Slavery has no feminine face. We all depend on the will of the one who is closest - the boss, the despotic relative, providence finally. The roles of the actors are inevitably distributed, as in the division of cells, the crystallization of ice. Money, power and sex rule the world. The invisible struggle laid by evolution, is hidden in every act of submission. We obey, but we obey. We sacrifice ourselves for the great purpose that unites the minds of humanity into a hierarchy of submission. We are ants living for the sake of a mura-order, enjoying the benefits of an anthill. We are patricians in the grip of a tyrant, plebeians and slaves in the grip of circumstances.

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During imprisonment in the Temple of the Seven Keys, I personally experienced a change of roles in the hierarchy of subordination. I was locked in a tiny basement bunker. The grate on the round ceiling window and the feeder in the iron door - that's all that connected me to the outside world. During the day, I walked around the camera, folding my arms behind my back, like Vladimir Ilyich Lenin, went crazy with despair, inconsolable loneliness. Posner subtly felt the paradigm of the moment, handed me books on personal development. Sometimes I opened them on a random page, read the useless advice of Beverly Hills millionaires. Smart people want well: “Leave the comfort zone,” they shout in each line. “You must regard defeat as a personal victory,” they say day by day. I resigned to the winning situation, took slavery for the victory over myself. I was well fed, too much. Five meals, a personal chef, a cupboard filled with food, a refrigerator, juices, water — I lived in a small grocery store, the feeding trough was full of restaurant food.

After two months of gluttony Ryzhenkov sent me a stationary bike so that I would “keep my penis in good shape.”

“Penis sana in corpore sano,” Posner cooed, peering into the cell through a square hole in the door.

I hosed myself with cold water. Sitting in a squatting tank, I doused myself with the icy Arctic. A member of the lethargic sausage muddy soapy water.

Daily workouts with profuse sweating disturbed my hosts:

“Starting today, lock the simulator on even days,” the guard ordered Dyrko. “He'll ruin himself completely.”

And I started push-ups, squat, jump on even days, drive through the Tour de Castle on odd. I used a bed and a bedside table for exercise, a wardrobe and a washbasin for stretching. The guard grunted, looking into the peephole of the camera. They worked in shifts, Ryzhenkovskiy fighters. We had nothing to talk about, in one inch of brains you cannot conceal. In their fat, uncomplaining glances, I read fear and servility. Zombie soldiers carried out the mission, guarded the caste from the inside, made sure that the key did not break the key in half.

But every time after dark they brought me to the evening milking, becoming part of a turquoise system that arose in snake eggs.

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Green pupal brew freezes under the sweeps of Machaons. Red - the same fiery as the previous one - without stopping watching me with greens through a hole in the trough. She must not enter, come until my body is completely immobilized. I am a doctor Lecturer in her eyes, an insidious devourer of women's hearts, the tempter. Pounce on her and rape in the most rigidly perverted form, as soon as the system fails. If a.

If the guards make a mistake and forget to tie my hands or feet, the leather straps on the back of my head are not tight enough. After all, I still bite. Iron mask, like a lecturer, proof of this.Hole did a good job with a pompous virgin, her chaste shabby brain washed to the bone. Now she is afraid to even look at me, not that look down on a member. To know that the snake will throw out a blue poison infecting with lust, and to perform ablution - not everyone agrees to risk their lives. The redhead plays with fire, enters the cell last, when I am already tied to a crucifix with dozens of belts. Two Ryzhenkovsky thugs, laughing, leaving the camera, leaving us alone. Now the girl will prepare me for the evening milking.

A green-eyed witch bangs punched boobs, waltzes on tiptoe in a cell, rattles rattling at the navel and the clitoris. The round elastic back parting with two friable hemispheres, shines with the sewn up segments of the virgin recording.

The redhead is leaning over the paint.

“Stand still,” she whispers, avoiding looking into my eyes. With her hands, she examines a fat scrotum, pulling three layers of giant condoms on the penis. They hide the snake under the root, leaving a long tail of yellowish latex golf hanging on the end.

I can only buzz in response, stare at the virgin, bursting with excitement. She thickly ocher the body, quickly wielding the brush, drawing a terrible picture: a Tasmanian devil with a quivering stick between her legs is caught to collect sperm. Now I am as bright red as Vestalka, only with my skin, not with my hair.

The iron frame, in which I am empty, is rolled along the catacombs of the castle. Vestal runs ahead. Her fiery head of hair flutters up her ass, autumn leaves glide on the back. Like clots of lava, splashed in layers on the slopes of the volcano, the concubine's hair glistens with silk and shimmers with huge bird feathers.

Hole fully armed meets me with a wave of the Staff with a horse prick:

- May the force be with us! - he roars at the top of his head, bringing the upper modulations to abrupt ecstasy. Then he throws up the golden beak of the mask to the glass ceiling.

Two dozen naked girls fall down on their faces, fanning themselves on the marble floor.

The guards in the meantime roll me around for fear. The chorale of the monks pours out of the dark under the colonnades in alarming tones. Venya loves the show, loves to catch up with the melancholy of the slave-slaves. Taking out the brain on a silver platter is its trick, it requires skill. Submission without faith - the target to the wind. A lie harmoniously lies with a blue plush on fresh minds. They were driven here to believe in the sacred bull.

The iron frame, in which I flutter a fly on the belts, is placed on a glass round table with a hole, the member with the scrotum falls into the hole. Redhead cautiously pulls golf condoms, inserts a prick in the neck of a huge glass bottle, securely fastened under the table on a sled. The bottle also tilted so that I did not cum past the cash register.

Milking begins.

Redhead monitors the penis voltage, adjusts the height of the sperm receiver, the depth of the dive. Its task is simple: do not miss the reset. Concubines in pairs climb onto the stage, climb under the table, chase the skin over the lead-drenched trunk.

I'm frozen at thirty-seven, there's nowhere to grow. Tusk, deeply ingrown into the pubis, snout rested in the bottle. Girls grease hands with gel, high-quality milking requires high-quality frictions. Silent smack-chmk spread from under the table. I lay relaxed, eyes closed, so as not to think about a hard handjob. They take the balls. Lips concave with excessively large swollen eggs, which absorbed the energy of the day with two fat glands. Hot mouths massage eggs, smooth elastic glands under thin skin, turquoise milk gelatin slips in amniotic fluid. To qualitatively defuse the sacred bull will take time. They are in no hurry, concubines. They replace each other, work in pairs. While one holds the eggs, it warms them with the mouth, the other rubs the rounded muscle bathed in stone under the eggs, the third one with two hands chases the champagne lubricant down the trunk. They work well together, especially the one that jerks off. She is sitting on the floor with her bare ass, her hips clasping a sled with a bottle - it is easier to use girl power.I lay on my stomach, turned upside down, actually hanging over the table like a starfish stuck in an iron cage. I do not care how they give me away, how quickly the hands slide over the penis. It is important to see the eyes of the concubine at this moment - focused, bold. The lips are ajar, the tension on the flushed face is increasing. A girl blows off a strand of hair, throws a short curious glance at me: “Well, soon there?”