The Teacher

The Teacher

Shawn Martin

Copyright © 2018 Shawn Martin

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2018

ISBN 978-1-64462-542-2 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781645449645 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-64462-544-6 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

To my son Christopher, thank you for you love and support, son. I can’t thank you enough. Love you, kiddo.

To my family whose love and support helped keep me going.

To Nikki, thank you for reading the early version of the story and your feedback and telling me that you wanted to read more of it.

To Sheila, thank you for your help in helping me get my English in line.

To Justin, or as I know him, Radio, thank you, my friend for listening to me go on about the story. I’m sure you heard some of it a thousand times. Thanks for your feedback and for finding the story intriguing and your excitement in wanting to read to finished story. Your continued support as I go on means the world to me.

To my dear friend Tasha, whose love, prayers, and support kept me going, you are the one who kept giving that nudge to keep going when things got tough. You’re the ray of light breaking through the darkness. All my love and prayers to you, my dear friend.

Finally, to the team at Page Publishing whose hard work made this all possible. I can’t thank you enough for the chance for a small-town guy to realize a dream and emerge into a wide new world.

I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

You all have my love and my thanks!

Preface

First, I would like to thank you, the reader of this book. It means so much to me that you have chosen this book to read. I thank you all for that choice. Second, yes, the first line of this book says what you thought it said. If it shocked or horrified you, imagine what I thought when that line first came across my mind about four years ago. That line has haunted me since and became the driving for me to write this book.

Through my life, I’ve been lucky enough to have experienced a lot. From my time in the Army as an airborne rigger to the factory where I work now. They have all served me in that they showed me another piece of a whole wide world. Having grown up in a small town that serves as the backdrop for this book, I always knew that I had the love, protection, and support of my family and friends. The Army opened a whole new chapter. I remember the hard work, discipline, and the friends of basic training—standing in the door of a C-130 Hercules on my first jump, not feeling any fear on that jump until I hit the ground, looking up at the plane flying off and wondering, Just what did I just do? From then on, there were always butterflies in the stomach. Biggest thing I learned while serving was how to be adept for changes and how to follow your instincts and your gut at times. Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith. That is what this book is to me, a leap of faith.

As I think back to that fateful night, as I x-rayed a part, it’s still hard to believe that a random thought like that out of the blue led to what you hold in your hand now. At first, I asked myself, Just where did that thought come from? I put it out of my mind, focusing on what I was doing at the time, seemingly forgotten after that until it came up again. Maybe a couple of times a month, it grew over the years from just the line to a dialogue in my head. It started to go with it. I pondered what to do with it. I mean, I’ve read my share of books in my life. I’m an avid reader still today. But what did I know about writing a book? Not much. I hesitated because of that notion until I decided to take that leap of faith. With the words from my dad to go for it, I decided then that I would give it my best shot. That shot is before you now.

Writing the book itself, I drew on many things from my life, one being a connection to supernatural. From the first encounter with a TV that would turn itself on every morning at 3:00 a.m. when I was eight to the haunted houses I lived in and having to become a ghost hunter myself to deal with the entities there. The places I’ve been, things I’ve seen and experienced, and the people I’ve met along the way. It all has a place in my vivid imagination and for this story. It was the only way I knew to approach trying to write this story; I hoped it would work out for the best. As I wrote this, I quickly gained a new appreciation for authors and the work they do to write their stories—from the ebb and flow of what your characters are doing to the action sequences and trying to keep it all in flow to the frustration of reading back what you’ve written and finding it lacking. You stop writing and ponder where it went astray then try to fix it. There are times when you just have to walk away from it for a while and let your mind wander until you come to a solution, hoping that it does come to you and then continue. The drive to continue writing became a passion. I’d find my mind wandering in quiet times. Characters dialogue would run through my head, leading to new ideas and directions the story could take inside itself. I would think of how to develop a random thought and whether it could work in the story. The back and forth of the new and old. I would sometimes go back and add or take out what I’ve already done. While frustrating at times, I feel that it was all worth it in the end.

