I am Training Mistress Rachel, and you are zero.
Zero. That means you are nothing.
Provide me with 100 worship strokes.
One of the things that always amuses me about you little boys is that all of you, to a one, believe you could satisfy me if given a chance.
I can't decide if it's simple stupidity or if there is something seriously wrong with your brains. I have this perfect little body, and you—well—you're a zero.
Bye-bye, zero. There's more for you at one these three places:
p=26#t
p=18#t
p=29#t
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