She knew that begging and pleading only made the captors crueler in their treatment. Julia vowed that she would abstain from such useless acts to fore...tall their inevitable torture. In all honesty, she had become accustomed to the expanding scope of the artwork on her back. She knew it would probably extend from her hairline all the way down to her ankle and that when it was finished it would be an expression of her existence forever more. Julia was more concerned with what the final product. I wasn't sure why or that I actually wanted to try it, but the idea was exhilarating to think about.It made me wonder what it would be like to be fucked by a man, a man I got to pick. I mean I could have any type of man. A blond hair blue eyed giant around 6'5" or a weight lifter with huge muscles. I mean, maybe I would pick a guy with a huge cock and let him fuck me crazy. Not that my husband was small, average I guess you would call him. A huge cock, humm, that would be fun. But to interview. ?Where is your god now?? She held his gaze impassively. ?Where is this Lord of whom you preached? Has he abandoned you?? There was laughter from the crowd. ?Where is he? Is this how he treats his flock? Is this your reward for your devotion? To display yourself naked in public on a torture engine?? She stared at him, teeth clenched, beads of sweat standing out on her forehead. ?See how she has no answer?? the priest called. ?See her defeat? Where is her god?? The crowd, pressing closer so. ”“Good-bye, Mrs. Armstrong – it’s been lovely to speak with you today,” my darling little sister said, adding a giggle to the end.She came back, and we switched places. It went faster when we didn’t have a picture to take, but that just means a bigger project down the road.I heard the door jingle, so I got up to see who it was – another walk in – Wow!“Hello, my name is Stuart, Welcome to Armstrong Realty – ‘Every house we list; somebody sells!’”It was a young couple; I had them sit down, and we.