She heard the deep base of the music from the pub and the voices of the crowd. Try not to think about puking… she thought. “Hey… get a grip Sel...na. Come on let me take you home. I think I might know where your friend is.” He heard him talking. He dragged her with him for couple of minutes down the deserted streets. She felt his strong warm hand on her naked arm. Except the street lights the town was dark. It must be pretty late, Selena thought and tried to keep on walking as hard as she could. I have chosen to be more than just the simple, fucking, baby-producing machine that most other women are.Q: And is that, then, how you reconcile your role as the enslaver of females?A: “Enslaver?” You make it sound as if these women are being abused. These girls are pampered! They don’t need to cook or clean. They don’t need to change any messy diapers. Heck, they don’t need to worry about anything in life except to make sure their masters are sexually satisfied. They live the carefree. More

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