Finding the time to write this story sometimes was a challenge. I would spend a lot of my days off work just writing. Mostly with our schedule at work, it came down to getting a few hours a day to work on it. Another frustrating part is, you get on a roll and look at the clock and realize you have to stop for the night and get ready for work. My mind would chew on where to drive the storyline as I worked. Then I would wish I could be home to put those thoughts down. One major thing that also played into writing this book was patience! I’ve always been a fairly patient person that got fine-tuned sitting in traffic jams when I was driving a big rig. As new ideas would unfold as the story developed, there would be times when you would have to backtrack, add a little or take a little, then read through it again. I worked hard to try to maintain the flow of the story. At times, I would stop writing just to read everything I’d written to that point to see how the flow was going. Meanwhile, ideas would run through the head, wanting to go in. Patience and discipline were key at these points. Ideas would get jotted down while I took the time to read the work so far. Then based on how it read to me, the ideas would get evaluated. Some made it; some didn’t. Just part of the process of the whole.

To the story itself, before I started writing it properly, I spent a lot of time running it through my head. How can I separate this book from another haunted-house story? I hit one idea. What if you not only got the perspective of the people being haunted but also the perspective of the ghost doing the haunting? I wondered, After she’s killed and trained in the story, how do I keep our hero in the story? After setting up the character, I didn’t just want her to disappear into the woodwork. I felt it would be too easy to just go into the events of what Sara was doing without any explanation of why she’s doing what she’s doing in the house. You could write it off as simple revenge for her murder, but it’s not that simple. Sara does have a reason for everything she does in the story—the interactions of the characters with Sara and Sara’s take on them and her mission. I try to show all sides of those interactions so a full picture can be drawn by you, the reader. While Sara is the hero of the story, some of you might disagree with some of the things she does as she tries to accomplish her mission. My hope is that by the end of the story, you will see her as the hero I try to portray her as.

As for the ghost hunting in the story, as stated earlier in this preface, it is based on my own experiences with the spirit world. Ever since my first encounter with the TV, which I finally got to see it turn itself off on morning, I’ve always been fascinated with ghosts and other elements of the supernatural. However, it was the night after my grandpa’s funeral that I really got an idea of the forms these spirits could take. I was woken up that night after the funeral to see a white full figure standing at the end of my bed. I was scared at first until I saw who it was. It was my grandpa coming to say goodbye to me. I talked to him for a while. I told him how much I missed him and how much I loved him, how I wished I could hug him one last time. While he didn’t speak back to me that night, he smiled at me and nodded, so I knew he understood what I was saying. With that last wave goodbye, he disappeared. While I haven’t seen him since that night long ago, I still feel his presence from time to time.

While serving at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, I lived at one time off base. A spirit came into that house and started raising havoc. I’d had experiences, but nothing like what started to happen in that house. So I gave myself a crash course in ghost hunting to deal with that spirit. I read everything I could get my hands on. Learning things to do, things not to do, and different things I could do to try to help. Finally, I did a smudging of the house myself. Wafting the sage smoke all through the house, covering all nooks and crannies, and saying prayers as we went, I was able to rid that house of the spirit only to have it follow us to work. There were sightings of the spirit and knocks, and it even ran on the top of the bus we were sitting in one night, talking. Things came to a head one night when the spirit tried to electrocute us in a battery shop. Standing just outside of the water that poured across the floor and watching a panel box shut off switch turn itself on by itself and throw the alligator clamps into that water showed me the power that some spirits can possess. Everything I’d read and heard to that point in my life had always told me that a ghost can’t really hurt you. It can scare you but can’t do anything to harm you or kill you. That showed me that the experts didn’t know everything about ghosts. That changed my approach to how ghosts could work in the real world and how I would approach them in the future. I still studied what I could find and filtered that with what I’d experienced and tried to find the balance of the two. There have been many interactions over the years. Some were benign; some more intense.

The trailer I lived in Pennsylvania put a lot of things together for me. In that place, we had two children and a man. At times, you could also get a whiff of perfume that you could follow through the trailer when there was no one who wore perfume in that house. Over time though, we would get lights turning on and off; things moved from where they were just a few minutes before. We even had audio recordings of the voices and my golf clubs being played with in the bag when no one was home. Lastly, getting the children on video. There was a conversation with the children one night as they came out into the living room to talk to my son. All these experiences helped me shape just what Sara can do in this story and hopefully stories to come later. From the knocks to the panel box flipping on, it plays on idea of just how far you take what a spirit can do. I’ll let you, the reader, draw a conclusion on what I’ve experienced. Some will believe; some won’t.

