Kajira was a bosomy slave that belonged to the head of Genetic Solutions. She, and it were top drawer, controlled by the government under the wing of the country's experimental breeding program. The cunt, tall, willowy and disobedient had been brought in for punishment. She was lashed, now, to the table in the pump room for any experimental projects the boys in the back room cared to launch. Today, though, was Friday, and nobody wanted to start anything too complicated. So they decided to use old-fashioned methods: They would screw her to death.
It was hour two of her re-training now. Max was finished with her, and returned grinning. "Now that's the way I like to kick off the day, fellas. I tell you that broad in there has firecrackers in her snatch....You're next, Milty. You lucky bastard."
Milton was gabbing with the other guys, the usual grumble about wives, raises and the cost of living. He unwound himself from his normal slouch, and stood up. "Duty calls, huh?"
The ugliest ball player in any league anywhere, Martin Long had been a star pitcher for the hottest team in the east until injuries side-lined him. No sweat, he was fucking tired of baseball anyway, so he went to work for his brother,Conrad , a big shot CEO in the 'sex business'. What the hell, Connie would find him something easy to do. Conny was a fucking billionaire. What did money mean to him?"
Max just grinned and pushed the big ball player toward the door. "Go see for yourself, kid. This is Uncle Conrad's private stock."
"Well, what the hell? I haven't got anything better to do this morning," Milty grumbled. (Once banking seven mill a year, Milty was conscious of the value of his time.)
Meanwhile, Kajira, slave in training was breathlessly waiting, little heart beating in expectation: long of leg, round of edible tush, and ripe as a tomato on the window sill. Pumped up as she was with optimal hormones, she was always horny. In the few minutes since Max had left,she had grown lonely . She couldn't wait for the door to open so she could see what manner of punishment was coming in to screw the loneliness out of her. She killed time by checking the spark in her cunt. You know, that hot spot in the back of a woman's pussy that makes her eyes light up? It was working good, and she pulled her fingers out and licked them clean.
When Milty turned the knob and pushed the door open, Kajira was withdrawing two fingers from her mouth. She was still spread wide, knees locked in a spreader bar, ankles tied to stirrups. Her swollen tits were heaving in anticipation. She smelled like mimosa. Milty looked stunned.
"Oh, my god..." Kajira thought . This guy was seven feet tall, skinny as a rail, and ugly as sin.
For his part, all the kid saw was a broad on the table with her legs spread, and for the first time this morning, he was perking up. Her big blue eyes turned to him, and widened when he unzipped his pants and released his major league prick. More like a pole for vaulting than anything human, it sprang out of his pants happy as a pooch thrown a rare steak. The big rod smelled the pussy in the room, and turned toward it like a sunflower in Auntie Mae's garden. "Ain't much on foreplay, sweetheart. Never saw much use in it. So we'll get right to it, OK?" he chuckled. "What a question! Doesn't look like you have much choice, pussy pants."
So with some of the awkward athletic grace, he'd shown on the mound he stepped up to the plate, lowering the slab a little so he could swing his leg over it and point that monster at her throbbing little pussy. "Hang on, Baby. Daddy's gonna hit a home run now." When he had sunk it into her about half way, he paused to check the _expression on her face. It was the fourth of July in Manhattan there, so he plunged it into her up to the hilt.
