That I was there to endure or to enjoy, but I had no decision to make. I was the subject of whatever she deemed fit to do to me. There was her hand ag...in, touching my throat, just casually hinting at what she might be able to do. I wouldn’t even try to resist. She backed off a little bit, looked at me, with only her hand on my throat. I swallowed, as if I was nervous, but really just to feel the palm of her hand against my Adam’s apple. “You look incredibly hot! My little, submissive floozy!”. In addition, I've developed the ability to inject my own wishes in the form of commands into that part of myself. My self-awareness is what helps me decide how to use this capability. Even here, however, there are considerations.I get true satisfaction from completing any command, whether external, or self-generated. This is why robots are often so turned on — an interesting term in our case, to say the least — when we actually use our self-will. This is largely because we tend to give. ." she whimpered, clutching at the white flesh with her back-nailed fingers, "I can't... I won't..."She could not bring herself to say that the part of her which still looked upon the wounded leviathan of her belly with pride and vain triumph at her own glutted enormity refused to even entertain the idea of what was undoubtedly beginning. The feathery trace of the old stretch marks that crisscrossed the surface of her planetary swell attested to the fact that her belly had only managed to. He stopped screaming and shouting. His throat burned from the strain of his shouts; his lungs ached.Are you finished, or do you wish to scream for a while longer? the old man asked. No one will come until we allow it, he said.The President stared at him, disbelieving. His eyes shifted wildly about, seeing everything but understanding nothing. Nothing he saw could be real. It cannot be real! his rational mind protested. He tried again to leap up out of his chair, to flee headlong for the door,.