Of course, that was a valuable commodity and was rationed out like water after a week in a lifeboat. Small purchases might reap sex a couple of times ...uring the following month. Most of the rich bitches got their cock from their personal trainer, tennis coach or the doctor who filled and shaped their tits with silicone. Or a combination of them, with a new gardener thrown in once in a while.Their main pastime, other than spending their husbands' money, was gossip. Missing a gathering made you. I could crawl slowly with the chains on, or do very simple tasks with my hands, but I couldn't stand, or fend for myself, or even eat properly. When they'd given me some slop to eat (vegetables and piss put through a blender), they hadn't bothered to order me to lick it off the plate; it was the only way I could get food to my mouth now.Worst of all were the locks. A small one connected my nose ring and tongue ring, forcing me to keep my mouth open and tongue out like a panting dog, robbing. When he finished his cigarette he said today just one more thing is left to do and after that we will go home . I was surprised by that because when he came he didn't want to do me or touch me or do something else.He start the car and drove about 30 minutes but we going to different part of town this time it was rush hour time he parked his car and told me to wear a sweatshirt he brought with him and zipped it. That sweatshirt was covering my bust to just below my navel . I couldn't cover my. Those full lips of hers, opening gently as she exhaled as the moon illuminated her cleavage. I was paralyzed. I became wet, imagining unbuttoning her vest and taking off her shirt. The lust was unbearable.She payed for the cab and invited me inside. Her apartment was warm and cozy and I felt really glad to be there. She came, with two glasses of red wine, and proposed a toast. "To this night," she said. I smiled. There was some good music playing, from her laptop, and the wine made her lips red.