This is about getting her to admit it to herself, so she can move on, knowing what she wants."Sheila was listening, somewhat hurt that everyone in the...room was talking about her as if she wasn't there. What they were saying kind of stung, too... She backed off from sucking Master Rusty's cock -- an oddly comforting activity -- to say, "I was just playing along..."A hand slid along her cheek, under her hair, and Master Rusty's voice said gently, "We know, Honey. Question is, do you know why? Do. . if I would like to be called 'quim'"After a pause I said "Correct, fuckhole."ZAP went the electric prod again. She gasped in pain. "You still have not answered my first question, fuckhole" No, I don't want to be called 'quim'" she gasped.ZAP once more with the prod. "It does not matter what you want, fuckhole. You will obey. If you fuck, you get to eat. If you don't want to fuck, you get pain, and you get fucked anyway, and you don't get to eat. So it's better if you fuck willingly. Do you. For the ultra-rich, sleeves became almost like clothing. They could have bodies grown - or even bioprinted - to their own preferences and designs. The more moderately wealthy - but still rich beyond the reach of most of the population - could maybe afford to save up for a designer sleeve, to switch into once their bodies started to fail them. Or they could buy "off-the-rack", living their lives in a succession of "used" sleeves from various sources - people who had elected to move on into VR,. I was on summer vacation, just finished 8th grade so we went to some Catholic organization and they sent us to this fancy restaurant that needed a dishwasher and busboy. Both of us were hired on the spot and started the following day. Our boss, the manager of the restaurant, lived in Mexico just across the border and commuted back and forth to work everyday. The waitresses told me the boss had an 11 yr. old son that he brought to work with him on the weekends and that he was a holy terror named.