piercing and tattoo lovers who test the body for strength for the love of art. She was imprisoned completely by accident and wears rattles, as a chintz dress would wear.

We went in, went out, hung our jackets in the closet. It was a spacious entrance hall lined with cherry wood. Gypsum stucco on the ceiling, parquet on the floor - the entire interior resembled a small theater foyer, immersed in the flickering amber light of electric candlesticks hanging along the walls.

The redhead respectfully stood aside, folding her arms at the seams, an obliging smile on her face.

“Prepare him,” Muller blinks tiredly at the redhead, smoothing the hair in front of the mirror.

She nods and asks me to follow her. Turning around, and only now I notice in her ass a huge ruby. Precious round stone, perfectly faceted, real or artificial, bursting the buttocks in a wide, with a fist, funnel. The girl gently carries a pomegranate egg in her ass, driving her finger along the wall with her finger. Her gait resembles a bike ride - she sits on an egg, as in a saddle, does not twist and wag it, flies forward smoothly. We walk along the perimeter of the castle - a covered veranda with pointed windows - we reach the corner tower, we go down the spiral staircase to the basement. Here there is one room without windows, from furniture only a mirror on the wall, a table and a closet.

“Let me help you,” the red-haired slave comes up and, smiling at the edges of her lips, pulls my jacket off. Then a shirt. I feel Angela, frozen in the pose of "Take me as you like."

A button for a button - and now I stand in front of a redhead in some pants and socks. Restless mermaid pulls the belt. Again the button, the fly, and now the pants fell to the ankles, I stay in some shorts.

“I need to shave you,” the green-eyed bdsm girl grumbles, pulling off her underpants.

My cock treacherously hid in a leather case, cringing, shrinking. Thick black thickets never aroused my rejection. The girl almost touches the face of my flesh, helping to remove the pants. I am involuntarily excited.

I'm afraid to ask why. Why a slave-maid shaves with a disposable razor all the vegetation in my groin, why this young beauty, not paying attention to an erection, so carefully rinses the penis, testicles and especially tries to rub the head to shine. Why does she paint all my body, except the groin area and the head in blue. I looked like a mutant from the X-Men. Why all this masquerade?

One thing is clear to me for sure: if they wanted to bang me, they would have done it a long time ago. If they wanted to just torture to death, they wouldn’t waste so much paint and disturb the concubine. Who are they, I do not know. What are they preparing for? But the fact that they exist, and their power over people is not limited only to money, it is becoming more and more obvious.

I follow a simple rule, which so far has not failed: do not ask unnecessary questions. I, as a beast, are led by flags, not allowing me to come to my senses. I can get crazy and start to be clever, but something tells me that this time it is better to play by someone else's rules.

- Have a drink, please. It will give you strength, - the concubine draws a glass of orange juice, just poured from a fresh bag.

I sit in front of her on a chair, all blue, like a picture by Aivazovsky, with a washed-off rattling dildo, an unusual chill in the groin. She scrubbed all the hairs, was not too lazy to polish even the scrotum and everything under it, only the proximity of the anus stopped the girl with the razor.If her position was not more savory than mine, I would hardly allow such experiments to be carried out on the body.

Slave behaves relaxedly. As an employee of the nail salon, she lays out the tools back on the shelves: a jar of paint, a brush, shaving foam. Towel is sent to the bag for dirty laundry, a basin of used water becomes a corner. Children's ass with a ruby ​​flickers around the room, a darned vagina with a padlock bangs hitch, the newly punched nipple halos certainly have not lost their sensitivity. On the contrary, brown bumps are buzzing with a rush of blood, itching at night. Sometimes the girl frowns, making an awkward movement, pulling the chain, but in general she copes well with her duties.

“The introduction of a secret organization is going according to plan. I was not just shaved, - I calm myself. “There is a serious work ahead.”

When I get to the solution, Angela, Zlata, and other girls, including the redhead, will get a chance for freedom. I will never forget the tears of Angela, ending on my photo on the phone. Never.

Awful to sleep. Eyes stick together, the floor leaves from under feet. The room is tilted to the side, dark maroon stains are rapidly spreading over the carpet.

"I can not sleep," - cling to bits of thought for reality. Angry at myself, painfully pinching my hand.

The shroud of sleep silently covers the remnants of the will.