If Carol survived, it would be interesting to see her reaction. It would tell us much about the young man with the funny name.The day went on and Ben and I continued to interrogate the captives. Poppa Jack came in with sandwiches for us and told us that his Aunt Mary and Cindy were questioning the women. I suggested that we compare notes over supper. He said he would pass that on to them. He said that the women's stories were heartbreaking. Their treatment had been cruel.Out of the seventy-three male captives, we had ten for group two, which were the good guys, twenty-eight for group one, and thirty-five left for group three. That third group had two more broken arms and three broken legs. There were a number in that group who didn't have names because they refused to talk to me. The treatment of women that the Triple-A's espoused brought out the worst in men. Some of these men survived by their cruelty and it became their identity. We weren't a rehabilitation clinic. Poppa Jack took. Iwaited for him to unwrap it and roll it over his thick cock, then I felthis hands on my hips again, then his cock push against my bald pussy frombehind.His fingers traced around the flower on my smooth ass cheek as he let myjuices lubricate the condom, then slowly guided it inside me. His thickcock stretched me wider and wider as my moans and cries mixed with his. Heslid back and forth into me as I squirmed and cried out louder, I couldfeel his cock pulsing even through the condom, and pushed back against himto meet his eager thrusts. As he slid back and forth, deeper and harderinto my swollen, glistening pussy, I thought about how far I had come as afemale. Here I was, a former male, used to doing the taking, being taken bya chinese businessman, a target.I was using my body and sex as a weapon to get close to him. He slid almostcompletely out, then slid back in, filling me again and again. He drew itout and made me more and more aroused and moist. My cries got louder as hebrought.
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