" he said."How long have they had him?" I asked."Eight hours give or take ten minutes, How close are you to an airport?" he asked."Hold on a second," ... said to him. Then to Lucy I asked, "How long to an airport?" There is a small Airport about two hours away," she informed me. I in turn informed the admiral."We will have a plane waiting, when you get there," the admiral said."Tell him to have room for two," Lucy demanded. "I speak all of the dialects of Arabic, you need me." Make that a table. "Oooh," she cried. "Oooh." And our bodies were locked in the wildest heat I think I'd ever known.We pounded each other repeatedly still, but with ever less intensity, our guts finally spilling themselves away to each other. And then there came that moment when we didn't have to shove as much or as hard, and when we could breathe again; and we took deep breaths and gradually regained our senses. And all the while we finished our final jabs, those last small thrusts to release whatever nerves. ”“Good for you!” I tried to deflect her indignation. As uncomfortable as it was thinking I'd offended my sexy guest, hearing her echo one of my pet peeves was a pleasant surprise. This girl seemed more engaging by the minute. “I've never understood the appeal of that” – I continued – “I mean, why do we even still need cheerleaders in the 21st century? It's sexist and archaic. Not to mention stupid.”“I know, right?”, she crowed. “Buncha fuckin' brain dead bimbos!”“Well, I mean.. I don't mean. . that’s the first thing. You now have the mark of a slave, broken satisfactorily to submission - the symbol one that is universally recognised down there ... but that alone won’t be sufficient to keep you from being taken into slavery or slain for pleasure on Vulvador...” Veen gasped as the masochistic delight of the pain subsided, and the dark excitement of his imminent orgasm took prominence with his senses, his cock thrusting with urgency at the bedding. The screen changed from footage of.