The ‘bitch’ remained completely still even as ‘her’ owner pulled and twisted a little cage that tightly imprisoned a ridiculously small clitty...cock. The harder she pulled and twisted, the harder she dragged her cunt across her ‘bitch’s’ face. Reaching out blindly, Victoria grabbed hold of my cage, pulling me closer. Her eyes remained focussed on the screen as she gripped my clitty-cock tightly. Her other hand slowly “wanked” her gorgeous plastic cock, occasionally pulling it back and forth. Bob glimpsed the reflection of him on a cooling bank's chrome surface. The crisp touch of ice on his reflected image made him feel warm and comfortable inside the suit. His head though was still swimming in the haze from the drug soup he'd taken that morning. He called out to Schneider who was standing a dozen feet away, running last-minute diagnostics on yet another control panel himself:"Uhm, Kurt? I think I'm nauseous." It's the tetra-di-cynocytin-based inhibitors. There's always some. More

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