Then I noticed they also wore cuffs with rings on their ankles and wrists.Ayala looked at me. "Your sister slaves. They belong to your Master. The blo...de one is called Salome, the brunette is Mira and the black haired one is Sura." I saw their names on their collars. That is when it really hit me. Soon I was going to be a slave for real wearing a collar with a new name and kneeling like them.She gestured at them. "You may speak."They all turned their heads to look at me. Salome said, "You are. The motorcars on the streets were familiar to me because they were exactly the same as the exported cars that dominated the streets of most western cities. The industrial base of the country had adapted swiftly to the changing world order and they had assumed leadership in the production of inexpensive and dependable automobiles for western consumption. The streets themselves were no longer the romantic cobblestones of an era long past its glory. They were paved with the latest surface. He moved his hips so that she could reach his huge rigid cock. It warmed her mouth with its heat and the moisture at the end tasted like a pungent honey. The cock was large and rock hard. The skin was soft, supple and fragrant, with the head of the organ being plump and just a little softer than the shaft. The Great Bull quaked as she swallowed his cock. His moans were a soft low growling. She held his great rod with one hand, while she clutched at his arm leading between her legs, where. N. behind the triage desk had become somewhatde-sensitized to the complaining, the sometimes-rude belligerent people, andthe general circus like atmosphere that surrounded the triage desk. Candi,the triage nurse had worked nights at the hospital's ER for nearly twenty years.Candi was divorced and perhaps her job had something to do with it, or maybethe night schedule that she refused to come off, or perhaps there was a darkerreason, but in any event, her job was her life. She often worked long.