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" Turn and face the wall, Cum-Wipe!" She demanded, instructing me to spread my legs even wider and reach for the floor. Whilst in doggy-position, Princess Sophia landed three more light to moderate blows to my dangling testicles, causing me to jump and gasp with each blow.Whack! Whack!! Whack!!!"Thank you, Princess Sophia." I whimpered pathetically, nursing my aching nuts.If this was the warm-up, I dreaded to think what the real blows would be like!"Face the front and stand to attention." She boomed.I turned back round to face her, standing as straight as I could."So, I take it that a jizz-guzzling whore like you could be tempted by a few forced-bi sessions, too?" She posed, clearly touting for more business."Oh, fuck! Yes, Princess Sophia." Hands on your head and spread your legs!" She barked.I did as she asked and was rewarded with another kick to the testicles."Oooof!" I groaned."I specialise in group-sessions. I have six or seven guys come over on a regular basis." She informed. Not for a long while. I fed Tento a little grain or two of rice from my secret breakfast bowl on the bedside table, ready for tomorrow morning. The morning routine now was the feed, the rush of clothes, the quick unlock then slow and small creek open of the door and then the quick bolt to the front door before Tut could be stirred from his luxury matted dog bed in the corner. Like a king, or emperor ruling the kitchen and living space. I was leaving half an hour early now, because I knew he woke with the sun through the big glass wall-windows, and I had to sit in a quiet spot on my phone or trying anxiously to read at a bench outside the subway whilst the time went past, and then go to work. I really hated myself, deep down. I felt lonely; I felt like talking to people always went badly. I’d been trying to work on it, but being so scared meant it took me lifetimes to make the smallest steps – and that meant, most times, it really felt like little had changed at all. Tut I had given a.
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When I reached the front of the cabin I looked at the cockpit door. “No.” I thought, I would leave them to their work. They had enough to contend with. “God be with you.” I whispered under my breath. Then turned back for the final slow walk back to my seat. I had closed all the curtains and requested the passengers to keep them closed for safety, they would help protect them against flying glass and, at the panoramic window, I paused to look at the wing. There was no smoke now but still fluid was streaming back from the damaged engine and spraying along the side of the fuselage. The rearmost windows were streaked with pink oil. I stayed for a moment, just looking and I realised that the flow was beginning to decrease. I was pleased. It meant the pilots had got the damage under control and I immediately felt much more hopeful. When it stopped altogether I actually smiled inwardly and pulled the curtain back across. What I didn't know, having no technical knowledge, was that the.

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