As Sara does her mission, it causes Paul and Leah, the couple in the house, to seek help and become their own ghost hunters themselves. With the guidance of a friend, they try to deal with Sara and find out what she wants so they can have their house back. Meanwhile, Sara has her own agenda. She wants to leave the house but not until she can find out who killed her and deal with that person so that they can’t do to someone else what happened to her. Sara is prepared to do whatever she needs to, to stop that person. Our couple is willing to do anything possible to get her out of the house and get back to normal lives again. While neither asked for this to happen, both will clash in their respective missions.

This story has a truly dark side. I knew from the time the opening line came to me that it would take me to a place in my mind that was darker than I’d ever been to. I’m sure that the people that know me, when they read this, will question me on just where that darkness came from. The short answer to that is, I’m not sure where it came from. I know that as the story developed, the opening sequence, as brutal as it is, was necessary to set up the rest of the story. My hope is that by the end, the darkness gives way to a sense of light, hope, and redemption for our characters. I believe that I was able to convey that at the end of the story. I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions on that point. The first part of the book will no doubt shock and horrify some people. I hoped, in the writing of this book, to be able to horrify the reader and intrigue them as well. I’ve tried to put elements in that you don’t necessarily see in other books—how this battle of wills plays out through the story, the steps taken on both sides, the moves and countermoves of the people involved, and how they work out for each side.

Over time, I’ve watched and read interviews of writers. One line always seemed to come out: Write about what you know. So in the writing of this book, I tried to write about what I knew. The story is set with my hometown and the surrounding area as a backdrop. I grew up in this small town and knew it well. While places like the diner Bum’s Dell are fictional, they fit nicely into my picture of the town for the story. The ghost hunting is based on my own experiences from the ghost hunting I’ve done, taking in what I’ve researched and seen over time and how I used what I learned and putting that into story. While I’m no professional ghost hunter, I’ve tried to convey a sense of what a ghost hunt is like based on my experiences of the hunts I’ve been part of or carried out on my own.

As I write this, I find it to be maybe a bit harder that writing the book itself. While writing the book, I could lose myself in the world of the teacher and Sara. Now, I have thought about what I have written and what to put in about myself as well. I try to think about what you, the reader, want to know about me and the book that you hold now. It also sparks memories of things I did to get ready to write it, questions asked to me while writing it. My mom asked me one day, How do you know what the characters would say? I had a nice laugh over that question, then told her it all came out of my head. The dialogue of the characters ran through my head, driving my fingers on the keyboard to keep up with them. At the start of this, I wondered, Can I do this? This is a far-flung dream from childhood that someday I could write a book. I remember back when I was in school, I used to write some short stories, more like kid’s musings than anything else, and wondered. Back then I was told by my friends that those little stories were pretty good. But as you grow up, dreams and aspirations change based on what grabs your attention. When I was twelve, after watching a special on TV about airborne paratroopers, I decided that I wanted to go into the Army someday and maybe jump out of a plane like I’d seen them do on the special. I realized that dream when I graduated high school. After I got out, new dreams emerged. I had ideas for other stories over the years that I had written parts of those stories, but they seemed to fizz out over time, and I put them aside. I realized some of my dreams; some not. Then came the fateful day one random thought came to my head. It’s constant reminder over time that it was still there. It wanted out of my head and on to paper for the world to see. It still amazes me what came out from just one line running through my mind.

I pondered and wondered as I wrote this. The long-ago dream was coming back. What would it be like to finish the book? Just imagine if I could get it published. Where does it go after that? I have the answer to two of those questions now. The third, still to be seen. July 4, 2018, I finished the book. That dream was realized. I was very happy that I’d finished it, if you can ever call it finished. Still to this day, random thoughts comes to me, and I wish I’d thought of that line as it would’ve been a good thing to put in. Overall, I’m very proud of what I’ve written here. First step done at that point, I took the next dream under my wing. Can I get it published? The answer to that question came on July 18, 2018. That was the day I got the call saying that it would indeed get published. I remember the feeling of excitement of that day. There wasn’t a lot of sleep on that day; I was too excited! Then as that sank into my mind over the next few days came the nerves. Thoughts of what’s next constantly ran through my mind. Possibilities of things like book signings, interviews, maybe someday to have it picked up for a movie or something were all still in the realm of happening but at the time still part of the dream. I had two more ideas for books while I was still writing this one. I’m presently working on these books and hope to soon have them done. One of them is a follow-up to this book. When I first heard that I am now a published author, I was totally floored. It still amazes me to hear that from my friends when they say it.

