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I see girls pinching their cheeks to create a healthier glow; some adjust college their breasts to make them more prominent in the simple vests, and a few even pull at their nipples so they stand prouder for masculine attention. Sour steps down from the podium and begins moving up and down the lines of Gaianesians. Sometimes he lingers with one female, touching her breast or stroking a cheek. Words are whispered. Service to only one man should be the best option of all, and yet when the Governor closes in, women shrink away from him, like a wave recoiling on a beach. Many of the women are twink exceptional beauties, but perhaps Sour is dissatisfied, for at the end of the rows I distinctly notice him frown, look the group over, and then resume his selection. He peruses the lines several times, revisiting several girls before making a choice. “This one,” he says loud enough for us all to hear, indicating a long limbed girl. She’s young, and has small breasts and a face with large eyes that make her look underage, but if his taste is actually for the Lolitas he’s mistaken, for I know this creature. She was a junior medical officer and is older than she appears. “Please! No Master! Let me go!” pleads the woman, shaking her head and looking masturbating round helplessly for aid that isn’t going to come. Unlike some of the Gaianesian prisoners her markings are fully purple. She must have been used frequently back on Aghara-Penthay. “Have her chained in my bedchamber,” the governor commands one of his guards, who grins at the prospect of manhandling the girl. “But only fix that chain to one of her ankles. Leave the rest of her limbs free. I like giving them a bit of room to fight. And something to begin taming her – a whip, or a goad maybe?” “Sir…” his man acknowledges without judgement or disapproval in his face. “Please, no! Not me!” the young woman is desperately appealing to the crowd, but all the guard has to do is order, “Follow me, cunt,” cumshot and her legs begin propelling her towards her inevitable rape. Members of the prison guards chose their ten next, taking even longer over moving up and down the blowjob lines and pulling women from the formation. I do not entirely understand their selections. While there is a preference for the younger women with pretty faces and more feminine curves, some of those I consider most attractive are left behind. Hoola is one of those rejected to remain in the lines. Her eyes are wide and her body is rigid with fear as she contemplates what this failure means. While the remainders look at each other uncertainly, Governor Sour makes his way towards our group. With a hard look on his face he stands right in front of my Master Klink. They’re almost the same height. “Aghara-Penthay were paid for one hundred and fifty Gaianesians. Without looking at me she said “let’s watch the movie, don’t forget the lights.” I got up and masturbating flipped the light switch. I soaped up, washed my hair cumshot and rinsed off. There in front of him was a perfect picture blowjob of Emelie's bare titties, with two pink nipples stiff as his cock, that she must have just taken with her iPhone. She started moving faster and better by the minutes not caring if it hurts him. Damn, you're getting me all hot and bothered dear. Her eyes were as red as the blood congealing down her body. As she milked her tit, she licked it along with my lips as she shot into my mouth. I rushed out of the class, my cheeks red with embarrassment. He swallowed hard, still staring at them, and she saw the slight movement in the front of his shorts. “How are you feeling miss? Do I need twink to call for an ambulance?” college