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There would be no sport in hunting a female who could easily be found with a tracker. And where would be the victory in capturing a woman who would come the moment you called her? “Beyala’s implant makes her very vulnerable to exploitation,” the general tells me, as if I, a woman, wouldn’t already know the implications of suffering the process. “The fleet will have to place here somewhere she can be protected by those merciful to her condition, and she will need assistance for the rest of her life.” The look I flash him is hard, for I know exactly why the general is showing Beyala to me. It’s a crude attempt at manipulation. This ruined female before me is a living example of the fate that awaits me if I fall into the Slavers’ hands. He expects me to go meekly into protection as soon as he shows me how her whole future has been shattered by one microchip. His ploy works, in that the horror I’m meant to feel at the idea of living her life is so intense, it’s as if someone has gripped my heart. And yet the sympathy I feel for her, the sisterly comradeship, is also intense. This is why I joined the space fleet, to help put an end to such barbarity. “I’m so sorry for what they’ve done to you,” I tell her with great tenderness. “Your sympathy for me is misdirected,” Beyala surprises me by interrupting, her answer delivered in a brusque, dismissive tone. I’d expected her voice to be compliant, like a slave, but she sounds cold, almost authoritarian. I soon learn why. “My implant prevents me feeling any unhappiness at my situation. Rather, I rejoice in serving men. So do not pity me. Furthermore the particular configuration of my chip programs me to feel masochistic urges around men – I truly want them to hurt me - but sexually sadistic cravings towards all other women. So your sympathy, to me, sounds only like an expression of your own weakness, and as it would arouse me to see you suffer, I recommend you do not show such vulnerability.” I understand now why she has been staring at me so intently. She’s enjoying my fear of the Slavers. Floundering for something to say, I try to break the sudden tension in the room. “Do you feel aware of the implant?” I can’t help asking from morbid curiosity. Beyala cuty looks contemptuously at me, and snorts with derision. Gods, she wants to hurt me so much she’ll even try with words. Is the control over her that bad? And I do flinch, stung by such animosity from a complete stranger. “I’m asking the question,” the general interrupts gently, taking control. “Answer me please, Beyala,” Compelled now to reply, she immediately does. “I know these instincts that make me such a slave once were not my own, Sir,” she says to him, changing back from hostility to humility so immediately it’s as though someone flipped a amateur switch, “and Cuckold yet today they feel so deeply part of my identity it’s as if they’ve always been there. In that sense I’m not aware of the implant at all.” “Some piece of my awareness knows I’m being controlled and my inclinations I would once have believed were shameful and wrong, and yet through the core of my being they’re also now me. As I stand here, Sir, I’m so desperate for you to tie me up and abuse me that I resent every second your whore friend sits here in this cabin with her prissy legs crossed.” My face reddens with embarrassment both at such frank admissions and the unceasing venom directed at me. Neither could be faked, and clearly they run to Beyala’s core. It’s cutie impossible to believe the delicate girl openly begging for cruelty could have been a normal young woman with the same will and urges as my own. For a moment I have an image of my steward Mansom college politely asking me for sex, and my irresistibly complying in some degrading act. I shudder. “And this could be your fate, Melena, if you don’t go into hiding,” the general resumes. “This, and worse than this, for unlike Beyala they will certainly want to subject you to public degradation.” Looking away from the almost predatory stare of the slave girl, I restore my courage and my equilibrium. Preventing this kind of treatment of sentient females is why I joined the fight. “Whatever the risks, you can’t discriminate against me just because I’m a woman, and because men happen to find me attractive,” I say angrily. The nineteen-year-old redhead gasped in “shock.” If the figure hadn't set the stage for her victory, the figure would have believed it was a genuine surprise. They barely said a word as they drank their tea and headed for bed. I’d leaked and I just hoped that it would dry before the 2 cops looked. I insisted, “Go get ready. That’s why they’re there.

When I was young, I’m pretty sure I was in love with my cousin. As I pondered these confusing revelations about my sexual orientation, Stephanie retrieved her large purse that hung over the back of an old chair and began to cuty rummage through its contents. “Daddy, it was him.” amateur Was I could say. She followed Alistair into the room to find three people waiting. Ethan and Heather worked out together for cutie 45 minutes, then returned to shower. With Dakota sitting on my lap, I’m sure she can feel my cock getting hard and poking her cute little pussy. Vin scowled at me, college "You're having fun, aren't you?" This prompted Ravi to slide his hand from his mothers shoulder and place it under her arm feeling the softness of her flesh. I laid out some relaxing clothes Cuckold such as loose-fitting jeans, a button-down dress shirt in yellow, underwear, socks, belt, and my sneakers.