The writing of a book, I’ve found, isn’t a solo venture. Without support from family and friends, this would’ve been a thousand times harder—from the day I told my dad that I had an idea and was thinking of trying to write a book (his response was go for it) to the day I finished it. I thank my son, whose encouragement, love, and patience while listening to me go on about the story as I wrote it. Thanks to my friends that let me bounce my ideas for the book off them, gauging their response to what I was talking about. I knew that I had their love and support. Without them, this may have never gotten done. People come up, telling me about the book and asking me what it was about. They’re telling me how intrigued they were with the premise of the book, whether it was their style of book or not, and how they would like to read it. All these factors drove and motivated me further, not only to try to realize the dream but do a story worthy for all to see and enjoy. I believe that I have managed to do that. I can’t thank the people that have helped me to realize this day enough. They have my undying respect, love, and gratitude.

I hope that this has given some insight into me and my thoughts for this story. I thank you for listening to me. Now, ladies and gentlemen, with no further ado, I give you The Teacher! May you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter 1

Noooo! Get that dog out of my ass! Sara screamed. Please, please, get him out. He’s tearing me apart! Too big, he’s too big. Please, he’s killing me. Sara had awakened into a nightmare. She’d thought the pushing she’d felt behind her was a bad dream. Her eyes were wide in terror. She tried to buck the dog off and found she was strapped down, unable to move. She looked over her shoulder at the dog. She could see that she was strapped to a table of some sorts. It was tilted up, folded at the knees. Her arms were above her head. Hands wrapped, white knuckle, on handles. The dog had his paws on her back. Sara could feel the claws digging into her back, leaving bloody scratches on her. Sara thought, I’m strapped down? How did I get here? What the fuck is going on? I can’t get away from this damn dog. Sara thrashed her body, trying again to get away.

I don’t think so, bitch. Take your lesson and learn from it. Learn well from it, a voice cooed at her. Sara tried to find the voice that was talking to her but couldn’t. Thrashing as best she could, she couldn’t shake the dog off.

Get the fuck off me, you damn mutt! Sara screamed at the dog. Stop it and get off me. Nothing she said seemed to dissuade the dog. The more she pleaded and twisted her body, the deeper she could feel him going inside her. Her anus was already stretched to a ripping point. She could feel it tearing; blood was starting to trickle from her anus. She was helping him go deeper inside with each twist of her body. Another thrust, the dog went deeper still. Pain flared through her body. She gritted her teeth and put her head down in the hole in the table. She forced herself to lie still. Hoping that would stall him. The dog seemed to take this a sign and started to pump faster. Plunging deeper and deeper into her. She felt her rectum tear further. Blood was starting to stream out of her ruined ass. Sara lifted her head and tried to scream. Only a low moan came out of her mouth.

If you think it’s bad now, the voice cooed at Sara, just wait until the knot goes in, bitch. Then you’ll know pain. The voice laughed and commanded the dog. Faster, boy, go faster for Mommy. The dog started to pump faster. Sara sucked in a sharp intake of air at the new assault on her body. She pulled at the restraints, trying to work them free. She had to get away from this fucking dog and get out of here. Tears were streaming down Sara’s face, tears from the pain, and the humiliation was almost unbearable. With another thrust, the knot entered her. Flashes of light pulsed in front of Sara’s eyes. The pain was unbearable. Sara managed a deep breath and found her voice through a feat of sheer will and screamed. She could feel the blood flowing freely now.

Oh god, fuck! Sara screamed. Oh my god no, it’s too much! Please get him off me! He’s going to kill me. Buried inside her, the dog kept pushing, trying to go deeper. Sara drew in a breath through her gritted teeth and threw her head back Nooooo! she screamed. The voice laughed at her again as her head fell forward onto the table. Unable to take the pain any longer, she succumbed to the darkness.

See you soon, bitch, the voice cooed again. Bye for now. Still feeling the dog pushing away at her, Sara quickly fell into unconsciousness, and as the darkness fully swallowed her, it was the last thing she heard.

