A Sex Slavee To Alien Masters

“No, Damien, I am a slave. You do not pay me and I cannot ask for days to go other places. We are different,” I assured him.

ALL the men were silent and they didn’t move to clean me. I felt sticky and was slowly leaking their cum; I wanted to bathe. Still, they just lay there around me.

“Humans are different,” Bane suddenly said. “That is why it is a happy slave.”

The men murmured agreement and I had to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. I wanted to explain to them I wasn’t happy being a slave; I’d just made up my mind to make the most of my life. Being miserable would just make me feel worse and I would still be a slave.

A N G E L A ‘s L I B R A R Y

Finally, Christof rose from the bed and picked me up.

courtesans,

humans talk about them. Courtesan is an old word

sat on the bed still holding me. My chance for a bath diminished and

about them,”

that the courtesans I knew about were all women. I just allowed the word

of other humans. They did it as a

in this arrangement we have

of what I was saying was based on my best guesses. I’d never expected to need to use

clearing my throat, “human courtesans often talked to their patrons, the people that paid them. Those patrons were relaxed around the courtesans. It meant the courtesans could suggest things that other humans

carefully as he considered this

do sometimes talk with their men,”

to the women, but I have never