I do not doubt that you would soon be earning a living in a whorehouse and would not suffer immediately. However, whores tend to catch awful diseases,...and to die young, in cruel circumstances, so it isn't a very tempting option. Now, the Bishop and I have devised a way in which you can continue to serve the Church while not actually being in a Convent. On the Bishop's advice, the Mother Superior has agreed that you can remain technically a member of the order, but that you will be on Sabbatical. “While a CITI can’t be faked as you know. A genuine one, however, could be issued to anyone with unrestricted access to a CITI machine.”“But I always thought, that even the theft of a machine would not be enough to create a citizen identification tag implant?”“And right you are.” She agreed, “You need the machine, the properly registered location, and two authorized operators.”I nodded.”Yes, because these machines know where they are and become inoperable if removed. So what has all this to do. I was dying-please, just let me breathe! I struggled to pull back, to move my head even a little, but his hands tangled in my hair kept my face impaled on his dick, my face crushed against his pubic hairs. My chest tightening, my belly jumping, I began to writhe wildly, hips rising and falling, jerking side to side. I bucked harder and harder-the man in my pussy didn’t even have to move, my body was fucking him on its own. The rising burn in my belly, my bladder, and then I lost control. Urine. The seat and seat back had been reupholstered in a lighter blue imitation leather fabric. The spoke wheels had been polished to the point that Tony initially thought they had been chromed. On the metal tube that rose up to the hand rest on the right front a large bulb horn, like on a kids bicycle, had been installed. Rising past the push handle on the left rear was a white plastic stick holding a bright orange triangular safety pennant five feet in the air. A round white placard hung from each.