Chapter 2

Sara came to slowly, lying still for a moment, trying to ascertain her state. The dog was gone. She thought, Thank God for that small miracle. She lay there and listened, realizing that she was alone for the moment. Sara raised her head and gave it a little shake. Her head felt like a freight train was running through it. She cracked her eyes; the light stabbed knives into them, causing her head to hurt worse. She put her head back down and tried to move again. Her hands and feet were still strapped tight. Sara thought, I’m still strapped down. I was hoping it was all just a bad dream. Okay, get it together, girl. Get your eyes open and see if you can find a way out of this mess. With her head back in the hole in the table, her eyes cracked open again. The light wasn’t as bad this time. Blinking her eyes a few times, she was then able to see more clearly. Sara tried lifting her head again. Her ass was killing her, and she looked over her shoulder. The movement caused a flash of pain, but Sara bit down on her lip, needing to see it. Her lower back was clawed all over and hurting. The blood was still drying from the scratches. Looking past her back, she tried to get a look at her butt. Her hips also had scratches from the dog. I probably caused that from where I was trying to shake him off, she thought. She could see some blood back there but was unable to see exactly if it was from the scratches or the rape. Sara sighed and laid her head back down, nodding to herself and drawing in a deep breath. It was time to get a look at where she was and try to form a plan to get away.

Sara lifted her head and looked around. She was in a basement, a finished basement at that. There was a faint smell that she couldn’t place. It must not be waterproofed very well, Sara thought. A small laugh escaped her. I’ve been raped by a damn dog, and I’m worried about whether or not this fucking basement is waterproofed. Silly bitch, get it together, she said to herself.

Continuing to look around, she saw the basement had no windows. The only light was from the overhead can lights. It looked like a man cave to her. Off to her left were pictures of sports teams and players on the wall. The pictures wrapped from the stairs all the way around to her front. In front of her was a pinball machine. It was turned off right now. Looking to her right, she saw a huge TV. Sara could also see a Blu-Ray player and a few game consoles. It looked like a home theater system there as well. Facing the TV was a brown leather sofa. It was flanked by two brown leather recliners. They sat around a low coffee table. Remotes and game controllers sat on the table, just ready to be picked up and used. The floor she saw was split into two parts. Where she was, the floor was inlaid marble. Over by the TV, the floor was covered in a red low-pile carpet. The tile, Sara saw when she placed her head back in the hole. What she saw were three logos etched into the marble. One was an Army logo; the other two had something to do with wings around a parachute. She looked at them for a second longer. One set jumped out at her. They’re Jump Wings! she said to herself. She’d watched a movie once where the main characters were jumping out of a plane on a mission. They’d had these wings on their uniforms in the movie. The other set was smaller than the Jump Wings. They had a parachute and wings coming off in a similar, but slightly different setup. Embossed in the chute was the word rigger. What the fuck is a rigger? Sara said. Lifting her head and shaking it, she continued to look around. Back behind her was the only way out. There was a lone set of stairs that headed up. The only way out is up those stairs. I’ve no idea what’s up there, how many people have me, or anything else. This isn’t going to be easy, she thought to herself.

Now she decided to get a better look at the table she was strapped to. She tried working her hands loose again. The straps didn’t budge. Sara looked around. The hole where her face went reminded her of a massage table. The whole table was done in a dark walnut stain and varnished to a high gloss shine. The whole table was covered in padded black leather. The table was actually quite comfortable too, Sara thought. Might even be fun under the right circumstances. She let a small laugh escape her. The laugh caused her body to move. Pain flashed through her again. Sara drew in a sharp intake of breath. Yep, I deserved that one. Get it together, girl. You need to try to find a way out of this mess, she said to herself.

Sara laid her head back down again. Her head was starting to ease up some now. The drug they used on me must be wearing off fully now, Sara thought and started to assess her condition. She had seen the scratches and blood on her back and hips. She could still feel a little blood trickling out of her ass. At least she hoped it was blood. Sara shuddered at the thought of what was probably coming out of her ruined ass. Probably a mix of blood and doggie spunk. Yuck! Sara thought to herself. Lifting her head, she tried to look at her butt again. The movement caused a new flash of pain. Not there yet, she said and turned her head back to the front and laid it back down in the hole. Wait a minute, Sara said to herself. She thought she’d seen a shape over by the couch. She looked back over toward the couch. She saw nothing there. Sara thought, My mind must be playing tricks on me. A dark shape by the couch. I should Gibbs-slap myself. There’s no such thing as a ghost, girl. Turning her attention back to the table, she could feel her breasts in two more holes cut into the table. She knew that the table could move. She was tilted up earlier for the dog. She was laid flat now. When it was up, the legs had been spread and bent at the knees, holding her in place. Her arms had been above her head. They were at her sides now. The handle she had held on to while up was recessed into its hole now. Sara thought, I wonder what all this table does. Someone put a lot of work into this for some reason.

