Then sure.Lisa looks at her husband behind Marcy.The closest one sank his meat into Anne's back door while the other two hung back to wait their turns.A few months ago, Jaxson Inc. bought a company called Happy, Happee Limo.Get any ideas?She braced her hands against the wall and pushed back, resisting the urge to pull away, whimpering as the massive tool parted her fuck tunnel.I was panting so hard that I thought I was going to throw up and it felt like all of my muscles were going to come undone, but I managed to beat Sonja to the punch and grabbed the frisbee.Sorry for what slut.When she was released from the cross, she collapsed just like Tina had done before.All I know is that I emerged into the daylight later that day (or was it several days later?), paused upon the steps of Breezehome, turned my face toward the sun; closed my eyes and tried to absorb it.It was Wednesday, and Granny Sex I had to get as many drawings done as I could for Friday. Things will be worse for me tonight if I’m here alone.I step in my frame, flexing and trying to shift the encircling ropes away from the worst bruising on my wrists, and I feel my breasts shake with my movements. Soft and full, they hang there like ripe alabaster fruit, an advert calling every man’s attention to the fact that I am female, and nubile. God I hate my boobs; I hate Granny Sex having wide childbearing hips; I hate having a delicate almost perfectly symmetrical feminine face; I hate having long smooth legs; I hate having a round, toned, ass; I hate having pouting lips; I hate my wine-colored hair; I hate my pouting lips; I hate that there’s a hole between my legs instead of a cock and balls. But most of all I hate these breasts. I had no choice about being born with genes to deliver me big breasts, and they’ve brought me nothing but misery my entire life. I look up from my bout of self-loathing and I’m gripped by fear. One of Salarin’s underlings, across by one of the buildings, is standing watching me. How long has he been looking? I think to break eye contact too late. The man calls out and I feel myself shrink in my bonds. He shouts an order, inaudible to me over the distance between us.Tears prick in my eyes, and I pull with my arms, again trying to draw my hands free through my bindings. Please help me no, my body surely can’t survive more rape.I have my head humbly down, but inexorably he approaches me anyway.There might be some alien blood in this one, for he is unnaturally tall, almost seven feet high, and he’s very thin. It’s as though someone took a normally proportioned man and stretched him upwards. His skin is mid-brown and without trace of him needing to ever shave, but his hair and eyes are jet black.He stands close to me, where Salarin did before I was tortured, and then cups the underside of my left breast in his hand, the one with sperm dried on it, jiggling it up and down to test my weight and firmness. He releases me. Melena de Santo, he says in a voice that is soft and high-pitched, almost like a woman’s whisper.