How are the mighty fallen! How low do their tongues go? And how brown do they come out?Row, you italian shit! CRRRRRRRRAAACCCCCKKKKKKKK! AAAAAAAAGGGGG...HHHHHHHHHH!!!! Upstairs they like to hear a bit of shouting sometimes. OK. I’ve decided. I’ll take the british girl. She’s young and shiny... sweaty all over, and sticky down below. I think it’s panic that makes her sticky like that. She’s a light brunette, soft pale skin, brighter than the others. She’s got small, delicate feet, the kind used to. She could not see him well, just a shadow behind her chair, but she knew he was there. There watching her. Watching her watch herself. She could not close her eyes, could not look away from her naked, open body reflected back in that cold, revealing mirror. She could feel the ties in her hair, the ones holding her to that horrid chair pull again as he released her braid. She had no room for movement in her head, could not turn away from her own image.She could feel her excitement mounting. More

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