She started. She was only vaguely aware that something was occuring on her thigh, just above her knee, when she felt his hand pressing against the inner surface, forcing it to slide apart, widdening her. That you are, he said. Ask politely. She was La Princesa, shaped only for destruction. He laughed, bitter and short. She began to weep. And as it pressed against her sex, widening it and finally slipping inside her, she realized that is was a sphere of some kind. He dragged her by one arm to the bed and tossed her down on it. A kneeling slave, trapped and captive, open and helpless to whatever attentions he might want to torment her with. |