Indian Girl Riding Big Cock

No one wants to inspect my naked body. I want to run after them and say look at me, but I am chained to a spot. Then one woman stands closely in front of me. She looks at me with those lovely blue eyes of her as she stood before me. I can tell that she is at least 15 years older than me and by her confidence, she is used to being around naked slave boys and owning them. The woman has lovely blond hair that goes down to her shoulders and flip up in a curl. Around her neck is a white pearl necklace. She is wearing a yellow dress with a scoop neck and short sleeves and the hem is below the knees. Her stockings are tan and she is wearing yellow high heel shoes. Her perfume has a lovely scent. I want to tell how beautiful she is, but I cannot. I am a slave and cannot speak without permission. At present I am kneeling in the presentation room. I am naked. My knees are open wide and my private parts are visible to anyone who wants to see them. My hands are locked behind my head and my eyes. She pushed the faded cotton curtain over the sink aside, and peered out through the dusty glass towards the long unpaved drive that led from the old blacktop road up to their house. A dented red F-150 bumped up the drive followed by a cloud of brownish yellow dust that blasted furiously from beneath the tires only to slow, lose interest in the whole business and end up drifting aimlessly off into the cloudless summer sky. Before the truck had even stopped, the passenger door was flung open and her neighbor Mark jumped out and ran towards the house, tension written in every deep line of his weathered face. An instant thrill of fear ran through Katie. ‘Oh god…oh god…’ she thought, and she ran to the door and flung it open. Mark was breathless, his voice urgent and Katie found herself grabbing her purse and following him back to the truck before she’d even fully grasped what he was saying. ‘…Jack…accident…the rotator arm swung around and caught him in the chest…doctors on the way…looks.
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