1. Chronicles of Jess. Part 1
  2. Chronicles of Jess. Part 2
  3. Chronicles of Jess. Part 3
  4. Chronicles of Jess. Part 4
  5. Chronicles of Jess. Part 5
  6. Chronicles of Jess. Part 6. Finale of the first chapter

Page: 2 of 5

their stuff chased through some stupid x-ray machines. And in general, the customs controls were wild atrocities with hours of inspections, interrogations and late people on the flight. Anyway, now everything is different. Much tougher, but different. There is a person with a unique set of parameters. It can not be faked (well, so they say). These are fingerprints and the signature of the iris. Actually, the whole identification system is based on them. Plus it is that you do not need any additional documents and papers, which are still easier than simple to fake.

The downside is that if you are screwed up, you are declared a criminal (often automatically) in all countries of the Union. And wherever you come, you still find yourself in search. A search is an automatic recognition of faces on all cameras in the world, scanning eyes and fingers at terminals in any serious institutions ... Plus, no one has canceled the living representatives of law enforcement agencies. The result is a kind of police planet. You sneeze suspiciously, and specialized scripts are already studying you, checking whether your sneeze poses a threat to society ...

I know it sounds very scary. But in practice, manufacturers of fake passports have long been retrained as hackers who create fake identities for criminals (those who did not retrain are just dead, who could not withstand natural selection). So everything is, in general, the old way. Probably. I do not know how it was a hundred years ago.

Actually, I wasn’t worried about myself, but for Jess. Artificial intelligence is absolutely able to do the work, which (according to rumors) takes from five to ten minutes. I just did not like this moment with control, and dreamed of getting settled in the first class of the transporter as soon as possible. There are comfortable sun loungers, air conditioning, no cramped and eternal hell economy class. All these drunken muzzles of greasy big-bellied “men”, women with screaming children, nerves in hoods and laptops, eternal status blonds with smartphones are more expensive than their completed education ... Which, most likely, is simply not there. I do not like people. But still I try not to harm them too much. Perhaps that is why me, one of the few, was touched by the happiness of finding a ginoid in an occasional street skirmish.

Finally, we were allowed into the buffer zone. There have already begun to accumulate awaiting departure. Many were hanging around the hall, because they were here for the first time. Someone wandered into the duty-free and stocked booze. Someone leisurely walked toward the jewelry salon, some of the people sat in the cafe. I went to the machine, took a few bottles of water, myself and, just in case, Jess.

- Do you want to drink or eat? - I asked her.

- Not.

- Then let's go, wander.

Before landing, there was still about half an hour. We wandered aimlessly around the waiting room, listening to muffled ads in several languages. They reported on how the transporters arrived and departed, that the check-in began, that the landing began ... Jess made a close friendship with the parrots again. A minute later, two birds were sitting on her shoulders, and a huge butterfly with blue, blue as azure wings, fell on her fingers. In the buffer zone, too, there were many palms and parrots, it seems they were shoved all over the terminal.

I came closer. Parrots and Jess simultaneously glanced at me. The birds turned away and started a thrilling dialogue with each other, and they were not embarrassed at all that they were literally chatting over the head of a black woman. Jess just stared at me, mechanically ruffling the feathers of one of the birds.

“You know, Adrian,” she said, “I think I need some kind of constant reminder of you.”

I was surprised:

- In terms of?

“You recently called me your slave.” It was so great ... I really am your slave and I like it and I don’t want anything to change. But on the web I found that a slave must constantly remember who she is. She needs some symbol of slavery.

- Well, it can be arranged, since you so want. You can put a collar on you, or burn it with a hot iron, or ...

- Is there something that will remind of itself constantly? What you can not get used to, or forget?

Hmm ... And that she called me a dreamer? She has her own fantasy hoo.

- There is, Chocolate. Anything that will hurt you with every move. Or just cause discomfort.

- Here! - She triumphantly threw up. The parrots grunted anxiously and began to stamp around on her shoulders. It would not have torn a thin dress ... - That's what you need! Let there be pain and discomfort at once! They will remind me of who I belong to ... Oh, oh, how great! Please, let's do it with me! What will it be, master ?!

I just shook my head. Never before has a girl asked me to make her permanent suffering with such ardent desire and enthusiasm. But since this will make her happy ...

- Let's go to. - I drove off her living creatures (parrots doused me with expressive glances, in which sheer disdain was read) and led me along. Somewhere around here I saw the characteristic symbolism of an adult store. I know it sounds completely stupid. Sex shop in the buffer zone of the terminal. But I already said that this is Jungle. Here it is possible if not all, then very much. Including, buy sex toys before departure. Since so far such a store has not closed, it means that it is in demand. In addition, to alleviate the torments of conscience of tourists, this institution was as impersonal as possible. Only above the door was visible laconic engraving - the symbol of Mars, the piercing symbol of Venus.

We entered. Honestly, for the first time I was in a similar institution - well, I did not have to buy sex toys for my girls, they were all normal. And they are more than enough regular sex. It was boring, but I managed to get used to such a question. And now ... Now I got in touch with a nymphomanic negro who dreamed of pain as the sweetest pleasure, because she had to remind her of me.

And so I stood in the middle of a small hall, with dozens of shelves, each of which had a lot of different things. Dildos (a huge number of varieties, single and double), vibrators (all sorts of colors, battery powered and from the outlet, of different sizes and with different heads), anal beads, butt-plugs, inflatable girls, imitations of vagin and anus .. Naturally, there were a lot of erotic clothes for girls, there were special mattresses on which you can lie, smeared with oil. There were fluids themselves - oil, anal and vaginal lubrication, various scented candles, wax ingots (for those who like to burn partners) ...

In a word, it was all. But I needed another.

- Do you have anal rhinestones? - I turned to the bored girl at the reception. That second "processed the request," then looked at me, at the black woman, somehow smiled confusedly and ran into the depths of the store. Hm Which of us should blush and be embarrassed, me or the seller? She spends all day surrounded by all these weapons of debauchery, but shakes her simple question ... Strange. However, it worried me last. After a couple of minutes, the girl rushed back, and put several packages in front of me.

- Here, choose.

In each of the boxes was a metal butt-plug. These are special little dildos that have the shape of a sort of sharp drop. The tip there is really pointed, but the cannon quickly expands in a conical manner, and the top is very thick, but rounded. And this is the thickest drop-spear ("sting", as I call it) is placed on a thin metal rod, at the other end of which there is a retainer. The same diameter as the "sting".From the outside, the retainer is encrusted with a hefty glass stone. Or several at once. Actually, inlay can be any, and it is this customization made such dildos so popular. Typically, these "decorations" are inserted in the ass, and ... Read more →

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