She screamed at the third one, and for the fifth one it was a huge shriek. She froze, unable to breathe, waiting for a next one that didn’t come. Al... her senses were on edge, she had never been so alert in her entire life. After several seconds that felt like minutes, she allowed herself to breathe again. She wanted to cry but didn’t have the energy to do it, or so she thought. She was despaired again, and wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Well at least her mind told her that it was. Did counselling courses instead. Qualified in several styles, mainly use Rogerian." What's that?" Non-directive. The best counselling ... in my opinion ... doesn't instruct, just frees and leads the client to make their own decisions."That was as much as I said about my profession. She did get me to admit I had no attachments; again, I was unsure about the whole thing. I thought, though, we parted comfortably.Our first session a few days later was so routine it was as though we'd never met. She sobbed and sobbed in despair.Meanwhile unknown to the forlorn stretched figure at the post, another Arab had come in. He prepared Christina for the next operation. He brought a table and a box of instruments, a hypodermic needle, and two small shining stainless steel rings...Christina spent a fitful night. Every time she turned or stretched, she was painfully aware of her wrists chained to her new nipple rings. As before, a short chain held her leather collar, which she was quite unable to. I had a look at a thick brown-haired motte, a belly, and a pair of white round thighs a duchess might have been proud of, I kissed her cunt, and fumbling about from her navel to her arse-hole, fucking her with a long lingering fuck which left us both silent, and enervated. My cock lingered up her as I lay quiet, squeezing my belly up to hers, my lips still against her rosy mouth, and said, “You will have a boy this day nine months.”And she did have a boy that day nine months. A second time that.