Mr. Jacobsen starts to slip fingers inside of me and my breath catches in my throat. I slip my hand over my mouth and enjoy the sensations I’m feeli...g in a crowded room. The more I think about how no one knows what’s happening under the table, the wetter I get. Then I lock eyes with the bass player. He’s figured out what’s happening.“Shit. The bass player knows.” I whisper.“Is he looking at your face or under the table?” Caleb asks.“Both.”“You like this don’t you? You like him watching you get. There are no rules. You fight for survival and most of the times, dignity. The winner gets to decide what happens to the loser. The winner can either let the loser go or rape and humiliate him/her.There's no proper selection of the fighers as well. Infact males vs females is quite common. The amount you recieve depends on how much the audience and the emperor liked your fight. This always means more money for the fighter who fucks/humiliates his/her opponent.World war 3 in 2035 leaves the world. He pulled out just a little bit and pushed back in. Then he pulled out a little bit more and pushed back in again. Gradually, he worked up to being able to fuck three or four inches in and out of me and he stayed with that rhythm.I was limp and utterly helpless. I was cumming continuously just from having his cock in me. Fucking me was only for his benefit. I had no choice and could make no effort, I simply let him fuck me. It was the first time I had ever completely surrendered to the needs of. "Don't try Slater's, and I wouldn't send a pig's mother to any of the other places. Come, you'll stay here. I've plenty of room."And so we did and ate a small meal, used the fancy House of Necessity in the back garden and slept in a soft bed under fluffy quilts on the third floor and woke to hot water in big jugs and a breakfast fit for a hungry dock hand or a starving mill worker. We had beer and coffee and tea and hot milk and biscuits and corn dodgers and fried steaks and cold gammon and.