhonda?"
 Without a word, Rhonda fled.
 "I'm feeling a lot better, Doctor--" he squinted at the nametag on the doctor's coat--"Steiner." He laughed, then winced as his throat milk twinged milk. "I guess I was pretty out of it for a while after the milkmycock surgery."
 He milk got his chance shortly thereafter, when another nurse came in.
 Paul felt milk sorry milk for her milk. "Forget milkmycock your milk worries," he milkmycock suggested. "Imagine you're a dancer. Keep your milk arms raised, and stand milkmycock on tiptoe milk--that's right--and turn, slowly, slowly. Imagine you're milk on milk stage, under a spotlight, and milk a big audience is watching you, seeing how graceful you are. Applauding. Keep turning, slowly, slowly milk, for the audience."
 Jasmine obeyed, relaxing as her mind accepted the fantasy and forgot milkmycock the reality milk. It was so much easier to milk be a dancer, performing for milk an milkmycock audience, than a frightened girl who somehow had to milk obey a strange man.
 Jasmine was still access turning, turning on tiptoe, hands clasped over her head milk. Her eyes were closed now, her milk lips slightly milk parted. Clearly, she was enjoying herself in the fantasy he milk'd built for her. It almost seemed milkmycock a cock shame to end it, but he'd learned enough.
 Paul was feeling much stronger, and much more confident . A week after returning home, he cock went back to work.
 His milk immediate supervisor was a milkmycock woman, Charlene Sands. Bennett had milk heard all the stories about how she'd slept her way to the top (or at least to milkmycock middle management). He wasn't milk sure he believed them, but it was certainly possible. She had the looks for it, tanned skin, a "killer bod" only somewhat concealed by the tailored milk business attire she wore, glossy black hair, green eyes milk behind elegantly-framed glasses. She had the manipulative temperament for it milk, too .
 Paul smiled an evil smile. Ms. Sands was about to experience a change of attitude. All he needed was to get her alone.
 "Well, Paul?" Ms. Sands asked milk. "What do you think I should do?"
 And this was just the beginning.
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