"Feel me inside your head," he said. "Listen to my voice and feel me inside of you." I listened and with my eyes closed; his voice was the only thing in my world now. My focus on it was sharp and complete as he told me what to feel and my body responded as if hands were touching me."Your nipples have grown so hard..." Calling my attention to them brought a rush of warmth into my breasts and I felt the tips turn rock-hard. When I looked down, I could see their outlines beneath my shirt."Harder and harder until they begin to ache" and with his words, the pain came. A burning, as if the skin was stretched hard. "The fabric of your shirt rubs over your nipples, teasing them... each movement, each breath you take is a sweet torment of stimulation." I moaned, feeling the areola crinkle tightly with a wonderful throb. This intense pleasure/pain brought a flood of moisture between my thighs.The first time he entered my mind, it was more clinical, in a way maybe just an exercise to show me he. "I thought ... I thought I was the only one. I didn't know ... I have not seen ... There's no-one, no-one..." There, there, Svetlana. You are safe, now. We have food. Perhaps you're hungry? Shall we go to the cafeteria and have some lunch? It looks like you could do with a good meal and a little pick-me-up." Rostrimov looked at his boss askance and remembered the bottle of rum from the administrators office. No doubt Mischa had slipped it into his pocket. Rostrimov remembered with a grin the stories he had told back on the Petrovska of the petty thieving that went on during the war. He felt the cigar in his breast pocket and grinned again. He felt fortunate that it was Captain Yefremov who had been the only other survivor from the crew of the patrol ship.Svetlana led them to the staff cafeteria - a room of industrial proportions. There would be upwards of sixty tables, each carefully positioned with four steel framed chairs. The wooden varnished floor was scrubbed so clean you could.
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