Schmidt and the guards. I awkwardly tried to hide my genitals with my hands, shaking and whimpering. I could see that the guards were all hard, their uniform pants bulged at the crotch, erections straining against the fabric to be freed. Dr. Schmidt smiled at me then turned the guards. "Now bind him to the chair." He commanded. One of the guards grabbed me from the armpits and the other grabbed each ankle hoisting me onto the chair. My struggles were now mere movements which took little effort on their part to counter. They fastened my wrists and arms to the arms of the chair and forced my legs and ankles wide apart and tightened them to the leg-holders with thick leather straps. Another strap was stretched across my chest, then they stretched another leather strap holding down my waist just below my navel. The guards did the same just below my knees firmly locking my legs down to prevent any kind of movement.The doctor stepped closer with an injection-gun in his hand. He shot some. ” Each morning they would make love, snatch coffee and a light breakfast, and leave for school together, he to his office, and she to whichever class or study group she’d joined. They would always meet for lunch to continue the pattern they had established in the early days of their relationship. He would regale her with tales of joy when a student did well, and with his frustration with the uninterested or challenged student who just didn’t seem to be grasping the material. She would commiserate, but rarely had much to say about her own experiences. She knew her husband was virtually uninterested in the machinations of management and thoroughly distraught with the mysteries of accountancy. She did share her reactions to the variety of faculty members, commenting on the relative abilities of some as experts in the field measured against their capabilities as educators. “I know you’re a competent historian,” she would tell him. “But you’re a wonderful teacher. You make the subjects.
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