”“Try me.”She looked at me for a moment, realizing I wasn’t going give up without a more thorough explanation and decided she needed to sit down before saying anything more.“I remember my first master taking me to his special room where all good slaves went to pleasure him. I think I was about six back then, not that I really know. He told me I was his greatest creation, the best of his long life’s work, and I would be the mother of an entirely new generation of servants and protectors.“I suppose he altered my young mind at that point to desire sexually pleasuring him above all else, and from that day on I was one of three girls who he oversaw every stage of our lessons and personally nurtured us as we grew. We loved him and even to this day I think of him as my father.“We were like princesses among the other girl slaves. They adored us while being a little jealous of us, and for my entire childhood, I never once doubted I would be anything else but one of his favorites.“I was nine. Don’t be like these people. Focus on the right questions. Be the peacock, beautiful and happy, not the inchworm, forever trying to find different ways to cut up and label reality.”Prof. Baker began to talk about historical fashion trends in France, and Catherine found herself enraptured. It seemed that even in this world, Prof. Baker brought her passion into her teaching. Catherine was happy that no matter how much the world changed, some things seemed to stay the same. Maybe some of the side effects of her wish weren’t really so bad?Catherine breezed through the rest of the day, and only had one slip up. During her Human Communication Theory class, she got a text from Chad a few minutes before class started and couldn’t pay attention the entire class. Instead she texted back and forth with Chad, thought about getting her nails done and wondered when this dumb class was going to be over. She only recovered an hour later when she saw one of the many phone reminders she had set up.
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