"There are no authorities here, only the prisoners. I am a prisoner," said Kate, "We regulate our own society and it may seem odd to you how we do it,...but it keeps us alive, just. I can think of no way of treating you other than as a normal prisoner. I'll bend the rules as far as I can to see that you get a decent owner, but even that may not be possible." Owner?" asked Jacqui in astonishment."Owner," asserted Kate, "Every woman on Csadia is owned by a male prisoner, without exception. Every. His cock felt big, thick and I could also feel his round cock head. Seeing that I was enjoying it and still stroking his cock my son again moved his hand around my boobs. I was getting so fucking horny that I had forgotten everything about right and wrong. I guided my son’s hand inside my gown through the neckline. He touched my bare boobs, and slipping his hand more inside my gown he cupped my one boob. I took a deep breathe, and he felt my erect nipples. I was slowly moving my soft hand on. ”“Surely not?” I was shocked by his comment.“Boredom, alcohol, disease, and sometimes all three, carries them off. White females do no form of work in India. They have servants to cook, clean, wash, iron, dress and undress them, and even wipe their backside if required. Their husbands are at work all day and spend most evenings at their clubs. These women are getting married solely to enable their husbands’ future promotion, and after the wedding night their husband will probably not plug them. ‘So why am I here?’ She asked after her laughter died away. ‘Is this the afterlife for people who died of stupidity?’ ‘Not at all!’ Eric answered. ‘This is the place heroes come after they die.’ The words struck all the mirth from Ginny. Her a hero? There had to be some mistake. She was no hero. She had never done great deeds to be passed down in songs. ‘You are a hero.’ He went on, as if he had read her thoughts. ‘You died saving the life of that boy. You ran back into what you knew was.