She looked back to the straps and tried to work them loose again. She could feel the straps cutting into her wrists. They felt wet now. She could see blood as she worked her hands. A few minutes later, she stopped. The straps wouldn’t come loose, and her wrists were killing her. Sara laid her head back down. Running through her thoughts, trying to put a plan together, she heard the basement door open. Sara shut her eyes and lay still.

Chapter 3

Still out, I see, Sara heard the voice say. Looks like Joey really worked you over good, you little bitch. Sara felt a hand on her back, rubbing the scratches. The hand opened her cheeks up to look at her ass. Sara bit her lip but stayed quiet and still. He got a little aggressive with you. Your ass is a total wreck. Sara felt the hand let her cheeks go back together and pat her on the ass. Still playing possum, Sara moved her eyes, trying to get a glimpse as to who was with her. She heard a bucket set down on the floor. A mop plopped on the floor. Sara could see the mop moving back and forth, cleaning up the blood and dog juice. Sara suppressed a shudder, just thinking that had been inside her wanted to make her break down and cry. The voice started humming to themselves as they cleaned up the floor. She was sure the voice was female but still hadn’t seen the person yet. It was the voice she heard earlier.

The humming stopped after a bit, and the mop and bucket went away. Sara’s eyes darted around in their sockets, trying to pick up anything of the person cleaning up. She heard light footsteps making their way toward the corner. Sara rolled her head just a little to the right and saw a woman disappear around the corner. The woman was walking to the far corner of the room. Her back was turned toward Sara. She was carrying the bucket in one hand and the mop in the other. She looked like she was about five-five. Her hair was up in a ponytail; it was blond. She was wearing a black sports bra and a pair of red short shorts. She disappeared around the corner. The water was turned on. Sara could hear the water being dumped. Sara thought, Must be a bathroom or cleaning closet over there. Who is this woman? What did I do, or what does she think I did to her? Hearing the water turn off, she rolled her head back into place. The light footsteps came walking back toward her. Sara could feel the woman’s eyes on her, staring at her.

A warm washcloth slapped down on Sara’s ass. Causing a new wave of pain, Sara popped up. She drew in a sharp breath against the pain. Thought you were playing possum on me. The woman laughed. The woman brushed Sara’s hair out of the way and scrubbed her back. The soap burned in the cuts. Sara bit her lip and bounced her head off the padding of the hole for her face. The woman moved to her ass. Spreading the cheeks, she scrubbed hard at the torn rectum.

Ah fuck, that hurts, you bitch! Sara rose and hollered at the woman. The woman smiled and scrubbed harder. Motherfucker! Not so fucking hard, please.

Almost done, the woman said. She stopped scrubbing on Sara’s ass and rewet the washcloth. Wringing it out, she placed it on Sara’s leg. She pushed Sara’s legs apart and cleaned up the blood on them. Finishing the first leg, the woman came around the table and cleaned the other leg up. She pushed Sara’s legs back together. Hold on, dear, the woman said.

Hold on to what? Sara asked the woman. She smiled at Sara and reached under the table. The woman pushed a hidden button and a release clicked. The woman rotated the table up. Sara yelped in surprise. As the table came up, her arms shifted back up to a position over her head. Her legs spread out and once again, bent at the knees. The handholds popped up out of their recessed holes. She grabbed them and held on tight. Once the table was straight up, the woman pushed a button, and the table locked in place. What the fuck kind of table is this? Sara asked the woman.

This is my breeding table, the woman said. The woman stood in front of Sara now. The woman was wearing, what looked like a masquerade mask over her face. It was red; it covered her face from the forehead to the tip of her nose. Sara could see the piercing green eyes lock with hers. She now took in the rest of the woman. The woman was probably very pretty. The mask prevented Sara from seeing for sure. Based on her body (no wrinkles anywhere she could see), Sara guessed she was probably in her early twenties. The sports bra and short shorts left her stomach exposed. Sara could see that she was very toned. She thought, With a six-pack like that, this woman works out a lot. Maybe that’ll help me figure out just who the hell she is. Sara looked down the woman’s body. Her legs were toned as well—not over muscular but very toned. It gave this woman a stunning set of shapely legs. The legs ended in a pair of manicured feet. Sara stored all this away. She’d try to figure it out later. Right now, she needed a way to get the fuck out of this mess and up those stairs.

Nice abs, Sara said to the woman sarcastically.

