Cute student gets nailed by her teacher

We are secured together then, in some fashion I cannot see. The journey we make is not back to the recreation room, where I was traded and she was captured, and we are not taken to the bridge. Instead our chain gang waddles a short distance to the docking bay. The guards do not give us an opportunity to escape. Around us the color scheme of the bland corridors changes to show we have changed vessels, and abruptly we find ourselves moving out onto a wide, busy concourse lined with shops, cafes and bars. I know where we are, although only from having seen it on video screens. I’ve never visited here in reality, and never wanted to unless it was as part of a mission sent to destroy the place. This is the trading station. Aghara-Penthay is the name of the planet below. In orbit around the planet student is the trading station – a vast hub that’s decreed the only point in the Slaver’s realm accessible to outsiders. This security measure makes it impossible for women to escape once they have been transported to the surface. Only the Slaver’s own shuttles allow access from the ground back up to the station – the route out to freedom. Slaves – i.e. all females, are not permitted on the shuttles except under escort, and they only make this journey twice - when they are transported down to be trained, and then back up after processing to be auctioned. Around me on the station, I know that in large rooms off the concourse will be the various auction halls, dealing in everything from run-of-the-mill domestic or pleasure women exchanged for modest sums of money, through to the sale rooms for rare or significant females who change hands for fortunes. Although the main trade on Aghara-Penthay is in women, and my sex is present all around me, the male population in the trading station significantly outnumbers the female. Men flock here in their droves to enjoy the most notorious fleshpot teen in the galaxy. They come to buy pleasure, easy gratification, either for the night or by purchasing more permanent ownership. Unarmed and outnumbered, even women who end up passing through here in larger groups have no chance of revolt or escape. The majority of fellow females that I see are naked save for chains which link them together in long lines of servitude. All the Slaver men are armed, most with the hateful goads and a few with blaster weapons which could do more serious harm. Some of the sisters in bondage who mill around us are new arrivals, some are leaving, and some seem to be blowjob in service here on the station. I don’t need any skill to tell the difference between trained women, returned back Hardcore up here and on their way out to be sold, and new captures about to descend into a world of torture and humiliation on the planet’s surface. Processed women have their faces tattooed with the slave-mark – the sign of degradation that they will carry for life. Although I cannot see the implants buried in these women’s skulls – an even college girl more terrible lifelong burden, I know each one of them carries one. For the mark of a true slave is applied only when the girl is implanted. The new arrivals like Ja-alixxe and myself are yet to be marked. These fresh captures usually look terrified and broken and 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 immediately be taken. These lucky visitors I see are still slaves, but slaves whose bondage is temporary. In the safety of my bedroom, I dropped my pants, leaned back against the chest of draws, and began masturbating as I stared at aunt May posing on my phone. I had to get closer so Prince Meinard could hear me. Through the flames, I witnessed my brother rising. He says he will have someone take care of it in a couple of hours. The thought made the straying wife shiver. Then she groaned and shoved down her panties and, to my delight, I discovered my daughter was shaved. I shrugged, "I know." What if we had been fucking teen on the living room floor?” I was scared…I said No” Ragini said, twirling Sujata’s nipple between her thumb and forefinger. “You girls are just too much.” This causes a yelp from her. She was shaking and her usually olive skin was very pale. Basketball was obvious because of the team picture. The fact that he is holding me up and spread my legs student tortures me. I needed to be filled. Both me and Kristen jump and we both start to look around the room for a source. Suddenly she readjusted herself, scooching her pussy up against one of my knees. A woman wearing a pilot jacket and hat boarded Hardcore the plane. “Room 188-A” I said to myself. And thank college girl you for asking.” "You like what you see," Mr. Malcolm said snapping Samantha out of her daydream "sorry sir" "don't call me sir, you blowjob know I like to call Malcolm or Mr. Malcolm whichever you prefer". I grabbed a small tape recorder I had, put in an extended length tape, ran back to the livingroom and looked around for a good place to hide it.