microphones so close to our...our...between our thighs!” She choked back another sob.
“Please, turn around,” Casey said. “You can both sit on that bunk, and Steve and I will sit on mine.”
Slowly, with their heads bent down, the women turned and faced us, downcast eyes gazing at the floor.
“Please, sit down. You can’t stand there all night.”
With a side-stepping shuffle, they moved to the bunk and sat, still keeping their heads bent forward, tears dripping on the floor.
The brunette was a fascinating beauty. White creamy shoulders, her hair rich, thick cascading tresses of gleaming black silk. She displayed her abundant breasts, The largest I have ever seen—even bigger than those that tormented me in college, concealed behind fluffy white sweaters.
My brunette girl’s twin charms protruded forward, demanding appreciation. Full and firm, with raspberry nipples, beautifully displayed and perfectly vulnerable, demanding the nip and gnaw of a male’s teeth. She wore the number ‘F-0868’. When I got a clear look at her face it was teasingly familiar, but I still couldn’t quite remember who she was.
Her torso slimmed down to a maidenly waist, then flared out in voluptuous hips. Her thighs clamped tight together, exposing only a perfect triangle of tangled, glossy pussy hair. Her thighs were classic, full and soft, perfectly tapered down to strong, supple knees. Her lower legs were a twin fulfillment of man’s most erotic dreams. There were cuffs on her ankles, but no chain. Her feet were dainty, with toes like a fashion model’s, the nails painted bright crimson.
“You’re lovely,” I said. “Please look at me.”
She raised her head and gave me a weak smile. “You’re very kind. I should be grateful they chose you to...to...F-f-fu-u-c...” she choked on another sob. Her faint accent jolted my memory, but she still didn’t click in my mind.
“Just relax, and don’t think about it yet. We have all night to obey Big Dick. There’s no rush. We can talk awhile until you feel ready.”
I studied her face. It was so familiar, but I couldn’t put a name to it. Well, we don’t have names anymore, just those numbers on our chests, so I quit searching my memory.
She had cinnamon-brown eyes, soft and vulnerable. And a heart-shaped face, with her nose turned up slightly, giving her an elfin look. Her Cupid’s-bow mouth wore glossy crimson lipstick that matched the color on her toenails. Her white teeth shone when she tried to smile. Her nude body was perfumed with the scent of lilac blooms, my favorite. I closed my eyes and inhaled her fragrance, dreaming of us both being naked, with me chasing her through a flower-strewn meadow, her shrieking as I caught her and both of us tumbling into a patch of clover, laughing, clutching at each other’s bodies, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Big Dick must be reading glamour magazines and critiquing their grooming. He must be guessing my thoughts. His tinny voice whispered in our cell, “ Merci, Monsieur le Docteur Steven Trent.”
“Oh, I remember! You’re the French girl working on the fusion reactor power system for the new super aircraft carrier. Uh...Mon...Monique, something!”
“Monique Brunelle, monsieur .” She briefly glanced down at her binding harness and naked body, “I used to work on the fusion reactor.”
“Yes, I’m sorry this had to happen to you.” I desperately wanted to nuzzle my face in the sensual cloud of her silken hair. “Please, Monique, just call me ‘Steve’. The days when we had to use formal titles are over. No more artificial social status to interfere with our carnal desires. Now we all belong to each other sexually,” I tried to put a good face on our predicament. “It’s like we are all intimately joined with each other in a vast group marriage, without the exasperating delay of a ceremony and frustrating legal red tape.”
I looked at the crimson stripes of the whip welts on her belly and inside of
“Please, turn around,” Casey said. “You can both sit on that bunk, and Steve and I will sit on mine.”
Slowly, with their heads bent down, the women turned and faced us, downcast eyes gazing at the floor.
“Please, sit down. You can’t stand there all night.”
With a side-stepping shuffle, they moved to the bunk and sat, still keeping their heads bent forward, tears dripping on the floor.
The brunette was a fascinating beauty. White creamy shoulders, her hair rich, thick cascading tresses of gleaming black silk. She displayed her abundant breasts, The largest I have ever seen—even bigger than those that tormented me in college, concealed behind fluffy white sweaters.
My brunette girl’s twin charms protruded forward, demanding appreciation. Full and firm, with raspberry nipples, beautifully displayed and perfectly vulnerable, demanding the nip and gnaw of a male’s teeth. She wore the number ‘F-0868’. When I got a clear look at her face it was teasingly familiar, but I still couldn’t quite remember who she was.
Her torso slimmed down to a maidenly waist, then flared out in voluptuous hips. Her thighs clamped tight together, exposing only a perfect triangle of tangled, glossy pussy hair. Her thighs were classic, full and soft, perfectly tapered down to strong, supple knees. Her lower legs were a twin fulfillment of man’s most erotic dreams. There were cuffs on her ankles, but no chain. Her feet were dainty, with toes like a fashion model’s, the nails painted bright crimson.
“You’re lovely,” I said. “Please look at me.”
She raised her head and gave me a weak smile. “You’re very kind. I should be grateful they chose you to...to...F-f-fu-u-c...” she choked on another sob. Her faint accent jolted my memory, but she still didn’t click in my mind.
“Just relax, and don’t think about it yet. We have all night to obey Big Dick. There’s no rush. We can talk awhile until you feel ready.”
I studied her face. It was so familiar, but I couldn’t put a name to it. Well, we don’t have names anymore, just those numbers on our chests, so I quit searching my memory.
She had cinnamon-brown eyes, soft and vulnerable. And a heart-shaped face, with her nose turned up slightly, giving her an elfin look. Her Cupid’s-bow mouth wore glossy crimson lipstick that matched the color on her toenails. Her white teeth shone when she tried to smile. Her nude body was perfumed with the scent of lilac blooms, my favorite. I closed my eyes and inhaled her fragrance, dreaming of us both being naked, with me chasing her through a flower-strewn meadow, her shrieking as I caught her and both of us tumbling into a patch of clover, laughing, clutching at each other’s bodies, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Big Dick must be reading glamour magazines and critiquing their grooming. He must be guessing my thoughts. His tinny voice whispered in our cell, “ Merci, Monsieur le Docteur Steven Trent.”
“Oh, I remember! You’re the French girl working on the fusion reactor power system for the new super aircraft carrier. Uh...Mon...Monique, something!”
“Monique Brunelle, monsieur .” She briefly glanced down at her binding harness and naked body, “I used to work on the fusion reactor.”
“Yes, I’m sorry this had to happen to you.” I desperately wanted to nuzzle my face in the sensual cloud of her silken hair. “Please, Monique, just call me ‘Steve’. The days when we had to use formal titles are over. No more artificial social status to interfere with our carnal desires. Now we all belong to each other sexually,” I tried to put a good face on our predicament. “It’s like we are all intimately joined with each other in a vast group marriage, without the exasperating delay of a ceremony and frustrating legal red tape.”
I looked at the crimson stripes of the whip welts on her belly and inside of
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