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Will I feel proud? On my face would be the Slaver’s mark that I’d carry for life, and I’d forever have an un-activated implant dormant in my brainstem. I’ll remain Casting Couch Backroom hairless on my body. Would I be able to resume any position of responsibility in the Republic Backroom Anal Fleet, or would it be too difficult when every man I work with would know how I look when I climax, and would have seen me making love to Leesha? Survive first, and then consider Backroom MILF the future. Stay calm by living in the now, I tell myself. It’s almost pitch dark in my hiding place. The rectangular opening of the window is letting in some starlight, but there are no moons over Aghara-Penthay so I can barely see my own slender hands before me. And it’s so quiet. The silence unsettles me. For many months there was always the background noise of backroom-casting a starship while I slept, and after that there was the sound of other women in the slave pens. But here in the desert there is no sound at all. It’s what they call a deathly silence. I hate it, like I hate everything on this vile planet. 14 - Second I awake, feeling overwhelmingly defenseless and vulnerable, and I sit up with a frightened jolt. I’d not meant to fall asleep. Panic subsiding, I take stock of my surroundings. The rectangle of sky through the window space is a little lighter but I can see it’s still an hour or two before dawn. In theory I’m safe until the sun breaks above the rim of the bowl, but that doesn’t mean the Hunters aren’t waiting somewhere close by, ready to nab me as soon as they’re backroom casting allowed. The sensible move would be to leave before the sun becomes visible. The sandclaws will have gone to their lairs just before daybreak, but the Hunters and their entourages will not be moving. I shift the door away from the opening, taking longer this time to avoid making the least noise. From my belly there is an uncomfortable grumble and I realize I didn’t eat all day yesterday. My mouth is also dry and parched. Quietly I call out for water, and this time I also call out for food. Sure enough the galaxy is still here with me – only seconds later two canisters float in through the open window. I unscrew the lid of the food container first. As expected it contains an unpleasant broth. This is slave gruel – the staple food of women on Aghara-Penthay. Both girls stared at me wide-eyed and open mouthed. Then she sucked on Noah's cock, swelling life back into her son. Cindy’s mother was not a stupid woman. The relief at escaping the restriction of his shorts was visible backroom casting and he relaxed on the bed, his little backroom-casting pecker standing up in full view. Both of them had one kid each. Like most Backroom MILF girls in her class she kept the pubic hair trimmed, but had not gone for the completely shaved approach. Laura's face was flushed and her nipples strained, hard and erect, at the fabric of her blouse. But they never crossed that line, and both kept that a very close secret. “Isidora!” I panted. She was showing off her beautiful figure as usual, wearing a form-fitting blouse, a short skirt, and tall stockings complete with garters. About 300 Backroom Anal employees were Casting Couch Backroom to be trained in 12 sessions over the course of 3 days. He motioned for Clara to bend over and put her hands on her bed.

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