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I was scared to say the least, but knew I had no options except what they wanted me to have. There seemed to be 4 or 5 male voices. Then I heard a female voice, but from what she said, it sounded like she might be their slave. They just called her cunt. They told her to explain to me my purpose. They told me I was cunt 2. Someone asked me if I was ready to listen. I didn't know how to respond but tried to nod my head. It wasn't enough. I felt a hard kick in the stomach and a leather strap smack my pussy. They asked me again if I was ready. I made the best effort I could to respond. They told her to talk.She began by explaining that these men liked to have a few cunt slaves to use at their cabin far into the woods. I was their property and they would use me however they wanted. If I cooperated, I would live longer, and maybe even survive as she had done. If not, I wouldn't last long and I would never be seen or heard from again. She told me again in strong words that I. You panic briefly, not knowing what I am going to do and fear begins to intertwine with your lust. You can sense I'm at the bottom of the bed.I kneel at the bottom of the bed, using my hand to gently rub your cock, to harden it before pushing it between my breasts... After a while without warning I slide your cock fully into my mouth, you feel the full length in my throat, as I begin to suck and slide it in and out of my mouth. I look up at you and you see for the first time, a pure desire in your face and finally begin to see you feeling as sexy as you should. I stop before you orgasm. As you know, I don't want to tire you so soon. I move away from the bed and again you begin to wonder where I have gone.You feel the mattress dip because I've moved onto the bed by your feet. I crawl up your body and kiss you softly as I go. Kissing and licking up the inside of your thighs, over your stomach and pausing briefly over your nipples blowing gently. Continuing up to your neck, and.
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” “She is appealing,” I replied. “So you like her?” Ann asked. “She is cute,” I replied. I hadn’t really paid much attention to the receptionist. She was cute, but I didn’t remember anything that made her stand out. “Do you like what she was wearing?” Ann pressed. “I don’t remember what she was wearing,” I admitted. Ann frowned. “She is not sexy enough,” Ann remarked. “I will fix that.” ‘No, no, no,” I replied. I was trying to recall what the receptionist was wearing when I came in the front door. “No,” Ann countered, “American man must remember Kimsee. She is our first impression.” “Short skirt and black heels,” I blurted out. “Wait,” Ann remarked as she got up walked out of the conference room. “Kimsee, come,” Ann barked towards the reception desk. The young receptionist stepped into the conference room, her hands clasped, business-like, in front of her. She wore a tight beige-colored skirt, with a short hem, about six inches above her knees. She had on a pink, pull-over blouse.

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