These fresh captures usually look terrified and broken and blonde are frequently crying. Processed women have more stoic expressions of acceptance, and some of them actually look eager to be sold. Perhaps anything is better than the horror waiting for us down on the surface. Slavery is everywhere, although not quite every woman at the trading station is destined for lifelong bondage. Some females come in as crew or passengers on ships, and depart on those same ships, only briefly tasting the abuse that will be unending for most. Such women are permitted into the station only if dressed as a slave should be, and they must remain in the company of a registered male owner at all times. A female would be insanely foolish to venture here on her own, for she would blowjob immediately be taken. These lucky visitors I see are still slaves, but slaves whose bondage is temporary. They will not have their faces marked, although if their registered owner does wish for a permanent memento, there are still places on the station where the masters can have their property implanted. Private slaves, i.e. those not owned by the planet, have to wear bracelets locked on a wrist, registered with their DNA and linking them to their owner. The information is filed with the Slaver authorities and bracelets are checked frequently. A woman cannot “fake” an owner. There are a number of different garments worn by private slaves. The most common is the wrap, Fingering like mine, but in navy-blue. It is greatly coveted by the many Slaver-owned girls, that blue wrap. Wearing blue means you’re not destined to go down to the planet. Wearing that means you’ll leave this hellhole. For a few females, coming here is even a strange form of tourism – women who crave to briefly experience a reality where they are nothing but owned objects of desire, and they venture here with trusted escorts, deliberately seeking time in the bracelet and the navy blue slave clothing. I can guess who these lucky ones are by their expressions, which are flushed with excitement and lack the dead-eyed manner of the others. When I look at those among my fellows who are true slaves, I wonder if I look as broken as they. Two drunks stagger past, singing, and almost knock us aside. The relaxed attitude of the men on the concourse differs pornstars dramatically from the women. Aghara-Penthay is a popular destination for male ship crews who flock here here to relax, get laid and enjoy the sight of so many scantily dressed females. Ja-alixxe and I pass a typical crew in dirty overalls, sitting drinking alcohol, and I am recognized for the first time. “Melena de stockings Santo,” a mechanic covered in oil calls out to me jovially. “It’s really you. “No panties? Deb closed her eyes and concentrated on the thick long cock gliding in and out of her ass. Uuunh!" A single little lie – god if Emily saw him what would she say? I was on the verge of orgasming, when I heard a strange female voice call out from the sidewalk, in front of the house, "Hey! So after a good 20 minutes of resting and chit chatting, the blonde group headed their naked asses upstairs. When I got there I found a note that the garage was open and to take whatever I needed. I think he pushed a finger into her bottom as she let out a squeal, and told Grandpa that it was hurting after earlier. You love being controlled by me! Makes you wet!” “Oh my fucking God,” Anthony cried. She spread her legs and opened sight to her wetly shining pussy. It made a marvelous suite, creating a Fingering parlor/library type sitting room between the bedrooms with a gorgeous vaulted ceiling to the roof peak. blowjob Gerard continues to play with the offered sex, taking the bristles in and out several times. I fluttered my tongue through her cunt. I rubbed my hands together, fighting the urge to grab my futa-dick as the stage lights came on. As we were preparing to leave she looks over at me and says, “You look pornstars like you really know how to take notes, she stated” “Yeah, I took a class in high school that taught a combination of note taking and stockings shorthand, I replied. When she took my hand and called me “Daddy,” I wanted to hold her in a most unfatherly way.