Thanks, the woman said. The rest of me isn’t bad either. I spend a lot of time working on them, and my legs, what do you think? The woman struck a pose. The pose really showed off the abs and her legs. Holding the pose for a minute, she dropped her arm and laughed. Sarcastically as you put it, I couldn’t resist. The woman clapped her hands and gave Sara a slight bow. Glad to see you aren’t a complete pussy. I like a little fire and a challenge. Sara narrowed her eyes at the woman and thought, Do I know this woman? Did I go to school with her? Do I know her from the gym or from work? Think goddammit, think. Sara scanned her body for an identifying mark on her exposed body. However, she could see nothing visible. No tattoos or birthmark were showing up on the front of her body. Maybe there’s something on her back or ass, Sara thought to herself.

Who the fuck are you? What did I ever do to you to deserve having your fucking mutt rape me? Sara asked the woman. The woman smiled and threw her head back and laughed.

All in due time, the woman said to Sara. Now my little redheaded bitch, let’s finish cleaning you up for your next lesson, shall we? The woman moved to the now front of the breeding table. Pushing another button, the bottom of the table opened up, exposing Sara’s torso down to her vagina.

What lessons? Just what do you think it is that I did to you? Sara asked the woman.

All in due time, the woman told Sara again. All will be explained to you as the lessons progress. However, rest assured that you did try to steal something very important from me. I will teach you a very important lesson.

And that is? What, bitch? Sara snapped back at the woman.

You don’t fucking try to steal from me you, motherfucking cunt! the woman screamed at Sara. The woman backed up a few steps and drew in a couple of deep breaths. She was trying to calm herself back down. Working her hands up and down, in time with her breathing in and out, she got herself under control. Walking back up to the table, she stared at Sara. Now then, let’s finish up here, shall we? I’m here to teach your lessons. From here on out, you will address me as Teacher.

Teacher? Sara said, rolling her eyes. You really expect me to call you Teacher?

Either that, the woman said as a sly smile came across her face, or I could get Joey back down here. You can take your pick.

Okay, okay, Sara said. Teacher it is. I don’t think I could take another session with the damn dog. Teacher smiled and laughed at her.

Yes, Joey is a special dog, Teacher said. He loves his mommy in more ways than one. However, unlike you, I’m used to him. Sara got a mental picture of what the Teacher was saying. An image of the Teacher and Joey having sex together ran through her mind. It revolted her.

Yuck, that’s disgusting, if you’re serious about that, Sara said. The Teacher walked back up to the table with the washcloth in hand. She reached out a finger and traced a line down between Sara’s breasts and continued down her stomach.

Nice tits, the Teacher said. What are you, about a 34C? Sara looked at the Teacher and rolled her eyes but said nothing. You’re very toned yourself. You’re a very beautiful woman. The Teacher reached out and continued cleaning up Sara. After she had finished up with the front of her body, the Teacher started to close the doors, taking care to place Sara’s breasts back in the holes cut out for them.

Why the hell are you giving me a sponge bath anyway? Sara asked. The Teacher shot her a look. Sara rolled her eyes. Teacher. The Teacher smiled at that.

Joey was just the first lesson, the Teacher said. I want you all nice and clean for the next lesson. She latched the doors closed and pushed the button, unlocking the table, and laid it flat. The Teacher gathered up her things. Maybe I’ll show you some more of what the breeding table can do later. See you soon. The Teacher waved at her and headed for the stairs. Sara heard the light footsteps going up the stairs, and the door shut, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Sara closed her eyes and thought, Now that my head feels better, I need to try to put this all together. Try to figure out what the hell happened. Maybe, just maybe, figure a way out of here. Do I know her from somewhere? What is the last thing I can remember clearly? Let’s see what we can put back together.

Chapter 4

Sara laid her head back down and closed her eyes. She drew in a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. She retreated into her thoughts: This still made no sense to her. Two and two were three right now. There’s got to be something. If I can just find it. Sara’s body started to relax. Drawing in a deep breath, she thought, How long have I been here? Are they looking for me yet? I’ll worry about that later. First things first, Sara. Okay, now to the beginning of what I remember. She closed her eyes and sank into her thoughts.

The last day she could remember started normally enough. She had woken up at 6:00 a.m. She showered and ate a light breakfast—toast, coffee, and yogurt. Then she grabbed her bag and headed for the gym to work out. She joined the 7:30 a.m. yoga class. Once she had finished with the class, she decided to go hit