My eyes stare at the ceiling, vibrating in the shaking of my incredible dumbfounded, hysterical nature. The girls eventually return to my side and wipe me down, finishing the nails they wanted to finish. I don't even respond yet simply lay there in a state of mental languish.Eventually, I am able to consciously make decisions. I look up at the girl who can speak english and I ask her..."Never going home, huh?" No, girl, you are not. The Master wishes you to be clean, healthy, and beautiful for Him so we may begin training you as a slave girl." Fuck that! I'm no one's slave!" Girl, you are lucky you can fight, for if not, they would surely beat you to the point where you would beg for death." Pfft..whatever. I killed 6 of those damn assholes...I'll get away and this time I won't stop running.."She just sighs and finishes putting on my makeup. It seems that in my unusual state they had washed me and dressed me in some kind of fine burlap outfit. It wasn't really very flattering in. My fingers trace down between my breasts, do we go left or right? I wait for your words to tell me. Being a southpaw, you start on my right side. My index finger traces around and around slowly moving inward, my thumb accidentally brushes the tip of my nipple. A shiver quakes up my spine, and I feel the spasm in my lower abdomen that moves down to my clit. As my mind tells me how your touch will feel, my fingers mimic your words. I have goosebumps, more from the thought of your touch than the cool air in my room. My nipple grows harder and I find it getting more difficult to type my side of this chat. You tell me your philosophy has always been “ladies first” which I find quite charming, yet I feel selfish in not being able to type fast enough as my mind and my body are being distracted by your words. I tell you how I will hold your cock at its base with my index finger and thumb. I wrap around and tighten my grip as my other three fingers caress your balls. My hand moves up your.
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