I eventually came across my first key and it took time rolling over and positioning my hands to pick it up. I try it in the lock - no good. I feel mix...ure of disappointment, but also relief that the torture isn't over. I have committed myself to masturbating when I find a key. So I get face down on the floor and rub myself against the carpet. I get enormously hard and straining against the sheer tight material of the thong. I keep going until I am right at the edge and the feeling is intensely. My only job is to walk around and let patrons see ?Nancy? so I try and help all the girls get through when they’re being cooked. ?My mother should be here soon. Can she kiss me goodbye?? ?Your mother hasn’t been picked yet?? ?No. She’s only grade C and no ones picked her, yet. She keeps hoping though. She’s so proud of me being grade A and finally being cooked today.? ?What’s her name?? ?Martha. Martha Jones. She’s a medium built women with dishwater. He found his name badge, signed for it on the registration sheet, and handed the sheet to a bored-looking receptionist."Third door on the left, Tristan," she said in a mechanical voice.Tristan nodded and went through the door she had pointed out to him. He found himself in a classroom with about thirty or so desks all placed in pairs. He noticed that names had been placed on each desk. About half the students were already seated. There was a low buzz of conversation. No one took any notice of. Eliot encouraged her by asking her to say exactly what she’d meant. ‘I-I can’t, it’s too embarrassing.’ He smiled and said he’d heard what she’d said and asked did he look embarrassed? She looked for approval or rejection in his eyes and convinced herself she could read soft understanding in them. ‘I want you to know it was something I was thinking and had no intention of saying.’ Nodding, Eliot asked exactly what had she been thinking. ‘That I was lonely, between boyfriends and wasn’t this a.