I finished cleaning the men’s room sobbing in anguish. I started for the kitchen - my third assignment - with tears in my eyes and ran into Liz. She seemed sympathetic and took me into the office saying I looked upset and that she was planning to talk to me anyway. She pulled out a chair from behind the desk, sat on it, and invited me to kneel in front of her. I had intended to appear strong and negotiate with her; but, instead, I broke down sobbing that I was losing my self-respect.
“Last week I had the impression you might enjoy being my s*x slave,” she said, running her fingers through my damp hair. “You can still be a man, but you’ll belong to me.” She reached into my T-shirt opening, now twice its original size, and gently squeezed my n*****s with both hands. My body trembled with ex
